The Fifth City (12 page)

She emerged from the bathing room to see Medina draping a plain emerald tunic and black leggings on her bed.  Sylvia raised her eyebrows.  The fabric was decidedly lacking in substance.  No silver threads glinted at her in the dying firelight.

“No datawoven fabric for today,” Medina offered, confirming Sylvia’s suspicion.

Sylvia nodded mutely.  Breakfast had also appeared while Sylvia had been in the bath, but the thought of eating was far from her mind.  Her stomach would not allow it—it was nearly doing flips.

Once Sylvia was dressed, Medina arranged her hair, now blonde as ever, the dye completely gone.  Medina pulled the front back and pinned it up, but left the rest to sweep her shoulders.  Sylvia took a deep breath as a knock came at the door.  The time had gone too quickly.

With one last glance at her looking-glass, Sylvia left the suite.  She could only nod a wordless goodbye at Medina, who smiled encouragingly.

The woman had given her sturdy leather-soled shoes today, and Sylvia felt more like herself as she followed Oliver through the endless white stone corridors.  They climbed several sets of stairs, and Sylvia came to realize that she had been living much further underground than she had imagined.  Finally they emerged into
real
sunlight, and she closed her eyes in joy at the feeling of it on her face.

They stood on the steps of the castle, facing the city—which she had not even seen yet, having been brought in unconscious.  The city buildings were stone, but the streets and rooftops were covered in shining black, unlike any stone she had ever seen.  It was more like shimmering black glass.

She felt a presence behind her, and turned to see two men dressed in all black now following them down the stairs of the castle.  They were dressed just like that man, Barton, who had dragged her in front of Lady Naomi that first day. 
Must be the Lady’s guards
, Sylvia thought.

Oliver led her into the street.  He was more jolly than usual today, and Sylvia stole glances at the silver earlink tucked in his ear as they walked through the street.

There were a few people moving about, most heading in the direction that Oliver was leading her.  Sylvia watched them out of the corner of her eye.  Most wore fairly simple clothing, like what Medina had dressed her in today—and she spotted plenty of datawoven fabric—so the elegance of Lady Blackwater was probably limited to the castle.  That fact seemed to calm Sylvia somehow.  The people here weren’t really
that
different.

The city reminded her of Skycity, with its buildings close together, lined up along the streets.  But then they turned a corner and she saw something blocking the way: tall as a villa, covered in shining black with thick glass windows, and slowly filling with people.  It hummed as if it were alive.  Sylvia cautiously followed Oliver up a short flight of stairs to the platform beside the contraption.

“It’s called a train,” Oliver explained.  Sylvia stared.

He stepped into the train and beckoned for her to follow.  Sylvia frowned as she entered, and wedged herself into the small crowd of people inside.  She wondered what they were all doing there, crammed into the narrow structure.

Everyone seemed to be holding one of the horizontal rails that ran along the walls and ceiling of the train, so Sylvia grabbed one too.  Then, with no warning, and seemingly by magic, a door slid over the entrance she had just passed through.  Her nerves jumped, watching the door move by itself, but she kept her head.  Then, she felt a deep hum vibrate through the train, and they began to move forward.

She gripped the railing and her heart pounded as she watched the platform disappear and they began to move east along the streets.  She gulped down several lungfuls of air after she realized she had been holding her breath, and watched buildings go by in a blur.  She barely remembered what she was heading towards as she registered the speed at which they were moving.

Sylvia stifled a crazed laugh.  The train made her profession a joke!  This thing moved so quickly through the streets, and then emerged into the countryside—when it would take hours to travel so far by foot.

So many thoughts tumbled about her head. 
It was moving, really fast—how did it work?  Was something pulling it?

As they left the city, Sylvia could focus on the wider countryside now streaming by.  Farms, fields of crops, copses of trees, and small clusters of more villas off in the distance spread out on the brightening island.  She stood motionless inside the train as it sped through the countryside.

Eventually, Sylvia tore her eyes away from the window to study the inside of the train.  She noted that the two black-clad guards had followed them in, so they must be part of her escort to the ceremony.  Oliver casually gripped a handle and stared out at the field they were passing, then grinned at her when he noticed her gaze.

She could see earlinks glinting from people’s ears, and some were tracing commands on sleeves or even thighs clad in datawoven fabric.  The silver threads winked at their touch.

They continued on for perhaps half an hour until Sylvia felt as if the train were beginning to slow down.  From what she had seen through the windows, the journey would have taken her the better part of a day on foot.  No wonder Greyling had envied them so.

The train was definitely beginning to slow, she was sure of it, but she could not see what they were approaching.

Finally the train came to a crawl.  A long stone platform slowly came into view and they stopped altogether.

Her feet felt strange after the constant vibration from the train’s movement, and she felt almost dizzy now, standing still after moving so fast.  She watched as the door panel disappeared into the wall as it slid out of the way, and released them onto the platform.

She let others get off before her, and Oliver lightly gripped her elbow as the crowd moved forward.  Her feet were still humming.  She felt like she was moving too slow now as they walked down the long stone platform, buffeted against a metal railing.

The train had stopped in a wide green field, but Sylvia could tell the crowd was moving forward toward something else. 
The sunrise must be minutes away
, she thought, keeping her eyes on the horizon.

She and Oliver descended from the platform to walk down a narrow dirt path that led toward the sea.  People all around were talking excitedly, and a feeling of anticipation wound through the crowd; but in Sylvia it was something like dread.  The train had been one thing—now came the real Trial.

The land ended just ahead of them and dissolved into the sea, its salty wind blowing inland, tossing her hair about as they walked toward it.  The crowd had gathered where the field dissipated into white sand.

Two massive and ancient stones stood by the ocean, as if the great forces of the water had deposited them there long ago.  One rose up high, weathered and worn; and the other lay flat, wide as a stage.

Lady Blackwater stood alone behind the stage, staring off into the ocean, watching the waves go in and out.  It struck Sylvia as strange to see the Lady outside of her castle.  She wondered how the Lady had gotten here.  She couldn’t picture the Lady in that shimmering golden gown with her elaborately curled hair clutching a handrail on the train.

And then she saw the others.  A dozen or so boys and girls a little older than she had gathered to the right of the stage.  Some whispered to one another, others stared off into the distance, looking anxious, or in one girl’s case, looking ill.

Oliver walked with her until she reached the group, then he sidled into the front of the massive crowd of onlookers.  Sylvia averted her eyes from the crowd, not yet wanting to look out and take in the amount of spectators that would be watching her performance.  She could feel thousands of eyes looking at them, and hear hundreds of voices chattering.  All of Seascape waited for the Trial to begin.

Lady Blackwater seemed to be waiting for something, and Sylvia could feel the adrenaline pouring through her body in anticipation, waiting for what was coming next.

This was the beginning.  The next four weeks would determine the direction of the war—she was sure of it.

Movement caught her eye and she saw Lady Blackwater disappear behind the vertical stone, only to emerge on top of it a second later. 
It must have stairs carved into the back,
Sylvia thought.

Lady Naomi towered over the crowd.  Her golden gown fluttered in the sea breeze, and silence wove through those gathered.  Sylvia held her breath.

“Tradition,” the Lady began, her voice crisp and clear in the sea air.  “It is the thread that weaves its way through Seascape’s past, present and future.  It is our birthright; it is our heritage.”  She paused, and the wind whipped over the waves behind them.

“Upon the rising of the sun this Winter’s End, the Trials will begin again; ensuring that our young are worthy, that they are fit to become the keepers of our traditions.”

Lady Naomi brought her gaze down.  “Initiates, please ascend the stage.”

They moved as one to the ancient stone slab, and found their footing on the few steps that led up to the platform.

Fifteen initiates fanned out to form a straight line, backs to the sea.  Sylvia managed to stay as far away from Lady Naomi as possible, and stood at the end of the line.  She studied the other initiates and noticed they were all dressed simply like she had been, and not a single earlink in the group.  Finally, she looked up.

Her stomach plummeted.  Her first thought was to wonder how those in back could possibly hear the Lady.  Sylvia looked back down and took several quick breaths.

Lady Naomi spoke again into the wind.

“When the sun rises in just a few minutes, your first Trial begins.  Please step forward now and state your name, marking your willingness to participate.”

Sylvia peered down at the other end where a tall girl stepped forward, her pale hair whirling in the wind.  “Lena,” she said firmly, and stepped back.  Next, a girl called Talia; then a boy named Drew.  As each of the initiates stepped forward, there was cheering or whistling, each time from a different part of the massive crowd.

About midway through, a black-haired boy stepped forward and Sylvia’s mouth fell open—
here was the boy who had interrupted her tea with Lady Naomi!  Who was he?

“Atlan,” he said clearly, and stepped back at once.

Sylvia’s curiosity about Atlan would have to wait, because the next initiate was stepping forward, and they continued on down the line.  All the while a strange swelling was taking place inside Sylvia.  She would have to step forward soon, and the beginning of the Trial was only moments away.

“Mela,” cried the girl next to her, and Sylvia’s heart thudded against her ribs.

She focused on the ancient stone at her feet and stepped forward, daring to look up at the gathered crowd.  A huge breath, then, “Sylvia,” she shouted into the sea breeze.

There were murmurs through the crowd as she stepped backward, careful to keep her balance.

Lady Blackwater spoke again, quelling the whispers.  “I have made a bargain with this youngling from Meadowcity,” she said, and Sylvia felt her face flame as all eyes in the crowd pinned her.  The faces nearest showed no sign of surprise, however.  “If she passes the Trials and proves her worth, Seascape will offer aid in her country’s war.”

Some of the heads in the crowd nodded, and others whispered to each other again.  Sylvia felt like she might throw up, even though she hadn’t eaten any breakfast.  She could feel the other initiates watching her down the line, until Lady Blackwater finally spoke again, this time low and serious, a speech that seemed well-rehearsed.

“As the sun rises on this day, our earth is renewed.  We begin a new year, with new hopes, new dreams, and new lives.  With the end of winter comes spring, and with spring comes new life.

“This Trial will test your patience, your longevity, and your endurance; for you will need it in the time to come.  To pass this Trial, you must remain on the stone until the sun sets,” she concluded, and bowed her head slightly.

Sylvia cocked her head, thinking there
must
be more to it than that.

But then, the light of the rising sun tipped above the horizon, and Sylvia was struck with a pain that was beyond familiar to her.  Her knees buckled and they hit the stone, sending more pain reverberating up through her bones.

Sunrise until sunset?  How would she possibly remain conscious?

But as she knelt, she realized that the pain wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been weeks ago on the shore, that day they arrived at Seascape.  She could still move; and the current was painful, but not debilitating.

She took a deep breath and lifted one knee up, bracing herself, as the beginnings of a headache lit up her skull.

She could last.  She would last.

The crowd stood rapt in attention as they whispered to each other and pointed at different initiates.  Sylvia’s head began to ache outright as the jolting pain settled into her very bones.  She tried to focus on her breathing, and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the other initiates.

She spotted Atlan halfway down the line, crouched up on one knee, one hand to his head.  Her eyes slid past him to Lady Blackwater atop her pulpit.  The Lady surveyed each of the initiates, until her eyes finally met Sylvia’s.