Amid Wind and Stone

by Nicole Luiken

  “But what if the ambassador didn’t know about the gas?” Audrey blurted. Because The Phantom had modified the Device.

  The queen wasn’t listening. “I want extra guards with the prince and consort at all times…”

  Audrey had to stop this. She dashed across the ballroom and watched her father confront the mustached, shorter man. “You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Prince Hans!”

  The Siparese ambassador held his hands up placatingly in front of him. “I had nothing to do with the disaster at the Children’s Ball!”

  “The sedative came from your gift.”

  “The Device makes snowflakes; that is all. Perhaps it malfunctioned? I am not the Clockmaker Earl.”

  “Father!” Audrey called, but he ignored her.

  “You can make your excuses to the queen.” At his gesture, two royal guardsmen seized the short ambassador by the shoulders.

  The ambassador continued to protest his innocence in loud tones as they hauled him away. “This is an outrage! My government is innocent!”

  Angry mutters began to build. Fists were shaken. And then a father shoved his way forward. “Monster! To try to kill children!” He threw a punch. The Siparese ambassador tried to duck, but the guards held him in place, and the blow caught him on the mouth. Blood flew from his split lip.

  The crowd surged. The guards hesitated, not wanting to hurt citizens. The Siparese ambassador was torn from their arms and knocked down onto the floor.

  Audrey’s father swore and yanked her away from the melee.

  Through some freakish shift in the crowd, Audrey glimpsed the Siparese ambassador’s frantic face just before a boot connected with his head and snapped his neck.

  With a choked cry, Audrey hid her head against her father’s shoulder. Sickness churned in her stomach. With the ambassador dead, war was now inevitable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Unskilled

  Stone World

  Jasper stopped so suddenly Leah bumped into him. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Quiet,” he growled.

  Leah tensed, but didn’t hear anything. After an hour of him tunneling through solid rock, she was happy to take a break from the constant stumbling in the dark. Unfortunately, being still just gave her more time to dwell on the absolute darkness and the stuffy air.

  She longed for a candle, but Jasper had said it would burn up all the oxygen—a new word to Leah, which apparently meant the breathable part of the air—in their moving bubble. So, darkness.

  Without Jasper, it would have been unbearable. As it was, she’d been forced to give up all control, put her hands on his back, and blindly follow. Trust.

  After a few minutes, Jasper exhaled noisily. “We have a problem,” he said. “One of my sisters, Rose Granite, has been collared and removed from the Cavern of Gargoyles. The Stone Heart Clan leader, Gerhardt, has commanded her to track me down.”

  “Can she do that?” Leah asked. Anxiety squeezed her chest.

  “Yes. She’ll delay as much as she can, but she’s already tracked me from the Cathedral to my father’s cavern. Rose hasn’t told her master that she can talk to me, nor that the melted puddle of gold is the remains of my collar.” Pause. “She assumed I’d killed Dorotea and buried your—her—body. She wanted to know how I’d done it so she could do the same to her master.”

  Leah winced, but what else could the Stone Hearts expect after decades of enslavement and imprisonment? “Can they catch us?” she asked.

  Jasper fell silent, considering. “Rose Granite has decades more experience than I do. She is trying to delay, but her master knows how fast she can tunnel, so she can’t dawdle too much. We need to pick up the pace if we’re going to stay ahead and reach Above first.”

  The prospect dismayed Leah, but she kept her doubts to herself. “Of course,” she said bravely. “Tell me about Rose Granite,” she said, as they started forward again. A distraction might help. “You called her your sister?”

  “Yes. She tried to teach me mathematics, but she wasn’t patient enough.” Pause. “She enjoys making puns. The other gargoyles just groaned, but I loved them as a boy.”

  “You were lucky to have the other gargoyles.” Gideon had been the only dragon on Fire World. He’d been so alone.

  “Yes.”

  Jasper fell silent, and Leah soon lacked the breath to talk. She focused on keeping one pace behind Jasper, close enough not to lose him, but far enough away not to tangle his legs. It was a difficult balance.

  Something grabbed her heel.

  Leah squeaked and jerked free. For a second, she thought another gargoyle had grabbed her, but it was just the rock re-solidifying behind their bubble. She’d allowed a little too much space to fall between her and Jasper. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

  For the next ten minutes, she did well, walking briskly, but then she stumbled. Her hand lost contact with Jasper. She hesitated, and stone flowed up over her ankles.

  She struggled, but couldn’t break free. “Jasper!” By the time she got the whole word out, the stone had encased her knees.

  Terror detonated through her. She started to scream as the tide of stone engulfed her upper body.

  Then Jasper was there. “Leah!”

  The stone retreated, and she fell forward into his arms, trembling.

  “Leah, I’m so sorry. Here, walk ahead of me.”

  Leah wanted to rest in his arms for longer; they felt so like Gideon’s. “Rose Granite?” she asked hoarsely.

  “She’s getting closer,” he said grimly.

  Fear ruffled the hairs on the back of Leah’s neck. If Rose caught them, Gerhardt would order her to attack Jasper, her brother. Leah started walking, stubbing her toes occasionally when the stone wall didn’t retreat fast enough.

  “I’m slowing you down, aren’t I?” It wasn’t really a question. “Where are we? Is there somewhere we can hide?”

  In response, Jasper opened up a window in the stone. Faint light filtered through. After so long in darkness, even the small light seemed too bright. Leah squinted and gulped in fresher air. “Is that Above?” She longed for daylight and the wind in her face.

  “This is Unskilled Cavern. You must hide here,” Jasper said, feverishly enlarging the opening.

  The words Unskilled Cavern triggered something in Dorotea’s brain. Leah closed her eyes and dipped into the memory. “I think there’s a way to Above through the cavern. Apparently, it’s a tradition for children to be taken on a short trip Above on their tenth name day to see the horrors that humanity escaped.” She breathed out on a sigh. “Dorotea remembers going through the Unskilled cavern on the way to the dead city.” Though the memory was fuzzy and jumbled. “Your mother was probably exiled this way.”

  “Go,” Jasper urged, pushing her through the gap into the cavern. “I will lay a false trail for Rose and try to join you Above. Stamp your foot three times occasionally, so I can find you.”

  “Wait! Why don’t you change into boy form, and we can run through the cavern together?” she suggested. “Rose will lose our trail.”

  Jasper stared at her, his face shadowed in the dim light. “I’m a gargoyle. I don’t have a boy form.”

  It was Leah’s turn to be taken aback. “But you’re Gideon’s otherself.”

  He stared at her, uncomprehending.

  She started again from the beginning. “Gargoyles are the children of a human and a Cave Lord, correct?”

  “That is my parentage, but most gargoyles are the children of two adult gargoyles,” Jasper said carefully.

  “Then perhaps you have the ability, but they don’t,” Leah theorized. “And because you were so young, no one taught you how to change.” It made sense to her, but Jasper frowned heavily.

  “What makes you think I have this ability? I’ve always been a gargoyle.” He sounded offended.

  For Ryan, being immersed in seawater had made it easier for him to shift forms and become a merman. With Gideon, it was sunli
ght and shade. In sunlight, his body wanted to be a dragon, and he struggled to stay a boy. “If you’ve never changed form, perhaps it’s because you haven’t encountered the trigger yet.”

  Jasper shrugged. From the stubborn jut of his jaw, Leah suspected he didn’t believe her. “Perhaps, but I cannot change. If I enter the cavern as I am, people will raise the alarm and attack us.”

  “Maybe—”

  “Enough, Leah. We’re out of time.”

  He was right. “I will meet you Above. Be careful.” On impulse, she kissed his cheek. The stone felt smooth and cool beneath her lips.

  His jaw loosened in astonishment, and she blushed. Maybe she oughtn’t have done that…

  Jasper stepped back. The wall closed up again, and she was alone in an unoccupied corner of Unskilled Cavern.

  Only it turned out to be less of a cavern and more of a warren. The maze of little caves and nooks, which were further subdivided by curtains or hanging strings of braided grass, bewildered Leah. The close quarters and pallets stuffed with straw weren’t too different from castle life, but the low roof appalled her. She had to walk hunched over to keep from hitting her head. And that was in the passageways. In the sleeping alcoves, the roof sloped down so much that it would be impossible for anyone to even sit up.

  Traveling in Jasper’s bubble was claustrophobic, but at least it was temporary. These people lived here. Leah shuddered.

  Nothing of what she saw matched Dorotea’s memory of the route to the dead city.

  (look in a mirror)

  She wondered if it might be worthwhile to try to contact her otherself. She was painfully out of her depth here. Unfortunately, she needed an obsidian mirror to contact Fire. The rule was: whoever initiated contact had to use the mirror that represented that Mirror World—obsidian for Fire, gold for Stone, ice or water for Water, and glass for air. The person being sought could answer from any reflective surface.

  (look in the mirror)

  Aha. The reason she was thinking about this now was because she was being sought. The first attempt at contact had been so faint, she’d mistaken it for her own thought.

  She began actively looking for reflective surfaces and eventually found an unemptied washbasin. “Dorotea?” she asked of her reflection in the gray water, but a connection failed to form.

  A twinge of unease vibrated through her. She’d been assuming Dorotea was in possession of her body, but what if Dorotea had become lost somewhere in limbo? Leah’s belly twisted. She did not want to spend the rest of her life imprisoned on Stone. She preferred Fire, even the shattered, smoking ruin of her home, to these endless caves.

  And then the reflection rippled, another face forming.

  Alarm flared inside Leah as she realized she’d put herself in jeopardy, that Dorotea might seize back control of her body. Leah wrenched her gaze away.

  She’d taken two steps back when her mind registered that the face she’d seen hadn’t been Dorotea’s.

  Cautiously, she edged back down to the water. “Holly?”

  (yes. I’ve been Calling for ages.) Her otherself rolled her eyes. (Leah, what are you doing? you promised me you wouldn’t take over our otherselves’ bodies, yet here you are. I talked to Dorotea. she’s trapped on Fire and frantic. you have to give her body back.)

  Leah’s chin lifted. “Not yet. Not until Gid—Jasper is safe Above.”

  Holly tore her hair. (arrgh. you’re doing it again. you called him Gideon.)

  Leah blushed and looked down at her feet. “I know, I know.”

  (then you’ll switch bodies with Dorotea? you’d be doing the right thing, Leah. I know it’s hard, that you’re still grieving, but you’re only making things worse for yourself.)

  Leah didn’t want to hear another lecture. She cut Holly off. “I can’t let Dorotea return to Stone World yet. Did she tell you what she did?”

  (uh, not really. I assumed she didn’t listen to your warning.)

  Anger flared behind her breastbone—did Holly think she was so arrogant as to make that mistake again? “No, I swore I would only intervene if Gideon’s otherself was in danger. She was hurting him—Jasper. She had a magic slave collar around his neck, and she was torturing him.”

  Silence. Holly bared her teeth. (tell me.)

  When Leah finished relating what had happened, Holly licked her lips. (okay, that’s not good. and I may have made things worse. I told her to view your memories so she’d understand who Gideon is to you. it took me hours to reach you. by now she’ll know how to Call. be careful, she may ambush you.)

  Leah nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

  Holly bit her lip. (but, Leah, you will have to give Dorotea her body back eventually, so don’t get too attached, okay?)

  “I’ll try,” Leah said with a sense of doom. Jasper was, after all, Gideon’s otherself and innately wonderful.

  (don’t try, do,) Holly said sternly. (I’ll speak to Dorotea. check in with me later, okay?)

  “I will.” Leah lifted a hand in brief farewell, then averted her gaze, breaking the connection. Ashes. As if she hadn’t had enough to worry about!

  Leah took a deep breath. Worry about Dorotea later; for now, find a way through the cavern to Above before Rose Granite closes in.

  After five more wrong turns, Leah happened upon a wider passage leading to a communal area with a higher roof. She unbent her spine, thankfully.

  Ten iron stoves heated the air, their smoke funneled up into a metal vent. The stoves looked more like what Leah would have expected on Holly’s world than this one. A dozen women, all either elderly or grossly pregnant, tended large pots of porridge.

  Leah didn’t like porridge, but her stomach rumbled at the sight. This body hadn’t eaten for a while. She considered asking for a bowl, but it seemed wrong to take food from the mouths of those who obviously had so little.

  Off to the left, some children played a noisy game of hide and seek, while another group listened to a story told by a white-haired woman missing her arm from the elbow down.

  All conversation stopped when Leah stepped into view.

  Painfully conscious of the brightness of Dorotea’s turquoise Artisan Clan robes, Leah kept walking. She held her head high as if she had every right to be there. From what she could piece together without delving too deeply into Dorotea’s memories and risking becoming lost there, the Unskilled were serfs. Certainly, their clothing was of inferior quality: both a looser weave and undyed homespun. Not to mention their ugly U tattoos.

  Maybe she could trade her robes for plainer ones and some porridge? But no, she didn’t have time.

  Most of the women cast their gazes meekly down and shushed their children, but the one-armed storyteller intercepted Leah. “Did you get lost, Artisan?”

  Leah ignored the question. “Can someone point me the way to Above?” She didn’t want to mention the dead city yet.

  “Above?” The storyteller relaxed. “Ah. You’ll be wanting to join the others, then.”

  Others? What others? But the woman seemed more willing to help now. If Leah protested, that might change. And Gerhardt couldn’t have gotten ahead of her, so it probably didn’t matter.

  A young boy of about eight stood up, a scamp with shaggy blond hair and bright blue eyes. “Do you want me to take her up, Gran? I can do it,” he volunteered.

  “You may, but no playing in the fields. As soon as you’re done, you come back down here,” the storyteller said sternly.

  “I will!” The boy danced forward and grabbed Leah’s hand. “This way.” One of the expectant mothers inhaled sharply, as if expecting Leah to slap him for his familiarity.

  Leah curled her hand into his grubby one. She stamped her foot three times so Jasper would know her whereabouts, then let the boy pull her into a trot.

  The boy led her up a wide, steep ramp into a much bigger cavern. A weight lifted from her shoulders, and she felt like she could breathe again.

  Fields stretched in front of her, although they were still cl
early below ground. Rock walls surrounded them, but lighter patches punctuated the ceiling at regular intervals.

  Different sections contained not just different crops—wheat, oats, cotton—but different stages of crops. One part had barely sprouting plants, another had knee-high shoots, another waist-high, and the last looked a week away from being ripe enough to harvest. Leah supposed that, underground, the fields were shielded from any seasonal weather.

  The boy carefully skirted the edges of the first field. Leah followed. As much as she needed to hurry, she didn’t want to damage the tender new plants.

  The higher the crops, the more workers tending them. Women and men weeded or carried buckets of water from an irrigation ditch that bisected the cavern. Their bodies were corded with muscle, as befitted laborers, but it seemed to be a lean, stringy kind of muscle. Their clothing hung loose, and many of the men had red, sunburnt skin.

  They all stared at her. If she turned her head toward them, they would look away, but she could feel the unfriendly pressure of their gazes digging into her back.

  Sweat broke out under her arms. She became suddenly aware of how much a stranger she was here, of how much she didn’t know about this world.

  The Unskilled hated Dorotea because she was an Artisan.

  She wished she could have stayed with Jasper. Feeling nervous, she paused and stamped her foot three times again.

  The boy skipped ahead of her, showing no inclination to return to his mother or grandmother. He turned and walked backwards. “I’m going to be a Pollinator next year. What do Artisans do?”

  “My mother’s a weaver,” Leah said, which was true. Her mother, Beulah, was a weaver. Or had been. Leah didn’t know if she was alive or dead. Grief ripped through her. Leah forced the painful memory of her mother’s last words to her aside and concentrated on Dorotea’s mother—she made jewelry and sold it at the Elect market.

  “Oh,” the boy said. “That doesn’t sound useless. I thought Skilled people scratched their arses all day and ate strawberries every night.”

  Leah coughed to cover a laugh. The coarse language sounded peculiar coming out of a little boy’s mouth. “Er, no. We don’t sit around all day. Artisans make things. Some of them are ornamental, but others are useful, like tools and dishes and furniture.” She skimmed Dorotea’s memories. Her otherself was just as lacking in artistic talent as Leah and Holly. Not that Dorotea sat all day either. “I take a turn at the treadmill every second day, and I also weed and water the vegetables, just like your folk do, I imagine.”