Boundary (19 page)

With this last note, I understand. Not that the revelation brings me any joy or peace. The theory I’d only speculated
about with Jasper was correct. New North and The Lex—and everything about our entire history and world—is a lie. Worse, it is fiction of the most evil sort: the kind that’s dressed up as the truth.

XXXV
.

“I think you can start your Chronicle this afternoon, Archon Eva,” Theo says as I’m entering a note in the log on the eighth piece of Tech from the
Genesis
dig. At first I think I misheard. I’m deep into a query about whether this Relic’s slightly more silvery sheen is attributable to weathering or the original patina application. In fact, I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly.

“I’m sorry, Archon Theo. Do you mind repeating what you just said?”

“I said, I think you can start your Chronicle of the
Genesis
this afternoon.”

“I don’t understand. It is yours to write.” It’s unheard
of for the junior Archon to take the lead on the Chronicle. Like everything else in New North society, status prevails.

He offers an encouraging smile. “We only have seven days until the Founders’ Day celebration. You heard the announcement at this morning’s gathering; the Chief Archon would like a commemoration of the
Genesis
excavation and its Relics at that celebration. The whole population will be in attendance, after all. I think you need to start working on it if it’s to be completed in time.”

“You want
me
to write it?” I have to ask the question out loud. I am incredulous.

Folding his arms over his generous belly, he says, “I may be a proud Archon, but I’m not so arrogant that I can’t admit when one of my fellow Archons has a gift that I do not. Archon Eva, the Gods gave you the gift of writing. I may be able to cobble together an exacting description of a Relic and its pre-Healing purposes, but I’ve never been able to captivate the people like you did with your Testing Chronicle. And the Founders’ Day celebration is a time for captivation.”

I bow my head in acceptance of his praise, a Maidenly gesture I can’t seem to shake. “Thank you for your kind compliments, Archon Theo. But I’m wondering whether Archon Laurence approves of this selection. I don’t want to challenge your authority, but he is in charge of the
Genesis
excavation, and his dislike of me is ill-concealed.”

Theo smiles again. It’s warmer, more open, somehow disconcerting. “I don’t tell my brother everything, Archon Eva. We all have our secrets regardless of The Lex, don’t we?”

I freeze. Secrets again. He’s pretty much repeated verbatim what I can only construe as a veiled threat. Or am I misreading him? Just when I’d stopped waiting for him to
accuse me of breaking into the Conservation Chamber that night, he speaks again of secrets.

He stands there, anticipating some sort of response from me. I’m debating whether he’s awaiting my acceptance of his assignment or my reaction to his cryptic reference when he says, “Your answer?”

“I’d be honored. Just as long as Archon Laurence won’t be”—I struggle to find a word to describe the breadth of his unpleasantness and settle on—“unhappy when he finds out?”

“Why don’t you leave the details of that up to me, Archon Eva. You keep your focus on the Gods-given task of writing the Chronicle, all right?”

“Yes, Archon Theo. Thank you for the privilege.” I bow once more. “Would you like to discuss it before I begin?”

“I leave the writing to you.” He pauses for a tick, then says, “But I will share with you what I felt when I first saw the main deck of the
Genesis
and all that Tech, in case it bears on your decision about how to frame your work. I felt gratitude. Gratitude that our Founders were brave enough to reject the only deity they’d ever known—Apple—and to embrace the true Gods. If they hadn’t been so courageous, mankind would not have been granted a second chance. We wouldn’t be standing here today.”

Admiring Theo as I do, even liking him, it’s hard for me to listen to him without wanting to scream the truth at the tops of my lungs. But I must remain silent if I am to do my duty. So I lock up the real story of New North and its Gods deep inside, knowing that I can only reveal the truth to Theo at the same time I share it with the rest of our island.

T
HIS LIBERTY
I’
M BEING
granted is unusual; only in the
Testing do young people write Chronicles. Possibilities drift through my mind as we walk through the labyrinthine corridors to the Scriptorium. Only when we arrive, when I see the tools I need to write, does one particular idea take hold. One that may make Theo lament his decision when he hears it read aloud. The truth can be bitter. But empty lies are far worse.

I will draft a Chronicle that honors Madeline’s discovery in the hull of the
Genesis
and vindicates her quashed suspicions. One that honors Elizabet and all the voices silenced by history, and one that resurrects them. One that will cause a furor in those who know the truth—and serve as a trap for the one who killed my brother.

XXXVI
.

Once again, I find myself sneaking out of my home, in violation of The Lex. But am I really? I am an Archon. I have the right to move about in ways that other Maidens, or even Gallants and Ladies, do not. Even though bells have passed since the Vespers Bell sounded, and the doors of the Aerie have all closed for the night, I feel an urge to walk right out the front door and stroll down the streets, as is my Gods-given right as a member of the Triad.

But I’d be lying if I did so. I’m not venturing out of my home in my capacity as an Archon, and so I cannot tempt the Gods, or whoever oversees our world. I cannot lie in that regard if I am to serve the truth. No, I must lie in other ways.

I must arrive at the Hall of Archons when the moon
stands at its peak, so I slip out of my house by way of the icy turret walls once again. Funny how a route that once felt dangerous now seems commonplace.

Devoid of people, the streets glisten in the moonlight like the sleeping castle in a forbidden tale told to me once by my Nurse Aga. For the second time since my return from the Testing, I am alone wandering down the ghostly white streets, enjoying my solitude. I pass the tower I stood upon with Jasper and pause to look at it from the outside, thinking again about the Northern Lights festival—

Foolish.

The light from the Guards’ torches creeps around the corner just before it hits the toe of my
kamiks
. How could I be so stupid to forget for one tick to keep watch for the rounds of the Ring-Guards? Crouched down low, I wait for any sight or sound of the Guards to pass.

Once I’m certain that they’ve moved on, I race down the street and across the square to the Hall of Archons. At least I’m no longer daydreaming. Near the back wall, Lukas is waiting, a dark shadow against the endless whiteness of the Aerie.

“Where have you been?” he demands. His black eyes betray a mixture of concern and irritation. Even though Lukas can sit for an entire
sinik
over a seal hole waiting for the perfect moment to harpoon a surfacing seal, he never shows patience with me. Not that I can blame him in this instance.

“I had to wait out the Ring-Guards’ rounds.” I don’t want to tell him that I almost got spotted. Confessing would give voice to the reason why: I lost focus because I was thinking about Jasper. He nods, though his face is cloudy and uncertain. Without speaking, we get out our
equipment. I hand Lukas a sealskin rope, and he shoots the line over the wall. We strap on our bear-claw boots and hook onto it. Raking over the slick wall to give it a rougher texture, we begin to climb. We act in unison as though we are one instead of two, the way we were right after Eamon’s death. For a brief instant, I am almost comforted.

The moment we crest the wall, I take the lead. Since Lukas’s fall through the intentionally thin section of the roof—a booby trap, no doubt—I’ve been studying the ceiling, marking possible pitfalls. The study has paid off. Mere ticks later we are lowering our lines down the interior wall and dropping into the Yard. After we hide all evidence of our presence, I take Lukas by the hand, wordlessly leading him through the warren of corridors to the Conservation Chamber. I light my
naneq
, and a silvery glow fills the room. There all the Tech awaits.

Lukas jumps to rush to it, but I place a hand on his shoulder. With my other hand, I motion for him to pause. Reaching into my pack, I slide out a piece of fabric and place it next to the Tech. I want no sign of Lukas’s charger left for Theo to find in the morning.

The rooms brightens further as Lukas powers up the first Relic. Over his shoulder, I see a dizzying array of small squares appear on the screen. It’s clear that he knows precisely which one to examine; he returns to the Manifest we’d been examining last time.

As he scrolls down the pages of the document, I ask him questions about the entries. My inquiries must be annoying him, because he whispers, “Why don’t you do some investigation in one of the other rooms? I’ll come to get you if I find anything new.”

“Lukas, this is what we came to find. I want to be here
for any discoveries.”

“Eva, you are losing out on the chance to uncover something else that might be important. Remember how I told you that some of the answers we seek might be in archives? In the oldest documents, not the Tech? Why don’t you look there?”

I don’t like being dismissed, but he makes a point. The Vault is nearby, and I’ve always wanted access without the unblinking stare of the Scribe. “All right. But the tick you find—”

“I’ll come for you. I promise. Just tell me how to get there.”

I acquiesce in as few words as possible, then pad down the hallway and up the stairs. Passing by the open doorway to my father’s office, however, I hesitate. I’ve never been inside. Our paths rarely cross in the Hall of Archons after the morning prayer. I certainly have no official reason to be in the Chief Archon’s office.

I peek through the doorway. A large wooden desk and chair preside over the room with cold authority. A diptych bearing emblems of the Gods sits in the corner, a prayer mat humbly set before it. Scrolls are strewn on the desk and work table, and on the wall hangs a document. It’s not part of The Lex; it’s something I’ve never seen.

Curious, I draw closer and hold my
naneq
to it.

It is my father’s Chronicle—the very one that won him the Chief Archon seat. Usually, Chronicles are stored in the vault after each Testing year, but he must have received permission to hang his on the wall once his term began. My eyes narrow and my heart begins to pound. I’ve heard stories about his excavation of the mirror Relic, but I’ve never seen the actual Chronicle or heard it read
aloud before.