Shattering the Ley

by Joshua Palmatier

  Allan grimaced. “Only the shirt and breeches. I . . . I don’t have anything that looks better.”

  Something passed through her eyes and the frown faded. She glanced around at the square, already beginning to grow crowded as people emerged from hiding from the storm. “So what did you have planned?”

  Allan allowed himself to relax and smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

  They broke away from the fountain, crossing the square and entering the maze of streets, bridges, and canals that wound through the district, the twists and turns of the pathways as illogical and random as a true labyrinth. Elongated boats drifted through the canals, carrying a few passengers from location to location, but most of the residents of the Canal District preferred traveling by foot. There were some shops, taverns, and cafés that could only be reached by boat. The deepest section contained no wagons or ley carts, the paths too narrow. They fell into an easy chatter, Allan pointing out flowers and trinkets in the shops they passed, buying a small chunk of cheese from an elderly woman with a hand-drawn cart, sharing it with Moira.

  One walkway emerged onto a landing where a boat waited, tied to a tall pillar of wood carved and painted in vivid yellows and reds. A man who leaned against the pillar pushed away when he saw them, catching Allan’s eye. As they approached, he motioned dramatically toward the boat and said, “I have been waiting all day for you, my lady,” with too broad of a smile.

  Moira glanced back at Allan, who grinned. “You can’t be serious,” she said.

  “Oh, but I am.”

  She stared at him, mouth open as if to protest, then shrugged and stepped into the boat. The man held it steady for her, then for Allan, and when they were situated, climbed into the back after untying from the pillar. Using a long pole, he pushed them away from the stone walkway and into the canal.

  “He wasn’t lying, was he?” Moira asked. “He was waiting for us. You hired him.”

  “Yes.”

  “So our random walk wasn’t that random after all.”

  “No.”

  Allan wasn’t certain how she’d react, felt his chest loosen when she finally shook her head and laughed. She turned away, to look at the passing houses that butted up against the canal. The windows and balconies were done in an older style, one more suited to when the canals had been used for serious trade. Now the canals were considered quaint, and the docks and wharfs that had been the foundation of the river trade—districts like Eastend and Leeds—had fallen into squalor.

  Allan watched Moira closely, could tell that she wanted to ask where they were going in the slight tension in her shoulders. But then she forced herself to relax with a sigh, leaning over the edge of the boat to trail her hands in the water.

  It was the first time he’d ever seen her completely calm. At the party, in the Amber Tower, even in the gardens, an aura of wariness surrounded her, as if she were constantly waiting for a harsh word or the back of a hand. He recalled the lord at the party swearing at her when she’d dropped the crate of candles, and realized she’d grown used to defending herself against such abuse.

  Allan let his own sigh escape slowly and joined her, so they were side by side. He heard the man shifting position to compensate behind them, but didn’t turn.

  “Look,” she said, after a long, comfortable moment of silence, interrupted only by the splash as the man poled them along. “A fish!”

  Allan glanced into the murky water and nodded. “Looks like a trout. Why are you surprised by fish in the canal? There are fish in the pools and fountains around the Amber Tower.”

  Moira scoffed. “Those are ornamental. They’re small and colorful, there to please the lords and ladies and the other guests of the Baron. This . . . this is just a fish. It isn’t pretty, and it’s big. The biggest fish I’ve ever seen.”

  She glanced up and caught Allan trying not to laugh. He flinched as she slapped him on his shoulder, holding up a hand to fend her off. “What?” he said, as the boat rocked.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Haven’t you ever been down to the river?”

  “The rivers are too cloudy and dirty. And I’ve never been outside of Erenthrall.” She sniffed. “I suppose you have?”

  “I grew up in Canter, remember? It’s . . . nothing like Erenthrall. I’ve seen trout practically every day my entire life, in the streams that run through the hills surrounding the town. It’s Erenthrall that’s bizarre, with its fish kept in ponds simply to be looked at, never to be eaten.”

  He shifted under Moira’s sudden intense scrutiny, prickles of embarrassment crawling across the back of his neck.

  “Maybe that’s why you’re so different,” Moira finally said, voice soft, as if she spoke to herself.

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned back to the water, troubled, the trout long gone. “I told the other servants about you, after we met at the sowing of the tower. They warned me away. They said you were a Dog, that nothing good ever came of speaking to, let along seeing, a Dog. I told them you were different, but they just laughed. Half of them expect me to return to work tomorrow with a bruise on my face.”

  Allan said nothing at first, let the shock sink in, even as he realized that he shouldn’t be shocked. Not after what he’d seen the Dogs do over the past few months.

  Then he reached forward and brushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, caught and held her startled gaze, and said, “I would never strike you. I told you, I’m not like the other Dogs.”

  Moira held her breath, then murmured, “I believe you.”

  Allan let his hand drop and turned back to the water. Moira did the same, but edged closer to him.

  A moment later, the boat scraped up against a stone dock with another of the pillars of carved wood, this one painted yellow and blue.

  “We have arrived, my lord and lady.”

  Moira rolled her eyes, but stood and allowed Allan to help her off the boat. The man winked at him as he disembarked. Allan slipped him a few errens in payment.

  “Which way?” Moira asked. The path ran parallel to the canal, steps leading up to the right.

  “Up the steps. There’s a café where we can eat, but I want to show you something else first.”

  He led her up the stairs, ignoring the numerous paths, landings, and alcoves that branched off from them as they wound around the buildings on either side. He paused to show her the café, small enough it could only hold ten patrons inside, the rest outside on a scattering of tables and chairs in an open space not even large enough to be called a square. Then they continued, climbing higher and higher, until he ducked through an archway, drew her up a last flight of worn stone steps, and they emerged onto the roof of a truncated tower.

  Moira gasped, moving immediately to the crenellated edge, placing her hands on the stone for support as she leaned out to take in the view. The city gleamed around them on all sides, sunlight glancing off of white stone buildings and the occasional fountain or pool of water. People, carts, and wagons moved on the streets in a steady stream, and barges plied the rivers and the ley lines. The noise of the city rose around them, merging into a wash of sound without component parts, while overhead the blue skies were streaked with white clouds, the storm far to the south. Slightly north of east, the towers of Grass rose like spikes into the sky, and on all sides the new subtowers glowed a faint white, subdued by the brightness of the sun. A light breeze played with Moira’s hair and the folds of her dress.

  She breathed in deeply and exhaled. “How did you find this place?”

  Allan shrugged, suddenly aware of the time. They’d spent longer on the boat than he’d intended. “One of the other Dogs knew of it. He told me how to find it. You can only reach this part of the Canal District by boat.”

  He let her revel in the breeze and the sights and smells of the
city until she turned back toward him, then said reluctantly, “We should go eat. It’s getting late, and—”

  “We both have to report to the Amber Tower,” she finished for him. Her shoulders slumped, but she stepped toward him and took his hand. “But we can always come back later.”

  Allan grinned. “We will.”

  “Look!” Cory exclaimed, pointing out over the edge of the roof of their apartment building where they lay on their stomachs, staring out toward Grass, even though they couldn’t see any of the activity beneath the main towers, only the towers themselves.

  Excitement thrumming through Kara’s skin—and a building energy prickling at the back of her neck—she squirmed farther forward. “What? What did you see? I don’t see anything.”

  “The lights in the Amber Tower just came on, near the top.”

  Kara rolled her eyes, but said, “That must be the main ballroom. My mother said many of the lords and ladies will be there, although anyone with influence will be in Seeley Park below the new tower.”

  “Is that where your mother will be working?”

  “No, she’s not working today. She’s coming with us to the park. She’s supposed to work afterward, though.” But Kara didn’t care. Her mother would be with them for the main event, the activation of the tower. Everyone would be there—her parents, Cory, his family, the Tender Ischua. The only one who’d be missing would be Justin.

  She frowned, her gaze dropping to the throng of people already heading toward Grass in the streets around their building. It had been over two weeks since Justin had vanished and still no one knew anything. No one even seemed to be looking anymore.

  “You’re thinking of Justin again, aren’t you?”

  Kara gave a guilty start, although she wasn’t certain why. “How did you know?”

  Cory pushed up, sitting cross-legged. “You get this worried, distant look, your eyes all squinched up and tight.” He hung his head, hands twisting in the ties of his shoes. “It wasn’t your fault. Or mine.”

  Kara shoved herself up and faced Cory. “We should have believed him when he said someone was watching him. We should have said something then.”

  “I never saw anyone.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “I thought he was just being . . . you know . . . Justin.”

  Kara sighed and looked back toward the towers of Grass. “I know. So did I. But we should have trusted him. We should have searched for him longer, harder.”

  “We did search for him. We’ve been doing nothing else for the past two weeks outside of school.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment. And then Cory said, “Kara?”

  She turned, something in Cory’s voice clutching at the base of her throat, making it hard to breathe. Since she’d told him of Ischua and the test in Halliel’s Park, he’d been distant, like her own parents, anger simmering beneath the surface. But in the last week that had faded, until it was almost like it had been before. But she heard that distance between them in his voice now.

  He met her gaze, his eyes huge. She saw fear there, a strange vulnerability, and buried deep beneath that apprehension, but no anger.

  Cory swallowed once, then said, “I don’t want you to go.”

  She knew he was talking about the test and the Wielders, still years away, but before she could say anything, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

  Heat burned up from Kara’s chest and she felt her neck and ears prickling, knew she was flushed a deep red, that her eyes were wide. She knew she should say something, but her throat had locked, her entire body paralyzed.

  Cory had ducked his head down with a choked sob, but he suddenly looked back up, his own face bright red and filled with terror. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and then bolted for the door and stairwell down to their apartments.

  “Cory, wait!” She wrenched herself up and ran after him. He’d already vanished down the stairs, and when she reached the door, she plowed into her father coming up from below.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, catching her and holding her close, shushing her. She struggled at first, not certain why she was crying, but after a moment she buried her face in her father’s shirt and clutched him tight.

  A moment later, he pushed her back, gently, and knelt down before her. “Hush, Kara. What happened? What’s wrong?”

  Kara felt the blush returning and scrubbed at her tear-streaked face with the crook of her arm. “Nothing. Cory doesn’t want me to leave.”

  Her father chuckled and brushed the hair from her forehead. “None of us want you to leave, Kara.” His eyes narrowed as her blush deepened, the skin where Cory had kissed her throbbing . . . but then he suddenly relaxed, a smile turning the corners of his mouth, as if he knew what had happened even though she hadn’t said anything. He stood and herded her down the stairs to their loft. “Everything will be fine, Kara. We still have time, a few years at least. Ischua has assured me of this. In the meantime, your mother is waiting with Ischua downstairs. You still want to go to the park, don’t you?”

  Kara shoved the turmoil of emotions over Cory to one side and nodded, letting the excitement she’d felt earlier on the roof build again.

  When they reached the street—her mother, Ischua, and Cory’s parents already waiting—she smiled at Cory and, even though the air between them throbbed with an awkward tension, she grabbed his hand and broke into excited chatter as they headed toward the park.

  Seven

  ALLAN HUSTLED DOWN the crowded walk, dodging the press of people as they edged their way toward the open swath of grass in the park beyond, vying for the best view of the new tower and the rumored spectacle that was going to take place a few hours before sunset. None of them knew exactly what to expect, but everyone had seen the subtowers being lit during the past few weeks and the anticipation had grown, the rumors getting wilder and wilder on the streets. Allan had paid little attention to them, too caught up in the activities of the Dogs and their attempt to find and eliminate all of the Kormanley, and on meeting and surprising Moira. But he could feel the excitement of the crowds now, coming off of the citizens of Erenthrall in palpable waves. It thrummed in his skin and traced lines down his back. His breath quickened as it began to affect him and he pushed deeper into the park, searching for Hagger and the rest of the Dogs. The general city watch was scheduled to patrol the park for the duration of the event and to check those entering the field for anything suspicious, their presence blatant and visible. The Dogs were there to search for the Kormanley and any other dangers as they mingled with the crowds.

  And Allan was already late.

  “Pup! Where in hells have you been?”

  Allan honed in on Hagger’s grating voice, already sensing the anger in it. A moment later he found himself in the empty space that separated the people of Erenthrall from the contingent of Dogs already beginning to break up and spread out around the park.

  Allan headed straight for Hagger. “Have you seen the crowd? It took me forever to get through them.”

  Hagger snorted in contempt. “You mean you stayed with your little servant girl longer than you should have.” He cuffed Allan hard across the back of his head, as if he were a child. “Don’t do it again, no matter how much you want her ass. She’s only a woman, and you’re a Dog and will always be a Dog. The Dogs come first in everything. We’re assigned the northeast corner, farthest from the main activity. Terrence is our alpha today.”

  “Where’s the captain?”

  “With the Baron in Seeley Park, along with a small gathering of extremely exclusive guests. The entire park has been sectioned off. Only the Wielders and the twenty or so guests Baron Arent personally invited are allowed in.”

  “But it’s nearly twice the size of this one. Why not use this one and open Seeley to the rest of Erenthrall?”

  “You saw the barges the Wielders have
had built,” Hagger growled. “They claim they need the barges directly beneath the new tower, which for some reason the Wielders have begun calling the Hub, so that means Seeley Park. Now shut up and let’s find our corner.”

  Allan had seen the barges being built on scaffolding in the middle of the park, complete with sails, which made no sense. The Dogs had also been told what the Wielders intended for those barges, and Allan didn’t believe it was possible. But that was the Wielders’ problem, not the Dogs’.

  Hagger bellowed and a path cleared before them as they made their way across the grass and scattered trees. They reached the northeast corner without trouble, Hagger cursing as a cart drew in front of them, the driver ducking his head within his cowl as the Dog berated him and demanded his vendor’s permit; the cart would already have been checked by the city guard manning the perimeter. He noted their ranks lining opposite sides of the cobbled path that cut down the length of the park. A statue of a soldier, sword drawn and pointed toward the sky, stood on a wide pedestal at the park’s corner, a line of narrow trees screening it from the base of a tower to the east. The Hub rose into the sky to the south, so close that Allan had to crane his neck and shade his eyes from the sun to see the top. It still appeared lifeless to him, the windows darkened, even the veined-leaf texture of its sides strangely flat. But from this distance, he could see the individual leaves that had grown to form its walls. Others protruded outward to form balconies, edges curled up to protect those from falling over the side. Holes gaped wide in the bulbous top.

  Raised voices and the sound of thrown punches hitting flesh drew Allan’s attention back to the park, but Hagger had already intervened, seizing the two young boys by the scruffs of their necks, shaking them like sacks of grain as he roared about keeping the peace or they’d face the Baron’s Amber Tower. Then he tossed them to the ground and waited until they’d picked themselves up and scrambled away. Allan moved closer to the statue, noted another cart, its contents covered, making its way toward the front of the park. A third had wallowed out in the grass at the northwest corner.