The Sundered

by Ruthanne Reid

  I sit on the ruin of a crystalline tower, watching the fires that still burn in the city below.

  I knew this would happen someday. Father told me Travelers come and go, and I wasn't supposed to get attached. He said I should just keep going, and not let it ruin my day.

  He didn't tell me how bad it would feel. He didn't tell me about the shame, about the sure, heavy heartbeat of failure. He didn't tell me they'd see through my toughness and posturing, see instead the miserable child who found out the hard way that Iskinders aren't allowed to dream.

  Prove to yourself and to others that you're a leader, father said. There's nothing else I'm allowed to be.

  I wipe my eyes with my sleeve because they're leaking. Stupid. This is all so stupid. Tomorrow, we should get to the boats and go.

  “Nice master,” says Gorish quietly, and pats my leg.

  I'm not home. I have no home until I find the Hope. “Where's Aakesh?”

  Gorish wriggles closer and points. “There! No, there. No, there!”

  He's coming closer. Good. That means he finished his last job, which also means I have no more reasons to stay. No more eating into Tenisia's dwindling food supply. No more unearthing broken corpses for the lawmen to identify.

  My eyes won't stop leaking. What a pain in the ass.

  Aakesh lands beside me with the grace of a cat, coming to rest in a crouch, his long striped tail waving over his head. His thin whiskers twitch and his bright green eyes gleam.

  “That's a beautiful disguise, you know,” I manage. “I really like it.”

  “I am aware.” He stands, and just that quickly, he's back to normal, solid black against the lighter black sky, tailless and slender and orange-eyed.

  I stand less gracefully, sore even though I'm moving with his power. “You can tell what I'm thinking and feeling,” I blurt.

  I hadn't meant to confront him. All my usual filters are gone.

  “Sometimes, yes,” he says humbly.

  “And you can tell where people are, or something like that. You knew Parnum wasn't here, and that my Travelers were all over.”

  “I can ... detect residue, my lord,” Aakesh says. “It is not a foolproof sense.”

  He also minimizes things that should be absolutely terrifying. That's probably why he minimizes them.

  We make an odd pair, him all ebony and sleek, me just kind of brown. Brown hair, green-brown eyes, sun-brown skin. Him, a first-tier overflowing with dignity. Me, a crazy guy chasing after a pipe dream and only able to move because he's lending me power. This situation isn't something I'd have dreamed up in a million years. “No wonder you first-tier tend to hide,” I say, heading toward the stairs. “I don't know if we'd hunt you down or just work you to death.”

  “You, my lord, have done neither,” he says smoothly.

  My stomach twists. He's right, but I'm not promoting Sundered welfare over human. I'm not.

  Gorish pats me on the back. Whether he understands the conversation or not, he knows the bitter sting of failure.

  ● ●

  ● CHAPTER 16 ●

  I’m Fine

  I’m fine.

  My home is in pieces and the man I loved like a father is missing, but I don't want to think about it, so I won't. Instead, I do what I should've been doing this whole time: looking for the Hope, filling in my map, keeping busy. How about that, brain? How about that?

  We work hard, looting half-submerged ships and abandoned camps. I take the first and last turns on every trip, staining my hands red on ruined metal, doing more than anybody, leading by example.

  I'm fine.

  I study the maps at night by firelight. I sketch in what I've seen—little marks for landfall, little t's for tufts, little circles for places with significant scavenging potential. I won't miss the Hope. I'll find it. Everything will be good. When we get near Liberia, I march us in and out, selling everything in a day and taking only one night for rest. That is efficiency.

  We work our way north to Nickels, filling our boats. I have us in and out in two days.

  This feels good. Powerful. Like we're accomplishing something. We go west to London (two days) and Bellat (one day). I don't know how long it's been since we left ... that place. I don't care.

  It's starting to snow. Also don't care.

  I'm fine.

  “Hey, Harry?”

  It's been a few days since anyone talked to me. Aakesh's warm hands turn my head, and there's Tomas.

  He looks uncomfortable. “Uh,” he says. “Is there a city near here, maybe?”

  He's shivering, but so am I. Nothing's iced over, not yet, but it's colder every day. Nights are getting a little brutal. “Yes, but it's a snow-city, and you know I don't like those.”

  He looks really close to whining. He'd better not, or I might smack it out of him, Demos be damned. “Well, we were thinking,” says Tomas, and stops. Something about my eyes makes him stop. “I mean ... we're cold, and it's been a couple weeks since ... you know, since we took a break. And our boats are getting full, anyway, so we need to sell things soon. And it'd be good to take a break before refilling our supplies for, you know, winter.”

  Gorish wriggles at my side, nuzzling my leg, and I pet him out of habit. I hold Tomas' gaze before answering, keeping it hard and cold, just like father said it should be. “That's a good thought, Tomas.” I turn to my map, which is laid out by the fire, beautiful and clean. “Where would you suggest we go?”

  “South.” He sounds uncertain. “We could go south.”

  “Oh, I see.” This is why they need me. This is why. “South? You know we'd be heading straight for Bek.”

  “No!” he says, pulling back, looking from my map to me like he's not sure which is more dangerous. “Are you crazy? No!”

  “That's south from where we are now, Tomas. You can't just pick a direction and go. That's not how this works.”

  He takes a big breath. “Tauri. Let's go there. That's nearby, isn't it?”

  “Tauri. A snow-city.”

  “Yes,” he hesitates. “But it's closest to us now, and it's further away from Teni—” He trails off, and I stare at him so hard my eyes hurt. He licks his lips. “It's, uh. In a consistent direction,” he amends lamely.

  I can't believe he nearly said that name. I can't believe he dared. My face heats, and I'm closer than I've ever been to hitting him. “Go tell the others. Tauri it is.”

  He scampers away like a terrified rat.

  I go back to my map, figuring out which blank sections I can fill in on the way there. He's right—our boats are getting full. Pretty soon we're going to have to pass up any goods we see. Oh, well. The map is what's important. Finding the Hope is what's important.

  “Your Travelers doubt you,” says Aakesh in my ear, sliding his hair across my shoulder as he sits beside me.

  I shiver and stare at him. I look with the same hardness, the same implacability I showed Tomas, but I might as well be glaring at a wall. I'm looking at him with his strength, not mine. “Do they? They've told you this? Or you can just read all minds now?”

  “It is clear from their actions and expressions, my lord. What do you intend to do?” he says, like we're making conversation now, like everything's normal.

  I clench my jaw. “You heard me.” I look at my map, half-surprised it doesn't burst into flame with the power of my glare. “We're going to Tauri.”

  “I heard you, my lord, but I am not referring to your immediate plans.”

  I sigh deeply, heavily. My chest hurts. “We're looking for the Hope. Your friends the Soothsayers made that clear, remember?”

  “No Soothsayer is my friend, my lord.”

  I laugh harshly. “Why not? They know your name, and all.”

  “I am surprised at the depth of your anthropomorphism,” Aakesh says, tilting his head.

  What the hell does that mean? “My what?”

  “You are projecting your humanity onto me,” he says, and stretches toward the fire, long and limber.
He looks like something that should be painted on a wall. “Merely because they earned something does not mean I hold any emotional attachment to them. That is a human response.”

  What's he talking about? That's not a threat, is it? “You're not human.”

  “Correct.”

  He must be pissing me off on purpose. “Where do you come up with these words, anyway?”

  “They are human words. I merely use them.”

  Right. Sure.” Aakesh, this conversation isn't going anywhere useful, so unless you actually have something worthwhile to say ... ”

  “You must grieve.”

  Those three words hit me like a hammer. My breathing stops, and I wait, fists clenched, for the pain to pass. “I have nothing to grieve for.”

  “You have Tenisia.”

  How dare he? “Don't you say that name,” I say in a low, dark whisper.” You don't know anything.”

  “You are not well.”

  “If I'm not, it's because I'm overloaded protecting the two of you!” I roll my map more roughly than I should, my jaw tight.

  “You have changed,” Aakesh says in a near whisper, rises, and sways over to the other side of the fire.

  You have changed.

  Well, so what if I have? People change! It doesn't matter! I don't care! Who cares? Nobody, that's who!

  I haven't gone into his head in a while. I've barely gone into my own. Maybe I should, maybe I need to see what he sees for a while. Everything's more beautiful for him. I close my eyes and try to remember to breathe.

  The night comes alive with colors, drifting through the air in a hundred currents and a hundred shades. They dance over the fire, and oh, the fire, playing, flinging itself to meet the sky in a sparkling dance of a thousand skittering embers. I catch hints of glowing threads in the corners of my (his?) sight, connecting everything in the whole world. I can feel them in my skin, joining the fire, joining the air.

  It's such a beautiful world through his eyes. Why does he get to see that, and not us? All I have is mud and black water. All I have is two dying species and hopeless ends.

  What does Gorish see? He's on my leash now. I should be able to see through him, too, right?

  Aakesh touches my arm. “You will kill him.”

  I startle back into my own head and blink in the sudden darkness. “I ... what?”

  His gaze is steady. “Harry. Seeing through his eyes will kill him. He does not have the strength.”

  I stare at him.

  He looks right back at me, unblinking, unmoving.

  I could kill Gorish that easily, by accident. I'm suddenly tasting what I ate for dinner, and not in a good way. “Okay.”

  Aakesh does his half-nod and backs off again.

  Gorish rests his head on my foot, nuzzling my calf, and smiles. He's a simpleton.

  He's my simpleton.

  I'm not going to risk him by disbelieving Aakesh on this.

  ● ●

  ● CHAPTER 17 ●

  Again?

  Tomas is right. Our tents aren't warm enough for winter. If we keep on this mad jag to map out the north, we're going to have to get outfitted.

  Aakesh is right, too. I don't need to eavesdrop to know my Travelers doubt me. They'd be stupid not to.

  It's my own fault. Losing Sheldon and Jax made me crazy, like I had to push everyone away before they left on their own. It didn't help. The hurt didn't leave, no matter how hard I tried.

  I'm not fine at all.

  I peek out of my tent. The very far edge of the sky is light, and I realize the black water hasn't been speeding our journey since we left T ...

  Tenisia.

  Tenisia.

  Stop being weak, Harry. Tenisia, Tenisia, Tenisia!

  Oh, Tenisia.

  The tears come hard and fast, so sudden I can't stop my cries, and all I can do is try to muffle them against my arm as I pull back inside my tent.

  Tenisia. Even if they fix it, it'll never be the same. Tenisia. I'm so sorry. Maybe if I'd taken more of an interest in Bek, in testy, in everything in Danton, this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe it has nothing to do with me and it'd have happened anyway. There's no way to know.

  I weep until it stops, all on its own, like I ran out of sorrow. Hollowness takes its place.

  But it's better hollow. It feels like all the pain got poured out into the mud.

  I can say the name now. I can move on. I wasn't going to find the Hope like this, anyway.

  When my Travelers rise and get ready to leave, I realize they're ignoring me. Nobody wants to see the weather in my eyes, and it's my own fault. I've been a jackass.

  I wait until the boats are loaded before making my move. Sometimes, my father was wrong. “Hey. Everybody? Could I have a moment?”

  They all stare at me.

  I swallow. “I've been a jackass lately.”

  More stares.

  “I'm sorry.” I rub my tired eyes. “Losing Tenisia, losing Jax and Sheldon, it messed me up. I took it out on you. I'm sorry.”

  For a long, hard moment, no one speaks.

  “It's okay, Harry. It's not your fault. You're under ... stress,” Sandra nearly whispers, glancing at my Sundered Ones.

  “It's okay,” says Toddy, patting me on the back.” It's been rough for us all, you know?”

  Tomas doesn't look at me at all.

  “Awww,” says Kaia, and she gives me a big, bosomy hug.

  Most of them forgive me.

  Nobody seems to think I'm weak.

  Okay, Aakesh. I think I owe you for this.

  We can see Tauri by evening.

  How does Aakesh do that? Sundered Ones can conjure things from thin air and can move stuff with their minds, but this is over the line. I don't care what he says about the water being responsible. He's the one who knows what I'm thinking.

  The water is starting to get slushy, thickened with almost-ice. We have to stop now and then to break bits of it off our boats. “Can the water sink people, Aakesh?” I ask quietly.

  “No. It is not that strong.” He sounds weary.

  “It's strong enough to push us or slow us down.”

  He sighs. “There is a difference, my lord, between breathing and lifting the combined weight of yourself and others.”

  How sad is it that I'm getting used to statements like that?

  Weird statements or no, this is going to suck. Tauri is a snow-city. Snow-cities are different by design. Cold weather, storms, and icy walkways make the normal open-air layout impossible. Even snow-cities have to accommodate canals, though, so Sundered architects found a way: they make a series of tunnels in the ground to retain heat, vented by fist-sized holes that let steam out through the ceilings, and keep the canals between the walls.

  The exits are only at the ends. There are no windows—it would kill every Sundered One in the world to have to heat a city-sized place that was open to the sky.

  Even so, most of the heat comes from boilers beneath the city, black water steaming every hour of the day. It's a brilliant way to do it. It's not as if they're ever going to run out of water, and boiling it doesn't quickly tire Sundered to the point of death. So what if you're trapped in a claustrophobic tube with steamy, moldy air and no outside light? You've got heat. It's all good.

  I hate snow-cities.

  Did I mention that they collapse sometimes? Too much snow builds up and they flatten, swallowing people under the ice. You hear about it, told with uneven laughter and too-wide eyes and shaky voices.

  I really hate snow-cities.

  Tauri looks pretty busy today, with streams of Travelers coming and going. It makes sense—winter is coming. Anybody in the area needs to get outfitted, so all the snow-cities are doing gangbuster-business right now.

  Good for them. Sucks for us. Competition always drives prices low.

  We get in line with everybody else as we row toward the main entrance, a portcullis gaping into blackness. It's like we're willingly rowing down a predator's maw. There are
twenty boats at least in front of us, with probably more lined up inside, and as we wait, six more pull up behind. Damn. How many Travelers are out here today?

  Somebody pulls out of line, way ahead, and starts rowing toward us.

  I lay my hand on my knife, just in case. You never know. The world is full of nutcases.

  Still, I didn't expect this guy to slow as he approached, his bow pointed directly toward me. What's going on? Is this someone I know? “Can I help you?” I say calmly, gripping my knife.

  “I hope that knife is sharp enough to be useful,” he says in a formal northern-city accent, and he pulls back his hood and grins.

  It's Parnum.

  Shock drops my jaw, renders me dumb. Parnum! What's he doing here? How? “You!” I shout like an idiot, and reach for his boat to pull us together.

  “Harry,” he says, gripping my boat with the same idea, and leans in to hug me tight. We're both laughing, amazed, uplifted, our boats bumping as everybody stares.

  I couldn't care less. It's Parnum. This is a miracle.

  “Harry!” he says. “My goodness, you've grown! Look at you! Fit as a fiddle!”

  “I'm almost as tall as you,” I say, an old and ridiculous joke, because I'm on the short side and he's definitely not. He sits there, a tall strong man with dark hair and a goatee just long enough to curl, with thick gold rings I should have recognized, and a light in his eyes that makes the whole world look better. His left eye is blue and his right eye is brown, and when I was a child, I was jealous.

  He laughs. “I'd say you're just the right height, my friend.”

  “Next!” barks the second-tier Sundered clinging to the top of the tunnel, glaring down at us like we're breaking the rules. Boy, he's a weird one, broad as he is tall, with wildly defined musculature, covered in black wiry hair, and he's hung like a—

  “We'll continue this later. I'm staying at the Glacier. Come and ask for me,” says Parnum with a smile, and he paddles back the way he came.

  I grin like someone who just woke up from a terrible dream. Nothing could steal my happiness right now.