Gravity's Revenge (21 page)

25

Cliff Edge

Hiresha had hoped the thief had been lying. She had told herself to ignore his words, to run to the Grindstone, to forget all the care Maid Janny had given her, how Janny had helped Hiresha navigate the halls when she first came to the Academy when she had been a friendless prodigy among rich girls.

On Hiresha’s earning of her twenty-first honorary gown, Maid Janny had baked her as many celebratory cakes, pies, and pastries, each colored to resemble one dress. Hiresha would never forget that either.

The enchantress’s feet dragged her under the arch, beside the statue of the Opal Mind. To her horror, Hiresha saw someone had driven a nail into the goddess’s frozen chest. She stepped closer to pull it out when her eye was drawn to the figures at the plateau’s abrupt end.

Maid Janny was in a chokehold, the staff embedded across her neck. Her hands clamped on either side of the shaft of wood, and she stood on her tiptoes, in front of the taller Bright Palm.

“Hiresha!” Janny’s voice shrilled between gasps. “You’re alive. And—and Minna?”

“Alive, too.” The words came from Hiresha’s mouth without her realizing she had spoken. She felt adrift, empty of hope and beyond controlling herself.
What can I possibly do here?

Three more Bright Palms flanked Sheamab, and she wore the amethyst collar on her arm.
Safe from falling herself
. She held Janny at the cliff edge with the same ease in stance and expression as a novice dangling streamers of cloth to watch them twist in the wind.

“Elder Hiresha,” the Bright Palm said, “you will lower all your moveable jewels to the ground and submit. Then you will unlock the door protecting the Lord of the Feast.”

Sheamab pushed Janny forward so she leaned over the edge. The maid gulped and her feet shuffled, trying to find purchase in the snow.

“Do this,” Sheamab said, “and I’ll not kill your maid.”

Every muscle in Hiresha’s body went rigid as she remembered the Bright Palm’s earlier words.
‘Open this door, and I won’t kill him.’
Then Sheamab had bid Fos be thrown off the cliff anyway. In the parlor, she had also gloated in her own toneless, detached way that she knew the Academy was hers once Hiresha had agreed to her demand, had made herself and those who depended on her vulnerable.

I can’t submit again.
Hiresha clutched the mewing fox against her chest.
But neither can I watch Janny thrown to her death.

The maid’s face streamed with tears. “Why—what’re you waiting for? Just say you will. Say yes and in a few weeks they’ll be gone, it’ll all be over, and everyone can go back to their business, you to your jewels, me to the miller’s ale and maybe a bit of the miller himself.”

“Janny…” Hiresha’s throat felt so tight that words only just squeezed out. “…if I surrender, they may kill me. They may still kill you.”

“No, no, no.” Janny wrung her hands over the staff. “It’s that Lord of the Feast, isn’t it? The mister with three heads. Don’t you choose him. Not over me. Think who pressed the cold towels to your head during your fevers. Just think on it. And what’s he done for you? Not so much as make you a pot of tea. Oh, you can’t. You
can’t
.”

She is right,
Hiresha thought.
I can’t, and yet I must.

“Sheamab,” the enchantress said, “release Maid Janny. She’s an innocent.”

“She sought to make her daughter an enchantress. By the eighteenth tenet, stanza one, she cannot be innocent.”

Hiresha’s eyes darted to the Bright Palm with jewel-encrusted skin. He was the one wearing Hiresha’s amethyst bracelet, Sheamab’s anchor.
If I Lighten him, he’d float away and pull Sheamab after him, but she would see it and have all the time she needs to take off her amethyst band. I can’t count on her making so obvious a mistake.

“Release Janny,” Hiresha said, “or I will destroy you, and all your followers.”

Hiresha spoke it with deadened words, dry of hope.
I can’t frighten one who feels no fear.
Neither could Hiresha think of what else she could do or say.

“And,” Hiresha said, “I’ll shatter the Order of the Innocent.”

“In that you will fail.” Sheamab whirled her staff around and kicked Janny off the cliff.

“Janny!”

Hiresha lunged to the edge. She threw three jewels of Lightening toward where she thought she saw the maid, a smudge of grey dress tumbling downward in a dark sky.

The enchantress would have liked to watch and see if one of her jewels had hit. If Lightened, Janny might float safely down into the valley. Hiresha was denied the time to wait, as the sound of cutting air warned of a nearing staff.

Hiresha scrambled away past the gateway’s arch. She felt that she would vomit. A bile of anger and despair corroded her insides.
I should have kneeled. Not as if I can outrun all these Bright Palms on this snow field regardless. Oh, I hope Janny was Lightened.

The enchantress dropped an Attraction gem behind her for a bit of headway, but she heard feet stomping through the snow on either side, closing ground. Clawing her fingers over her sash, she found but one jewel left.
Attraction.

Her right boot skidded in front of her. Raising the arm that held the fennec, she regained her balance on the slippery ground. From the sheen below her, Hiresha realized she was walking on the frozen
Waterfly
River
.

She jogged as fast as she dared over the ice.
Maybe they’ll slip. Or one will weigh more than I and break the ice.
She hoped her own weight would not cause her to plunge into the frigid waters.

Sheamab and the Bright Palm with the block of a chin ran ahead of her. More boots sounded from either side of the river.
Surrounded now, and with only one enchantment left.

The river curved upward in a hump with a crystalline shimmer. The
Water
Bridge
was enchanted to allow people to walk under the river, but now Hiresha scrambled up it for higher ground. She lifted her last jewel overhead.

The Bright Palms circled the
Water
Bridge
. They glanced to Sheamab for orders.

Lifting the fennec, Hiresha kissed him on his forehead. His ears brushed their soft fur against her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” She ran a shaking finger down the fox’s side. “I don’t know what’s left for us to do.”

The ice creaked under her feet.
I’m going to fall in.
An idea sparked in her, one that scared her as much as it excited her with new hope.
Fall into the frozen river, drop the Attraction jewel, and it’ll stop them from following you.

“I won’t drag you through this.” Hiresha set the fennec down and pushed him away. “Run. Go to someplace warm.”

An upright tail tipped in black fur trotted away over the snow. As she suspected, the Bright Palms ignored the fox.

Hiresha crouched on top of the arch of ice and lay down. She folded her hands over her chest, one still clasping her last jewel. A coldness seeped upward through her spine and into her heart.
Enchantment magic can’t warm so much as a cup of tea. How will I survive?

Sheamab called out. “Approach her with caution.”

The enchantress pinched her eyes closed. She was determined to find a way, in her sleep laboratory.
Or if there is no way, at least I’ll die from the cold and not in Sheamab’s hands.

When Hiresha pushed herself into sleep, she increased her weight fivefold. The ice splintered under her, and she plunged into blackness.

The Novice Emesea pointed Alyla out to the glowing lady with the staff. Alyla winced and looked away.

The sight of Emesea swinging that paddle ringed with obsidian had terrified Alyla. After a year, Alyla had begun to feel safe around Novice Emesea. The two had even shared a bed and dreams, for the sleeping studies assigned by the enchantresses. Emesea had protected her from all manner of nightmares, cleaving them in half using an axe of obsidian. The onslaught had not been the method recommended by the enchantresses, but it had seemed natural enough in the dream.

After a few weeks of wanting to, Alyla had even asked about Emesea’s tattoo.

“It’s a serpent.” Emesea had smiled wider than Alyla had thought possible. “I rode him through the sea. That’s why they call me ‘Eme of the Sea.’”

Alyla had heard of sea monsters, the terrors stalking the waters that gobbled up any fisherman who braved the waves. She had thought Emesea must have been fooling her with such talk of riding one. Now Alyla would not think of asking her anything, like how she knew the Bright Palms, how she could bear to kiss the sick man in the nobles’ clothes with everyone watching. Alyla doubted she could ever speak to her again, not after seeing that same smile on her face as she chased after Enchantress Hiresha.

Marching behind the enchantresses, Alyla kept her eyes down and on the stomped snow.
If you don’t look at them, they might not look at you.
A grey coldness hung over the morning. Many boots crunched over the snow. Slippers squished. The lady Bright Palm made less noise with her sandals. Alyla could pick out her voice from ahead. Alyla was good at listening. She did it more than anything else.

“Dean Wysteras,” the Bright Palm said, “I have heard that the Crystal Ballroom is an ideal place to keep enchantresses secure. Or wouldn’t you agree?”

The dean made no reply to this that Alyla could hear.

Alyla wound and unwound the strips of cloth covering arms and hands. She felt so dizzy surrounded by all these strangers that she could not tell if she was too hot or too cold.

Her head turned to the side as she listened to a man’s soft, rasping voice. “I found the hair you sheared off. You left it in the snow.”

“Was about to fight the provost,” Emesea said in her loud, ringing voice, “and couldn’t have myself blinded by a head broom.”

“I’ve decided I like it at a slant,” the man said, stroking the cut locks from her ear to her shoulder. “And that gives me an idea. It should enrage the Opal Mind.”

Alyla heard the man cough then start speaking to someone else.

“I’ll snip hair from each enchantress. Consider it part of my payment.”

The lady Bright Palm answered him. “The enchantresses are far from innocent, but I’ll still not have you selling their hair to a hexer for coin.”

“Nothing like that. I won’t take a hair away from the Academy.”

“And not one gem.”

After a pause, he said, “And not one gem.”

A train of gowns slid over the snow in front of Alyla. Silver and gold thread embroidered them with designs of shields and spears. Alyla made the mistake of glancing up, and she saw the elder rector, a sack over her head. Her hands were tied so close together that their veins bulged like huge blue worms. A Bright Palm led the rector by the shoulder.

Alyla felt as if the rock tilted below her. She had loved the Academy for its routines and whispering silences. She had never imagined that something could come within its marble halls to harm the elders.
And if they can be pushed around with a sack over their head, what could happen to me?

I could die.
It had almost happened a few nights ago when Hiresha had saved her from that Feaster. Alyla had never felt so helpless, like she had been thrown down a pit so narrow that her arms and legs were trapped and she could do no more but crane her neck up to see a distant square of light above.

Alyla did not turn to look at Minna, though a prickle on Alyla’s skin made her think the veiled girl must be nearby. Alyla had wished to tell the Bright Palms about Minna.
They protect people from Feasters, don’t they?
But she could not imagine herself approaching a Bright Palm and speaking, and besides, Hiresha and Janny would be sad if Minna was hurt.

Thinking about what she had seen in the Feaster’s mirror made everything fade to white. Alyla tipped, knee smashing into the wet snow. With her hands clamped to the tunic below her chin, she could not bring her arms down in time, and she floundered onto her side. A glowing hand gripped her shoulder.

The lady Bright Palm pulled her upright. “You are Novice Alyla from Morimound?”

She meant to speak, to answer the Bright Palm. Alyla could only think of how the lady had watched as the black-masked elder had walked the Skyway to her death. Alyla darted a look at the Bright Palm. The lady unnerved Alyla with her youthful appearance, her features sharp and unwrinkled. She looked like she could be Alyla’s classmate.
Will she make me walk down the cliff?

The Bright Palm said, “These last days must have upset you, Novice Alyla. But know this. You are safe.”

Alyla wished the Bright Palm would let go of her hand. The novice shifted her fingers in a grasp that felt too warm.

“The Order of the Innocent came to the
Mindvault
Academy
only to protect lives throughout the Lands of Loam, and I have no wish to cause you or your friends any additional distress. Tell me, Novice Alyla, do you have any need that I may provide?”

She thought of Fos, how she had not heard from her brother since that first night. Alyla worried about him, but when she tried to ask the glowing lady if he was in the Blade, the words got trapped in her throat. Alyla only shifted her head from side to side, her hair sliding over her face.

“I see you have a question but are afraid to voice it,” the Bright Palm said. “The enemy is fear. Emotion obstructs thought and paralyzes action. With your permission, I will share the peace of my power with you.”

Alyla said nothing, and a warmth flowed up her arm. Her fingers relaxed. She straightened her shoulders that she had not realized she had cramped together. Tension drained out her chest, and she breathed in the crisp mountain air.

She looked down to see streams of white converging within her body. Her heart beat, and shining branches spread outward and up her neck. Part of Alyla expected to be frightened by the light moving within her, but she felt natural, as carefree and comfortable as when she was a girl in her parents’ house with her brother.

“Shyness is imprisonment of the soul,” the Bright Palm said. Alyla’s hand was pulled to rest on the lady’s own chest, and more light flowed into the novice’s arm. “For now, you are free.”

Alyla looked up, past the line of enchantresses being marched. Ahead, the Crystal Ballroom shone with a glaze of pink from the morning light that slipped between the mountains and the clouds. Each breath filled Alyla with pureness and boundless potential. She could run forever, talk to Emesea or anyone, even sing in public. If she wished.

The lady with the staff asked, “What did you want to ask me before?”

Alyla remembered. “What happened to Enchantress Hiresha?”

“She swam beneath the river’s ice.”

“I had another question.” Alyla could not remember why she had wished to ask them, and she was uncertain how she should feel about news of Hiresha’s maybe-death. “Where is my brother? Spellsword Fosapam. Fos Chandur.”

“He is down in the
College
of
Active Enchantment
. Likely injured,” the lady said. “And I have two questions for you, Novice Alyla. You will see that an answer for an answer is a fair exchange.”

“It has to be,” Alyla said.

“First, has an enchantress ever submerged herself in this frozen river for longer than an hour then surfaced alive?”

“No.” Alyla walked hand in hand with the Bright Palm. They passed the Observatory, a tower of brass that tilted toward the top.

“Second, are you skilled in memorization?” The Bright Palm let go of Alyla’s hand.

“Yes. I….”

Her throat contracted around the word. The light was leaving her body, and she felt as if poisonous tar gushed over her head in heavy gouts of black that burned her eyes and skin. She shrank from the pain of knowing that her brother was injured and Hiresha may have died. The bones of her arms dug into her chest as she crossed them, fists clenching, fingernails digging into her palms.

Alyla held her tearful gaze on the ground all the way to the Crystal Ballroom.