The Fifth City (23 page)

Thirty Six

Each morning Sylvia checked the door, and each morning it still wouldn’t open.  They now brought her plenty of food before she woke, so she had enough to last the entire day.  No one visited.

Often she fell into melancholy when Lightcity crept into her thoughts.  Meadowcity followed close behind.

Each day she sat down with the fabric, willing her mind to access the strands.  Nearly each hour she threw the thing down in frustration.  If she had to wear it, it would probably need a wash.  She laughed out loud as she had that thought, and picked up the dress to lay it across the bench and take a break.

It was her final day before the Trial, and she had yet to make any significant progress.  A few times she had managed to make something appear on the fabric, but it had faded quickly.  She knew the task would be a little more complicated than that.

The other initiates would no doubt be much more adept than some Rider from Meadowcity, who had only learned about datastrands and earlinks a few weeks ago.  Even Atlan knew how to transform the datawoven fabric already.  She had seen his vest the other day in the woods.

She sunk down onto her soft bed and stared up at the ceiling.  She thought back to when Medina had shown her how the fabric worked, and wondered if the woman would come to dress her before the Trial tomorrow.

Medina had simply looked at the fabric intently, drawn a few designs on her own datastrands to give the command, and a complete design had appeared.  Even having conquered making the connection from her earlink to the fabric, Sylvia was still struggling.

The Trial was tomorrow.  She couldn’t stop picturing the massive crowds that had gathered for the two previous Trials.  What would she do if she couldn’t compete?

She would fail.  Lady Naomi wouldn’t give her any help for Meadowcity.

Sylvia had a feeling that the Lady was the kind of person who stuck to her word, and didn’t give second chances.

She sat up.  She had better get back to work.  She forced herself to return her mind back to the strands.

Her looking-glass darkened as the sun fell.  She started to imagine the strain was giving her a headache, but then realized she hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink in hours.  She poured herself a glass of water and looked down at the dress, now hung over a chair.

After focusing on a small corner for the past hour, she had managed to turn the color a little, and it appeared to be staying, even without her constant focus.  But the corner of the dress just looked discolored, not creative.  She frowned.

She ate without paying any attention to what she put in her mouth, all the while staring at the now-hated dress.  She cleaned up in the washroom, and on her way past the fireplace spotted the glass bead her sister had given her, what felt like ages ago.  She swiped it off the mantle, tied the bead around her neck and went back to work.

The room was dim now, with her fire providing the only light, besides the eerie glow that came from the light in the washroom.  She dragged the dress over to the fire and sat.  She had to resist the urge to burn the stupid thing.

Mere hours away, without any real progress, Sylvia’s stomach began to writhe in worry.  Far from tired, her mind was moving quickly, imagining all of the horrible things that would happen if she didn’t learn how to do this
right now
.

She took a deep breath and shook her head to clear it.  Worrying wasn’t going to get her anywhere.  She needed to try something different.

The connection between her earlink and the strands was still active.  She was so good at connecting now, she had been holding it for hours.  She now knew how the others in Seascape had become so adept at the technology; constant use—and desperate need—were excellent teachers.

The fabric shimmered, and the silver strands taunted her in the firelight.  She reached out and pulled the skirt toward her, smoothing it over a knee.  Her eyes bored into the fabric, and she tried to picture a blue circle blossoming out of the silvery black threads.  She stared at one spot, at the individual threads, focusing. 
Blue
, she thought, focusing all of her will.

After several moments, she blinked, and with a groan, let her eyes focus somewhere else to give them a rest.  After a second, she went back to the same spot.  Tentatively, she lifted a finger and let it hover over the same threads.  Before she touched it, she closed her eyes and felt for the connection between her earlink and the strands.  She pictured all of the strands laid out over her knee glowing silver, energy running through them, criss-crossing one another.  She put her finger down and sent thoughts of bright blue running through the threads under her finger with all of her will. 
Blue.  Please, be blue.

Very slowly she lifted her finger and opened her eyes.

It was as if paint had spotted the dress.  She gasped.  Her only
thought was—could she do more?

She put her finger back on the spot of blue and tried to pull the same feeling as she dragged her finger in a line.  She stopped breathing as the blue flew from her fingertip.  She had finally figured out how to transform the datastrands.

She was so elated, she couldn’t stop.  She traced her finger all over the dress in lines and circles and swirls until it was covered in blue designs.  It looked like a child had gotten a hold of some blue paint and her mother’s gown, but it was a thing of miracles to Sylvia.  She couldn’t believe what she had done.  Every new thing she learned in this place surpassed the last.

Other colors came next, which were easy now that she had learned how to manipulate the strands.  Her eyelids grew heavy, but she didn’t care.  She had learned how to make something beautiful with her mind.

Soon she was faced with a different problem:  the dress no longer held any un-colored surfaces.  She stood and held the gown by its shoulders, admiring it in the dying firelight.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see the sky beginning to lighten in her looking-glass.  Morning was coming.  The Trial was only a few hours away.

With a yawn, she draped the dress on her bedpost so she could still admire it as she hastily readied for bed.

She couldn’t believe she had done it—
and without anyone’s help!
  She couldn’t wait to show Atlan; and she finally felt ready to face the third Trial.

At least I can see him tomorrow
, she thought as she got into bed. 
At least I know they’ll let me out of my rooms.

Her eyes closed swiftly and all became dark.

*   *   *

She awoke to the sounds of someone moving about in her room, so she pushed herself up from the soft warmth of her cushions to see who it was.

Medina was bustling about in the wardrobe, and setting some clothes out on the bench.

“Morning,” the older woman greeted her with a grin.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Sylvia gushed, almost wanting to hug the woman.  She hadn’t seen
anyone
in a week.

“Likewise,” Medina said, and handed Sylvia the stack of clothes.

After Sylvia got dressed, Medina had her sit at the table so she could do Sylvia’s hair.  Sylvia looked up at the dress hanging from the bedpost and chuckled.  It looked like someone had thrown paint all over it.  But her heart swelled at the sight of it.

“Nice work, that,” Medina said as she tugged a few strands of hair this way and that.

“Thanks,” Sylvia said with a grin.  She couldn’t believe she had done it.

A knock came at the door, and Sylvia knew Medina must have alerted Oliver with her earlink, he had come so quickly after her hair was finished.  Sylvia lifted a hand to her ear and realized she had actually fallen asleep with her earlink in.

Oliver looked truly apologetic as he greeted her, and offered to escort her to the Trial.  Sylvia was sad to say goodbye to Medina, but as she stepped out of her suite dressed in sleek leggings and a soft white sweater, she realized she would see the woman again soon.  Lady Naomi had promised her tea after the third Trial.

Sylvia decided she was still mad at Oliver for letting them lock her in her room, and wouldn’t talk to him their whole way to the train platform.  As they exited the castle, Sylvia accessed the map and tried to make note of their passage.  They didn’t pass by any rooms of interest, and she wondered if Oliver went this particular way on purpose—so she wouldn’t find anything interesting.  She was sure he knew she had the map.  She felt a little guilty ignoring him.

Oliver’s blue eyes blinked at her with exaggerated sadness as they entered the train.  She weakened.

“Fine,” she said.  “But you had better have a good apology for
locking me in my room
,” she hissed.  The train was filling with citizens, but nowhere near as many as she had expected.  Perhaps they were early.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver pleaded as the train began to move.  Sylvia was almost used to the motion of it now.  She watched as the villas flew by in a fantastic blur.

“I had no choice,” he said gently.  “And it worked, didn’t it?”  His eyes glinted mischievously.

She rolled her eyes and smiled, but then she remembered the other reason she was upset.

“What about Lightcity?”

The grin slid off Oliver’s face.

“There wasn’t anything we could have done,” he said, staring out the window.

Sylvia huffed.

He lowered his voice so that she could barely hear him, “It seems like it was an accident.”

She didn’t ask any more.  She had no choice but to concentrate on the Trial.  She stared out the window and watched another smaller town pass by.  She could tell from the sun that they were headed to the north.  She wondered if the town was the one Atlan had led her to.

The time in the train went by quickly, and it seemed they weren’t going far.  After they passed over a river (Sylvia had stared down at the water below, hoping the bridge was strong enough to hold), the train began to slow, and finally stopped at a platform.

A beautiful and immense castle rose up before them.

It looked like three castles connected in one, with two towers flanking the center building.  Sculpted cornices ran along under the flat roof and below each window, and massive gardens spread out in front of the edifice.  It was the grandest thing Sylvia had ever set her eyes upon.

Oliver led the way off the train and onto a gravel path.  Sylvia’s eyes fled from one thing to another, trying to get a good look at everything.

The gravel was aged white stone, just like the walls of the castle they approached.  Not even the grandness of Castle Tenny, or anything she had seen so far in Seascape matched this place.  It made her feel like she had been transported to a different island entirely.  Her worries of the Trial temporarily fled from her thoughts.

They passed a pool of water with a stone carving of swan and a little boy in the center, from which water was spurting out of.  After that, they passed through a low stone wall and into a garden that lay at the base of two symmetrically angled staircases, which led up to a wide second floor veranda.

Another pool of water centered the garden, this one featuring a woman in the center.  On four points of the circular pool, a set of strange serpents faced inward at the woman.  Oliver had to tug on Sylvia’s sleeve when she stopped to study them.

They didn’t go up either staircase, though.  Instead, Oliver led her through one of the three columned doorways that stood open between the base of the stairs.

There were others heading into the castle as well—she spotted Lena and Talia and gave them a little wave—but there was no sign of a huge crowd like the other Trials had drawn.  Perhaps she wouldn’t have an audience this time.  This Trial felt like it was going to be very different than the first two.

She had assumed the interior would be exactly like Castle Tenny, and was surprised when she passed through the threshold.  There was even more to gape at inside.

Large tapestries were hung from every available surface of the tall corridor walls, giving it warmth and color.  Even the floor was carpeted in beautiful fabric, and she felt like all the sound had been sucked from the air as they walked through, the thick tapestries soaking up any noise.

Sylvia felt oddly at ease entering this place.  It smelled a bit like books and old wood.  Her shoulders relaxed a little, a feeling she had always associated with entering Meadowcity’s gate and gaining safety from the wilds.

No crowd, a welcoming castle; this was turning out to be as far different from the last Trial as night from day.  She narrowed her eyes as they silently walked down the corridor, and chastised herself for thinking Seascape, or Lady Blackwater would make anything easy for her.

There were two directions they could take at the end of the corridor, and Oliver turned left at a strange and dark tapestry, very different from the bright colors and patterns she had been admiring on the others.  This one was mostly black, with a brightly contrasting silver eye that took up the center, and a complex silver pattern woven around the edges.  The eye stared eerily down at them.  The silver thread winked at Sylvia as they passed, and her jaw dropped.

They were datawoven.  Of course.  She whipped her head to look back down the main corridor but Oliver had already turned down another hallway.

The group of initiates was already gathered outside a set of tall double doors in what looked like a waiting area.  Sirena and Nerissa sat in the corner on a cushioned bench, whispering to each other and glancing eagerly at the doors.

Sylvia nodded to Talia and Lena.  Alice lingered by a thin tapestry that ran all the way up to the high ceiling and was all shades of blue—it reminded Sylvia of ocean waves.  The girl gave Sylvia a smile, but it quickly faded, and the pale be-freckled girl went back to gazing at the double doors with what appeared to be dread.  All of their fates resided in there, it seemed.

Last to arrive were Colin and Atlan, and the latter smiled at her as he came to stand by her and Oliver.  Almost immediately, the doors swung inward and the oldest woman Sylvia had ever seen emerged from the room.

Her hair was stark white, and expertly braided and coiled around her head and into a bun at the back.  The lines on her face reminded Sylvia of bark on a tree.  The collar of her lavender and green dress extended up to her ears, gently falling outward, like flower petals.  She used a sturdy wooden cane to propel herself forward.

The woman’s eyes quickly roved over the gathered initiates, as if her ancient eyes could assess their talents in one glance.