The Fifth City (11 page)

Sorin pushed the messenger toward the door and she recognized him as one of the Scouts that had thought they might approach Seascape by water the other week.

A sly grin crept up to her lips.   So, he was just getting the news, then.

With a series of commands on her datathreads, she saved the vid and sent it by link to Commander Barton and Oliver, with a message requesting they meet that evening to yet again review the city’s defenses.

Rage could make a person do many things, but Naomi was more worried about Sorin’s growing determination, and the greed that had started it all.  Enslaving his fellow cities, attacking the others—he was capable of many things his own people did not understand.

But Lady Naomi had seen it before.  It was part of Seascape’s duty to remember the past.

She rose from the table and broke her direct connection with the drone.  The little black bird would revert to its set course of monitoring Skycity, and she would check on its vids again after her tea.

As she unpacked the trays of cakes and scones from the rolling cart, she wondered if she shouldn’t have rejected the man when he had come to “reunite” the cities.

She shrugged, but then shook her head.

She didn’t like him.

Seventeen

Sylvia had sat through three more teas with Lady Blackwater since the first.  Each was hosted in the strange garden room that seemingly overlooked the cliffs of the island, with its miniature waterfalls, hedges, plants and artificial sky.  Each time, Sylvia tried to get the Lady to talk more about the island and their extraordinary technology, or about the Trials, which were fast approaching.

But the Lady insisted on pestering her with strange and trivial questions, like why she was picked to spy on Lightcity, and about Sylvia’s first meeting with Governor Greyling.  The Lady had an odd curiosity about Sylvia’s intentions, moods, and opinions—it unnerved Sylvia to no end, so she tried to deflect those questions and answer the Lady as vaguely as possible.  The Lady seemed obsessed with gathering every detail.

She spent the rest of the time in her rooms.  Meals were brought to her three times a day, she bathed in the enormous tub, and was dressed in elaborate datawoven gowns by Medina on the occasions she was invited to tea with Lady Naomi.  She had finally gotten her hair trimmed at Medina’s discretion and the false dark shade was nearly gone now, revealing the sandy hair beneath.  Sylvia had nothing more to entertain herself with than eating, bathing, staring at her looking-glass, and contemplating the Trials for hours at a time.  She was close to wishing that the Trials would come sooner, if only to alleviate her boredom.

Neve entered her thoughts almost daily, and she wondered if the girl had made it to Meadowcity yet.  She thought of Sonia, her mother and father, Ven, Flint and Ember, and idly wondered if Lady Naomi would admit to her spying capabilities and let Sylvia look in on them.  But Sylvia still didn’t have any real proof that Lady Naomi was spying on anyone with those looking-glasses.  It just seemed the most likely scenario.  She had no idea how the images were being taken.

After receiving nothing more than tight-lipped silence from Lady Naomi, she begged Medina to show her how the designs on the datawoven fabric worked.  The older woman had finally given in one afternoon before Sylvia was to have tea with the Lady.

A soft black gown lay draped over the edge of Sylvia’s enormous bed, which she had spent no time getting used to sleeping in.  Medina had decided that Sylvia would wear gold that day, to match her ever-lightening hair.

Sylvia watched, enraptured, as Medina trained her gaze on the black gown.  She traced an uneven line, then a circle, along the fabric at her own wrist.  At the same moment, the gown on the bed blossomed from plain black to shimmering gold.  Sylvia’s eyes flickered between Medina and the dress, determined to witness the whole of the phenomenon.

Medina then drew a diamond on her wrist, and a black diamond pattern seemed to melt into the edges of the fabric around the neck, wrists, and hem.

Sylvia had asked to try, but Medina had told her that she needed an earlink to communicate with the data in the fabric—a fact that Sylvia tucked away with what little other information she had managed to gather.

*   *   *

It was the last full day before Winter’s End, the day that held both dread and excitement for the Rider.  She awoke to the scent of fresh bread, tea, and cut fruit, already laid out on the table.  She had yet to see who brought her breakfast every morning, they always seemed to slip in and out of her room without making a sound.

She rose from her cushioned bed and walked to the looking-glass, as she usually did upon waking.  She held her hand to the image for a moment and watched the sunlight on the waves.  She hadn’t been outside in weeks, except for those occasions when she visited Lady Naomi’s fake garden room, which wasn’t even outdoors.  What she wouldn’t give to feel real sunlight on her skin.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow she would leave the castle and go wherever they were holding the opening ceremony for the Trials, as Lady Naomi had hinted there would be.  She truly hoped it would be outdoors.  She was craving fresh air, and even more, the openness of nature, with the sky reaching infinitely above her head; not these endless pristine stone corridors.

She idly ate breakfast, then took another bath, just to have something to do.  Around midday, she had laid out the contents of her pack on her bed again to rearrange once more, when a knock came at the door.

She had been expecting Oliver, who normally brought her midday meal, and used the time to check in on her and see if she needed anything; but Medina stood at the door, a black gown draped across her arm.

Sylvia raised her eyebrows and half grinned at the older woman, knowing it must be another summons for tea with the Lady.

In half an hour, the ruffles of the cream gown she now wore whispered down the hallway as she followed Oliver to the garden room.  Pink slippers peeked out from beneath the skirts, and her blonde hair was swept up, pinned and braided atop her head.

As usual, Lady Naomi was already seated at the small table, today wearing a light blue gown, the datawoven fabric displaying thick silver swirls over the whole dress.  The Lady poured two cups of tea as Sylvia sat and arranged her dress, the skirts of which were far too large for her liking.

“So,” the Lady began, smiling at Sylvia with her cat’s smile.  “Tomorrow you begin the Trials.”

Sylvia only nodded.  She had learned from her previous meetings that Lady Naomi would answer none of her questions about them.

“Are you afraid?” the Lady asked, casually, as if inquiring about the weather.

Sylvia put down her tea.  “I don’t yet know what to be afraid of,” she said carefully, watching the Lady’s expression.  “Only failing Meadowcity.”

“Well said,” the Lady exclaimed, raising her teacup at Sylvia.  “I am very interested to see how you will perform.”

“And if I succeed?  You promise to offer help?”

“I have said I will.”

It was as much as the Lady would ever say.  Sylvia only hoped Seascape would help
enough
so they could overcome Greyling.  It was their only chance at getting outside help, and Sylvia would take it.

She chose a small cake from a tray, because she knew the Lady would say something if she didn’t eat.  As she bit into the sweet frosting, a young man strolled into the garden room as if he owned the place.

Sylvia stared at him, eyes wide.  She hadn’t seen anyone but Oliver, Medina or Lady Naomi for weeks, trapped inside the castle as she was.

Upon seeing the two women, the boy halted on the path, evidently surprised at the garden room being occupied.  His black hair was carelessly ruffled, and his bright grey eyes met the Lady’s before he spoke.

“Apologies my Lady, miss.”  His eyes flicked toward Sylvia, who hoped she didn’t have frosting on her face.

He wore a tight fitting silver-grey shirt that mirrored the color of his eyes, and his black boots that stood on the stone path were the nicest Sylvia had ever seen.

She looked down at her plate, examining the frosting on her cake, and waited for the Lady to speak.

Lady Naomi sighed, then delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin.  She turned to face him.  “I take it you didn’t receive my message, then?”

“Apparently not,” he replied, as he slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“As you can see, I have company,” she said.  “Soon enough we won’t have these little mis-communications.  I’ll meet you at quarter past three,” she said, and turned back to Sylvia, effectively dismissing him.

His eyes flickered to Sylvia, who was surprised to see him wink at her before he turned back down the hallway.  Sylvia took up her cake and took a huge bite, hoping the Lady hadn’t seen.

Who was that? 
she wondered.

Sylvia hadn’t been out in the castle much, except to be escorted to tea in the garden room.  Every time she had left her room alone to go exploring, Oliver seemed to find her somehow, so she hadn’t done much wandering after the first few failed attempts.

She had no idea how many people lived in Castle Tenny, or what even went on in the castle.  For all she knew, it was the place where Lady Naomi held tea, and where they carted prisoners they had captured from the shore; so few were her dealings with Castle Tenny so far.

The Lady made no comment on the interruption, and returned to eating her scone.  When Oliver came to collect Sylvia from the garden room, Lady Naomi wished her luck for tomorrow with her sly smile.

Sylvia returned to her suite and stood in front of the fire in her cream gown, as much of a decadence as the frosted cake she had just eaten.  The boy who had interrupted her tea was already far from her mind, with the impending first Trial weighing heavily on her thoughts with each moment that passed.

While she waited for Medina to come and help her out of her gown, she went to her pack, stored in the wardrobe by whoever came in to clean while she was gone.  She searched until she found the necklace her sister and mother had given her for her last birthday. 

She held it up to the firelight, and stared into the depths of the colored glass bead.

Her fist clenched tightly around the bead.  Tomorrow she would begin Seascape’s Trials.

She would not fail Meadowcity.

Eighteen

Sylvia barely slept, and even when she did lose consciousness, she jolted awake soon after, plagued by dreams of oversleeping and missing the Trial.

Sometime before dawn, with an exasperated sigh, she tore off the heavy covers and went to sit by the fire.  She took the glass bead off the mantle and tied it around her neck.  She would need its strength for whatever was coming today.

Oliver had told her on their way back from tea yesterday that the opening ceremony would begin precisely at sunrise.  She gazed at the looking-glass and saw only a faint haze of pre-dawn light.

Winter’s End.  At home she would be painting stones in bright colors to decorate her hearth, while the family would burn sweet-smelling herbs in the first fire of the spring.  They would throw open the doors and windows, and let in the new spring air.  The whole city would smell of lavender and thyme.

She took a quick bath to refresh her mind and kill time, not knowing if, or when, Medina would come to prepare her for the ceremony.  She savored the scented soaps this time, thinking of home, and wondering how Meadowcity would celebrate the joyous holiday under the mantle of war.

Sure enough, she heard Medina call out from the main room just as she was toweling off.  She took one last wistful second to herself, inhaling the fragrant steam, then opened the door to face the day.