Boundary (5 page)

I see myself reflected in his inky eyes, and I realize something. No matter how close I feel to Jasper these days, the only one who really knows me is Lukas. How can I have real feelings for Jasper when he only knows the public me? True, he knows more than most, but still only knows the construct I fashion—whether it’s Maiden or Archon—whenever I face the world. Only with Lukas do I not wear any costume or mask or assume any role. I act the same way with him that I acted with Eamon. Although I feel very differently about Lukas than I felt about my brother.

Lukas runs his fingers along my cheek. Now that it’s free of tears, I feel the roughness of his skin. I hold his hand and glance at it, if only to avoid staring into those stubborn, demanding black eyes. His hand is coarse and dry and heavily scarred. But very, very warm. I clasp it tightly.

“When will I see you next?” I ask.

“I’ll come to you when I can.”

“Are you still in the Boundary?”

“For now. I’m sure my next Aerie placement will come in soon.” His voice is heavy; he sounds older than
his years. I realize that I have no idea how old Lukas is. I always assumed he was the same age as me because he was Eamon’s Companion. Even though he knows me better than anyone else, there’s so much about him that I don’t know. Questions I never asked.

“I’ll try to wait,” I tell him.

“No. You
must
wait for me to come to you. You don’t realize how many eyes are upon you. We must keep you safe.”

He releases my hand, and without glancing back, climbs out the window and into the night.

VIII
.

“Again, Archon Eva,” the masked Archon calls out. He wants me to scale the hundred-foot ice wall that dominates the Yard. This will be my sixth attempt.

“Yes—” I stop.

It feels wrong and disrespectful not to address him by his Lex-given title, but I don’t know what to call him. He didn’t bother to introduce himself, and since I can’t see his face underneath his sealskin mask, I don’t know who he is. The mask is an oddity. The Aerie people are well-accustomed to the cold—we know nothing else—and generally only wear such masks in the dead of winter. In blizzards. Not on relatively warm spring days such as this.

I stare up at the man-made sheet of ice, which doubles as a cliff and a crevasse for training purposes. In my preparations for the Testing, Lukas had me scale much higher walls. During the Testing itself, I descended down a slick crevasse that had no bottom I could discern. I grew comfortable in even the most dangerous climbing conditions. Yet this artificial peak is defeating me. I can almost hear Lukas chuckling at my efforts, pushing me along with his taunts. His visit last night seems like a dream compared to the many vivid memories I have of our days training together.

It isn’t the outcroppings or the soft patches or the hidden trenches—all carefully crafted by the Archons to hone our skills. Oh, no, I can handle those. It’s the things on my feet, what the masked Archon calls “mountaineering boots.”

For some reason he insists that we climb this faux glacier in this bizarre footgear instead of the bear claws which every Gallant—and one Maiden—knows how to use. Instead of claws for gripping, they have hard metal tips that slide off the ice. Instead of the insulated hide that molds to your foot and ankle, they are made of some stiff material that I’ve never seen before. It chafes my skin. Where did he get these unwieldy things, anyway?

Suddenly I think about the oblong tube I found in Elizabet’s bag, the one that gave off that bright bluish light. The same kind that the Ring-Guards used to find me and Jasper in the dead of night. Is the Triad
using
some of their Relics instead of studying and Chronicling them? Do the boots date from the Healing? If so, why aren’t they on a display shelf in the Hall of Archons or on a table in the Conservation Chamber rather than on my feet, where they don’t belong?

But I can’t ask any of this. Not without tipping my hand.
And not without breaking the unquestioning authority that all Archons must vow to obey.

I glance over at the two other Archons training with me. I recognize them both—Henrik and Alexei. They won the two Testing years before mine. They nod in my direction, but don’t acknowledge me otherwise. Maybe they’re as stumped as everyone else as to how to greet a fellow Archon who a few short months ago was just another Maiden. Or maybe they don’t care at all. After all, they are struggling with the boots, too. The masked Archon has ordered them up the ice wall more times than he has ordered me.

It seems that we will have to repeat the exercise until we get the hang of these boots.

“Give me my bear claws any day,” I overhear Henrik hiss at Alexei.

“I know,” Alexei whispers. “Why are they making us try these—”

“Do I hear talking?” the masked Archon shouts from his watching post.

“No, Archon Valteri,” they yell back, almost in unison.

Valteri. It sounds familiar, but I don’t know why. I can’t link the name to a face or a particular story from my father.

The snow crunches under the Archon’s feet as he marches over to the two boys. “Do you think this is a joke?”

“No, Archon Valteri,” they answer together.

“Because I assure you that I am not kidding.” He circles them like a hawk. “I want you both to climb to the summit. No ropes. No axes. Just those boots. And stay there until the Midday Bell. That’ll stop your grumbling.”

They are silent in response. I can feel their fear of the Archon and of his punishment.

“What, no smart remarks now? The vow of the Archon requires complete
pareo
. I expect that in the future, you will submit to your superiors’ will without hesitation and without comment. Or I will mete out far worse.”

“Yes, Archon Valteri,” they respond, their voices one yet again.

He stares at them. “What are you waiting for? Get up there!”

Henrik and Alexei scramble to the base of the ice wall and start their ascent. For a tick, I am mesmerized by their clumsy efforts to climb without the usual tools. I can’t imagine making it to the top without my axes, ropes, and ice screws; in fact, I might not even be able to reach the crest. Then I realize Valteri is staring at me, and I start climbing as well.

“What are you doing, Archon Eva?”

“You told me to scale the wall again, Archon Valteri.”

“True.” He pauses. “I’m glad that at least one of my trainees is listening. But we will leave the other two to their penance.”

“Yes, Archon Valteri.” What shall I do instead? The Yard contains other training exercises—trenches with frozenin artifacts for excavations and tunnels to practice fortification-building—but Valteri has not ordered me to those works. If nothing else today, I’ve learned the lesson about obedience. So I stay where I am.

“Come on. It is nearly the Terce Bell, in any event. Archon Theo awaits.”

He starts walking toward the Yard’s only entry point. His stride is quick, and I must run to keep pace. I hear him muttering under his breath. “The hubris …”

Inside the entryway, Theo does indeed await. After the
men half-bow to each other, Valteri reaches up to pull off his mask. I stifle a gasp. Half of Valteri’s face is sheared off. He wears a mask not because he is unusually sensitive to the cold, but to protect what’s left of his face. That’s why I know his name, though I’ve never seen him before. My father has mentioned him. He’s mysterious, rumored never to leave the Hall. His entire existence is devoted solely to training new Archons.

“I’ll expect you after the Prime Bell tomorrow, Archon Eva,” Valteri says. He vanishes into the warren of hallways surrounding the Yard.

“You were staring at his face,” Theo comments as he leads me down another corridor.

“No, Archon Theo. I was just—”

“Please don’t give me excuses. I saw you.”

Theo’s voice is stern, almost condemning, and my stomach lurches. Is he going to punish me as Valteri punished Henrik and Alexei? “I’m sorry, Arch—”

“I’m not chastising you, Archon Eva. It’s normal to gawk. There’s no one else like him in the Aerie, and not many have seen his face since he stays in the Hall. Thank the Gods. Do you know what happened to him?”

“No.” I’d heard stories about an accident—not from Father—so I am interested in Theo’s version of the truth.

“On his first excavation after the Testing, his rope gave out. He fell over a hundred feet down the base of a glacier. He slid past an icy outcropping imbedded with rock, and it sliced off his ear, cheek, eye, and half his nose. As you saw.”

“By the Gods.” The phrase just slips out. A similar accident could’ve easily happened to me. Or any other Testor.

“Feel no pity for Archon Valteri. The Gods gave him a
new calling when They took away his face. They gifted him with the purpose of training new Archons in the nuances of climbing so that the tragedy that befell him does not befall them. The harshness you see from him toward the trainees stems from the motives of a zealot.”

I nod guiltily. I feel sorry that I recoiled from Valteri. How strong he must be to devote his life to keeping other Testors safe, and how comforting for him to believe that the Gods are the architects of his fate. I wish my own faith was so certain.

Instead, I am left questioning my own convictions while at the same time having to believe in my own ability to control the future. I can’t help thinking that Lukas would admire Valteri, too. They have much in common. It would be so much easier to be a zealot.

IX
.

“To the Vaults, Archon Eva. We do not want to be late for the Scribe. He runs a tight ship.” Theo suddenly sounds impatient with me. Tight ship? What in the Gods does that mean?

I strip off my climbing gear, absurd boots, and outer layer of hides, and hand them to an Attendant, relieved to slip on my beloved
kamiks
. Wearing only my uniform of black sealskin tunic, coat, leggings, and
kamiks
, I walk alongside Theo toward the staircase. As he describes the precautions taken by the Scribe to preserve the records which I must studiously follow during my investigation, I hear a scream from the Yard.

We race to one of the arched cutouts.

Henrik has fallen down the side of the ice and clings to the ice wall by a single hand. How he found one of the scant handholds, I don’t know. Alexei, who has somehow managed to reach the peak, stares down at Henrik, clearly considering whether he should descend to help him.

“Don’t,” Henrik shouts up at him.

Alexei holds his position, thighs quaking with the effort of staying steady. I doubt Alexei would be much use to Henrik anyway; he looks weak. Theo and I watch as Henrik creeps toward the top. His progress is slow, with missteps and slips. But Theo motions for us to move on.

I’m not so willing to leave. “What happens if Henrik doesn’t make it to the top? Shouldn’t we stay to make sure they’re safe?”

Theo shrugs, but I see his face. The plight of Alexei and Henrik disturbs him. Still, he says, “You heard Archon Valteri’s punishment orders. Henrik and Alexei must stay at the top until the Midday Bell. It isn’t the Midday Bell, is it?”

“So they must reach the summit and stay there for nearly three more bells—accident or not?” I blurt out, without thinking. I should be more circumspect; I sound as if I’m challenging Valteri’s decision.

Theo’s gaze meets mine. “I read the reports from the Testing, and I know your history, Archon Eva. You know The Lex as well as any Lexor. Think on it. What does The Lex say about Archons who do not follow the orders of their seniors?”

The Lex sets forth a panoply of punishments for Triad members who fail to abide by orders—from expulsion from the Triad ranks, to exile in the Boundary lands, to execution. Valteri could have been much harsher with Henrik
and Alexei. But surely, they don’t follow The Lex to the letter in practice? Especially in training exercises?

I wish my father was here. He wouldn’t let this happen. Or would he? He is the Chief Archon; this is his Hall in a way. I can’t imagine much happens without his approval. There’s so much he hasn’t told me. There is a side I don’t know of him, perhaps many sides. But how can I fault him? We are all keeping secrets.