Glass Sword (24 page)

Every body is a message to you

Surrender to me, and it will stop.

“We fly for Pitarus in a few hours.” Ada already knows our recruitment plans for the day, but telling her again gives me something to do. “Cal’s piloting, so give Shade a list of whatever supplies we might need.”

“Be mindful,” she replies. “The king is in Delphie again, only an hour’s flight away.”

The thought prickles my scars.
One hour separating me from Maven’s torturous manipulations. From his terror machine that turned my own power against me.

“Delphie? Again?”

Cal walks to us from the mouth of the Notch house, his hair mussed
by sleep. But his eyes have never looked so awake. “Why again?”

“I saw a bulletin in Corvium that stated he was visiting with Governor Lerolan,” Ada says, confused by Cal’s sudden focus. “To share his condolences in person.”

“For Belicos and his sons.” I met Belicos only once, minutes before his death, but he was kind. He did not deserve the ending I helped give him. Neither did his kin.

But Cal narrows his eyes against the rising sun. He sees something we don’t, something even Ada’s lists and facts cannot understand. “Maven wouldn’t waste time on such a thing, even to keep up appearances. The Lerolans are nothing to him, and he’s already killed the newbloods of Delphie—he wouldn’t go back without a good reason.”

“And that is?” I ask.

His mouth opens, as if he expects the right answer to fall out. Nothing happens, and finally he shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”

Because this is not a military maneuver. This is something else, something Cal doesn’t understand. He has a talent for war, not intrigue. That is Maven and his mother’s domain, and we’re hopelessly outgunned on their playing field. The best we can do is challenge them on our own terms, with might, not minds.
But we need more might. And fast.

“Pitarus,” I say aloud, sounding final. “And tell Nanny she’s coming.”

The old woman has been requesting to help since she came here, and Cal thinks she’s ready to do it. Harrick, on the other hand, has not joined us on another recruitment. Not since Templyn. I don’t blame him.

I don’t need Cal to point out where the Rift region starts. As we pass from the King State, entering into the Prince State, the divide is
shockingly clear from our high altitude. The airjet soars over a series of rift valleys, each one bordered by a marching line of mountains. They look almost man-made, forming long gashes like the scrape of fingernails across earth. But these are too big, even for Silvers. This land was made by something more powerful and destructive, thousands of years ago. Autumn bleeds over the land, painting the forest below in varying shades of fire. We’re much farther south than the Notch, but I see pockets of snow on the peaks, hiding from the rising sun. Like Greatwoods, the Rift is another wilderness, though its wealth lies in steel and iron, not lumber. Its capital, Pitarus, is the only city in the region, and an industrial nerve center. It sits on a river fork, connecting the steel refineries to the war front, as well as the southern coal towns to the rest of the kingdom. Though the Rift is officially governed by the windweavers of House Laris, it is the ancestral home of House Samos. As the owners of the iron mines and steel factories, they truly control Pitarus and the Rift. If we’re lucky, Evangeline might be skulking around, and I’ll get to repay her for all her evils.

The nearest rift valley to Pitarus is more than fifteen miles away, but offers good cover to land. This is the bumpiest of all the ruined runways, and I wonder if we’ve overstepped. But Cal keeps the Blackrun in hand, getting us down safely, if shaken.

Nanny claps her hands, delighted by the flight, her wrinkled face lit by a wide smile. “Is it always this much fun?” she asks, peering at us.

Across from her, Shade pulls a grimace. He still hasn’t gotten used to flying, and does his best not to lose his breakfast in her lap.

“We’re looking for four newbloods.” My voice echoes down the craft, silencing the snapping of buckles and restraints. Shade’s feeling better, so he’s here again, sitting next to Farley. Then there’s Nanny and the newblood Gareth Baument. This will be his third recruitment
in four days, since Cal decided the former horse master would be a welcome addition to our daily missions. Once he worked for Lady Ara Iral herself, maintaining her vast stable of horses at the family estate on the Capital River. At court, everyone called her the Panther for her gleaming black hair and catlike agility. Gareth is less complimentary. He’s more likely to call her the Silk Bitch. Luckily, his work for House Iral kept him fit and limber, and his abilities are nothing to scoff at either. When I first questioned him, asking if he could do anything special, I ended up on the ceiling. Gareth manipulated the forces of
gravity
holding me to the earth. If we had been standing in the open, I probably would have ended up in the clouds. But I leave that to Gareth. Besides jettisoning people into the air, he can use his ability to
fly.

“Gareth will drop Nanny into the city, and she’ll enter the Security Center disguised as Lord General Laris.” I glance to her, only to find myself staring at a slight older man rather than the woman I’ve come to know. He nods back at me and flexes his fingers, as if he’s never used them before. But I know better. It’s Nanny beneath that skin, pretending to be the Silver commander of the Air Fleet. “She’ll get us a printout of the four newbloods living in Pitarus and the rest in the Rift region. We’ll follow on foot, and Shade will pull us all out.”

As usual, Farley is the first out of her seat. “Good luck with that one, Nan,” she says, jabbing a finger at Gareth. “If you liked this, you’re going to love what he does.”

“I don’t like that smile, little miss,” Nanny says in Laris’s voice. Though I’ve seen her transform before, I’m still not used to the strange sight.

Gareth laughs next to Nanny, helping her from her seat. “Farley flew with me last. Made a real mess of my boots when we touched down.”

“I did no such thing,” Farley replies, but she stalks down the length of the jet quickly. Probably to hide her flushing face. Shade follows her as he always does, trying to smother his laughter with his hand. She’s been ill lately and has done her best to hide it, to everyone’s amusement.

Cal and I are the last left on the plane, though I have no cause to wait for him. He goes through the usual motions, twisting knobs and flipping switches that turn off different parts of the jet in rapid succession. I feel each one sink into electrical death, until the low hum of full batteries is all that remains. The silence pounds in time with my beating heart, and suddenly I can’t get off the jet fast enough. Something frightens me about being alone with Cal, at least in daylight. But when night falls, there’s no one I’d rather see.

“You should talk to Kilorn.”

His voice stops me midstep, frozen halfway down the back ramp.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

Heat rises with every moment, as he gets closer and closer to me. “Funny, you’re usually such a good liar.”

I spin to find myself staring at his chest. The flight suit, pristine when he put it on more than a month ago, now shows distinct signs of wear. Even though he does his best to steer clear of our battles, battle has touched him still.

“I know Kilorn better than you, and nothing I say will snap him out of his little tantrum.”

“Do you know he asks to come with us?” His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded. He looks like he does in the moments before he falls asleep. “He asks me every night.”

My time at the Notch has made me blunt and easy to read. I don’t doubt Cal sees the confusion I feel, or the low currents of jealousy.
“He speaks to
you
? He won’t talk to me
because
of you, so why on earth would he—”

Suddenly his fingers are under my chin, tilting my head so I can’t look away. “It’s not me he’s mad at. He’s not angry because we . . .” And then it’s his turn to trail off. “He respects you enough to make your own choices.”

“He told me as much.”

“But you don’t believe him.” My silence is answer enough. “I know why you think you can’t trust anyone—by my colors, I know. But you can’t go through this alone. And don’t say you have me, because we both know you don’t believe that either.” The pain in his voice nearly flattens me. His fingers shake, shivering against me.

Slowly, I pull my face out of his grasp. “I wasn’t going to.” A half lie. I feel no claim over Cal, and won’t let myself trust him, but I can’t distance myself from him either. Every time I try, I find myself wandering back.

“He isn’t a child, Mare. You don’t have to protect him anymore.”

To think, all this time, Kilorn has been angry because I want to keep him alive. I almost laugh at the idea.
How dare I do such a thing? How dare I want to keep him safe?
“Then bring him along next time. Let him stumble into a grave.” I know he hears the tremor in my voice, but politely pretends to ignore it. “And since when do you care about him?”

I barely hear his answer as I walk away. “I’m not saying this for his sake.”

Down on the runway, the others are waiting. Farley busies herself strapping Nanny to Gareth’s chest, using a jerry-rigged harness from one of the jet seats, but Shade is staring at his feet. He heard every word, judging by the stern set of his features. He glares at me as we pass, but
says nothing. I’ll be in for another scolding later, but for now, our focus turns toward Pitarus and hopefully another successful recruitment.

“Arms in, head down,” Gareth says, instructing Nanny. Before our eyes, she morphs from the bulky Lord General into her much smaller, thinner self. She tightens the straps accordingly.

“Lighter this way,” she explains with a tiny giggle. After long days of serious talk and restless nights, the sight makes me laugh outright. I can’t help it, and have to cover my mouth with my hand.

Gareth awkwardly pats the top of her head. “You never cease to amaze, Nan. Feel free to shut your eyes.”

She shakes her head. “Had shut eyes my whole life,” she says. “Never again.”

When I was a child, dreaming of flying like a bird, I never imagined anything like this. Gareth’s legs don’t bend, his muscles don’t tense. He doesn’t push off the ground. Instead, his palms flatten, parallel to the runway, and he simply starts to
lift.
I know the gravity around him is loosening, a thread being untied. He rises with Nanny strapped close, faster and faster, until he’s merely a speck in the sky. And then the thread tightens, pulling the little dot along the earth, up and down in smooth, rolling arcs. Loose, then tight, until they disappear over the nearest ridge. From down here, it almost looks peaceful, but I doubt I’ll ever find out firsthand. The jet is flight enough for me.

Farley is the first to look away from the horizon and return to the task at hand. She gestures to the rising hill above us, crested with red-and-gold trees. “Shall we?”

I march ahead in reply, setting a good pace to get us up and over the ridge. According to our now vast collection of maps, the mining village of Rosen should be on the other side. Or at least, what once was Rosen. A coal fire destroyed the place years ago, forcing Reds
and Silvers alike to abandon the valuable, if volatile, mines. According to Ada’s readings, it was abandoned overnight, and most likely has a wealth of supplies for us. For now, I intend to pass through, if only to see what we can raid on the way back.

The ashen smell hits me first. It clings to the west side of the slope, strengthening with every step we take down the ridge. Farley, Shade, and I are quick to cover our noses with our scarves, but Cal isn’t bothered by the heavy perfume of smoke.
Well, he wouldn’t be.
Instead, he sniffs at it, tentative.

“Still burning,” he whispers, eyeing the trees. Unlike the other side of the ridge, the oaks and elms here look dead. Their leaves are few, their trunks gray, and not even weeds grow between their gnarled roots. “Somewhere deep.”

If Cal wasn’t with us, I would be afraid of the lingering coal fire. But even the red heat of the mines is no match for him. The prince could wave off an explosion if he wanted, and so we continue on, pleasantly silent in the dying wood.

Mine shafts dot the hillside, each one hastily boarded up. One breathes smoke, a dull trail of gray clouds lifting into the hazy sky. Farley fights the urge to investigate, but is quick to climb low branches or rocks. She scouts the area with quiet intensity, always on guard. And always within a few feet of Shade, who never takes his eyes off her. I’m quietly reminded of Julian and Sara, two dancers moving to music no one else can hear.

Rosen is the grayest place I’ve ever seen. Ash coats the entire village like snow, floating on the air in flurries, hugging the buildings in waist-high drifts. It even blots out the sun, surrounding the village in a permanent cloud of haze. I’m reminded of the techie slums of Gray Town, but that foul place still pulsed like a sluggish, blackened heart.
This village is long dead, killed by an accident, a spark deep in the mines. Only the main street, a shoddy cross of a few brick storefronts and plank homes, is still standing. The rest has collapsed or burned. I wonder if there’s bone dust swirling in the ash we breathe.

“No electricity.” I can’t feel anything, not even a lightbulb. A cord of tension releases in my chest. Rosen is long gone, and offers us no harm. “Check the windows.”

They follow my example, wiping the glass storefronts with already dirty sleeves. I squint into the smallest of the still-standing buildings, barely a closet squashed between a smashed Security outpost and the half-collapsed schoolhouse. When my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize I’m looking at rows and rows of books. Cluttered onto shelves, thrown into haphazard piles, spilled across the grimy floor. I grin against the glass, dreaming of how many treasures I can bring back for Ada.

A smash splinters through my nerves. I whirl to the sound, only to see Farley standing by a storefront window. She holds a piece of wood, and there’s glass at her feet. “They were trapped,” she explains, gesturing into the shop.