Shimmerdark

by Sarah Mensinga

  “Be careful here,” she says as I crunch my foot into what I realize is a flight of stairs.

  “I was furious,” Drae Devorla says, linking her arm through mine and leading me upward. “I truly was. I loved you, and I wish I hadn’t told anyone I doubted you. I was so relieved when you were found, and I hoped that since you weren’t the Predrae anymore, you’d be safe.”

  “There were a lot of other people on that ferry,” I say, thinking of Bermy, Clicks’s wife. “So many people died.”

  “Sixty-three,” Drae Devorla says. “I did try to find you. I swear it.”

  I probably shouldn’t believe her, but I do. “You’re still going to downlevel Auldora, though, aren’t you?”

  Drae Devorla doesn’t answer until we reach the top of the staircase. Then she says, “Auldora’s lucky, you know. She’s in a drugged sleep because at her age, the trauma of downleveling could turn her into a Shimmercaster. It also means she’ll never remember the procedure. She’ll simply wake up tomorrow and think she’s winked out.”

  As far as downleveling goes, it does sound gentle. “Why don’t you drug the children in the Periph?” Vonnet suffered so much. “It would be far more merciful.”

  “It would,” Drae Devorla agrees. “Unfortunately, the sleeping medicine we use is extremely expensive, so we save it for the palace Shimmerlings.”

  I might as well attempt to unravel every Triumvirate Hall mystery, so I ask, “Why are there more girl Shimmerlings than boys? Do boys really have unstable cagic?”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but that’s not the real concern.” Drae Devorla momentarily lets go of me to open a door. “We don’t bring boys into the courtyard because we don’t want pregnancies. Labor pains turn Shimmerlings into Shimmercasters too. And as for why girls are preferable to boys, I’m not entirely sure. I suspect it’s because women are thought to be calmer, less ambitious, and more likely to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.” Her tone has soured.

  I think we’re now in one of the long corridors I followed Drae Devorla and Matron Isme through. My head still hurts, but the sharp pain has dissolved into a fussy ache. It’s my heart that hurts more now.

  “I’m sure you’re angry,” Drae Devorla continues. “I was upset when I first learned all this too. It doesn’t seem fair. But I hope if you think about it, really think about it, you’ll realize that no system of government is perfect and ours is better than most.”

  She releases my blindfold when we reach the passage connecting her wing of Triumvirate Hall to the Courtyard of Youth—the corridor that runs beneath the Maternals’ dorm. “If the other Conduits hear what’s happened, they’ll want you incapacitated until your downleveling’s complete, and they might even want you killed. So please, will you cooperate from now on?”

  I nod, although I don’t really have a choice. “Will you drug me for my downleveling?” I’m not sure whether I want that or not. I’d like to avoid any pain, but I also don’t want to be that vulnerable.

  Drae Devorla shakes her head. “There’s too much cagic in you now for that. Shimmercasters have to willingly surrender their energy. I’m sorry. It’s not easy.”

  She leaves me alone in my small room but doesn’t lock the door. I suppose she knows locks don’t work on me anymore. I collapse on the bed, lying face down. My head hurts again, almost as badly as it did after I was shot, and I feel like a thousand unsolvable problems are pinning me down: all Shimmerlings are downleveled, a Cityland Conduit probably tried to murder me, and Drae Devorla won’t fight a broken system that makes her miserable.

  The responsibility heaped on her is immense and unfair. Why can’t she see that? Many Shimmercasters would be a great thing, and surely they would hold each other accountable.

  “This system is stupid,” I say, my words muffled by bedding. “And cruel.”

  But it’s a cruelty woven into our laws and culture. How can a vast system of injustice change without widespread chaos? And how can I, one person, tackle such a sprawling, multifaceted problem?

  I feel overwhelmed and already defeated.

  I get the sense that the Great Drae thinks my Shimmercaster transformation was my fault—but it wasn’t. My body did what it was meant to do, and it’s something all Shimmerlings should experience.

  And is shimmerdark truly corrupt energy? Or is that just a lie to make sure Cityland Conduits don’t use their power selfishly? Shimmerdark is much easier to shape and control than shimmerlight, and it certainly doesn’t seem to be driving me mad. If anything, I’m thinking more clearly. And yes, Aerro was troubled—but is shimmerdark really to blame? He watched his family die and he’s been isolated ever since—of course he’s struggling.

  As for Rutholyn, she’s dead because Drae Devorla told the Shieldbearers to keep me out of the city.

  Steely certainty solidifies in my otherwise scattered thoughts: I don’t want to be downleveled.

  I will not be downleveled.

  I sit up, wincing and rubbing my head, and I say it out loud. “I’m keeping my cagic. It’s mine.”

  And if that’s what I want, I can’t stay here. I need to leave—now—tonight. I probably should flee Kaverlee City too and maybe even the Periph. But where would I go? Where would I be safe?

  I’ll need help as well. I consider visiting Clicks and Fedorie, but I’ve caused them enough trouble—and who knows? They might believe Kaverlee’s flawed laws should still be respected. I wish I could talk to Fifsa; I’m sure she’d be just as upset as I am, and she might know what to do, but she’s too far away.

  Yet then I realize who I really need.

  Kary.

  And I suppose there’s only one way to find him.

  “Glowy Pony,” I whisper, my voice echoing through the dark, oddly shaped room. The cagic horselet can locate anything: roads in abandoned labor agency camps, hidden entrances into shelters, mittens and rain covers. Surely he can find my dearest friend.

  There’s no response.

  I try again. “Glowy Pony, please come back. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or blamed you. I’m so sorry Rutholyn died—and I need your help.”

  Still nothing.

  But I have another idea.

  Sitting cross-legged on the polished wood floor, I recreate Glowy Pony’s horselet body with shimmerdark—I sculpt his bright eyes, his round belly, his stubby legs, and long mane. Then I call for him again. “Glowy Pony, please, please come back.”

  Oh, shining realms, those gleaming eyes blink and that glimmering tail flicks from side to side, and he’s standing in front of me again—my mysterious little helper.

  If only I could revive Rutholyn the same way.

  “It’s really you, isn’t it?” I say.

  The sparkling horselet nudges my outstretched hand.

  I tear up and pull his small body close, hugging him like Rutholyn used to. “I’m so sorry she’s gone.”

  He soberly nuzzles my hand again.

  “It was all the snow, wasn’t it?” I say, huddling around him. “That’s why the senneck surprised you.”

  Glowy Pony sadly nods, but he also looks at me expectantly. He seems to know I called him here for a reason.

  “I’m in danger,” I say, “and I need to find my friend, Kary. Do you know where he is?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still startle when, amazingly, Glowy Pony nods.

  21

  Kary

  It feels good to have a plan again, even if my plan is a simple one: find Kary.

  Since I have no warm clothes, I creep into Drae Devorla’s bedroom suite. She isn’t there, and I try not to think about what she’s doing—surely downleveling Auldora—as I rummage through her closet. For a woman who usually dresses plainly, she has a lot of fine outfits. I pull on a deep green pallacoat. The sleeves are a bit short, but otherwise, it fits me. I also take goggles from the workshop, for it can be windy when I use transference.

  Returning to my room and Glowy Pony, I say, “I don’t think anyone should see you
.”

  Nodding, he dims the blue light skittering over his shadowy body. I didn’t know he could do that.

  “Perfect,” I say, reaching for the door. I’m still not quite sure how to leave Triumvirate Hall. The Shieldbearers standing guard will want to know where I’m going in the middle of the lunar night. Drae Devorla probably also told them to make sure I stay put.

  Yet Glowy Pony doesn’t follow me; he trots over to the window instead. He then vanishes and reappears on the rooftop.

  “Of course,” I say softly. I don’t have to worry about locked doors, tall fences, or guards; I can summon shimmerdark.

  The window opens easily, and as I climb outside, I’m reminded just how miserably cold the Dark Month is. Because the roof’s steep, I hang onto the window ledge as I struggle to draw the curtain and close the sash. I then make the mistake of looking down. From this high up, the trees surrounding Triumvirate Hall look like small clumps of moss, and the shiny chariots gleam like scattered coins.

  My heart beats faster.

  I stretch out my hand, planning to shape a shimmerdark disc, but before I create anything, I hesitate. Even though shimmerdark is mostly black, the edges shine brightly. I might be spotted.

  I think for a long moment and then, thank the realms, come up with a solution. If I create a shimmerdark shape inside my pallacoat, like a hidden breastplate, I can cling to it and carry myself down to the city streets unseen.

  Trying not to feel guilty about betraying Drae Devorla’s trust, I summon cagic against my chest. Then hugging it tightly, I move out into the windy air. The borrowed pallacoat flaps wildly around me as I hover away from the palace walls and float over the neatly tiled roofs of the Landroot District. Avoiding windows, I lower myself down onto an empty street, and when my feet are on solid ground, I dispel the shimmerdark from inside my pallacoat.

  Glowy Pony appears beside me with a staticky pop, and I can see just enough of his silhouette to follow him. As we hurry away from Triumvirate Hall, I’m consumed by a slippery, urgent feeling. I’m not used to challenging authority, and now I’m not just challenging Drae Devorla, I’m challenging all eight Cityland Conduits.

  At first, I walk in the long, angled shadows cast by the cagic streetlamps and Landroot houses, but once we reach Upper Topdwell, I’m not as careful. There are plenty of people around, even though it’s the middle of the lunar night. Many cauponiums are open, glowing a welcoming yellow, and although the baths and library are closed, they’re still well lit. Every so often, hired chariots roll past too, carrying boisterous passengers and trailing cagic sparks.

  Whenever I was in a foul mood on the Grimshore, I’d stomp off down the beach and almost always, I’d start feeling better. Today, though, the more I walk, the angrier I am. Kaverlee is too dependent on cagic, and aside from Drae Devorla, all that energy comes from children. I suppose people need charged barriers and star nets, but do they also need brightly lit signs, autochariots, and cagic-powered appliances? I pass one shop selling frivolous gadgets like hair curlers, power games, and chatboxes, and I nearly break the window to destroy them. No one wants to admit it, but our world is powered by sacrifice.

  I expect Glowy Pony to stop at some point and trot up to a door, but he keeps darting from shadow to shadow, and eventually he leads me to Lower Topdwell. By then, it’s early morning and a different sort of people join us in the chilly streets; washerwomen push laundry carts, servants in crisp pallacoats and palliumcoats walk toward the wealthier neighborhoods, and I nearly collide with an elderly man hauling a wagon full of antique gadgets.

  I rarely visited Lower Topdwell when I was the Predrae, and I didn’t realize it was in such poor shape. The crowded streets are jammed with old buildings that either need repairs or should simply be torn down. It reminds me of the Outer’s Cove shelter, except it’s not underground and there are more stray cats.

  Glowy Pony finally brings me to a two-story building made of round, river-tumbled stones. Its walls are so crooked it looks like a firm shove could knock the whole place over. I think it’s a lodging place, although the sign over the door simply reads, “The Bearcur.”

  “Stay hidden,” I tell the cagic horselet, suddenly feeling nervous. If Kary really is here, how will he react when he sees me? Will he be surprised? Happy? Annoyed that I tracked him down? The last time I saw him, things were strained between us.

  Hands clenched, I walk into the Bearcur, entering a stale-smelling room. As I suspected, it seems to be a cauponium. Several people are sitting around tables, eating a simple breakfast of what seems to be gray, grainy mush.

  None of these people are Kary, though, so I’m not sure what to do. He could be sleeping somewhere, but I can’t exactly search the building. Whoever owns this place wouldn’t like that.

  I suppose I could ask people if they’ve seen him, but just as I turn to a greasy-haired man who’s either humming or snoring, a chair scrapes nearby. A tall, skinny girl then stands up and walks over to me. She’s wearing a simple stola and men’s boots and carrying a rusty knife. The blade doesn’t seem to have anything to do with me, though. I see a pile of partially peeled sour roots where she was sitting.

  “You lost?” she says, eyeing the emerald green pallacoat I took from Drae Devorla’s wardrobe. Its luxurious fabric and fine tailoring don’t belong in this part of Kaverlee.

  “I’m looking for someone named Kary,” I tell her.

  “Kary, huh?” The girl chews her lip. “Don’t know any Karys.”

  “He’s a little older than me,” I say. “He has black hair and brown eyes… and only one hand.”

  Now her eyes flicker, but she continues to chew her lip, saying nothing.

  “Look, I know he’s here,” I say, wondering if I should just start shouting his name.

  The girl fiddles with her rusty knife. “I can find anyone—for a price.”

  I sigh, exasperated. “I don’t have money.”

  The girl eyes my fine pallacoat and raises an eyebrow. “Sure you don’t.”

  Just then, a large, bearded man enters the room, and trailing after him is—

  “Kary!” I exclaim, relieved.

  His eyes meet mine, full of… relief? Dread?

  “That’s Jemes, not Kary,” the big man says. His scratchy, nasal voice sounds like it should belong to someone much smaller.

  And Kary, who is most definitely Kary, softly says, “Who are you?” to me, and he’s such a terrible liar. I’m sure it’s obvious to everyone that we know each other.

  “Who am I?” I say impatiently. “Don’t be ridiculous. I need to talk to you alone—I need your help.” Oh realms, seeing him is doing something to me. Shimmerlight dances beneath my skin. In bright light it wouldn’t matter, but in this dark place, I’m glowing.

  “Is that shimmerlight?” asks the bearded man.

  “Course not.” Kary gives me a hard look. “You’d better leave.”

  I’m not going anywhere until I talk to him. “You don’t understand. I—”

  “Please go,” Kary insists, and then adds in an undertone, “You’re not safe here.”

  At the same time, the big man turns to the skinny girl. “Vivie, go find a Shieldbearer and tell him we’ve caught a runaway Shimmerling. Ask for a reward.”

  She sneers at me, nods, and runs off.

  This is just getting worse and worse. I don’t want to deal with Shieldbearers, but I’m also not leaving until I talk to Kary.

  “Rucks, do you really want Shieldbearers in here?” Kary says to the big man.

  And Rucks, I suppose that’s his name, snorts. “I can manage some shiny boots if there’s a payout.” He then turns and shouts, “Skedge! Lazzle! C’mere. Might need some backup.”

  Two young men soon join us. They have Rucks’s broad shoulders, unkempt hair, and heavy brows. They must be his sons.

  “Who’s the stola?” one asks, planting himself between me and the door.

  “A runaway Shimmerling who’s sweet on Jemes,” Rucks says. �
��Viv’s getting the city guard.”

  I stare at Kary, and he gives me a look that’s just as intense. We need to talk, but how and where? Maybe if I create a distraction, we can slip away. A small, hot shimmerdark shape inside Rucks’s shirt might work.

  “So what’s your name, fancy locks?” Rucks asks.

  And I ignore him; I’m too focused on placing a small sphere of shimmerdark inside his gaping collar.

  “I asked you a question,” he snarls, and reaching forward, he gives my right arm a sudden, painful twist.

  It’s exactly how Golly grabbed me, which makes two terrible things happen.

  Kary cries, “Xylia! No!” telling everyone who I am.

  And I react. Thank the realms I don’t knock Rucks through a wall, but I do hurl a globe of shimmerdark into his chest, shoving him over a table. Bowls shatter and gray, grainy mush splatters everywhere.

  There’s no point hiding my power now, so I dive for Kary and wrap us in a protective shell of velvety, dark energy. The shimmerdark shuts out the oversized men and the hazy room, just like I hid Rutholyn and myself from nocturnes. Suddenly it’s just Kary and me in a very small space, a patch of dimly lit floorboards, and the muffled sound of angry voices.

  Kary looks around in amazement. “This isn’t shimmerlight.”

  “No, not quite,” I say, and because we’re so close, too close maybe, I cross my arms between us. “This power is why I came looking for you. I’m in trouble—big trouble.” Somehow telling him about my downleveling discovery is going to make it much more real. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

  “Will this stuff… hurt us?” Kary’s still looking up and around, examining the shimmerdark.

  “No,” I say. “We’re safe.”

  He nods and focuses on me again. “You’re hurt.” He gently touches my forehead.

  I quickly turn away. “I’m fine, but what’s happened to you? Why are you here? Why are you calling yourself Jemes, and why did you leave Clicks?”

  “Long story,” he says softly.

  “I have a long story too,” I say. “And I’ve made such a mess of things. I have as much power as Drae Devorla now, but she won’t let me keep it. So I ran away.” I squeeze my hands together as something wonderful happens; Kary pulls me into a hug. I try not to cry. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, someone holding me, comforting me.