Diamondsong 01: Escape

by E. D. E. Bell

  Ella shrugged. “It’s complicated. Ill-meaning pyrsi may enlist confused youth to act on their behalf. Or one can refer to some ‘report’ that you were there, rather than admit they saw you first-hand. Yet that’s rare; there’s no one going to or through the Crossing who has any incentive to talk about it.

  “And remember, none of that matters anyway. If the Circles choose to make your life difficult, they can do so without revealing the real reason why.”

  That’s true. Dime was getting annoyed at herself for continuing to act so naïve—she resolved to stop doing it. The last few turns had just been so odd; Dime needed to pull her banners back together.

  “Your precious Circles are not the heroes they claim to be.” Ella grunted.

  Now, this is enough.

  “Hey. I quit, remember.” Dime felt a little satisfaction saying it.

  “So you quit,” Ella snapped. “Did you change anything?”

  That was really too far. Dime was tired of this insinuation that by leaving, she was giving up, especially from some stranger. She had been pounding her figurative fists against the gnarled door of reason for as long as she’d been in any position to do so, and she was tired of hearing that she was somehow the problem, and not the others who promoted traditions they knew fostered inequity and even danger. You know, maybe she was as mad as the fe’pyr beside her. Maybe she should be.

  “Did you?” Dime retorted.

  “So that does make The Crossing more dangerous,” Ella continued on as if not hearing her, “in the sense that untrustworthy behaviors sometimes pass without consequence.”

  The diversion was so obvious, Dime couldn’t even stay annoyed.

  “And your case is . . . unique. Until we know who is interested in you, we’ll need to keep your identity concealed. I hate having to go through the place at all,” Ella gestured to Dime’s leg, “but you’re in no shape to swim or scale cliffs—”

  “And I gave our food away,” Dime added.

  “See, and I was trying to be polite. Anyway, won’t be the first risky thing I’ve done.” Ella nodded at Dime. “Nor you.”

  The Crossing. A place where Fo-ror and Ja-lal apparently, what, visit? Dime felt frustrated by each new revelation, as if she hadn’t been a senior Intel official. Yet, for all her knowledge and insight and cycles of studying, she was now in a world strictly out of bounds to her and her pyrsi. Except, not? Ugh.

  She wished Ador were here; she would have a lot to ask him. She felt a pang, remembering she was a real pyr with real friends. She missed Ador.

  More, she missed Dayn. She imagined the warmth of holding each other’s arms again, the feel of their cheeks, brushing.

  Dayn must be worried, but she knew Ador would be there for him. One comforting thought.

  They rested twice, though briefly; without food and with almost no water left, they needed to press. At each stop, Ella reset Dime’s bandage on her arm with clean cloth and fresh balm. “I’ve always been slow to heal,” Dime said, feeling bad that her injuries continued to slow their progress. “Everyone’s had advice for me on it, that it’s my diet or my rest or my hobbies. Gets old.”

  “It’s none of those,” Ella murmured, but when Dime tried to ask her more, Ella gathered their belongings and started out again, leaving Dime grumbling and scrambling to catch up.

  Her ankle ached, and Dime worried that she’d already pushed it too far, but Ella hastened her steps now, her eyes focused ahead on reaching this Crossing, to return to Sol’s Reach. Dime grew increasingly certain that Ella was hiding something from her. Before this was over, Dime would find out. For now, though, she accepted the need to stay focused on their first goal: the Crossing.

  “Is that it?” Dime asked, as a low cliff came into view. It was nothing like the towering force of nature she’d imagined and had apparently tumbled over, just a low cliff with a pass worn through it. More like a hill. The Great Hill, she joked to herself.

  She stared up at the ridge ahead. It would still be a long journey to Lodon, but the idea that home, any part of home, was past that ridge brought her a wave of comfort. She refused a few tears that tried to form. First she had to make it through this place, whose risk to her she was certain Ella understated.

  There were no signs or boutiques, but a path started to form, leading toward the pass. Dime’s breathing grew heavy as the path turned steeply uphill. Ella stopped and pulled a few items out of her bulging side pouches. First, she handed Dime a hood. Dime gasped, and involuntarily shook her head. Meanwhile, Ella wrapped her scarf over and around her own.

  “No righteous Circles talk here. This is a different place, outside their control. Here, you mind your own business.”

  “We’ll have to draw suspicion with these.”

  “Sure!” Ella said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Let’s not draw suspicion! If you want, you can just stroll through on your wounded leg with your big, viney tats and hope your assailants didn’t leave a scout, just in case you survived Dime’s Big Adventure.”

  Hmpf. “Point taken.” Yet, she was not prepared when Ella reached forward with an art stick and started sketching on her forehead. It didn’t take long to surmise that Ella was giving her a large hemsa, to peek out from the front of her hood. It would be revealed as surface ink upon inspection, but maybe from a distance it would do. “Do I at least get to know which one?”

  “Maybe better that you don’t,” Ella said with a chuckle. “But I have simply noted that you are most definitely not in favor of the Light.” She paused. “I thought about adding volume under your cloak, to imply you were Fo-ror. A Ja-lal and Fo-ror traveling together would be least likely to be approached for fear of any association. But your tattoos—” Ella traced the air over the vines reaching out onto Dime’s face. “They mark you. As they mark me also. I can’t just scribble them all over.”

  Dime had been so distracted by the fairies’ hair she had not fully considered that they did not wear tattoos. It must be so hard to describe pyrsi there.

  “So, a couple of suspicious Ja-lal we will be,” Ella finished.

  Dime laughed. Ella looked away.

  “Still,” Ella said, “keep your head low, don’t draw attention, and let me do the talking. Oh, and do you have any notes? There have to be paynotes in that jacket. Never met anyone with the Circles that didn’t carry a wad.”

  “Just signed,” Dime said, letting the remark pass as she slipped on the hood. “I used all my unsigned notes to get away.” Dime tended to sign her paynotes, preferring security to anonymity.

  “Pfffft. We can’t have that,” Ella said. “It’s fine. I have enough. Buy me a ferm sometime. Or clean the drains on my tower. I do not like getting on that ladder. Suzanne,” she grumbled, shaking a hand toward Sol.

  Dime chuckled but not for long as they trudged up the final hill, quite a lot steeper than the previous one. “Anyone sell toothcars here? We could use a ride.”

  “They do,” Ella said. “Which apparently I need to buy. And no more talking; your accent is a trail mix of low and high class. It would be a signature for anyone searching for you.”

  Dime had a lot of comments to that, but she pressed her mouth shut. Ahead, the path opened into what looked like a basin. The rocks rose stiffly to eas and wes, framed by large piles of boulders. A few were roughly carved in spirit-like shapes, though Dime wasn’t sure if it was art or just someone with extra time.

  Within the basin, an oversize toothcar was hooked to a wide cart filled with crates. Several tents were spread across the area, their openings flapping in a dusty wind that caused Dime to raise a sleeve over her mouth. Crates, sheds, and machines sat in the distance, and burnt oil fumes wafted by.

  There were fairies here, as well as Ja-lal. “Would the fairies take our paynotes?” she whispered. “Theirs must be different.” Dime could not take her eyes from a fairy’s flapping set of wings in the
distance.

  “Oh, it’s all different. The Fo-ror don’t have currency. Paynotes are dishonorable. Provisions are allocated based on ‘need.’ A Fo-ror is best respected when xe gives to others, and I mean, isn’t that nice. Yet, honor has its loopholes. Currency is forbidden, but barter is just two pyrsi giving gifts. Also, it’s hard to track.

  “We’ll want to find a Ja-lal. Looking as we do, the Fo-ror won’t approach us here anyway. Unless we approach them. Which, at this moment, I don’t intend to do. Now, quiet, please. They’ll be listening.”

  Dime found the haphazard layout of the Crossing unsettling; it was comprised mostly of battered tents that looked like they could be whisked away on short notice. There were only a few partially permanent structures, and those bore no windows, just thin notches to let in light or allow a pyr to peer outward. Everything felt uncertain, out of place. Nothing looked arranged, or even built out from the basin’s center. Everything looked as if it’d just been set down there for a moment.

  And fairies. Walking around, even flying. Their big, iridescent wings were as awestriking as she remembered. No, more so—they were colors and art and motion. Each muscular body flew with such ease, tassels and locks of hair swaying behind them.

  She shouldn’t be here. They needed to go. Dime wished they could just keep their heads down and zip on through. But she was so hungry now she could barely stand it, her leg was so sore she could barely walk, and it wouldn’t be much longer until night fell again.

  Once they crossed through, they could stop in a village for supplies, but it was clear Ella felt safer in this place-that-did-not-exist than one of the outlying villages. Besides, Dime was not as familiar with the wesside of the plains, so they’d have to search for a town.

  The plains. At least she was back to Sol’s Reach. Just a few steps away.

  Her heart ached for her home.

  Trying not to cough from the dust blowing through the basin, Dime kept her head low as they walked through. Despite being a place where pyrsi didn’t want to be noticed, they sure made it a certainty to notice others. Dime could feel every gaze, every assessment from within the tents and block structures as she walked past. Hidden eyes, all affixed to her.

  “Looking for food, not trouble,” Ella called, in a voice unlike her own. “Also a car for two. Unsigned paynotes; not forged. Tips for brevity.” A pyr’s bare gray arm waved from a tent flap next to a low block wall. “Don’t move,” Ella warned Dime. “And above all, keep your necklace hidden. Holy Sol.” Ella muttered something else as she walked toward the patched tent.

  Fighting the urge to reach for it, Dime felt her pendant, where she normally kept it, nestled under her shirt. Ella was already a small figure in the distance. She felt self-conscious standing in the wind with her hood and cloak blowing around her. Yet, with whatever fake hemsa Ella had given her, she realized she shouldn’t be so self-conscious. Angry, perhaps. Defiant. What would an outlaw do here? An outlaw that had been ordered to wait, anyway.

  She set her stance and turned slowly, as though she were looking to see who was there, as if she could see into each structure through its canvas, blocks, or boards. Several pyrsi looked away or closed the flaps of their tents. Above, a dark shape came into view, and the fairy—or Fo-ror she supposed she should say—landed near her with a small cloud of dust. Dime tensed but tried not to show any surprise.

  “Gift for the bladetrader,” xe called. Ignoring Dime, the fairy walked over to the steps of a large building. Another pyr, without wings, opened the door and they both disappeared behind it.

  Other than the transacting of business, it was quiet. Pyrsi sat. And stared. Or hid behind their walls. Dime was relieved as a take passed and no one approached her. If this was the one crossing between the lands, it would seem her pursuers would monitor it for her return.

  Except, then, the fairies may indeed think she was dead. As Ella said, she needed to get home and stay out of view. Once someone recognized her, she couldn’t be sure word wouldn’t spread to the fairies. Now that she knew there was a whole town of mingling and news. Her head almost shook in disbelief, but she held still.

  There were options to consider—once she got out of here. She wasn’t going to live her life in hiding; that was for sure.

  Dime was starting to feel she wasn’t exuding much toughness standing in the path, and she worried about drawing attention. She doubted pyrsi loitered in the streets here. Pulling her utility knife from her jacket, she turned it in the air—not quite flipping it, but rolling it in her fingers pretty well, she thought with pride. It was a habit she had picked up during bored turns in the field, but, hey, maybe it looked like a criminal thing to do.

  “Put that away!” Ella hissed, hustling toward her on the path. “We need to go now. I have what we need, but I dodged a few of their questions and they know it, so we can’t risk any more contact. Now, over here.”

  Behind a wall, Ella led her to a dual-pedal toothcar with a huge dent in the roof, tossing a large bag into the back bin. Dime slid her walking stick into the back of the rough-looking car, which reeked of cheap gear grease. “How old is this?”

  “You wanna go buy one? With your signed note? Maybe hire us a couple of pedalers while you’re at it?”

  “Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” Dime conceded. “But I can’t wait to take this hood off; it feels so shady.”

  “It is shady. And not until we’re out of sight. Now, rest your bad ankle there. You half-pedal with the other foot, I’ll pedal with these beauties, and we’ll make it work. Also, yes, this is a piece of junk. And I despise driving.”

  Dime laughed to herself as she did her best to pedal with one foot. The laughter turned quickly to pained grumbling, as it turned out that one-foot pedaling was much more difficult than two. Instead of relying on the motion of the gears, Dime had to constantly raise and lower her foot, kicking the narrow footrest rather than pedaling it.

  The imbalanced teeth clanked and ground against the dry rocks as Ella switched the gears, and they cranked away from the Crossing. “Here,” Ella said, handing her a bunch of longfruit and a hunk of stale bread, which Dime chomped into immediately. “Not too fast,” she warned. “You haven’t eaten anything proper in turns; your gut will punish you for rushing.”

  “I’m naw a ba’pyr,” Dime mumbled through a bite of bread.

  They waited until it was dark to stop and take another rest. Exhausted and now with both feet sore, Dime ate her meal cold, found a flat enough patch of ground, and fell right to sleep.

  As they pedaled on across the open plains, Dime was glad for the darkness. With the shapes of plateaus and gullies around them, she hoped one small toothcar would be hard to spot from a distance.

  She couldn’t shake the image of bands of fairies sweeping the land, closing in and tying her with ropes. Unless they could see in the dark. She had heard of that with some animals; the newts clearly could.

  “Ella, can they see in the dark?”

  “What? Who? What are you going on about? Oh, Fo-ror.” Ella grunted. “They see as well as you do, which is better than me. But no, if you mean as well as the newts, not like that. The newts’ vision is exceptional, day or night.”

  Between the old car, their tired state, and Dime’s injuries, they moved along slowly. She’d pedaled all the way to the cliff from Lodon almost in a trance, but now, she felt every bump and muscle ache.

  While Dime hadn’t seen any signs of the fairies or any active pursuit, Ella didn’t want to risk more exposure than needed. Dime agreed. And so, while slow, they kept as steady a pace as they could, resting frequently but not for long each time. It was a measure faster than walking, Dime reminded herself. And it was a nice night, with clear skies and gentle breezes.

  “I don’t sleep much at night,” Dime mentioned, making conversation as they rode between a series of plateaus. “I find night peaceful and I prefer to enjoy it. My Circlema
tes joked that I was lazy, but no one worked harder than me during the day, so I tried not to worry about it. Sorry,” she added, looking at Ella. “I’m saying random things.”

  “The Fo-ror see night this way,” Ella said with some hesitation. “They catch up on their work during the daylight bells, then enjoy their families and friends or their own hobbies at night, as it can be deeply dark in the depths of the forest, where the trees shield the nightlight.

  “Their schedules are more patterned around each other, not as free-form as you’re used to in Lodon. The Ja-lal, with the open nightlight and a lamp in every room, design their schedules with less regard to night and day. Or to each other.”

  “It’s true,” Dime agreed. “I have friends that sleep every several bells, and others who go long stretches without rest then long stretches with. Depends what you do, of course. And what appointments you keep. I sleep regularly enough, but I reserve things I like to do for when it’s dark.”

  Ella did not object when, while they rested by a small pond, Dime scrubbed the artificial hemsa from her forehead. It could only cause alarm in Sol’s Reach, and without the hood, her other markings would identify her to anyone looking.

  As they traveled, ate, and rested in pattern, Dime recognized the landscape. With the expanses of the beaches and grassy hills well behind them, the plains and plateaus of her homeland were rocky and dry. Clear roads now separated large elevations of rock, and Dime could see lamps shining from villages in the background.

  “This old car will draw attention,” Ella said as the lights of one village drew closer. “They’ll think we time-traveled. Let’s sell it and walk the last stretch to Lodon.”

  Dime waited in the shadows, her hood now packed into Ella’s pouch, as a pyr came out and inspected the vehicle. Papers changed hands, and Ella hurried away.

  “Sold it for a tenth of what I paid for it, but such is business at the Crossing,” Ella grumbled. “At least you owe me a ferm over it. Just glad he took it, really; the whole pile of junk reeked of disreputation. Also, I didn’t want him to start to remember where he had heard of my tattoos.” Ella paused. “And, sorry, you were right. What a poop car. I couldn’t stand it another stride.”