Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (4 page)

I run my finger over the book that he’s reading—
Othello.
I only vaguely recall that one. I have never shared Berg’s passion for stories—our life is more interesting than those stories.

He claims the books are an escape, a place where he can, for a moment, forget the world in which we truly live.

I don’t push the issue. They make him happy, and there is precious little in our icy existence that can offer that. I see enough of reality for the both of us.

“Where were you this afternoon?” he asks, leaning against the desk, studying the book in his hands.

“I needed to think. Out by the pine,” I answer. I don’t add that if he had looked, he would have found me. I don’t need to. Berg can read my subtext almost better than I can.

He doesn’t address it. He looks at his feet, bare in the firelight. “I don’t understand you lately.”

I hear what he isn’t saying—what he said last night. I have never openly questioned her before—but it makes me angry that he is taking her side.

“I’m allowed to question why she would risk our lives. Why she would force a child into such danger,” I say evenly, despite the fear that makes my heartbeat triple.

“It’s her choice. She doesn’t have to let any of us live here,” he reminds me.

That makes it worse. I didn’t think it was possible to be angrier but it is. I jerk to my feet. “So I should be content because she feeds us? Because we’re warm and educated, it should be acceptable that she’s sending a six year old over the edge of a waterfall?” I demand, all of the anger from last night rushing back. Why is he pushing this?

His eyes are full of warning when he meets my look. “You don’t know her reasons for this, Sabah,” he says, his tone superior and full. I hate him when he’s like this.

“Of course I don’t,” I retort. “None of us do. She takes the briars and vanishes into her study for weeks. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

But my thoughts aren’t on the Mistress and her betrayal—I’m used to that. They’re on Berg. How can he choose her, defend her, when he knows how furious I am? Is it simply that he doesn’t know how to cope in the face of my anger? It’s unusual, for me. I am the steady one—I always have been. He is the one prone to bouts of high emotion, to tears and rages. But this seems different—the defense is personal.

“I am allowed to be afraid, Berg. I raised her—she’s
mine
,” I whisper, and turn away, trying not to focus on the distance that separates us. When did it get so big?

He catches me at the door, his hand gentle, and the pity in his eyes hurts. So does the silent apology, the one he will not speak. “Don’t go, Sabah,” he whispers, pleading.

I resist his pull, wanting to escape. “What do you know about the Mistress’ plan for us?”

He releases me and steps back, suddenly tense. “What do you mean?”

I stare at him, silent, and he huffs. “She wants me tested at the University. You know I’ve always done well with studies.”

“So does Spiro, but she isn’t offering him a life in the City,” I answer, mildly. “What about me?”

“She hasn’t said,” he answers, too quickly. Something tightens in my belly and I force down the anger.

“Do you remember Hawke?” I ask, looking at him from under my lashes. He stiffens and I smile. “Oh, you do.”

“What does he have to do with this?” he snaps.

“The Mistress wants me to wed into the tribes. Hawke seems the logical choice, since we have history.”

His eyes darken and narrow, and he reaches for me, catching my wrist. I smile, mocking and hard, as he pulls me close. He catches my free hand, holding both of them behind my back, leaving me little room to move.

“No. You’re mine, Sabah.” His voice brushes my neck a heartbeat before his lips, and I shiver, sudden desire warring with simmering anger. I force myself to remain stiff as his other arm comes around me, cradling me against his warm body. It is so familiar—more than Hawke ever will be—and without wanting to, I relax into him. He murmurs, a soft noise of encouragement as I twist free, clutching his hair. I jerk his head down, finding his lips in the darkness, and it feels right. I kiss him, harsh and demanding, trying to push my future away, to drown out choices I don’t want to face. His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back and he nibbles at my neck. And for a moment, as his lips make my heart race, and his fingers fumble with my buttons, I feel nothing but him, not anger or my constant worries, not even the blinding fear for Kaida. For a heartbeat, an hour, a breathless eternity, there is nothing but him and me and nothing separating us.

When he lies still at last, sweat covering his back in a sheen that I lazily rub, a pair of eyes flare in my vision. I gasp, and he looks at me. I shake my head, and hide in his chest, and he holds me.

I wonder in silence, why, with Berg so near me, the golden eyes of a ban-wolf fill my mind.

The rain is a mixed blessing.

I can’t see clearly, which makes it almost possible to ignore why we’re here. Mistress gave the children over to Cook after a light breakfast of oats and honey toast. Then she led our small procession—herself, Berg, me, Gwen, and little Kaida—into the icy cold.

A small weathershield protects Gwen and me as we watch Berg strap Kaida into her rigging. Watching propels me into memories—I feel like I am being strapped in again, waiting to swing over the abyss. I can feel the sting of the alloy metal that Mistress bought on our first trip to the City when I was four, the straps cutting into my thighs.

It’s older now—the shine has faded, straps have been replaced. Parts are pitted and marked with the acid from fire-lizards. The thought makes me look up. At least this rain isn’t an acidstorm.

Kaida is shaking. I can see the tremble in her hand as she takes the bag that Berg extends to her. She’s terrified. Her wide gray eyes find me, and I force a smile that I don’t feel. I wonder if she sees through it.

Mistress makes a noise deep in her throat, a slight warning. Kaida’s grip on the bag tightens and she loops it over her shoulder before she clenches the rope. For a second, it seems that time stills. Then Berg taps a command on his control tablet and the lift swings her up and out. She shrieks as her feet flail in the open air and I can’t help but remember the sensation—the terror—from only a few days ago. Berg taps at his tablet again, Mistress murmuring to him, and I hold Kaida’s gaze.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I murmur into the earpiece I’m wearing. I can hear her frantic breathing, the soft noises of fear she is struggling to contain over the roar of the water.

“Breathe, Kaida. Count with me,” I begin, keeping my voice slow and steady. She dangles in her harness, and when I reach thirty-seven, she joins me. Slowly, her breathing steadies. “You ready, sweet?” I ask, and her counting falters. Above the Falls, she nods, determinedly, and I murmur, “Good girl.” I give Berg a quick thumbs up.

Another tap on the tablet, and the lift jerks, and then lowers. I can’t move closer to the edge—can’t follow her with my eyes. The fire-lizards swarmed the cliff top once, when I was seven. Berg was hurt in the melee. Since then, Mistress keeps fires burning to keep them at bay while we harvest from behind the falls. They don’t like the smoke.

Even after four years of watching from the cliff top, I can see the scene play out in my mind. Kaida’s voice is shrill when she calls my name, and I know her feet are soaked, immersed in the bone bruising water. This is the trickiest part for Berg—throwing her through the Falls to reach the tunnel behind them, without hurling her into the cliff itself.

“Hold your breath, Kaida. Count,” I say.

All of the children are taught the counting skills—close your eyes, and hold your breath. Count to twenty. Again. Thirty. Again. Forty. Again. Again.
Again
.

I push away the anger that surges in me, and focus on the noise in my headset. Above the water, her breathing is even. I hold up three fingers, and feel Gwen and Berg tense on either side of me. “Deep breath,” I whisper, and lower a finger.

Dangling in the air over the gorge, I hear a sharp inhale, and my fist closes.

The noise is deafening, pulling me back to all the times it had been me, tugged by the water, buffeted and slammed against the rocks, the icy terror of it rushing all around me. I can
feel
it, and I drop to my knees. It’s the first hurdle—will she reach the rocks, will the water destroy her, will it rip her from the harness and throw her against the jagged shards below? It has happened before. I hold my breath with her, and hope.

Berg is intent on his tablet, and then looks up, a smile turning his lips. The noise in my earpiece changes. A weight slides off my heart, and my breath rushes from me in a choked sob. I would know that noise anywhere—the roaring echo of the Falls in a hollow space.

Mistress is watching me, and I force myself to focus, to do my job. “Kaida, the tunnel is on the right side. Do you see it?”

I look at Berg for confirmation. He is frowning at his screen, tapping gently at the arrows that move the Lift. “Wait, Kaida. Just wait,” I murmur.

There is a long moment of waiting, and then a sharp gasp from her. “I see it.”

I nod at Berg, and he taps the panel until I hear her grasp the rocks. They skitter, unnatural in the unceasing sound of water.

“I have it,” she whispers, and I can almost taste her fear, it’s so palpable.

“Remember, Kaida. Feet first,” I instruct, and I hear her wiggling along the slick rocks. “Go slow, sweet.”

There’s a strange crackle and pop, and then silence.

Our communication is over. She has two hours—any more, and Berg will pull her out. The tunnel is short, and the cavern is big, but it never takes longer than two—unless something is wrong.

Mistress is chewing on her fingernail. It’s the only time she shows any sign of emotion, of worry—when we can’t communicate with the child in the tunnel. I understand her worry, but I have spent more than my fair share of hours in that tunnel. Even without being able to coach her along, I know what rocks Kaida is picking her way over.

I sit on the muddy ice, close my eyes, and imagine the wet darkness. The first twist to the tunnel is five body lengths in—and it goes to the right. I can imagine her whimper as she kicks it—they
always
forget that first turn. After that, the pace slows. It’s a bit warmer, away from the wind and the water. The roar dulls to a murmur. The rocks are sharp, but they are hardly a threat—her skintight suit is made of a hybrid material, bought in the City, and even steel won’t cut it. Sharp rocks are uncomfortable, but nothing more.

More than rocks linger in the darkness. When will she hear the first hiss, the first rustle of reptilian skin crawling in the darkness? The cavern and tunnel are always devoid of insects—the snakes and fire-lizards seek them out with ruthless efficiency.

This late in the season, some of the reptiles will be hibernating. But not all, not the hybrids. Those that aren’t will be drawn to the food source—the same thing that draws Kaida now.

Starrbriars--a soft plant that oozes sap and smells like fallen snow. They aren’t particularly attractive when flowering, but have wide shiny leafs that the hybrid reptiles love.

It’s a simple thing, to pluck the starrbriars. It takes seconds. But when you're so young and in a cavern of darkness, with fire-lizards and snakes darting around your ankles it’s terrifying. I shudder, and with a choking feeling of guilt, I pull my thoughts away from her. Away from my memories of that pitch black cave lit only by the eerie green darkvision goggles Mistress provides each time a child goes on this insane mission.

A spark of anger leaps, catching in my chest—
why
does she do this to us? Yes, she provides for us and protects us, but the cost is so high.

Now is not the time to dwell on my anger, so I focus across the gorge. It’s raining and I can’t see the lights. I know from past experience that if the weather were clear, Citizens would be lining the Shield. They always watch as we lower a child into the Falls. Some stay until the end—most wander off, attention evaporating in the tedium of waiting. I hate them. How dare they find our personal tragedy an afternoon’s entertainment?

I glance at Berg as the cold shivers down my spine. The darklight that marks morning in our life obscures his features, but I know his eyes are tight with worry. He will not speak against the Mistress, but I know he hates this as much as I do. After all, he rescued Kaida.

A ban-wolf screams in the distance, and I jump, causing Gwen to mutter and elbow me. Berg’s hands are tight on the control panel. My eyes skip away from him guiltily, remembering how I thought of the white ban-wolf in the afterglow of our sex last night.

For a heartbeat, I wonder if he’s out there now, the mysterious ban-wolf, watching us from behind the sheet of rain.

Mistress nods at Berg and he taps a rapid series of commands into the tablet, and before us, the fire leaps to life. I hadn’t even noticed the fire-lizards that had breeched the cliff top. It makes me feel better—Kaida’s moving down there, agitating them. There’s a pain-filled shriek, and I wince. The lizards caught in the fire sound painfully human—a trait all genetic hybrids seem to share. My eyes water as the acid they spit catches fire, and Gwen reaches into her bag, handing me a gauze veil. It doesn’t stop all of the acidic smoke, but it blocks it enough that it will not cause lasting damage—only a pulsing headache.

What time is it? My feet ache from the cold seeping into them. “How long has it been?” I ask.

Berg shrugs, “Almost an hour.”

Sometimes, they were done by now. It meant it was a poor harvest—Mistress would sulk and rage in her quiet way. But at least the children were safer that way. I press a finger to the earpiece; disappointment floods me when I realize it’s still dead—only static fills my ear.

A ban-wolf screams, aching and musical, closer than it was before. Berg shifts, agitated and glances at Mistress. “We need to cull the pack,” he snaps

For reasons that are not clear to me, I want to argue. I want to run out, find the white ban-wolf and warn him. My fury floods back, and for a heartbeat, I forget everything: Kaida in her cave, my love for Berg, my loyalty to the Mistress. I want to do nothing more than lash out.