A Rift Between Cities (Arcera Trilogy Book 3)

by Liz Delton

  With her legs bent, she carefully slipped her bound hands around one knee, and then the next, all the while keeping her eyes glued to the Scouts for any sign of them looking her way.

  Finally, she got her hands in front of her. Without wasting any time, she reached up to her ear and yanked out the earlink—but where would she hide it? With a jolt she realized she hadn’t thought that far ahead in her plan.

  The Scouts were now calling for ale, and the one who had carried it all this way doled it out like a precious delicacy. As they tucked into their meat, no one noticed the prisoner slip her hands back behind her legs and stuff something small down the back of her sock, where it nestled just above her boot.

  Twelve

  Atlan and Emrick made plans to meet up the next day. Atlan was positive the two Black Knights guarding his room would return the moment Emrick left, and sure enough, not a minute after Emrick closed the door, Atlan heard two sets of footsteps stop right outside it.

  He spent the evening and well into the night trying to read a book, one of the few he had borrowed from the library before he had been confined to his rooms. Unfortunately, he had already read it several times since then. Voluntarily disconnected from his earlink, he had little else to occupy his mind with.

  Nowadays, he only put his earlink in to check the news vids. Even though he had established blocks against Lady Naomi contacting him via link, he still kept it off entirely. He didn’t want anyone bothering him anymore.

  But the book would only distract him for a few moments at a time, until he would find his eyes reading entire paragraphs without taking in any meaning, when he would realize his thoughts had drifted back to Sylvia. It wasn’t until an hour before dawn that his eyelids grew heavy enough to close. The book toppled out of his hands to the floor, and he slept.

  When he awoke, it took several minutes before he could keep his eyes open without blinking like there were weights attached to his eyelids. He had to be ready if Emrick’s plan to meet worked, so he popped in his earlink and connected to his datastrands.

  It was early yet, so he sat at his desk and tried to tidy it to pass the time. His nerves buzzed like an electric current as he shuffled the papers.

  By the time the notification came over his earlink, he had done nothing more than stare at his desk and move a few papers around half-heartedly. He was too distracted. He shrugged as he gave the command to let the link come through.

  Atlan? The sound of Oliver’s voice echoed in his mind through the earlink.

  Relief flooded his chest. If it was Oliver, it must mean—

  Your friend Emrick invited you to catch up over lunch at The Waterfront pub. You can meet him in the entrance hall in an hour.

  Atlan grinned, taking in the full meaning of the words.

  Thank you, Oliver, he linked back, trying to put as much emphasis into the words as he could. He knew Oliver must have had to bargain on his behalf for the Lady to let him out.

  You’re very welcome, Oliver replied, then closed the link. Atlan wondered if Oliver knew that it wasn’t merely catching up with a friend over lunch. It was hard to tell with the charming man who so puzzlingly worked for the most ruthless person he knew.

  He whiled away the next hour by doing another sweep of his rooms for more mic-records and camera sensors. He would do it again when he returned from his meeting with Emrick. Privacy wasn’t merely a preference anymore, and his absence would be the perfect opportunity to plant some.

  Finding none, he got dressed. The anticipation of leaving his rooms made him hum a meandering tune the whole while.

  Finally, it was time. When he tried the door, he found it miraculously unlocked. He poked his head out and found the two Black Knights still there, and his stomach sank. But they had moved from their usual posts, and appeared to be waiting for him. At his quizzical look, one of them gestured for him to go. He should have supposed they wouldn’t let him leave without a guard.

  Trying to look as innocent as possible, he wound his way up the floors and down the corridors to the entrance hall, where Emrick stood staring down at the crest of Seascape embedded in the floor. Atlan dared to look up at Oliver, whose smile was nothing but polite, though his eyes gave him a clear warning.

  Atlan understood, and nodded, following Emrick out the open doors. Oliver had vouched for him, and since he had no plans of escape today, he didn’t feel guilty. But what would happen next time? Would Oliver help him then?

  When they were two blocks away from Castle Tenny, Atlan glanced back and saw without surprise that the two Black Knights were following, several paces behind. He shared a look with Emrick, and they continued on toward The Waterfront.

  It wasn’t far. Emrick opened the door and Atlan was blown back by the amount of noise coming from the other patrons. Emrick led him to a booth by one of the windows, where they could see the Black Knights standing alert out on the street. Atlan had never been to The Waterfront, but Emrick must have, for it was the perfect place to have a conversation that would not be overheard. And it was pure luck that the Black Knights had opted to stay outside.

  They ordered lunch and began murmuring back and forth over their glasses. Just as before, Atlan couldn’t see any way out of Seascape where the Lady and her Black Knights wouldn’t stop him. She had eyes everywhere, and ways of stopping him if he was spotted, as he knew first hand.

  Atlan barely knew what he was eating as he congenially poked holes in one of Emrick’s ideas. It was a continuous debate: each of them would propose an idea, and the other found flaws in it.

  Then the most hopeless thought occurred to him.

  “What if,” he started, after a long moment of uninspired silence. “I make a bargain with Lady Naomi.”

  Emrick stared at him blankly over the bare wooden table. Their meal had long since been cleared away.

  “What if I offer to take the serum, in exchange for—”

  “No,” Emrick interjected. “No. I know your feelings about the serum right now—and they might change in the future—but it’s not something you should bargain with! It’s a massive commitment!”

  “You think I shouldn’t risk it for her?” Atlan argued, voice growing as loud as some of the rabble around them.

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” Emrick replied quietly, subtly reminding Atlan to lower his voice. “I’m saying it’s not something you should leap into, given your previous thoughts on the subject.”

  So Emrick knew how he felt about the serum, despite his efforts to keep it hidden. Before Atlan could open his mouth, Emrick said, “Don’t—you don’t need to apologize, or defend yourself, or whatever. You have your decisions, I have mine.”

  “But if I took it, Lady Naomi would surely let me leave, or use one of her—” Atlan’s eyes bulged, and suddenly he knew the answer.

  His next words came out in a tumbled whisper. “We’ve been thinking too small. If we’re going to go help Sylvia, we’re going to need something much bigger.”

  Emrick’s eyes widened as Atlan went on.

  “We’re going to have to steal one of Seascape’s jets.”

  * * *

  “Are you out of your mind?” Emrick hissed as he and Atlan strode out of the pub, having been told by the Black Knights that it was about time for Atlan to return to the castle.

  Atlan shrugged. He didn’t have long to talk to Emrick before he was locked back up in Castle Tenny, so he said very quietly, “I’ll link you once I figure out how to do it. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s monitoring my link, so don’t say anything outright, got it?”

  Emrick nodded, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed visibly.

  “You don’t have to help,” Atlan said gently. They were nearing the doors to the castle. “Telling me was help enough.”

  The Black Knights stood there, waiting for Atlan to enter. He could see Oliver standing at his post inside, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

  “Send me a link,” Emrick said, speaking normally now, and rais
ing his hand in farewell. “I’ll try and fit you into my schedule, but it’s pretty busy with the internship, you know.” A hint of a wink graced his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Atlan grumbled. “You’re very busy and important now, I get it. But see if you have time for your old friend now and again, all right?”

  With that, they parted. Atlan gave a friendly wave to Oliver, and begrudgingly headed for his rooms, pulling out his earlink as he went.

  The Black Knights were two unwelcome shadows trailing behind him. He began pondering his latest escape idea as he walked down the silent halls.

  The hydrojets, as he had heard Lady Naomi call them, were rarely used, and mostly secret—he had never even seen one, either with his own eyes, or on a vid. The hydrojets were one of the many remnants of the previous inhabitants of the island, from long before Seascape was founded, and before the world wars that had crushed civilization.

  When he was young, he had heard Lady Naomi mention them once or twice to Ingram, his father, when they had still been on speaking terms. It always seemed like a joke whenever she brought it up, usually whenever someone brought news of goings on in one of the Four Cities. Lady Naomi would joke that she should take a hydrojet and leap in to solve their problem for them. Atlan didn’t think it very funny now.

  He still didn’t understand Seascape’s inherent distrust of the Four Cities. He had been curious about them ever since he had learned about them in school, and even though they had also learned how Seascape was ex-communicated by the Cities, that had been a thousand years ago. He didn’t think there was any reason to continue the discrimination, but he knew he was the minority in this way of thinking.

  Arcera would still be united if the founders of Seascape hadn’t discovered the labs and underground storage facilities on the island. The discoveries had been both a gift and a curse, and the serum the final tipping point for the exile. The founder of Seascape—his own great-grandmother, thanks to the serum—Karalyn Arcere, never forgave her four brothers for casting her out over the islanders’ use of the serum.

  Why shouldn’t he use a jet to go help the Four Cities? He shook his head as he reached his rooms. It wasn’t a question of why not, but how.

  He shut the door in the faces of the Black Knights, and immediately began to comb his rooms for any new sensors. It was second nature after so many years of Lady Naomi trying to spy on him. No wonder his father didn’t speak to her anymore.

  The mic-record he found under his bed was no surprise. It was the first place he always looked. But even after combing the washroom, the fireplace mantle, his sheets and dresser drawers, he wasn’t quite content. The mic-record had been in such an obvious place, and it seemed rather suspicious that there would be only one.

  So he finally broke down and began to clean his desk. He threw some of his random scribblings into the fire, and sorted out his books, stacking them tidily on the floor while he cleaned. He pulled out every drawer, searching through their contents and feeling every edge. Finally, he found a tiny mic-record stuck to the bottom of one of the drawers, the one he had to yank several times to remove because it was so full.

  Both mic-records went into the fire, now crackling with the papers he had just fed it. Just in case, he decided to finish cleaning the desk, to make future searches easier at least. He couldn’t risk missing a sensor anymore. She had been relentless ever since he had refused the serum.

  An idea had been brewing in his mind while he had cleaned, and as he gazed at the sensors wriggling in the coals, their plastic melting, and their delicate wiring becoming useless, it became clear. His father. He would tell Lady Naomi that he wanted to go visit his father. It would get him out of Castle Tenny and out of the Lady’s grip, at least, to a place where he could think, and form a plan.

  From his father’s home in Brightstone, he might have enough privacy and time to find out where the hydrojets were kept, and how he could possibly hijack one. His father didn’t even allow the Lady’s Black Knights to enter his castle.

  He hadn’t visited his father in a year or so, having been busy finishing school and preparing for the Trials, but Ingram had come up to see Atlan’s performances during the Trials. The Lady had stiffly ignored her husband any time they were in the same place together, but Ingram had only had eyes for Atlan.

  When his father had moved back to his family home in Brightstone several years ago, Atlan had been given no choice but to stay in Castle Tenny. It was hard to contest the ruler of Seascape’s wishes. Still legally married for convention’s sake, his parents hadn’t spoken in some time. Atlan tried not to let it bother him.

  He didn’t begrudge his father for leaving, because he knew how bad it had become between his parents after almost two centuries of marriage. Some days he still wondered what it would have been like not growing up under the Lady’s thumb, and instead, with a parent that cared more about him, than his bloodline.

  After a quarter of an hour rehearsing what he was going to say, he linked to Oliver and asked to set up a meeting with Lady Naomi.

  Not a minute passed before Oliver linked back. Lady Naomi wouldn’t meet with him until tomorrow. Maybe she was getting back at him for his disobedience.

  He slumped onto his bed, and tried to picture the look on her face when he flew a hydrojet over Castle Tenny and escaped her reach, perhaps forever.

  Thirteen

  After waiting for over an hour in the place they usually met, Neve gave up on Sylvia. It was unusual for the Rider to forget about their sparring sessions, but perhaps Sylvia’s training mission had lasted longer than they had planned, and she hadn’t returned to the city yet.

  She rose to her feet, her stomach grumbling from missing dinner, and began to walk down the perimeter path back to Carlene’s shop. The air was thick with humidity, making the cool night air heavy on her skin.

  On her way back, Neve passed by the fields where the Defenders trained. She watched them out of the corner of her eye as she walked by.

  Every time Neve tried to train with other people, her shoes suddenly became too large for her feet, and her arms wouldn’t obey her commands—in short, she grew embarrassingly clumsy.

  Sylvia had taken pity on her and offered to train her in her spare time—which wasn’t much, due to the Rider’s schedule—so Neve took advantage of every second Sylvia could spare.

  Before reaching the shop, Neve stiffened at the tell-tale sound of boots pounding on the walkway, running in her direction.

  It was Amelia, one of the Defenders in Sylvia’s unit. Neve smiled politely, and called to the woman just before she passed by, “Is Sylvia back?”

  Amelia’s legs slowed to a halt, and she turned around to face Neve. It was then that she noticed tears streaked the woman’s face. The bottom of her stomach dropped out.

  “She was taken,” Amelia rasped. “The Scouts have her,” she said between gasps of air. “I’m sorry—I have to go tell her family.” And with that, she disappeared down the path as quickly as she had come.

  Neve stood dumbstruck in the middle of the path, as if she’d been bashed over the head. Taken. But Sylvia was the best Rider she had ever met! How could any of the Scouts have gotten close enough to her?

  And that drone of hers—Sylvia had shown Neve how it worked—how come she hadn’t seen them coming?

  Her empty stomach yanked her back to the present with a groan. Finally, she jerked herself out of the daze and began walking again.

  The light was on in the shop when she reached it, and she hesitated. She wanted to work on the eye protectors to distract herself, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go inside anymore, not knowing who she might encounter. If it was Falcon, she didn’t think she could stand the sight of him right now.

  Carlene had given Neve and Harry places to sleep in her own villa, but Falcon had been staying in the basement of the workshop. As a former Scout, not many had trusted him to stay in their homes, but Carlene had agreed to the arrangement after working with him for a few days
and deeming him mostly harmless.

  Neve walked straight past the shop and heaved a sigh. If Sylvia had been taken, her unit must have already informed the Governor and his people. She decided to go to the Citizen’s Hall and see what she could find out.

  Wondering how she might get an audience with the Governor at this time of day, she slipped inside the Hall, one half of its massive doors flung open to the night.

  The Secretary of the City, Ell, stood at his post in the foyer, busy going over a list of supplies with one of his aides. Neve wandered into the large common room to the right to wait to speak with him.

  The common room was cheerfully lit by a large fire, which glinted off the polished wooden benches and chairs grouped around it. Since it was around dinner time, the room was rather empty, save for a handful of Defenders sitting in a cluster by the fire.

  She edged into the room, intending to grab Ell’s attention as soon as he was free, so she hovered in front of an old notice board.

  Bits of paper in varying sizes were pinned here, one on top of another in a quilt of announcements, items for sale, and requests for service. The ink had begun to fade on some from the light that spilled in through the large ceiling windows, and there hadn’t been any new posts in months, judging from the state of them.

  Neve reached out to pull an old request for a Rider closer when she heard loud and riotous high-pitched giggling coming from the hallway.

  She spun around and spotted the source of what seemed an inappropriate noise—Gero’s daughter, Cari, toddling down the hall toward the front door.

  Without thinking, Neve reached out to stop the girl, who was all too ready to jump unsteadily down the steps. Her father came trotting down the hall after her.

  “Thanks,” he said with a smile, and Neve let go of the little girl’s hand when she reached for her father.