The Fifth City (21 page)

Her heart leapt—she could move around the castle!  No wonder Oliver always knew where he was going.  The castle residents probably couldn’t actually tell those identical hallways apart either.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Now
that’s
top secret.”

“Was it Oliver?” she guessed.

He just smirked and kept walking.

“So, you’re sharing it, right?”

“Calm down, there.  I’ve never transferred data before, so I can’t do it on the spot right now.”

“So where’re we going, anyway?”

“You’re cheerful today aren’t you?”

Sylvia laughed and the birds in the trees joined in, chirping from the branches.  “I guess it’s the sunlight and fresh air.”

They had reached a small stream and Atlan hopped over it.  Sylvia followed at his heels, leaping to a damp rock in the middle, and then across.

“So what made you come to Seascape in the first place?”

Sylvia almost rolled her eyes.  “You sound like your mother,” she joked.  He remained silent, and Sylvia cringed.

“Sorry.  Lady Naomi.”

“You know, she’s probably watching us,” he grumbled.

“Really? How does that work, anyway?”  She thought of the looking-glass in her room, and the way the Lady knew about things she shouldn’t….

Atlan looked around at the sun-dappled woods, empty but for the two of them.

“They’re called drones,” he said, still scanning the branches for something Sylvia couldn’t see.

“There,” he pointed, and Sylvia saw the small black bird as it quickly took flight.

“Birds?”

“They
look
like birds.  They patrol the island, and the rest of Arcera sometimes.”

Sylvia’s eyebrows shot up. 
So this was how she did it
.  It was brilliant.  No wonder the Arcerans hadn’t known they were being watched.

For a moment Sylvia considered whether Lady Naomi might be mad at Atlan for divulging Seascape’s secrets, but she didn’t care.  Atlan didn’t seem to be bothered.

“What about your father?” Sylvia suddenly blurted.  The question had burrowed itself in her brain and chose this moment to pop back up.

“My father?” he echoed.

Sylvia held her breath.  She knew he hated to admit that Lady Naomi was his mother.  But the curiosity burned just the same—what about his other family?

“He stays at the castle in Brightstone—he and Lady Naomi don’t get along much anymore,” he mumbled.

Sylvia didn’t press any further, but he continued.

“He’s a little older than her—name’s Ingram.  I only see him if I go to visit.”

His tone implied that it wasn’t often, but she wouldn’t pry.  She knew she was lucky to have the family she did.

A surge of emotion washed over her as she thought of her own family, and how much she missed them.  She quickly tried to wipe away the wetness that had gathered in her eyes without Atlan seeing.

But he trudged on ahead, flecks of light dappling his shoulders.

“You hungry?”  he asked, and picked up the pace.

*   *   *

He led her to a nearby cluster of dark-roofed houses; another town, he’d told her, just outside the woods.  He bought them each something called a pasty, which turned out to be the most delicious thing Sylvia had ever eaten.

They walked back through the woods, nibbling on the warm vegetable-and-meat-filled dough in a comfortable silence.  Today was turning out to be the best day Sylvia had had in a long time.

They came to a small clearing in the woods, and without a word, both sat down against some low-lying stones that sat in the middle of the grassy patch.

Sylvia licked the remains of her pasty off her fingers, and wondered if she could get Oliver to bring her something like it the next time he brought her a meal in her rooms.

Then she cringed—she was going to have to go back to the castle, back to the underground maze-like halls, except…

“What about the map?”

Atlan jerked out of a daze; his eyes had been closed, his head propped against one of the rocks.

He gave her a lazy smile.  “Alright, alright, I’ll try.  Do you have something datawoven?”

She answered by rolling back her left sleeve, revealing the distinctive black fabric that encased her wrist.

He sat up straighter and closed his eyes, all business now.  Sylvia waited in silence for a moment, knowing that he was connecting to his datastrands, probably searching for the map.

Barely opening up his lips, he breathed, “You need to connect, too.”

Sylvia’s cheeks flushed red, and she was glad he had his eyes closed.  Obediently she closed her eyes and focused on her earlink.  It only took a few moments until she felt the strange feeling of connection that snapped her mind sideways, as she always thought of it.  She was getting much quicker now.

“Try looking for it, I think I sent it….” Atlan murmured from beside her.

Sylvia reached inside her mind and focused on the datastrands that she pictured glowing at her forearm.  She had accessed the map of the cliffs by imagining turning a page in a book, so again she pictured a layer of light peeling up, like turning a page, to reveal the information.  Her right hand moved absently through the air, mimicking a page-turning motion.

And something was in the datastrands.

As if recalling a memory, she saw a flickering glimpse of a hallway, not the sharply detailed map like she thought it would be.

But the cry of a crow rang loudly through the clearing, and her concentration dropped.  Her eyes snapped open.

“Was that one of the….drones?” she asked, watching the bird flee through the trees.

Atlan shook his head.  “Too big.”

Sylvia shrugged.  “I think I got something, but it wasn’t a map, more like a….picture?”

Atlan nodded.  “You got it then.  It’s a little different than the map of the cliffs they gave us.  Once we’re back inside the castle, you’ll see.”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow at him, but he just chuckled and leaned back on his rock.

“You never said why you came here,” he murmured, eyes closed again as he basked in the afternoon sun.

Sylvia sighed.  “Greyling’s attacking our cities, I thought it was obvious.”  It was hard not to keep the bitterness out of her voice.  She leaned back on the rocks with a
flump
.

“No, I meant, why are
you
involved?  You’re pretty young to be out doing this.”

“I’m a Rider,” she said.  “And I’m only a bit younger than you.”  She swatted his arm with the back of her hand.

“What’s a Rider?” he asked.

It felt odd that she had to describe something that everybody in the Four Cities knew.  But then she realized that Atlan had been doing that with her—and so had Oliver and Lady Naomi—describing things that were perfectly normal in Seascape, but wild and outlandish to her.

“I travel between the cities for a living.  Carrying messages, setting up trade, escorting people.  The cities are several day’s travel from each other, and we don’t have a train or anything like you.  And you have to be trained to protect yourself in the wilds.”

She took a deep breath in thought.  “I was carrying a message from Governor Greyling back home, and it turned out to be a declaration of war.  After that, I was sent to Riftcity—they were attacked first—to figure out what was going on.”

Atlan interrupted.  “When did this happen?”

“Uh….Right before Summer’s End.  My friend Ven, and a boy from Riftcity came with me.  We got out with Flint’s sister, but couldn’t do anything about the city.  And then Greyling spotted us leaving.”

He turned to look at her, and she stared into the woods, feeling his gaze on her face.

“They have these explosives, and apparently don’t have any rules against throwing them right at
teenagers
,” she spat.

Now her blood was starting to boil at the thought of it all again.  She had been concentrating so hard on passing the Trials that she had buried the reality of the war.  But this was why she was here, right?  And for some reason she didn’t feel as awkward telling Atlan about it.  It wasn’t like when Lady Naomi had questioned her during all of those teas.

“Anyway, my leg got burned, and by the time we got back to Meadowcity, the Scouts had taken it.”  She pulled up her legging to show him the burn, the mottled skin that marred the entire side of her calf.

Atlan’s face contorted with shock.

“Gero let them in the city.  He’s smart.  Wooden walls don’t last long against fire.”

“But Ven and Flint got captured in Riftcity.  They showed up with some bombs they had stolen, and distracted Greyling’s Scouts long enough for us to make a stand.  Turned out they didn’t want a taste of their own fire power.”

“How’d you get here then?” Atlan asked again.

“Once the snows melted, Gero sent me to Lightcity.  Their governor apparently bought Greyling’s threat, and duped the city into working for him.  I ran into this girl, Neve, and we came here right away.  She said a group of Scouts was leaving to come here, so we followed them.”

Atlan cleared his throat.  “And Lady Naomi said she’d help you if you did the Trials.”

It wasn’t a question.

“It was linked to everyone in Seascape when you came,” he explained.  “Oliver told me about it.”

“That’s it,” she sighed and leaned back on the rock.  She closed her eyes, eager to soak up as much sunlight as she could before they descended back into the castle.  The longer she could forget about the war, about the Trials, the better.

They sat for a long while in silence in the warm sun, but eventually one of Sylvia’s many questions about Seascape bubbled up.

“How come you don’t get an earlink until the Trials?” she asked.

“You have to prove yourself worthy of….Seascape’s heritage.”  His voice had turned strange—hesitant maybe?  “They’ve been doing it for a long time,” he muttered.

“How long?”

“Since the beginning.”

“They’ve had this kind of technology since then?” 
The Four Cities were formed over a thousand years ago!

“Not….all of it,” he hedged.  “But the Trials have been around since just after the island was settled.”

There was definitely something strange about his tone of voice now.

Then Atlan said in a completely different tone, enough to make Sylvia open her eyes and look at him—“You know you can’t trust her, right?  She’ll stick to her word, but she has this way of doing things….”

Sylvia knew exactly who he meant.

“Whatever help she can give me, it’s more than we’ve got right now,” she replied, perhaps more for herself than for Atlan.

If she didn’t keep telling herself that, she would never be able to finish the Trials.

He nodded.  His bright grey eyes looked sad, and he finally said, “We should get back.”

In silence they picked their way through the now dusky wood.  When they emerged onto the hill with the hidden door, the sky was shot through with pink; and the sun sunk slowly into the ocean as they approached.

Sylvia followed Atlan back into Castle Tenny; feeling as if she was walking back into reality.

Thirty Two

Sylvia and Atlan walked back through the castle in a pleasant silence.  Despite the walk, Sylvia’s body was becoming incredibly sore from her night spent climbing the cliffs.  She could barely lift her arm to open the door to her rooms when they reached it.

She looked up at Atlan to thank him for taking her outside, when suddenly his face was right in front of hers.  A hot sensation shot up from her chest to her face, bringing warmth to her cheeks.  Just as quickly, she felt his lips brush her hot cheek, and he drew back, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Thank you,” he said.

She was rooted to the spot.

He continued, unashamedly, “I really needed to get out of here for a while.”

Sylvia’s hand was glued to the doorknob, and she was unable to speak.

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” he said and turned down the hallway, giving her a small smile in parting.

“Sure,” she breathed, not even sure if she had said it loud enough.

*   *   *

The rest of her afternoon passed in a muddled daze of aching muscles and thoughts of her walk—and what had happened at the end of her walk—with Atlan.

It wasn’t until after sunset that she remembered about the map he had given her.  Once her looking-glass had darkened, and the view of the southern shore was silhouetted by the light of the rising moon, she had made up her mind.  Tonight, she would try to explore the castle by using the map, while—she hoped—the castle was sleeping.

The thought of Atlan still awoke an electric sensation deep in her chest, and she belatedly wondered if she liked him.  The memory of their walk, and their time spent lounging in the forest made her smile, but then she narrowed her eyes at herself in the reflection in the looking-glass.  She had to focus on the Trials.  She had a job to do.

Not to mention the guilty thoughts of Ven that rose up every so often.  Ven, home in Meadowcity.  Ven, distant since before she left.  She had thought that perhaps at their parting he would say something—do something.  She wasn’t even sure how he felt about her anymore.

Then there was Atlan.  Sly, clever Atlan.  He had spent hours with her over the past week, helping her learn about Seascape and it’s strange technologies.  And today…

But she couldn’t forget the fact that he was Lady Naomi’s son, even if
he
liked to pretend that he wasn’t.

She brushed the thoughts of Atlan and Ven aside as she adjusted her datawoven half-sleeve and sat down on the floor in front of the fire.  She told herself that her feelings shouldn’t matter now, while the war was on.  But if she got some happiness from this place—from Atlan—it couldn’t be a bad thing, could it?

She shut her eyes, and in the familiar blackness, she reached out to create the two points of light that would allow the earlink and datastrands to connect.

It took even less time than before.  She grinned as she felt the sudden shift in her mind that she had grown accustomed to.  Apparently having to connect on the cliffs last night had done wonders for her concentration.  Doing it in the comfort of her rooms was a breeze.

She took a steadying breath as she willed the connection to hold, and opened her eyes.  Now it was time to find the map.  She thought back to how she had accessed it in the forest with Atlan; how she had used her fingers on the sleeve to mimic turning a page.  She took another deep breath and simultaneously flicked two fingers across her sleeve as she imagined the data revealing itself.

There
.  Her heart beat fast as an image swam up in her mind’s eye, as if from a memory.  Her eyebrows crinkled together as she realized what it was.

A set of rooms—it had to be hers—shown from above.  She could clearly identify the main room, with the washroom off of one corner, and the recessed nook that held her table.  The image was blurry around the edges, but on the other side of where her door stood, she could see a partial view of the corridor.

What struck her most were the words.  Five words shown, imposed over the image of her room:
 

Parkhurst Suite (Sylvia Thorne, Meadowcity)
 

Sylvia lifted a hand to her heart as she studied the image more.  She had never seen anything like it in her entire life.  How could she be viewing an image like this?  Her heart raced under her fingers.

She took a long breath in through her nose, trying to calm herself down, not wanting to break the connection with the map or her earlink.  She stood, already wondering what would happen when she moved into the corridor.

As she approached the door, she kept the image in her mind, and, to her amazement, it moved with her.  This was nothing like the map of the cliffs.  This was some sort of living map.

She put her hand on the doorknob and turned, peeking her head out into the corridor before going out.

Now she could see the outline of the room across from hers, titled
Seaview Suite (Vacant)
.

She actually leapt in the air as she tried to decide which way to turn.  This was the most amazing thing she had ever seen!

Deciding to go to the left, she read the names of the different suites and rooms located on either side of the corridors that she walked down.  She puzzled over how the map worked, labeled so clearly with words, and moving with her as she walked.

Some rooms were things she understood, like meeting rooms or offices, but when she came across a room titled
Observation
, she paused.

She glanced up and down the hallway, and, seeing no one, put her hand on the doorknob.  With the slightest turn, she discovered that the door was unlocked.

With the knob half turned, she debated whether there could be anyone inside this oddly named room.  The other rooms in this corridor seemed to be work-related, and it was approaching midnight, so the chances seemed low for encountering anyone.  She turned the knob.

The door opened silently at her push and she edged it open to reveal a dimly lit room, about the size of her suite.  Softly flickering light invited her in.  Realizing it was indeed empty, she entered, eager to get out of the corridor and away from the chance of discovery.

Two sturdy tables took up the center of the room, and the walls were lined with looking-glasses.  A bright flash of light caught her eye, coming from one of the tables, and she realized that they were looking-glasses, too.  She walked around to the far table, curious at what the bright light was.  Its surface practically lit the room with its glow.

She set her eyes on the image and sunk into the stool there.

Her heart fell to her feet, and she looked away.  The image wasn’t live, she could tell, because it kept repeating, over and over.

She stole another glance at the looking-glass to see it again.

The explosion.

Lightcity.  Destroyed.

Over and over again she watched the city of light as multiple explosions enveloped and obliterated the city center, in what was clearly the result of Skycity’s bombs.

Her mouth wide in horror, she forced herself to look away.

She wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her shirt, and dragged herself away from the looking-glass table, but her eyes remained glued to the destruction.

Finally she glanced at the other table and was shocked to see a view of Meadowcity, surprised that she didn’t notice it on her way in.  Was
this
live?  She rushed around to look.

Were they still alright, as the looking-glass showed?

She gripped the edges of the table and leaned in, studying her home.  She stared at the treewall and watched the far-off figure of one of the Defenders, walking around the parapet.

She shot a guilty glance at the other looking-glass.  Over and over, the lights flashed.

Tears pricked in her eyes, contorting her face into a painful grimace as she let them roll down her cheeks.  She sunk down to the floor as it hit her; with her back against the table leg, she covered her face in her hands.  Lightcity was gone.  All those people.

She had only been there a few weeks ago.  What luck had it been that the first person she had run into was Neve—Neve, whose home was now destroyed.  Had the girl made it to Meadowcity safely?

A fresh round of tears ensued as she realized she hadn’t even thought of the girl in weeks.  Their whole city, gone.

What happened?  Was Greyling retaliating against them for something?  Did it have something to do with the Scouts’ unsuccessful trip to Seascape?

She slammed her fists into the ground beside her, and stood, going back to table that showed Lightcity.  She studied the flat image, now blurry through tears.

At the bottom of the table, several numbers flashed continuously, but a few seemed stuck in the corner: 099
.27-03. 
She fought to comprehend it.  They were nothing like what Arcerans used to record the date, which was what she hoped the numbers would be. 
When did this even happen?

She wiped her eyes and looked up and around the room, the first time she had really studied it since entering.  Like windows to different worlds, three walls held an array of looking-glasses, all at head height.  A shallow stone counter ran around the room, but it was completely bare.

Various images of Arcera shone out at her, some lighting the dark room with their glow; others were black.  She figured the dark images were live—like the looking-glass in her room—and the other daytime ones were set to repeat, like the one of Lightcity.  They must be studying those.

Sylvia glanced guiltily behind her.  The bright light flashed repeatedly every few seconds.  She edged toward the wall closest.  Some images were immediately recognizable, and Sylvia’s eye was drawn to the looking-glass on the far left.

It was a fast-moving view of Riftcity, and she pictured a bird-drone soaring between the cliffs to capture the image.  She put her hand down on the counter as she felt a weird swooping in her stomach, so she looked away for a moment.

The other looking-glasses showed views of the other cities mostly, and Sylvia finally understood what
Observation
meant.  Seascape was observing all of Arcera.  Watching.

But not doing anything.  Not a single thing to help the Four Cities, besides watch as they were destroyed, and give a small hope to one girl from Meadowcity—but even that help had to be earned.

The tears had stopped flowing, and she wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands.  She took a deep, shaky breath and decided she was done exploring for the night.

She spent a few more moments watching Meadowcity, having trouble tearing herself away from the image of her home, but she knew she should get back to her rooms.  She felt sick.

It wasn’t until she was back in her soft bed that she realized that all of the images were just of the Four Cities.  None of Seascape.

Next time she used the map, she would try and find
that
room.

Thirty Three

Ven fell to his knees.  The pain that reverberated through his bones went unnoticed.
They had scaled the wall and run as far as they could away from the fires and explosions, and finally stopped at a rise a safe distance away.