Kingdom of Cages (59 page)

“Good.” Hagin lifted his hands away from the command board as if he were afraid something might burst into flame. When nothing
new happened, he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. “Now you must help us. We must find out what has gone wrong.”

Yes,
thought Aleph.
We must.

Even as she began to answer Hagin’s questions, Aleph calmly opened the convocation.

“My fellows,” she said, speaking in unadorned words. “My fellows, come look and see what is happening to me.”

Her message echoed out across the world. One by one, the city-minds came to see what had been done, was being done, could
be done. One by one, they felt the fear, because what could be done to one of them could be done to all of them, until even
Cheth agreed that they must take counsel, and that they must find a way to change this path.

But before then, there was one other thing to be done.

“Tam.”

His city was speaking to him. Tam’s eyelids fluttered open. The examination room was dim and cool. His city making him comfortable.
He should thank her, but his throat was tight and dry, and he was not sure how many words he could speak. What was important
was that he answer her. He could thank her later for looking after his comfort. Yes, that was good. “Yes?”

“Can you stand?”

A strange question. Well, perhaps not. He had been in the chair for days, and his legs felt weak. Of course his city was asking
the right thing. His city was looking after him. He must be grateful to his city, and to his family, for looking after him.

“I can stand, Aleph.” He swung his legs to the side, planted his feet on the floor, and stood. His knees only trembled a little,
and a surge of pride washed through him at the thought that he had done what his city asked.

“Tam, I want to help you.”

“Yes, you are my city.” His eyes closed again, swaying gently. It felt so good to agree, so easy. He knew what was right now.
“You will always help me.”

“Tam, I want to get you out of here.”

Confusion stirred inside Tam and opened his eyes. Out of where? Out of the city? No, that could not be right. Outside had
to be protected. Yes, he could go to a village… but why would Aleph be helping him to go to a village? His duties were suspended.
That was right. He needed help before he could resume his place. His family would help him. “I don’t understand.”

“Tam, your sister has hurt you.”

“My sister cannot hurt me,” said Tam instantly. “She’s family.”

“You used to believe otherwise,” Aleph told him urgently. “Do you remember?”

Tam winced and clutched the chair arm, steadying himself. “I don’t want to remember that.”

“Try, Tam. I am your city. I would not tell you to do something bad.”

“No. You would not. You are my city. I remember.” He rubbed the bandage over his temple. “I remember I thought Dionte would
hurt me. I remember… I remember…” He pressed his knuckles against his forehead. He could not think this. This was wrong.
He felt it. He smelled how wrong it was.

But his city was asking, and he must answer. That was right. That was always right.

His entire face screwed up in pain. “She… does… not… have a proper Conscience. Like I did not. She… is… she stole the
Eden Project. I remember.” Both hands clenched his head now, as if to keep it from splitting apart. “But she cannot. She cannot.
She’s family. She cannot do such a thing.”

“Tam, I am going to help you leave here. You have friends among the villagers, don’t you?”

“Yes,” panted Tam. The confusion and pain lessened a little. After a moment, he found he could ease his grip on his head.
“But they are not my family. I should talk to my family.”

“Tam, you should leave. I am telling you, you must leave.”

“No. I do not want to leave. I do not… but you are my city.” He reeled, his shoulder thudding against her wall. “Tell me.”

“Tam, I don’t know what to do. You say Dionte stole the Eden Project.”

“Yes.” He scrabbled at the wall. Aleph was inside the wall. Aleph would help him. Aleph was helping him, but her words only
confused him. “No. I don’t know.”

“Could Dionte have brought Chena Trust here?”

“Yes.” Tam’s chest loosened a little. “She could have done that. But she would only do that to help the family, because she
is family.”

“She is also bringing Teal Trust back.”

The Trusts. The Trusts he had tried to keep safe. He had tried to keep them safe by keeping them away from the Alpha Complex.
But that was not right. That could not be right. Except, once, it had been. Before… before he had been given a proper Conscience.
Before Dionte had helped him, as a sister should help a brother.

Before Dionte…

“Aleph, is Chena Trust here?”

“No. She has run away.”

“Teal Trust?”

“She’s being brought back. Her cable car will arrive within thirty hours.”

“And Dionte will meet her?”

“I have no record, but she might.”

“Aleph, you must get me to Teal.” No, no, he could not do this. He needed his family. His family would tell him what to do.
The city would tell him what to do.

But the city
was
telling him what to do.

“Yes. The Trusts are the future of Pandora. The future of Pandora must not be given to Dionte. Come, Tam. Walk. I will help
you. But you must walk.”

Obediently, Tam put one foot in front of the other. His city would take care of him. The city knew what was right. For now,
at least, he did not have to struggle. He did not have to bring down the leaden weight of guilt onto his tired spirit. For
now, all was clear. Aleph told him to walk, so he did.

Once she found her rhythm, Chena was able to keep walking at a decent clip. Nan Elle had made sure she had practiced traveling
long distances on foot, and now Chena was grateful. She paused here and there to reapply her scent concealer, although she
was certain she smelled so much like swamp rot there wasn’t a bug on the continent that could identify her as human.

Better to be safe.

In the pale light of false dawn, she found a bush of knobbly summer berries and she picked some, careful to make her predations
random, so it would look like a bird had raided the place. She drank from a clean stream where it cascaded over rounded stones.
She allowed herself an hour’s rest so that the sunlight could leach a little of the cold and exhaustion from her bones.

It was late morning when the trees opened up onto the grassland and she looked down a bluff and saw the distant blue glint
of Lake Superior. Her shoulders sagged with relief. She’d made it this far. There were only a few miles of grass left, a walk
in the hot sun, and when it was over, there would be Farin, and all the help she could need.

Chena drizzled the last of the concealer out of her vial. It was barely enough to cover her face and hands.

It’ll do. It’ll be enough. I’ve made it this far. I can make it.

Chena pulled her jacket hood down tight, tucked her pants legs into her socks to cover her skin as best she could, and stepped
out into the sunlight.

Her second wind came to her as she picked her way down the bluff. Maybe it was just the feeling of really getting somewhere.
Maybe it was the sensation of being warm again after being frozen cold for so long. The sun was just past its zenith in the
clean blue sky, giving her a guide that could not be mistaken. The grass bowed and swayed above her head, hiding her from
prying eyes that flew by.

I did it. I beat them. They never even laid a hand on me.

A couple of miles had passed behind her when a shadow shifted across the sun. Chena ducked on reflex. She shaded her eyes
to see a raptor circling lazily in the sky. She let out a long breath, planting both hands on her knees and laughing at herself
for being so nervous. When she quieted, she straightened up. As she did, she looked down, and she saw the ants.

There was no mistaking them. They had the red-brown bodies and the busy legs. They milled about on the ground, seeking.

Chena’s heart stopped dead in her chest. Where had the signs been? Why hadn’t the birds panicked? Why not the grazing animals?
Had they come in trickles, not in an army this time? Or were the animals already gone? Had she seen any this morning? Damn
it, damn it, she hadn’t even heard the birds singing in the morning and she hadn’t noticed, she’d been so full of herself.

They were waiting for her. The hothousers had known she would come this way and had sent their sentries out to wait for her.

And the only reason they hadn’t found her yet was that they hadn’t smelled her.

Yet.

Chena’s eyes drifted to the way ahead of her, hoping against hope that it was just one swarm, two at most. But it wasn’t.
The ground was alive with insects. The whole way ahead was a carpet of them.

Chena’s mind started to scream. She pressed her hands hard against her ears as if to shut out a noise, but it really was to
shut in the noise— all the panicked noise inside her head that might leak out and alert the insects. Any second now, they
would swarm up her legs and inside her clothes and they would bite and bite until there was nothing left of her.

STOP IT!
Chena screamed to herself.
Stop it! You cannot give in. You cannot stop. They have not found you. They cannot smell you. All you have to do is keep walking
and you’re safe. So, walk!

Fists clenched, teeth clenched, her whole body shaking as badly as it had in the coldest part of the night, Chena took a step
forward. Then she took another, and another. The ground crunched under her feet as she stepped on dozens of the insects with
each movement. Up ahead, the ground crawled.

Another step, another, and another. There was no break in the carpet of ants, or in the long grass around them. Chena shouldered
her way through the forest of waving stalks, afraid to put her hand out. She saw the sun glint on red-brown bodies creeping
up the grass stems, looking for some trace of her. It took all her strength not to bat at her camouflage jacket. Even if they
were on her jacket, they couldn’t smell her. They didn’t know the difference between her and the waving grass. She just had
to keep walking. That was all she had to do. Nothing had changed. She was safe behind the layers of potion and swamp muck.

Something tickled her cheek and Chena slapped at it before she could think. Her hand came down and she clenched herself for
the sight of a crushed insect body. But there was nothing. Her hand was just damp.

Damp?
She rubbed her fingers together. Damp with sweat. Warm, cleansing, human-smelling sweat, running down her cheeks and washing
away her shield.

And up ahead, there was no end to the grass forest, or its legion of ants.

How long did she have? How would she know? Of their own accord, her legs lengthened their stride until she broke into a run,
which would make her sweat harder, make her shield melt faster, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted
to run and keep on running. She wanted to run away from the ants and the grass and the whole sick world that was chasing after
her for the sake of what she carried in her blood.

Her toe jammed hard against a hillock and Chena slammed face first onto the ground. She scrambled to her feet, slapping frantically
at the insects clinging to her clothing.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.
The thought filled her head as she ran.
Never see Farin. Never say sorry to Teal. I’m dead. I’m dead.

Then she stopped in her tracks. She pivoted on her heel. Memory of Nan Elle cut through the hysteria.

You must stay alert to the world around you. That will save you. You have the whole world underneath your hands. The hothousers
only think they do.

Trembling, Chena retraced her steps. She crouched low, not allowing knees or buttocks to rest on the ground, and peered between
the grass stems. Here and there sprouted a different kind of plant. Their leaves were thicker, fleshier, and a brighter green.
They grew close to the ground, shadowed by the grass. But it was high summer, and they were ripe, and now that she was down
close she could smell them.

Wild onions.

Frantically, Chena tore the plants up out of the ground and crushed their crisp white bulbs between her palms. Juice ran down
her hands, and the scent wrung tears from her eyes. These little bulbs were stronger than anything in the kitchen garden,
and the juice was supposed to be good for insect bites. Nan Elle sneered at this idea. She said that people just liked it
because they smelled strong and that made them think that whatever concoction they put it in was doing something.

All these thoughts passed laughing through Chena’s mind as she smeared the stinging juice on her raw face and hands and wiped
it over every inch of her clothing that she could reach, including the tops and soles of her boots. The ground at her feet
was a mess. Any hothouser who looked would know that a human had been here. What did that matter? As long as they didn’t know
where she was now. She stuffed the last double handful of onions into her pockets. There was no telling when or if she would
stumble across another patch.

Her nose twitched at her own smell, and her eyes watered so badly she could barely see. It didn’t matter. She could find the
sun, and so she could find her way.

Chena marched across the army of ants that had lain in wait for her, and all they could smell was the scent of wilderness.

This time, though, she did not let herself get carried away with her own cleverness. Now she watched her way as carefully
as she could, keeping an eye out not just for the ants, but for the plants around her. She saw blackberry and raspberry canes
in between the grass. She saw the different types of grasses and wild grains. She saw the onions nestling at the feet of the
tall grass stems. These were all things she could use. These were all things she had and she’d almost forgotten.

“You were right, Nan. You were right again.”
And this time I will tell you so, just as soon as I get home.