Of Sea and Stone (Secrets of Itlantis) (15 page)

I felt vulnerable standing there in the doorway of my room, so I stepped into the hall. I leaned against the wall and waited for him to tell me what he wanted.

He was gazing at me as if trying to decipher something through my facial expression.

“Well?” I demanded. “What do you want? If you’re just going to stand there, then I’m going back to bed.”

“I know you want to escape.”

“What?” I said, halting with one hand on the door.

“I know you want to,” he repeated. “You study the maps. You ask questions about ships, about the surface. You want to go back.” He paused. “I believe you’ll do it. You’re clever and you always seem to get what you want. Well, when you go, I want to go with you.”

I stared at him. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t been expecting that. “I—”

“This isn’t the right time to talk about this. Later.”

“Later,” I agreed, my mind spinning.

THE FESTIVAL OF Lights had the entire city in a confusion of music, costume, and celebration. The house was in even more of an uproar than usual. Nobody was working, not even the Indentureds. Beds were unmade, floors unswept, food uncooked. Half the servants were missing, and Merelus and Lyssia were merrily complacent about the whole thing.

“It’s the Festival of Lights!” Lyssia responded when I asked why there would be no breakfast. “We’ll eat in the gardens this evening.”

I must have looked aghast, for she nudged me with a laugh. “You’ll survive,” she said. “Besides, a fast is traditional, to remember the fallen from the Cataclysm.”

Fast or no fast, nobody seemed to be doing any solemn remembering, just laughing and dancing and chasing each other, clutching sprigs of dried seaweed that earned the pursuer a kiss if they caught the pursued. I snuck alone into the empty kitchen to find some bread to quiet my rumbling stomach, since I wasn’t an Itlantean and therefore had no interest in observing a fast for the ancient dead. I’d also agreed to meet Nol there so we could talk more about our plan for escape.

He was waiting for me, arms folded, back planted against the wall. He speared me with a look, but didn’t say anything as I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.

“Apparently, everyone else is fasting until later,” I said, opening the coldbox to look for something edible.

“Remembrance,” Nol mused. “For people long dead, when they’ve dealt destruction and death to others so recently. How ironic.”

I paused in my search and turned to look at him.

“Do you ever think about them?” I spoke softly, because the words felt wrong to say aloud, like violating a sacred space.

Nol didn’t reply immediately. Pain flashed across his face, and he lowered his gaze as if ashamed to let me see his grief.

I left the coldbox and stood beside him, drawn to his grief instinctively, understanding it, wanting to absorb some of it into myself. Wanting to help.

“Every day,” he said finally. “I see their faces. I think about what I might have done differently. How I might have helped them get away or fight back. My mother, my father, my brothers. I don’t know where they are. I don’t even know if they’re alive.”

I was silent. I had no one to miss but Kit, and maybe Nealla and the Old One. I had no family.

In that moment, I envied him. At least he had something to want to return to. All I had was a ghost of a dream and a promise I’d made long ago, more to myself than my mother.

All I had was Perilous.

Nol’s jaw clenched as he spoke the next words. “I just stood there. I stood there and let them take me. It was like I couldn’t move. I was too afraid.”

I saw hatred in his eyes, hatred for himself. I put out my hand and touched his arm. “It isn’t your fault.”

He looked at my hand, and my stomach curled a little with embarrassment at my forwardness, but I didn’t remove it. After a pause, he covered it with his. His fingers were warm atop mine. We stood like that for the span of several minutes, saying nothing, feeling everything.

I exhaled, breaking the silence. Nol let go of me and shifted away, putting distance between us. “We need to talk plans.”

Plans, yes. I ignored the twist in my stomach at the thought.

“Escape from Celestrus seems impossible. Because of the wealth of this city, there are guards everywhere. The only ships that come and go are military vessels, or private lightships that belong to rich men.”

He nodded.

“At first, I thought Verdus would be the best choice,” I said, “As it is the closest to the surface.”

“You were planning to swim out?” he asked, incredulous.

“I’m a good swimmer, and I wouldn’t have gone without a breathing apparatus and supplies.”

Nol shook his head in amazement or amusement or both.

“But,” I continued, “I’ve been thinking further. While Verdus may be closest to the surface, it’s also the second smallest of the cities after Celestrus. The citizens are more likely to notice our presence, especially if we are doing anything suspicious like sneaking around a restricted area. Celestrus has the same problem, of course—not to mention the fact that the shipyard is on the other side of the city, well-organized and highly restricted.”

He nodded. “I already looked into it with Cal.”

“Arctus would be too cold. If we could get above at all, we would have to endure the weather. We’d die of hypothermia. Magmus and Volcanus are deep underwater and, from all accounts, run like a prison. That leaves...”

“Primus.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Primus is huge, bustling with visitors and traders coming and going. According to the pryor, the shipyard is massive and chaotic.”

“And Merelus is planning a trip there in only a few weeks.”

“It would be easiest to sneak aboard a ship there,” I said, “and then pilot it to the surface. With a ship, we’ll be able to travel much faster in much shorter time, thus needing fewer resources to take with us.”

“Do you have even the slightest idea how to pilot a ship?” he demanded.

I shrugged one shoulder. “I have been studying. It doesn’t seem too difficult.”

He shook his head as a smile quirked his lips. “And what if we’re caught? Won’t they give chase to recover a ship?”

“There will always be that chance. We have to try. If we get enough of a head start, we can abandon it at the surface. They won’t continue to chase us once we’ve gone that far.”

“All right,” he conceded. “We plan for Primus, but we need to know more about piloting one of these ships. What would we take?”

“That I still need to determine,” I said.

“What about the Dron?”

I paused. “What about them?”

“What if we encounter them?”

“Merelus said they haven’t attacked any ships in twenty years without provocation. We aren’t going to provoke them.”

We agreed to meet again in two days by my bedroom after dinner just as before, and then we parted ways.

Lyssia practically knocked me down with her eagerness when I found her afterward.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, not waiting for an answer before she launched into a detailed explanation of everything we would be doing and seeing that evening. “Here,” she said, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. “Put this on.” She shoved a pile of silk into my hands.

“What’s this?”

“Your celebration gown. Go on. I want to see what it looks like on you. I think the color will go wonderfully with your hair.”

It was seaweed green, with threads of gold running vertically down the bodice and skirt. I tugged the garment on, and it settled over my hips nicely, flaring out below in a way that made me look slender and tall. The top portion skimmed the edges of my shoulders.

Lyssia put both hands to her mouth. “You look like you belong in a kelp forest!”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Oh yes. You look magnificent. Exquisite, as my father would say. Like a mermaid.”

Mermaid? I vaguely recalled legends of the mythical people who lived beneath the water and breathed it like air. They were supposed to be beautiful—inhumanly so.

Apparently, I was not enthusiastic enough about my appearance for Lyssia’s taste. She spun me around to stare in the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” she commanded, waving a hand at my body with a flourish. “You will stun everyone!”

“Sounds dangerous,” I murmured, but in truth, I was secretly pleased with her praise. I’d never worn anything so beautiful in my life. The color paired perfectly with my hair and skin, and it made my eyes look large and dark. I slid my fingers over the bodice and reveled in the silky feel.

“What do you think of mine?” Lyssia held up another gown, this one lagoon-blue with filmy white petals of fabric that cascaded down the skirt like waves approaching a shore. “It even has a secret pocket for my lock picks.”

“Whatever do you need lock picks for at the Festival of Lights?”

“Always be prepared,” she said. She grinned and threw her dress on the bed. “I can tell you like yours best. Well, I’m glad. It wouldn’t look as good on me. You should keep it.”

I bit my lip as guilt panged me. She did not know that I was planning to leave in a few weeks. I’d have no need of this dress.

Quickly, I argued with the feeling. Her people had kidnapped me. I did not need to feel guilty for regaining my freedom.

Nevertheless, something lingered in my chest, heavy like sadness. Leaving this house would require its own kind of grieving, one that made little sense to me but that was undeniable. A captive caring for her captors. How foolish.

But there it was, undeniable.

Exasperated, I excused myself and returned to my room, where I reviewed the new escape plans in my head until Lyssia knocked to tell me we were leaving soon. I brushed my hair back from my face, shook wrinkles from the dress, and went to the door.

Lyssia, Dahn, and Nol waited on the other side. Dahn’s mouth fell open when he saw me.

So did Nol’s.

Why did warmth rush across my skin when I noted the latter fact?

~ ~ ~

A cacophony of music, laughter, and shouts assaulted my ears as soon as we stepped outside the house. A crowd of people dressed in glittering colors swept us forward and carried us along. They were heading toward the gardens, chanting poems that everyone seemed to know except for Nol and me.

Cal met us at the entrance to the Primus garden sphere. He wore a tunic of shimmering blue with white stripes that made him look taller. The colors matched Lyssia’s dress, and it appeared to be an intentional design on his part.

Lyssia beamed at him. It seemed her regard had changed from something to make Dahn jealous into something genuine. I glanced at Dahn, wondering if he noticed or cared, but his expression was unreadable. He was studying the crowds streaming into the gardens, his mouth pressed in a firm line that made him look grim, and older than the rest of us. He seemed to feel my gaze, for he turned and caught it with his own, and I was unable to turn away for one shivering moment.

What was his secret?

“Shall we?” Cal asked Lyssia, sweeping a hand toward the Primus garden sphere in a gesture that was oddly regal. I saw in my mind’s eye what he would be when he was older—a politician like his father, perhaps. A governor? He had seeds of strength in him.

We followed Cal into the garden sphere.

I hadn’t been in the Primus garden before, and the sight of it stole my breath away. The sphere was huge, larger than all the others, and the glass that arched over our heads shimmered with a faint rainbow hue. Blue lights set in the floor around the perimeter of the sphere mimicked the sunlight, and the effect was all shifting shadows and bands of brilliance. Pathways curled around the edge of the sphere, leading upward in a spiral. Most of the plants and flowers were blue, and they hung over pathways and sprawled across the ground. In the center of the sphere, hanging from the ceiling of glass, were planters spilling over with brilliant orange flowers with trailing petals.

“Those are supposed to be jellyfish,” Dahn whispered in my ear as I stared up at them.

The sphere buzzed with voices. Children, young people, and elders mingled and laughed and chattered in the center of the garden sphere and on the pathways leading up and down.

“Let’s get closer to the center,” Lyssia said. “After the Moment of Remembrance, they’ll serve food and drink to everyone.”

My stomach growled with hunger, but I didn’t argue. The crush of bodies all around us pushed back as we worked through the crowd. Once I stumbled, and a hand caught my elbow and pulled me upright again. When I looked, Nol released me instead of Dahn.

He leaned in close. “Careful,” he said softly. “Don’t get trampled. I need you if we’re going to escape.”

His breath sent a shiver over my skin. I looked into his face and I couldn’t tell if he was joking. He seemed serious. Dahn observed our interaction with detached interest, but we were too far away for him to have heard what Nol had said.

The crowds in the garden sphere continued to grow. The air grew hot, and the glass steamed. Lyssia reached out and gripped my hand.

“It’s almost time,” she whispered, her eyes shining.

“Time for what?”

“Just watch.” She put a finger to her lips.

A musical tone rang out loudly over the sound of the crowd, three short notes so pure and haunting that the hair on my arms rose. A hush swept across the room like wind across a sea. The air vibrated with expectancy. Then, all the lights in the sphere darkened, and blackness covered us all. Lyssia grabbed my other free hand. I expected gasps, or cheers, but everyone was utterly silent.

“A thousand years ago, the Cataclysm decimated everything on the surface,” a woman’s voice said. She spoke in a whisper, yet the sound carried over the entire crowd as if amplified by some magical means.

A single light ignited in the center of the crowd. A small, glowing orb, held in the hands of a woman in a white dress. The light in the orb flickered at first, and then grew stronger and stronger until it was shooting beams of radiant white light across the top of the crowd. The woman lifted her hands, raising the orb over her head. The orb began to float upward.