Shattering the Ley (12 page)

One walkway emerged onto a landing where a boat waited, tied to a tall pillar of wood carved and painted in vivid yellows and reds. A man who leaned against the pillar pushed away when he saw them, catching Allan’s eye. As they approached, he motioned dramatically toward the boat and said, “I have been waiting all day for you, my lady,” with too broad of a smile.

Moira glanced back at Allan, who grinned. “You can’t be serious,” she said.

“Oh, but I am.”

She stared at him, mouth open as if to protest, then shrugged and stepped into the boat. The man held it steady for her, then for Allan, and when they were situated, climbed into the back after untying from the pillar. Using a long pole, he pushed them away from the stone walkway and into the canal.

“He wasn’t lying, was he?” Moira asked. “He was waiting for us. You hired him.”

“Yes.”

“So our random walk wasn’t that random after all.”

“No.”

Allan wasn’t certain how she’d react, felt his chest loosen when she finally shook her head and laughed. She turned away, to look at the passing houses that butted up against the canal. The windows and balconies were done in an older style, one more suited to when the canals had been used for serious trade. Now the canals were considered quaint, and the docks and wharfs that had been the foundation of the river trade—districts like Eastend and Leeds—had fallen into squalor.

Allan watched Moira closely, could tell that she wanted to ask where they were going in the slight tension in her shoulders. But then she forced herself to relax with a sigh, leaning over the edge of the boat to trail her hands in the water.

It was the first time he’d ever seen her completely calm. At the party, in the Amber Tower, even in the gardens, an aura of wariness surrounded her, as if she were constantly waiting for a harsh word or the back of a hand. He recalled the lord at the party swearing at her when she’d dropped the crate of candles, and realized she’d grown used to defending herself against such abuse.

Allan let his own sigh escape slowly and joined her, so they were side by side. He heard the man shifting position to compensate behind them, but didn’t turn.

“Look,” she said, after a long, comfortable moment of silence, interrupted only by the splash as the man poled them along. “A fish!”

Allan glanced into the murky water and nodded. “Looks like a trout. Why are you surprised by fish in the canal? There are fish in the pools and fountains around the Amber Tower.”

Moira scoffed. “Those are ornamental. They’re small and colorful, there to please the lords and ladies and the other guests of the Baron. This . . . this is just a fish. It isn’t pretty, and it’s big. The biggest fish I’ve ever seen.”

She glanced up and caught Allan trying not to laugh. He flinched as she slapped him on his shoulder, holding up a hand to fend her off. “What?” he said, as the boat rocked.

“It’s not funny.”

“Haven’t you ever been down to the river?”

“The rivers are too cloudy and dirty. And I’ve never been outside of Erenthrall.” She sniffed. “I suppose you have?”

“I grew up in Canter, remember? It’s . . . nothing like Erenthrall. I’ve seen trout practically every day my entire life, in the streams that run through the hills surrounding the town. It’s Erenthrall that’s bizarre, with its fish kept in ponds simply to be looked at, never to be eaten.”

He shifted under Moira’s sudden intense scrutiny, prickles of embarrassment crawling across the back of his neck.

“Maybe that’s why you’re so different,” Moira finally said, voice soft, as if she spoke to herself.

“What do you mean?”

She turned back to the water, troubled, the trout long gone. “I told the other servants about you, after we met at the sowing of the tower. They warned me away. They said you were a Dog, that nothing good ever came of speaking to, let along seeing, a Dog. I told them you were different, but they just laughed. Half of them expect me to return to work tomorrow with a bruise on my face.”

Allan said nothing at first, let the shock sink in, even as he realized that he shouldn’t be shocked. Not after what he’d seen the Dogs do over the past few months.

Then he reached forward and brushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, caught and held her startled gaze, and said, “I would never strike you. I told you, I’m not like the other Dogs.”

Moira held her breath, then murmured, “I believe you.”

Allan let his hand drop and turned back to the water. Moira did the same, but edged closer to him.

A moment later, the boat scraped up against a stone dock with another of the pillars of carved wood, this one painted yellow and blue.

“We have arrived, my lord and lady.”

Moira rolled her eyes, but stood and allowed Allan to help her off the boat. The man winked at him as he disembarked. Allan slipped him a few errens in payment.

“Which way?” Moira asked. The path ran parallel to the canal, steps leading up to the right.

“Up the steps. There’s a café where we can eat, but I want to show you something else first.”

He led her up the stairs, ignoring the numerous paths, landings, and alcoves that branched off from them as they wound around the buildings on either side. He paused to show her the café, small enough it could only hold ten patrons inside, the rest outside on a scattering of tables and chairs in an open space not even large enough to be called a square. Then they continued, climbing higher and higher, until he ducked through an archway, drew her up a last flight of worn stone steps, and they emerged onto the roof of a truncated tower.

Moira gasped, moving immediately to the crenellated edge, placing her hands on the stone for support as she leaned out to take in the view. The city gleamed around them on all sides, sunlight glancing off of white stone buildings and the occasional fountain or pool of water. People, carts, and wagons moved on the streets in a steady stream, and barges plied the rivers and the ley lines. The noise of the city rose around them, merging into a wash of sound without component parts, while overhead the blue skies were streaked with white clouds, the storm far to the south. Slightly north of east, the towers of Grass rose like spikes into the sky, and on all sides the new subtowers glowed a faint white, subdued by the brightness of the sun. A light breeze played with Moira’s hair and the folds of her dress.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled. “How did you find this place?”

Allan shrugged, suddenly aware of the time. They’d spent longer on the boat than he’d intended. “One of the other Dogs knew of it. He told me how to find it. You can only reach this part of the Canal District by boat.”

He let her revel in the breeze and the sights and smells of the city until she turned back toward him, then said reluctantly, “We should go eat. It’s getting late, and—”

“We both have to report to the Amber Tower,” she finished for him. Her shoulders slumped, but she stepped toward him and took his hand. “But we can always come back later.”

Allan grinned. “We will.”

“Look!” Cory exclaimed, pointing out over the edge of the roof of their apartment building where they lay on their stomachs, staring out toward Grass, even though they couldn’t see any of the activity beneath the main towers, only the towers themselves.

Excitement thrumming through Kara’s skin—and a building energy prickling at the back of her neck—she squirmed farther forward. “What? What did you see? I don’t see anything.”

“The lights in the Amber Tower just came on, near the top.”

Kara rolled her eyes, but said, “That must be the main ballroom. My mother said many of the lords and ladies will be there, although anyone with influence will be in Seeley Park below the new tower.”

“Is that where your mother will be working?”

“No, she’s not working today. She’s coming with us to the park. She’s supposed to work afterward, though.” But Kara didn’t care. Her mother would be with them for the main event, the activation of the tower. Everyone would be there—her parents, Cory, his family, the Tender Ischua. The only one who’d be missing would be Justin.

She frowned, her gaze dropping to the throng of people already heading toward Grass in the streets around their building. It had been over two weeks since Justin had vanished and still no one knew anything. No one even seemed to be looking anymore.

“You’re thinking of Justin again, aren’t you?”

Kara gave a guilty start, although she wasn’t certain why. “How did you know?”

Cory pushed up, sitting cross-legged. “You get this worried, distant look, your eyes all squinched up and tight.” He hung his head, hands twisting in the ties of his shoes. “It wasn’t your fault. Or mine.”

Kara shoved herself up and faced Cory. “We should have believed him when he said someone was watching him. We should have said something then.”

“I never saw anyone.”

“Neither did I.”

“I thought he was just being . . . you know . . . Justin.”

Kara sighed and looked back toward the towers of Grass. “I know. So did I. But we should have trusted him. We should have searched for him longer, harder.”

“We did search for him. We’ve been doing nothing else for the past two weeks outside of school.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. And then Cory said, “Kara?”

She turned, something in Cory’s voice clutching at the base of her throat, making it hard to breathe. Since she’d told him of Ischua and the test in Halliel’s Park, he’d been distant, like her own parents, anger simmering beneath the surface. But in the last week that had faded, until it was almost like it had been before. But she heard that distance between them in his voice now.

He met her gaze, his eyes huge. She saw fear there, a strange vulnerability, and buried deep beneath that apprehension, but no anger.

Cory swallowed once, then said, “I don’t want you to go.”

She knew he was talking about the test and the Wielders, still years away, but before she could say anything, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

Heat burned up from Kara’s chest and she felt her neck and ears prickling, knew she was flushed a deep red, that her eyes were wide. She knew she should say something, but her throat had locked, her entire body paralyzed.

Cory had ducked his head down with a choked sob, but he suddenly looked back up, his own face bright red and filled with terror. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and then bolted for the door and stairwell down to their apartments.

“Cory, wait!” She wrenched herself up and ran after him. He’d already vanished down the stairs, and when she reached the door, she plowed into her father coming up from below.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, catching her and holding her close, shushing her. She struggled at first, not certain why she was crying, but after a moment she buried her face in her father’s shirt and clutched him tight.

A moment later, he pushed her back, gently, and knelt down before her. “Hush, Kara. What happened? What’s wrong?”

Kara felt the blush returning and scrubbed at her tear-streaked face with the crook of her arm. “Nothing. Cory doesn’t want me to leave.”

Her father chuckled and brushed the hair from her forehead. “None of us want you to leave, Kara.” His eyes narrowed as her blush deepened, the skin where Cory had kissed her throbbing . . . but then he suddenly relaxed, a smile turning the corners of his mouth, as if he knew what had happened even though she hadn’t said anything. He stood and herded her down the stairs to their loft. “Everything will be fine, Kara. We still have time, a few years at least. Ischua has assured me of this. In the meantime, your mother is waiting with Ischua downstairs. You still want to go to the park, don’t you?”

Kara shoved the turmoil of emotions over Cory to one side and nodded, letting the excitement she’d felt earlier on the roof build again.

When they reached the street—her mother, Ischua, and Cory’s parents already waiting—she smiled at Cory and, even though the air between them throbbed with an awkward tension, she grabbed his hand and broke into excited chatter as they headed toward the park.

A
LLAN HUSTLED DOWN
the crowded walk, dodging the press of people as they edged their way toward the open swath of grass in the park beyond, vying for the best view of the new tower and the rumored spectacle that was going to take place a few hours before sunset. None of them knew exactly what to expect, but everyone had seen the subtowers being lit during the past few weeks and the anticipation had grown, the rumors getting wilder and wilder on the streets. Allan had paid little attention to them, too caught up in the activities of the Dogs and their attempt to find and eliminate all of the Kormanley, and on meeting and surprising Moira. But he could feel the excitement of the crowds now, coming off of the citizens of Erenthrall in palpable waves. It thrummed in his skin and traced lines down his back. His breath quickened as it began to affect him and he pushed deeper into the park, searching for Hagger and the rest of the Dogs. The general city watch was scheduled to patrol the park for the duration of the event and to check those entering the field for anything suspicious, their presence blatant and visible. The Dogs were there to search for the Kormanley and any other dangers as they mingled with the crowds.

And Allan was already late.

“Pup! Where in hells have you been?”

Allan honed in on Hagger’s grating voice, already sensing the anger in it. A moment later he found himself in the empty space that separated the people of Erenthrall from the contingent of Dogs already beginning to break up and spread out around the park.

Allan headed straight for Hagger. “Have you seen the crowd? It took me forever to get through them.”

Hagger snorted in contempt. “You mean you stayed with your little servant girl longer than you should have.” He cuffed Allan hard across the back of his head, as if he were a child. “Don’t do it again, no matter how much you want her ass. She’s only a woman, and you’re a Dog and will always be a Dog. The Dogs come first in everything. We’re assigned the northeast corner, farthest from the main activity. Terrence is our alpha today.”

“Where’s the captain?”

“With the Baron in Seeley Park, along with a small gathering of extremely exclusive guests. The entire park has been sectioned off. Only the Wielders and the twenty or so guests Baron Arent personally invited are allowed in.”

“But it’s nearly twice the size of this one. Why not use this one and open Seeley to the rest of Erenthrall?”

“You saw the barges the Wielders have had built,” Hagger growled. “They claim they need the barges directly beneath the new tower, which for some reason the Wielders have begun calling the Hub, so that means Seeley Park. Now shut up and let’s find our corner.”

Allan had seen the barges being built on scaffolding in the middle of the park, complete with sails, which made no sense. The Dogs had also been told what the Wielders intended for those barges, and Allan didn’t believe it was possible. But that was the Wielders’ problem, not the Dogs’.

Hagger bellowed and a path cleared before them as they made their way across the grass and scattered trees. They reached the northeast corner without trouble, Hagger cursing as a cart drew in front of them, the driver ducking his head within his cowl as the Dog berated him and demanded his vendor’s permit; the cart would already have been checked by the city guard manning the perimeter. He noted their ranks lining opposite sides of the cobbled path that cut down the length of the park. A statue of a soldier, sword drawn and pointed toward the sky, stood on a wide pedestal at the park’s corner, a line of narrow trees screening it from the base of a tower to the east. The Hub rose into the sky to the south, so close that Allan had to crane his neck and shade his eyes from the sun to see the top. It still appeared lifeless to him, the windows darkened, even the veined-leaf texture of its sides strangely flat. But from this distance, he could see the individual leaves that had grown to form its walls. Others protruded outward to form balconies, edges curled up to protect those from falling over the side. Holes gaped wide in the bulbous top.

Raised voices and the sound of thrown punches hitting flesh drew Allan’s attention back to the park, but Hagger had already intervened, seizing the two young boys by the scruffs of their necks, shaking them like sacks of grain as he roared about keeping the peace or they’d face the Baron’s Amber Tower. Then he tossed them to the ground and waited until they’d picked themselves up and scrambled away. Allan moved closer to the statue, noted another cart, its contents covered, making its way toward the front of the park. A third had wallowed out in the grass at the northwest corner.

He frowned and shook his head. Why hadn’t they used the stone walkway?

Then a child screamed and his attention was diverted, the mother’s harsh voice calling the girl back to her side. Allan began scanning faces, looking for pickpockets, for anyone acting suspicious, for signs of the white robes of the Kormanley or their newly adopted symbol. Instead, he saw elders being guided along by their sons and daughters, couples with hands clasped, and families, all drawn toward the south end of the park, most intent on getting as close as they could to the Hub before the festivities began. Performers roamed the crowd—magicians doing tricks for the children, jesters and players capering and cavorting. One enterprising man had set up a folding table and sold chunks of seared meat on sticks, claiming it was chicken.

As the excitement grew, infecting everyone in the park, Allan became more and more anxious. His hand fell to the handle of his sword and he edged backward, until he stood against the base of the statue. From this vantage, he could see most of the park. If he only had more height—

He turned to look up at the pedestal, then caught Hagger’s eye and gestured his intent. The elder Dog nodded permission.

He heaved himself up onto the edge of the pedestal, kept his balance by grasping the raised arm of the soldier, then situated himself so he could see the grove of trees at the southern end of the park. Three more statues stood at the other corners, their bases nearly lost in the crush of people. At least five carts had made it to the front, where even now he could see men and women in Wielders’ robes handing out some kind of sparkling sticks to those gathered. The cart that had wallowed in the grass remained behind, to Allan’s right.

At least five thousand people had gathered, perhaps more. And when Allan glanced back over his shoulder, he could see thousands more packing the streets behind.

A sudden hush fell and Allan spun back, frowning as those beneath the statue touched their arms or hissed sharply to their neighbors. As at the sowing, Allan realized that nearly everyone could feel what was about to happen except for him. The anticipation doubled, all eyes turning toward the Hub, breaths held.

Then, abruptly, light fountained skyward near the base of the Hub and everyone gasped, drawing back. Allan saw a ripple in the crush of people nearest to the Hub as everyone there retreated. Those with the sticks the Wielders had handed out raised them to the sky. But the gouts of light didn’t explode upward as they had at the sowing.

Instead, white light flared in the base of the tower itself, as had happened in the subtowers upon their activation . . . except this was a hundred times more powerful, the tower larger, the light more immense. The light streaked upward, threading through the veins of the leaves and bringing their lifeless forms into sharp and searing relief. The crowd cried out, half in awe, half in fear, as the light roared up the length of the tower, bleeding out of the windows and balconies before reaching its apex and exploding outward in a conflagration so bright that Allan was forced to shield his eyes. His heart thudded in his chest, pounded throughout his entire body, and all around him those gathered reacted to the unexpected brilliance. Children screamed. A few women shrieked. Men bellowed in surprise, a few cursing.

Allan’s hand squeezed the hilt of his sword, but he blinked rapidly, tears forming as his vision cleared. He lowered his hand—

And found the intense white light still burning at the center of the tower’s bulbous top, flaring out of the gaping holes in the tower’s sides like a beacon, like a second sun. It had dimmed enough that he could look at it directly, but it still hurt his eyes. The shaft of the tower had dimmed as well, the light fading from the windows and balconies completely. Only the walls of the tower remained traced with power, the veins of the leaves throbbing with a soft yet still visible green, as if the leaves had been held up to the sun. The previously lifeless tower now beat with a pulse like that of his own heart, steady and potent.

He glanced toward Hagger uncertainly, the crowd around him turning to each other as well, looks of disappointment on their faces. A few murmured, “Is that it? Is it over?”

Allan mouthed the question to Hagger, who shrugged.

It was strangely anticlimactic. And the Dogs had been told to expect more. Had the Wielders’ experiment failed? He had already seen something similar to this display at the subtowers, knew that many of the citizens of Erenthrall had seen the same over the past two weeks. The crowds had grown as each one was activated. Even though the Hub was a hundred times taller and grander, the power behind it infinitely greater, he still felt somehow . . . cheated.

He thought suddenly of his conversation with Moira about the trout and wondered if the awe and wonder of the city had already worn off for him.

And then one of the men close to Allan’s position swore and pointed. “What in bloody hells is that?”

Everyone turned, necks craning, some stepping forward, hands on the shoulders of the person before them. Allan followed the direction of the man’s arm, low on the horizon—

And nearly stumbled backward and off the pedestal, even though he’d been told what to expect by the Wielders. He caught himself on the soldier’s arm as shock drove the breath from his lungs. In the crowd before him, men shouted in alarm, while women clutched at their husbands’ arms. Children buried their faces in their parents’ legs, and a few of the adults actually gasped and fainted dead away. No one moved to catch them, everyone frozen in confusion, in fear and awe.

Above the copse of trees at the southern end of the park, beneath the blazing light of the Hub, the barges built in Seeley Park were rising into the sky. Bases like the barges that plied the river and the ley lines, but with sails rigged flat across the tops instead of vertically on masts, they drifted upward and out from the tower, the sails belled like true sails, but with no wind that Allan could feel or sense. In fact, the cloth of the sails appeared to glimmer, as if suffused with ley light.

The flying boats—Allan counted seven of them—reached the copse of trees at the end of the park, the top branches scraping across the hulls. Once they cleared the branches, the people closest to the trees panicked, even though the ships continued to ascend, all seven shooting away from the Hub in a straight line, separating as they moved, like the spokes of a wheel. The crowd broke, screams rising from the distance, people turning and charging away, trying to stay clear of the ground beneath the ships. But the park was too packed, the ships moving too fast.

The excitement of a moment before peaked . . . and then twisted into raw fear.

“What’s happening?” Hagger demanded, and Allan glanced down to find the Dog had moved to the base of the pedestal.

“The people are panicking. They’re trying to flee from the . . .” he swallowed, “. . . from the flying barges.”

The panic spread. Allan could see it ripple through those gathered, felt it when the wave hit their location. The unease of the people that surrounded them escalated, people shifting, glancing at each other in uncertainty. Most began to edge away as one of the ships headed straight toward their position. The city guard along the walk grew tense. Signal whistles pierced the air from the direction of the worst of the panic, their sound skittering down Allan’s back, but nothing changed. The barge was close enough now that Allan could see people at its edge, hanging over the side and pointing down at those below.

The lords and ladies Baron Arent had invited to Seeley Park.

“We have to do something,” Allan said.

“What?” Hagger demanded.

Allan shrugged. Before he could answer, someone bellowed in a deep, dark, authoritative voice, “Abominations! Look what abominations the Baron has created now! Look at how he twists nature to his own whims!”

Allan’s gaze ripped from the rising ships toward the voice, toward the man who now pointed toward the skies, toward the oncoming ship, and screamed, “Sacrilege! He has perverted the very sanctity of the heavens! He has defied the gods!”

The crowd—on the verge of panic a moment before—paused in confusion, even as Allan narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Kormanley.”

Before anyone could react, the man—face twisted in frenzied rage—threw his arms back and roared, “We shall pay for our hubris! We shall be punished!”

And on his last words, the cart that had wallowed in the trampled grass exploded in a ball of seething flame.

Allan ducked, the park instantly torn with screams of terror and pain, interrupted within a heartbeat by the crump of another explosion, this one distant, coming from the front of the park nearer the Hub. Two more followed, flames enveloping the entire southern side, reaching toward the sky and the ship that passed overhead. The fire caressed the bottom of one of them, the craft rocking in its wake, the wood scorched, but it didn’t catch. The sails thrashed in the backwash, but held, the ship faltering only a moment. Most of the ships had already passed beyond the range of the carts.

On the field beneath, fire raged, catching in the trees to the south. Allan cursed and jumped down from the pedestal to Hagger’s side. The elder Dog was yelling for the crowd to remain calm, but no one could hear him above the shouting. The city guards’ whistles shrieked on all sides.

“The Kormanley have set part of the park on fire!” Allan screamed into Hagger’s ear as the tumult increased. “There are bodies on the field!”