I dwelled on this as I went to meet Porti in the courtyard. Today I felt every difference between myself and my Plat friend. I was squirming inside my dress, feeling the brush of my unruly curls against my face. I should not be ashamed of my Leftie half, I told myself. I was as proud of my mother as I was of my father. But I didn’t want to look different. I wanted to look as Porti did rushing toward me, her swooshing skirt billowing around her, emphasizing her tiny waist.
She started right in commenting on ladies’ fashions as we walked to school, oblivious to my discomfort, or perhaps choosing to ignore it and act as if nothing were wrong.
“I don’t think the swooshing skirts will last,” she said, ruffling hers with both hands. “They’re too busy. I think we’ll give them up before the end of summer.”
“It looks fine on you,” I said.
“What does your mother say?” she asked, knowing I feared I couldn’t wear the style.
“She had three of them made special for herself,” I said.
“What about you?” She eyed my plain, straight skirt. Like my mother, I was more comfortable in pants, but I could wear them only when I was riding. Pants on women were the Leftie fashion, out of favor in New Heart City. My mother had taught me that we stood out enough even in gowns.
I shrugged.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, “but you can have some made special, too. I bet your mother looks great in them.”
“You just said they were too busy,” I pointed out. “Despite that fact that you’re wearing one this morning.”
“Yes, but for the style,” she said. She grinned at me and inclined her head toward a lady walking away from us who was swooshing so energetically that it was almost absurd.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, thinking that the swooshing would only make my hips look bigger.
At that moment, Caster passed in front of us with Orphos and another friend, Gregor, also the son of a Council Member. Caster stood a few inches taller than both of them and walked in the middle, clearly the focus of attention. I couldn’t believe that he had been kissing me on Friday night, that he had asked me to be seen with him. As he passed us, he smiled and gave a little wave.
I waved back, and they went ahead of us into the building.
“Ah,” Porti sighed loudly.
I poked her. “He could have heard you.”
“The battle is won,” she said, winking.
I couldn’t stop myself from grinning as we took our seats on the right side of the room, in the front with the other children who had some connection to the Council. The privileged were not officially required to sit separately from the workers; that was just how it was. We all took the same lessons, as education for all was mandated by the Council. Nevertheless, some children of workers didn’t go to school, since they were needed in their parents’ shops. Nolan sometimes didn’t show up because he, like his parents, was an expert clothmaker, and his skills were often needed during busy times. But today he was here, sitting alone in the back. As the only Leftie in our year, he was often alone, usually quiet. Today was the first time I had really noticed that. I had to stop myself from looking in his direction, from acknowledging that we had a kinship. I didn’t want the others to suddenly decide that perhaps I belonged in the back of the room with him.
Our teacher, Mrs. Invar, cleared her throat. “We are going to have a special lesson this morning,” she said. “There has been much news over the weekend about the Flickerkin and their ancestry and potential danger to the citizens of the city. So we are going to discuss this important issue.”
I sat up straight in my seat, startled. We had learned about the Left Eye, and about the uprising, while studying the geography of the Upland. But that lesson was taught to younger students. I found myself looking down at my lap, hoping that Mrs. Invar would stop talking.
“The region of the Upland that we generally refer to as the Left Eye, as you have already learned, sits high above the rest of the plateau,” Mrs. Invar began. “Many thousands of years ago, Uplanders seeking refuge from an incursion of ocean water climbed the cliffs and settled at the top, where they were isolated from the rest of the population and evolved their unique physical characteristics.” Perhaps Mrs. Invar did not mean to put such emphasis on those words, but I heard it that way. My cheeks burned, and I hoped that the warmth was only on the inside. Although she was paler than I, my mother never let herself blush. She would have chastised me to no end for allowing myself to be bothered by my teacher’s words.
“It was during another major incursion that the Flicker Men arrived on their invisible ships,” Mrs. Invar continued. “While the Plateau dwellers dealt with them only at a distance, distrustful of their Ability, the people of the Left Eye welcomed the Flicker Men into their lives. The Flicker Men, too, so they told us, came from a high country. They taught the Lefties new farming methods that increased their crops, and how to mine deep without cutting wide.” It seemed that Mrs. Invar conspicuously did not look at me as she spoke. But I told myself I was inventing it. She had never treated me differently before.
“During this time, most of the Flicker Men left our shores, but some remained, even forming families with the people of the Eye.” She tapped the board behind her, which then displayed a scientific diagram, including drawings of pairs of people. The Lefties were depicted as human-shaped, the Flicker Men as plain circles. “The Ability that allowed the Flicker Men to become invisible came from something in the blood.” I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as Mrs. Invar, who normally did not teach us science (that was reserved for our special lessons with the chief scientific advisor to the Council) continued to explain that the exact cause of invisibility was unknown, but the Ability could propagate itself through generations of intermixing with human blood. “Thus,” she concluded, “a person with only a small amount of Flicker blood may have the ability to instantaneously dissolve.”
“Dissolve isn’t the right word,” said a voice from the back.
The whole class turned to stare at Nolan, who sat rigid, his white blond hair rising in unruly curls that accentuated his solemn face.
“Oh?” said Mrs. Invar. “Nolan, would you care to explain?”
“A person who can flicker doesn’t dissolve; they only make it so you can’t see them. They’re still there, as solid as you are.”
“Well, yes,” said Mrs. Invar. “That’s true. A Flickerkin is still solid.”
“A Flickerkin is still human,” said Nolan.
Everyone stared at him in silence. I remained as quiet as possible, trying to keep the color from my cheeks. No one was staring at me, but I feared they would. Then Nolan broke his gaze from the teacher’s and looked at me. His blue eyes met mine. My eyes are brown, I thought. I was only half Leftie, while he was full. I was nothing like him. He looked away, and the kids turned back around in their seats, some of them glancing at me. It was as if Nolan had torn away a curtain with his eyes, ripping my Plat features from my skin and leaving only the Leftie.
“The Flicker Men were very closely related to humans,” said Mrs. Invar. “Scientists theorize that the two races diverged about three hundred thousand years ago, the last time the oceans were in full recession. This allowed our ancestors to reach the Upland without boats. And here we evolved into modern humans.” Mrs. Invar did not directly express her opinion about whether Flickerkin, those Lefties with some Flicker blood, were human or not, but the implication was clear. We were very closely related to modern humans, which meant not human at all.
Porti didn’t know I was a Flickerkin, but she had seen Nolan look at me. She too must have seen me anew. But when lunchtime came, she treated me no differently, and I pretended nothing had happened. As Porti and I entered the courtyard and approached the benches with the cold luncheon prepared by the Council’s kitchen, I studiously avoided looking anywhere near Nolan, who sat with the few Lefties from the other classes.
“Smile,” Porti whispered, poking me.
Caster waved us over, and as bidden, a smile spread across my face. We sat across from him as he slathered his bread with honey.
“Weird lesson this morning,” said Caster.
“Better than learning about the history of the Head, again,” said Orphos, sitting next to Caster. “Pigs, pigs, beasts, pigs.” He winked at Porti.
She tossed her napkin at him.
Orphos caught it and held it dramatically to his heart, closing his eyes.
Caster grinned at me knowingly.
“I like learning about pigs,” I said. I also liked learning about inherited traits. No one in the world was more interested than I in how I could have the Ability, despite being at most one-sixteenth Flicker. But it was too dangerous for me to express an interest. It was better that, in public, I learn about every part of the Upland besides the Eye, every culture except my mother’s. What I learned from my mother had to stay between us.
“My father’s working on installing the sensors,” said Gregor, on the other side of Caster. His father was the Council Member in charge of the Guard, though the day-to-day operations of the city police force were run by another. Gregor’s father was an engineer by trade, who personally worked on much of the Council’s technology. He probably knew more about these sensors than anyone in the Upland. I was dying to know what Gregor knew but was afraid to ask.
“Do you think they will work?” Porti asked.
“My father thinks so,” said Gregor. “But of course we have no test subject.”
I knew what my mother would say to that, how her eyes would burn even as her cheeks remained free of flush.
“Who cares if it works?” said Caster. “There aren’t any Flickerkin to catch.”
“Is that what your father said?” Porti asked.
“No,” said Caster. “He’s starting to buy this nonsense.” He shook his head.
“But you were right there,” said Porti. “Something knocked me off my beast.”
“Some animal, mostly likely,” Caster said. “The simplest explanation is usually the best—didn’t we learn that in our science lesson?”
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s only a panic.”
“Well, better safe than sorry,” said Gregor.
“I hope there are Flickerkin,” said Porti. “I’d like to meet one. What does one wear when one is invisible?”
Caster and I exchanged an eye roll. Leave it to Porti to bring up fashion at every possible occasion.
“I’d rather talk about the Games,” said Caster. “It’s shaping up to be a good contest.”
“The best in years,” I said. Leave it to Caster to say the right thing, to bring up something that would make me smile.
“It’s too bad they separate the men and the women,” Caster said. “I’d like to see who’d come out on top. Since our personal contest was cut short.”
“I’m not afraid to try again,” I said.
“Oooh,” said Orphos and Porti together.
“I think that’s a challenge,” said Orphos. “You’re not going to let that pass, are you, Caster Ripkin?”
Caster laughed. “I wouldn’t want to unseat a lady.”
“Oooh,” Orphos and Porti cried again.
“You’re not going to let that pass, are you?” said Porti, poking me.
“I wouldn’t end up on the ground,” I said.
Caster grinned. “After the Games. Just in case you do win. I wouldn’t want to ride injured.”
“A wise choice,” I said. “After the Games, then.” We smiled at each other, and as our eyes made contact, I nearly stopped breathing. If only there were not others around us.
The bell clanged from the school building, signaling the end of the lunch period. I almost jumped out of my seat. As we walked back to school, Porti giggled in my ear. “Did you see? While he threatened to unseat you, he examined your bosom.”
“Porti!” I whispered back. I too had noticed, and now I was blushing.
She poked me. “Prude.”
“I? You still haven’t even kissed Orphos!” I whispered. But then we could talk no more, because class started again.
Mrs. Invar moved on to a literature lesson, and my mind drifted to Caster’s smile as he mentioned the Games, and to his eyes indeed—though not too obviously—examining my bosom, and then to the Games themselves. There were many events, from footraces to strength contests to games of purely mental skill. But both Caster and I cared about only the ride.
Last year, when I had placed second among all the women in the Upland, my mother had cheered for me, a rare moment of forgetting to always be still. This year, Hoof and I would make her even more proud. I glanced at Caster, who was doodling on his paper while Mrs. Invar talked about symbolism in a book I feared neither of us had finished reading. I again pictured us on the winners’ podium together. Perhaps he would not only take my hand, but he would put his arm around me. Perhaps he would even kiss me, in front of the photoboxes, in front of the entire world.
As I pictured this scene, the door from the courtyard burst open and two guardsmen walked into the room. Their boots pounded against the bare wood floor. I recognized them from the streets. I knew the Guard as nice men who settled disputes over prices. Crime was rare, serious crime even rarer. One of these two was Brach, who was about ten years older than I.
“Nolan Drachman.” Brach looked right at Nolan, who had returned to his place in the back. It was not a question.
Nolan looked calmly at the guardsman. “Yes?”
“You must come.”
“Must I?” Nolan asked. He remained seated.
“You are required in the office of the Deputy,” said Brach.
The students looked at one another. Caster seemed just as surprised as the rest. He raised an eyebrow at me and shrugged. Nolan, however, was prepared.
“Today’s lesson was no coincidence,” he said. He directed his gaze at Brach but spoke loudly, to all of us.
“You must come,” said Brach.
Nolan rose slowly from his seat. “May I ask why I, the son of two clothmakers, am being summoned to meet with the Deputy to the Waters?”
“His Excellency does not share his reasons with us,” said Brach.
“How many other Lefties have you brought in today?” Nolan asked.
My chest tightened. The morning’s lesson spun through my head. Very closely related. I caught a glimpse of my light brown hair, lying in a telltale curl against my shoulder. But surely Nolan must be wrong. Surely he had committed some crime. Or perhaps the Deputy wanted to commend him for his fine work in his parents’ shop.
“Where are my parents?” Nolan asked.
Both guardsmen stepped forward.
“Tell me exactly where my parents are and what you have done to them, and I’ll come,” Nolan said. His face was still a picture of calmness, but his fists were clenched, his muscular body taut. No wonder they had sent more than one wispy Plat to take him.
“I know nothing of them,” said Brach. But anyone could tell it was a lie. The man was used to wrangling a fair trade out of a fruitseller, not placating boys.
Nolan dissolved into thin air. There was no sound, no warning. One second he was there, and the next second he was not.
The room burst into noise.
“Blessed Waters!” Porti said.
“Did he just—”
“No!” That was Orphos, whose mouth hung all the way open.
The guardsmen looked around them as if they couldn’t understand what had just happened. The door opened of its own accord and then slammed shut. They stood frozen for one more second, and then Brach cried, “After him!” His companion pulled the door open, and they both raced off into the courtyard.
But I was wrong to think that Nolan had dissolved. He had said it himself: He had still been there. Another Flickerkin in New Heart City. What had been happening was not paranoia but real; at least, that is what everyone would believe. My throat closed upon itself; my breathing stop
ped. We were going to be tested—my mother, every Leftie in New Heart City, even me.
From A HISTORY OF THE UPLAND
Heart City was destroyed, but the Plateau People rebuilt it, and New Heart City became the center of a renewed union. The daggers that had killed so many Plateau People were outlawed, and so also were the swords used by the Plateau People to kill Lefties. A new era of peace began, and continues.
From THE DECLARATION OF PEACE
People of the Left Eye may reside upon the Plateau as permitted by the Regulations of the Regions: the Head, the Neck, and New Heart City. But no Region shall suffer the residence of Flickerkin.
Eight
I CAME HOME TO FIND MY PARENTS IN THE MIDDLE OF A RAGING FIGHT.
“Myra!” my father exclaimed as I walked in the door. “Why did you not come straight home?”
“I did,” I said. “School has just ended.”
“You waited until school ended?” my mother asked, her voice calm and cold. Whatever ire had been directed at my father was now directed at me.
“What did you wish?” I asked. “Should I have run out screaming ‘I’m next’? Would that not have been suspicious?”
“Myra, we must leave the city,” my mother said.
“Leave?” The weight of the stares of both my parents together nearly pushed me backwards through the door again. I needed to go to the stables, to ride, to prepare for the Games.
“The Council voted this morning to test Leftie workers,” my father said. “You and your mother are not workers, so the order doesn’t apply to you.”
My mother snorted. “It doesn’t apply to us for now. A nice manipulation by Ripkin.”
“Rhonda, the Deputy himself voted against it. Why would he—”
My mother interrupted, turning to me. “They have jailed the clothmakers, and now their stupid boy has made a spectacle of himself. You didn’t act if you knew him, did you? Tell me you didn’t even look.”
“I looked as everyone else did,” I said. “Only that.”
Flicker and Mist Page 6