by L. W. Jacobs
Ella screamed in frustration as Arlo hauled her back to the rooms. She’d been so close—she could still feel her resonance, just out of reach. The ballroom was open, the music was playing, but she didn’t have the power to step in.
Arlo kicked open the door to her room and threw her in. Ella skidded against the far wall and lurched for the door, furious. “You can’t do this to me!”
The door slammed shut, the lock clicked, and rage blackened her vision.
Ella fought it down, fought down her panic at the closed door. She needed a plan, had to be ready when they came back. Winterfood. She needed mavenstym or wintermelon or something, to power her resonance, to slip out when the door opened.
There was nothing in the room. Nothing but her and her cot and—
And her yura.
She was out of uai, but still—what other choice did she have? They would take it when Prula came back.
“Kellandrials,” she gritted, digging the remaining balls of yura from her waistband, “you better not have made this up.”
Ella, no, LeTwi called, his voice distant. You could die!
“Or I could get free,” she gritted, and stuck eleven balls of yura in her mouth.
The taste was cloying, overpoweringly bitter and earthen as she chewed the mouthful of moss. Ella suppressed her gag reflex—she needed all of it, every last bit of whatever yura did. Who knew how much it would take to work? If it would even work with her power gone?
For a second, she thought nothing would happen—that Kellandrials had been lying, or it wasn’t enough yura, or she’d missed some piece of what a yura overdose would need to work. Then her bones started shaking, power thrumming through her, the massive dose of yura unearthing hidden stores of uai in her, like it was pulling from her very bones. The resonance struck of its own accord, and Ella felt the breeze still, saw the flapping curtain freeze against the window. The air was thick as mud around her.
Was this it? Was she free of yura? What should she be feeling—should she be trying to please her ancestors? Please LeTwi?
LeTwi said something, but it sounded like a toddler’s garble.
“What?”
Shancetrs. Shot tru.
She shook her head. “What do you want? What do you need from me?” If Tunla was right about ancestors controlling the resonances, LeTwi held the key somehow. But would he tell her what it was?
No. S’old wives’ tale. Achuri nonsense. You know ish not true.
Ella felt her skin slack, the resonance start to fade. She was losing it. “No!” Why was it leaving? What had she done? Ella heard voices in the hall. “But what about Tai? His abilities are more than just an old wives’ tale.”
No! Meaningless. Meaninglesh anshestors.
The vibration returned, skin tightening against her chest. Why? Because she’d argued with LeTwi? It was worth a try. “Yes, I know the ancestors are meaningless, it’s all meaningless and there’s no truth, I get it that that’s your thing. But you still can’t explain Tai.”
Tai—taking yura. Why he had so much. All fake—
The resonance faded again, voices in the hall rising as time sped. Prula and Arlo coming for her. She had to be able to slip when they walked in. Or who knew what they—what Odril—would do to her? She had to keep fighting her voice, if that’s what was working. Was pleasing LeTwi defeating him in argument?
—all meaningless, he was saying. Odril believes in power and money, and Tunla believes in ancestors, but they’re both ultimately meaningless. The world is—
“Unfortunately,” she cut in, “the whole power-money thing is very real for Odril, just like ancestors are real for the Achuri.” She heard the lock turn in the door and pressed on, desperate. This was her last chance. “It’s very nice that it’s meaningless to you, but to him, it means that he needs to lock women into illegal contracts, or deny them food or—wait.”
Something clicked in her brain, and she felt the hum come back, saw the door slow in its swing open. “Real for him. Just like ancestral spirits are real for Tunla—and LeTwi’s postulate on no ultimate truth is real for me. What makes my belief that there’s no truth any more real than their belief that money or spirits are the ultimate truth?”
S’courage. You’re courage. He sounded stone-dreamy.
Ella sat down hard on the bed, Prula forgotten for a moment, air thick around her. “My truth is just as real as their truth. I mean, if there’s no ultimate truth, then even that ultimate truth isn’t ultimately true, right?”
No—no, ish true—
“No,” she said, standing up again, hearing LeTwi as though for the first time. “It’s not true, or it’s only true because I decided it is. And I don’t think I’ve actually believed it for a long time—you believe it. Like some kind of ancestral spirit that’s only pleased by confusing me.” Her eyes widened. “And you never give me power—but I have it right now, because I don’t believe you anymore.”
No—ish all true—Ella— His voice was losing its educated accent, sloughing into something simpler, more basic.
She shook her head in the thick air. “All true now, huh? Come on, LeTwi. It’s only true if we decide it is, and your whole thing about other people being confused, about there being no ultimate truth, it’s just another confusion. That was my ultimate truth because you convinced me it was, but that’s scatwater. That’s you taking advantage of me. And I’m done with it.”
Wait—
But there was no stopping the change now that she’d realized the truth. LeTwi had been using her. Using her uai? Ella’s skin stretched tight, resonance beating like a drum in her heart. She felt a peeling away, the lightening of a load she hadn’t known she was carrying, like pulling off heavy bracelets. And with a last cry, LeTwi, or whatever he was, was gone.
She was left with a clear mind, a beating resonance, and a brawler frozen halfway into her room.
She turned to the door, marveling at how slow it moved—almost not at all. She’d never slipped this deep. Gone was the worry, gone was the rage of a few moments ago. She’d done it. The resonance was hers now—she’d pleased her ancestor or argued him down or whatever she’d done, and no one could take it from her. She was a timeslip.
So, she stilled her resonance and let the door swing wide.
Prula strode in, eyes like knives. “What in the hell were you thinking, trying to run out of here like that?”
Ella struck resonance again and Prula’s mouth slowed to near motionlessness. “I was thinking,” she said, strolling through air like honey and pulling the key from Prula’s neck, “that perhaps I’d take a break from Odril’s employment.”
Prula’s face registered no response, and Ella shuddered for a moment—had she actually stopped time? But no—there was movement in the woman’s face, it was just glacially slow. Same for Arlo.
“You,” Ella said, stripping the cot with quick motions, “are likely to be more trouble, and I have a mind to see if any of the other women want to escape. So, I apologize for this.” She took his keys, then tied the sheet around his legs with quick motions. It would hold him for a few moments—moments long as hours for her.
Ella ran out the door, locking it behind her, pushed through the frozen office room, and unlocked the bottom door. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the stairs and tried Prula’s key.
It fit. Ella swung the heavy door out to reveal a sunlit stretch of cobbled road, men and women frozen in their daily tasks, a wind-caught skirt frozen in flight.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen: freedom. The world, once again hers to conquer, and a new power to do it with. But one more thing to do, before she ran. Ella turned back into the office, bounded to the bottom of the stairs, and stilled her bones.
Once again, her sudden appearance brought a chorus of gasps from the calculors working there. In the backroom, Arlo shouted, followed by a thud.
“I have to keep this quick,” Ella said. “I know many of you have been here a long time, and maybe you do
n’t see a better way, but what Odril’s doing to us isn’t right. I’ve got the keys, I’ve got a plan, I’m leaving, and any of you that want to get out are free to come with me. Or go wherever you want to.” She looked especially at Tunla, who was staring at her, poleaxed.
Another thump sounded in the back, and Prula’s voice, muffled by the bedroom door. No one moved.
“Anyone?”
One by one, they turned back to their papers, while Prula called and Arlo beat on the locked door. A deep sadness rose in Ella, that these women couldn’t take freedom even when they were offered it. That the world should be so twisted, the Councilate so powerful, that they had no better options. Tunla lowered her gaze last of all, just as a loud crack announced the bedroom door breaking behind them.
With a nod, Ella clenched again, scene freezing, and ran to scratch Tunla a brief note before bounding back up the stairs. There was no way to tell how long her new uai would last—best to get far away from Arlo. But where?
Emerging into the daylight, she spotted Tai crouched across the street, talking to a stocky girl leaning on crutches. Ella wove through the frozen traffic, still in awe at her own power, then squatted down next to them.
And let go of time.
The street roared to life, and the girl Tai was talking to nearly fell over, cursing. Tai noticed her a moment later, and kept his cool a little better, though his eyes did go wide. “Ellumia,” he said. “You’re—out already?”
She laughed. “Feels like a long time to me.”
Tai goggled. “Did you take all the yura?”
She grinned. “I did.”
“And it worked?”
She slipped time and reappeared on the far side of them, the stocky girl giving another start.
“Prophets,” Tai breathed, then seeming to remember himself indicated the girl. “This is Aelya.”
“Who’s this biawelo?” Aelya scowled.
“Someone I know.”
“Someone he helped,” Ella said. She glanced at the brick building across the street—with time moving at normal speed, Arlo would be here any second. “Walk with me?”
“We were just about to anyway,” he said, nodding to the girl.
Ella took a breath as they started walking. “I hate to ask for more help, but is there someplace safe I can go? Until I can earn some money to pay you back?”
“You lent her money?” Aelya’s scowl deepened.
Tai grimaced. “I can’t…really think of a place. Not for…”
Not for lighthairs. Right.
“Just go to Newgen.” Aelya waved a hand in the direction of the enclave, its towers visible even here. “They’re not gonna let another lighthair go homeless.” Her tone implied everything she didn’t say about what lighthairs let darkhairs do.
Behind them, an angry shout told her Arlo was out. “Right,” she said. “Well. I’ll see you in three days’ time.”
Ella froze the street tough midstride and ran for it, air so thick it felt like swimming. She ran until she was five or six streets away and her spine was starting to ache. Not wanting to make a scene by suddenly appearing on the street, she ducked into an alleyway and unclenched. Then sat there a moment, panting, remembering how much work it was to do anything in timeslip, like running underwater. Using uai always made her spine ache too, but at least it wasn’t the bends wafters got, or the intense pain brawlers dealt with.
Ella stood, smoothing her skirts—fortunately freshly washed yesterday—and stepped out into the street. A light breeze blew, the sun was high overhead, and light- and darkhaired men went about their day like everything was right with the world. Maybe it was. She had no money, no place to go, and no friends for a thousand leagues, but she was free.
She would figure the rest out.
15
It were a near thing for a while there. Mecking Seinjial had all the iron in the world to make swords and spears and mail, and shattering castles besides. But they didn’t have the bloody croup, and cleanup was easy after we gave it to ’em.
—Councilate army veteran
Tai goggled as the lighthaired woman vanished in a clap of air.
“Prophet’s piece,” Aelya breathed. “Is she slipping?”
“That’s what she said.” Timeslips were rare—there were just two in all Ayugen’s gangs—but Tai had never seen them clap air when they slipped. Stains.
A brawler ran after her a moment later, thrumming resonance shaking his bones in passing.
“Looks like the biawelo’s in trouble,” Aelya said. “And you lent her money?”
“Well, yura,” Tai said.
“She’s not pretty enough for that,” Aelya scowled. “We got kids to save, remember?”
Tai cocked his head. “Are you…jealous?”
“Hell, no. Stains, no.” She looked straight ahead, cheeks reddening.
“You are jealous! Aelya, you’ve got a girlfriend! What do you care if I notice a lady every now and then?”
“I care if she’s a mecking lighthair, is what.”
“Come on.” Tai said, starting down a sidestreet. “That brawler’s going to realize he can’t catch a timeslip and want somebody to blame.”
Aelya scowled and came after him, crutches clacking. “Right. I’m not really shaking for a run-in with Tulric, either. Though I will bash his face in at some point.”
“More payback?” With a twinge he thought of Marrem and her talk of finding a better way. The healworker was right, but what other way was there?
“If that’s what it takes. Where are we going, anyway?”
Tai was cutting a sharp angle through Hightown, headed for the Sanga bridge. “Forest, I thought. The rebels asked to meet at sundown, and we’ve still got a lot of day to kill, so…”
Aelya smiled. “Just like old times.”
They’d met in the woods, three years before, Tai with a tiny Fisher beside him and no idea where to go, Aelya on the run from the Maimers after she’d outgrown her begging age and they’d refused to let her guard for them. “Just like old times.”
They holed up in a hollow on the west side of the cleared plains above Ayugen, sharing the elk meat and millet cakes Tai had traded for.
“So, you really think these rebels are the best thing to do?” Aelya asked around a mouthful.
Tai pushed a twig with his foot. “I do. Aelya, you haven’t seen that camp. There’s no way—I mean, I couldn’t even touch it using all my resonance. We need an army to get in there. And unless we wanna take Hake’s advice and leave the kids locked up another year while we save up enough to buy an army, I think they’re the best chance.”
“And the rebels agreed to help you take it down?”
“As soon as they get big enough.”
She shifted. “And in the meantime, we get to kick lighthaired meckrings on their side?”
“You’re not kicking anyone’s ring until that wound heals. Speaking of which”—he dug in his waistband—“Marrem said you were supposed to take these.”
“Mecking herbs,” Aelya spat. “Probably not a twig of dreamleaf in there, either.” But she took them and soon enough fell into a doze.
Tai passed the time watching the city and the fields, visible through the edge of the trees. Farmers still worked, smoke still rose from chimney stacks, but everything felt different somehow. To be here, without any of the kids, without anyone to take care of. To be joining a rebel group, to be fighting the Councilate head-on, like the Achuri had done years earlier. To not be afraid of his resonance, for the first time since he’d discovered he could use it.
Hake stirred at this, but Tai ignored him. Some things were different, though—the giant stone walls of Newgen, just visible to the west. The new road they were building into the forest, Achuri work crews felling trees under lawkeeper eyes. The fine clothes on his back and the bulging pocket of yura he’d kept. It was funny, though, how unimportant yura seemed now. Money wouldn’t get his kids back.
Which made him think about the prison
camp. He only had vague memories of attacking it, mostly of the steel-armored Titans guarding the place. How were they realistically going to get past them? He needed to take another look, to make a plan.
Aelya stirred beside him, sat up. “Mecksickles. There was dreamleaf in there.” She yawned. “Time to go?”
“Soon. I want to get another look at the prison camp first.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And leave me here?”
“Aelya, you’re on crutches.”
“So?”
So, they went together, the woods scavenged of underbrush and kindling this close to town. Aelya kept up doggedly despite the sheen of sweat on her face. After a thousandpace or so, the forest ended abruptly in a wide clearing. The ground was dotted with stumps, gangs of men working on the far side to fell more trees. A small fort sat in the middle, logs stuck vertically into the ground and tied together at the top, the twelve Council House sigils worked in iron above a closed gate. The clearing stank of human waste, and cries sounded from inside the walls, though whether of pain or exertion he couldn’t tell.
A giant pile of logs sat next to the fort, nearly as high as the walls, prisoners working there to clean branches and bark from them. “The meck do they need all that for?” Aelya asked.
Tai was no carpenter, but could see from the amount of logs it would dwarf the current structure. “Barracks for the army? Another Newgen? If that’s just for arrested people…” He let the thought trail off, a cold feeling in his stomach.
“They could fit the whole city in there. Stains. Let’s get out of here before they see us.”
Tai took another quick look around, burning the place into his memory. Soldiers on the walkway. Guard towers at each corner. All wood, one gate.
“Okay.”
With these walls, and this many soldiers, they would need—what? Five hundred men? He was no strategist. “It just kills me to think Fisher and the rest are in there, just over that wall.”
She eyed him. “You’re not gonna go all Blackspine again, are you?”