by Kerstin Hall
The scalpel nicked my thumb, and I cursed under my breath. A thin line of red welled up just below my nail. It stung.
“I’m seeing him again later this morning,” I said, sucking the cut. “Millie’s plan. Maybe I’ll discuss it with him then.”
My mother’s face was unchanging.
I sighed and drew back the shroud. Her legs were a mass of scars, neat cauterized grooves chipped into her calves. I knew exactly which scar was the first. Right above her ankle bone, the white indentation bright against her deep brown skin. Even then, I had been precise.
My hand was steady. I cut a neat rectangle into her calf, less than an inch in length, and drew out the hot flesh. My mother did not even twitch. Her expression remained as serene as ever. Blood ran from the wound, but I used the last lace in my body to tie the skin back together. The binding would dissolve in a few hours, but the Martyrium staff would cauterise the cut long before then.
I put the bloody sliver into my mouth and swallowed it without chewing.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said softly. “Sleep well.”
There was no need to take a spare vial for emergencies; I would not have to leave the city again this week. I walked over to the basin and dropped the scalpel inside. The nurses sterilized the blades every night, replaced the water, and ensured that our mothers were clean, tidy, and fed. I washed my hands and made my way down the stairs.
“May the Eater watch over you,” intoned the Acolytes at the door.
Most of the fog had cleared and the day was brighter. The third bell rang as I reached the bottom of the hill, by which time Ceyrun had roused.
Street vendors lit their stoves, tossing diced peppers, onions, and fruit into spitting skillets. People moved briskly, but many paused before the Resounder offices to buy a copy of the broadsheet. The Resounder would have long gone out of print if it relied entirely on factual reporting, but people didn’t seem to care much about that. A young woman whistled while she swept the pavement; carriages rattled over the streets.
Pearl Boulevard bisected the city, drawing a straight line from Martyrium Hill to the South Gate, interrupted only by the city’s Central Gardens. Tall bridges spanned the road, providing safer walkways to pedestrians and allowing keen-eyed Enforcers to monitor the thoroughfare from above. I made my way down the boulevard until I reached the first intersection, and then turned right onto Weaver Road, and from there onto Rose Crescent.
The Minor West Quadrant was home to the merchant class districts, full of bright storefronts, small galleries, and shady cafés. The pretty little canals that ran between the buildings had run dry, but the fountains still held water.
The entrance to the graveyard was on Rush Street, but most people jumped the low wall at the end of Rose. I was no exception, although I did first check that no one was watching.
Since Finn’s sixteenth birthday, the graveyard had served as our usual meeting place. The gentle slope was overgrown with crooked trees and soft sweet grasses. He waited in the shadow of the city wall.
Without acknowledging one another and in perfect unison, we spat onto the grave marker.
“You’re early,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“I thought you were exhausted. Didn’t you have a shift last night?”
He shrugged. I noticed that he was holding a copy of the Resounder. I gestured to it.
“You must have planned a long wait, if you brought reading material,” I said.
“Were you attacked by a Haunt yesterday?”
I spluttered. “What?”
He raised the newspaper so that I could read the headline. The bold black text at the top of the page read “Pillar Under Attack!” followed by the subheading Rogue Haunt on the Loose, Sisterhood in Shock!
“We weren’t attacked,” I said, snatching the newspaper from him and scanning the article. “We just found the man mumbling to himself in the orchards.”
“That sounds worrying.”
“It wasn’t dangerous.” I kept reading. This was bad; the Reverends were going to be livid that the news got out to the public. “My full cohort was present, and he was only in the second phase of the transformation.”
“The article says fourth.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”
Finn raked his fingers though his hair, a nervous habit. “El, be serious. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sighed and handed the newspaper back to him. “Because it wasn’t that important. No one got hurt.”
“But what if there are more Haunts?”
“Then the Sisterhood will handle them.”
“How?”
“There are protocols,” I said, brushing aside the issue. “And this was a freak incident. There’s no need for concern.”
“You don’t know that. If there was one infection, then—”
“The man could have contracted the sickness via airborne exposure.”
“He was a farmer!” Finn threw up his hands. “He would be the least exposed to the Sisterhood.”
“Some men are more susceptible than others.”
“You don’t really believe that it was airborne,” he said, seeing right through my evasion. “So, a renegade?”
I hesitated, then shrugged. “Maybe, but I hope not.”
“You’ll be careful, though?”
“Only if you stop hassling me about it.”
“El…”
“Fine, yes, I’ll be careful,” I grumbled. “I guess the whole city is talking about this by now.”
“Just about.”
“Great.” Mass hysteria on top of everything else. I scuffed my shoes against the grass. “Look, there will be an inquiry. If one of us, well, strayed, the Sisterhood will hunt her down.”
Finn sighed. His gaze travelled past me, up toward Martyrium Hill, and I knew what he was thinking. He gave a small shrug.
“Well, I hope she’s good at hiding,” he said.
“Me too, I suppose.” The taste of my mother’s blood lingered in the back of my mouth. “Although I shouldn’t say things like that. Where’s Millie?”
“She told me she’d meet us on Hyacinth. Want to get moving?”
I nodded. Finn cast a sidelong glance at the headstone, then stuck his hands in his pockets and walked toward the gates. I followed him.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE TIME the fifth bell tolled, the sun had banished the last of the morning mist. Thin, bright clouds rolled across the sky.
We waited for Millie on the corner of Rose and Hyacinth. Oak trees lined the streets in the Morkith District of Minor West, and the ground was littered with acorns and crushed leaves. Horse-drawn cabs rattled past. A squirrel hopped from branch to branch, and a fat house cat followed its movements from the windowsill of a grocer, tail twitching.
I pulled blades of grass from the pavement and arranged them into circles on my knees, while Finn leaned against the tree and read through the Resounder. As he had anticipated, Millie was late.
“A man has gone missing in the Berai province. Enforcement requests anyone with information to come forward,” he said, tracing a finger across the text. “Food prices are expected to rise … Oh, that’s interesting. The Council is planning to hold a symposium on the subject of the drought. They’re calling for contributions from the public.”
“Huh. Where is it?”
“The Tivaria Community Hall. ‘Sources say that the dry spell is heating up existing conflicts within the Council. Reverend Deselle Somme of Food Management continues to push for greater rationing and water pressure reduction, but she has been met with fierce resistance from the Department of Memories and the Department of Public Health, who are against Somme’s austerity policies. Enforcement has reputedly thrown its weight behind Food Management, although it remains to be seen how the other nine Council members cast their votes. With Moon Tide approaching, some experts predict that the Sisterhood may call a halt to the festivi
ties.’”
“So we should,” I said sourly.
“It’s that bad?”
“I am not authorised to give an official statement.”
He chewed on his lip. “It’ll cause a riot if they cancel Moon Tide.”
“Oh, they know. That’s why the Reverends are arguing. Allegedly. According to some sources.”
“Which side is winning?”
“Hard to say.” I gazed up at the sky. “But if they take too long, the weather will make the decisions for them.”
“It could still rain.”
“It could. But counting on it is…”
“Stupid?” he proposed.
“Ill-advised.” I sighed and brushed the grass off my legs. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Finn lowered the newspaper. “Sounds ominous.”
“Not really. Yesterday, I had a conversation with Reverend Cyde of the Moon House.”
“You mentioned her last night, and the name was familiar.”
“She used to be friends with my mother.”
“Ah, that must be why.” He looked past my shoulder. “Hold that thought; Millie’s here.”
I turned and saw her stepping down from a cab at the end of Hyacinth. She flashed me a quick smile. In one arm, she held a bunch of colourful flowers.
“We can talk about it later,” I said.
Millie paid the driver and strolled over to us. The fabric of her long sundress fluttered in the breeze.
“Hi, gorgeous.” She selected a single blue chrysanthemum from her bouquet and handed it to me. “You are looking especially lovely today.”
Millie had darker hair than her brother, but the same blue eyes. Her skin was liberally dusted with nut-brown freckles, concentrated across her nose and cheeks. Today she had twined a constellation of tiny white flowers into her loose plait.
“You appear to have a dandruff problem,” said Finn.
She smacked him over the head with her free hand.
“It looks beautiful,” I said.
“Why, thank you. They took a while but, you know, I have to look my best for you.”
“Was that why you left us waiting for an hour?”
Millie ignored her brother. She offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet. “How was the Haunt hunt?”
“What Haunt?”
“Yes, very convincing. Daje and Hanna should be in the Gardens already. Maybe you can save the details for them?”
“You know I won’t tell you anything about the incident, right?”
“She says now.” Millie looped her arm through mine. Her skin was sun-warmed, and she was wearing perfume, something light and feminine and sweet. “Sounds like a challenge.”
The Central Gardens were only a few blocks away. They formed a belt of lush greenery between the eastern and western sides of the city. Huge stepped terraces jutted up from the Major Quadrants, and a maze of stairs, ladders, and bridges connected the different levels. At the base of the Gardens were the city greenhouses, row upon row of glass rectangles packed with ripening vegetation. Food Management had plans to build more to decrease the Sisterhood’s dependence on the farms. It was one of Reverend Somme’s more ambitious projects, and an ongoing headache for me.
“… want to see the Moult perform. I hear they’ve planned an act for Moon Tide.” Millie had been talking for some time.
“Are they the illusionists?” I asked.
“Yeah. Daje saw one of their performances a few months ago.” She squeezed my arm. “You seem distracted. Something on your mind?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about Sisterhood problems.”
“Ah.” She smiled. “Should have known.”
We reached the Iron Gate, the main entrance to the Gardens in Minor West. A few people milled around the shaded path and an Enforcer leaned against the fence, an expression of extreme boredom plastered across her face. A labourer read a book in the sunshine.
“Over here.”
Hanna waved from a little way up the path. She was a short woman with a heart-shaped face and multiple piercings. Although the two of us feigned friendliness for Millie’s sake, our relationship was civil at best. The coolness between us was probably my fault.
“You took a while, sunshine. I was getting bored.” Hanna kissed Millie’s cheek and nodded to me in greeting.
“Hello,” I said, perhaps a shade too cheerfully.
The Gardens were busy, with civilians making the best of the cooler weather. Children played tag along the walkways, and the elderly practised stretching exercises beneath broad trellises. A trio of Sisters from the Department of Water and Sanitation sat on a bench in the shade, engrossed in conversation. I had heard that the department was in a state of turmoil ahead of Reverend Kisme’s martyrdom. Reverend Belia Verje was set to replace her next month, and rumours suggested that the new Head intended to reshuffle the entire Department.
Hanna led us across the dry lawns to a smaller path through the trees. She had linked arms with Millie, and the two of them were discussing people I did not know. I fell back to give them space.
Finn caught my eye.
“Something the matter?” he asked quietly.
I was silent for a while, thinking. Millie laughed at something Hanna said, and shoved her playfully. It was difficult to put words to my feelings.
“Some days, I want to…” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But you seem sad,” he murmured.
“I’m not. Just caught up in my own head.”
Deeper in the Gardens, a man broke out in song. Finn glanced backwards.
“El,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “Look, if you and Millie wanted to, uh … This isn’t the most comfortable topic for me. But if you feel…”
“Please stop.”
“Got it. Gladly.”
I laughed, and my melancholy retreated. Finn looked over his shoulder a second time. His eyes narrowed.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I asked.
He did not answer me immediately, but at the bend in the path, he paused.
“I think someone is following us,” he said.
“What?”
“It could be my imagination.” He nodded toward the stairs leading to the lower levels of the Gardens. “Check once we reach the steps.”
“It’s probably just someone heading the same way. Why would anyone follow us?”
“I don’t know.”
For some reason, I felt certain that Finn was lying to me. More than anything else, that made me uneasy. I had lace to spare, so there was little danger, especially in such a public place. And yet he was clearly nervous.
“A friend of yours?” I asked lightly.
He flinched. “No.”
Interesting. I filed away his reaction for later consideration. At the top of the stairs, I bent to retie the laces of my shoe and glanced back down the path.
It was the same man I had seen reading a book at the Iron Gate. He strolled toward us, hands buried in his pockets. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about him; he had medium brown skin and deep-set eyes, five or so years older than me. Easy to overlook in a crowd, indistinguishable from hundreds of other men in the city. Our eyes met.
To my surprise, he grinned and tipped his hat. I quickly turned away, as if he had caught me doing something wrong, and the man walked past the stairs and toward the Winter Gardens.
“That was weird.” Finn shrugged. “Sorry. I guess I was wrong.”
I wasn’t so sure. There had been a kind of camaraderie in the stranger’s grin, like we shared a secret, or played a hidden game. I know you see me, he seemed to say, but what are you going to do about it?
I straightened. “Can you tell Millie that I’ll catch up with her?”
“What are you planning to do?”
“I’m not sure. I just want to see where he’s going. Like you said, it’s probably nothing.”
“Yeah, well…” Finn’s frown deepened.
/> “What’s with you today?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” I elbowed him. “Then stop worrying me. I won’t be long.”
“Who’s worrying who?” He rolled his eyes, although his nonchalance felt forced. It gave me pause; he seemed strangely vulnerable, almost afraid, and I could not understand why. But I didn’t want to lose sight of the stranger either, so I shook my head and hurried down the path. I would talk to Finn later.
The man had disappeared around the corner. I walked faster. This was likely a waste of time and, of course, I didn’t know what I would actually do if I caught up to him. Demand an explanation? An explanation for what? I climbed the broad flight of stairs to the upper eastern sector of the Gardens, taking them two steps at a time. No law prohibited smiling.
An Enforcer greeted me at the archway to the Winter Gardens. I nodded to her. Beyond the arch, wooden walkways snaked between the evergreen trees. Luck chimes clinked in the breeze.
The Winter Gardens were the one sector that stayed green all year round, which made it amongst the most popular areas in the Gardens. As a child I had climbed these trees with Finn while my mother met with her friends on the benches below. We had invented all kinds of fantasies back then, about what we would become when we grew up. Stupid childhood dreams.
The man was waiting, standing in the shade at the first fork in the path. When he saw me coming, he smirked and beckoned.
That caught me off-guard, and was irritating enough to overcome my natural reticence. I advanced toward him.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m not sure…”
“Corpse eater,” he called.
I stopped in my tracks. A nearby woman’s head whipped around.
“Uh…” I wet my lips. “Sir, I think…”
“You are a corpse eater.” He pronounced the words carefully, as if speaking to a child. He was still smiling. “Isn’t that right, Acolyte Elfreda Raughn?”
He’s mad, I thought, reeling. To so casually blaspheme against the Sisterhood was insane. And how does he know who I am?
The handful of people in the vicinity were all staring at us.
“Did you hear me? I can say it louder,” he said.
“I heard you.”