Diamondsong 01: Escape

by E. D. E. Bell

  With a nod, the driver began to pedal, and the toothed wheels gripped and clanked their way down toward the low end of the city. She knew she couldn’t rest, but she wasn’t sure her legs could have taken another step.

  Breathing deeply, she tried to calm the flickering spasms in her back and remember what had happened. She’d just arrived home and started to unpack. Ador had stopped by. And then, three strangers had come in without permission—one had touched her without permission—and then they had all proceeded to disrupt a great many tower floors. It didn’t feel real.

  Memories flashed by of the glittering rope, the grasp on her wrist, the burn of the old wood against her hands as she jumped and slid from floor to floor of the tower. Her feelings of survival, her singular focus of getting away.

  She had escaped the tower to realize her pursuers were not ordinary pyrsi, but the fairies of lore, the fairies from the Undergrowth, far to the sur and over the Great Cliff. Looking not as monsters, but extraordinary pyrsi. Looking real.

  One of these fairies had flown in pursuit of Dayn, the poor ma’pyr still in his slippers. Two were chasing her now, and perhaps knew she had taken this car. She wasn’t sure.

  Her heart thumped with worry, and she tried to calm it. She trusted Dayn; he was clever and persistent. He wouldn’t let himself be controlled. Besides, they had treated him like a witness. It was Dime they wanted.

  But why?

  No answers coming to mind, Dime filed through her options. If she had put enough space between them, she could pay the driver and sneak away, to somewhere in the low city. They couldn’t search all of Lodon for her. Pyrsi feared and despised the unseen fairies; that was kneaded into them from the moment of birth. But how could the winged beings be stopped?

  If she could just get away and hide, then she could plan. Paying the driver with an extra rate, she asked to be let out at a nondescript juncture of cafés and shops.

  As the car pulled away, pyrsi screamed and scattered. Harm it! Turning, she saw the flying figures racing toward her again.

  They were flying now as well, without cloaks to conceal their nature. These also had hair: long volumes of hair, shaped as though sculptures of art rather than manes, as they’d always been described. They must have followed her car the whole way, while she was hoping she’d escaped them. Or perhaps they had surveilled the streets below, assuming this was the way she’d go. Either way, they’d found her. Harm it all, they were good. And stubborn!

  “Submit to your arrest!” a low voice called, as a fairy swooped down toward her. Wallside compost bins, twice the height of a pyrsi, swerved into the street, as if to block her way forward. As in, they moved on their own. More valence. Dime shivered.

  One of the bins landed unsteadily and toppled over, knocking over a second, which crashed into the building beside it. The wall cracked, releasing a cloud of dust and smoke, and sending bricks down into the street, where many split or crumbled. The fairy darted back and Dime caught a glimpse of xyr eyes; they were frightened.

  The smooth voice shook now, against tilted vowels, and Dime could see only the rope that the fairy waved, its strange glitter pronounced through the settling dust and the rising smell of spilled compost. “You must trust me!”

  These tactics were dangerous, putting pyrsi in real danger, whether intended or not. She had no idea what values these fairies held or what they might do with their valence if pressed.

  She couldn’t risk finding out. She had to get out of Lodon. Away from pyrsi, away from her family. If she could get out, she could find a place to hide. She’d send them a message that she was no longer in Lodon. She could keep the intruders away.

  Ignoring her shaking legs, she crawled over a heap of rubble and faltered, rolling down into the dusty street before finally regaining her stance. Above her, the fairy let out a loud whistling sound, which she took to be calling the others. At least, then, Dayn was likely safe. For now.

  Either way, there were only so many tricks she could employ here, with three flying creatures determined to tie their glittery ropes to her arms for a purpose she could not conceive, knocking down bins in their careless haste. Out. She needed to get out.

  Walled and nestled into the mountainous crags as Lodon was, the city only had a few reasonable points of entry. Or in her case, exit. Yet, to these flying beings, maybe Lodon’s tall walls and rocky dropoffs meant little.

  That’s it.

  If they would continue to pursue her by air, she would use their advantage to her own. She thought about running toward the Arcade; it wasn’t far. But she wasn’t willing to risk endangering the heavy crowds inside. It was hard to accept this threat of danger, but she had seen the fairy use valence. She had seen the bins move, the bricks flying.

  “Ugh.” She stopped a moment, catching what remained of her breath and shaking a fist into the air, toward the fairy. “Hey, there!” Dime called. Xe dove toward her, and Dime noted what seemed to be a look of relief. Don’t make assumptions, now.

  Dime darted away, running into an alley. With a final grumble, she heaved open a street vent and slid down toward whatever awaited.

  What doesn’t kill you— What a silly sentiment. She just hoped it wouldn’t kill her. There were pyr-size pipes under the central city, as her father, a long-time worker in the Maintenance Circle, had told her. They ran from the mountains to catch melting snow or strong storms. Some fed the wells and others carried less desirable byproducts out to the massive gulch to the eas. She tried not to think about how far downcity she now was.

  And it was the second type of tunnel. Dime couldn’t ignore the smell, though she tried to put it from her mind.

  Da-da had been right: the tunnels were pyr-sized. Though not so much with this one. Crouching, she shuffled through the murky pipe, glad it was the dry season, yet trying not to imagine what her boots might be imbued with by the time she got out. Sliding her sleeve over her wristband with its little compass, she cursed. It was too dark to see the thin needle, of course. She’d have to figure out which way to go without it.

  The light dimmed to nothing as Dime left the open port behind her. She concentrated on each turn, at first imagining where in the city she might be, and then just letting the downward slope guide her.

  After a few dozen times bumping her arms against the rough stonemix—how glad she was to have her work jacket on, though it must be torn now—she knew there was no way the winged pyrsi could keep pace with their heavy builds and large wings. Dime was a small pyr and she could barely fit through. Pace after pace, she shuffled through the endless tunnels, dotted only by periodic faint beams of light above.

  “Harm’s way,” she cursed, as she lost her balance at a sharp decline and a hint of Sol’s light wafted up the tunnel from its downward slope ahead. She started to slip, her boots sliding down the wet stone. As she fell back into a murky puddle by the ledge that smelled worse than if a public toilet had fallen into a public toilet and then died, she swore again before lifting herself to her feet. Dizzy at the steep incline before her, she carefully turned around, retracing her steps through the darkness until she saw a trace of light ahead.

  She hadn’t really thought this last part through, but surely Maintenance didn’t always rely on their ladders? Ladders could break, they could— Exhaling acidic air from her aching lungs, she ran her hands along the wall. Her fingers stuck into a wide crevice in the stonemix, and she found another above it. Rung by rung she pulled herself up to the top, just to find she could not open the heavy metal grate.

  “Hello!” she called. “Hello; a bit of trouble here?” So this is not me at my most covert. “Hello?”

  She paused, wondering how else she could get attention. She’d always been warned away from the low city, especially its outer rings, for the outlaws and wanderers said to live this close to the gulch. Hopefully there was one around. Her tired fingers started to shake, and it was like meeti
ng the light of Sol verself as the grate groaned and screeched its way over, helped by someone on the other side.

  Dime was surprised at the silence from above. She expected by now the whole city would be lit up with the network of storm sirens, warning pyrsi of danger.

  A narrow face peered down at her, moving back as Dime climbed through the opening, squinting at the light as she stood to face the pyr. “Ma’Kile,” he offered, extending both arms in front. She tried not to look at his hemsa, the tattoo across his forehead marking him as convicted of possessing tzetz. She despised the hemsa; stopping the practice had been her cause. She wanted to reach up to the large mark and touch it, as if her fingers held erasers. But that wasn’t how it worked.

  He made no note of her smell, or at least didn’t show that he had. She reached her own arms out graciously, linking with his to form the bridge. “Fe—” Dime started to introduce herself back, then hesitated. “Hello, Kile,” she offered. “It would be best if you didn’t mention this. Er, bad day. You know.”

  Embarrassed at her silly remarks but so tired she could barely even think and wanting to protect him from association with her, she pulled an unsigned paynote from a pouch, and handed it to him. She needed to go. “Thank you. Perhaps you can use that. For . . . my gratitude.”

  Leaving Kile behind and blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the high walls of the low city towering above her. As grand as she had felt in her lofty home with these huge walls little outlines below, she felt quite small at their base. Yet, urgency pumped in her veins, and she wouldn’t feel safe until she had reached a den. Hopefully one with a shower.

  Hugging the walls of the city, she moved slowly toward the spires of the Great Gates ahead. It was an obvious point of departure; a fairy could be waiting for her there. Yet, she wasn’t familiar enough with the side gates to risk not finding one in her current state. Truly, she felt as though she had about two blinks before falling asleep where she stood. The bells rang again, more distant sounding from here; she had been on the run now for a full bell. She didn’t think it could be two.

  This helped her next decision. Edging toward the main road, she got as close to the line of toothcars as she could. Noting a wide car pedaled by at least eight hired drivers—the type a high-class retiree would take to picnic outside of the city for claims of enjoying nature but mostly to show that xe could—she took her chance.

  Rolling from behind a parked toothcar to the side, she dove between the turning wheels. She flipped flat on her back and reached up to grasp the cold, metal frame, pushing her feet against a beam. The car heaved her up and down as it moved; she grew certain it would crush her into the gravel of the street. She heard voices from above, and hoped they weren’t inquiring about the smell.

  She closed her eyes, trying to stay her nausea. Her fingers grew numb as she forced herself to hold her grip against the metal. Lulled into a trance, she felt the road slope beneath her as it angled downward toward the gates. The car stopped; above her, the drivers answered questions and paid their tolls. Come on, she urged. The car lurched forward again, filling her ears with the grating rhythm of its massive, spike-like teeth.

  Worried that she couldn’t hold on for another stride, she flung herself out from underneath the vehicle, ignoring the shouts and calls of the lounging passengers as she bumped down a slow, scrub-covered hill. Hiding under the low branches of a wide bush, she watched the car stop, then pull away again. A sudden awareness of her exhaustion and thirst hit her, more than any relief of finally being alone. She needed to move on, find a source of water. Get to a den and recover.

  She scanned the skies. Dots in the distance hovered near the gates, and her heart dropped knowing she had come all this way and they were still in sight, looking for her. But—perhaps they hadn’t seen her. They must not have seen her, or they would be here now, surrounding her.

  Dime felt exposed among the dried-out branches; nightfall was still many bells away. She wasn’t going to sit in the bush and wither from thirst and be found anyway. Best to go. Keep moving. Until she was certain she could rest.

  She sat up, her head spinning. Having spent twenty-plus cycles never seeing a fairy, it should have been inconceivable that she was watching pyrsi fly like birds and was being chased by a—flock?—of them. And yet the main things on her mind were safety, water, and sleep.

  Third-tier schooling had felt a bit this way. One push, following another, following another, and all the time just wanting to rest. Yet just as she had graduated with the recommendation that had got a low-class pyr such as herself in the door at the Circles, she wasn’t about to give up now. Her stubborn side was kicking in, as it tended to do when things went wrong. And the fairies didn’t see her. She’d be fine.

  Dime had no map of the IC’s hidden dens with her, and she’d been stuck in the towers for quite a while now. She thought there was one this way, but still at a distance. She couldn’t run another step. She couldn’t even walk there, not without water or rest.

  Looking over at the road, she sighed. They don’t see me.

  She kept her body low, crawling back up the hill toward a small tunnel that cut through a rise in the rocks. Out in the plains or hills, the road would just wind over it, but this close to the city, pyrsi insisted on flat, straight roads. She waited until she saw a tiny toothcar, the sort for day rentals and lavished children, drive into the tunnel. The car looked old and didn’t bear a rental flag. Slipping into the tunnel, she popped into the driver’s view.

  “Excuse me, Burge,” she said, as he cranked to a stop. “I have an emergency and need a car to leave the city.” She almost flashed her Circles card—they’d forgotten to ask for it back—but she’d always disliked pyrsi using their position for their own gain, and even now, her well-being on the line, she couldn’t do it.

  Inside, the driver scrunched xyr face, and Dime remembered that she stunk. “Here. For borrowing the car.” She pulled out her last unsigned note, a large denomination she kept for emergencies. “Please,” she added. “I can’t say why, but it’s important.”

  The driver seemed at a loss for words, but after glancing at Dime’s forehead then registering the amount of the note, xe stepped out of the car. “If you give me your name,” Dime said, “I’ll pay you the rest when I return.”

  “It’s enough,” xe stammered, waving her away. “Go with Sol.”

  Dime didn’t wait to say more, hopping in and pedaling as carefully as she could, through the tunnel and away from the city. At first she stayed on the road, as there was a moderate size town this way, with frequent travel to and from the city. At a side road that she hoped wouldn’t draw attention, she veered off, trying to keep a steady pace and blend in.

  Her tired legs ached against the stiff action of the small car, but Dime couldn’t afford to stop. Her legs slowed anyway, finally resting on the pedals as her head slumped forward and the car jerked to a halt. There was no way she could continue. Pulses of exhaustion shot down each limb like an exaggerated heartbeat.

  No. She couldn’t stop here, in the middle of nowhere. She needed to hide. Her family needed her. She needed them. She pictured the fairy’s face as xe’d waved the glittering rope. A stabbing pain jolted through her and she began to push the pedals again. Foot after foot, she moved forward. Confused but grateful, she continued on.

  The toothcar had flimsy sheetwood panels rather than full doors, but they shielded her from view. Hopefully there were plenty of toothcars dotting the little roads of the plains, so the fairies could not know which to pursue.

  Unwilling to show herself by peering out for signs of them in the sky, she pedaled on, barely feeling the pedaling anymore as she focused solely on getting far away.

  She stayed on the roads until she was well out in the plains, where the roads were barely paths anyway. Only then did she turn off onto the open plain, trusting the relative steadiness of the rocky terrain, veine
d with gullies and dotted with lone clusters of dry trees. So dry, so flat, and so vast compared to Lodon. Yet, it was quiet. Free.

  Unsure how she was able to continue, Dime pushed on, her thoughts lulling her into some state of calm. She kept an eye on her wristband, letting the little needle, which always pointed sur, guide her to where she thought the closest den was hidden.

  Dime had never been fully comfortable with the dens where agents stayed while gathering Intel on the outlying villages; maybe it’s why she’d allowed them to move her back into the towers over the cycles. Problem was, she disliked her increasingly administrative tasks even more than the intrusive field work discomfited her—no, she didn’t work for the Circles anymore. The thought shocked her, as if it hadn’t been her idea in the first place.

  Sala had long preached that, to keep pyrsi prosperous and healthy, it was necessary to know what problems as well as resources existed throughout Sol’s Reach, even in these small villages that didn’t respond so graciously to what they saw as interference from the Circles. Sala saw it as proper Intelligence. Deterrence of crime. Knowledge of assets. Keeping order among pyrsi. In case. Always—in case.

  Now Dime worried that she’d passed the hidden den, not having seen the specific stack of rocks indicating an entrance. Not willing to double back, she remembered another in this direction, but it was much farther away.

  This den, where Dime had spent one awful rotation, was far out in the plains, and few pyrsi lived out here, away from the mountains and the comforts of the city. The towns were small and their inhabitants suspicious of strangers. She could see why; just the thought of being so close to the fairies sent shivers through her. Literal shivers, as that twitching in her back hadn’t quite subsided.

  What could fairies want with her? Fairies! She couldn’t believe she was even thinking it. She’d gone all these cycles doubting whether they were even real—whether there was truly life beyond the Great Cliff—and now here she was, pedaling away across the plains toward the end of Sol’s Reach. Frustrated, she accelerated, no longer even affected by the effort of her feet against the pedals.