Boundary

by Heather Terrell

  IX.

  Junius 25

  Year 242, A.H.

  “To the Vaults, Archon Eva. We do not want to be late for the Scribe. He runs a tight ship.” Theo suddenly sounds impatient with me. Tight ship? What in the Gods does that mean?

  I strip off my climbing gear, absurd boots, and outer layer of hides, and hand them to an Attendant, relieved to slip on my beloved kamiks. Wearing only my uniform of black sealskin tunic, coat, leggings, and kamiks, I walk alongside Theo toward the staircase. As he describes the precautions taken by the Scribe to preserve the records which I must studiously follow during my investigation, I hear a scream from the Yard.

  We race to one of the arched cutouts.

  Henrik has fallen down the side of the ice and clings to the ice wall by a single hand. How he found one of the scant handholds, I don’t know. Alexei, who has somehow managed to reach the peak, stares down at Henrik, clearly considering whether he should descend to help him.

  “Don’t,” Henrik shouts up at him.

  Alexei holds his position, thighs quaking with the effort of staying steady. I doubt Alexei would be much use to Henrik anyway; he looks weak. Theo and I watch as Henrik creeps toward the top. His progress is slow, with missteps and slips. But Theo motions for us to move on.

  I’m not so willing to leave. “What happens if Henrik doesn’t make it to the top? Shouldn’t we stay to make sure they’re safe?”

  Theo shrugs, but I see his face. The plight of Alexei and Henrik disturbs him. Still, he says, “You heard Archon Valteri’s punishment orders. Henrik and Alexei must stay at the top until the Midday Bell. It isn’t the Midday Bell, is it?”

  “So they must reach the summit and stay there for nearly three more bells—accident or not?” I blurt out, without thinking. I should be more circumspect; I sound as if I’m challenging Valteri’s decision.

  Theo’s gaze meets mine. “I read the reports from the Testing, and I know your history, Archon Eva. You know The Lex as well as any Lexor. Think on it. What does The Lex say about Archons who do not follow the orders of their seniors?”

  The Lex sets forth a panoply of punishments for Triad members who fail to abide by orders—from expulsion from the Triad ranks, to exile in the Boundary lands, to execution. Valteri could have been much harsher with Henrik and Alexei. But surely, they don’t follow The Lex to the letter in practice? Especially in training exercises?

  I wish my father was here. He wouldn’t let this happen. Or would he? He is the Chief Archon; this is his Hall in a way. I can’t imagine much happens without his approval. There’s so much he hasn’t told me. There is a side I don’t know of him, perhaps many sides. But how can I fault him? We are all keeping secrets.

  Theo takes me by the elbow. “Eva, this matter is not for us. The Gods have other work for you to do. More important work.”

  He is right, though not in the way he believes. Taking a deep breath, I glance out at the Yard one last time. Henrik continues to eke his way up the ice wall. I turn away and follow Theo to the Vault. I must.

  The climb up the Hall of Archons’ only staircase seems easy after my morning in the Yard. We reach another pair of solidly built Archon-Guards protecting the doors at the top. Theo says to them, “This is Archon Eva. She will have need of the Vault. You will allow her access.”

  “Yes, Archon Theo,” they answer.

  We pass under the doorway to the Vault. All at once I’m inside the brightest, most airy space I’ve ever seen. The walls soar toward a point at the center, illuminated and decorated by countless ice-windows. Crowded shelves border the room, and I feel giddy thinking about the treasures I might find on them. Lukas would be so thrilled at my good fortune.

  Lukas. I wonder where he is right now.

  A throat clearing brings me back to the present. The Vault Scribe sits at the center of this vast chamber like a spider in his lair. The wrinkles of his dour face even resemble the intricate pattern of a spiderweb and look almost as welcoming.

  Theo makes our introductions, but the Scribe—an Archon, but with a particular Lex-given task—isn’t one for conversation. Once Theo tells him the excavation in which we are interested, the Scribe wordlessly leads us to a set of shelves in the farthest corner of the chamber.

  “You will find what you need here,” he says, the first words he’s uttered since we’ve entered.

  The shelves overflow with leather-bound books, rolled parchments, and stacks of papers. There’s even a leather pouch that I’m guessing holds tiny scrolls sent back by bird from expeditions. I don’t think any of these documents will inch me closer to my true work, but the thought that Madeline might have written some of these words has me itching to pore through them.

  “Just these four shelves?” Theo asks.

  “These are the only records left from that excavation.”

  “A scant few. Most digs have an entire bank’s worth of papers.”

  The Scribe sniffs. “The last Scribe was not one for scrupulous conservation. We lost many during his tenure.”

  “Is the Vault organized chronologically?” I ask. I’m wondering where I might locate the really early documents. The ones I talked about with Lukas. It’s a question that Lukas would want me to ask. I feel like I’m always carrying on a conversation with him internally, like I did when I was beyond the Ring in the Testing.

  The Scribe shifts his gaze to me. “Why do you ask? You will have no need of documents other than the ones on these four shelves.” His voice is inhospitable at best.

  Stupid, Eva, stupid. I just drew his attention to me in the worst way possible. “Just curious, Scribe. My apologies.”

  Theo shoots me an inscrutable look. “An eager young Archon, Scribe. She’ll keep within her boundaries.”

  I know that Theo is protecting me. Why, though? Even though Theo seems an ally and genuine Mentor, I know I must be wary of him—of everyone except Lukas. After all, Laurence hand-picked Theo for me.

  I bow to them both. “Of course I will. I’m sorry if my question suggested otherwise.”

  My access to the Vault will not be as unfettered as I’d hoped. With the sharp-eyed Scribe’s gaze upon me, it will be even harder than I imagined to find the documents Lukas needs me to uncover.

  X.

  Junius 25 through Julius 6

  Year 242, A.H.

  My days training in the Hall of Archons assume a certain shape and structure. They become almost predictable. I only wish that the rest of my life was so certain.

  Mornings I spend in the Yard, experimenting with unusual equipment on the ice wall, tunneling into the ice cave to practice fortifications, and chiseling out artifacts from all manner of ice formations. After nibbling on some dried fish and spending a bell or two in the Conservation Chamber or the Chamber of Maps, I race to the Vault. There I lose myself in the past.

  Most days, I’m alone in my schooling, with only senior Archons Theo and Valteri for company. Henrik and Alexei appear occasionally, allaying my worst fears about their punishment, but I guess the other Archons are busy in their chambers or on digs. I never see my father after he leads the morning prayer, but I feel the presence of the Chief everywhere.

  Trying my best to ignore the watchful eyes of the Scribe, who’s beginning to look more like a vigilant, unblinking owl than a spider, I examine the scraps of paper on my designated shelves. They contain a treasure trove of maps of the excavation Site, grids of the crevasse digs, detailed journal entries of the artifacts found by Testors, and Chronicles. The bells spring by at a husky’s pace as I reconstruct history.

  Whenever I return home at the Vespers bell, I feel as disoriented as my first day back from the Testing. It’s hard to shift from working as an Archon recreating a hundred-year-old dig to the role of Maiden in dinner gowns, but day by day I’m becoming more masterful at the transition. I share with my eager mother what I can, but revert to the banal dinner conversation of my upbringing, as I’m ever mindful that Archons are barred from talking about the inner w
orkings of the Hall or planned excavations. Such matters are considered too sensitive for Aerie people’s ears, especially the Ladies and Maidens.

  Funny, I guess that rule doesn’t apply to me. I’m both Archon and Maiden, so in some ways I am neither.

  I have no wish to be torn away from the records of old to accompany the unpleasant Laurence on a frigid dig on the Frozen Shores. I am loathe for the final day in the Hall to end. But it must.

  “THIS IS LIKELY WHERE the Founder’s ship landed.” Theo points to a spot on the map I’ve drawn, around which I’ve laid out all the Relic finds from Madeline’s Testing year in a circle. He is pleased with the grid I’ve superimposed over the Site map.

  “The Founder’s ship?” My voice quivers with excitement. No one has mentioned it as the purpose for my investigation or for this dig. If Theo is right, then I have mapped out a most critical find. The Archons have long sought the precise location of the only Founders’ ship never found—and with it, the exact place where the Gods commanded our Founders to land during the Healing. A most Holy Site. If you believe in the Gods and The Lex, that is.

  “Yes,” he answers, a smug little smile appearing on his face.

  “How can you tell?” I ask.

  He puffs up a little. It’s the signal that he’s about to lecture me on some important point. Even though I’m still wary of Theo, I’ve learned much from him, so I prepare myself to listen with care.

  “The Relics you’ve marked in this circle all bear the same ice and water marks. Those marks show us that these artifacts froze here in situ, and did not simply wash upon the Frozen Shores and freeze there after traveling a long distance in the Healing like so many other Relics. If I am correct in this—and I’m certain that I am—the Relics had to come from the same place. The only possible place is a ship. A Founder’s ship.”

  “What an astounding discovery this would be,” I reply. “Are you certain?”

  He crosses his arms and rests them on his generous belly. It’s been many years since Theo subjected himself to the rigors of a dig. At first, I think he is going to chastise me for questioning him. Pareo is my duty, after all. But then that little smile appears again. “My dear girl, the Relics themselves tell us the story, if we only know how to look and listen …”

  As he explains the scientific clues that give rise to his conclusion, I’m reminded of Elizabet. The Relics I found in her pack told me a story, too, one that I Chronicled. But the tale I thought they told turned out to be very different than Elizabet’s true history. I must remain mindful of that now as I listen to Theo’s understanding of the past.

  But Theo abruptly stops. “This reminds me of another dig that was unexpectedly closed when the ice shifted. Scribe?” he calls out.

  I watch his ambling toward the table of the Scribe, who in turn sits and watches me, as he has day after day with those unblinking eyes. His gaze never needs to move; no one else has entered the Vault since I began coming here.

  “Can you find me the maps from the Testing of 126 A.H.?” Theo asks. “I think they might prove quite useful here.”

  The two men approach another set of shelves, leaving me alone for a tick. I sift through the documents on the table and decide to review a small leather book that sits among the unexamined records from the Testing of 102 A.H. With my gloved hand, I turn the little book this way and that. It reminds me of Eamon’s journal in shape and size. The book is well-worn, and the back cover has fallen off, taking with it several pages. Nervous that I might cause further damage, I open to the first page slowly.

  Words materialize. Something about them, something unusual, almost indescribable, catches my attention. Soon I realize that it isn’t the words themselves.

  No, it’s the way the words are written. The handwriting looks like that of a Maiden. In School, Maidens and Gallants are taught to form letters with subtle differences; most Schoolchildren wouldn’t even notice this unless they had a twin of the opposite sex. Like me and Eamon.

  The only female on this dig was Madeline. This must be her journal, even though I do not see her name anywhere on the pages. A sudden compulsion overtakes me, and I crane my neck to see what Theo and the Scribe are doing. Then I slip the journal under my tunic.

  XI.

  Julius 6

  Year 242, A.H.

  I race down the streets. By the time I make it through the front door and into the Feast room, my father is already incanting the Lex prayer for meals, “Hail Mother, Full of Grace, the Father is with thee …” Oh, no, the Feast has already begun. I have no choice but to attend it in my Archon uniform.

  I slink into the room and settle into my seat. Wincing at the noise my chair makes as I shimmy into it, I quickly arrange my hands in a prayerful pose. As if I’d been present since the start of the meal, I utter the sacred words along with everyone else at the table. “Blessed art Thou …”

  I keep my head bowed low as The Lex requires, but manage to sneak a peek around the table. Who have my parents invited to the last family meal before I leave for my first excavation as Archon? My aunts and uncles with their children. Jasper, of course, and his parents along with him. It wouldn’t be a Feast without my Betrothed. The gathering looks remarkably like the one before I left for the Testing, except Lukas isn’t lining the wall with the rest of the Boundary Attendants. Although I try hard not to think about Lukas with Jasper so near, it’s impossible.

  When my father finishes the prayer, he gives me a displeased glance but makes no comment about my late arrival. Of course my mother noticed it as well, but she’s too busy resuming a conversation with my aunt about the design of my Union gown. A Maiden is usually very involved in the sewing and embroidering of the ice-blue gown worn on her wedding day—and even spends months with family and friends at the hearth stitching away on the precious cloth created just for that occasion—but I haven’t had a spare tick for such work. Not that my mother minds having full control over the gown.

  In true Lady Margret fashion, the Feast begins with a splendid array of roasted fowl and bison, delicate late-spring vegetables from the Ark, and a hearty circular loaf of bread meant to symbolize the Mother. The meal finishes with sweets. I ignore the honey cakes. The banter is light and hopeful—so different from the night before the Testing. I think I’m the only one who feels dark, though I’m smiling.

  I notice Jasper stealing looks at me when the attention of the table is absorbed by the banter of one guest or another. I know he’s anxious about my departure; he’s said as much in our rare private moments. To assuage him, I catch his eye and smile. I need him calm and unquestioning.

  At the Feast’s end, my parents and I line up at the door to say our farewells and receive everyone’s blessings. Jasper is last in line—on purpose, I’m certain. His parents wait just outside the door, shivering in the cold darkness, but he waves them on. “I’ll be home in a few ticks.”

  Despite The Lex’s mandates about chaperoning the Betrothed, my parents excuse themselves under the guise of checking on the Attendants—a task my father has never, ever undertaken. It’s a silly ruse. I can’t believe my mother has persuaded him to leave us alone. And that makes me nervous, too. She must have her own reasons. I wonder if she also sees the love in Jasper’s eyes. I wonder if she hopes it will make me more a Lady and less an Archon.

  Jasper and I stand together, hand in hand, under the archway to the door. It’s the first time we’ve been alone since he waited for me at the base of the Ring.

  “When will you return?” he asks.

  “I haven’t been given a date. I’ll send word by hawk when I do.”

  “I would appreciate that. It will help with the waiting.” He smiles a little. “Of course, all the work I have to do to prepare for the Forge will keep me distracted. I can’t help but think that, with all your knowledge of The Lex, you’re the one who would’ve made a wonderful Lexor. Not me.”

  I smile back, but it’s bittersweet. “Well, the decision to try for the Archon Laurels wasn’t
by choice. That was by necessity.”

  “I know.” He pauses, and his face grows serious. “Please take care, Eva.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He lines up our hands. Finger to finger, thumb to thumb. His hands look so much bigger than mine. They’re softer and less scarred compared to Lukas’s.

  Lukas. I’m thinking of him again, though I shouldn’t be.

  Jasper pulls me close. The length of our bodies touch, and he wraps his arms around me like the warmest cloak. I feel his breath upon me, and his heart beats fast. I wonder if he can feel mine racing, too.

  I’ve imagined this moment many times since I called him my Betrothed the night at the Ring. I care about Jasper and respect him, but I had braced myself for the worst when it came to actually being private with him in a Maidenly way. I thought that the guilt I experience over deceiving him about my true Archon goals would make me feel awkward in his arms.

  I was wrong.

  He brings his face to mine. His eyes close, and he leans in to kiss me. I surrender to the unexpected softness of his lips and feel something spark within me. Something more than I felt that one night with Lukas. Much more. How can I feel like this with Jasper when I felt something with Lukas, too? I guess that I’m no Lex Maiden. But that is something that I already knew, isn’t it?

  Our lips start to part, and my heart beats more quickly. I lean into him, but he pulls back.

  My eyelids flutter open. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flickering over my tunic.

  I press my fingers to my lips. Did I do something wrong? I’ve never kissed a Gallant before.

  Jasper’s cheeks turn bright red. “I am so sorry, Eva. I can’t believe I ruined this moment. Something jabbed me.”

  My cheeks are red, too, and I feel flustered. What in the Gods is he talking about? Did I poke him accidentally? And then I feel the outside of my tunic and remember.