by Rin Chupeco
“You’re not going to tell on me?”
“Did you really think you could stay on this ship and never get caught?”
I shook my head, sheepish. “I was hoping to hide until returning was deemed impossible.”
“I reckon you’d met your goal.” Janella looked concerned. “I trust Maleeyah isn’t too out of sorts?”
“She’s fast asleep on my bed at the Spire,” I confessed. “She’ll be drowsy when she wakes, but that’s it.”
“I can try to keep up with the pretense if you want to drag it out, but I can’t guarantee much.” Janella glanced to her side, where Lan was bent over and throwing up again. I ducked back down. “Count your lucky stars that Lady Tianlan is too busy being sick to observe much, Your Holiness.”
“What is this river?” I whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Janella brightened. “Beautiful, isn’t it? The theory goes that when the world broke, the flow of magic in nature was disrupted as well. Trees bursting into flame of their own accord, acid rainfall leaving the ground barren, the creation of riverwinds like these that are strong enough to bear ships—with the world no longer turning, the patterns became imbalanced. All our understanding of the laws of nature has been thrown out the window.”
“Creature ahead!” someone screamed.
Janella started. I whirled, just in time to catch the silhouette of a large tail, barely visible against the hurricanes around us, before it disappeared into the changing winds.
“Hell.” Lan wiped at her mouth. “I want a report, any of you who saw it. Is it one of the shadow creatures?”
“I—I can’t be certain, milady.” Gareen spoke up. “It seemed solid to me.”
“Mereen, Graham, Miel—I want you off to starboard. Holsett, Aleron, Tamerlin—divide the port side among yourselves. I’ll take the helm. Noe, take the back.”
“Stern,” Noelle corrected.
“Whatever the hell it’s supposed to be called, you’re over there. If you see anything, yell out. The rest of you, prepare to attack on my mark. Air knives and ice blades only. Let’s not summon up stronger wind while we’re being tunneled in from all sides.” Gracea might know how to maneuver a ship, but Lan knew how to fight. The others scattered to obey.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off Lan. It was stunning to see her in her element like this. Despite the danger, I could feel my breath catching. Even Captain Lazar from The Pirate and the Princess had nothing on her.
Janella let out a small shriek, clapping a hand to her mouth. I barely managed to repress one of my own; for a second, the winds behind us had parted, and we saw an eye half the size of the ship, staring down at us. And then the currents closed over it again, and it was gone.
“Starboard!” I heard Cathei yell out, but almost immediately something slammed hard into the hull, sending most of us tumbling to one side. A few volleys of ice shards flew through the air, but I wasn’t sure if any of them made a hit before the creature swam back out of sight.
“Everyone, hold on to something that’s bolted down! Gracea, find someone else to take the helm!” Lan screamed at the Starmaker. “I want as much illumination as you can give me!”
The older woman paused. “You can’t give me orders—”
Another hard slam, this time at port. “Unless you want this ship to shake off every bolt and screw it has, you’re going to do what I say and like it!” Lan all but snarled.
But the second hard impact had already convinced Gracea. Blinding light ripped down both sides of the ship, and there was a loud wheezing scream that almost deafened me. Once our eyes adjusted, we saw a large creature with a round bloated body and overly large pupils, blinking back from the sudden glare. It turned its bright black eyes at us and shrieked again.
“Ice!” Lan roared, and the next volley of icicles hit their mark. The monster thrashed frantically, rocking against the side of the ship.
“Your Holiness,” Janella croaked, but I’d already hopped up and dashed toward the railing. With the steady buffet of winds, I knew it was hard for the others to form the ice they needed for their projectiles. I peered down into the churning waters underneath us, farther away now that the riverwind was slowly ascending, with us along for the ride. I reached out with my hand, concentrating, willing the unruly seas to obey my unspoken command. The waters were an inky, putrid black, almost indiscernible from the night sky surrounding us. I could feel their patterns leaching out toward me, slow-moving and slack, and I struggled to amass as much as I could from them.
But I couldn’t. I was too weak to spin the patterns like I wanted, too weak against the size of the ship and the winds tugging us into all directions.
I saw it, then: towering on the other side of the ship was another massive galla, its dark head wrapped in a turban made of gleaming sapphires, from which a pair of horns sprouted. It was large enough for it to bend its head down toward me from where it stood, and no one else seemed to notice. It was a sooty, looming shape against the gray clouds overhead; without its jewels it could have disappeared into the sky behind it, camouflaged against the lightless night.
The first galla had gifted me with clarity. Was this second for courage?
It extended something that passed for a hand, and I realized it was waiting.
I had accepted that first galla on impulse, but to accept the second now was a conscious decision, and with it meant accepting every consequence thereafter. I wavered, for a moment unsure. Could I really do this? Should I do this?
But the screams of the others soon shook me out of my stupor, and I reached out to secure its grip.
Be satisfied. A divine power of the underworld has been fulfilled. You must not open your mouth against the rites of the underworld.
And then it was gone.
The monster was back, circling around us so quickly that I knew we wouldn’t have time to react before the next strike. But the magic now bubbled around me, thick and hungry where it had previously been enfeebled and out of bounds. I was almost there. A little bit more, a little bit more . . .
The large creature retreated slightly, then surged forward again, mouth opening to reveal rows of jagged black teeth, but Noe, who had scampered partway up the stern, took careful aim. The monster wailed and reeled away, one eye slamming shut as my steward’s javelin found its mark. It rolled over, still somehow buoyed up by the winds, trying to shake the hurt away. Though injured, it drew closer, angrier now, ready to try again.
My water-gates opened.
The corpulent beast slammed hard against a sudden wall of ice that separated it from the ship, with enough force that I was certain the loud crack that resonated through the riverwind was not the sound of ice breaking apart, but the sound of an inhuman head being split open.
With one last scream, the creature tore away, leaving us blessedly alone. “The galla of courage it is, then,” I murmured. It was an apt title. I felt . . . strong. Stronger than before I’d gone onboard the Brevity. Channeling that much power through my gates should have made me pass out. But now—
The lights sparked and dimmed, and Gracea braced herself against the wheel, breathing hard. Lan managed a long, throaty laugh. “Damn, Noe. I’m not even sure if wounding it was a good or bad thing for us, but that was some throw.”
“It was a good javelin,” Noelle said mournfully, staring down at the depths.
The others were picking themselves up from the floor, nervous laughter interspersed with faint cheers. Lan straightened up, then marched in our direction. I whirled around frantically, trying to find some means of escape, to no avail.
Grimly, Lan tugged my hood down. “Your Holiness,” she said, and my heart plummeted. “You’re right. We both really can’t have everything we want.”
Chapter Eight
Haidee the Debutante
THE CACOPHONY OF SOUND THAT accompanied my entrance threatened to rupture my eardrums.
Mother had these parties twice a month to keep the Devoted and the rest o
f the bourgeoisie occupied in these times of peace. To most, the celebrations were a break from the monotony occasionally interrupted by nomad attacks and sandstorms, neither of which had ever been successful when pitted against the resolute strength of the Golden City’s air-domes.
I don’t blame the people for wanting a distraction. And only Mother could find jugglers, bards, dancers, and other talents to cultivate in the middle of this desert, to curry enough demand to make such performances a thriving industry on its own. An orchestra composed mainly of trumpets was not the standard at these grand functions, but this was my first official debut into society as an eligible bachelorette, and Mother had pulled out all the stops to celebrate.
Seamstresses, too, flourished in their trade, and I was wearing one of Vella’s best fashion creations—a flowing white gown that made me feel pretty despite my slightly ungainly movements caused by the thick, stiff brocade. Typically, a dress like this came with a handmaiden to follow behind me and carry the end of the train, but I had waved her away earlier in the evening, deciding to risk people stumbling over it at inopportune moments for the chance at some privacy.
Mother and I hadn’t talked since that incident in her private chambers, and I couldn’t blame her. I had broken her trust but felt she had done the same to me. Didn’t I have the right to know who my father was? And as her heir, shouldn’t I have access to more information about the Breaking and everything that had happened there?
And then there was the discovery that I had a sister. What kind of person would she have been? Would she have loved tinkering with gears like I did, or would she take more after Mother, organized and clever? Knowing about her sooner would have made life a little less lonely—but Mother had decided otherwise.
And also, the letter: Flee Brighthenge! The magic that place wields can destroy the world as easily as it can revive it—
It seemed likely that my father and my sister were both dead, judging from Mother’s reaction—but had they died at the Breaking?
I was just as stubborn as Mother was. When I snuck into her chambers again the following day, she had cleared her study of books, and empty shelves met my eyes. I was determined, however; if I had to run back out into the desert and get my answers out of the mirage instead, I would.
Mother was chatting pleasantly with Lord Leron and some of her Devoted on the other side of the room. I shifted nervously, resisted the urge to scratch at the back of my neck and the faint itching there. Like many of the guests today, Lord Leron had arrived with several sons in tow, hoping I would select one that would suit my fancy, as if they were nothing but properly turned-out petticoats. This was a custom every goddess endured—we could select our own mates from a pool of suitors, with the subsequent engagement announced later that night, and the wedding four months after. Mother’s idea of a compromise had been to delay any engagements for a year until I was sure of my decision, while holding more galas in the meantime.
Most of the sons in question didn’t appear to be offended at being subjected to this selection process, as if they were slabs of meat rated for quality—I suppose the benefits far outweighed the possible insult. But I had no intentions of getting affianced today or in the immediate future. It felt like another millstone around my neck, tying me down to the duties of a goddess-queen, preventing me from venturing out into the desert on my own, as I wanted.
“The belle of the hour,” Mother said lightly as I approached her and her circle of Devoted. Most I already knew by face, but I dutifully made my introductions like I was meeting them for the first time. “Stay with us for a while,” Mother encouraged. “Lord Kellivore here has something to say about the Sun Towers.”
“You do highly commendable work there, Your Holiness,” the man complimented me. “I admit I have little knowledge of gears and cogwheels. How they power the Golden City may as well be magic to me!”
“Thank you, milord,” I murmured. “With better resources, I warrant we could do even more.”
“I don’t see how much more you can improve barring better access to rainwater,” Lord Manderey pointed out. “Given our limited supply of silver and ores, Her Holiness and her daughter are working miracles.”
“Speak for yourself, Harold,” Lord Ackers retorted. “I wouldn’t mind expanding the dome to have more land for gambling houses!” Laughter met that comment.
“If we had more supplies,” I said, before I could stop myself, “we could do even more than that.”
“How so, Your Holiness?”
“We could build controlled shelters outside the dome for the other people living in the desert. With them, we could house a small community with ease, milord,” I said, growing excited by the idea. “We’d only need rudimentary construction materials, but we’d beef them up with quicksilver and the same mechanisms we employ up at the towers at an affordable cost. The greenhouses we use here can be employed on a smaller scale even out in the desert, as we have the right tools to keep them sustainable. I have a plan to tap into the aqueducts for . . .”
I trailed off. Half the lords were staring at me like I’d lost my mind; the other half looked on pityingly.
“And why, pray tell,” Lord Ackers said, “should we care about those violent nomads?”
“It’s . . . well, I assume that if we helped them, they wouldn’t be violent any longer.”
“I don’t see the point,” Lord Ledermene said. “They would see that as a sign of weakness and demand more from us. They’re a temporary threat, anyway. They’ll die out soon enough.”
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Mother murmured, laying a hand on my arm. “There are a few things I wish to discuss with my daughter.”
We moved away, to a small veranda. Most of the city was asleep, and the dome’s reflective sheets had been activated, lowering at least 40 percent of the sun’s glare. Beyond our territory there was nothing else but sand as far as the eye could see. The Golden City had been built close to the Salt Sea, but that was before the waters had ebbed further, and we had to rely on the construction of aqueducts that drew water from underground to meet the city’s needs.
“You’ve always been too passionate, Haidee.” Mother said nothing about out earlier fight; we rarely talked about our spats in their aftermath, pretended like things were back to normal between us without ever voicing our concerns again.
“I don’t like them treating me like I don’t know any better,” I said stiffly.
“They’re men. It’s in their blood. But they’re right about one thing: our subjects take priority. I know that it pains you to think about those suffering outside the dome, but there is very little we can do about it at the moment.”
“Why not? Why can’t we help? If we’re the rulers of Aeon, then surely we can do more than just rule a city! Just because so few people remember the world before the Abyss doesn’t mean we should give up figuring out how to set things right!”
“I’ve been at this longer than you have. It’s not something you can fix with a snap of your fingers. You can’t save everyone, Haidee.”
“I know.” I stared out into the horizon, wondering how many people were still out there, starving and struggling and hating us like the nomad boy had. “I just feel like it doesn’t have to be a choice between us and them.”
She adjusted the straps on my dress. “But it is a choice, my dear one. It’s one we have to make, however unpleasant. Vella did marvelous work on your gown today.”
“I feel like I’m wrapped up in the world’s most expensive bandages.”
She chuckled. “When I was your age, the dress I wore for my own party had a longer train. It was easily three yards’ worth, and I was sure everyone present had stepped on it at least twice. Someone finally had the temerity to take a knife and put an end to my misery by cutting it away.”
“Somebody destroyed your dress?”
“I was furious about it, until I realized what he was doing. And then I . . .” She stopped, a small smile on her lips, before recall
ing herself. “Lord Alphonse is waiting for you, my dear. It’s best you make your rounds.”
I groaned but obeyed. Some unspoken rule had me switching admirers every half an hour or so, probably to provide a wider sampling of beaus, so to speak.
In the hours that followed, I found my worst fears confirmed. Lord Alphonse talked about nothing but sandracing, Sir Emmett was obsessed with pedigree as much as his family was, and I had caused a minor scandal earlier by throwing my drink at Sir Leopold’s face when he intimated I should focus on gowns and primping while he ruled the city on my behalf. Sir Belledier, my latest suitor, was nice enough, but he also had the personality of a mushroom, and small talk was the extent of his conversation.
At least the desert nomad had been honest about his opinion of me.
Annoyed by the thought, I’d asked for punch, seeking any excuse to send Belledier away, and he complied, trotting off obediently. I leaned back against a nearby wall, watching a few jugglers tossing knives at each other while an appreciative audience clapped.
“You look like you bear the whole world on your shoulders,” a voice commented, and I turned to see Lord Vanya offering me a glass of sweetwine.
I was glad to see him. “Well, it is a challenge to walk in this outfit.”
“I could see that, though it’s a rather picturesque look. It’s the kind of dress that forces you to stay put whether you like it or not. One could say it was an impractical choice, but I’d say it was a deliberate move on Her Holiness’s part. No offense meant to Her Holiness.”
I glanced sharply at him. “You seem to be very familiar with my mother’s inclinations.”
“I would say we all have a significant motive in gaining your mother’s approval, Your Holiness. I was worried when you left abruptly the other day.”