by Jodi Meadows
Silence fluttered behind me. Then:
::Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.:: The word pattered through the square.
Slowly, Kader turned and a deep scowl etched its way onto his face.
::Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.:: The quiet code went on and on, all five hundred of us tapping in rhythm.
Kader went into his house—demonstrating not only his great wealth, as he could afford to rebuild it quickly, but also his denial of our voice. The silence he wanted from us was oppressive. Angry. Unholy.
::Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.::
Though Kader was gone, we were a single, strong voice, at least until the town guard arrived and tried to make everyone go home.
Someone said no.
Then the riot began.
THE GUARD ARRESTED me the next day, and as I said good-bye to my family, I understood the depth of my mistake.
My anger—my questions—had left them with nothing at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE LUMINARY COUNCIL WAS GONE.
Not all of them, of course. I’d seen Elbena with Tirta, but she was only one of twenty-seven members, and if even half of them had been in the council house today, their deaths would cripple the Daminan government.
The Luminary Council.
The aides.
The guards.
Even the people who had no connection to the government except for the fact that they cleaned the floors, or worked in the mail room, or had business there today.
Innocent people.
All dead.
“Do we know who’s responsible?” Mother asked.
“I’m not at liberty to—”
Long, low tones of a ringing bell cut her off.
“You need to go,” said the guard. “To your shelter or to the cliffs. We’ll hold them off.”
::The cliffs?:: Aaru’s eyebrows drew inward.
If Hristo didn’t understand the quiet code, he did understand the question on Aaru’s face. “The prominence is a prestigious place to live.” He motioned everyone to follow him toward the kitchen. “But it’s not particularly defendable. The houses up here are just houses, not fortresses.”
“They’re palaces, not houses,” Ilina said, and Aaru nodded in vehement agreement.
We moved through the kitchen quickly, all five of us (Zara included), with Mother and Father and Hristo’s father close behind. The back door squealed open and we filed outside one at a time.
Sunlight beamed down on the small path through the back gardens, dazzling where it reflected off the white paving stones and small rocks that divided the lala flowers from the canna lilies from the broad-leafed ferns. This was a constantly evolving space, with different displays of flowers depending on what was in season and the mood of the household, but no matter what was planted here, I’d always loved it. I’d always felt safe.
“Houses or palaces,” Hristo was saying, “it’s not defendable. There are shelters in the basements of every residence, but we don’t want to get trapped. Not if we need to leave.” He waved us down a wide path, which ran along a low wooden fence. On the other side, the edge of the cliff waited. A sheer drop into the water. “There’s a stair on every prominence. We just have to get to it.”
“Hurry,” Mother said. She and my father were catching up, Hristo’s father right behind them.
The bell continued tolling as the eight of us rushed down the path, joined by other families from this prominence. Servants carried baskets and bags for their employers, while children ran ahead. We’d had drills before, with the Luminary Guards guiding people to the stair, but right now it was only us. Civilians.
Still, the training held. Most of us walked as fast as possible, without pushing, without shouting. We moved quickly but quietly, with only minimal conversation buzzing back and forth.
“What’s happening?” someone asked.
“The council house was attacked. Warriors are swarming through the city.”
And another: “Khulan has declared war on us.”
I kept my face down, listening to the wind whistle between slats in the fence, and boots pounding on the paving stones, and the thump of my bag against my hip.
::Do you hear it?:: Aaru’s fingers slid off my shoulder when he finished tapping.
I did hear it then. The clash of metal on metal. The shouts of men and women in battle. The peal of the warning bell . . . and its abrupt stop.
Seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven. I counted steps as the others noticed the sudden silence of the bell, and the crowd moved faster.
We’d always thought ourselves so safe up here, so secure with the guard house at the bottom of the cliffs and all the foliage blocking our homes from the main street. But maybe we were those seagulls from Gerel’s story.
“There you are!” As we reached the gate, which led to the cliff stairs, Doctor Chilikoba found us. Dust and sweat streaked her face as she heaved her medical bag along with her.
Aaru took her bag and looped it across his chest.
“You’re still here? I thought you’d have gone home by now.” I glanced at the doctor, then focused straight ahead again; I didn’t want to get left behind.
“I told you I would come back to see you.” Doctor Chilikoba bumped my elbow. “I was on my way back to your house, but a guard stopped me. Told me to come here instead.”
We stopped walking at the gate, where nearly a hundred people had bottlenecked in order to get through. Though more people arrived every minute, no one shoved or pushed to be first; our drills had taught us to slip through one at a time: one from one group, and then one from another.
Friends couldn’t stay together. Nor could families. Only nursing mothers were permitted to remain with their infants, because the infants would be held on the way down. This was to avoid prioritizing one family over another; it seemed to me, though, that it forced families to prioritize their own members. Most families practiced this part, too—who would go first, and who would wait. And for those who were separated, older children and adults would help the very young and the elderly, because in Damyan and Darina’s eyes, we were all one family.
“Do you know what’s happening?” I asked the doctor as the people ahead of us sorted themselves and we scooted forward little by little.
“I thought it was another earthquake.”
My heart thundered in my ears as we moved closer to the gate. Only fifty people stood ahead of me, my group included. Everyone was already shifting themselves into a line, which left my friends positioned evenly between my neighbors.
“It wasn’t a quake.” I started to explain, but Mother grabbed my shoulder.
“Get in line. You can tell her later.” Mother’s eyes scanned the crowd, then settled on Zara, who’d fallen behind. Hristo’s father had stayed with her, just as protective as his son. “Zara!” Mother called.
Frantically, my sister looked between Mother and the people in front of her; there had to be at least thirty. No one would skip in line, not even Zara, but her fear was obvious. She’d overheard my confrontation with our parents; she knew what was at stake.
There was another unspoken rule about the cliff line: no trading places. It simply caused too much chaos.
But my parents—still next to each other as the doctor and I squeezed into line ahead of them—glanced at each other, and that was it.
I’d never seen that kind of unspoken communication between them before, that silent understanding, but at once, Mother darted forward and hugged me. “I choose you,” she whispered. “Be safe.”
Then, she and Father both went to Zara. They hugged her and nudged her to the place in line they’d just occupied. “Mira will protect you.” I barely heard Mother’s voice under the hum of conversation and the wind that hissed through the gate.
It was done. They’d traded two places for one to make up for the chaos, but even so, people grumbled as Zara sprinted forward. Her hands trembled as she took our parents’ place in line.
The crash of the L
uminary Guard battling warriors intensified, drawing closer. Someone screamed in pain.
Ahead, Ilina vanished through the gate, and Aaru was only two people behind her, his posture stiff with the number of people surrounding him. Four people ahead of me, Hristo glanced back. Our eyes met.
“You should trade places with me,” he said. “Go first.”
I shook my head. He was my protector, and it was his duty to think like that, but we had to obey the rules of the stair line; my family had already risked confusing everything.
We crept closer to the gate. Only twenty people stood ahead of me. Fifteen.
I glanced back at my parents; there were thirty-three people between us, everyone anxiously waiting their turn to descend the stairs.
Our drills had always included the stairs, because they were narrow and frightening for many, and that part especially had to be practiced. There was no point in a drill that didn’t include the actual escape. But still, most people took the stairs slowly, because the drop into the sea was very long indeed.
::Hurry, hurry,:: I tapped to myself. The prominence had never been under attack during our drills, but now the clash of metal struck closer. In the late-morning sun, the off-white uniforms of the Luminary Guard flashed bright, while the leather uniforms of warriors were duller, but still identifiable as different. They didn’t belong.
My heart thudded impossibly hard against my ribs, aching with every beat. Even with the warriors here, their god-given strength muted, they were stronger and faster than our guards.
They would cut through the prominence defenses and kill everyone in this line.
::Hurry, hurry,:: I tapped.
“Just breathe,” Doctor Chilikoba murmured. She stood right behind me, one hand on my shoulder. “Breathe.”
Seven people stood ahead of me, and just before he disappeared, Aaru—still with Doctor Chilikoba’s medical bag slung across his body—turned and caught my eye. There was no smile. No encouragement. No trust that we’d make it through this.
How could there be?
He offered only acknowledgment, and then he was gone through the gate, and the next person shuffled up behind him.
“Look!” Someone pointed toward the street. A Khulani warrior had broken through the trees and was scanning the line. Searching for someone.
Searching for me.
I didn’t know this warrior, but he would know me. For my whole life, I’d been one of the most recognizable people on the Isles, and with the scar, I was unmistakable.
I ducked my face as the line shuffled forward. Five people. Four people.
::Hurry, hurry.:: Turning my face away from the warrior, I glanced back at my sister; tears trickled down her cheeks, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from sobbing out loud.
Beyond her, Mother and Father embraced. Just a moment. Just a sliver of the affection I’d always wondered if they actually held for each other. Then, Mother pulled away.
Two people ahead of me.
Three more warriors appeared through the trees.
It was hard to see, since I was trying to keep my face hidden, but at the edge of my vision, I watched Mother striding away from the line—moving toward them.
The person ahead of me vanished behind the gate.
Though Mother’s posture didn’t change, something about her did. She became magnetic. Everyone turned to look at her, rather than the warriors or the gate. The air around her felt charged as she approached the warriors, who couldn’t take their eyes off her. All four men and women lowered their maces to gaze upon her, as though she were the single most beautiful person they’d ever beheld.
“Go,” whispered the doctor behind me.
I wrenched my gaze from my mother and stepped through the gate. Only a small ledge stood between me and the edge of the world. The prominence north of ours looked so far away.
With one step, I began my descent down the stairs carved into the side of the cliff, with only a low guardrail to prevent people from falling.
One thousand, eight hundred and sixty stairs.
At the bottom, we’d find boats we could take to the harbor. To the safety of more Luminary Guards for some. To the Chance Encounter for me.
Mother’s charm still tugged. It called me, urging me to turn my head and watch her use the gift granted by Damyan and Darina, but I forced myself to focus. On the person ahead of me. On the stairs. On the horizon glittering on the far side of the sea. I needed to take advantage of this crack in the warriors’ attention.
Wind hissed across the ledge, tearing at my clothes and braids.
::Go, go,:: I tapped, tugging my bag toward my stomach; I needed to center my weight.
Twenty landings had been carved into the cliff, allowing the procession to snake back and forth. I couldn’t see the people directly below—the cliffs were slightly concave—but the line ahead of me moved steadily downward. Not rushing. Not pushing.
Ahead of Ilina, a young boy trembled and shook his head at every step, but Ilina touched his shoulder and urged him onward.
I clutched my bag, careful to keep two full steps between myself and the person in front of me. The power of Mother’s charm still pulled, but I ignored it and kept moving.
With every step, I leaned left toward the cliff—away from the gaping nothing at my right. Still, there was this awful sensation that the stone might betray me, might somehow shove me over the rail and send me falling to my death.
Twenty-two steps down. When I glanced over my shoulder, the doctor had one hand on the rock wall, and her other on the rail. Two people behind her, Zara was still crying, but she, too, held fast to the rail.
I wished I could clutch the rail, but if I didn’t press my bag to my stomach, it hung to the right side of my body—the side with the gaping nothing I so desperately wanted to avoid.
One step at a time.
Twenty-five.
Thirty.
Thirty-five.
Only one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five steps to go. Gravity had never seemed so sinister.
Slowly, slowly, we descended. No one spoke. The wind did enough of that for us, whistling, trying to snatch us from the precarious steps. All the drills in the world hadn’t prepared us for actually making this journey.
Shouts sounded above, people screaming and begging for mercy.
As I finally approached the first landing—ninety-three stairs—I scanned the line behind me. Doctor Chilikoba was at my side, and Zara just two people behind her. Mother and Father had been near thirty people behind, but they should be on the stairs already.
Mother had been using her gift to buy everyone time, and Father might have stayed with her, but surely they’d made it through the gate before the screaming started.
On the landing, Aaru glanced back with fear in his eyes, but he gave no indication as to whether he knew what happened to my parents—if he could hear them through all the wind and shouts and thunder in his mind. Then he turned and vanished from my sight, down the next flight of stairs.
It happened as I reached the landing.
Someone fell.
I was just about to make the same turn Aaru had, and Hristo shortly after: moving to the next flight of ninety-three stairs. And someone screamed.
Several someones screamed.
The falling person had come from the gate, maybe pushed from people struggling, or perhaps they’d lost their balance—
A Khulani warrior stepped through the gate.
Traffic down the first flight had mostly stopped at the fall, and everyone was looking back, so as the warrior appeared, there was a ripple as people ducked.
The warrior had a bow. So quickly I could barely track her movements, she raised her bow and loosed an arrow.
Even from so far away, she’d spotted me on the first landing, accounted for wind and gravity, and sent her arrow flying straight at me.
Doctor Chilikoba was fast, too.
She pushed me against the cliff.
The arrow
pierced her throat.
She staggered away from everyone, even in her last moments thinking of others, and tumbled over the guardrail.
Gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
WIND SCREAMED.
I screamed.
Angry black tendrils fluttered on the edge of my sight, and I wished for noorestones nearby to give me strength. Power. Something.
But she was gone. My doctor. My confidant.
She’d taken that arrow meant for me, and even in her dying moments, she’d thrown herself off the cliff to prevent her body from tumbling down the stairs, knocking into people, causing more harm than the warrior could have hoped for.
The new person behind me, a man I didn’t know, guided me around the corner to the second flight of stairs. “You’ll be out of sight,” he said. Or, at least, that was what it sounded like he said.
But there was so much screaming.
As I moved down the next set of stairs, my mind dutifully counting steps, another body dropped: the warrior who’d murdered my doctor.
Up and down the evacuation line, people were screaming. It seemed endless. Hopeless. Because even with the assassin dead, we never received word from above—word that the Luminary Guard had defended us and we could climb back up.
We reached the second landing, and then the third.
Everything tunneled: my vision, my breathing, my numbers. I placed one foot in front of the other, following the line, but my mind was far away.
Down, down we went. The last time I’d taken stairs like this, I’d been following warriors into the Pit. But that descent had been nothing. A mere two hundred and fifty-seven steps. And here, there were more than a thousand to go.
Every so often, the man behind me said something my mind was too exhausted to catch, but his tone was kind. Whatever words he used were lost to the shriek of the wind, the haggard sobbing of my sister, and the fears swarming through my head.
Four landings.
Then five.
My legs ached with the strain of stretching, my toes touching the next step, my muscles compensating to find balance. My stomach clenched from holding myself upright, and my head pounded.