The Crystal Curse

by Gin Hollan

  “I'm starting to like you less these days,” Sam said, frowning.

  “I think the babysitting part includes somebody stirring it on a regular basis, but he didn't say what interval," Arabeth said. “I doubt they can be left alone.”

  "We can get them started and ditch them somewhere," Graham said. "Or leave them here, soaking."

  "Is that what we call ethics, Graham?" She stared a moment then walked over to the hand pump.

  "It's what we call survival," he muttered.

  "At least you were half-right about the water bath," Melanie added.

  Sam wasn't much of a talker, and being up by the horse kept him out of ear shot. Arabeth wanted his input, but she expected he'd side with her. That was getting annoying. Where was the Sam that irritated her on purpose, challenged her to in order to get her thinking in new directions, or made her worry when he acted funny?

  // Chapter 15 //

  "That's Owen?" Sam asked.

  Standing at the peak of a long, steep hill was what looked like a large metal box with one large window on each side; not quite big enough for the group plus horse and wagon to stand in.

  In a perfect circle around the base of the hill, ten brick and steel steam and exhaust vents rose up at least a hundred feet. Between them sat ten metal posts standing five feet tall. At the top of each post was a panel with seven unmarked buttons.

  "I'm just telling you what the map says. This," Melanie fanned her arm out across the scene in front of them, "is Owen."

  "Wait, folks... just you wait," a man's voice came calling out from one side as he jogged toward them. "Not getting me fired today; not for heeding the call of nature." A young man in his mid-twenties stopped in front of them, leaning forward to catch his breath.

  Relieved, the group turned to wait for him to come explain this situation.

  "Welcome to Owen. What is the nature of your visit?"

  Everyone looked at Arabeth.

  "I'm looking for a relative,” she bluffed. “Last name is Barnes. I heard he set up here."

  "Barnes, eh? Well, that's a good name to have, if you share it."

  She nodded and pulled out her Bail Enforcement Permit. "I'm Arabeth Barnes." She stuck her hand out to shake his, a little surprised.

  "That's as good as a ticket in," he said. "I see you thought well enough to pack light. Walk with me. I have to say, not many travel in the daylight these days, with the sun being so intense."

  "Once I make my mind up, there's little can be done...." she let the thought trail off.

  "Yes, yes. You're a Barnes," he said with only a little sarcasm in his tone. "And I'm the Lift Master. Follow me up.”

  It took a good fifteen minutes to get up to the metal box and once there, it seemed no larger than before. Now that she had a good vantage point, she looked across the saw what looked like four more of these cleared hills, with stacks of smoke and steam spread out in the distance.

  “All right. All of you, inside," he said, grabbing a broad metal handle near the base of the metal structure. Pulling, the side of the wall lifted with ease. Inside, Arabeth spotted a pulley system and nodded.

  "How is this powered? It's all pulleys and winches, right? Is the winch manual, or powered?" she asked.

  The young man looked at her, frowning. "I push this button, it goes down. Push the buttons below, it goes up, or down further, or where ever." He shrugged and waved them in.

  "Electric, then," Arabeth said.

  “Probably. They don't tell us much about it,” he shrugged.

  "And it's Multi-directional? That must be a nightmare of engineering and maintenance," Graham said.

  “If you don't mind,” the young man said as he indicated they should get inside.

  "Should we leave the wagon outside?" Sam wondered. “I can carry the box by hand.”

  "I think we're okay," Melanie said. “I didn't see anywhere to leave it parked outside.”

  The door closed with a solid thunk and immediately started rattling as it descended. Arabeth felt the dim light confine her as the entire carriage descended. Her escape from the tunnel was too fresh, and she was sure this smelled the same. Reaching out, she grabbed Sam's arm. Just to steady her feet, she told herself, ignoring the spike in her heart rate though it pounded in her ears.

  Moments later, light flooded in through the carriage windows and the door reopened. Instead of leaving, they stood almost frozen in place. Ahead lay a wide cobblestone path, but no more than fifty feet away there was an impossibly tall transparent barrier.

  Through the glass, another 50 feet away, was a pillar that rose up out of sight, and descended to depths she couldn't see from here. Inside, there rose and fell a series of staircases and what looked like tree swings, except that these ones were being used by people to change floors. Every direction led to a wall, though. They were fully underground.

  "We'd better get off the lift," Arabeth said, stepping forward once, still clutching Sam's arm. She realized what she was doing and let go, stepping forward again.

  "Yes, let's...." Sam replied, leading the horse and wagon forward, making space for Melanie and Graham.

  The four of them stood at the glass wall facing the centre, each silently looking at the many-tiered garden, with healthy green plants growing in a column. Swing-lifts raised and lowered people changing levels and trimming them into baskets. The light in the centre was brilliant.

  "I don't understand... we're underground, right?" Melanie asked.

  "It is kind of bright in here, isn't it?" Arabeth nodded. Arabeth glanced at the horse. It must have been here before, she decided, as it stood looking entirely bored. That or it was so dull to life that nothing phased it. How old was that horse?

  "That lift stops at about the middle floor, I think. And we seem to be about ten stories down," Graham said, gaining confidence as he continued to examine his surroundings.

  "Can't be afraid of heights and live here," Melanie said, softly, starting to look around.

  Wanting to get them back on task, Arabeth shrugged. "We need to find their external transport system.” She'd send them along home, then grab one that took her to where ever the King lived. Suddenly she regretted the loss of her listening device and sighed.

  “That's assuming they have one,” Graham said.

  “Obviously," Sam replied.

  “This place seems big enough and is far enough away from other places to need one,” Arabeth said, still staring at the enormous tower garden.

  "These underground shuttles are supposed to be a secret. What would they use to mark them without giving them away?" Sam suggested.

  "Maybe," Arabeth said, turning left and right to pick a direction.

  “Wait, what underground shuttles?” Graham asked.

  “Ah... right. It's kind of one of those need-to-know things, where you swear on your life to never mention it outside a certain circle of people,” Arabeth said, hating how melodramatic it sounded. “You'll know it when you see it.”

  “That's not at all helpful,” Graham grumbled, looking at Melanie. “Did you know about this?”

  She shook her head. “But I trust Sam and Arabeth. They've always done right by me.”

  "We're going to want to sell or give away the horse and wagon. Let's look for a stable first," Sam suggested, ignoring Graham's concerns.

  "I hope they have one. I don't see any horses wandering around, although there are a number of people with conveyances doing the job of the wagon," Arabeth said said.

  "Are... are they hovering? The carts are floating... am I seeing this right?" Melanie asked, only now spotting one.

  "They must use magnetic systems," Arabeth said.

  "At least it feels like a city," Graham said. "That I understand. All that forty days in the wilderness stuff...."

  "We've been in Vensay for five days," Melanie corrected. “Not forty.”

  "Whatever. I'll be happy if we never see another forest," He said.

  "Excuse me! Excuse me! Wait one moment." A
man resembling the one from the surface but with spindly legs and a red tunic hurried over. "Are those the Faratson crystals? From Sebastian Faratson."

  Arabeth nodded. “I suppose, but they're neutralized.”

  He tapped a small panel strapped to his arm and the wall behind him opened to reveal a narrow passageway. "You can leave the wagon here until you need it."

  Arabeth didn't know if that meant the horse too, but the lack of light and provisions said no. “Sam, help,” she said as she started to undo the simple harness. “I don't think the pony goes in there.”

  "The what?"

  “Horse. Sorry, she's small. More like a pony.”

  “I'm going to need your permit, too," the man said.

  They glanced at each other. “Sorry, do we need a permit?” Melanie asked.

  "This is our first visit," Sam said.

  The man looked at him then nodded. "Fine. Follow me." He shut the wall, enclosing the wagon.

  She would be perfectly happy the crystals right where they were. Something told her they would insist she didn't leave them behind.

  "The registry office is this way," he said as he walked off briskly.

  // Chapter 16 //

  "We need a permit for a horse and wagon?" Sam wondered.

  "Can't be far. I don't see any horses wandering around, although there are a number of people with conveyances doing the job of the wagon," Graham said.

  "So - those carts are really floating... am I seeing this right?" Melanie asked.

  "Like I said, they must be magnetic," Arabeth said.

  The group travelled slower than their guide, caught up by the sights and sounds around them, and he had to turn around to make sure they followed when he turned a corner.

  The office was a tall space, easily two stories in height and narrow, funnelling people to a single counter. The counter was staffed by a young girl who stared at the horse almost the entire time they were there.

  A series of simple questions like, how long had they been Modding - clarified as Tinkering - had they done a full apprenticeship, or been sponsored in, and who was their mentor, got them a palm-sized piece of paper with the city seal on it, stating they were approved Modders with access to areas 248 through 351.

  As they left the room, Arabeth saw a woman in formfitting green leather pants and vest over a white blouse leaning back against a rail. She stood with arms and ankles crossed, and stared a moment before standing up and walking toward them.

  "Follow me. I'll take you to the Modder's area." She waited for them all to look before she turned and walked away as though there was no second question involved.

  "I'm sorry, where are you taking us?" Arabeth asked.

  "I'm taking you to the Modder's lair. Don't mind the name - it's a term of affection. Most of what goes on in this place is their responsibility. Our civilization is a constructed one. Now, if you don't mind," she said without any hint of personality then turned and started walking away.

  Graham leaned over to Arabeth. "I think I'm in love."

  "You would be."

  "Not her... This place. The workings of it - I want to climb behind every wall and see what makes it tick, you know."

  "It does have it's moments," Arabeth admitted.

  Most of it seemed obvious to here. Winches, gears, levers. Where did they get their power from, though? If Arabeth could adapt their power source to run things at home, that would solve a lot of the power issues that they had. Blastborn was starting to grow upward instead of outward to conserve their already limited farm and glazing land.

  "Getting home sick yet?" Melanie joked.

  Startled, Arabeth laughed. "Actually, I was just thinking about home. Some of the things we learn here could be a real benefit back there."

  "How are you doing? The crystals must be out of your system by now, right?" Sam asked.

  Melanie walked on quietly for a moment. "I don't think so," she said quietly. "I'm starting to think this is permanent."

  "Any sign of that shuttle?" Arabeth wondered.

  "Are you sure they'll put up a sign?" Sam said.

  "No, but I can't think of how else they'd mark it in a place like this," she said.

  A smell drifted through, catching Arabeth's attention. Cinders. They had to be close to the Modders.

  Their guide stopped. "Chemistry or Physics?"

  "Pardon?" Arabeth said.

  "Which is your specialty?"

  "Oh... physics, I suppose. I've never had to classify it. I'm a generalist."

  "Ah, that's better! It's hard to find a good generalist. You'll enjoy the work."

  "That's me as well," Graham said. "I dabble in all of it."

  "Splendid. Stephen will be happy to meet you."

  "Wait, what's going on?" Sam said.

  "Aren't you here for the contest? Isn't that why you've brought crystals and travel under guard?" she asked, eyes locked on Sam.

  "Right, the contest. No one has said a word about it since our arrival. Where do we sign in?" Graham asked.

  "We're almost there. I take it you'd rather do the tour after that? With a Seer in your group, I'm sure a report must be pending.”

  "Yes, that would be good, thank you." Arabeth said, going along with Graham's ploy. This was some luck, wandering in during a Tinker's competition. What was the objective, she wondered? Her plans to head home were shelved without a second thought. But what was a Seer? Or rather, who... ah, Melanie. That brought her back to the What. What did a Seer do, and did Melanie know she was being talked about like that?

  "They'll assign you quarters and you'll be assessed before being put on a team. Things get started first thing in the morning. Wait here. I'll give them your names and you'll be called."

  "You know who we are?"

  "Naturally. You put them on the permit. I can read, you know," she rolled her eyes as she walked away.

  "Quick, what names did you put down for us?" Graham asked. "You didn't use our real names, I hope."

  "Of course I did. I'd already said I'm Arabeth Barnes. It would be odd if somewhere on the lift I'd switched identities, don't you think?"

  "Yes, yes, but what about my name?"

  "Are you hiding something, Graham?" Sam asked.

  "We all are, in case you forgot. Suppose someone here is a historian. Remember that we're from a group of outcasts, right? Exiles." He said, his eyebrows raising as high as they could.

  "Mister Graham Halister," a man in a long blue jacket called out.

  Graham dropped his head and took a deep breath. "Yes, that's me." He looked up and walked over

  "Your master's invoice?"

  "Master? I have no master? What do you mean?"

  "Aren't you here, competing for release of a debt or indenture?"

  "What? No! That's ridiculous." He turned to look at the others, looking panicked.

  Arabeth straightened and walked over, surprised to finally find a use for her Finishing School lessons. "What is this about indenture? You must have misspoke. This is an open competition, for rank. For family distinction."

  The man stood up straighter and brushed a hand down one side of his jacket. "Sorry Miss. You're early if that was your objective. That is next month. What is your name?"

  "Barnes. Arabeth Barnes, granddaughter of Percival Barnes, inventor of the Elonium Guidance Tube."

  "Barnes!" he barked a little too sharply. Lowering his voice he continued. "Can you prove you're a Barnes?"

  "What do you need?"

  He frowned as if she should understand.

  With a heavy sigh, Arabeth pulled out her pocket watch and handed it over. Few knew the truth of the watch, and those who did guarded it's secret. Inside a hidden back cover there was an engraved note from the now dead King talking about his gratitude for long service and release from all debts and debtors, and future freedom for five generations to come. He was quite a florid talker, so it covered both sides of a small metal insert as well as the inside back of the watch.

  Arabeth tw
isted the chain fob to sit sideways and pushed it down. The back popped open. Eyes wide, the man reached forward then pulled his hand back, leaning forward to read instead.

  "I've only heard the stories," he whispered. "He was the best King any nation could hope for, to push back the withering horde, leading the charge himself. The last of the great magics. It would be the stuff of fiction, if it hadn't been witnessed by armies and scribes alike. And this is one of his inscriptions."

  Arabeth pulled the watch back, closing it. "Yes, he was." Maybe her grandfather hadn't been as off-the-nut as her family wanted her to believe. She loved him dearly, but his stories were a bit wild.

  "Take good care of that, Miss. Not many can sport an heirloom like that, and fewer carry it with them. Now for the matter of your identity." He turned and pulled a small metal lancet out of a paper pouch and held it up. "Would you prefer privacy for this Miss?" There was a small crowd of his co-workers nearing.

  Arabeth shook her head. She hated every moment of this. Hated the day she found out her blood was different. She closed her eyes and held out a finger for him to jab. "Let's just get on with it."

  He poked her finger and held a dark purple light up, shining on her hand. They watched closely as a swirl of red and silver rose up out of the tiny wound.

  "Silver!" A woman had been passing and out of curiosity had stopped to eavesdrop. "It's true."

  Arabeth turned her head to look. The woman blushed and hurried away.

  "You want the truth of your heritage, and why we've been close friends for so long, here it is." She looked at clerk. "Her, too."

  Melanie froze. "What do you mean?"

  "You'll see."

  Melanie held her finger out as the man retrieved a fresh lancet. She stared at Arabeth, her expression a mix of disbelief and terror. The clerk jabbed her finger as well, and everyone closed in to watch. Hers was a swirl of red and silver as well.

  "Is this why no one gives you real trouble? They know this about you?" Graham blurted.

  "It has no meaning back home,” Arabeth said. “I've been told it's common in Blastborn.”

  "Oh, I see." Melanie said, still confused. “But why me?”