The Lighthouse between the Worlds

by Melanie Crowder

  Fi wished that had been her job. She wanted so badly to look into their faces, to show them that she was here, ready to fight for them. But someone would be getting word to the raze crews. She was sure of it. And she’d have to be content with that.

  18

  A DISTRACTION

  On the day Fi had left Aunt Ada at the resistance command post deep in the wildlands, the stern woman had taken her niece by the shoulders and told her Everything is connected. She’d explained that Somni and Vinea were like seeds set loose on the same gust of wind, spinning in a slow dance together. Even if Fi and her aunt were worlds apart, they would always be connected.

  Each time Fi approached the house that wasn’t truly her home, she repeated those words. And she breathed deep to make room for the missing that was always there, lodged beneath her ribs. Missing home. Missing green things growing all over the place. Missing her family. And then she would breathe it back out, open the door, and step over the threshold.

  The house was dark. Fi crossed the room to where Liv and Eb huddled together near the window. “Well?” she whispered.

  “I heard back from my contact,” Liv said. “We need his help if we’re going to pull this off.”

  “Can’t we just sneak into the tower in the middle of the night and send everybody back to Vinea?”

  “It’s more complicated than that. We have to free the dreamers and help them get up the tower steps—they’ll be too weak to walk. We need to alert the resistance on Vinea so they can distract the soldiers at the fort. And then we have to destroy the portal here on Somni—I don’t have time to explain it all. We have to go. Now.”

  “All of us?”

  “You and Eb will stay here. He’ll transition someone new into my place.”

  “You can’t leave me behind, Liv. I’m the one who found Griffin. He trusts me.” She didn’t need to whisper. He was out of it, curled up on the cushions and snoring. Even in his sleep, he looked wounded, like he was bracing for the next round of heartbreak. “Or he almost does. He’ll follow you if I’m going too.”

  “You may be right.” Liv grimaced. “Fine. Come with us, then. But you’ll have to hurry. The temple division is creating a distraction in exactly nine minutes. We need to be ready. We’ll only have a few minutes of cover.”

  It wasn’t the first time Fi had gotten instructions like those. She hadn’t always lived with Eb and Liv. She hadn’t always been assigned to the rectory. Each time she’d moved, it had been in the dark of night, and under the cover of a “distraction.”

  Griffin bolted upright, looking frantically around him. Fi helped him to stand, then turned away so she didn’t have to watch as sorrow settled over his shoulders like ash raining out of the sky after a forest fire. It was too easy, looking into the face of someone else’s devastation, to find yourself smothered by your own.

  Fi hurried to gather her things. Aunt Ada’s necklace of braided moonwort stems went around her neck. The coarse seed of a sessil tree that had been spelled by Great-Aunt Una went into her bag with a spare stola. Finally, she wrapped her shoulders in a blanket Uncle Cam had woven for her from the silky strands of osier bark.

  Griffin came to stand beside her, and he watched Fi linger over each item. There was longing in her eyes, and sadness deep as a dug grave. Griffin reached out with an open palm just as she was about to put a sachet of dirt into her little bag. Fi met his gaze, and the hardness snapped back into place, her defenses up again. But he wasn’t judging her. He looked, instead, like he understood what he had seen, or at least he wanted to.

  She dropped the sachet into his palm, and he brought it up to his nose, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Without meaning to, Fi did the same, and it took her right back to the thick of the jungle, to the smell of wet soil and damp leaves and life budding and blooming all around her.

  “You miss home.” It wasn’t a question. “And I guess you miss your parents, too?”

  Fi held out the open bag, and he slipped the packet of soil inside. “No—I mean yes, of course. It’s just that we don’t think of it like that. Vinean families are more like a shared root system. There are so few children. We are raised by the generation that came before us, and the one before them. We don’t have parents and siblings. We have aunts and uncles, great-aunts and great-uncles if we’re lucky. We all grow up together, in one big cluster. So no, I don’t miss just one or two people.” She swallowed and swallowed again to let the words through. “I miss them all.”

  Fi sniffed to bring herself back, clipped the bag to her waist, and moved to the window. The roving beam from the temple tower had been switched off, and in the houses all around, the glow of candlelight had gone out.

  Suddenly, a boom sounded to the east, and a flare of orange billowed up beside the tower. Griffin yelped and jumped back. Without thinking, Fi swept an arm out and dragged him against the wall. He was breathing hard and his eyes were startled wide, but he relaxed against her arm, and when she leaned forward again to peek out the window, he did too. Flames lit up the layers of low-lying clouds, turning them a hazy tangerine that seemed to seep onto the bricks below. Outside, the sound of people running and guards shouting reverberated against the walls. In the homes beyond the servants’ quarters, people huddled together, peering out of their windows.

  “Now,” Liv whispered. And with barely a sound, she and the children slid out the door and along the stone wall, heading in the opposite direction of the blaze. Eb lifted his arm in farewell, and then he closed the door behind them.

  Liv led them past the servants’ quarters and into the Somnite neighborhoods. Fi hurried close behind Liv. Just as she only knew a handful of others in the resistance, she also didn’t know why they moved when they did. For all that she’d been told, and everything she’d guessed at between overheard conversations, Fi only knew so much.

  For starters, she had no idea where Liv was taking them.

  Darkness blended their silhouettes into the shadows as they wove through first one segment of neighborhoods then another two. On Vinea, it was a rare thing to see the whole sky, from one end of the horizon to the other. The air was crisp, and in between branches, the stars shimmered white as meadowsweet blossoms against a blue-black sky. But the night sky on Somni was only a darker yellow, a haze of cloudy green blotting out the stars.

  When the flames dimmed and finally went out, Liv, Fi, and Griffin stopped at last in front of a house on the outskirts of the city. Liv walked straight up to the door and let herself in. Inside, the home looked a lot like the ones in the servants’ quarters, only bigger, and more permanent, somehow.

  Houses on Somni were small, single rooms punctuated by a few resin windows and a door. Rainwater was channeled from the roof to a series of cisterns that lined the walls. Eight wedges marked the floor, which was made from the same brick that paved the streets and raised the walls, only this was thinner, and burnished smooth by the feet that had crisscrossed the room over the years.

  No one came to greet them. No one lay in the beds stacked along the wall. No one sat on the pile of cushions on the floor. But still, Fi couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She scanned the room, looking for the source of the twitch between her shoulder blades. Beside her, Griffin was doing the same. She took a step toward him.

  The only person who didn’t seem alarmed by the empty room was Liv. She stepped to the center, where the eight segments met, and she turned in a slow circle, her arms raised in the air. “We’re here,” she announced to the empty room. And then she let her arms drop.

  One moment everything was still, and the next a whole segment of the floor dropped. Griffin and Fi jumped back. The bricks groaned as they sank, dust spilling over the edges and into the dark below. And then it stopped, just as suddenly as it had begun.

  Liv walked to the edge and stepped down. She looked over her shoulder at Griffin and Fi. “Are you coming?”

  And then she jumped into the gap between the sunken floor and the emptin
ess beneath.

  19

  THE UNDERGROUND

  Fi set her shoulders back. She wasn’t afraid. She crossed to the edge and leaped.

  Griffin looked around the empty room. He could just leave. He didn’t have to jump down into that gaping hole—he didn’t have anything to prove to anybody. Sweat broke out at his hairline and trickled down his back. How was it possible that nights on Somni were even hotter than the days?

  It was one thing to do whatever Fi said when she had him pinned in a dark closet. Or to believe Liv back in the servants’ quarters. But anything might be waiting for him down there. It might be the help he needed to bring his dad home—or it could be a trap. Griffin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He closed his eyes, and his mother’s voice swept in like a wave at night, her words clear as the moment she’d first spoken them: Take a breath, sweet Griffin, and let go.

  He breathed deep, and it was her voice and her words that won.

  Griffin jumped.

  The ground below was closer than he’d thought. Griffin landed with a jolt that slammed into his heels and rattled the base of his neck. He stumbled, his arms flailing for balance. But Fi was there. She grabbed him under the elbows and held on until he was steady. Together they blinked, trying to see through the darkness.

  Liv didn’t seem to notice. She stared into the dark mouth of a tunnel that stretched, black and yawning, before them. The sound of slow footsteps approaching whispered against the tunnel walls as, gradually, a figure emerged from the darkness.

  “Liv. We got your message, and of course we noticed your distraction.” It was too dark in the tunnel to see the face that went with the voice. But whoever it was didn’t sound happy to see them. Not at all. “You weren’t followed?”

  Liv shook her head.

  A man’s face wavered into view. He eyed Fi and Griffin, and a frown flitted over his features. “You know the consequences of coming here uninvited.”

  “I do.”

  “It was foolish to bring children, then.”

  Beside Griffin, Fi went rigid.

  Liv beckoned to the boy. “Actually, the children are the only reason I’ve come. Griffin, Fi, meet Arvid.”

  A man with hair so blond it was nearly white stepped out of the shadows. He was willowy as a sapling, his skin so pale it held a bluish tinge.

  Fi stepped sharply back. “But he’s Somnite!”

  Arvid ticked his head to the side. “You thought Vinea was the only world to wish an end to the priests?”

  Fi gaped. “But—how?”

  “You’ll see,” Liv said, which earned her another droll look from the Somnite. “Arvid, Griffin has something to show you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Liv shook her head. “I know all about your protections. Get us out of this tunnel and away from those charges, and we’ll tell you.”

  Griffin looked overhead for the first time. A pair of explosives was set into the ceiling of the tunnel. Protections. Griffin shuddered.

  “You know what you’re asking?” Again, the man’s eyes rested uncomfortably on the children.

  “Arvid. We don’t have time for this. Hypatia’s back.”

  His eyebrows rose sharply to meet the wrinkles that traversed his forehead. “Follow me.” Arvid ducked his head, leading them on a path through the tunnels that turned and twisted, branching left, then right, then doubling back again.

  Aboveground, the low clouds reflected even small dots of light, so it was never really dark on Somni, not like a moonless night on Earth when both ocean and sky were black, with only the lighthouse beams to cut through the darkness. The tunnels, though—Griffin blinked and blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could see a little ways in front of him. But it never got any better.

  The farther down they traveled, the colder the air became. Griffin’s ears popped, adjusting to the change in pressure. He’d never find his way out of there without help. He reached in front of him, to where Fi should have been. His knuckles banged against her ribs, and she reached back, grabbing for his hand.

  And then the darkness didn’t seem so frightening. So slowly he almost didn’t notice, the tunnels began to lighten. First, Griffin could see his feet below him, and then the rough rock of the walls to either side. Before long, it was so bright he had to blink against the widening tunnel, and then, suddenly, they weren’t in a tunnel at all.

  Griffin stepped into a cavern with steel pillars reinforcing an impossibly high ceiling. In front of them, a dozen Somnites hustled back and forth, conferencing in groups, bending over broad tables to work on some sort of device, and carrying messages into the spray of tunnels that branched off the main cavern.

  In the center of the roof, a single bulb shone. There wasn’t another light in the whole cavern—not a candle or oil lamp or scrap of glowing lichen. Just one electric bulb. And around it, jagged slabs of translucent resin amplified the light to fill the cavern.

  Griffin laughed, a short burst of surprise. “Of course! The prisms bend and focus the light source, just like in a Fresnel lens.”

  Arvid and Liv nodded while Fi looked around for what everyone else seemed to understand but she clearly did not. “Like a what?”

  “Like the lens in a lighthouse.”

  “A what?”

  “On Earth, our tower is part of a lighthouse, and the beams of light help keep ships safe in bad weather. The lens uses a series of prisms and molded glass to make the beams so much stronger than they would be otherwise.” Griffin pointed up to the cavern roof. “They’re using the same method here, to light the place with just one bulb. Except that isn’t glass.

  “Wait—is that a kiln over there in the corner? And are those glassmaker’s shears on the workbench? Why would you—”

  “Griffin.” Liv’s voice carried a wary note as she cut in. “Show Arvid your mom’s drawing, would you? The one with the necklaces?”

  Griffin hesitated. He didn’t know why Liv had brought him here. He didn’t know who this guy was, and the last thing he wanted to do with his mom’s things was wave them around for strangers to gawk at. He’d promised his dad that he wouldn’t show the journal to anyone. But the drawings were different. They’d hung in plain sight for years. Maybe they were meant to be seen and shared.

  Griffin drew his lower lip through his teeth. At some point, he was going to have to trust somebody. He lifted his shirt and reached into the pouch at his waist, carefully extracting the drawing Liv had asked for and holding it out for the Somnite to see.

  Arvid’s eyes widened as he stared at the page. “His mother’s drawing? So this is Katherine and Philip’s boy?”

  Shock crested like a sneaker wave behind Griffin. The last thing he expected was for this Somnite to know his parents too. Every time he thought he might be beginning to understand how things worked here, something new knocked him flat.

  When Liv nodded, Arvid knelt down to clasp Griffin by the shoulder. “But—what are you doing here? This is the last thing your parents would have wanted.”

  Liv answered, “We found him in the rectory, trying to sneak into the chapel. He was looking for his father.”

  “Philip is being held by the priests?”

  “Please,” Griffin begged. “Please help me find him.”

  No one spoke, and a long look passed between the adults. Arvid peered down into the boy’s face and back to the drawing in his hands. When he stood, his hand fell away from Griffin’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. As much as I respect your father, I can’t risk what we’re building here to help you.”

  20

  SACRED

  Arvid and Liv crossed the cavern to a second tunnel carved into the far wall and disappeared into the darkness. Griffin looked like he’d been flattened by a windblown tree, and Fi didn’t have a clue what to say. There wasn’t anything anyone could say to soften that kind of blow.

  Fi was grateful, of course, that Arvid had decided against blasting that tunnel and buryin
g them all inside. She was furious for Griffin—that he’d come all this way, that he’d trusted her, only to be shut down. But more than any of that? She was confused.

  Fi had spent the last few years giving everything to her work in the resistance so Vinea could be liberated. She’d always known there was more to the plan than she was aware of—that’s just the way it worked. Of course they wouldn’t tell her all the little details. But learning that there was a whole network of Somnite rebels she’d never even heard of? What else weren’t they telling her?

  It’s like when you’re trekking through the underbrush, and you think the person in front of you, the one you’ve been counting on to lead the way, is holding the branches back long enough for you to pass, so they don’t slap you in the face.

  Only she’s not. She never was.

  Fi followed after Liv and Arvid, pulling Griffin along with her. The tunnel went dark as they left the cavern, and then slowly brightened, the air warming as they drew closer to a second one. The light was different this time, gauzy and dim. The air was wet, like the jungles of Vinea. Fi lifted her face and closed her eyes, a wave of homesickness wafting over her like steam. The air laid droplets of moisture on her cheeks and in her hair. The fabric of her stola clung to her calves instead of swishing and twitching with every step. When they stepped out of the tunnel at last, even Arvid, who must have seen the sight every day, stopped and stared reverently upward.

  This cavern wasn’t empty like the last one, echoing with the sound of people going about their work. This one was full. Trees stretched from a bed of dark, rich soil clear to the roof of the cavern. You could only see a little of the canopy, though. The first few branches were distinct, but the next were obscured by a layer of thick, wet clouds. On the ground, between the staggered tree trunks, beds were planted in the soil, some occupied and others empty, waiting for nightfall.