Fault Lines

by D. J. McCune

  At Nathanial’s nod they stepped into the Hinterland. ‘Remember the castle,’ he began. ‘The forest comes all the way up to the end of the lawn. Beyond are the grey walls and the charcoal spires of the towers.’ His voice became softer as he gave more detail but this time Adam didn’t need it. Heinrich’s home was the kind of place that stuck in your memory. It was magical.

  He felt the ‘hook’ of recognition, feeling the Mortson Keystone calling to him across the land and sea in between. Distance meant nothing in the Hinterland because the Hinterland was everywhere and nowhere. He closed his eyes and swooped.

  Adam opened his eyes and there was the castle. He was the first of his family to get there – and that was a first in itself. A few seconds later Nathanial appeared beside him, relief washing across his face. When his youngest son had vanished he had probably half expected Adam to end up in Timbuktu. ‘You’re getting very good at this, just as we knew you would.’

  Adam forced a smile. It was true. He was getting the hang of all things Luman. It was just a shame he wasn’t happy about that, the way he would have been before.

  The rest of the Mortsons arrived within moments. They paused for a second in the Hinterland, checking for loose hems and stray hairs, then stepped as one into the physical world.

  Luc spoke for all of them. ‘This place is amazing but it’s bloody freezing!’

  As they scurried towards the huge wooden doors of the castle music and voices drifted through the air towards them. Inside they were greeted by a smiling German Luman who led them towards a long, window-lined room overlooking the forest. The castle was surrounded on all sides by dark evergreens, probably an attempt to keep over-eager tourists at bay. Adam knew that Heinrich’s family rarely opened the gates at the end of the winding driveway, preferring to stay at home and swoop in and out when necessary to avoid attracting attention.

  Adam followed his parents towards long tables laid out with wine glasses and coffee cups. The Mortsons were early but certainly not the first ones here. Marking balls were important occasions in the Luman world, a chance to exchange news, show status and arrange betrothals. To be at the Marking of a Chief Curator’s son was to be surrounded by the most powerful Luman families in the world. It wasn’t an opportunity to be wasted.

  As they approached the table Adam saw two surprising groups of people. First was Heinrich’s extended family, who were huddled together, talking in low, angry voices. Beside them stood an even more surprising group: the Concilium. Adam stopped, disconcerted to see Darian glaring at them. It wasn’t just Darian looking furious; the rest of the Curators had expressions that would have curdled milk.

  Luc sighed. ‘Great. They must be running late. Which means we’re stuck here even longer.’ A red-headed Luman girl walked past, wearing a sparkling black dress. She glanced at him and smiled. Luc gave her the benefit of one of his thousand-watt smiles and muttered, ‘Maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.’

  Nathanial greeted the Curators, exchanging handshakes and embraces. ‘How wonderful to see you all. Has the Marking been delayed?’

  Adam couldn’t help but notice the black glances being exchanged between the Curators. It was Rashid, one of the younger, nicer Curators who answered. ‘Our Chief Curator made the decision that only he would be present at the Marking.’

  ‘I see.’ Nathanial seemed bemused. ‘And none of the family?’

  ‘Only Alberta and the children.’

  Nathanial frowned and nodded. ‘I’m sure he has his reasons.’ He exchanged small talk while his family helped themselves to drinks.

  Adam didn’t hear what else he said; his attention had been caught by Auntie Jo, who was putting on an elaborate performance for Darian. The Frenchman was studying his drink as if it were the elixir of life while she smiled, waved and generally attempted to catch his attention. At last he turned his back and talked intently to the Curator beside him.

  Nathanial excused himself and the Mortsons retreated from the drinks table. Auntie Jo gave one last beaming smile to her beau but as soon as she turned away she became businesslike. ‘What on earth is going on?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Nathanial was frowning slightly. ‘It seems that only Heinrich, Alberta and the children are in the Oath Chamber. No one else was permitted to be present.’

  Elise was frowning too. ‘But such a breach of protocol … What was he thinking?’

  ‘Well, by law the only people who have to be present are the Chief Curator, the new Luman and his father. And the Crone of course. It just so happens that in Alexander’s case his father and the Chief Curator are the same person.’

  Auntie Jo shrugged. ‘Well, as you said, Heinrich must have his reasons.’

  Nathanial cleared his throat. ‘Yes. I’m sure he has.’ If he had his suspicions what those reasons might be they didn’t seem to be bringing him any reassurance.

  There was a flurry of noise at the entrance. They turned and saw nine McVeys walking towards them, led by Uncle Paddy. The room was filling up and it seemed natural to join them. The Curators stood stiffly along one wall, just as Heinrich’s family did, no doubt aware that the same conversation was repeating over and over again. Why weren’t they inside, watching the Marking? Why had Heinrich decided to exclude them?

  Adam was distracted from the scandal by a more pressing issue, namely Caitlyn. He hadn’t seen her since the day in the garden. He could still see her running away from him, the grass weaving around her bare feet and legs and the challenge in her eyes when she had stood pressed against the hedge, daring him to kiss her; the faint lemonade smell of her skin. From the way her eyes darted around, not meeting his, he knew she remembered it too.

  He could have kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her but he hadn’t because of Melissa. And now Melissa wasn’t here – would never be here, ever, in a million years and he was stupid, stupid, stupid for not kissing Caitlyn when he had the chance. Because, like Luc had said, if Caitlyn was interested he was a lucky guy and he was never going to get luckier. She was smart and funny and gorgeous – although if he was honest she was a bit scary too. There was something sharp and quicksilver about her; something, Adam realised, that reminded him of Luc.

  Luc was ready for her. ‘Hey, cous. You look nice. That’s a great dress. Did you leave your tights at home today?’

  Caitlyn glared at him, then walked over to Chloe to say hello, somehow managing to ram one very spiky black heel onto Luc’s foot as she passed. Luc gave an agonised whimper and she smirked without saying a word. She ignored Adam completely.

  Great. If it hadn’t already been the worst day ever, it was now. Melissa and Caitlyn both hated him. Adam stood still, holding a cup of weird-tasting tea as it grew colder and the room grew hotter, filling up with chattering, excited Lumen from every country and Kingdom. His stomach grumbled and he regretted his tiny breakfast. His feet were sore from standing still and his head began to thump. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time. He wished he could flee outside and swoop home but there was no escape. Etiquette was everything in the Luman world.

  ‘Why so gloomy?’ Auntie Jo interrupted his misery.

  He shrugged. ‘It just takes forever.’

  ‘I’m sure it feels a lot longer to the person getting Marked.’

  Adam winced but he was feeling too sorry for himself to spare any sympathy for Alexander. ‘It’s so boring, just standing around waiting.’

  Auntie Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, you’re not really supposed to be standing around, are you? You’re supposed to be mingling and talking to people and laughing at their jokes and checking out the girls. You’re supposed to be looking for a wife.’ At Adam’s horror-stricken look she shrugged. ‘You seemed quite interested after Aron’s Marking ball. I thought you had someone in mind. So did your father.’

  Adam groaned inwardly. It had been a useful cover story back when he had needed to find out more about Darian’s hatred of Nathanial and obsession with Elise. Auntie Jo had assumed that he was worried
the past scandal would tarnish his chances and it had suited Adam to go along with it. He hadn’t realised that it would come back to bite him – and that his family were waiting for him to make a move on someone. ‘I’m not really in the mood.’

  Auntie Jo frowned. ‘Well, don’t wait too long. Get in the mood. Because if I can tell you one thing about the Luman world it’s this: being well-married will not only make you happy, it will make you trustworthy in the eyes of others. And if you hope to follow in your father’s footsteps, trust is the most important quality of all.’

  Adam stared at her mutely. How could you be trustworthy when your whole life was a lie? His life at home was a lie because he had hidden Melissa and hidden his plans to stay at school and never be a Luman. And at school his whole life was a lie because he couldn’t tell his friends or Melissa anything about himself, or none of the stuff that mattered.

  He glanced sideways and caught Caitlyn watching him. She looked away immediately, colour tinting her cheeks. Adam stared at her for a moment. What would it be like, being betrothed to someone like Caitlyn? Being able to spend time with her and have everyone approve of it? Being able to go on jobs and come home and talk about them, not cover them up. Being with someone who knew the Luman world inside out, with all its demands. Living in the Luman world with an ally; someone who was on your side.

  She felt him looking and turned towards him, meeting his eyes with her own. For a long moment they just stared at one another and then Adam felt himself smile. Caitlyn smiled back. Auntie Jo spoke and he muttered something in reply but there was a warm space in his chest where a moment before there had just been misery and loneliness. Auntie Jo was right – and so was Luc. If he had to get betrothed, he could do a lot worse than spend his life with Caitlyn.

  A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd and a second later a trumpet blew. Adam turned to the far wall, where a flight of steps led up from the room they were in to a plain, wooden doorway. Heinrich was standing on the steps, quite alone, looking down at the crowd below, who were staring up expectantly, waiting for Alexander to appear.

  Adam remembered this bit from Aron’s Marking. Alexander would appear, his chest a raw mess of fresh tattoo, and be presented as a Marked Luman. The crowd would go nuts. There would be toasts and gifts and general back-slapping and then they would all go and eat enough to feed a small country.

  But Heinrich was still standing there and something about his posture was spreading unease through the crowd. The murmur of noise died away, leaving silence. Adam studied the Chief Curator’s face and there was some expression he couldn’t place, something between joy and terror, like a man on a high diving board poised to jump. Everyone could see it and beside him Elise put her hand to her mouth and whispered, ‘Oh, Heinrich, t’as fait quoi?’ What have you done?

  Then Heinrich smiled at them and offered his hand to someone on the other side of the door and as the figure walked through he called out in a strong voice, ‘I present to you my daughter Susanna, Marked Luman!’

  Chapter 16

  he silence that followed Heinrich’s words was deafening. He stood at the top of the stairs, holding his eldest daughter’s hand. Adam stared at her, tall and fair-skinned with her blonde hair pulled back. Her face was serene and now that she was standing there beside him, so was Heinrich’s.

  The crowd below could never be described as serene. The silence wasn’t calm – it was a deep breath. There was a murmur – quiet, disbelieving – that rippled and rolled, gathering momentum until the wave broke and the room was full of voices, a rising chorus of shock, disgust, outrage – and something else. Something that might have been excitement.

  ‘What has he done?’ Auntie Jo, like Elise, had her hand pressed to her mouth in disbelief – but her eyes were gleaming.

  Elise rounded on Nathanial, which was unusual in itself. ‘Did you know? Did you know he would do this and keep it from me?’ Her words were stumbling, her French accent amplified the way it always was when she was upset.

  ‘Of course not.’ Nathanial’s voice had the flat calm of truth. His face had leached all colour and he was staring up at his old friend with something between anger and pity. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘He is ruined!’ Elise whispered. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

  ‘He’s the Chief Curator,’ Auntie Jo said and to Adam’s surprise she took his mother’s hand and squeezed it. ‘If anyone can pull this off it’s Heinrich. Let’s hear what he has to say.’

  It took a long time before Heinrich could say anything. The noise was like water, rolling and crashing, endlessly circling round the room. Every time there was a lull, a fresh roar would rise up. No one was shouting at Heinrich. Courtesy was sacred in the Luman world, especially in a man’s own house, and Heinrich wasn’t just any man. He was the Chief Curator – and that was the only reason the rest of the Concilium hadn’t seized him and dragged him off to face judgement.

  Heinrich simply stood still and so did Susanna. Adam stared at her admiringly. Her face remained impassive although a blush had spread up her chest and neck, into her face. She was wearing the black and white cloak of a Marked Luman and a modified version of a man’s Marking shirt which exposed her breastbone without revealing her breasts. Maybe because of the closer fit the V in her shirt was stained with blood and ink but her tattoo was visible, black and gory over her heart.

  At last the talking died away and Heinrich held up his hand. The silence became expectant. Heinrich cleared his throat. ‘I feel, my friends, that I must apologise. Not for the Marking of my daughter but for the necessary secrecy around this endeavour.

  ‘For many long years I have served humanity and my fellow Lumen as best I can. I am not the oldest of our kind. I am not the most learned or the fastest. My family is honourable, as are your own, but we are not the most ancient family. I have nothing to distinguish me beyond the trust that you, my own people, have placed in me. I am forever humbled by your kindness, your dedication and your self-sacrifice. The fact that humanity at large is unaware of what you do every day is testament to the laws that govern our world; the secrecy that protects us from scrutiny.

  ‘But there is one aspect of our world that has troubled my conscience for some time and that is the place of our womenfolk. The world beyond our own has moved on apace; in fortunate countries women can live a life of their own choosing. They may choose betrothal and family life or they may choose the world of work. Many women choose both. And yet here in our own world a girl’s life is chosen for her, by dint of her gender, however unsuited she may be to the life thrust upon her. But it was not always the case.

  ‘In my studies of The Book of the Unknown Roads I have delved far into the past. Why, I asked myself, did our daughters and wives share our abilities to swoop and feel the passing of souls if they cannot use these gifts? Why afflict them with such pointless suffering, to know a human life is ending, without the opportunity to point the way onto the Unknown Roads? And in the course of my research, my suspicions were confirmed. Our ancestors, the first Lumen, made no distinction between male and female. Lumen were judged on merit alone, regardless of their gender. It was only as time passed and the Luman world became more fractured that women began to fulfil a different purpose: peace. Healing division. Bringing factions and families together through betrothals. Their role as Lumen was expunged from our collective memory but the evidence is there in the early writings, should you wish to seek it.’

  He paused and gestured to his daughter. ‘Since childhood, Susanna has shown a unique sensitivity to the passing of souls. Her death sense, to use that crude term, is more acute than my own. She swoops with skill, speed and accuracy. As the time has come for her to think about betrothal I have watched her unhappiness grow. I have watched her railroaded onto a path that she may choose willingly in the future but not yet. And when I saw the happiness and confidence of my sons it occurred to me that what we do to our girls – the removal of their free choice – is wrong.

  ‘A
nd so, I decided to act.’ Heinrich spread his hands, drawing them in; appealing to them. ‘Our world is swift to act when a soul departs the physical world, but we are so very slow to act when we are asked to change. There is a phrase that is sometimes uttered by humanity which struck a chord with me. Be the change you want to see in the world around you. Susanna has chosen to be that change. I hope, in time, that you will forgive my deception and understand why we have acted in this way. Now, as my guests, please eat, drink and celebrate this historic day. Celebrate the Marking and coming of age of this new Luman.’

  There was an awkward silence. Then, somewhere near the back of the room, someone began to clap. A moment later another person joined in. Then another. A woman’s voice called out, shrill and triumphant, only to be shouted over by a deeper, male voice. Beside Adam, Auntie Jo stared straight ahead; then she too began to clap.

  ‘Josephine,’ Elise hissed and gripped her sister-in-law’s arm, only to have it shaken off. Auntie Jo clapped harder.

  There was a whoop behind them. It was Caitlyn. She was clapping. And so, Adam realised with a deepening sense of unreality, was Chloe. Her face was flushed and terrified and exhilarated and she wouldn’t look at either of her parents until Nathanial put a hand on her shoulder and said quietly, ‘Enough.’ She clapped a few times more, then faltered.

  In the room packed with hundreds of people, perhaps sixty or seventy had applauded, only a few of them men. Caitlyn had stopped when Ciaron had grabbed her arms and talked into her ear, low and urgent. The clapping had died away and the air was tense. Too late, Adam realised he should have joined in. His brain had taken too long to process what Heinrich was saying and now he wanted to jump up beside the Chief Curator and shout to them all that he agreed, that Heinrich was right – but the moment was lost.