by Liz Delton
Around mid-day, Korey and the others took him out for a meal from a street vendor. Emrick ate quietly while the others talked at length about the vids they had worked on all morning to get to Lady Blackwater. Emrick’s mind was still in the Observation room, wanting to get back and play with the controls some more.
They returned to the castle. Seeing that Emrick could fend for himself, Korey took the time to catch up on some other work, telling him to call if he wanted any help. Emrick lost himself in the datastrands.
After several hours, he could finally direct the drone in any way he wanted with the manual controls he had taught himself. He discovered that the drone was hard-programmed to return to its automatic flight path if he stopped sending it manual controls. The programming was superb; the transition was flawless.
Finally, he allowed himself some time to play—Korey was still immersed in his own work, and Emrick suspected his supervisor had forgotten about him, but he didn’t mind.
With a practiced gesture, he brought the drone down, getting closer to the trees. He sent it into a gentle spiral, growing ever closer to the leaves bristling in the light breeze.
Thin branches now took up the screen of the looking-glass as the drone wove through them. Small birds hopped about at the approach of the drone. Then he saw some larger movement, down on the ground. Was it one of the beasts of the wilds he had always heard about?
Carefully, he maneuvered the drone to a better viewing angle. Not a wild beast, no, but a group of people. He leaned closer to the looking-glass.
Emrick almost lost the connection to his earlink entirely—he did lose the drone, which took a second to gently rise and return to the air above the trees and its automatic course.
But he had seen them. Three men carrying—no, dragging—a girl. A girl he immediately recognized. Because you never forget the face of someone you take the Trials with.
He couldn’t quite believe the odds, but he was sure of what he had seen: Sylvia being taken north by Skycity’s men.
* * *
Emrick’s heart fluttered, and he was suddenly hot, even though he was just sitting at his station. A fantastic first day in his internship had turned into a furious internal debate inside his head.
All of those disclosures he had signed had expressly forbade him from speaking of anything he saw on the vids until they were made public—and he doubted this one would be made public.
Someone would see the vid eventually, since there wasn’t anything he could do about the files. Everything that the drones saw was recorded and hard-saved, according to policy.
Should I tell Korey what I saw? Or just let them discover it later when someone re-watches the vids?
If I tell them, Lady Blackwater might help, but she might just as easily want to stay out of it.
When Atlan had still been speaking to him, he had let on that Lady Blackwater had a weird curiosity about Sylvia, despite the city’s vote to remain out of the affairs of the Four Cities, save for the minimal help she had earned through the Trials. Still, Emrick could tell that Atlan and Sylvia had spent more than a little time together during the Trials.
I should tell Atlan.
But that would mean breaking my oath, he argued with himself. My first day on the job and I’m thinking about throwing it all away.
I could work here for decades if the internship goes well.
But what if they kill Sylvia?
“Nice work today,” came Korey’s voice from behind him, making him jump out of his stool.
“Sorry,” Korey chuckled. “I saw some of your drone’s footage—” Emrick’s stomach dropped to the floor, “—you’ve already learned a lot. Tomorrow you’ll just have to suffer learning from me.”
Emrick forced a smile. “Thanks,” he said past the lump in his throat.
All around the room, the others were getting ready to leave for the day: packing up their things and inputting a few last commands to their drones.
“Just leave your station as-is,” Korey told him as he shrugged into his jacket. “Everything’s on automatic backup, and your drone will just continue its flight path—unless you figured that out already, too?”
The smile was genuine this time, “Not yet,” Emrick replied.
“Well, there’s always tomorrow.”
On their way out of the castle, Emrick used his live-map again, but he wasn’t as interested in it as this morning. He didn’t know what to do.
He said goodbye to his new coworkers outside the castle, and they all headed in different directions. Most of them lived in the city, and the ones who didn’t went to run errands before catching the train. Emrick’s feet slowly led him down the road toward the train platform.
Anyone in the other departments could review those vids anytime and see what he saw. He had to assume it would immediately be brought to Lady Blackwater’s attention, and then...What? Would she help Sylvia?
For months now, the consensus had been against aiding in the war of the Four Cities. Even after the Trials, the majority of Seascape had continued to vote down any proposals that came through the link to aid Arcera.
Lady Blackwater, he could only assume, had ways of doing things without the will of the people, but so far had obviously seen no advantage of going against the vote.
He was already climbing the stairs to the train platform.
I’ll just head home, he told himself. Someone will see the footage, tell Lady Blackwater, and she’ll send help.
But that could be days from now. Or not at all.
He’d seen the vids of what had happened to the other cities of Arcera, and what Greyling’s army had done.
The Governor might want Sylvia dead.
The shriek of breaks announced the arrival of the train. Everyone on the platform flocked to the open door.
I’ll be committing treason if I tell anyone about the vids I saw. But if I tell Atlan...he’s part of the royal family, that wouldn’t really be treason, would it? He was sure if it came down to it, it wouldn’t matter to the judges if he had told Atlan or his own mother—they would find him guilty.
He took a shaky breath and stepped into the train.
A few more people got on, and his panic rose like a massive wave. He darted for the exit, mumbling, “Forgot something,” to the people he pushed past. A second later, the door closed behind him and the train began to move away from the platform, heading for the country.
He felt as if he had already committed treason, even though he was merely standing on a train platform in the late afternoon sun. He looked around the street below. People were still going about their daily business. He retraced his steps back off the platform, thoughts bouncing around his brain.
Once more, he climbed the steps up to Castle Tenny, suddenly conscious of how much he swung his arms as he walked and how quick his steps were. The Black Knights, with their dark uniforms and intimidating belts of weapons, didn’t do much to soothe his nerves. But they ignored him as he yanked the tall door open and re-entered.
Oliver was still at his post in the foyer, a quizzical smile upon his face.
“I forgot something,” Emrick offered. It sounded natural enough, and Oliver went back to the looking-glass perched on his desk.
Emrick was halfway across the hall, when he turned on his heel. “Oh—Oliver?”
The man looked up again.
“Is Atlan around? I thought I’d brag about my internship a bit, since he hasn’t gotten one yet.”
“Let me check,” Oliver replied with another polite smile. His eyes changed focus for a moment, while—Emrick assumed—he linked to Atlan.
“Just in luck,” Oliver replied, and the breath caught in Emrick’s lungs.
“Here,” Oliver said, reaching down to input a command onto his datastrands. “I’m linking you directions—you have the live-map already, right?”
“Yep,” Emrick said, nodding, as he wiped his somehow sweaty palms on the back of his jacket. It seemed Oliver knew everything that went on in
the castle, down to which individuals were given access to maps, and rooms.
“Right, then. See if you’ve got it.”
Emrick took a second to search his datastrand storage for the update. He brought it up and looked it over. A route through the castle was outlined just like the one Korey had given him, except this one must lead to Atlan’s quarters.
He had never been to see Atlan in the castle, as Lady Blackwater’s son had always preferred to meet elsewhere. After the Trials, they had spent some time going over internship possibilities for the both of them, and re-living theirs and the other initiates’ performances in the Trials. Until recently anyway.
“Got it, thanks Oliver,” he said.
“Not at all,” Oliver replied with a nod.
Emrick consulted the directions and headed through the doors leading further into the castle, knowing that his decision had already been made the moment he stepped off the train.
He followed the live-map through the castle, and descended even deeper than the Observation room. He only encountered two more Black Knights passing in the other direction, who paid him no notice. Moments later, he arrived at the door of a room marked Fieldmarch Suite (Atlan Blackwater) on the map. He knocked.
Footsteps thundered from behind the door, which flung open at once with a bang.
Taken aback at the violence of the action, Emrick leapt away, his back to the wall. Atlan towered in the doorframe, his face full of rage, but whatever he had been about to say died on his lips at the sight of Emrick.
“Emrick? What the hell are you doing here?” the rage melted from his face, and he took Emrick into a one-armed hug.
“I thought you knew I was coming?” Emrick said in surprise.
“Knew you were coming? If I knew anyone was coming I—” he stopped suddenly. “Come inside, then, and we’ll catch up,” he said, and glanced out of the door, as if looking for someone else in the hallway.
Emrick followed him into the room, wondering why Atlan was acting so strange. A small voice inside him suggested that maybe it wasn’t the best time to divulge his news.
But it might be the only time.
Ten
Atlan paced this way and that while the last person he had expected to see sat down at his embarrassingly cluttered desk and tried not to knock anything off in the process.
He turned his back on the door, now suddenly void of the two Black Knights who Lady Naomi had assigned to watch him.
“I’m sorry I haven’t—”
He stopped short, because Emrick had blurted: “I didn’t know who else—”
They both paused. Atlan cocked his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked, for, now that the surprise of his arrival had worn off, he noticed Emrick’s face was strangely drawn, and his hands were clenched in fists.
Emrick let out a strangled sigh. He looked like he was going to throw up.
“What is it?” Atlan pressed.
“I started my internship today,” Emrick said suddenly. “And I saw something. Something on the vids.”
His friend’s visible struggle with himself suddenly became clear. The vids were notoriously confidential until approved for public consumption by the Lady and her staff. What had he seen?
And then his insides felt as if they were filling with a sick blackness. What if it was—?
“Sylvia,” Emrick whispered, and the blackness reached Atlan’s heart and clenched it like an icy claw.
He sank down to sit on the floor opposite Emrick’s chair.
“Tell me,” Atlan urged.
Emrick looked around the room as if it might have eyes and ears, which would not be out of the ordinary—especially in this castle—if the room belonged to anyone but Atlan Blackwater.
Confined to his rooms for weeks on end, he had found every single camera sensor and mic-record hidden in his suite, and disabled them, even though Lady Naomi’s agents continued to put them there on the rare occasions he was allowed out, or even when he slept. It was a constant silent battle between them.
“No one can hear us,” Atlan assured him, and Emrick reluctantly launched into his tale. When he finished, he looked like a man who had just had a poison removed from his body. But Atlan felt as if the poison now resided in himself.
He stared at the small fire crackling in his grate without seeing it. He had known Sylvia would be in danger the moment she left after the Trials, which was why he had tried to leave the island—on multiple occasions—since then. But Lady Naomi refused to let him go.
She claimed it was because he would be endangering the bloodline—her precious position as descendant from Seascape’s founder Karalyn Arcere. The age serum that extended her life also made it harder for her to conceive, and Atlan was likely to be the only child Lady Naomi ever had.
And he would always be a disappointment because of some stupid tradition. Because Karalyn Arcere had believed the regency should pass through the female line.
Even though Lady Naomi didn’t value him because of his gender, she still wouldn’t let him go into danger, if only because someday he might have a daughter, and therefore become valuable to her again. It had been enough to make him disgusted by the serum and all of its effects.
He felt more sure than ever that he didn’t want to take his serum and gain what everyone in Seascape felt was normal, and their right: long life. But it came with a price, and to Atlan it felt like it would be stealing the life of the offspring one could no longer have so easily. He knew it wasn’t scientifically possible, but his mind couldn’t help but make the awful connection.
His face suddenly grew hot: even though Emrick couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking, Atlan felt guilty for it. He knew very well that Emrick had been excited to take the serum, had felt he earned it. Atlan had always kept his opinion to himself during every conversation they had had about it.
The serum aside, Atlan knew he couldn’t stay here now, not while he knew Sylvia was most certainly in trouble, but he had no clue where to begin.
It was silent between the two of them for a long time, until Atlan finally said, “You know, I haven’t been ignoring you these past few weeks, either.” He let out a huff of frustration.
“Lady Naomi decided it was in her best interest to keep me in the castle indefinitely. So they locked my door and posted a pair of Black Knights outside around the clock.”
“And you really didn’t know I was coming, did you?” Emrick asked after a moment.
“Not a clue. I would have tidied up at least,” Atlan chuckled, his eyes darting to the stack of dirty cups and plates on his dining table, and the mountain of paper that was his desk.
“Hmm,” Emrick began, “When I asked Oliver if you were here, he must have been checking with...”
“Lady Naomi,” Atlan supplied.
They both let out a long sigh, in unison, then began laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world. It felt good to laugh—perhaps it was the first time he had done so in weeks—but when it subsided, the silence grew long and heavy.
These past few weeks, he had only wanted to leave Seascape to join Sylvia and offer his help in any way he could. It felt selfish to languish here in Seascape, surrounded by walls and weapons and security, when Sylvia was returning home to a place he knew offered no protection from the weapons Skycity wielded. Yet she returned without question or complaint. It was simply something she had to do. She was the bravest person he had ever met.
But now, he and Emrick were probably the only two people who knew she was in trouble.
“I have to get out of here,” he muttered, a familiar phrase to his lips, but this time, it was an oath instead of a wish.
Eleven
At last, the Scouts allowed Sylvia to stop. She had trudged on all day without complaint so as not to provoke the Scouts. She had to keep her earlink safe at all costs, and the costs to her pride had been deep.
Occasionally, they shoved or tripped her, and with her hands tied behind her back it was not easy to regain bal
ance. Twice she fell to the ground, unable to stop herself, though she managed to turn to the side to keep from smashing her face. By either its flawless design, or pure luck, the earlink stayed in place.
More than once they sent the mountain lions to shadow her footsteps, which was the worst of the torture. The lions’ hot breath on her heels, and their slinking bodies just out of her line of sight was the stuff her nightmares were made of.
She paid little attention to their surroundings after she had realized they were headed north, and unquestionably to Skycity. Ever since she had woken on that Scout’s shoulder this morning, she had resigned herself to the fact that she could not escape these Scouts and their lions. It would be suicide. Her only hope lay in the possibility of using her earlink, or escaping once they reached Skycity.
Of course, she had tried using her earlink several times already as they plodded on through the wilds, but her drone was the farthest away it had ever been, and now that they had walked on for an entire day, it was probably twice as far. There was nothing in her datastrands that would help her, either. And she knew painfully well that linking wouldn’t work across this distance to anyone in Seascape, even if they would help her.
The one benefit of being the Scouts’ captive was that they felt no need to hurry to their destination, and stopped around sundown to make camp for the night. The mountain lions were sent out into the darkening trees, no doubt to hunt. Sylvia watched them slink away, their heads low and intent, and their paws silent on the forest floor.
The Scouts tied her to a tree while they made camp. She sat down amid the roots and watched, musing that she ought to be flattered that Greyling had gone to such lengths to kidnap her. The last time she had seen him, they had fought hand-to-hand outside Meadowcity, and she with a burned leg. She remembered the look he gave her as he retreated into the dark woods with his men, and she shuddered.
A fire was lit, and the mountain lions returned with their kills, a pheasant each. As the Scouts busied themselves with their dinner—only the scraps of which would later be thrown to Sylvia—no one saw as she curled up on her side, as if readying to sleep.
