by Burke, H. L.
He returned with two paper bags and passed her one.
“Thank you. How do you say 'thank you?'”
He made a fist and tapped his chest over his heart. She did the same. She took a crispy potato and tried to nibble daintily. Brick snatched up a handful and popped them into his mouth. He wiped his greasy fingers on his pant leg.
They ate in silence, for what choice did they have? Every so often a question would bubble to the surface. She would mull over ways to convey the idea then debate whether or not she could comprehend the possible responses. She never spoke.
He finished the last bite of his meal, and together they rose, her still snacking on the crisp potatoes, him clutching his crumpled, empty bag. She supposed it wouldn’t be appropriate for a guard to litter.
They walked, no longer holding hands, back out to the main street. At the crossroads he hesitated, looking left, then right. He glanced down at her and shrugged. She bit her bottom lip. There had to be some way around the lack of communication.
She hesitated. She still had her messenger bag tucked under her cloak, though she’d left a lot of Zeb’s “necessities” at home, making it blessedly lighter. She opened the flap and rustled for her markstone stick and a spare notepad. His eyes lit up when he saw them. He motioned one way then the other and raised his eyebrows. She scratched out, “Do you want to go to the Botanical Gardens?”
He nodded and, once again taking her hand, led the way towards the Leisure District.
§
When she got back to Research, Leilani felt lighter somehow, as if all the troubles of the last few days had evaporated. She found Zeb in the library, studying again.
Zeb eyed her. “What have you been up to?”
Leilani shrugged. “I just went for a walk in the gardens. It's a beautiful day.”
“Really? I thought it was rather cold out.” Zeb handed her a book. “Here, I need you to read through and copy any sections that involve the effects of Strains on plant growth . . . or if it is a long section, just write down the page number so I can find them easily. It'll streamline my study process.”
Leilani grimaced as she took the book. It was a dull task, but she supposed that was what she signed up for, and Zeb appeared to be doing roughly the same thing. The girls sat in silence for the remainder of the afternoon.
§
The next day at lunch, a waitress slipped Leilani a note.
“What's that?” Zeb asked as the girl winked at Leilani and hurried away. Recognizing the handwriting, Leilani blushed.
“Just a note from a friend I met yesterday,” she said, not ready to tell Zeb about Brick.
“Oh. It's good that you're making friends. Is she a junior fellow or another aide?” Zeb took a bite of bread.
“Neither, just Common like me.” For a moment Leilani thought she saw disappointment in Zeb's eyes, but it faded. “I'm not hungry. Do you want me to go ahead to the workshop? See what Brash wants from you this afternoon?”
Zeb shook her head. “He's taking a long lunch with Mistress Straight. He's rather flirty with her. I'm beginning to think it's his default manner with females. I'm going to get some reading done in our room. Why don't you go see your friend? Ask if she wants to join us for dinner sometime.”
Leilani nodded and slipped away. She opened the note in the first stretch of empty hallway.
Hello, Lei,
Yesterday was fun. I knew I'd like you when I saw you picking that lock. Something just clicked in my head, and I thought, 'This is a girl who takes chances and doesn't let obstacles stand in her way.' I like that. You don't see enough of that in the manors.
I hope I can see you today, but I have back to back watches. If you have time, I am free for a few hours around lunch and will be in the barracks. Hope I can find someone to bring you this message.
See you soon,
Brick
She smiled. The Strains piped like flutes, a happy, playful melody, a bit erratic, but it matched her heartbeat. Walking as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself, she hurried through Research.
The door to the guard's quarters was wide open. Two older guards leaned beside it, smoking pipes and chatting.
They obviously aren't deaf like Brick. Are they Wordless, like Goodly? I suppose it would be impolite to ask.
She opened her mouth to explain, but the older of the two just smiled and waved her in.
Wow, I'm expected. I wonder what he told them.
The barracks was one large room lined with at least two dozen cots, each with a small footlocker at the end. Brick sat about halfway down the row, polishing his boots. He grinned and beckoned her closer.
She sat on the cot across from him and held out the note. His face turned a shade pinker, but his smile remained.
“You say such nice things. I'm glad we're friends,” she said.
His eyes clouded. He took up a notepad then rummaged around on the floor before shrugging and pointing towards her mouth.
“Oh . . . we're friends. Me, you.” She pointed from herself to himself. “Friends.”
He nodded. Holding out both hands, he made circles with his index fingers and thumbs and locked his hands together so that his fingers looked like chain links.
“Friends?” she asked.
He took her hands and helped her form the same shape.
She repeated the gesture. “Friends.”
His smile widened, and he let out a long, loud, “Ah!”
Startled, her hands dropped.
Brick flushed and looked away. The Strains gave a low whistle and died down to a depressing dirge of organ music.
“Oh no. Don't . . .” She stood. Glancing down she spied a markstone stick poking out from under his polishing cloth.
Oh, that's what he was looking for. She picked it up and passed it to him.
He took a minute writing, obviously considering his words carefully.
I'm sorry. I forget how strange I must sound. When I was younger, littler kids were scared by how I sounded. I didn't quite understand why, but I realized they accepted me easier if I just stayed silent. Sometimes it just slips out, though. So sorry I scared you.
She shook her head and took the notepad.
I wasn't scared. Just surprised. I stupidly thought you couldn't make sounds at all. Please never apologize for who you are. I like who you are. Who you are makes me smile.
He let out a long breath as he read her note. His hand stroked the side of her face, making her breath catch in her throat. He repeated the sign, friends, his lips quirking into a half smile. For a moment a strange desire to kiss him filled her, and she had to look away from his mouth.
She wrote out another note. My father is a weaver. Is your dad a guard too?
He shook his head and took the pad. He was a handyman at Healing Manor. My grandfather was a guard though.
She noted the 'was' and her face warmed. “Is he dead?” seemed a rude thing to ask, so she changed the subject. Do you like being a guard?
For an instant his mouth quirked downward. It puts bread on the table. What about you? How come you're in the manors, not a weaving shop?
As she took her turn with the markstone stick, the Strains started a merry tune, mirroring her current mood. Part of her wished Brick could hear them, but she pushed the thought out of mind and kept writing.
Chapter Thirteen
They exchanged notes for over an hour before Brick pulled out a dented pocket watch, checked the time, then tucked it away again.
He scratched out in his large, blocky letters: I need to get back for my shift, but if we leave now I can walk you home.
He stuck out his elbow, allowing her to slip her arm through the crook in his.
They passed few people, for most of the fellows worked in outside workshops, like Brash’s. When they reached the hallway outside her and Zeb’s quarters, however, Leilani released Brick’s arm, her hands dropping to her sides.
Zeb sat, huddled in front of their door, her hair dis
heveled and her knees pulled against her chest.
“Zeb? What’s wrong?” Leilani rushed to her friend’s side and put her hand on the door knob, hoping to get her out of the hall.
I can't let her be seen like this.
“No!” Zeb’s hand shot up and pulled Leilani’s from the handle.
Leilani stared down at her. The black of Zeb’s pupils widened to consume the cloudy sky blue of her eyes.
“The dead spot is in there.” Zeb whimpered. “It's in my home. Oh Leilani, what if I am cursed? What if it is after me?” She shrank into Leilani's chest, shuddering.
Leilani felt a soft touch on her shoulder and looked up to see Brick. He pointed to Zeb, then forced his face into an exaggerated frown, and traced imaginary lines from his eyes. He raised his hands, palms up.
Leilani hesitated. How could she communicate this? Even if he managed to read her lips, he had never heard the Strains. Would he understand?
“She’s frightened,” Leilani said. “It's hard to explain.”
Zeb pried her face from Leilani’s shoulder and stared at Brick. “Who are you?”
He waved and nodded to Leilani.
“This is Brick. He’s a guard and . . . my friend.”
Brick’s mouth curled into an unruly grin. He hooked his thumbs together and mouthed, “Friend” then raised his eyebrows.
Zeb blinked at him, pursing her lips. She waved and turned back to Leilani. “I can’t go in my room if the Strains aren’t there.”
“The dead spots always fade. It's probably already gone. Here.” Leilani untangled herself from Zeb’s embrace. Zeb scooted across the hallway, her rump never leaving the floor, as Leilani opened the door and stepped into the room.
The silence hit her like the slap of an icy hand. Resisting the urge to flee, she steadied herself against the door frame.
Zeb’s love of collecting and analyzing information had never rubbed off on Leilani. It simply didn’t seem a useful pursuit. However, in this situation it was exactly what was needed.
But Zeb wouldn’t move.
She turned to look at her friend. Brick had stationed himself at Zeb’s side though his eyes squinted in puzzlement.
“Zeb, we can figure this out. You are good at deduction and observation. Help me get to the bottom of this.”
Zeb dropped her gaze and didn’t speak. Her hands clenched and unclenched, her knuckles as white as her face.
Leilani exhaled her frustration. She forced herself further into the room. Standing in the narrow space between the two beds, she listened. So silent. So unnerving. Only the drumming of her heart.
It wasn’t just the quiet, however. The air felt thin and substance-less, as if something had been drained from it. An image of the dried fruit her mother made sprang to mind. The air resembled those, wrung out and condensed, wrinkled husks of themselves.
Chills danced up and down her spine. She returned to Zeb and helped her stand.
“How long ago did you find it?” Leilani asked.
“Right after lunch. I’m not sure how long it has been. It feels like hours.”
Leilani frowned. It had been at least an hour. The spots had never lasted this long before. Things were getting worse.
Leilani touched Brick’s arm. “You should go or you’ll be late for your shift. Thank you for the wonderful time.”
He smiled again, linked his thumbs together, then waved.
“Good-bye ‘friend’ to you too.” She laughed.
She watched him until his head disappeared over the horizon of the staircase.
Zeb rubbed her arms as if trying to warm herself. “What now?”
“I don't know.” Leilani shrugged. “There is a massive, silent dead spot hovering in our room. I won’t be able to sleep in there tonight. Will you?”
“Oh Strains, no.” Zeb winced.
They stood, side by side, staring at the doorway.
“Zeb, we should tell someone,” Leilani finally said. “We can bring them here and show them and maybe they will know what to do. The Strains have been around for . . .well, ever. Surely someone has heard of dead spots and knows what to do about them. We should go to Mistress Straight or Fellow Brash or even Highmost Cogg.”
Zeb shuddered.
Leilani touched her shoulder. “They won’t cast you out, not when you can show them. Please. You're falling to pieces.”
Zeb nodded. “I think Fellow Brash will still be in the library.”
Zebedy led the way down one of the straight spoke-like halls towards the wheel’s center, a round room that stretched upward for three stories. From the middle, on a great, metal turntable that enabled it to face any portion of the sky, jutted the massive telescope. Great, twisting staircases circled this, allowing fellows to reach several viewing platforms where lesser astronomical tools–astrolabes, charts, and planispheres–rested. The roof was domed with great skylights allowing the telescope to gaze outward. The room beneath had a roughly hexagonal shape. Each of the six sides housed shelves crowded with books from floor to ceiling.
A few fellows roamed about or sat, reading, on the benches. Zeb continued past these to a section beneath the telescope. She stopped short.
Brash sat at the table, poring over papers, and across from him stood Cogg.
No longer red faced, the Highmost of Research at least appeared placid, his mouth frowning, but only slightly, and his eyes dull, rather than blazing. Zeb backed up a step. Leilani put her hand between Zeb’s shoulder blades with a gentle push. A swallow rippled down Zeb’s throat. Cogg cast his eyes upon them, and his brows melted together. Zeb pressed back into Leilani’s hand.
“This is one of your juniors, isn’t it, Brash?” Cogg asked.
Brash turned to look at them. “Miss Brightly, I thought you were writing a report this afternoon. Are you finished already?”
“No, sir.” Zeb's voice quavered like one of the taut strings of Mr. Weaver’s loom. The Strains vibrated in sync with her words. “There is something wrong. We found ‘dead spots’.”
“Dead spots?” Cogg’s face contorted, becoming even more unpleasant. “What nonsense are you spouting?”
“I don’t know what to call them. I’d never found one before I came here, but they are like big, empty holes where the Strains have disappeared. The first ones only lasted minutes, but today one settled over our room and won’t leave.”
Cogg snorted. “Childish nightmares! This is what comes of coddling the younger generation.”
Leilani scowled at the man. Adult or not, High-Whatever or not, he had no right to dismiss Zeb that way, not when she was so obviously frightened. She burrowed her stare into his forehead until he noticed. His jaw slackened for a moment before he hardened his mouth and eyed Brash. “Tell your juniors we have real issues to concern us.”
Brash sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Leilani rolled her eyes. There was no way Brash was man enough to stand up to Cogg or even tell Zeb off. He wanted to play both sides of this game. The Strains whistled around them, maybe trying to coax the men one way or another, but no one reacted to them.
“This is real!” Leilani said. “We have found three of them so far, and every time they are bigger and last longer.”
“What if they grow to consume all the Strains?” Zeb’s eyes widened, and she clenched her hands together.
Brash cleared his throat. “Sir, if they are right–”
“Brash! You aren’t really buying into this rubbish? I forbid you, any of you–” He swept his glare across both of the girls then hit Brash with a targeted beam of malice. The Strains hummed a rapid, twittering tone. “–to speak of this. You’ll cause panic and chaos, and I will not have my fellows spreading rumors. The Strains are, have always been, and will always be, stable.” Cogg stepped around the table, muttering, “If I wanted to waste my time listening to prattle, I’d attend one of Art’s insipid theater productions.”
Leilani put her arm around Zeb’s slumping shoulders as Cogg stalked off.
&nbs
p; “It isn’t prattle,” Zeb whispered.
Brash stood. “Show me.”
The girls led Fellow Brash up to their quarters. Leilani put her hand on the doorknob, for the first time praying that the dead spot would be there.
She stepped in, and her heart sank. The Strains still whistled about her. Biting her bottom lip, she moved into the center of the room. Absolute quiet encircled her. Her skin prickled, and she turned and beckoned to Brash.
The fellow walked to her and nodded. “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”
Leilani looked past him to where Zeb cowered against the opposite wall. “Zeb, it is shrinking. That means it will be gone soon. Come on.”
Zebedy came forward with timorous steps. She stood at the foot of her bed.
The Strains trickled back into the dead spot like water filling a vessel. They sounded subdued, but after the silence, any sound was welcome. Leilani’s chest rose and fell freely once more.
“So it is real.” Brash scratched the back of his neck.
“And each one has lasted longer than the last,” Zeb said. “Please, tell Highmost Cogg. He needs to do something.”
Brash’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t seem open to this discussion.”
“But you’ve felt it now. He has to listen to you!” Zeb bounced on her toes like a child in need of a chamber pot.
“Surely other folk have encountered these spots,” Leilani said. “We’ve found three spread over Research. Someone else is bound to stumble onto one soon, if they haven’t already. Plus if they are lasting for hours at a time, we can show people.”
Brash shook his head. “If you try to tell others, even with proof, Cogg will have you evicted. He doesn’t tolerate dissension.”
Leilani raised her eyebrows.
Zeb’s hairline elevated. “That goes against the very spirit of Research! We are meant to ask questions. Anyway, shouldn’t he want to protect the Strains?”
“Unless he has a vested interest in keeping this quiet.” Brash motioned towards the door. Leilani shut it, and he sat on the edge of Zeb’s bed. “Don’t trust Highmost Cogg. I can’t explain everything I know, but he looks out only for himself and his own power. If it were to his benefit to somehow . . . harness the Strains, he would do so without a moment’s hesitation.”