The Never Tilting World

by Rin Chupeco

  I dragged a trunk out from underneath my bed and fished out a bolt of silk that I’d carefully measured and cut into a conical shape. After strapping the cloth to my back with a secure harness and with my bag in tow, I climbed out my window.

  My room was a couple of stories below Mother’s, but as our tower was the tallest in the city it was still a fatal drop at over a hundred feet. Balanced precariously on the small sill, I glanced down at the unforgiving ground below me and gulped.

  Theoretically, it should work. I’d used a dummy for an initial experiment, to great success—but knowing the math was sound was one thing, and using a living, breathing person to test it out was another thing entirely.

  I gripped my harness grimly like it was a lifeline—technically, it was. This better work, I growled to myself, and jumped.

  My room faced away from the city, toward the dunes, which made it less likely for anyone to pay attention to my free fall. I hoped my screams would be lost to the winds as I plummeted down, so much faster than I had imagined. If I pulled the sails too soon, I could slam hard into the tower walls. Too late, and I’d be a lifeless stain on the ground.

  Now! I tugged hard and the makeshift canopy billowed up above me, halting my rapid descent. Almost at the same time I channeled Air, the currents pushing up against the silk to help stabilize my steering and further slow down my descent. But I’d miscalculated a little, opening the chute a second past when I was supposed to, and wound up tumbling ungracefully across the ground.

  Reassured that nothing was broken, I sprang up, checking whether anyone had seen me. There was no outcry. No one had spotted my flailing attempt at flight.

  Jes and Charley were manning the gates; they gaped at me as I arrived. “Where are you going?” Jes demanded, staring at my bag; I’d brought a good amount of equipment I was certain I would need for the trip, but I’d never thought to make it lightweight. The wheels helped, but it was still an ungainly load.

  “You have to let me outside, Jes,” I pleaded.

  He hesitated. “I . . . Haidee . . .”

  “Is it because of the mirage?” Charley asked. “Or was the ball really that bad?”

  “It’s important, Charley. I swear, I might know a way to stop these sandstorms once and for all, but I need to go outside.” I felt bad about stretching the truth, but I was desperate.

  “It looks like you’re not coming back for a while.”

  “I’ll return, I promise. You both just have to trust me.”

  Both hesitated and glanced at each other. It was Jes who made the decision, flinging the lever across. “I do, Your Holiness.”

  I hugged them both. “Thank you.”

  No one noticed the gates opening, or closing once I’d made it across. I scrambled behind one of the abandoned wagons and paused for breath, pleased that I had gotten away so easily.

  It took me a moment to realize, though, that the caravan was empty of goods. Where had all the silver gone?

  A hand landed on my shoulder, holding me in place while an arm wound across my throat, cutting off my breath. An arm, I realized, that ended in a stub where a hand ought to be.

  “You dimwit,” a voice rasped against my ear.

  Chapter Nine

  Lan the Hunter

  “THERE IS NO DIRECT ROUTE back to Aranth at this point,” Seasinger Graham said, scanning the seas of air like an answer lay tucked in between the currents streaming on either side of the Brevity, waiting to be found.

  “Then make a way,” I fumed. The cause of my ire sat beside Janella, looking both apologetic and unrepentant at the same time.

  Graham spread his hands. “You ask the impossible, Catseye. According to the maps you yourself supplied, there is no return path back to the city until we reach the entrance leading into the Lunar Lakes, and that will require at least two more nightspans.”

  Gracea scowled, not liking this new revelation one bit. For once, we were in agreement. “This will delay our trip considerably, but we have no choice. As soon as we reach the fork in the river that dips back north, we’ll make the return journey to bring Her Holiness back, and then start out again.”

  “You can’t!” Odessa blurted out, starting to her feet. “I need to be here!”

  “No, you don’t.” I had never felt more furious at her. “You’re going back to Aranth. There is no bargaining to be had here, Your Holiness.”

  She flinched. “I have to be here. That creature could have capsized the ship!”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “No, it isn’t! You know I can be useful. At least give me the chance to prove myself again!”

  “You’re still sick—”

  “Not anymore. I feel stronger now than I ever have back at the Spire!”

  Already I could see the others wavering, more inclined to agree with her than not. The monster had come upon us unexpectedly, and there were too many nerves still frayed and shaken from that encounter.

  “Your mother doesn’t think the same, my dear,” Gracea said. “And she shall surely have our hides if we don’t bring you back.”

  Odessa glared at her. “I’ll wreck this ship,” she threatened.

  “Your Holiness . . . !” The Starmaker gasped.

  “I’ll wreck it, I swear. And then I’ll destroy every ship in the harbor. It’ll be months before you can build a new one. Not even Mother can fix that. Don’t think I won’t do it!”

  “Your Holiness, why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  “Because they’re calling me, Starmaker. There is something at the breach that only I can do, and I know you will all fail without me. Either I come along, or no one gets to leave.” Odessa turned to me, her eyes pleading. “Lan, you know me. Please, please trust me.”

  I sighed and placed my hand on her shoulder. “You know that I trust you, Odessa,” I said quietly, gently brushing a wayward lock of red-shifting-into-green hair from her eyes. A soft blush stole over her cheeks. “But this is not my call to make.”

  My aether-gates opened.

  Odessa let out a muffled, outraged sound. And then her eyes rolled up into her head. I caught her before she could fall, gently gathering her in my arms and turning her over to Noe.

  “What did you do?” Gracea squawked.

  “Put her to sleep, ironically enough.” I hated it. I didn’t want to have to resort to using my magic against her, but I believed her threats, and I knew I had no other choice. An Odessa mad at me forever was infinitely better than a dead Odessa.

  Gracea sighed noisily. “I suppose it’s better this way.” Before anyone could stop her, she turned to poor Janella and hit her hard across the face, the blow as loud as a crack of thunder. The young girl hit the deck; stunned, blood trickling out her nose.

  “Gracea!” I barked.

  “This is a far more merciful punishment than what I’d planned. You should be flogged for not alerting us immediately of her presence on this ship. Once we return to Aranth, I’m half-tempted to carry that out myself.” The Starmaker raised her hand again, and I stepped in, caught it before she could land another hit.

  “Gracea,” I managed through gritted teeth, disgusted. “There will be no more disciplinary actions of this sort on the Brevity.”

  “This is my ship, and I’m in charge.”

  “I. Don’t. Care. Lay a hand on her—or on anyone else—and you’ll answer to me.”

  I could see shining patterns crackling around Gracea, the air-gates in her eyes simmering with Light. I hadn’t closed my own gates after putting Odessa to sleep, and I allowed them to flare brighter in response. The Starmaker could quite easily choose to strike me with lightning if she really was that much of a fool, but she wasn’t impervious to her own bolts, and I wasn’t releasing her wrist just yet.

  Her gates faded and she grunted. I let go. “Odessa was your charge,” Gracea said. “Perhaps if you were better at your job, we would not be in such a predicament.” I said nothing, unwilling to rise to the bait. She turned awa
y. “Holsett! Stay the course!”

  “Thank you,” Janella whispered, as the others slowly dispersed.

  “I’m not happy you didn’t tell us either, Janella, but that doesn’t warrant Gracea’s stupidity.” I offered her a small napkin, which she accepted, dabbing at her nose. “Finish up the meal preparations, and alert me as soon as anyone spots any other creatures within the riverwinds. Send for Noelle. I’m not letting my ward out of my sight until we see Aranth’s docks.”

  “Catseye Tianlan.” Sumiko drifted closer. “Would you require any help? It’s been quite a while since I last—”

  “No,” I growled. “I don’t need it, Sumiko.”

  “I think it would be good if you would at least submit to a—”

  “No, Sumiko.” Did I sound too defensive?

  The woman bowed, her long black hair falling across her face, just as Noe arrived. “Very well. You know where to find me should you change your mind.”

  Noe and I had initially planned to share a cabin, but Odessa’s presence meant a change of plans. Noe was to occupy the smaller room next door instead. Noe had placed the still-sleeping Odessa on one of the beds. “She’s right, you know,” my friend said.

  “What?”

  “The young mistress is right. She’s a better asset to us here than back in the city.”

  I exhaled. “Not you too, Noe.”

  “An observation, nothing more. I’ll move my things out.”

  Once she’d left, I curled up on the bed beside Odessa and took her hand. It didn’t take me long to cleanse her again, as I’d done every night before, but the fist-size black hole inside her remained—now slightly bigger than before.

  I hated that she was here, hated that she thought she had to be here.

  The Brevity was to take us through the eastern path along the Lunar Lakes, which led into the Spirit Lands, instead of the westbound route my team and I had undertaken. Asteria was expecting the strong acid rains that frequently blanketed the eastern region of the Spirit Lands to have finished their season by the time we arrived, and we expected to travel into that barren but uninhabited region unmolested. It was a small reprieve; we would be approaching the Great Abyss from a different point than I had months earlier. Much better than going through the Spirit Lands, where ghouls and strange creatures warped by the Abyss thrived.

  I closed my eyes. I remembered, faintly, the dead bodies surrounding me, and remembered cradling Nuala’s body in my arms, certain that I would be next to be torn limb from limb like the others.

  But they’d spared my life.

  I was a coward, but I couldn’t go down that same path again. I couldn’t face their ghosts.

  And there was something else. Something else I couldn’t remember. A . . . mountain. A pair of stones, glowing so brightly . . .

  The pain in my head sharpened, and I gave up, closing my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Nuala,” I whispered, fighting not to dissolve into tears. Whatever Odessa claimed about these shadows, I knew she could not be certain about their motivations. And if they wanted her here only to kill her once we’d arrived at the Abyss, then I knew that I would brave as many terrors as there were in all of Aeon to ensure she did not meet the same fate as the rest of my poor team.

  I woke a scant hour later to tugging at my hand. Odessa was awake, too weak to muster up any magic against me still, but she had resorted to carefully freeing herself from my grasp in the hopes I wouldn’t wake.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said, my eyes still closed. For as long as I was holding her, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Let me go,” she hissed.

  “Never.”

  “I’m not going back!”

  “You’re outnumbered and outvoted.”

  “You’re going to die!”

  My grip tightened around her hand, even as I fought to ignore how soft it felt against mine, or that not too long ago I could do more than just hold her. “And how do you know that?”

  “You’re going to die. I saw it.” It came out as a loud sob. “If I’m not with you, you’re all going to die. Noelle, Janella, Graham, Gracea—all of you. None of you will make it.”

  “How do you know that?” I repeated.

  “I—I dreamt it. Just now.”

  Odessa was too young to be having visions like Asteria did. Those manifested in the goddesses’ early twenties, and never before. “They’re not real. One dream isn’t proof.”

  “Ever since that first galla made contact—that’s all I’ve been seeing. Destruction, and death.” Odessa’s other hand wrapped around mine, squeezing. “You say it’s not real, but how can you know for sure? How can you know that the visions my mother sees aren’t figments of her imagination, or if they’ll ever come true?”

  “Asteria’s predictions have come to fruition before. She built Aranth on the strength of them. And your mother’s foretelling only happens when she’s awake, little goddess. That’s how we know that they’re more than dreams.” Asteria had also said that the galla wouldn’t harm Odessa, and the goddess was never one to say such things lightly.

  But not all the monsters in the wildlands were galla.

  “Lan—”

  “Does your ‘vision’ tell you that we’ll survive if you join us?”

  Odessa was silent, helpless.

  “We’re going back to Aranth. This is not up for discussion.”

  “I hate you,” she whispered, and rolled away.

  I exhaled loudly again, staring up at the ceiling. Hate me if you must, but at least you’ll still be alive to hate me.

  Our meal arrived shortly, Noelle pushing the cart in. Odessa ate poorly, refusing the rest after a few bites.

  Noelle had also brought along a map, which I soon spread across our lone table.

  “From what I could garner from Nebly,” Noe said, studying the contents intently, “we’re due to hit the maximum speed in roughly fifteen hours. We can’t go much faster, or the force of the wind would break the masts off within ten minutes. It would definitely destroy the riggings.”

  “Hopefully we don’t encounter that devil beast again at our next pass.” I snuck another glance at Odessa. She had curled up on the bed again, mostly hidden under the blankets, and was refusing to look at either of us. “Any more sightings?”

  “The beast’s put the caution back in Gracea, at least. She’s sending off light every half hour or so to make sure nothing’s lurking to ambush us. The winds are whipping fast around us, and the riggers have their hands full maintaining tension for the mast, but so far we’ve been very fortunate.” Noe, too, glanced at the huddled figure on the bed. “I’ve sent for enough hot water, milady. You could both use a bath.”

  Odessa said nothing when the buckets of water were lugged in and poured into the small tub at the farthest corner of the room, said nothing when Noe and the others left. She looked up briefly when I loomed over her, still looking cross. “What?” she snapped.

  “I know you’re mad, Your Holiness, but it would do you good to freshen up.”

  “So you can bring me back to Mother all scrubbed up in ribbons. No.”

  “If you’re not going to bathe, then I will.”

  Silence. I shrugged and opened the closet and found the small divider, dragging it in between the bed and the tub.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “I need some scrubbing myself.” I’ve never been shy about nudity. The orphanage didn’t have the funds for separate baths, so Noe, the other children, and I had splashed in common washrooms together for years. There’d even been a time or two, when we were young enough and the rains weren’t always as fierce, that we would dance naked along the streets and get in a free soak that way.

  It occurred to me that Odessa wasn’t used to such luxuries.

  I hung up my cloak, looked over my shoulder to see that Odessa had escaped the confines of the covers, and was staring at me with wide eyes. “I’d much rather you bathed first,” I offered, hoping her desire to be cl
ean would override her current anger.

  She glanced down at herself, at her stained dress. “I suppose,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. She stepped behind the screen, blocking my view of her and the tub. I moved toward the bed, stripping it quickly of its sheets.

  “Are—” Odessa’s voice rose from behind the barrier, a strange, tilting sound to her voice. I could hear clothes rustling. “What are you doing?”

  “Neither of us were clean when we lay down here, Your Holiness. Best to change the sheets.”

  “But—I was hoping—” I could practically see her embarrassment through the screen.

  “I’ll finish up here and step out to give you some privacy if that’s what you want, Your Holiness.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that!” A pause. A low sigh. “Never mind.”

  I was folding the blankets when I heard the sloshing of water, a soft breathy sound as Odessa slid into the tub, and I froze. I’d been too busy focusing on mitigating her ire, too concentrated on remembering that I’d bathed with Noe and so many others that I’d almost forgotten she was different, that she was naked. In the room. With me.

  A soft purring moan wafted from behind the screen.

  I nearly ripped the sheets in two from gripping it too hard. “I’ll be back once you’re finished,” I called back to her, wincing at how high my voice sounded. “Knock on the door to let me know when you’re done.”

  “W-wait!” More sloshing. Odessa had risen from the tub. “Why are—”

  I yanked the door open and raced outside, slamming it harder than I should. Then I leaned my back against it and stared out into the never-ending winds, at the black-hued sky above us. The cold bit into me hard because I’d forgotten to grab my cloak when I left, but hell if I was going back inside in either of our states.

  We must have traveled hundreds of miles east on the riverwind by now, but it was as dark as I’d always known it. I stared up at the sky overhead, hoping for a glimpse of stars now that we’d traveled beyond the impossible swirl of clouds that hung over Aranth, but to no avail. All I could see were small sparks of rushlights that Gracea was creating to light the ship’s path.