Currently

by Sarah Mensinga

  Three steps is all it takes, three steps of still being in reach of Jeck’s long arms, three steps where I expect hands to grab me, yank me back, and Douglen to drown me in so much wavurl I can never break free.

  But those hands don’t find me, and if siren commands come my way, I can’t hear them as I lunge into the moving motorliner.

  My dress is an afterthought as I dive through an open side door and onto a bench. My leap isn’t graceful either, and I crash into a woman. But the linercart catches me and sweeps me along, faster and faster. I recover quickly enough to twist around and watch an enraged Jeck race down the platform with a shouting Douglen close behind. Then they’re gone, and moments later, the huge stationhub disappears too. I’m surrounded by cliffs, stars, and wind that tears my hair out of its fancy uppy knot and flutters my dress into another traveler's face.

  The woman I dove into mutters something along the lines of “can’t stand these revelers” and “too much to drink!” And as she grumbles, I cling to the bench, feeling a strange mix of relief and fear. If Douglen and Jeck want me dead, I can’t return to the Trident. What will happen to Sande now? What will happen to me?

  Boom.

  Orange-white skyfire spins up into the darkness.

  And sizzle-crackle.

  It brightens and burns the sky.

  I’m two stationhubs away before I decide what to do, and what I decide to do feels so reckless it would probably shock Sande.

  “How do I go back?” I shout over the rushing wind to the woman I dove into.

  “Back?” She looks at me like I’ve spoken to her in a different language.

  “Yes, back,” I ask, my heart thumping with both fear and determination. “Back to the stationhub I came from.”

  The woman’s frown lines remind me of Parsita from the tea shop—she looks as if she were born disapproving of something. “It’s simple enough,” she says. “Just get off this liner at the next stationhub, then cross the tracks, and ride the motorliner going in the opposite direction.”

  “Do I need to pay for the trip again?” I ask, worried because I don’t have any paper shells.

  She shakes her head. “Not as long as you stay in the building.”

  That seems simple, but when I climb off the motorliner at the next stationhub, I see that there are four different tracks here. At least this building is much smaller and less crowded than the one I just escaped, and at least I’m not being wavurled silent. I ask a man how to find the festival music, and he points to a sign with a blue flower on it.

  “Ah, you must mean the Sonorous Arena,” he says. “All you have to do is wait over there and take that motorliner when it comes in.”

  I hesitate, eyeing his long, dark coat—a coat that could easily cover my bright red gown. “If I gave you my hair combs, could I have your coat?” I ask, and I’m glad that the combs stayed put when the wind pulled my hair loose. I also suspect that they are worth far more than his coat. They gleam with red jewels, and they have a delicate, feathery shape.

  But the man gives me a suspicious look as if wondering why I’d offer something so valuable. “I don’t think so, sorry.”

  “Dearie, I’ll trade my jacket for those pretty combs,” a nearby woman says. Her jacket is shorter and has well-worn hems, but perhaps a shabby jacket is exactly what I need. I don’t want to draw attention to myself. So I pull the combs out of my hair and hand them to the elderly woman, and as I do, I think about the person I need to find—the person I hope will help me—Melily.

  Pulling on my new, threadbare coat, I twist my red dress up and under it as much as possible, making a few knots. Then I drape my long, dark hair forward to hide my face, and I hope I look different enough to fool Douglen and Jeck when I return to the other stationhub. Maybe they won’t even be there anymore. Time has passed, and it’s probably more likely they’ll appear here.

  Thank the Water Goddess, a motorliner soon rolls in beneath the blue flower sign, and I clamor onto it. As it shudders noisily out of the stationhub moments later, whooshing upward, I realize I’m heading in a different direction than I expected. But of course… I asked how to reach the festival music, which is a level above where I ran from Douglen and Jeck. I didn’t think that through in my frightened, flustered state. Well, this is much better. Not only is it less likely that I’ll stumble into danger at a different stationhub, I also won’t have to sneak into the serveworker house and climb all those stairs.

  As the motorliner speeds up, I feel hopeful. Melily is just as powerful as Cressit is, and I’m not affected by her wavurl. I hope I can convince her to help me, or rather, I hope I can convince her that we should help each other. And if my plan fails, I can always find Cressit’s ship. As much as I don’t want his help, he did offer it.

  When I reach the huge, basin-like gathering place that I now know Gatreijans call the Sonorous Arena, I see lots of twinkling electric lights hanging in garlands off the balconies. I suppose the lights were there before, but I didn’t notice them because they weren’t turned on. The arena also still rings with music as a man with a deep, growling voice belts out a song that sounds angry. I wonder if it’s about revenge.

  And then there she is, Melily, all alone and leaning against a railing in her glittery festival dress. I’m glad Shara isn’t with her because even though Shara can be understanding, it’s Melily I need—Melily and her wavurl.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long,” I call as I cross the balcony. There aren’t as many people around as there were before. The Laeros Light Festival must nearly be over.

  “Nerene! You should be sorry!” Melily doesn’t seem to notice that my hair hangs down or that I’m wearing an unfamiliar coat. “You’ve been gone for, like, three hours. Shara and I looked everywhere for you. My feet hurt.”

  I glance around, not wanting to stay where we are for very long. “Is Shara here?”

  “No, she went to the ship to look for you.” Melily finally seems to notice my tattered jacket and gives it a confused look as if she can’t quite remember what I was wearing before. “She wanted me to wait here in case you came back. And I hope you’re grateful because I can’t stand this boring music.”

  I feel tense, already doubting my plan. Melily can be so selfish; she might refuse to help me. But I don’t have any other good options, so I take a deep breath and start talking. “Douglen and Jeck just tried to kill me.”

  I expect Melily to say I’m lying, but to my surprise, she just stares at me.

  And so I continue, painfully aware that Douglen and Jeck could find us at any moment. “I left earlier because Cressit promised to help me relaycall Sande. But then I ran into Douglen and Jeck, and they were really angry that I wasn’t with you.” I emphasize certain words to make sure Melily is following my story. She’s giving me such an empty look it’s as if she’s in a trance. “So they decided to kill me,” I continue, and the next bit is harder to say, “and maybe do shameful things to me too.”

  Melily flinches, but otherwise, it’s like her face is a door she’s slammed shut.

  “There’s more,” I say, wishing I could take her hand and pull her away from our vulnerable spot on Sir Finscini’s chilly, dark balcony. “Cressit’s also a siren, and he’s been looking for you—for many tides. He says Lord Osperacy kidnapped you when you were a baby.” Nothing. Still no reaction from her. “And Cressit used his wavurl to make me lie with him—that’s what happened when we were separated in Beth. He’s apologized, but it’s complicated, and—”

  “Wait—Cressit’s a siren?” Melily says, and finally I’m getting some sort of response from her, although I’m not sure what it is. Her mouth shifts, her eyes focus on me, and then a stricken expression spreads across her features. I almost expect her to use wavurl to call people over to restrain me, and if that happens, could I escape? But instead she says, “I think Douglen and Jeck killed Elgin.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “I think Douglen and Jeck killed my old balance, Elgin,”
Melily says. “I mean, I never had proof, but the way Elgin vanished was strange.”

  I take her hand. “I want to talk more. You have more to tell me, I’m sure. And I need to tell you everything I just told you with more detail, but—we can’t stay here.”

  Melily nods and, thankfully, lets me lead her away from the balcony. We walk behind several ornate houses and up a sloping road crowded with still more elegant homes. I’m not sure where we’re going or where we should go, but I hold onto her hand tightly, and she squeezes mine in return.

  After a while, Melily starts talking again. “I think something was happening between Father and Elgin. Like… something romantic. I didn’t really understand. But Father kept giving Elgin presents, and when we’d have long city stays, he’d take him on special trips—like just the two of them. And they’d be gone for a couple of days.”

  I feel an uncertain prickle at her story. I’ve heard rumors about romances between two men or two women. They were often connected to stories about the Threegod priests banishing people from Varasay—which always seemed so cruel to me. And yet there would have been a large age difference between Elgin and Lord Osperacy. “Did Elgin want to go on those trips?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Melily folds her arms, shivering. “He never talked about it, but I do know that Elgin liked boys not girls. Anyway, Douglen thought Father was telling Elgin important things, and he was jealous. They were arguing a lot—like, Father and Douglen. Then one day in Lellev, Elgin just disappeared. Douglen gave me this note from him saying he was sick of being my balance, but it just didn’t make any sense. Elgin and I were best friends.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath.

  It’s very quiet where we are now. There are only a few lights on in the nearby windows, and even though I see dark, ladder-like tracks curving overhead, no motorliners have rumbled by in a while. We’re far from the Sonorous Arena now, but I still feel like Douglen might step out of any shadow. And when I hear the occasional putter of a distant triwheel, I think about how he and Jeck might use those vehicles to search for us.

  “I’m tired. Let’s find somewhere to sleep,” I suggest, wondering if there are any sleeperhouses nearby.

  “All right.” Melily immediately walks toward the nearest house. As she holds up a fist to knock, I feel like I should stop her. It’s wrong—and rude—to wavurl our way into someone’s home. But perhaps for tonight, staying in a privately owned building is wiser than finding public lodging where Douglen and Jeck might look for us.

  So Melily wavurls us inside a tall, green house, past a finely dressed family who think they’ve suddenly and inexplicably decided to welcome festival guests for the night.

  “Do you need to keep them in your control until morning?” I ask once we’re alone in a little bedchamber with a high ceiling. “I can slip free of Douglen’s hold if I’m far enough away from him.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Melily shrugs. “I only have to hang on tight to my commands when I’m making people do things they really don’t want to do. Those people down there will just be confused and wonder why they made a stupid decision. And they'll also be too polite to tell us they changed their minds. That’s usually how it goes.”

  Now that we’re alone, I peel off the worn jacket I used to cover my red dress. It’s also a good time to better explain everything I told Melily in a panicked rush before.

  It’s hard to know where to start, but I settle on telling her more about the night we met Cressit. I skip the personal, embarrassing details, but otherwise I’m honest.

  “I’m so stupid that I didn’t realize he was a siren.” Melily frowns, her face illuminated by the dim light of electric lanterns hanging on the wall. There is only one bed in the room, but it’s large. We sit cross-legged on the shiny, dark blue coverlet. “I mean of course he’s a siren, and how awful that he used wavurl on you in that way.” Melily makes a face. “I’m sure Douglen’s done things like that too. He’ll always go off with Jeck, and he often won’t tell Shara or Father where they went.”

  I shudder because she’s probably right. “I think it was a misunderstanding with Cressit,” I say. “But even so… if he hadn’t used his wavurl on me, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  Melily nods and wipes away a few tears. “I can’t believe I liked him so much. I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not,” I say. “He tricked me too.” And I feel sick about that night in Beth all over again.

  I also wonder where Cressit thinks I am. Was he worried when he lost me or relieved? I’m a complication he surely doesn’t want.

  I try to tell Melily about my relaycall to Sande and about his missing factory barge, but she doesn’t seem interested. I suppose I’m not surprised—she may have taken a big step today by running away with me, but she’s still Melily. She’s only paying attention when I talk about her or, at the very least, about something scandalous.

  Thankfully though, Melily believes me. She even believes me when I tell her that Lord Osperacy kidnapped her.

  “I used to ask him about my real parents,” she says. “I’d beg to meet them and promise not to use wavurl on them, but Father always said it was best to keep our distance. Does Cressit know who they are?”

  I shake my head. “He didn’t say. But he did say most sirens live in one place—so I’m guessing wavurl is something you inherit. He also said his favorite city is Ellevah and that he hadn’t been there in a while… so I think that might be where you’re from.”

  “Ooo, maybe!” Melily leans forward. “You know, Father—Lord Osperacy, I mean—he never wants to go to Ellevah, like ever. He says it’s too tiny and not worth our time, but maybe he’s avoiding it for other reasons.” Her eyes sparkle.

  My half-formed plan is now propped up by the fragile hope that Melily just might agree to it. “Ellevah is also where Sande wanted us to live. If he survives, there’s a good chance he’ll go there.”

  Melily bounces on her folded knees. “Threegods, this is so exciting. If we travel to Ellevah—”

  “—we might find Sande and your family,” I finish.

  “But Father and Douglen will come after us, and they are both going to be really mad.” Melily’s shoulders droop. “We also won’t have the Trident or money or clothes or servegirls…”

  “That’s true,” I say, trying to be patient. Melily’s probably never lived without luxuries, at least not that she can remember.

  But she gives me a firm, somewhat-resigned, somewhat-excited look and says, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s do it. Let’s go to Ellevah. But I’ll have to use wavurl to get us there, so you can’t get fussy when I do things my way. Promise?” She thrusts out her hand.

  I frown because I don’t generally like “Melily’s way.” But I also don’t want to be stranded in Gatreijan, so I take her hand and shake it.

  “I promise.”

  In the morning, Melily “borrows” clothes from our hosts—which I hate to do—but it’s not as if we can keep wearing our bright festival gowns. So with our shiny dresses bundled in my coat, and we ride the motorliners to a different city level, a lower and poorer one.

  “All this dust is choking me,” Melily complains as we leave a run-down stationhub. But she knows as well as I do that we can’t stay near the Sonorous Arena. We must hide in a part of the city where the Osperacys are unlikely to search for us.

  “And I don’t think we should travel right away, either,” I tell Melily. “Douglen and Jeck might be watching the harbor. And when we do leave, let’s travel on a small boat. They won’t expect that.”

  Melily grumbles about my suggestion, and she doesn’t seem to stop grumbling for the rest of the day. When I suggest we trade our festival gowns for simpler clothes, she moans, “Do we have to do that down here? Everyone looks like they’re wearing underoot sacks.” And when we eat at a humble cookery shop; “I almost want to find a bug in this soup because at least dampflys have flavor.” And as we wait on a crowded motorliner platform; “These people smell l
ike they’ve been rolling in onioncones.”

  But the hardest part of the day for me is when we replace our luggage. Melily has a few shell papers, but we agree (me reluctantly and she eagerly) that she should save them. Therefore, we have to do what Lord Osperacy would call acquiring—and I call stealing.

  “All right, so the best way to do this,” Melily tells me, “is for me to distract shopkeeps with my wavurl, and then you grab what we need.”

  I frown, which makes her laugh.

  “Unless you want to wear the same underclothes all the way to Ellevah,” she says, “you’ll have to get your hands dirty.”

  And I know that, but I still hate stealing. For every hat I stuff into my shirt and for every vest, muffler, or knit wildwool sweater I tuck under my jacket, I think about the shopkeep working hard to support their family or the craftsman who spent hours making whatever it is I’m taking. Sometimes people stole herbs from Gren and me at the barracks market, and every time it happened, I was furious.

  Melily enjoys herself, though, and she acts like we’re shopping. In the cobbler’s store, she even tries on several boots and then winks at me to let me know which pair fit best.

  I try to explain Cressit’s subtler method of using wavurl to her. “He makes people like him, and then people want to help him.”

  But Melily dismisses my suggestion. “So you don’t mind doing bad things to people as long as they feel good about it? That seems worse.”

  “I think I’m explaining it wrong,” I say, but then I stop talking because am I going to defend how Cressit uses his wavurl? No.

  That night we find a smaller, humbler place to sleep. Melily wavurls an elderly book collector into sharing his spare room.

  “I can barely fit on this bed,” she says, wiggling from side to side as we tuck ourselves into a small cot. “Why don’t you sleep on the floor?”