I tried not to think of Ferda as I lay in the quiet, willing myself to sleep. But one thing she’d said had stuck out in my mind: two for two. I’d seen her twice, but I know I had heard her a third time—in my first vision, the one with the dragon. Had she not had that vision as well?
And if not, then what did that mean?
Before I could consider it for too long, sleep claimed me.
❦
“Hello, Miranda. How are you feeling today?” Ari asked me as we walked to education the next day. I gawked at him, and he clarified, “Your menses?”
Oh. Right. That.
When I told him I felt well, he smiled, but the movement of his lips did not seem to match his eyes. “I’m glad,” he said. “I was a trifle worried. You know…” He hesitated, then added, in a much quieter voice, “There’s a side of Gale that the Watch doesn’t want you to see, but it is there. People care about others, for reasons besides the Brotherhood.”
I stared at him in utter bewilderment. He colored. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve always thought of you as a friend, Miranda. So if there’s something wrong, I hope you would trust me enough to tell me.”
My pulse shuddered. What was he getting at? I thought back to him knocking on the lavatory door, how concerned he’d been after education yesterday. Had he seen my fit? Dear Brothers…
I smiled hollowly, attempting to mask my inner panic. “Of course, Ari. But truly, there’s nothing wrong. I feel fine.”
Ari nodded. He seemed disappointed, but did not press the matter. When we turned onto the education center’s street, he broke away from me, calling cheerfully after a group of our peers.
I watched him as he went. Ari had always been so much more carefree than I ever dared to be. He flitted impetuously among our peers like a spirit on the wind. I always appreciated his open smile, but something about it had always made me a bit nervous. Between the Watch and the monsters of Orbe, it seemed like happiness was something that took more courage than I had. Ari’s openness felt unnatural to me.
It had never occurred to me that maybe my reaction was the abnormal one. The fear that was ever-present in my home—was that something that was unique to my family? My parents’ constant whispered warnings about the Watch suddenly seemed inextricable from the possibility that my father had once been a meiga. Maybe the oppressive anxiety I grew up under was not the norm, even here on Gale.
Maybe the only one that lived in constant fear—desperate to break no edicts, constantly looking for the Watch over her shoulder—was me.
A storm was forming over my head. The clouds were thick and dark, obscuring Orbe from view. The sky looked ominous, with nothing but the roiling steel-gray clouds to offset the black stone of the Citadel of the Brothers towering over the city. For the first time in my life, I wished that I could see the other world.
I wondered what Ferda was doing now.
A short distance away, Ari’s laughter bubbled back toward me. And then, there it was again, the hollow sadness in the pit of my stomach, the longing for a life different than the one I had. Everything had been so much easier before these fits started, before I began to question my life. Before the visions. Before learning I was a meiga. I hadn’t asked for this change.
But the changes weren’t what bothered me most. What I really resented were the people who had lied to me for so long, who had made my life into what it was. Who caused me this life of fear in the first place.
I resented my father.
❦
The education center was still and quiet after the noisy chatter and whistling wind outside. The classroom looked foreign to me. I was seeing everything through new eyes. We all sat in our tidy rows, dutifully pulling our texts from our satchels, as the educator took his place at the pulpit in the front of the room, master of all we were to encounter that day. He would guide our minds to think only what we were instructed to, and none would question.
“Good morning,” he said. “Let us begin today with a recitation of the Litany, book two, chapter seventeen.”
My peers read the words aloud in a monotone drone. I moved my lips along with them, but my mind was preoccupied. Reciting the Litany made the questions of last night fresh and raw. If Ferda was right, the Brothers broke away from Orbe less than thirty years ago. Nio and Bastian must surely still be alive. The current Brotherhood weren’t the descendants of the Brothers, they were the Brothers.
The only thing more incomprehensible to me than these two men fabricating a false history for the entire world was the fact that everyone went along with it. Most of the adults on Gale today would have to have been alive at the time of the revolution. Certainly the educator, with his graying temples, had been. So why did no one talk about it? Why did it seem like no one remembered?
The Watch.
The pieces fell into place with a sudden clarity. That was the true purpose of the Watch, then. Why everyone on Gale was surveyed so closely, why people’s actions were so tightly controlled. Why differences could not be tolerated. The story the Brothers had formulated would be repeated, over and over, until everyone believed it was true. No questions asked.
“Educator, I have a question.”
My stomach lurched at the voice. The heads of all my peers swiveled in unison over to Ari, who stood beside his desk. His head was bent deferentially, but his expression was firm.
The educator quirked an eyebrow, though he did not seem overly concerned. “Yes, Ari?”
“Sir, this passage of the Litany…” Ari ran a finger thoughtfully over the words on the page. “It talks about how all men are equal. That the deities were driven out so they could not control us any longer, so we could all be free. Is that not the case?”
“Indeed it is.”
Ari swallowed. “But there are parts of our society that do not seem equal. Like the Healers, for example. Why do they treat some patients, and terminate others?”
This was about me. It had to be. He’d seen, damn it all, he’d seen. I should have known when he said those things on the way to education. But why, why was he asking the educator about it?
My muscles felt taut with panic, and I struggled to calm myself, to breathe evenly. I could feel my body wanting to move, to relieve the anxiety with a tic or a thrash, and I couldn’t, especially not now.
Miranda? Are you okay?
I gripped the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles turned white. Ferda’s voice. I was certain that I must be falling into a fit now, and my secret would be out; but Ferda must have sensed my panic, because I felt her retreat. She didn’t disappear entirely, but stayed in a corner of my mind, listening, trying to sense what was the matter. I didn’t mind her presence this time. It wasn’t like the first time, when she probed my mind against my will. There was a hesitancy, waiting for my permission, and she did not pry. As before, in the woods, it felt like she was steadying me—an invisible hand to my elbow, or an arm about my shoulders.
Though I felt certain that my emotions must be written all over my face, a blaring klaxon to alert the Watch, the educator did not even glance in my direction. His gaze was riveted on Ari.
“Resources, my boy. This was discussed in an earlier lesson, but perhaps you misunderstood. All people on Gale are given the same amount of resources. Food, shelter, healing care. The Healers have determined which ailments can be treated with any person’s allocated amount. If someone takes more than their portion, it is a drain on the community. It would be taking from someone else. Would you want your resources drained?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, begging Ari to stop talking now, to agree with the educator and sit back down. But he just kept on.
“Sir, I wouldn’t mind giving up some of my share to help someone who really needed it. If someone is ill, that’s not their fault.”
“That is noble of you, Ari, but you have to understand. The Brotherhood is wiser than all of us. Certainly wiser than a child like you, who has not experienced the hardships of life. This is why Brothers Ni
o and Bastian were granted the providence to rule. They could see what you don’t. Their edicts have created the fairest system humanity has ever known. A system of equality.”
Equality, my eye, Ferda snapped in my ear. They just want to monitor everyone’s medical conditions so they can make sure no meige slip through.
My breath hitched in my throat. Of course.
“There’s a difference between ‘same’ and ‘equal,’ Educator,” Ari protested. “If we are to be truly free, the Brotherhood must take that into account!”
The room was absolutely still. Then the educator snapped his text shut.
“Everyone save Ari is dismissed. Ari, please stay behind. I would like to discuss this with you in further detail. I believe that, with further discussion, we can come to an understanding.”
My peers rose without a word, although a few looked over their shoulders at Ari as they went out the door. My knees shook as I passed him, this boy I barely knew but who called me his friend. Who now was defying the Brotherhood and the Watch because of me. I wanted to say something to him, beg him to back down, but I couldn’t find the words.
Ari’s eyes caught mine as I passed. He didn’t look sorry. He looked defiant.
I’d been right about Ari. He was far braver than I.
You’re wrong about that, Ferda whispered. Give yourself a chance.
Then she was gone.
❦
The house was empty when I got home. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. We’d never been sent home from education early before. I paced from one room of our small dwelling to the other, back and forth, the morning’s events playing over and over in my mind.
I stopped only when the chill in my fingers and toes could be ignored no longer. The cooking fire from this morning had burned out, so I knelt in front of the hearth and began to mound fresh kindling inside the fireplace. I knew it was wasteful to start a fire when I was the only one home, considering how little kindling we were allotted each month. But I needed to do something.
You just “drain everyone’s resources,” don’t you? Perhaps you should have just told the Watch to begin with. If you had, Ari would be safe right now.
But even as I thought the words, every fiber of my being violently rejected them. I didn’t want anything to happen to Ari. But I didn’t want to give myself up, either.
I wanted to live.
I sat on the hard floor in front of the slowly growing fire. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I needed to talk to my parents. I’d planned to corner my father about the meige, but they’d already gone when I’d awakened that morning. The thought of the conversation filled me with dread, but I had to be brave this time. I needed answers.
I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
My eyes stung. I squeezed them shut, blocking out the tears.
Then I thought of Ferda.
She’d said that was all I needed to do to call her again, and sure enough, as soon as I thought of her, I could see her in my mind’s eye. But it wasn’t the same as when I’d been asleep. My body did not come with me this time. Now it was as if I was seeing her world through her eyes. When I looked down, my fingers were pale and jewel-covered, and I could hear her voice echo in my own ears when she spoke, like I was the one doing the talking.
She stood in a large, bright room with golden walls and high ceilings. A man I didn’t recognize, clad in vibrant robes like Ferda’s and wearing a narrow silver circlet across his brow, paced a short distance away.
“Papá, you have to understand, I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” Ferda’s voice reverberated in my skull, vibrating off my teeth. The sensation was no different than when I spoke myself, but it felt alien because the voice was not my own. “She’s the one who reached me. She doesn’t know how to control her abilities. She’d never even heard of meige before.”
Ferda’s father halted midstride and leaned against a table that appeared to be made out of glass. Colors winked across its surface, changing constantly. “If that’s the case, then they truly must have purged the populace. Oh, Bastian, how could you do it?”
The name leaped out at me. Ferda must have caught it, too, because she stepped forward tentatively. “Papá, that was one of the names I heard the Galecian man say. He called them the Brothers, Nio and Bastian. The rulers of Gale.”
Her father scoffed. “The Brothers. Yes, in more ways than one. Ferda, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell you. I didn’t want to get you involved with this—and certainly not so young—but I’m afraid there’s no choice, now.”
He turned to the glass table and ran his fingers across it. In an instant, an image appeared, suspended in midair over the surface. I gasped, but Ferda did not react.
The Brothers. Not in a drawing in a text, nor even in a statue outside the education center. As real as life itself.
“This man,” her father said, gesturing to the figure on the right, “is Bastian. My brother.”
Ferda’s knees faltered, and I found myself reaching out with my mind, to steady her as she always did for me.
“You mean… the war with Gale was started by our own family?”
Her father nodded grimly. “I am afraid so, Ferda. My brother and the brother of my dearest friend Prosper, together. Prosper and I were both meige. Nio and Bastian were not. Growing up, I’d always suspected that Bastian resented me for it, but I had no idea of the extent until it was too late.”
As he spoke, the images above the glass table shifted. Different angles of both Nio and Bastian, and then one of four men together: Ferda’s father, the Brothers, and someone I knew all too well.
My father.
Ferda furrowed her brows, the muscle movement echoing strangely across my own forehead. “Who is this man?” she asked, pointing to my father’s image.
“That is Prosper. The old governor of Gale.”
I tumbled backward from Ferda’s mind, my body pulling into itself in a violent fury of convulsions, my vision blurring black.
❦
I don’t know if Ferda’s father’s words caused the fit. Maybe it was just the built-up strain of the day. Maybe this was how my body was choosing to cope with stress. Maybe I’d used my meiga abilities too much today, and it was more than my body could handle.
Or maybe there was no reason. Maybe it was pointless to speculate, when this was just the way things were.
I lay there on the cold, hard floor, collapsed in front of the dying fire, feeling overwhelmed and unmovable long after my muscles finished spasming and my head stopped spinning.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. After everything that had happened over the last week—everything I’d seen and learned—this really was the most sensible answer. It all came together, now: my parents’ fear, the way they hid from the Watch, the desperation with which they guarded my ailments from discovery. And especially my father’s reluctance to get in touch with any of his “former colleagues,” as my mother had put it.
The Brothers weren’t just mythical figures. They weren’t the heroes of Gale. They were just two bitter men with a thirst for power and a hunger for revenge.
But one of them was my uncle. And the other was Ferda’s.
If they knew about me, they would kill me. I knew that for certain. I couldn’t fathom how my father had escaped death the first time, but I knew that if the Watch learned the truth about us, it would not happen again.
My muscles ached as I pushed myself up off the floor. I staggered across the room to the kitchen table, where I’d dumped my satchel. The vial of amber liquid was nestled safely at the bottom. I withdrew it and took a small sip. I still didn’t trust Ban, but it seemed like the medicine had worked for a short time, at least. I wanted to be able to speak with my parents when they got home from labor without a fit interrupting us. I could only hope that the liquid’s effects would last long enough to let me think of a solution.
After swallowing the medicine, I wandered into the bedroom and sat on my pallet, mentally rehearsing the eveni
ng’s conversation. The thin light through the blackened window grew dimmer as midday shifted to late afternoon. My eyelids felt heavy, and I belatedly remembered Ban’s warning that the medicine would make me drowsy. I hadn’t noticed the night before, since I’d taken it right before bed.
Surely a short nap couldn’t hurt. My parents will wake me when they come in.
I drifted off, my mind bobbing gently on waves of emptiness.
“Miranda?”
The ground was soft and damp beneath my body. Leaves rustled in the breeze, and unfamiliar animals whistled.
“Miranda, wake up.”
My eyelids were so heavy that I didn’t think I’d be able to lift them no matter how hard I tried. But someone was prodding me persistently, and her voice cut through the stupor of my sleepiness.
“Ferda?” I asked groggily.
She looked down at me in concern. “What are you doing here?”
I was collapsed on the ground in the same woods I had found her in the night before. The sky behind her head was tinged pink, with yellow-orange clouds. Nearly sunset? Or was Orbe’s sky always this color?
With effort, I replied, “I was asleep.”
“I can see that. But I’ve never seen anyone sleep on the sixth plane before. Are you all right?”
“I feel strange. Like I’m half-in and half-out of my body.” Even my voice felt heavy, and moving my lips was a struggle.
Ferda crouched beside me and rolled me into a sitting position, slinging my arm around her shoulders. “Are you ill?” she asked, hoisting me to my feet.
“I think it’s the medicine.”
Ferda frowned. “Medicine? Miranda, am I missing something here?”
“I took the amber liquid for my fits. It made me sleepy.” Even as the words came out, my brain grew more alert, and I instantly regretted them. I tried to say something, to take it back, but my tongue tripped over itself.
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