by Ally Condie
“Maire really believed there could be more sirens?” Bay asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Hidden ones.” There might be more people like me.
Of course there might be more like Nevio, too.
“Maybe, if there are any sirens left Below, and they knew that they were safe to speak, they could cry out to the gods to help us,” True says. “Or maybe they will be heard Above somehow. They are miracles, after all.”
“We need to tell the people,” Bay says. “Whether they die or live, they need to know the truth. They need to send their voices, siren or not, up to the gods and to the people Above to beg for their lives. They need to agree to change, too.” Bay pauses. “But it can’t be a siren who tells them.”
She’s right. I know it. I know she was born for this. She has always loved Atlantia; she has always heard the city breathing. Thinking of the greater good comes naturally to her. She could have been the next Minister if she hadn’t always been so busy protecting me. “How are you going to get Below?” I ask, and Bay turns to look at me in surprise. And then she smiles.
“They are sending one more transport down tonight,” Ciro says. “There are a few Council members of the Below who have been granted asylum who were not in the initial group. I may be able to get you on board that transport, hidden somewhere. I have a favor I can call in. But we must be certain we want to spend it on this.”
“Can you think of anything else we might do?” Bay asks.
Ciro pauses for a moment, then shakes his head. “I will ask those here to speak for the people Below. But perhaps the gods cannot answer our prayers until both the Above and the Below plead together.”
We are all silent for a moment. The temple storage room smells like stone and books and old cloth, just like the temple Below.
“Then I will go,” Bay says. “You believe you can arrange it?”
“Yes,” says Ciro the Minister. “I am sure I can get you to the Below. But I don’t know that I will be able to bring you back.”
“I understand,” she says.
“And I can’t guarantee your safety in the Below,” Ciro says. “How do you think your Council will react when they see you?”
“I’ll do my best to avoid them,” Bay says. “I’ll try to slip out of the transport and go straight to the temple, as fast as I can. There are people there who will help me.”
“What about the peacekeepers?” Fen asks. “And the other citizens of Atlantia? No one has ever come back who chose the Above. You don’t know what they’ll do. They might be angry or afraid when they realize you’ve returned.”
“Maybe if they see me,” Bay says, “they’ll think of her. Of our mother.”
“I’m coming, too,” Fen says.
“No,” Bay says. “You know what the change in pressure did to your lungs on the way up. You can’t risk that again.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No,” Bay says. “You won’t.”
Something passes across True’s face, his kind, laughing face that has always known the sun before he even set foot on the sands of the Above.
True should go back, too.
He knows it and I know it.
If he goes, he’ll tell the people what he can do. Perhaps he’ll find out that there are more like him. It’s possible. The citizens of Atlantia have been hiding our real selves from one another. If there could be more people like me, there could be others like True.
Would those Below be more willing to let the sirens live among them if they knew there were some who could tell when the sirens spoke lies or truth?
And True has always known that he loved the Below. He has always known that he belonged there.
He and I rode in that gondola together through the fog, but we have always had our own journeys, and I have known that from the beginning. I’ve felt it somehow.
Perhaps that is why I was so afraid to love him.
“It’s the best way for you to help save us,” I say.
True’s jaw is clenched and I see tears in his eyes.
“We made it Above, together,” I say, and though I don’t use my real voice, I know he hears it, as he always has. In front of everyone, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my palm.
“I’ll go with you,” he says to Bay.
“What?” Fen asks, surprised.
“We have to go now,” Ciro says. “There isn’t much time before they’ll send the transport down.”
Bay looks at me, and for a moment the question passes between us—should I go, too? We don’t know how long I can last up here. And if she and True both go back, then everyone I love will be Below.
I see the realization on Bay’s face the minute I feel it in my own heart. I feel us coming closer, the time and space of our separation dwindling the more minutes we spend together. We have been apart, but we are one again now, the same thoughts, the same purpose.
And we both know that I have to stay here.
Maire sacrificed everything to bring me Above. It was so I could do something here, not so I could go back Below. Not yet. I haven’t yet done what I came to do.
I came to speak.
“Tonight,” I say to Ciro the Minister. “In the temple. When Nevio speaks. I need to try to say something to the people.”
Ciro nods. “I will help you,” he says. “I will make sure that we get you to the pulpit.” And I wonder if he has guessed what I am, though none of us have said it out loud.
“No,” Bay says. “Then Nevio will know you’re here. It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous for you, too,” I say. “But we will be speaking at the same time, or close to it.” Maire said I would know when it was time, and I can tell that it’s coming. Can Bay feel it, too?
She puts her hand to her mouth, and her eyes well with tears. She does.
She knows I could die up here, and I know she could die down there.
And I know I will mean it more, I will ask for Atlantia with all my heart and voice, when the lives of everyone I love depend on what I say. That way, the people Above can hear my love for True and Bay—my missing them—in my voice. And hopefully, though she’s not a siren, the people Below will be able to hear Bay’s love for Fen and me.
To save our city, we have to leave the ones we love.
To save our city, we have to love each other more than ourselves.
Which is how much, I now know, Maire loved my mother. And it’s how much Bay loves me.
She came up here to try to save me. Now we are both going to have to try to finish what our mother and our aunt began—the saving of the sirens, of Atlantia itself.
I pull my sister close and she wraps her arms around me tight. “At least you know why I’m going this time,” she says, and I smile but I’m very close to tears. I do know why, but as it turns out, that does not make it easier.
CHAPTER 28
Fen and I risk a moment outside to watch them go. The enclosed back courtyard of the temple opens out onto a busy street, and once they are gone—Bay and True and Ciro, three figures swallowed up quickly in the massive city of the Above—Fen and I linger in the courtyard for a moment. Once we’re back inside, we will have to hide and wait, and neither of us is made for that. Even though illness has taken its toll on Fen, he still has a restlessness, an aliveness about him. I would have liked to see him race when he was well. I think he would have been fast and reckless and good.
I wonder what he would have thought of me.
I can’t keep from glancing up at the sun—hot and round and white at this hour of the day, hard to look at but wonderful to feel. It’s not lost on me how strange and marvelous this is—my seeing the sun, feeling it on my face.
“What are you thinking?” Fen asks.
“That I’m lucky to see the sun,” I say.
“Don’t look directly at it,”
Fen says. “It can burn your eyes.”
And right then I feel something, some pressure on my heart and mind, and it’s not just sorrow. Fen’s face is the last thing I see before the world goes black inside my head.
I can’t see, but I’m still here, and the sun is still hot.
“Hold on,” Fen says. I feel his hands on my wrists, gentle, steadying me. Fen smells like sweat and dirt. I want True. “Can you walk?” Fen asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Hold on,” Fen says again. His voice sounds far away. I feel him guiding me, and then the heat of the sun is gone, and my feet hit the familiar-feeling surface of the temple floor. We are back inside.
“Keep walking,” Fen says. “I’ll help you.”
I hear the surface change to the wooden floor of the room where we were hiding before, and I hear a door close, and then it gets dark all the way through me.
“Rio,” Fen says, but his voice is not one that can call me back.
Light appears in the corner of my vision. Soon the rest of the interior of the storage room comes into view—the closet, the dusty books on shelves.
“How long was I down?” I ask Fen, who sits near me, holding one of my hands.
“A while,” he says. “It’s afternoon now.” He lets go of my hand. “The Above isn’t good for you.”
“Not for you, either,” I say.
Fen starts to cough. It’s my turn to put a steadying hand on him.
“I wish you were Bay,” he says to me, between coughs.
“I wish you were True,” I say, and that makes Fen laugh and cough harder.
“Can you convince the people Above?” Fen asks, his voice raspy. “Can you do this?”
I remember what Maire told me, just before she saved me. The only chance of success is to trust in your own power.
“Yes,” I say. “I can.”
We hear someone at the door to the storage room. Could it be Ciro? Already?
I glance at the door and see that Fen locked it, the way Ciro told us to before he left. The handle is moving. It’s someone with a key. It could be Ciro, but if it’s him, why hasn’t he said anything?
Without a word Fen and I both head for the closet at the back of the room. I go inside first. Fen pulls it shut and locks it from the inside, and we hide behind the heavy robes. Even if they find a way to open the closet door, it’s deep enough and dark enough that they might not see us.
“I don’t have a key to the closet in here,” someone says, the cultured tone of his accent reminding me of Ciro, though it is certainly not him. The door to the storage room opens, and I hold my breath. “But perhaps this room itself will work for what you need?”
“Yes,” another man says, and I stiffen.
It’s Nevio.
Fen puts his hand on my arm. He thinks I’m going to pass out again, but I’m not. In fact I feel perfectly clear, the best I’ve felt since I was in the water coming to shore. Because I hear other noises. Gentle rustlings. Plaintive cries.
The temple bats are here.
Nevio must have brought them up with him when he came. But why? Is he kinder than I thought? Even though he killed all the sirens, did he have mercy for Atlantia’s second miracle?
“This will be enough space until we have more permanent quarters for them,” Nevio says, his voice rich and gorgeous, even more sonorous than it was Below. “I appreciate your allowing them to come live here. The temple will feel the most like home to them. Their caretaker is coming up on the next transport, and he will see to their upkeep and feeding. But for now this room will be sufficient.”
“Do they have trouble living away from Atlantia?” the other person asks. I wonder if he’s a member of the Council of the Above. “I know the sirens couldn’t last for long up here.”
“No,” Nevio says pleasantly. “The bats did not originate Below, as the sirens did. The bats are creatures of the Above that managed to stow away and survive the trip to Atlantia long ago.”
“So they’re not miracles?” the Council member asks.
“Of course not,” says Nevio. “The bats are simply creatures that were meant to be Above and were trapped somewhere else, much like myself and the rest of the Council of the Below.”
One of the bats cries out.
“In fact,” Nevio says, “the bats do very well up here. Before we made you the gift of the sirens, we sent up some of the bats for your scientists to study. They determined that these little animals can survive—even thrive—up here, though they apparently have a bit of a penchant for flying over the water at night.”
“But we must not let them do that,” the Council member says, trying to assert his authority. “We have to keep them caged. We can’t have creatures that once lived Below flying around freely in the Above.”
“I agree completely,” Nevio says. Is there an edge to his voice, or do I imagine it? But I am heartened to hear that the Council Above intends to oversee Nevio and the others.
Of course, Nevio may have other plans.
As soon as we hear them leave, I lunge for the closet door, pushing it open. Fen hisses at me to come back, but I have to see the bats. They tremble in their cages, but Nevio’s right. They seem healthy enough—bright eyes and clear breathing. It’s the cages that make them afraid.
“They’re not supposed to be locked up like this,” I say. “Especially not when night comes. That’s when they’re meant to fly free.”
“Why do you think he saved them?” Fen asks.
“I have no idea,” I say. I lean toward the cage, and some of the bats chatter their way closer to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they remember me. “But I know it’s for some selfish reason of his own. Not because he actually cares about them.”
“Nevio is rotten, all right,” Fen agrees.
Should I trust Fen? Should I tell him that Nevio is a siren?
True would tell Fen. True would trust him.
So I do.
Fen’s eyes widen in surprise but not for long. “I should have known,” he says. “It explains everything.”
“I know,” I say. “I can’t believe it took me so long to realize what he is.”
“But if he’s a siren, how does he plan to survive up here?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “He’s a different kind of siren than we’ve ever seen before. Maybe the Above doesn’t affect him.”
“He’s the people of the Above’s worst nightmare,” Fen says. “When you speak tonight, you have to tell them what he is.”
“But if I do that,” I say, “they’ll think they were right about the sirens. That the sirens can’t be trusted, that they should all die. I’ll never convince the people of the Above to let Atlantia live that way.”
“You’re right,” Fen says. “I didn’t think of that.” He bends down to look more closely at the bats, and they eye him balefully, which makes him laugh. “They like you,” he says, pointing to my hand, which I’ve rested on the cage. They don’t seem to mind, and they are calming down.
“I think I might be familiar to them,” I say. “I used to clean the temple trees, where they loved to roost. But the temple trees have no leaves anymore. They’ve all fallen.”
“They have?” Fen asks. “What else has changed?” I hear homesickness in his voice, and longing.
“Atlantia is breaking,” I say. And then I realize we didn’t even have time to tell Fen and Bay about the deepmarket. “The deepmarket drowned,” I say. “There was a breach.”
“No,” Fen says, sounding horrified. “How many died?”
“Hundreds of people,” I say. “And the bats were starting to die, too.” I take a deep breath. I think the bats are calming me.
“So what are you going to do tonight?” Fen asks. “How are you going to get around Nevio? What are you going to say?”
“I d
on’t know.”
“You have to think of something,” Fen says, growing agitated. “This is Bay’s life you’re asking for. And True’s.”
“Did Bay tell you? What I am?”
“She said that you had a secret,” Fen says, “and that it was yours to tell. But I think I’ve figured it out.”
He’s smart. I can see why he caught her eye, why he has a hold on her heart.
“You’re a siren,” he says very quietly.
“Yes,” I say.
And then Fen leans forward, coughing again, this time sounding even worse than before. Someone is going to hear us. He has to stop. I take my hand away from where I’ve been resting it on the bats’ cage and put it on Fen’s back. Soon he’s quiet and his breathing settles.
“I’ll wear the mask from now on,” he says. “I promise. It’s just—I hate it. I feel like I’m drowning when I have it on.”
“I understand perfectly,” I say.
He looks at me. “I guess you do.”
He pulls the mask over his face and we settle back inside the closet to wait, closing the door.
“I heard there was another civilization that lasted as long as we have,” Fen says after a while, softly. “They separated their people, too, around the same time we had the Divide. Some stayed on land, and the others went into the sky. Maybe those people are up there, watching us now. Maybe they’re waiting for this to all play out, and then they’ll come down and take what’s left.”
“People up in the sky? That sounds like the gods.”
“I don’t believe in the gods.”
“Bay does.”
“I know,” he says. “Do you?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
Then we hear someone open the door to the storage room.
“Do you have the key to the closet?” a voice asks, and Fen and I both stiffen in recognition.
It’s Nevio again.
“Yes,” someone says. He’s not the same person who came with Nevio before, but I can tell from this man’s accent that he is also from the Above. “I think it’s this one. It was in his pocket.”