Boundary (4 page)

I also notice that the connecting corridors are cut with at least one arched hole in the ice walls, like ice-windows without the ice-glass. All open onto an interior courtyard. Their placement helps me organize the layout of the Hall of Archons in my mind.

There’s a roar from the courtyard, and I strain for a glimpse.

Theo pauses as well. “That’s the Yard. It’s used for the teaching of advanced ice climbing and excavation techniques. You will have the chance to train there later this afternoon, after the Midday Bell.”

I nod, and he hurries toward the only staircase I’ve seen so far. Two guards carrying bows and arrows, knives, and other weaponry stand at the base of the stairs. No other place in the Hall or its corridors is similarly protected.

Theo stops. Waving grandly, he says, “The Offices of the Chief and the Vault of Archons are located up there.”

I nod, but I’m suspicious. Why are we making a special stop here?

“Most Archons—especially our most junior—have no need to mount these stairs. The Offices of the Chief are not the place for them, nor is the Vault of Archons. But you must mark this place in your internal map, as you will be making use of the Vault, where past records of excavations are stored.”

I nod, my heart thumping. This is the exact sort of place Lukas told me to locate. But I hadn’t dreamed that I’d find it on my first day, or that I’d be granted access to it. Trying not to sound overly curious, I ask, “What sort of work
would you like me to perform in the Vault?”

He smiles a little. “Ah, I hear the disappointment in your voice, Archon Eva. You’d rather train in the Yard than spend your ticks poring over dusty archives?”

“No, Archon Theo. I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know the Yard is where most young Archons want to be.”

I can’t help but think of Eamon’s long bells in the Library, researching past Testings for his own preparations—of all the wealth of information it yielded him and me. “I thought the records of past excavations were kept in the Library.”

“Some Testing documents are indeed collected there. Other Testing records are kept in the Vault, as well as the Archons’ own private excavations.”

“Of course.” I fall silent.
Careful
, I tell myself. I must keep my excitement, my interest, guarded.

He pauses. “Don’t you wonder what you’ll be doing up there in the Vault?”

I almost smile, but I’m frightened. “Yes, Archon Theo.”

“The Site to which you’ll be traveling with Archon Laurence has been excavated once before. Many years ago. But then the ice shifted, and for the safety of the Archons, the Site was closed. Only now have the Gods decided to open the crevasse once more. So you will be researching that earlier excavation. The research will likely be dull. But we must make certain that we don’t retread the ground of those earlier Archons. Or miss any areas they deemed promising.”

I nod again, hoping my face is as impassive as my voice. “I’m honored to be doing such important work, Archon Theo.”

“When you’re coughing on the dust and ice particles of
the past, you won’t feel so honored,” he replies.

I wonder why he’s trying to make me feel bad about this assignment. Is this his subtle way of telling me what he really thinks about a Maiden as Archon? Or is some other message at work? Is he trying to tell me what he really thinks of Laurence and that he’s on my side? I can’t guess, and it really doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m going to be granted access to the Vault.

“When was the Site last excavated? The one to which I’ll be traveling?” I ask.

“In Year 98, after the Healing, It was a Testing excavation,” he says as he leads me up the stairs.

Interesting
, I think, and for all kinds of reasons. I know that Testing year. It was the year that one of only two other females besides me Tested. It was the year of Madeline.

VI
.

I excuse myself before the Attendants serve the final course of sweets—dried figs, cheese, and honey cakes, which used to be my favorite. But I haven’t craved sweets since the Testing; they taste too cloying, too intense. Even though my parents and Jasper offer their understanding when I say I am exhausted, I know they are disappointed. They hunger for details about my first day as Archon. I am in no mood to share, nor do I have to—everyone here knows that much of what goes on inside the Hall belong to Archons alone.

Mostly, though, I want to avoid any mention of Archon Laurence’s abandonment of me to Archon Theo. I can’t stand another tick of the contrivance.

My parents stand by the arched doorway to the dining
hall as Jasper and I part, chaperones as The Lex commands. Only after our Union can we be alone.

“I’m just happy that you’ll be in the Aerie for at least two more weeks,” Jasper whispers as he bows and kisses my outstretched hand.

“Me, too,” I whisper back.

“Our Union cannot happen soon enough,” he says and looks into my eyes. I see such longing in them that I blush.

He releases my hand. As the Attendant pulls open the weighty wooden door, Jasper turns back and waves. I raise my hand in farewell. A mixture of sadness and guilt rises within me, and I lower my eyes.

The stairs feel as though they’ve multiplied since I walked up them this morning after the Basilika services. As I drag my feet up step by step, I tell myself that I’m simply tired from the early rising and the long day. That it isn’t the heaviness of my secret burden weighing me down. That I can handle it.

I reach the last stair and hear my father mutter, “It was hard, Margret, seeing her in the Hall.”

“I’m sure it was, Jon,” my mother answers, her voice a Lady-whisper. “To see your daughter among all those male faces.” I can almost picture her leaning across the wide Feasting table to touch my father’s hand in a gentle show of reassurance and solidarity. My mother’s defining feature is her fierce, unwavering loyalty to our family. Her vision of our family, that is. But she has a genuine and Lady-like love of my father, I think. That is her saving grace.

“That is not the reason, Margret.”

“No?”

“No.” He makes a sound sort of like choking. “I kept
looking at Eva’s face and seeing Eamon there instead. I know he’s gone, but I’ve imagined his face in the Hall for so many years—”

His voice breaks off, and I freeze. He’s crying. I’ve only ever heard my father cry once before, the day the Ring-Guards brought my brother’s body home.

Katja sees me frozen on the top stair. She rushes to my side. “Come—” She pauses, still unsure what to call me, but wanting to please. “Eva, you are exhausted. Let me draw a bath for you.”

“No, Katja. I’ll be fine.” I wave off her efforts and enter my bedroom alone. After shutting the door behind me, I lean against it and slide down to sit my haunches, sobbing.

I’m not the only one playacting. My poor father—seemingly the essence of excitement and support today—is suffering along with me. The loss of Eamon haunts us all. I try to calm down, to steady my breathing. I must put aside my own worries about straddling two worlds—Maiden and Testor, Betrothed and Archon, and most of all … whatever the Aerie thinks I am and whatever I am truly to become. This daily role-shifting must become instinctive and hidden.

I remind myself that in the end, there is only one purpose above all: to uncover the truth of Eamon’s death. Perhaps the truth about New North is another knot that may be untangled at the same time. But for now, I must compartmentalize.

It’s not going to be as simple as I’d hoped to be that quiet little mouse.

VII
.

The tears will not stop. I try to stifle the sobs—I don’t want my poor parents to hear me—but I feel like I can’t breathe unless I let them out. All the grief that I’ve kept trapped inside me since Eamon died pours out in convulsive gasps. For months now, I’ve stuffed my sorrow into the darkest reaches of my spirit, thinking only of winning the Archon Laurels in his name, but finally, I must acknowledge the victory is empty. It will never bring my dead brother back to life.

As if watching someone else, I sink to my knees. Not in front of the diptych where I used to pray to the Gods, but right in the middle of my bedroom. I’m not sure to whom I’m praying anymore—what Gods exist, if any. But I must try.

“Whatever you are, whoever you are, please help me,” I beg in a whisper.

The praying just makes me cry harder. The enormity and futility of what’s ahead threatens to overwhelm me, and my chest heaves. Why did I ever think I could do this? I crumple, my head resting upon my knees. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I guess that no matter how hard I tried to keep quiet, Katja heard my sobs. Or worse, my parents.

I look up to see near-black eyes staring into mine. It’s Lukas.

Even enveloped by sadness, I am still afraid—for the both of us, if anyone catches him here. In his eyes, I see that he understands; he’s straddling two worlds, too. The Aerie where he serves those who believe Tech is evil—and his real home of the Boundary where his people know that Tech is only as evil as the hand that wields it. Lukas has been wrestling with these two worlds for a long time, probably his whole life.

He wipes a tear from my cheek. His gentle gesture make me cry harder; he was never one for softness. He wraps his arms around me, and whatever stones were left in my interior wall crumble. Yet the tears stop flowing. For the briefest of ticks, I feel safe.

“I’ve missed you, Eva,” he says into the top of my head.

“And I you,” I murmur into his shoulder. I wonder if we’d make these confessions if we were looking each other in the eye. Our relationship was built more on action than professed emotion.

“I wanted t-to see you—” he stammers, “to make sure you were okay.”

“All this pretending …” I feel the tears coming again,
so I take a deep breath. I’m afraid to say more, as if words might unlock the tears.

“I know this is hard. Your training has started.”

Did I imagine the understanding in his eyes? “It’s not just becoming an Archon that’s tough, Lukas.”

“Of course not, Eva. So much is being asked of you. As
Angakkuq
.”

I laugh a little. In the midst of all this grief and helplessness, the thought of me as some sort of shaman leader strikes me as funny. Or maybe just absurd. “I’m no
Angakkuq
.”

“Yes, you are.” His voice is firm.

He needs to understand. I pull back a little, but we are still seated, sort of tangled up in each other. “No, Lukas. I’m just a Maiden searching for answers—about my brother and about New North.”

“The answers you seek are the exact ones the
Angakkuq
needs, too.” He is insistent. “Eva the Maiden and Eva the
Angakkuq
are one and the same.”

“No, they’re not. Anyway, what does it matter if I’m the
Angakkuq
if we are both searching for the same things? Now that I’m an Archon—an insider like you wanted—I can find out the information we need. Whether I’m an Archon or Maiden or
Angakkuq
 … it seems like semantics.” I shrug.

“Semantics?”

Although he’s not yelling, I can hear the anger in Lukas’s voice. I pull farther back from him. “Yes.” I stay resolute.

“It matters, Eva. So much has been sacrificed so that you can lead New North to the truth.”

I recoil a little at the word. “Sacrifice? What do you mean by sacrifice?”

He sees my reaction and sighs. “
Sacrifice
is too strong. I mean we’ve been suffering in our ignorance for too long. And you alone in all of New North’s history are unique. You alone can lead us from the darkness of past lies into the light of honesty.”

I shake my head. “Listen to me, Lukas. I just want to find Eamon’s killer and have him punished. And if that means I have to learn some unpleasant truths about New North in the process—truths that maybe got him killed—then so be it.”

His eyes grow darker, sadder. “I wish you could understand how important you are, Eva.”