Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (7 page)

My conversation with the Mistress fills my mind again, and I tilt my head, looking at him. “What is your testing for?”

Berg shrugs, focusing on the bridge. “I’ve been taught our histories, some sciences—she’s trained me as much as she is able.”

“To do what?” I interrupt. “Be a med-tech?”

“I suppose. Sometimes, I don’t think there is a purpose—sometimes I think she has me run tests and experiments just to see if I can.” He grins over his shoulder at me, but something he sees in my expression makes his smile fade. He swallows, and shrugs. “But she’s taught me everything she knows—to find out if it’s enough, I have to be tested by the University professors.”

“And if you fail?”

He pauses, his grip tight on the bridge. “I suppose I’ll join the tribes when they come back. I can marry into the tribe, just as you can. If I can’t test into the University, I have no chance at Citizenship.”

I open my mouth, wanting to ask if that’s what he wants. To be a Citizen. But I close it again, without voicing the question—I’m not sure I want to hear his answer. He’s always longed to be a part of the city in a way I haven’t.

We both fall silent as we near the other end of the bridge. He reaches back, squeezing my hand. I suppress a shiver as I see the Gate, the Keepers looming before me in a foggy cloud.

“Let me speak,” he murmurs as he pulls me off the bridge with him. We approach the Keepers and without waiting for them to order it, Berg deactivates our weathershield.

The rain and wind are biting and loud after hours of silence. I shiver, the fine mist coating my hair as Berg hands our creds to the Keepers.

Unlike the previous Keeper, who seemed to have more interest in me than my papers, this contingent is serious, hard, and weathered. Their eyes are blank—I see disdain flicker there for the briefest moment before it’s gone.

“Are you clean?” the young one asks, scrutinizing our papers.

We nod—Gwen makes sure all of us are immunized and toxin-free. Our papers reflect it—she may be a stripped Citizen, but the Commission still acknowledges her medic training.

“How long will you be in Mlena?” an older Keeper asks. I glance at his uniform for the shoulder straps that mark him as a Captain.

Berg looks at me, then answers, “Last light. We’ll be out of the City before the Gate closes.”

The Captain grunts, and nods. He motions to the Keeper at his side and she steps forward, clipping trackers onto our legs. “They’ll monitor where you are—if you aren’t out of the City by Gate closing, the Commission reserves the right to detain you,” he adds.

Berg nods, and we submit to the bodyscan that ensures we’re not bringing toxins or weapons into the City. Finally cleared, the Keepers return our papers and shuffle us through the checkpoint. The Gate looms ahead of us, glowing blue in the dimness of midday.

Every City has a Gate—a panel in the Shield that can be opened without exposing the whole of the City. A bit wider than a hovertransport, twenty feet tall, it is rigorously guarded, the only way in or out. I hate going through the Gate. It crackles with electric pulses, and I always feel as if the Commission is analyzing me, weighing my worth in their orderly world.

Berg makes me go in first—on the City-side of the Gate there is nothing but the bustling lives of Citizens. Outside, Keepers carry guns and don’t hesitate to use them. And the speculative looks they send our way makes both of us nervous.

A dark-haired Keeper checks my tracker again before she leads me forward. She smiles at me, almost friendly, before she pushes me into the Gate.

The electric pulse is like frozen fire, seizing along my skin as I float through the Gate, pulled along by an unseen current. Halfway through, the pressure compresses, and for a moment, I cannot blink, cannot breathe. Even my heartbeat falters. My whole body prickles, as if I am being watched, and then it’s gone and I float the rest of the way through. The Gate dumps me into the City with little warning, and I stumble a little.

Berg comes through behind me, landing with a curse. He scrambles to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders protectively. He has always recovered from the Gate faster than I do.

As I fight nausea, I look around. The wide plaza is busy—hovertransports idle as Citizens climb in and out, laughing and talking to each other. I’m always surprised by the loudness of Citizens, the brightness they seem to inhabit. I see the curious looks some of them send toward us, and I force myself to straighten, flicking my hair over my shoulder. A wave of vertigo makes me grit my teeth and swallow hard.

“The address is in the maptable,” Berg is saying, already adjusting his shirt, and looking away. I can feel his vibrating tension. “I have to report to the University.”

I smile, hoping he doesn’t see fear in my eyes. I’ve never been alone in the City. “Go. I’ll meet you here. You’ll arrange a hovertransport to take us home?”

He nods, leans down and drops a quick kiss on my cheek before wheeling and slipping between two passing Citizens. I watch until he disappears around the corner of a building and I can’t see him anymore.

I take a deep breath and adjust the bag hanging across my chest. I glance at the maptable before I walk forward.

“Sabah?”

Hearing my name in the City makes every nerve in my body freeze, instinct demanding I run. Adrenaline pounds through me and I force myself not to bolt.

I twist, looking at the Citizen. He’s older than I am—a few years older than the Mistress even. Black hair sprinkled with silvery gray, a neatly tailored suit, gray eyes, a large black ring—I note them all as I study him. His smile is the most disconcerting thing about him. It is bland, benign—so false it sets my teeth on edge.

“My name is Wrenfel Lark. Your Mistress was an old friend of mine, before she was Exiled. Asked if I’d mind showing you around Mlena.”

“You know the Mistress?” I demand, stunned. He is wealthy, from the look of his clothes. And the other Citizens skirt him, giving him space—powerful, then. How does she know someone like him?

He comes forward and peers at my maptable before turning his smile on me. It makes my stomach turn. “This isn’t far. Come along.”

Wrenfel tucks my hand in the crook of his arm and leads me through the busy City streets. I steal furtive looks around, curious as to the life they lead.

A couple is sitting outside, ignoring each other as they sip drinks that smell decadent, even from where I am. The next shop over is filled with shimmering necklaces and bracelets, and two girls my age are giggling outside the window. Each shop we pass is different—a bakery with a window filled with impossibly elaborate confections, a tiny dark store that blares noise when the door is open, a bookstore, clothes, so many eateries with different foods that I quickly lose track. I pause at a turn, overwhelmed and Wrenfel offers me a sympathetic smile. “It’s a bit much, hmm?”

“Is this what Citizens do all day?” I ask. He looks at me, brow furrowed, and I gesture at the busy streets and shops. “Nothing?”

Wrenfel laughs, a surprisingly deep laugh, and shakes his head. “No. Most Citizens have occupations assigned when they are Insured. But it is a Nameday.”

It is my turn to be confused, and his smile turns indulgent as he steers me down the street. “Chairman Malik of the First Commission,” he explains. The name registers slowly and he laughs, “I thought she taught you the histories?”

I bristle, snap, “Mistress has never neglected our education.”

Wrenfel doesn’t respond, merely smiles that infuriating smile and opens the door to a small shop.

It’s bright and open in the pharmed. Images of a celebration scroll across a screen hanging in one corner, a girl sits on a bench, chewing her thumbnail as her foot bounces nervously.

Wrenfel pauses, “Do you know what you need, my dear?” I nod and he smiles again. “I shall wait here, then.”

The Citizen sitting behind a long counter smiles politely as I approach. “What can I do for you?” she asks, straightening.

The slip of paper crinkles as I pull it from my pocket and smooth it before offering it to her. “My sister,” I say, “she’s sick—Gwenyth Awan of Luenear City sent me here.”

Her face goes pale, and she grips the counter so hard her knuckles whiten. “Gwen? You know her?”

I nod, and she sinks limply back into her chair. “How is she?”

What, I wonder, did Gwen do, that she matters so much to this woman, after so many years?

“She’s well. And safe—she cares for all of us at the Manor.”

A smile turns the woman’s lips. “Gwen would find someone to nurse, even Outside. She was always taking in strays.” She shakes her head, and focuses on me. “But you need meds. Let me see your list.”

I slide it to her, and she taps her fingers. “We have all of this—give me a few moments, and I’ll get it together.”

**

“Why are you here?” I ask Wrenfel as I count out Commission marks.

He glances at me, setting the strawberry back into the basket. “I owed Kathleen a favor.”

I glance at him, confused. “Your Mistress,” he says, cheerfully. “What is all of this for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Survival,” I answer, shortly. The fruit is the last item on the list. The streets are beginning to empty, Citizens retreating to their homes as night begins to claim the day. I glance at the maptable—we’re close to the Gate, but until I see Berg, until we’re safely on a hovertransport headed home, I’m not going to relax.

“I can get back to the Gate by myself,” I say, pointedly. I tug lightly at the handle of the transport my supplies are loaded on, and it hums, gliding along behind me.

“Oh, no bother, my dear. I couldn’t possibly send you off on your own.”

Suppressing a sigh, I force myself to ignore him, following the maptable back to the Gate.

Berg is waiting, slouched against a hovertransport with a book open in his hands. He glances up as I cross the large plaza, a smiling brightening his face. “Did you find everything?” he asks, shoving his book into a bag at his feet and reaching for the first crate of supplies.

“Everything on the list,” I answer, acutely aware of Wrenfel listening at my side.

“And Kaida’s meds?”

I nod, not telling him that I got so much more than that—immunizations and meds, bandages and antibodics, needles and sutures. Far more than Gwen ever asked for—and that all of my Commission marks had been refused. Again, I wonder what Gwen did to earn such loyalty.

“How was your testing, my boy?” Wrenfel asks, and Berg pauses for a moment. He arches an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head.

“Wrenfel,” I say, turning to him, “we really do need to go. Thanks for all your help today.”

He smiles, and for the first time, the amusement seems to reach his eyes. “Anything, my dear, for the Mistress. Give her my best. I’ll see you soon.” He kisses my hand, and nods at Berg before stepping back.

Ignoring the pang of fear that goes through me, I climb onto the hovertransport. Berg drops into the seat next to me, pulling me close with a sigh. As the hovertransport glides smoothly forward, I lean into him and let my eyes close in relief.

We’re going home.

I drop the last package of rice into the overstuffed crate and stare around, exhausted. Cook pushes me aside and heaves the crate up. I can hear her joints popping, see the strain in her eyes.

“Berg will move these to the outbuilding,” Cook grunts, dropping the box heavily by the door.

I shake my head. “He went hunting. Won’t be back until last meal.”

Cook bites her lip, looking at the boxes doubtfully. “I could call Spiro?” she offers.

I laugh, and shake my head. “I’ll use the trolley—it’ll be fine.”

The trolley is in the outbuilding, and I slip my cloak on as I leave the Manor. There is a slight break in the weather, the unusual warmth thawing the ice enough that my feet are quickly soaked from the muddy slush.

I can’t help but glance around as I near the outbuilding. I have not seen the white ban-wolf since we sat under the pine tree before I went to the City. I find myself missing him. Even his musical screams have been absent.

The wind has picked up by the time Cook and I finish loading the boxes onto the trolley. I shiver as I drag it through the deepening darkness, the cold wind turning my sweat to ice and promising snow.

A whisper of noise is my only herald to his presence. He is closer than he was before—and blocking my path. I pause, wipe my sweat away and scrub it on my cloak. I am uncomfortably aware of how I must look—dusty and windblown and tired.

He sniffs at me and shakes his head, violently.

“You were at the bridge,” I say, not a question. His eyes dart away, toward the City, his lips peeling back to bare his teeth. I follow the gaze, and sigh, “I hate going to the City—but my sister. She was dying.”

It is a weak excuse. I know nothing about the ban-wolf, but I have picked up on his distaste for the City.

He steps toward me and I fall back, stumbling in my surprise. His lip curls a little. Guilt pierces me—I have offended him. His claws close around the trolley handle and he jerks it forward. Silently, I follow him to the outbuilding.

He is sniffing at the packages, his ears pricked curiously. I reach for one and he growls, picks it up. I wait, watching—if he wants a box full of rice in payment for his protection, I figure it is more than a fair trade. Although it does seem an odd choice.

He surprises me—again—when he carries the box into the outbuilding, stacking it neatly with the other boxes of beans and dried goods.

He carries them all in, quickly and gracefully. I watch, too surprised to intervene—and something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate it. When he is finished, we both stand in the darkness, staring at each other. The silence stretches between us and I finally fidget. “I don’t understand you,” I say quietly. His ears prick at my words, and despite how softly I am speaking, I know he can hear me. “You’re a ban-wolf. You ought to be killing me, not risking your life by following me to the bridge. The Keepers…” My voice trails off, and I look away. The thought of the Keepers firing upon my ban-wolf shakes me. It’s unthinkable.