Evan Burl and the Falling

by Justin Blaney

  This was not, in and of itself, unexpected. Even a fairly weak sapient would have probably survived so far. But then Hagnus's face tensed like a servant lifting a large sack of flour. She began pulling the ropes back. The horses attached to the other end reared and put their weight into it, perhaps a bit ashamed to be beat by this tiny woman.

  I tipped my head sideways with curiosity. There was even more to this woman than I realized. But I had planned for this possibility. Sometimes these sapients take a little more effort to kill.

  I stepped to the edge of the balcony and placed my hands in front of me, as if they were grasping either side of hagnus's head. I turned my hands and Hagnus's head followed; I tilted her chin up so she was looking at me.

  A few of the onlookers had stepped backwards. No one in the crowd was talking; all that could be heard was the horses and the guards shouting and the cracking of whips. I had to finish this quickly.

  Hagnus's eyes were wide, she could feel my hands on her face. The defiance was gone, I had broken her. She opened her mouth just as I was about to snap her neck. Two words escaped.

  "Evan Burl."

  I stopped myself, halfway through the jerk that would have ended her life. Her face was contorted from the strength of my grip; it looked odd considering nothing appeared to be touching her. I loosened my grip.

  "What did you say?"

  "I know you're looking for him."

  Was this some desperate bid to save her life? How could this girl know about Evan? She must have heard his name somewhere. Surely she couldn't know where he was. But, if she did... I would finally have both pieces to the puzzle. The people of El Qir would soon be working to ensure I could get to Evan, and, could it be possible this woman could tell me where he was hiding? "And if you do?"

  "If you let me live, I'll tell you where to find him."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Evan

  Thursday

  8:45 pm

  26 hours, 4 minutes until the Falling

  When I woke again, it was dark.

  For a moment of panic, I thought I was outside the castle's gates.

  But I wasn't outside. I was still chained to the stairs, right where they left me that morning—if it was the same day. The stool Henri had stood on all night was standing in the middle of the room, not twenty feet from where I lay.

  I'd never been outside the walls and if I could have had my way I never would. Before Pike died I used to imagine helping him run the castle when Mazol got too old. Now I figured Henri would have to run it. But the others would help her. I'd watch them from a distance, do what I could to make sure they were all right without me.

  There was a lump of bread on the floor within reach. Must have been my daily ration. Other than that, no clue to how long I'd been out. I realized with a sinking feeling that I had wasted even more time. I figured I had little more than a day left.

  My eyes went fuzzy and a fragment of a nightmare I'd been dreaming hit me like someone clenching my head in a vice. I shuddered. Yesler must have given me something nasty to make me sleep all day like that. It was a restless sleep that took more than it gave.

  For what felt like hours, days even, I had been dreaming the same nightmares over and over, but I couldn't remember the details. Just the sick feeling they left me with.

  I remembered Pearl and sat up so fast I hit my head on the stair handrail.

  I hadn't thought it all through. Even if I got rid of Mazol and the other warts, the rest of the fallings could die from the affliktion. I couldn't get rid of Mazol until I found out what was killing them. What if he was the only one who knew how to heal it? A plan formed in my mind. I had an idea for finding out what was causing the affliktion, but I would need Henri's help.

  I looked around nervously. The warts could come at any moment. There was no time to lose. Who knew how much time I had already wasted?

  At least my body was working again.

  I looked down at the lock on my wrist and, despite everything, found myself grinning. After what I did to Pearl, after I lifted a 500 lb barrel of oil over my head, they actually thought this little shackle was going to stop me?

  I was about to break it, when I realized the wiser choice was to keep it intact so I could come back and lock myself up later. If the warts were underestimating me, I didn't want to do anything to tip them off that they were wrong. They obviously didn't know what I was capable of.

  I peered inside the shackle with my eyes closed. I could perfectly picture every gear, every spring, every pin. In an instant I knew how it worked better than the person who invented it. I flicked my finger and the shackle sprang free. I might have wasted most of the last few days, but I had managed to learn a least a few tricks. I bet Marcus would have been surprised at the magic show I could do now. I tucked that idea away, a possibility for how I could keep myself fed once I left Daemanhur.

  I watched for a moment as the shackles swung from the banister, wondering how many times they had been used to punish the fallings. How many times had those shackles been used to bind us to the lashing pole, where we waited for the whip to fall on our back?

  Then, quite unexpectedly, it exploded into a thousand pieces. The sound of the tiny metal shards falling all around the huge room sounded like rain on a tin roof.

  For a second I couldn't believe what I'd done, but then I shrugged my shoulders. So what if the warts found out I could break free from a pair of worthless shackles—at least they weren't going to be used to harm anyone ever again.

  I rose to my feet, intending to run down the hall, but my leg didn't cooperate. Pain ripped through me, and I realized I was missing my brace. I tried to think back but couldn't remember when I lost it. Whole parts of the last few days were missing from my memory.

  I ripped a spindle from the stair case and, using it as a cane, limped along as fast as I could. Two of my appendages were now useless, but I was thankful for what I had. One arm, one leg and a spindle—it was all I needed. If I got good enough with sapience, I may not even need those.

  I limped through the dark passages back to one of the Caldroen's heavy iron doors on the main level. The fallings were supposed to stop working when the sun set, but I had a feeling they would be working late tonight. Mazol had grown obsessed with completing our next order ahead of schedule and they were likely to get behind with me and Pearl not there to help today. I peaked inside the Caldon and sure enough, I saw torches lighting the whole room with flickering firelight. It looked like everyone was still there.

  Once I was sure no one was looking, I darted inside and into a utility room, then crawled through a large duct that vented hot air away so the clankers didn't get overheated. I had used that same room for spying twice before, it offered a great view of the entire Caldroen. I watched through a rusted iron grate into the cavernous room for a while, trying to find Henri.

  Then I spotted her. She was talking with Mazol quietly in the corner. I don't know why, but it made my blood boil to see them together. I remembered the vision I had before I blacked out; Henri laughing with Mazol as they stared at me. I shook it off. That wasn't real. Little Sae was with them and Little Sae was dead. It was just the stuff in that syringe playing tricks on me.

  Henri was staring at the floor, her eyes red, but she kept nodding. After a minute, he finished talking and she seemed to go back to her regular routine, checking the machines and making sure the other girls had what they needed.

  Mazol could have been telling her anything, I told myself as I tried to calm down. By the time she passed where I was hiding, I had myself convinced the conversation was innocent.

  "Pssst, Henri," I said.

  She jumped.

  "Over here."

  She bent down, pretending to check something on the Clanker next to the louver and looked into the darkness where I was hiding. I moved forward into the light just enough for her to see my face.

  "What are you doing here?" she whispered with a glance back at Mazol.

  "Lo
oking for you. What were you and Mazol talking about?"

  "Nothing." Her voice was sharp. "Where have you been all day?"

  "Locked up. I think Yesler gave me something to make me sleep."

  "I was worried about you."

  "Can you sneak away with me?"

  She didn't respond right away.

  "I need you for something important."

  "You have to tell me about Pearl first. What happened to her." Her voice shook a little, like she was afraid of what I might say.

  "It was the affliktion."

  "Not that..., you know what I'm talking about. How she moved through the air. Like something invisible hit her."

  "I'm not sure; it was dark. I couldn't see."

  "What about the oil drum? You lifted it like it was nothing—" She was talking so fast I didn't even have a chance to answer.

  "Henri, stop," I snapped. "I need to tell you something."

  As I spoke, the louver's iron grates twisted slightly with a groan, like my words had taken on a power of their own and were bending the metal without me even trying to. Henri looked from me to the grate, then scooted back towards the Clanker a few inches. The transformation was happening. Soon I would be twisting my friends bodies like that iron grate and I wouldn't even realize what I was doing.

  "I don't think Pearl's really dead," I said quickly, hoping she'd forget what she saw.

  "You're not answering me," she said stubbornly.

  "There's no time to talk about it now. Please."

  "I don't know..."

  "Didn't you hear me? Pearl's still alive."

  Henri paused again, like she was deciding whether or not to jump in a cage with a hungry lion.

  "I can prove it to you," I said, "but I need your help."

  Henri glanced in Mazol's direction again. Was she thinking about turning me in? Finally she said, "Pearl had the affliktion. Everyone who gets the affliktion dies."

  "So we should just give up on her?"

  "Sometimes that's all we can do."

  "Is that what Mazol told you?"

  She folded her arms defiantly, but avoided my eyes.

  "Mazol is a liar," I said. "He'll say anything to get us to do what he wants."

  "I know that."

  "Then why do you believe him?"

  "I don't," she said. "Listen, you're in a lot of trouble. You should get out of here before you get caught."

  "Don't you get it? If we find Pearl, we can figure out how to stop the affliktion." My mind was working so fast, it was coming to me as the words came out of my mouth. I had given Pearl a skull pendant. If we could get the skull, we would finally know what was causing the affliktion.

  "You're not making any sense."

  "Just meet me in the hall in five minutes."

  "But—"

  I left before she could ask any more questions. It was horrible, what I was about to ask her to do. If she knew more now, she'd never come. I had to ease her into the idea somehow. There was no good way to explain how I knew to give Pearl the skull, how I'd knew she was going to need saving before she had shown any signs of the affliktion.

  I pictured the others in my head as I made my way back to the hall. Little Sae. Anabelle. Lucy. Parkrose.

  Four dead. Eight still alive. One day to save them and get rid of the warts. The odds were really stacked against me.

  Ten minutes went by and I began to worry she wasn't going to come. I looked at the clock in the hall again. Now it was twelve minutes. Had she gone to Mazol about me? The warts could all be waiting in the next room, figuring out how they would take me down, ready with another one of those syringes. Henri seemed so afraid of me after what happened that morning.

  Just as I convinced myself she had turned against me, she appeared out of the darkness. I limped over to her and without thinking, gave her a huge hug. Then I stepped back, cheeks flushing.

  "What was that for?" she asked.

  "I was starting to worry you wouldn't come," I said.

  "I debated it." She laughed like she was joking, but her tone came off like it might have been true. "So are we gonna talk or go?"

  She was carrying a lamp with a mostly used candle flickering inside; it probably wouldn't last long, but it was better than nothing. We walked towards the far side of the castle, climbing a few flights of stairs on our way to my elusian. I felt a lump growing in my throat as I thought about how Henri was going to react when she learned my plan for finding Pearl.

  "Where are they keeping her? Pearl." Henri said after a long break in our conversation. "If she's still alive."

  "I... I'm not totally sure." Despite my hesitation, I was surprised by how easily I had lied to Henri. "But there's something in my elusian that will help us find her." I couldn't remember ever lying so easily to Henri. It didn't seem like a good development.

  "Are you actually going to let me in?" she asked when we arrived at the closet that led to my elusian. Her tone was teasing, but her voice was harder than usual.

  I hadn't let her inside the room since I discovered I was a sapient. I knew she'd see the inside of my elusian eventually, but I couldn't let her see what was in there. Not until after I was gone.

  "Well..., no," I said. "Sorry. I hope you don't mind. I just need to go in and get something." I opened the trap door inside the closet just wide enough to slip through.

  "What are you hiding in there?" she asked as she tried to peek around me.

  "Nothing. It's just, I don't know. I need a place to..." I couldn't find a way to say it without hurting her or telling her too much.

  "What?"

  "Just don't look," I snapped, but then felt bad for losing my temper and added, "please."

  She didn't respond, but I took her silence as an agreement. I left the closet door open a crack behind me; it would have felt rude to shut it all the way while she was standing there. She was my best friend, after all, and I still trusted her.

  As I walked to the desk, I couldn't help but worry about what was happening to me. Why did I keep snapping at Henri? Maybe I was just tense at having to pass through that cramped closet again. I held my hands out in front of me, I'd left the candle with Henri and didn't want to run into something.

  I got to the desk and opened the drawer. I felt around inside of it, but the small leather bag I'd come for wasn't there.

  Become more frantic by the moment, I searched the desk with my hands, knocking a glass jar and a pile of learning papers off the desk in my panic. Had someone been inside? What did they see? My heart raced faster until my hand found a leather cord under a pile of cloth squares.

  I breathed out deeply, tracing the cord to the small bag it was tied to. No one had been inside my elusian after all. We were about to find out whether Pearl was still alive.

  But when I turned to leave, my heart jumped into my throat. Henri was standing just inside the door, staring at the floor of my elusian holding the little candle lamp. Dark shadows flickered on her face and her eyes were filled with terror. I had no idea how long she'd been there, shocked into silence by the sight of it all.

  How was I ever going to explain what she was seeing?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Claire

  Thursday

  8:57 pm

  25 hours, 52 minutes until the Falling

  I was a spoiled girl. I knew that. I heard adults talking about me and my sister plenty of times when my parents weren't around. It's like everyone over the age of 30 thinks kids don't grow ears until they have to start shaving.

  But I was tired of being spoiled. I didn't want any more furnished dollhouses or conemara ponies or pink dresses with silk ribbons and bows on the shoulder straps or diamond stud earrings or whipped cream pies.

  I wanted to do something important.

  Just a few hours ago, I would have said my papa was important. I guess he still is; people still get quiet when he looks like he's going to open his mouth. People still stand when he walks by. But I didn't want to be like him anymore. I wa
s so mad, I could have kicked him in the shins.

  And now I had to sit through some stupid birthday party for my 1000-times-more-spoiled-than-me sister, pretending that the smiling man cutting the cake isn't a murderer.

  It was the worst night ever.

  By nightfall, hundreds of servants had transformed our entire courtyard into some kind of fantasy world. There were cakes and cookies and treats around every corner; I didn't eat a single one. Pink and white lace draped from every balcony, but I thought they looked like the same ones Papa used last year. Countless candles hung in overlapping rows filling the courtyards and gardens with flickering firelight; a total fire hazard. Then there was the fire breathers and musicians and jugglers and story tellers and fat little women in scary masks and unicyclists and clowns and men on stilts that surrounded me for as far as I could see in any direction. Ugh.

  All through the night, guests would give birthday presents to Anastasia and, as was tradition, gave me whole piles of presents too. We didn't even have to wait to open any of them. A dozen handmaids were standing by to whisk the gifts back to our rooms when we were done playing with them. This was an especially difficult situation for me because I didn't want to be rude to the guests, but I didn't want to show my papa that I was having any fun either. I compromised by politely thanking everyone, but said I wasn't feeling well and sent all the gifts up to my rooms without opening them. I was glad to see that the guests seemed to understand.

  I wish it wasn't true, but all of that didn't even begin to describe the magic of a party Papa could throw. By some trick he wouldn't explain, Papa had filled the air with tiny floating sparkly lights that tasted like vanilla or banana or mango or chocolate if you caught one in your mouth. Then there were the dancing ballerina dolls in the fountains. They just twirled and spun, gliding out across the water's surface and no one could explain how. And of course there were the floating fire-lanterns.

  At 9:00, as the bells that towered over our home rang nine times, the dancing ballerinas paused their pirouettes as if waiting. The candles and torches and floating lights began to dim, until the whole place grew dark as the under-canopy outside the city walls deep in the jungle. The stars looked bright as flames next to the darkness below, until they too seemed to dim somehow, like thick clouds had rolled over the courtyard. In the end it became so dark, I couldn't even see my own hands in front of my face.