Land of Masks and Moonlight (Glimpsing Stars, #2)

by S. K. Falls

  Shale pats him on the arm. “I know. I don’t doubt you at all.”

  There’s nothing left to do but face Elara and see what she wants with Ceres. Shale and I climb in the back, and Trigger shuts us in.

  After we’ve passed the checkpoint—this time no one opens the door of the trailer to look inside, and for this I am thankful—Shale attempts to distract her. He flicks on the flashlight Trigger left on the floor. “Hey, Ceres. Do you know people at the yez actually wear masks?” He laughs an easy laugh. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?” When she only smiles weakly in response, he points the flashlight at the trunk full of old clothes. “Take a look in there; you’ll see what I mean. You have to wear one tonight, too.”

  This seems to stir her interest. Holding on to the walls of the truck for balance, she begins to root through the trunk’s accoutrements. She picks up a gold-sequined mask and turns it over in her small hands. "Where...did these c-come...from?"

  "Ananke," I say. "She orders it from the black markets here. What did she pick for you tonight?"

  Ceres pulls out a puddle of green fabric. It's soft, I can tell even from this distance, and when Ceres turns it one way and then another, it changes from dark to light green depending on where the light hits it. The sleeves are short and made of black lace, and the mask wrapped up inside is made to match. Ceres strokes the dress fabric, her hand moving back and forth, keeping time, until it is time for us to get dressed.

  Ananke has again been kind enough to procure me a dress with a flared waist, giving my growing stomach more breathing room. Though it isn’t noticeable under my loose wool uniform, the tight fitting of the last dress gave away more than I would’ve liked. But this one is roomier; a soft gray with pearl buttons going down the back. It falls to just above my knees.

  As the truck trundles to a stop, I put on the silver mask that comes with it. When it is time, Shale and I step down from the truck, with Ceres close behind. Trigger touches Shale lightly on the arm. “I’ll be here in an hour.” His eyes move from Shale’s to mine—they are sincere, hopeful.

  We thank him and walk across the abandoned parking lot. We left the flashlight in the truck, and now all that illuminates our path is the starlight. I glance at Ceres between us, already protected. She is washed with silver, a beautiful masked stranger. In our old-fashioned clothes, we might be revelers from another century, off to a night of partying.

  Once we give the person at the door our password, we are allowed inside, amidst the writhing crowd, the throbbing music pulsing in our ears and chests. Ceres’s eyes widen behind her mask at all that is on display. I squeeze her upper arm and lean in so she can hear me over the din. “Keep your eyes on the floor. I’ll lead you to the back.”

  She obliges, though I catch her sneaking peeks at all the people in various states of intoxication. My shoes stick to the tacky floor—I try not to imagine what materials might have rendered it so—as we hurry to the velvet curtain and wooden door in the back.

  A man with a mustache we’ve never seen before holds a hand up to Shale. "Just the women past this point," he says.

  I nod slightly so Shale will know this is okay with me. He steps aside, his jaw hard. "I'll be right here."

  I reach out and squeeze his hand briefly. Then, Ceres and I make our way down the hallway. When the mustached man knocks on Elara's door, I hear her call for us to go in. He steps aside and lets us through.

  Elara looks up, resplendent in a tight-fitting black corset dress. A black mask studded with red rhinestones glitters under the lights. Ensconced in her room, away from the loud music and the sticky, muggy room at the front of the yez, she reminds me of a stately spider. She resides safely in the middle of her glistening web, waiting for people like me to wander in.

  It takes me a moment to realize there is another woman with her tonight. She wears a yellow dress to her calves and smiles from beneath her golden mask as she looks from me to Ceres.

  "Welcome!" Elara grins. "Thank you for bringing Ceres with you tonight."

  I’m momentarily taken aback by her jovial nature. "Yes...I've been wondering why you asked me to. Trigger seemed to not know." I keep my arm around my sister.

  "Please, sit." Elara is still smiling, and she gestures to the chair. "Here, would you both like some hot milk with honey while we speak?"

  Hot milk with honey, a treat we haven’t been able to get even here in China so far. Elara is being extremely kind. But why?

  Ceres's eyes light up just a bit and she looks to me. I nod slightly; we take our seats and the steaming mugs of milk Elara proffers. While we drink, the lady in yellow keeps her eyes on Ceres. They aren't malicious, I notice, simply observant.

  "This is Dr. Phoebe. She was a children’s doctor in New Amana, and I've brought her here tonight to look over Ceres."

  I stare at Elara and then look slowly to Phoebe, who smiles for a moment before sobering. "It is my understanding that Ceres was in an Asylum," she says. "It is essential that she has an examination. Just from looking at her, it seems to me that she is severely malnourished. And of course, there have probably been psychological repercussions as well. In any case, a thorough exam would do her good. Unfortunately, I can't do one as thorough as I'd like here, but we do have the facilities on the compound. Tonight, however, I'd like to do a cursory exam and speak with her, if she—and you—allow me."

  I shake my head in disbelief. Then I look at Ceres. "What do you think? Would you be willing to speak to a doctor?"

  Ceres still looks scared. "C-come...with m-me?"

  I look at Dr. Phoebe and she smiles again. "Of course your sister can come."

  Ceres clutches my hand, tight. "O-okay." Her voice is impossibly small.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  We are led into a room across from Elara's office. Dr. Phoebe has Ceres lie on the floor and she starts off by looking in her eyes and mouth. "Tooth decay," she says. "She might need to have some teeth pulled by a dentist before it becomes more of a problem." She continues the exam, but Ceres will not allow her to touch her breasts. Dr. Phoebe continues on as if there is nothing the matter, feeling around in Ceres's abdomen. She has her bend her knees, and she touches her feet and asks if Ceres can feel her doing so. Ceres nods, her face small and intent.

  Finally, Dr. Phoebe has her sit on a chair and she sits beside her. "How have you been doing since you were rescued? Are you sleeping well at night?"

  Ceres hesitates for a moment, but then she nods.

  "Have there been nightmares?" the doctor asks, her voice soft.

  Ceres nods again. I feel guilt clutching at my heart. I knew, of course, that Ceres has been having nightmares—she used to whimper almost every night on the ship. But I was under the impression she'd been too exhausted lately, that she’d been falling asleep quickly after all the physical labor in the fields. I realize now that it is probably just me who has been falling asleep while Ceres suffers her nightmares alone. I swallow to keep the tears at bay.

  "That's normal," Dr. Phoebe says. "If you can, talking about it with your sister might help. Or someone else you trust. It can help to say those things out loud instead of keeping them all inside."

  They continue to talk, and, as I watch in wonder, Ceres begins to unfurl. She gets more animated as she speaks, telling the doctor things about the Asylum I have never heard before. “There w-was...a guard,” she says softly, her eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on the floor. “H-he wasn’t n-nice.”

  My blood boils and I want to demand to know his name and everything he did. But Dr. Phoebe is much gentler. She nods sympathetically and says, “It sounds like it must have been terrifying. Especially since you had no one to protect you.”

  Ceres nods, her chin trembling.

  “But you’re safe now. You have your sister, who loves you more than anything in the world. Isn’t that right?”

  And Ceres looks up, a small smile on her face. She nods again and speaks of being home with me and Shale and the baby. She speaks of how mu
ch she's looking forward to the birth of her niece or nephew.

  As I watch them, my heart begins to get heavier and heavier, until I feel I cannot bear its weight in my chest anymore. I can see quite clearly that if Ceres continues to speak with Dr. Phoebe, she will get better. The doctor has something I don't; she is able to reach my sister in one meeting in a way I couldn't over several weeks and with all our history.

  Dr. Phoebe turns to me when there is a lull in their conversation. “Why was Ceres taken to the Asylum?”

  “She had fits. Her eyes would roll back in her head. She’d stare off into space, make smacking sounds.”

  She nods. “Sounds like epilepsy. Has she had any episodes since you’ve been reunited?”

  “No, thank goodness.”

  “They have medication available for epilepsy, should Ceres need it. But it sometimes resolves itself; perhaps that is what hers has done. In any case, it’s vital that you live somewhere she can get adequate care, especially to deal with unresolved psychological trauma from her years at the Asylum.” She smiles kindly at Ceres. “Sometimes stress can bring on these episodes, so it’s important she has a safe place to talk about these things.”

  I nod, my mind going in a million different directions. Dr. Phoebe continues, "I can do an exam on you as well if you'd like. They have much more sophisticated equipment at the compound, as well as an obstetrician. But I'm able to check quickly for anything obviously wrong."

  I let her feel my abdomen, and she uses a measuring tape to measure my stomach. "It seems you're measuring ahead for just nine weeks. How have you been feeling?"

  "Tired. But well."

  She nods. "Might just be you’re carrying a big baby. It's important you get your vitamins and folic acid. We can provide you with that on the compound as well." It seems she expects me to be staying at the compound. What has Elara told her?

  Finally, she gets up and I do, too. "Shall we go back in to Elara's room?"

  Elara smiles when she sees us enter. "Thank you, Phoebe."

  The doctor nods and leaves.

  Ceres and I take a seat.

  "Thank you," I say softly. "I asked at the compound about getting her a doctor, but..."

  "It's only for emergencies when it comes to immigrants, and sometimes not even then." Elara takes a drink and then looks at me. "I know what it's like, to have a baby you love more than anything. To want to protect your family and make sure they’re safe."

  I glance at Ceres. She does not know about Elara's offer and I don't want to tell her. Elara sees my gaze and smiles at my sister. "Would you mind waiting with Shale while I speak to your sister?"

  Ceres squeezes my hand and then leaves.

  I sit back, playing with the string on my mask as my eyes fill and overflow, fill and overflow. If I say the words, I feel my heart will break. It is already like a shard of glass, a splinter, a knife in my chest.

  "I can see you're torn," Elara says. "But it's easy, isn't it, if you think only of your family?"

  She is asking me to be selfless. I know she is right. I must be selfless for Ceres and for the baby. But when I think of Shale, of those brown eyes, of his smile, I wonder what would be the point of living at all if I didn't get to see him.

  There is an edge of impatience to Elara's voice when she speaks again, a full minute later. "What is your answer?"

  I look up. Through the haze of my tears it seems there are three of her. I blink until she is two, then one. "Yes." My voice breaks. "Yes. I'll go with you."

  Elara walks forward, her lips curled upward in a smile. Against the dark crimson of her lips, her teeth are sparkling pearls. She reaches her hand out to me and I stand. We are mere inches apart. I think she is quite beautiful. I think she is revolting. She puts her face close to mine; I smell sweet wine on her breath. The red rhinestones are nothing but plastic, I see from so close.

  "You've made the right decision," she says. "Your baby thanks you." She puts her hand on my stomach. The baby flutters. She laughs.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  I make my way back out into the hallway, my legs like rubber. I keep my hand on the wall so I won't stumble. The faint thump of the music out in the yez barely permeates here, into the deep recesses of the building. I wonder faintly about insulation in the walls keeping out the sound—only to keep from thinking about what I have just said. What I have just done. What wheels have I set in motion? What now? What is to become of Shale, of me, of us? What is to become of the words he said to me just last night: I love you? Are they to just dissipate into the air, like steam shimmering into nothingness? I shuffle forward, bit by bit, toward the curtain and the doorway that will lead me back into the yez. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to admit this is reality.

  At first I think the sound I'm hearing is my imagination, but then I realize it's coming from down the hallway, in the opposite direction of the yez. It's a husky sort of crooning and, as I turn to make my way toward it, I realize it is someone singing in Chinese. The door on my left is open just a crack; I push it open wider. Inside, in a small lamp-lit room, is the older woman I'd spoken to last week, the one who’d claimed to see a life within me. She is sitting on the floor, surrounded by books.

  She looks up when I enter and smiles; her lips are painted a bright, vivid red. The skirt of her blue dress is pooled on the floor around her legs. It gives her an ethereal quality, as if she is a mystical creature rising from the ocean. "Míngqín. Did my song draw you?"

  “Yes.”

  "Come in." She waves me forward and a big ring on her finger twinkles. "Close the door."

  I do. When I turn around, I take a closer look at her books. They are old and yellowed, but their covers are colorful and bright, pictures of women in clothes I have heard people speak about from the time before the War. Some have pictures of flowers or dogs, others have pictures of buildings. The array is dizzying. "What are you doing?"

  She caresses the page like it's her lover. "Reading."

  I stare at her. Reading? In New Amana, reading served only an educational purpose. In my grandmother's time, it used to be a recreation. This woman, older than my mother but not quite old enough to be my grandmother, clearly uses it for the latter. "You read in English?”

  She laughs, the sound throaty and rich. “Yes. The Chinese have been speaking English for decades, since before the War of the Nations. It’s trickled through generations. I always had a knack for languages myself, and I’ve been able to hone it working with New Amanians.”

  I don’t ask her what work she does; I have an innate sense that it is something illegal, something I shouldn’t know about. Something about this woman—her loud laugh, the way she approached me so carelessly though I am New Amanian and she is Chinese—speaks to a deep-seated defiance of authority. “Where did you get them all?"

  "The black market," she responds. "I get the drink and the drugs for this place, and Elara is kind enough to look the other way when I get myself the occasional book."

  I hadn't even realized that the black market here sold old books. I point to one with a drawing of a girl with yellow hair and a white rabbit on the cover. "Is that a children's book?" The idea is so foreign to me. What could a book talk about that a child would be interested in? That her mother or teachers couldn't tell her?

  "Alice in Wonderland." The old woman holds the book out to me. After a pause, I go to sit by her and take the book. I flip it open, the musty smell of the yellowing pages making my nose tingle. I read the words on the first page. "It's fantasy. The author wrote it for a friend of his, a child."

  "Alice in Wonderland." The words feel like I'm speaking a foreign language. "What is 'Wonderland'? Was it a city from before the War?"

  "No." The woman smiles. "Why don't you read it? It's one of my favorites."

  I turn the book over in my hands. Maybe I can read it to the baby. The thought is dark, delicious because it is forbidden. I wonder if Elara will object, if I will be able to keep it from her. I realize I have no idea what my
life will be like on her compound. I think about how I’d once promised to teach Shale to read, that I haven’t yet had a chance. Then I push the thought from my mind. "Thank you." Suddenly, having this book feels important, vital. "What is your name?"

  "They call me the Madam."

  I frown. "Why do they call you that?" Madam means boss, does it not? It’s what we’re told to call the Monitors.

  "I supply them with men and women for their pleasure. Not to mention the best quality drugs and drink. Anything they want, really. Everything is for sale or barter here." Her eyes are serious, assessing. She is wondering if I will run away, disgusted. Hedonism is looked down on everywhere; it doesn’t matter that we are in China.

  I nod. "But what is your name, really? What did your mother name you?"

  She smiles. "Marisa."

  Surprised, I ask, “Marisa? Isn’t that a Western name?”

  She laughs that throaty chuckle. “Yes. I got it from a book. But it’s my name at this yez, in this part of my life. I imagine you have a new one, too.”

  So she knows about the Rad fugitives. Elara must trust her quite a lot. I smile. "Yes. I’m Kalliope. It's nice to meet you, Marisa." I stand. "I must go now."

  "Come back and see me," Marisa says. "And I'll give you another book."

  "Okay. I'd like that." I retreat from the room, my heart and mind somewhat quieter, if only for the moment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  I slip Alice in Wonderland under my dress, into the waistband of my underwear. It is a small book, easily concealed. Then, reality comes crashing down. My heart begins its frenzied palpitations. Now I have to make my way back to Shale and Ceres; I must tell them what I have done.

  They are outside the yez in the small entry room. Shale looks up at me. Something he sees in my face has him anxiously searching my eyes, but I keep my gaze averted. I cannot tell him yet. Coward.