The Never Tilting World

by Rin Chupeco

  “Do you think we’ll find people?” I asked him. “Surely there were survivors.”

  “Depends how bad things have gotten in other parts of the world, I guess. We live under extreme weather, but I’d say it grows more temperate the farther out west we go.”

  The dolugongs kept butting their heads adamantly against the side of the rig for close to an hour before I realized why. “I think they want us to use them,” I said to Arjun, “to speed us up.”

  The boy eyed them warily. “They do swim faster than we can move.”

  “Let’s take them up on their offer and see. If we’ve got some rope, we could tie it around their fins.”

  It was Arjun who’d figured out how to keep the knot secure without injuring the dolugongs. I’d pointed out that their rough hides meant they wouldn’t be sensitive to rope burns, but he’d growled at me and said we were going to do it the right way. I hid my grin. As much as he liked to grouch about the dolugongs, he was even more attentive to their needs than I was.

  “Give Parrick the lead,” I suggested. “He’s the most observant of the bunch.”

  “You’ve already started naming them.” It wasn’t even a question. He was getting to know me well enough.

  The dolugongs took off as soon as we gave the signal. They were at least three times faster than the rig, and all we had to do was guide the wheel to mimic their direction, conserving the precious energy it took to funnel Fire gas for emergencies. Every now and then I’d direct a dolugong by tapping it lightly with a pipe, just to make sure we were still on course.

  “Guess this isn’t too bad,” Arjun said reluctantly, never one to admit he was wrong even when he was. Me, I leaned out the rig, threw my arms up, and enjoyed the blasts of air against my face, my short hair whipping about as I laughed into the wind.

  “How sure are you?” I asked much, much later. I had no idea how many hours had passed, because the day was just as bright as it ever was, but Arjun seemed fairly certain. “We’ve been moving for close to ten hours now,” he said, pointing up at the sun while he shielded his eyes with an arm. He changed into his Stonebreaker-crafted armor, the faint viridian aura around it giving him a fair amount of protection, even with the hatch open. “Notice anything different?”

  I squinted. “Not really.”

  “You think it’s in the same place it used to be when we started traveling?”

  “Now that you mention it . . .” It was still bright out, but the sun seemed to have moved just a little bit to the right. It also cast strange, stunted shadows against the sand.

  “The sun might not move anymore, but we’re moving. So the farther west we go, the farther east it’ll shift in the sky. And if we travel far enough, we may not even see it anymore. That’s the part of Aeon where the day meets darkness, I guess.” He had shut off the engines, allowing the rig to float peacefully along. The other dolugongs had already fallen asleep underneath the sand, dark shapes against the surface.

  The rig’s hatch was open. Arjun had erected a small tarpaulin over our heads bespelled with Stonebreaker shielding to ward off most of the harmful sunlight. He’d also handed me my food rations for the day: smoked whale meat, a bit of water from one of the heavy canisters he’d brought along, and also a few pieces of dried fish. Without the sand buggy, my own rations wouldn’t have lasted me this far. For all his previous protests that I wasn’t ready to face the desert alone, he was silent on the matter now, and I was inclined to be nicer to him for it.

  “I was wondering if I could ask you a question about your mother,” I began tentatively, nibbling on my dried fish because I wasn’t ready to eat Betsy-meat just yet, “if it’s not too personal. You said you were an orphan, but did anyone tell you about her?”

  “Yes, that’s a hell of a personal question.” Arjun shrugged. “Not much to say. Never knew her. I was raised by Mother Salla all my life, and she told me my mother was the leader of your aunt’s Devoted, supposedly. She died at the Breaking.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve good reason to believe my sister died there, too. And my father.”

  “I think Mother Salla mentioned you having a sister. I didn’t know about that until she told me a few days ago.”

  I sat up straighter, not bothering to hide my eagerness. “She knew? Did she tell you anything else about her?”

  He shook his head, and my shoulders slumped. “Sorry. If we ever make it back, that’s the first thing I’ll ask.”

  If we ever make it back. I liked his optimism. “And I’m sorry if I forced you on this trip.” He looked surprised, but I forged ahead. “You’re right. I’d have died out here on my own. You brought the rig, the water, everything we needed to survive. Your Mother Salla might not think I’m the enemy, but you weren’t under any obligation to help me. So why do it, anyway?”

  He ate the last of the jerky, swallowed, then cleared his throat. “It knew my name. The mirage. Said we were both supposed to be at the Abyss. Turns out the mirage might be an old friend of Mother Salla’s who didn’t survive the Breaking. She’s convinced this is important, and I trust her. And besides . . .”

  He looked around us, at the sleeping herd that had made us a part of their pack. “It was either live out the rest of my life in some goddess-forsaken desert, trying to eke out an existence with depleting water resources and food—or take a risk and see if you really could bring life back to Aeon. I got brothers and sisters back home, and they deserve a better world than this. And just because the people in charge screwed everything to hell and beyond doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to take back what we’re owed.”

  I nudged his shoulder with mine, then reached over to give him a hug.

  “What was that for?”

  “Nothing. Thank you for believing in me.” My mother didn’t trust me; most of the people in the Golden City didn’t want to hear what I had to say. But this nomad from a tribe who called themselves her enemy, who had every right to kill me where I sat, trusted me better than people I’d known all my life. “So you were looking for me.”

  He glared at me again, and I giggled.

  “You have no idea . . . how much I needed someone to listen to what I say for once, instead of just what they want me to say.” He’d opened up about his past, and I wanted to return the favor. “Mother doesn’t know I sneak out of the city, and she hates that I’ve been hanging out with the other mechanika. She tells me I need to learn how to manage our subjects but rarely gives me anything of importance to do. I’m expected to marry someone of her choosing and sire another daughter.”

  “Sounds as bad as I expected, then.”

  “I don’t know a lot about what happened between her and my aunt, about how the world broke between them. But I know it’s one of the reasons she forbids me from leaving. She’s afraid of what I might find out here.”

  “So she’s right pissed now, I reckon.”

  “Very much so, I’m sure. But I have to do this. There’s—I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something calling me west. Mother can run the dome without me. But as far as she’s concerned, the city is the only world that matters anymore; it’s where Aeon begins and ends. I disagree.”

  “You’re risking a lot based on just a gut feeling.”

  “You’re risking a lot based on the same thing.”

  “Good point. Guess I gotta stick around a little longer, then. You’ve got the tools and the brains, and I’ve got the jeep and the self-preservation instinct you obviously don’t.” He stretched out, ignoring my glare and swinging his leg over my part of the rig. “I’m taking a nap.”

  “Where am I going to sleep if you’re hogging all the space?”

  “You should have figured that out when you rebuilt this thing.”

  I waited until he started snoring, then clambered over to his side. He grunted and shifted to make space by his arm for me, proving he was more of an asshole awake than not, and I settled by his shoulder.

  As far as pillows go, he wasn’t too bad.

/>   Chapter Thirteen

  Lan in the Mist

  “MILADY,” CATHEI SAID MEEKLY, her face pinched with worry. “Something’s been bothering me all day.”

  “What is it?” I’d spent the greater part of the night among the bright new plants Odessa had coaxed into ripening, lost in my maps. From the campsite I could hear Noelle singing as she cleaned the weapons that had survived the journey. She had a beautiful voice.

  “Well, it’s the rigging, mainly.”

  “I’m not very knowledgeable about ships, Cathei.”

  “Neither am I, milady. That’s why—it’s all so peculiar. I tried talking to Gracea, but she wouldn’t listen. I just thought it odd how she would be outside the ship. It’s almost like she did it deliberately.”

  “Who did what deliberately?”

  She faltered. “I—I don’t know.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Is there a point to this, Cathei?”

  “No, I guess not. I’m sorry for taking up your time, Lady Tianlan.”

  “Wait.” I reached out to grasp her arm, healing the bruise there. “Who did this?”

  Cathei paled. “It doesn’t hurt, milady—”

  “Did Gracea do this?”

  “I have to go, milady.” But the girl’s face was still pinched as she walked away, and I set my jaw. Gracea took poorly to stress—but this went beyond proper decency. I made a mental note to announce to the crew later that abuses would not be tolerated on my watch. Lashing out when unable to get her way, it seemed, was a disgusting habit of the Starmaker’s. I didn’t blame the clerks and the crew members for being afraid to speak out, but I was hoping someone would come forward so I could have a valid reason to relieve her of command.

  There was already little love lost between us. My previous argument with Gracea had nearly deteriorated into a screaming match. I had no intention of traveling through the western border, and she was just as equally adamant that we must. Odessa’s unexpected harvest had only postponed the fight.

  The thought of our planned route made my hands sweat. Sumiko had offered to help again, but I had refused. There was nothing wrong with me, because it wouldn’t happen again. I wouldn’t let it control me again.

  I glanced down at my maps, spread on the ground. The maps of the riverwinds were now useless. Going forward meant traveling through the Spirit Lands, which stretched over half the night side of the planet.

  My hands felt clammy. I didn’t want to go there. But I couldn’t find any other path now that the riverwinds ended prematurely at the Lunar Lakes.

  I had to find another way. I had to. I had to. I—

  I heard voices raised nearby. Odessa was heading toward me, accompanied by Gareen. The goddess looked serene, but the boy was visibly sweating.

  “I trust that you’ll bring my request to his attention,” Odessa said sweetly. “I’d be very much put out if I see no changes by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll let him know r-right away, Your Holiness.”

  Gareen scurried off, but Odessa continued heading in my direction.

  “What was that all about?” I asked, curious.

  “It’s nothing. Just relaying some orders to Holsett and the others.” She hesitated. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “Yes. Maybe.” I rubbed at my eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m sorry. It was never my intention to mislead you.”

  It may not have been her intention, but she’d misled me all the same. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

  She offered me a bowl. “I grilled some maize for you. Why eat what’s left of the ship’s stores, when you can have something hot and fresh?”

  “Don’t you think there’s something strange here, Your Holiness? How did you develop this sudden skill for growing crops?”

  “I’m not trying to poison any of you.”

  “Was it another galla? Did it touch you again?”

  “I touched it,” she corrected me. “Nothing happened. It disappeared, and I could read the patterns around me.”

  My unease grew. “What patterns?”

  “They’re unlike any I’ve seen in Aranth. I felt them flowing through me before I knew it.” She raised her arm to encompass the flourishing verdant plants spread across the ground around us. “It was as easy as breathing. And I . . . no longer feel exhausted or weak like I used to. These galla . . . they want to help, Lan. I know it.”

  She was too trusting. That she wanted to see the best in people was something I loved about her, but these were shadows spawned from the Great Abyss. Her optimism was going to get her killed. “For someone so sure, you can’t seem to provide as much information about them.”

  She stamped her foot. “Why must you always be so suspicious?”

  “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t, Your Holiness.”

  “Then it’s time for my nightly healing. You’ve been negligent in that as of late.”

  That was true, so I set the maps aside. Odessa sat beside me, taking my hand and pressing it against her cheek. My heart slammed against my chest at her sudden closeness.

  “Get on with it, then,” she said softly.

  It was worse than before. The black hole inside of her had spread again. My hopes fell away. Why couldn’t I help her?

  I opened my gate wider, trying in vain to diminish the miasma within by even a millimeter. My head spun slightly from the surplus energy—to wield this much was too dangerous even for the experienced, but I had to try—

  “No,” Odessa said quietly, taking my hand away, forcing me to suck in air, for the patterns to dissipate harmlessly on their own.

  “It isn’t enough, Your Holiness.” I wanted her. I wanted her badly, but this was a mistake. I couldn’t be her Catseye if that meant I had to watch her wither away and do nothing.

  “Again with ‘Your Holiness.’ I’m sick and tired of ‘Your Holiness.’ You never used to call me that!”

  “No,” I said brutally, already hating myself as soon as the words spilled out. “I used to call you Ame.”

  She froze. “I’ll apologize for that every day of my life if I have to. Surely you know how sorry I am for it? Surely you know why I couldn’t tell you who I was?”

  Before I could say anything, she was on her knees before me, pressing the palm of her hand against my mouth. “And don’t you dare say it,” she hissed, her beautiful pale eyes all aglow with her fury. “Don’t tell me that it doesn’t matter anymore, because I know it does, whatever you say. I—” Her voice broke. “I can’t do what you can. I can’t just turn off my own feelings because there’s a job to do. Unless you never took it—took us seriously in the first place.”

  As if stricken dumb by this new revelation, she started to withdraw her hand. “If you thought I was just some fling, some girl you wanted to fool around with to get over your dead lover, then at least have the decency to say it to my face—”

  I grabbed her wrist with one hand, grabbed at her riotously colored hair with the other, and kissed her.

  She gasped, made a soft little whimper, and for one brief, horrifying second I wondered if I’d read her wrong. But then her arms came up around my neck, and she was kissing me back.

  She tasted just like I remembered, in those early days when we had nothing but bookcases and a bookseller willing to give his best customers their privacy. Her lips against mine, sweet and soft and shy at first, before her mouth parted and she was rocking greedily against me, giving as good as I did. Somehow, after I had started and she had permitted, she had found herself on my lap, heels drumming against the small of my back.

  She felt like a break in the clouds, how a glimpse of sun might feel. The desires I’d thought to stamp down and bottle up, the desires I was so sure I could master after becoming the Spire’s new guardian, after the hurt of Odessa’s subterfuge—the continued ferocity of those feelings stunned me.

  I should never have accepted this job.

  “How did you know,” I whispered thickly, finally coming up for ai
r, “about Nuala?”

  She blinked down at me, disoriented. “I . . . you looked so sad when you stared at her ranger badge on your wall. . . .”

  Ah. “Sometimes people can have a relationship and still have no lasting feelings for each other.” It was strange to talk about an ex while your current love was practically molded to your hips, but sweet Mother did I try. “Nuala and I were comrades first and foremost. It never moved beyond anything physical. I grieved for her when she died, like I did the other rangers. But you’re different. Did you know what I planned, when I asked you to spend the night?”

  She shook her head.

  “There’s an old custom among my mother’s people, one they took seriously.” I couldn’t stop running my fingers through her hair, entranced by the way the strands shifted from purple to pink to red. Learning these colors was another thing she’d denied me as Ame. “In the old Liangzhu tongue, yexu meant ‘we might.’ Accepting an offer of yexu meant the start of a courtship. Yexia—‘we are’—was a renewal of commitment to the relationship. Yezhiyao—‘we always’—was an offer of marriage.” I was no innocent—I’d had dalliances in the past, but Odessa was the only one I had ever contemplated this with, this desire to offer something formal and sacred and profound. “I’ve never offered that kind of commitment to anyone else. You’ve never been a fling to me. But I shouldn’t have asked you to spend the night. We were moving too fast. For all those romance books you love, you’ve never read one with a Liangzhu theme?”

  She shook her head again, still speechless.

  I gently disentangled myself from her. “I need to talk with Gracea about tomorrow. Our last conversation didn’t end well.” I shouldn’t have kissed her. Not after learning she was Aranth’s goddess; all that was going to leave me was heartbreak. She would get married in time, to someone who could give her children and continue Asteria’s line, and already I wanted to kill the man she would have to choose. “It’s getting late.”