The Rebellion

by Isobelle Carmody

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  The other two divers gave me somber nods and went to the pumps. I followed Zadia to the water’s edge, my heart pounding with trepidation. We were up to our necks before Zadia pulled on her goggles. Then she put the mouthpiece of the hose between her lips. I did the same, resisting the urge to gag as it pressed against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Zadia made me breathe until she was satisfied that I was doing so normally; then she went under the water.

  I glanced back at Garth and Roland and the others standing on the rubble shore, faceless shadows with the light behind them. Forcing myself to be calm I, too, sank beneath the impenetrably dark surface of the water, and silence pressed on me from all sides.

  I was terrified into complete immobility and immediately felt myself to be suffocating. The only light came from the bulbs, and it seemed feeble and inadequate faced with all that liquid darkness. My heart thudded in my chest, and I was on the verge of catapulting myself back to the surface when Zadia floated up to me, her face pallid and greenish.

  She lifted a thumb and pointed upward, tilting her head in inquiry.

  I had never wanted anything so much in my life as to nod and rise into the world of light and sound and warmth. It took an immense effort for me to shake my head and point down. Zadia gestured to a rope running from the surface down into the lost depths; then, taking hold of it, she began to descend hand over hand.

  I followed.

  The sensation of weightlessness and the numbing silence were so alien as to feel like a dream, and I tried to summon the accepting passivity of the dreamer as we descended. I realized very quickly that the rope was only a guideline, for the weight in the belt dragged me gently downward without any effort.

  I concentrated on breathing calmly, looking neither up nor down, and so it was a shock when I noticed buildings appear out of the murk and then vanish again, as the feeble light shed by the glow bulbs brushed them and rendered them fleetingly visible. A strange pity filled me at the sight of those once mighty towers, green-furred with algae and hidden in endless shadow.

  We descended through the wavering tips of giant plants that danced in the slight currents, and as we penetrated deep into the watery forest, glimpses of buildings were less frequent. The plant foliage looked leathery, but it felt smooth and silky against my cheeks. Gradually, the stems thickened until they were as wide as tree trunks, and then we were at the bottom, hovering above what must once have been a Beforetime road. The water plants grew alongside the road, but not on it—as if the substance of the road was inimical to life.

  I watched as Zadia removed one of her glow bulbs and attached it to the end of the rope we’d descended. Then she swam to another rope, which ran alongside the Beforetime road. This time, she did not take hold of the rope but swam directly above it.

  Emulating her slow writhing movements, I followed, glancing back nervously to ensure the air hose was in no danger of being snagged. It snaked away and up until it vanished in the gloom and the wavering fronds of the towering water trees. I squashed another spasm of panic at the thought of how much water lay between me and the surface.

  Zadia had stopped to wait for me, her eyes calm but watchful behind the glass goggles. When I caught up, she turned and swam on.

  Eventually, we came to a clearing where a single level of a great windowless building stood half buried in rubble that had obviously fallen when its upper levels had been wrenched away. What was visible of the upper edge was jagged, and here and there, twisted pieces of metal protruded at wild angles. The ruin was also partly covered in a rampant waterweed.

  A path had been cleared through the broken stone and vegetation running down to a broad door, really little more than a metal frame with thick grooves that must have once held glass.

  Passing through the doorframe, I checked my hose again before paying attention to my surroundings. The glow bulbs revealed that the floor was a pale, shining stone flecked with something that sparkled. Like the road, it was smooth and bare, suggesting no plant had been able to gain a foothold. On the other hand, perhaps it was simply that there had not been enough time for anything to grow, since the foyer had only just been exposed to water.

  Zadia stopped, and I saw that we had come to the steps she had described, leading to the upper part of the foyer. I glanced up and saw the surface of the water shimmering not far above. Instead of swimming straight up as Zadia did, I made my way to the steps, put my feet on them, and walked up out of the water. As I climbed, the sound of water dripping from me and of my soft, slushing footfalls echoed as if in some vast cavern.

  Zadia had removed her mouthpiece and goggles, and I did the same apprehensively. The air was icy cold and tasted of metal, but there was nothing else to say that it had been trapped for so many years.

  When we reached the top of the stairs, the teknoguilder lifted the thong from around my neck so that she could remove the air hose. She tied both to an ornate post set into the floor and attached another bulb of glows to it. “They’re not long enough to stretch any farther,” she murmured.

  I looked around, squinting against the impenetrable darkness and wondering where the monument was.

  As if I had spoken my question aloud, Zadia pointed straight ahead. Only then did I see that there was something in the center of the foyer. That the monument was constructed of glass prevented its being solidly visible.

  “Are you all right?” Zadia asked, laying a hand on my shoulder.

  “I am,” I said.

  I went forward, and when I was close enough for the glow light to reach the monument, it suddenly took on a brilliant life, its many facets catching the light and throwing shimmering knives to illuminate all corners of the massive foyer. Now I could see flat soaring walls set with metal plates, and an ornate, vaulted ceiling high above. The foyer took up the entire floor of the building, and its only furnishings seemed to be the monument and a table constructed of the same stone as the floor.

  I walked forward, stopping only because I noticed that the ground around the plinth sparkled with millions of slivers of broken glass, and my feet were bare. A splintered crack ran its full length, branching off to where the head had been fixed.

  Zadia murmured that the monument had probably been damaged when the upper stories of the building were torn away. It was a miracle the foyer had not been destroyed and the statue crushed. There was no doubt in my mind that this would happen when the airlock failed.

  I walked around the statue.

  As Zadia had described, it was the figure of a young woman encircled by what looked to be some sort of snake. But when I saw its head, I sucked in a breath of astonishment, for surely the serpentish beast was an elongated dragon! But rather than being given a threatening mien, the dragon was curled about the woman’s figure protectively, and one of her hands rested gently on its scales.

  My hands, I thought, and shivered.

  The remainder of the glass was carved into a seething free-form mass of beasts that reminded me of the shawl Maryon and the futuretellers had made.

  “It is very beautiful,” Zadia murmured. “It is a pity it cannot survive, but I am glad to have seen it.”

  I took a few careful steps forward and studied the workmanship. Being created of glass, it was difficult to compare the style with that of a stone or wood carving. It seemed as much melted into shape as chiseled, but I felt fairly certain that the artist had not been Kasanda. There were similarities, but the work was raw and unpolished compared to the mastery revealed in the doors of Obernewtyn or in the Earthtemple reliefs. It was as if a talented student had emulated a master.

  “There is the name of the piece,” Zadia said, pointing to a glass plaque set into the floor.

  I read: “Through the transparency of now, the future.” Beneath this, in smaller lettering, were other words, and I knelt down to make them out. They read: “For one who has the courage to see what will come, and hope.” Under this dedication, in still smaller lettering, was the n
ame of the monument’s creator: Cassy Duprey.

  Cassy. I thought of the dark-skinned girl from my dreams. She had been an artist.

  There was a slight creaking sound, and I looked up at Zadia in alarm.

  “We should not stay too long,” she said, looking around uneasily. “It is not safe in here.”

  I had an image of the airlock giving way before a great dark gush of water that would smash the monument into lethal spikes of glass. But I refused to let fear hasten my examination of the monument. I knew I would never have another opportunity.

  Fian’s translation of a line of Kasanda’s message came into my mind: “That key which must be [used/found] [before all else] is [with/given/sent to?] she who first dreamed of the searcher—the hope beyond the darkness to come.”

  Surely the plaque was a paraphrasing of these very words, and if so, whomever the statue was dedicated to—the “one who” saw the future—was also the “she” referred to in Kasanda’s message. And if the creator of the statue and dark-skinned Cassy of my dreams were one and the same, then it was almost a certainty that the “she” in question was Hannah Seraphim.

  The trouble was that even if I could guess that Hannah had possessed some key, I was still no closer to learning its whereabouts.

  Unless the key was somehow contained within the monument.

  A thrill of excitement ran through me at the thought that Cassy might have sent the key to Hannah—perhaps secretively, given that Govamen must have been watching Hannah closely.

  I circled the monument for the seventh time, searching for niches and crannies. Unfortunately, if anything was concealed in or on the statue, I could not find it.

  I froze as a long, ominous cracking sound rent the silence, followed by the sound of something snapping. Then all was quiet again.

  “Elspeth …,” Zadia said anxiously.

  I glared at the statue helplessly, willing it to reveal its secrets; but it remained transparently beautiful, utterly mute. There was another creak, and cursing under my breath, I turned to Zadia and nodded my readiness to go. Looking infinitely relieved, she grabbed my hand and all but dragged me down the steps to where the air hoses were fixed. Thrusting one at me, she pulled her own about her neck and positioned her goggles. I did the same, all the while looking back longingly toward the nearly invisible statue. Zadia swam ahead, looking relieved to see me emerge through the metal doorframes. We swam back through the trees and along the black road, following the horizontal rope, collecting glow bulbs as we went. Watching the teknoguilder remove her belt and lay it in a weighted basket attached to another rope, I was already regretting that I had let fear pull me from the foyer.

  Zadia gave me a look of inquiry, and I realized she was holding on to the rope and waiting for me to remove my weight belt. I did so, at the same time turning to cast a final look around. It was impossible to imagine that once people had walked here and smiled and talked, yet so they must have done. Hannah had walked along this very street, and maybe Jacob Obernewtyn as well.

  Wearily, I turned back to Zadia, but she was no longer looking at me. Her attention was riveted to something over my shoulder, and I turned with a thrill of terror, half expecting to find one of the aggressive eels that dwelt in the depths.

  But there was nothing. I calmed down, and only then did I realize what she had seen. Through the wavering water trees, a great cloud of dirt and filth was visible in the distance, rising up along with huge, shining bubbles of air. I did not need Zadia to tell me that the airlock had given way.

  She gripped my arm with trembling fingers and pulled me to face her, gesturing determinedly upward. I nodded, and we released the rope and began to float swiftly up. Taking my cue from the teknoguilder, I caught the rope and rested whenever she did, but in what seemed bare minutes, we had risen above the swaying submarine forest. Then I could look above and follow the snaking hoses to a patch of light far above. It grew larger and closer, and white blobs appeared, resolving into faces peering into the depths.

  Bursting into the air, I spat the hose out and sucked in several long, sweet breaths of fresh air. Roland and Garth caught hold of me and dragged me none too gently onto the rubble island.

  Garth glared at me, his face a pasty white. “Curse you, Elspeth. You near sent me to my grave!”

  I tried to stand and found my legs would not support my weight. Roland caught me. “Are you all right?” he shouted, as if he thought I might be deaf as well as weak.

  “I … I’m fine,” I panted. “I just feel so … so strange.”

  “It takes you like that before you grow accustomed to it,” Zadia said. She was puffing, too, but she seemed not to be suffering the same dreadful lethargy that had suddenly overtaken me. The other divers rolled me out of the suit expertly and threw blankets around me.

  “A hot drink, and you’ll be good as new,” one of them said with a grin that told me my mad venture had made me one of them, despite my status.

  “We saw a great mass of debris and air bubbles and feared that the airlock had collapsed with you inside the building,” Garth said fiercely.

  “We were outside when it happened, obviously,” Zadia commented mildly, pressing a mug of steaming liquid into my numb fingers.

  Garth looked horrified. “Are you saying the lock did fail?”

  Zadia nodded, and Garth looked from one to the other of us in helpless fury. I gave him a bland look, thinking it served him right. I knew exactly how he felt, having been all too often faced with teknoguilder determination that disregarded all else but its own desire.

  “Let’s get outside,” I said. “I need to see the sky.”

  31

  IT WAS NIGHT when we emerged into the open, and I was reminded of the man from the cloister cells as I looked up at the stars. They dwarfed me, but I was glad to be diminished by their greatness.

  The waxing crescent of the moon hung above the trees. It was the same moon that had lit the clearing the night of Malik’s betrayal, the same moon that had witnessed the end of the Beforetime. No wonder it seemed so remote and cold. How small and ugly humanity must seem to it.

  “What in blazes is going on?” Garth muttered.

  I followed his gaze to the campsite, which lay just visible beyond a clump of trees. A huge bonfire blazed at the center of what seemed to be a great crowd of people.

  “The gypsies have accepted our invitation,” Roland said, and hurried ahead.

  “Hmph,” Garth grunted, though it was unclear if this signified approval or not.

  As we drew closer, I smelled cooking food and burning wood, and I could hear the thin strains of musicians tuning their instruments. Every sound and smell seemed vivid after the chilling graveyard that was the underwater city, and despite my fear that I had failed Atthis and Kasanda, I could not help but feel a thrill of joy that I lived.

  The minute we were in sight, Zarak came running over. “We have prepared the most incredible feast, but Swallow wouldn’t let anyone eat a morsel until you came. I’m starving!” He frowned. “Your hair is wet.…”

  “Enough talk! Lead me to the food, boy, for I am famished!” Garth declared, propelling Zarak before him.

  “Elaria!” a voice cried, and Swallow’s grandmother, the tiny white-haired healer, hobbled from the crowd to take my hands in hers. “It is good to see you; though now you look more Land-born than gypsy. And as troubled as ever.” Her eyes passed about me rather than resting on me—a disconcerting habit shared by every Twentyfamilies I’d encountered. I was glad for my sleeves, which hid that I no longer bore the gypsies’ tattoo.

  “It is good to see you again, Maire,” I said. “I had hoped to find you all at Obernewtyn when I returned from Sutrium.”

  She shook her grizzled head. “Twentyfamilies do not dwell within walls nor under roofs. We have lived like this for so long now that I suspect we could not live any other way.” She made a sweeping gesture encompassing sky, forest, and mountains. “What palace or mansion could better this roof, these w
alls?”

  A hand descended on my shoulder, and I turned to look into the familiar face and strange two-colored eyes of Swallow’s half sister, Iriny. For a few heartbeats, we stared at one another solemnly; then she said, “I never thanked you proper-like for saving me all that time ago.”

  “There is no need for thanks,” I said. “Especially when your people just saved our lives.”

  “Maybe that’s why I can finally thank you. It should have been said sooner, but it’s hard for us halfbreeds. And for a long while, I could not see the saving of my life as any good fortune.”

  “You were mourning your bondmate,” I said.

  “I will ever mourn him,” she admitted. “But I have learned to love life again. I am glad to have lived to see the end of the Great Divide and my brother assume the role of D’rekta.”

  “If only he would bond a maid,” Maire snapped.

  A faint smile passed over Iriny’s face. “He knows his duty, Grandmother,” she said fondly.

  “Elaria!” Swallow called, and I turned to see him on the other side of the fire with Dameon.

  “Go,” Maire said, giving me a little push. “He is eager to speak with you. Sit, and we will serve the food.”

  “I am glad to see you,” Swallow said, standing to offer me his own stool. Knowing a little of gypsy manners, I accepted, and he waved for another to be brought.

  “Well, now,” he said, reseating himself. “I have heard that these rebels have won the Land up to the Suggredoon, but they have lost what lies beyond it, and now no one may pass over to the west coast. A pretty mess.”

  I nodded. “They have lost it for the time being, but I do not think they have any intention of losing it forever. It will take some time, though—we may have no news until after next winterime.”

  “You are worried for your people trapped there?”

  “Very much so. But worrying won’t help them.”

  “We must trust to their courage and wisdom,” Dameon said. “If it is possible to survive, then Merret will find a way.”

  “Dameon here has been telling me of Dardelan and his charter of laws.” Swallow smiled at the blind empath, who felt his regard and smiled, too.