She cast a look toward the Tower, then back at the wall.
“Suppose it’s wise I’m out here then, eh?” Madrea laughed, shaking her head, then snapping her attention back to Lucille. “Speaking of mages, it's about time we got started then? Well go on, let’s see it. What can you show me, little skimmer?”
“Nothing,” Lucille murmured. Madrea handed her a kernel, brighter than Lucille was used to, and watched as Lucille struggled to draw the aurel energy from inside of her.
“Hmm,” said Madrea, “This will be difficult for you, very difficult. This is more severe than I had thought. But I do have good news, a wonderful silver lining to this.”
“And what is that?” Lucille asked, her ears perking upward, and she was on Madrea’s heels as she stood and walked to the edge of the wall, leaning against the crenellations.
“Whether I succeed in making you a mage or not, I no longer have to arrange my own funeral.”
Chapter 21: Lucille
At the gates of Heaven One, Lucille blinked, bringing herself back to the present. The rope concealing the kernels hung loose in her hand, swaying as she swallowed. Meeting Madrea had been over five years before, and she had long left that young Lucille behind. No, now she was a completely different person, someone new entirely, without a trace of her past.
That small girl was gone.
Shift change came for Lucille at midnight, and she filed away her records and the collected Keeper’s Cut in a lockbox chained to the Tower wall. Every seven days, it would be emptied by a higher ranking member of the Keepers—unlike the higher levels of heaven, some of which were removed on an hourly basis. But the risk to Heaven One was low. There was little to steal, and fewer who would sneak into the Tower to attempt it. She knew exactly how much was in it and had finished recounting the kernels for the second time when the two others entered to take over for the next shift, familiar faces in the glow of the mighty rune doors.
Lita, the first, boasted an ash tree lock, slightly above average among the Keepers her age. She was better known around the Tower for her admittance to the backup team for the Crystal Dancers over five years before. Every year, the Crystal Dancers performed at the Heavenfall feasting. To be on the team was to be the face of the Tower itself, showcasing beauty, skill, and a passion for the arts. Back then, she had been a shining star, immediately recognized for her natural skill and fluid movements. Some predicted that within a year of her recognition, she would advance to the performance team, and that perhaps within two years, she might even lead them. But that had been four years ago, and since her progression had stalled. While it was certainly a great honor to be on the backup team, it paled in comparison to what her former teachers had expected.
Miro was the boy joining Lita: Like her, he was within the wooden lock class. At that level, two were required to guard Heaven One—something of an over precaution, as even the lowest level Keepers could guard that uneventful gate with ease. Not as well as Lucille, of course, but adequately. Miro had barely achieved his pine lock, and from her time in school with him, Lucille remembered that he had not been particularly adept in his studies; rather, Miro had leaned on his charm and good looks, catching the eye of the entire female side of the class while rubbing elbows with the male side. But that wasn’t all that Lucille remembered as she clutched her own lock—one of oak, just under the ceramic classification.
As Miro and Lita caught Lucille’s eyes, she knew they remembered too. To those moments years before, before Lucille had ever met Madrea, when she was still attending general school. Where she was taught her letters, numbers, and histories, and most students found their first flourishing in runic talent. Lucille’s heart beat slightly faster as the echoes of her heavy breathing came back to her, as she sprinted down the halls of the school, the soles of her shoes slapping on the tile, and she fell into the memory.
Lucille cast a frantic look over her shoulder, her braid twisting with the motion to thump against her chest, and nearly fell as she realized her pursuers had gained on her, now only ten paces behind. Ahead, there was the practice gym, filled with equipment for her to hide among and multiple exits to escape. The perfect place for evasion.
She burst through the double doors, rushing into the larger expanse, making it halfway across the padded floor before skidding to a stop, her breath catching in her throat as she saw what awaited her. A metal bar was down across each of the exit doors, holding them shut, but they shouldn’t have been locked until later that night. Lucille knew she was not tall or strong enough to lift the bars away. Behind her came laughing, not with the strained breaths of someone who had been running hard to catch up, but rather the controlled cadence of a leisurely pursuit. Lucille whipped around as Lita and Miro filled the doorway she had just entered and walked toward her, fanning out to cut off her only escape.
“You think we couldn’t catch you?” Lita wore the uniform of the Crystal Dancers that year, the clothes cherry red and form fitting, with black gloves and stockings. Next to her, Miro’s hair was the same ruffled look that somehow managed to add to his appearance, along with boots that looked like they had been purchased that afternoon and a freshly steamed white shirt. “For someone who’s supposed to be so smart, you didn’t think of that, did you?”
“Took me ten minutes to lock all the doors,” said Miro. “I didn’t think it was worth it. I thought you’d turn away, but Lita was right. You bolted straight here.”
Lucille backed away, her thoughts racing. Last time Lita had chased her, she had used the gym to escape. She should have known it would be too predictable, that they would catch on.
“What do you want?” Lucille demanded, trying to inject authority into her voice, but the fear ate away at it, leaving it thin and reedy. Against one of them, her odds of escaping would have been fair. Against both, they were slim. And against both with only one exit, they were nonexistent.
“I want to know what a Keeper who hasn’t even a fabric lock is doing wearing level three kernels.” Lita smirked, pointing to Lucille’s forearm. Two days ago, Lucille’s mother had gifted a bracelet to her for her birthday, a circlet of beads sparkling with kernel shavings. Of course, had they been real kernels, the jewelry would immediately have been confiscated. Without a lock of the appropriate level, possessing them was forbidden. The chances of hurting oneself or another with kernels beyond one’s ability was too high, especially for someone not fully trained.
But these shavings wouldn’t have enough power for the weakest of castings, and Lita knew it.
“They’re not even real,” Lucille protested, but she already had unfastened the clasp, removing the bracelet and holding it out for Lita to take.
“Do I look stupid to you? Of course they’re not real. But for someone like you to be flaunting level threes around borders on sacrilege, doesn’t it, Miro?”
“Practically blasphemous. And as Keepers, is it not our position to uphold the law?”
“Of course it is. I would consider it our duty,” Lita continued, taking the bracelet from Lucille and slapping it on her own wrist. “I’ve never even seen you draw a rune, Lucille, for all your scores in written testing. Maybe if you think that you’re so worthy, you should prove yourself?”
“Obviously we must be mistaken,” said Miro. “I’d hate for us to have thrown a false accusation. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they, Lita? We’d be heartless if we didn’t give her one.”
“Of course we would,” said Lita, as malice entered her voice. “The very daughter of a High Keeper surely would have no problem proving her own worth. Perhaps, up until now, she’s just been humble.”
Something cold pressed against Lucille’s shoulders as she backed away, and she froze, goosebumps jumping up her back. She knew what the object was from watching the older students practice with it—a seam wall. A concrete slab ten feet high and five wide with a crack running down its center. When practicing runes, the point of the wall was to help students gain control over the strength
of their rune—to use severance to split the wall down its seam, pulling the two halves apart, before combining them together once more with bind. Too powerful, and the concrete would chip in other areas than the seam, and the two halves would rush apart, grating along the floor to the embarrassment of the caster. Too weak, and the seam itself would never split, the wall holding steady as if never touched.
Lucille had never attempted the seam wall, though she had seen others use it. Among those others were Lita, who as of a month prior was skilled enough to split the wall with only a few chips along the seam. With an internal Earth aurel, it had come natural to her.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Lucille. “I gave you my bracelet, now let me go! I’ll tell my mother about this.”
“Lucille, it was never just about the bracelet, it’s about your pride. And if you dare tell your mother, next time will only be worse.”
Next time? thought Lucille. That implied there was still more left to this time. She moved to the left, skirting the edge of the seam wall, funneled along that path by the advancing bodies. And the realization hit her as she caught sight of the other two seam walls waiting.
They formed a three sided box, one that she had just stepped inside. Bind had been applied to the corners, holding them together- and in front of her, off to either side, were the halves of a fourth split seam wall.
“Miro, I think she’s realized her trial,” said Lita, as Lucille made one last lunge to escape. Miro’s arm caught her, throwing her back into the boxed enclosure. Lita tossed something down at her feet, but Lucille was already staring at the rune the girl was now drawing, powered by a Heaven One kernel in her other hand. One that would shatter the kernel, its strength beyond the energy it could provide, but sufficient for the task.
Bind, applied to the two halves of the seam wall, and using Lita’s natural aurel of stone.
As she finished, the rune glowing a light gray, the two halves grated along the floor, gaining speed and slamming into each other with a clack that sent Lucille stumbling backward. Along the seam and corners, the slab sealed itself, forming the ten foot high box that now held Lucille in its dark center. She pushed against the wall, but it held fast, bound in place both by its mass and the runes.
“Any child of a High Keeper should simply be able to runework out of there, no matter their personal aurel,” said Lita. “It’s not even a hard rune, the first taught to children! And that’s also why I know you won’t tell your mother; because if you do, then she’ll know you were stuck here, and couldn’t help yourself. That you were an embarrassment to your family.”
Lucille heard the two of them walking away, and Lita called over her shoulder.
“By the way, thank you for the bracelet! It’ll look dashing on me when I reach the front line of the Crystal Dancers.”
Then the two of them were gone, leaving Lucille alone, trapped between the four walls of concrete. She reached down to what Lita had thrown at her feet, her sob no longer held back as she felt the full sting of the final mockery.
A kernel, and a source of stone aurel. The two tools that would allow any runecaster to easily break free of this prison. But which Lita knew would be completely useless to Lucille.
Lucille spent the next six hours confined there, until another student finally heard her shouting and freed her. By then, she had wet herself, unable to hold back after hour three, and cried as much from hunger as from the shame as he peeled away the seam wall as if it had been made of paper.
Lucille dashed away from the surprised Martin before he could talk. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment so deeply that for weeks she avoided him in the hallway. Martin had always been kind to her, but she’d also noticed the sharp tongue he held for those he disliked.
Lita had been right. As the teachers and later her mother interrogated her, her lips never uttered her imprisoners' names, and despite the obvious facts, she declared it as some sort of freak accident. That she had somehow wedged herself between the seam walls when trying to teach herself how to draw runes. Had it been truthful, Lucille would have been punished for practicing alone, but the lie was so feeble, her teachers cast away the punishments without a second thought. At least the punishments would have validated her story. Instead, the halls were filled with whispered rumors, and Lita’s knowing smile whenever she passed.
Now, back at the gate to Heaven One, Lucille blinked, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Lita and Miro stood there, waiting for her report on the day’s work. After that incident years ago, even before she had met Madrea, there had been a few others, but gradually the torments had lessened, then abruptly stopped, for reasons all three of them knew. Now Lucille cleared her throat, and sought their eyes.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said. “Beware of smugglers weaving kernels into ropes, seems a new trick they might be using. Total of three hundred and fifty-seven kernels in the safety box, all counted and labelled. My shift is ending now, you two take over.”
“Thank you, Lucille,” said Lita, bobbing her head, though she refused to meet her eyes. Miro shifted as well beside her, staring off through the gate of Heaven One as if the most interesting thing were occurring on the other side. They took their positions behind the desk, arranging the papers and checking that the table was cleared, then looking to where Lucille waited.
“And Lita,” Lucille said, her voice sharp, filled with the authority that had always fled it before, “three kernels were not labelled during your last shift, and two were missing. That’s absolutely unacceptable. If I see it again, you’ll be receiving not just a demerit, but also a suspension. There will be no slip ups at my gate. There are two of you, between you both you should be able to keep track. Am I understood?”
“Of course, Lucille,” Lita said as Lucille turned on her heel, then spoke over her shoulder.
“By the way, Lita, I adore your new necklace. It looks dashing on you.”
Then the door was shut behind her, leaving the two in silence, as she pushed away the memories of her past.
Chapter 22: Merrill
“I’m sorry, but Fel will not be available today. However, I’ve been trained in distributing his stores and running the register. I promise you: What he could provide, so too can I.”
The merchant across the table narrowed his eyes, looking Merrill over. She tensed behind the barrier of makeup between them, a variety she had bought from the market with the express reason of enhancing her age. It hadn’t been cheap, but it had been worth even the judgmental looks from the shop owner as she rang her up, then the offering of a dinner if Merrill was ever in need with a lecturing tone. When bought by someone her age, that makeup usually indicated an early career into whoring, but Merrill sought to deal with another type of men entirely.
Nineteen, she had decided, would be the most appropriate age. Old enough to conduct business, and young enough for the merchants to think she was inexperienced. Inexperience meant that they might pry a deal loose of Fel’s clockwork fingers, and was the hook that kept them speaking with Merrill despite his absence. If there was extra money to be made, they could overlook the absence of the gardener.
“I see, I see. Last quarter and this one as well? I suppose I'll be taking my usual order then, though business is down at the time. With all the raids and such, a particularly tough year… I only hope I can afford it.”
Raids down twenty percent since last year, due to the destabilization of the nomadics with the death of their clan leader. Now, they fight amongst themselves as much as they fight for goods. You’re flush with cash, old man, Merrill thought. Fel had taught her to keep a close finger to the pulse of the news, and she paid four tavern owners at each corner of the city for weekly reports of their news from outside the Tower. Of course, anything they said was to be taken with a grain of salt, but so too was anything from the mouths of the Keepers. Perhaps even more so from the Keepers, but in a different way.
“Our greatest condolences for your hardships,” said Merrill
. “Perhaps I can offer you a discount on an additional purchase of sourbean extract to help accommodate?”
She had misread Fel’s notes on sourbean when planting. For a standard year’s supply, he had instructed her to plant twenty seeds, but Merrill had read it as twenty pods. Each pod contained eight seeds, and she now found herself with a massive surplus. Worse, the sourbean would only last a year at best, before losing its flavor and three quarters of its value. There were few applications for sourbean besides the taste, its sweet and acidic composition used to mask even the bitterest of ingredients in potions and remedies, and once that was faded most would cast it aside. At best, it could still be used in candies, but even then the sweets would seem stale, and the price those would fetch would be dismal.
But the merchant’s face lifted slightly at the suggestion. Though sourbean took up an inordinate amount of space and resources to plant and harvest, something that frustrated Merrill even more with her error, when distilled down a bulk order could fit into three pear-sized jugs. For the merchant, that meant almost no space taken up in his caravan and a nearly guaranteed profit, so long as he could liquidate it in time.
“Your offer is graciously accepted,” he said with a smile. “And for the rest of my order, you remember it?”
Three pounds of the crushed leaves of heavenly falls, four bushels of fresh ember’s core flower, three hundred stalks of sugar fed radiant grass, and several other cheaper minor orders. All for full payment now, or half payment and another half plus ten percent later.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to remind me,“ lied Merrill as she matched his pleasant smile. “Busy time of year, you see, and I don’t have Fel’s memory.”
The merchant began rattling off items, and Merrill took notes, watching for any discrepancies. He finished the list, then looked up, speaking the same price as before.
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