by Ally Condie
“For years there have been people up here listening. Not everyone Above wants us to die. People here believe the shells and the voices must be from the gods. No one knows how else such a miracle could have happened.”
But I do.
Maire was the miracle.
She saved the voices.
I discovered long ago that some of the best voices can be heard in the prison walls. She told me that earlier. I wonder if those are some of the stories she sent up. People trapped, wanting to be free.
When Maire saved Bay’s voice for me in that first shell, it must have been without Bay knowing. That explains why Bay was singing, not giving me a message. The secret of saved voices in shells was between Maire and Oceana, and then between Maire and me. She shared it first with her sister, and then with a siren.
Maire couldn’t have known that Ciro would find the shells. She just hoped that someone would.
“The people here have heard our stories,” Bay says. “They feel like they know us.”
“But they still don’t believe the sirens are human,” True says. “They killed them.”
“Some still hate the sirens,” Bay says. “But there are many, like Ciro, who believe the sirens are human, too, and that getting rid of them is wrong.”
“That’s better than some of the people Below,” I say. “Not many of them think that sirens are human.”
“Rio,” Bay says, and then she stops. What can she say? I’ve had to spend my life hiding my voice, and she’s had to spend her life protecting me, and that’s not what either of us would have chosen. We’ve both suffered because of what I am.
No. Not because of what I am. Because of the way people fear those who are different, when really we are so much the same.
“There’s something I still don’t understand,” I say. “If siren voices are so powerful up here, how did the people Above resist the sirens on the island?”
“I don’t know,” Bay says.
I wish Bay and I didn’t have to talk about all of this. I wish we didn’t have to think of sirens and saving. I could tell her that True kissed me and that I was fast, so fast in the lanes. She could tell me how she feels about Fen and what she dreams of becoming without a siren sister to protect. But there’s no time for that.
Will there ever be time for it again?
I sit down on the floor, suddenly weary. I put my head in my hands. It’s getting harder to breathe, and I can’t stop thinking of Maire.
I feel my sister’s hand on my back.
“There are people who will help us,” Bay says. “I’ve met many of them. They come to minister to those of us from Below who work in the labor camps.”
“What do you mean about working in the labor camps?” I ask. Fen coughs in the background, and he sounds horrible. “Fen doesn’t sound like he should be in a labor camp,” I say. “He sounds sick.”
That makes Fen laugh. “They don’t care about that,” he says. “They’re not concerned about our health.”
“They only let us keep coming up from the Below because we’re free labor,” Bay says.
“They think we’re stupid,” Fen says. “And they’re right. We don’t know the first thing about the way the world really is.”
“They work us to death,” Bay says. “We’re allowed a free hour or two at night, and that’s when we’re supposed to come into town and take care of whatever needs we might have. We make a single coin a day. It’s enough to buy only the smallest amount of food at the worst shops.”
“You know your sister,” Fen says, grinning at me. “Instead of getting anything to eat that first day, she headed straight for the temple.”
“It was good we did,” Bay says, “because we met Ciro. Now we come here every night.”
No wonder she looks exhausted, if she works all day and then comes to the temple in the evening.
“I’m sure that the gods would forgive you if you missed a few prayers,” I say.
Fen laughs again. “We don’t just come for the gods,” he says. “We come to show the people of the Above that we’re like anyone else.”
Fen starts coughing again, harder this time. It sounds terrible, dry and achy and bone-breaking. The air up here is still not clean, but he seems to be affected more than anyone else.
I glance over at Bay, at her tired eyes and her short hair, and I wonder if she cut it off because she couldn’t braid it without me, or if she cut it off so she wouldn’t have to remember me, or for a reason that had absolutely nothing to do with me.
“Please,” she says to Fen. “Put it on.”
I realize that she means the mask, which he holds at his side.
“I feel like I can’t breathe at all when I’m wearing that thing.”
“But it does help,” she says. “Even if you can’t tell. It buys you time.”
“We’re not sure of that,” Fen says. But he puts on the mask.
“The air Above,” I say, “is it doing this?”
“No,” Fen says, his voice sounding like mine now, flat and neutralized through the mask. “I have water-lung. I had it before I came Above. The air isn’t helping, but I’d be in trouble anyway. The mask helps me breathe.”
My heart sinks for my sister. There’s no cure for water-lung.
“How long have you known?” True asks, looking as stunned as I feel.
“I figured it out a few months before the celebration of the Divide,” Fen says. “I could feel it happening.”
“You didn’t tell me,” True says.
“I didn’t tell anyone. They sell stuff in the deepmarket that can help you keep from coughing so that no one will know. It’s not good for you, but I didn’t care. If I was going to die anyway, what did it matter? That’s when I started swimming in the night races, to keep my mind off things. And that’s where I met Bay. When I found out she was going Above, I decided to come with her.”
“We’ve learned since that there are doctors here who might be able to help Fen—they’ve gotten good at fixing people’s lungs with all these years of pollution—but no one will waste any time on someone from the Below,” Bay says.
“It’s all right,” Fen says. “We didn’t know that when we came. I just hoped to be with you and see the Above before I died.” He smiles at her and she smiles back immediately, lights up as hot and bright as the sun in an instant. She loves him.
And he’s in love with her. I can tell from the things he says and from the way he looks at her.
She told him she was leaving.
But she didn’t tell me.
Because she thought she had to protect me.
For a minute anger breaks over me as strong as waves against rocks. Anger at my mother and my sister, for loving me but always sheltering me. Anger at the people Below who want to contain the sirens and the people Above who want to kill them. And most of all, anger at the long-ago, greedy people who brought us to the point where the only way to survive was to Divide. Those people used up everything. They wasted the trees; they burned through the air. They didn’t care, or if they did, they didn’t care enough, and now we’re the ones paying the price of their extravagance.
I think Bay might be angry, too.
She has also been trying to hold things in all her life. Trying not to upset me so that I wouldn’t risk speaking too loudly, trying to build her own life around protecting me. It couldn’t have been what she wanted, but she did it anyway. When our eyes meet, I know we are both angry at each other and that we love each other, just as it has always been and will always be.
“Maire wasn’t supposed to die,” Bay says, and her voice breaks. “She and I talked about it, before I left. She was supposed to keep you from coming here. She was supposed to use her voice to keep you safe.”
Maire was supposed to use her own voice.
Instead she taught me about mine.<
br />
CHAPTER 27
It’s morning when Ciro the Minister opens the door again and comes back inside the temple storage room. I know as soon as I see his face that he does not have good news for us. “I’m very sorry,” he says. “My sources on the Council confirm that all the sirens are dead.” In that moment I hate him, I hate his voice, the way it sounds, what he’s saying.
“There were twenty-seven bodies retrieved from the island,” Ciro tells us.
Twenty-seven. There were twenty-nine of us on the transport, but that number included True and me.
There’s so much I want to say. But Maire said to wait. She kept telling me to wait.
Until when?
She said I would know.
“Are they sure that everyone died?” Bay asks.
“Yes,” Ciro says, glancing over at True and me. Ciro must have deduced that we came with the sirens—how else would we have come to the surface?—but he doesn’t say it out loud. “They seem quite certain that no one on the island survived.”
Maire’s voice worked, at least for a little while. She was the most powerful siren Atlantia has ever known. Why didn’t she save herself to save the world? Why did she think I should do it instead?
“Why would the people slaughter the sirens this way?” I ask. “The sirens can’t even live for long Above.”
“Some people are still fearful,” Ciro says. “They’re afraid that the sirens might find a way to survive up here. They wanted the sirens eliminated permanently. They didn’t want to take any chances.”
“So they killed them,” I say.
“How?” Bay asks. “I thought the siren song was more powerful Above. I thought there was no way to escape it.”
“The Councils of the Above and the Below found a way,” Ciro says. “Or, I should say, your Minister found a way.”
I feel cold. “Nevio,” I say. “Is he Above?”
Ciro nods. His expression and voice are hard to read. “He and some of the Council of the Below came up on a transport right before the sirens did. Apparently he, and the members of the Council he selected to come with him, are immune to the siren voices.”
“It was them,” True says, his voice soft as the sand. “They were the ones who killed the sirens.”
Don’t scream, I tell myself. Don’t speak. Wait. It’s not time yet.
It all makes sense now. Nevio didn’t come up with us. We thought he was coming up after, but he came up before. And then, with the Council members, the ones who killed my mother, he murdered the rest of the sirens. I don’t think he’d get his own hands dirty; he’d orchestrate it, the way he did my mother’s killing. I can picture him sitting on one of the boats and giving the command to mow down the sirens.
Nevio knew I was coming Above. He knew True was coming, too. He should know there are two missing. Why hasn’t he said anything?
Bay’s fingers find mine and she squeezes my hand.
Because Maire won.
Maire saved us.
She hid True and me from Nevio so absolutely, so well, that he forgot we came up at all.
She told the people to listen to her, and they did. It was for a single moment, but that moment was long enough to save our lives.
She was more powerful than the Council members who believed themselves immune. More powerful than their masks. More powerful than any of the other sirens.
In the end, she was more powerful than Nevio.
Why didn’t she save herself?
Why did she save us instead?
What did Maire mean when she said she cared enough about herself to want redemption?
Did she have to save us?
If she believed that, did that also mean she believed in the gods?
I know now with utter certainty that she believed in me.
“How could your Council agree to this?” Bay asks.
“They did not all agree to it,” Ciro says. “I did not agree to it, and neither did many others. We were unaware of the plan to kill the sirens. There is a great rift among us.” He takes a deep breath. “Nevio and the Council members who came up with him have been granted asylum here permanently. It is their reward for helping the Above rid themselves of the sirens forever.”
I should have known that Nevio could never be satisfied with the Below. He wanted the Above, too.
He and I are alike in that way, but I never wanted to rule the Above. I wanted to see it. To be a part of it.
I need to talk to Bay. I know Nevio’s secret. I know that he’s a siren. And she doesn’t.
“Tonight some of the Council plans to bring all the siren bodies here to the temple for a public viewing,” Ciro says. “I believe they hope to stir up public support for the death of Atlantia.”
“But maybe it won’t work that way,” Bay says. “Maybe if they see the sirens’ bodies, they’ll realize they’re human, like everyone else.”
“You can be sure the Council will make them appear as inhuman as possible,” Fen says.
They won’t even have to do that, I realize. The sirens did that themselves—the makeup, the clothes.
“There is more,” Ciro says. “The Council has invited a special guest to give a sermon after the viewing. Nevio will speak.”
Nevio. Of course. He can’t wait to use his voice here.
The people of the Above were right to be afraid, I realize. A siren has come along to control them, and this time they don’t even know that he’s doing it.
Nevio is using his voice on the people of the Above, just as he did on the people Below. He saw that Atlantia was dying, and so he decided to save himself and those who put him in power, those who helped him kill my mother. But how does he think he can survive up here long-term? Doesn’t he know that sirens die Above? Can’t he feel what I feel? I’ve been here for a matter of hours, and already I know I’m losing strength.
“Can’t you stop him from speaking?” True asks.
The Minister shakes his head. “I’ve tried. Our Council is broken. We are split into factions. Those who believe as I do are in the minority.” His voice breaks. It is such a normal voice, the voice of a person—perhaps of a very good, very wise person—but that is all. “I do not know how much longer I will be allowed to retain my position as Minister. Some are already suggesting Nevio as a replacement.”
Ciro cannot compete with Nevio.
True looks at me. Should we tell Ciro? I shake my head the smallest bit. How can we trust someone we haven’t known for very long with such a secret? Would he even believe us? And what could he do?
And I’ve had another thought. If I turn in Nevio, will they kill him? They might. My voice has to be pure if I’m going to use it the way Maire intended. It can’t have caused someone else’s death. Even Nevio’s.
“All the sirens are gone,” Fen says, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. He doesn’t know about Nevio, either, of course.
“We don’t know that,” I say. “Maire hoped there were more.” I don’t say the rest in front of Ciro, but I can tell that Bay knows what I mean. More like me. Hidden sirens. And there are potential sirens not yet born. I think of all those voices that might never have a chance to sing.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much time to mourn,” Ciro says. “We need to direct our attention to saving Atlantia. The Council majority has already begun debating how many people should be rescued from the Below. As it stands, anyone who hasn’t had a siren in her bloodline is considered suspect, because one could still appear. Those like you”—he looks at Bay and me—“who have a siren in your lineage might be allowed to come up and be rehabilitated.”
The Minister doesn’t know that I’m a siren.
Bay told him about Maire but not about me.
She’s still keeping me safe.
She says she trusts Ciro, but she hasn’t told him everything.
Something’s kept her from doing it. And if that’s the case, I’d better not tell him about Nevio.
Maire’s words come back to me. There are some things you only tell a sister. And some things you only ask of a sister.
Ciro looks at Fen. “They’ve also decided that anyone who has lost a family member to water-lung or who is infected with it themselves won’t be rescued.”
“But that’s most of Atlantia,” Bay says. “You’d be hard put to find anyone who didn’t have water-lung in their line somewhere. And if you also rule out all the lines that haven’t had a siren appear, there will be hardly anyone left that your Council considers worth saving.”
“I know,” Ciro says. “They are letting fear control them.”
“They are murderers,” Bay says. “Your people are murderers.”
“And so are ours,” Fen points out.
He’s right. The people of Atlantia have not fought for us. They have been afraid of us, too. They have forgotten to see sirens as human, only as lonely miracles, and in the end they are the ones who killed us when we came Above.
“But someone has to go Below,” Bay says, her face pale. “Someone has to tell the people there what Nevio and the Council have done to the sirens. And that the Council is leaving Atlantia to die.”
“Going Below won’t accomplish anything.” I have to work hard to contain the bitterness in my voice. “We don’t know that the people there will believe you. And even if so, what can they do?”
“Rio’s right,” Fen says. “There’s no reason to risk yourself for them.” He’s trying to protect her. And he sounds as angry as I feel.
“There’s every reason,” Bay says. She knows I won’t survive without Atlantia, but she can’t say that in front of Ciro or he’ll know what I am. She takes a deep breath. “The people living Below now have never known the full truth.”
“If you go down and tell it to them, what does that change?” Fen asks. “The Council up here will still condemn most of Atlantia to death.”