As I run up the stairs, I call for my Companion. “Katja!” I’ll need her assistance to make it in time. Even as I believe myself to be a strong, self-sufficient Archon, capable of surviving alone beyond the Ring, I quickly fall back into the ways of a Maiden. I wish switching back and forth was as easy as changing my clothes.
Katja races into my bedroom to heat the water for my bath. After she’s filled the tub and lit the fire underneath, she opens my wardrobe to ready a gown. She selects a brown dress, suitable enough for the Basilika with its somber shade but flattering enough for the Aerie crowd with an emerald-green trim that my mother says brings out the red of my hair and the greenish hue of my eyes. I nod my approval as I strip off my Archon uniform and wait for the bath to fully warm.
Waiting. How much of a Maiden’s time is spent waiting. Time stands still for the keepers of the hearth while their Gallants are out at their callings. This was almost my lot.
XXIII.
Augustus 1
Year 242, A.H.
We hear the chanting of the Basilikons before we reach the doors. My mother flashes me a stern look, but she needn’t. I know we are late. I also know the unprecedented tardiness is my fault. It took longer than I’d hoped to scrub the Archon residue off to reveal the Maidenly skin and hair underneath.
The guards betray no expression as they open the ice-doors to the Basilika. Arms linked with my parents, we walk down the aisle. Although I have walked down this aisle several times since the Chief Basilikon performed the Betrothal ceremony for me and Jasper, I haven’t felt so many eyes on me since that day. I feel as though I’m reliving the ritual—only without my Betrothed.
Jasper. He must be here. Only illness or duty would keep him from the Basilika on Basilika Day.
After we settle into our designated second-row bench, I glance to my right to see if he’s in his usual seat. Jasper’s family is accorded a bench level with our own, largely due to the Chief Lexor ranking of his uncle Ian. I don’t have to hunt for him. There he is, so handsome in his fur cloak and his blond hair freshly brushed. He catches me, and stares right back, a glowing smile breaking over his face.
I blush and look down. The Lex doesn’t prohibit his display of affection, but the boldness and the directness is unusual for the Basilika. I glance over at my mother and father, expecting stern glances, but I observe them exchanging smiles. They’re delighted with Jasper’s apparent affection. And my Maidenly blushing, no doubt.
The Chief Basilikon calls us to prayer. I find it hard to concentrate. Between Jasper’s stares and my internal debate about how to contact Lukas, the Gods aren’t foremost in my thoughts. Perhaps They won’t be offended. If They even exist, that is.
Thankfully, the Chief Basilikon performs a standard service—no postscript or sermons—and I’m able to make the Lex-required responses without much thinking. Before I know it, we’re chanting the final prayer together. When the service ends and the Aerie folk begin to mingle, Jasper strides directly over to me.
“Welcome home,” he says and takes my hand in his.
I shiver a little. His touch reminds me of our parting, and I feel myself blush again. How can I feel this way around him but still long for the sight of Lukas? Neither emotion is particularly Maidenly, and together, they are the very opposite.
“It’s good to be home,” I answer.
“I’ve missed you.”
I smile back at him. “And I you.”
“Why didn’t you send word that you were returning? I would have waited for you at your home.”
“I didn’t know myself until yesterday. There wasn’t time to send a hawk.”
“You returned from the Frozen Shores to the Aerie in one day?” His face shows his disbelief. After the long trek that we took to the Frozen Shores as Testors, a journey that took weeks and inflicted much misery and suffering, it is hard to accept that the travel could be so short. Particularly with what it means about our leaders.
“Yes. It is as we thought,” I answer, trying to hint at my meaning. I’m eager to share my observations with him. To see if he is indeed on my side.
He grasps at clarity. “Truly, it only—”
Jasper’s mother interrupts. “Eva, darling, we are so glad to see you safely home.”
Our parents engage us in their chatter. As Jasper and our fathers talk of his Forge preparations, our mothers pick up a conversation about my Union gown that seems to have started on an earlier day. My mother has showed me the lavish dress, and it appears that she’s spent much of my time away on its embroidery. Probably with Jasper’s mother at her side.
An idea occurs to me. “Mother, do you think that they would open the Clothing Keep for us today?”
She laughs, puzzled. “Why on His Earth would you need to visit the Clothing Keep today? Or any day, for that matter.”
“Well, you know that I adore that lovely light blue you chose for the Betrothal Gown?”
“Yes, dear.” Her voice is up to its Lady-pitch, because she senses I’m up to something. “Blue is the only suitable shade for a Union ceremony. The symbol of man and woman joining together just as mankind joined together with the will of the Gods, the God of the Earth in particular: Blue of the sky, blue of the seas, blue of His Earth.” She quotes The Lex for Maidens.
“The color is exquisite,” Jasper’s mother chimes in.
“Oh, the color is beautiful,” I agree, and I even mean it. “I’d just been hoping to accent it with a vivid blue. You know, like the rich waves of the Frozen Seas.”
My mother studies me. “I’ve never seen the Frozen Seas, Eva,” she says wistfully. How sad to think that she lives here on this island surrounded by nothing else but water, and yet she’s never laid eyes on the ocean. Again I am conscious of how strange I must seem to these Ladies, to have witnessed a sight previously reserved for men. And only a select few men at that.
“Nor have I. Can you describe it?” Jasper’s mother looks so eager that I almost feel bad for my deceit.
“It is entrancing yet ever-changing. At one tick, like the bright blue of the early spring night sky, and at the very next tick, like the blueberries they grow in the Ark for the Aurora festival.”
“The seas contains that many shades of blue?”
“Yes. More.”
The Ladies exchange a glance. My mother asks, “You have your heart set on this, my dear?”
“I do.”
The Ladies nod at each other. They approve of my suggestion and want to encourage my Maidenly interest in the Union gown. Up until now, I’ve been so focused on my Archon work.
“Must it be today?” my mother asks. “It’s Basilika Day.”
“I work as an Archon on every other day.”
“True. But surely I could choose the thread while you are working.”
“But that is my point, Mother. How would you know which shade to choose? You’ve never seen the Frozen Seas.”
After so many years with my strong-willed father, my mother knows when she has lost an argument. Although she rarely wields her power for self-serving reasons, she relents. “I’ll send word to the Clothing Keep.” She issues an instruction to the Attendant who’s been following along on our walk.
I know that no one will dare deny Lady Margret, wife of the Chief Archon. Perhaps today I will see Lukas.
XXIV.
Augustus 1
Year 242, A.H.
As we amble from the Basilika to the Clothing Keep, the narrow streets of the Aerie bustle with other Basilika Day strollers. Jasper’s mother and mine pay due respect to those we pass, pausing to nod at a fellow Lady or say a brief word to a Keeper’s wife, but their chatter focuses on my Union ceremony dress. For good reason, Ladies praise my mother’s handiwork as the finest in the Aerie, and the two women linger over decisions about where my mother should place a delicate snowflake design or inlay a rare crystal. I try not to let their excitement poison me with guilt over yet another deception.
Jasper walks beside me in silenc
e, pretending to listen to our fathers’ talk of the harvest, but we cannot be alone. He knows this, too. My consideration of the Union garb is all too rare, and my father doesn’t want to waste a tick of this time stolen from my Archon duties.
With a shrug of apology, Jasper allows himself to be led away by my father to a group of Lords and Gentlemen talking in the Aerie town square. It’s just as well. We will arrive at the Clothing Keep soon, and it is no place for a Gallant.
I smile sadly to myself. It’s funny how even I slip back into my old role and way of thinking. Once I shed my Archon clothes, that part of me is put aside, too.
Glancing up again to give Jasper a farewell wave, I notice that a large crowd has gathered in the town square. A much larger crowd than called for by the usual Basilika Day mingling. What is happening? I signal to my mother to wait a tick, and while she idles patiently in the street with Jasper’s mother, I step into the square.
There on the center dais, I see the reason for the crowd. There on the platform stands the gallows. Empty.
Strange. I’m certain that the gallows wasn’t there when I passed by the town square last evening. After I returned to my family home in the dead of night, someone must have been hard at work erecting the wooden scaffolding necessary for the horrific public punishment of hanging.
Why was the gallows built so quickly? It’s rare for a hanging to take place on Basilika Day; only the most heinous of crimes, those in most need of urgent punishment, are permitted on this day. What crime could have necessitated this?
My stomach churns at a nauseating thought. Could the timing of the gallows be related to our return from the Genesis Site?
“Eva,” my mother calls from the street.
I ignore her, mesmerized by what’s happening on the dais. The Ring-Guards lead a stumbling man up its stairs. A rough-hewn bag covers his face, so I cannot tell his identity. Still, I can see from his clothes that he is Boundary. My pulse quickens. By the Gods, I pray it isn’t Lukas. Could someone have found out about our visits and communications? Wouldn’t I have been told, as I’d be complicit?
“Eva!” she calls again. This time, her voice bears no Lady-quality. But I cannot turn away no matter what price I’ll pay with her anger. I must find out the criminal’s identity and Lex-violation.
A Herald steps onto the dais. “People of New North, hear this!”
A hush falls over the assemblage. People crane their necks and stand on their tiptoes for a glimpse at the condemned.
“A terrible crime has been committed against the Aerie!” the Herald continues. His rich voice seethes with contempt. “This Boundary”—he practically spits the word—“was given a gift. He was allowed to rise far above his birth and bequeathed a precious task by the Archons themselves. One entrusted with a sacred duty on a sacred Archon Site. A fact that makes his Lex-breaking all the worse.”
I stop breathing. This must relate to the Genesis Site. But how? I feel a quick flood of relief that this poor soul can’t be Lukas, but am just as quickly sickened by the notion that Archon Laurence might have orchestrated the hanging.
“This Boundary was charged with returning to the Aerie priceless Relics found on an excavation only days ago. Instead of securing all these Relics within the safety of the Hall of Archons, the Ring-Guards found one of those precious Relics in his bag as he made the Passage back out into the Boundary Lands.”
The crowd gasps. Shouts of “Thief!” echo from the more zealous Aerie. Other than outright murder, The Lex contains no greater offense. But I find the accusation almost impossible to believe. The Boundary are gifted at many things, particularly at concealment from the Aerie. If this Boundary indeed took an item from the Site, no Ring-Guard would have found it. This must be Laurence’s doing.
More outraged shouts ring out from the throngs of Aerie. Some call out for the criminal’s immediate death. Other cry out for justice, which is basically the same thing. One lone, loud voice screams, “What is the Relic that he stole?”
Prepared for this query, the Herald reaches into a sack and steps forward. He thrusts out over the crowd a single object. The hooting and jeers grow even louder—uncertain of the nature of the Relic but certain of the Boundary’s guilt.
They might not know what the Relic is, but I sure do. It is a boot. A hard, inflexible climbing boot from the pre-Healing days. The sort we used for training in the Hall of Archons. The sort of which we saw no evidence at the Genesis Site. The useless sort that no right-minded Boundary person would ever steal. As I watch the Guards wrap the noose around the Boundary man’s neck, it hits me. I realize precisely what this hanging is. A message from Laurence to me to stay out of his way. And in that sudden moment, I know with dread certainty that he was the one who ransacked my iglu and left the message for me back at the Genesis Site as well.
XXV.
Augustus 1
Year 242, A.H.
I am shaken by what Archon Laurence has wrought. I can barely maintain my composure as I continue to stroll toward the Clothing Keep with my mother and Lady Charlotte. Thank the Gods they’re so wrapped up in the gown that they barely take notice of me. I’m not even sure if they noticed the hanging. Besides, deriving pleasure from such gruesome justice is not behavior befitting a Lady or Maiden.
The Clothing Keeper stands at the threshold. As he steps aside at the open door, he smiles broadly, proud to display his finest fabrics and threads. Only the best of his wares are available to a Lady of such high rank. While I’m certain that he’d rather be spending his one day of rest doing something else, I know that he’s eager to please the uncompromising Lady Margret. Her word is nearly tantamount to The Lex in all things concerning the hearth and home.
Despite the overcast day, the Keep interior is bright. The Keeper has arranged for nearly a dozen torches to be lit around the room. The front table is already laid out with many threads in varying shades of blue. Someone was hard at work in the ticks between our summoning and our walk from the Basilika. But the Keeper is alone. Where are the Attendants? I came here for Lukas, after all, not to improve my Betrothal gown.
“My Ladies.” The Clothing Keeper bows and gestures toward the threads.
We approach the table. The array is sumptuous, and I cannot keep from fingering the silken threads. The Keeper is reputed to have unparalleled skill with the dye, and his reputation is warranted. The range of blues is enormous yet subtle. I see sky blue, azure, cobalt, aquamarine, navy—more colors than I have names for.
“They are lovely,” I say.
“Beautiful,” Jasper’s mother echoes.
“Is there one in particular that catches your fancy, Maid—” The Keeper isn’t certain how to address me. “Arch—”
My mother interrupts, ever happy to display her knowledge of Lex protocol. “Eva is here as a Betrothed today, so it’s best to address her as Maiden.”
“They are truly exquisite, but …” I force my voice to be slow and hesitant.
“But what, Maiden Eva? I am here to serve you.”
“Do you have any others?”
“Any others? Eva, I’ve never seen so many blues. Not even in the midwinter night sky.” My mother punctuates her remarks with an embarrassed chuckle. Her voice is back up to its Lady-pitch; it always rises this way when she’s making up for my behavioral lapses. She probably doesn’t want Jasper’s mother to think I’ll be a persnickety wife.
“Maybe a thread dyed with a berry grown elsewhere? Beyond the Ring? Or perhaps in the Boundary lands?” I offer.
“The Ark grows the finest berries in New North, Maiden Eva. The Lex tells us so. And I only use Ark berries.” The Keeper’s smile falters for an instant, unsure of why he’s being forced to defend his practices. I can’t blame him.
“Hmm. There is a certain blue that I’ve seen in the glaciers bordering the Frozen Seas, a color that makes brilliant the waters. I would love to see its hue on my Union gown. Perhaps you have something like it here?”
The Keeper glances at t
he Ladies. “I’m not familiar with that shade, Maiden Eva. I have never been beyond the Ring.”
“Ah,” I say, as if that explains the absence of this particular thread. “Might I see your dye shop?”
He laughs a little at my suggestion. I’m guessing he’s wondering if it’s a joke, as I doubt any Lady or Maiden has ever asked to set foot in the back of his Keep. “My dye shop. Whatever for, Maiden Eva?”
“Perhaps if I look at your dyes, I might be able to find that exact shade. Or guide you to combine two dyes that might approximate the color on which I have my heart set.” I glance at him. “I’ve seen this blue beyond the Ring.”
The Keeper bows low. It is the bow of a Keeper to an Archon, not the bow of a Keeper to a Maiden. In a tick our roles have changed.
“Ladies?” He gestures for us all to follow him into the Keep.
My mother’s eyes are ice as they meet mine for an instant. Then she turns to the Keeper and titters, “Oh, no, Keeper. We couldn’t possibly. That wouldn’t be a fitting place for us.”
The Keeper is no longer smiling. Now he just appears confused. Again I can’t blame him. Nobody is sure of the next move. If the interior of the Clothing Keep is unsuitable for my mother, how can he possibly lead her Maiden daughter back there unescorted? The new rules concerning the Maiden-Archon Eva are confounding.
My mother sighs. “Keeper, you have my permission to take Maiden Eva to the back.” She squares her shoulders. “After all, she has seen many things that most of us have not—Lady and Lord alike. Like the Frozen Seas.”
I smile at my mother. Her flash of anger has melted. The pride there is real. All at once, my throat tightens, and tears sting the corner of my eyes. I’ve never, ever witnessed her so proud of me. I square my shoulders right back. “I’m ready.”
As the Keeper leads me to the farther reaches of the Keep, I note a distinct change in the craftsmanship of the interior. Instead of the heavily polished stone and intricately carved wood found in the Keep’s public room, this area, typically seen only by assistant Keepers and Attendants, is made of ice, rough-hewn rock, and timber only when necessary. No adornment here.
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