The Fifth City (16 page)

Twenty Four

After Atlan left, Sylvia remained at her table, trying to make the connection.  She was so excited that she could finally practice, that she sat there until she fell asleep in her chair.  After jolting awake in the hard chair, she dragged herself across the room and she hid away the datawoven sleeve and her earlink.  The looking-glass was pitch black.

The next morning, she leapt out of bed as soon as she woke, eager to try the earlink again.  She ignored her breakfast until late morning, when she ripped the sleeve off in frustration, and threw it on the floor. 
How would she ever get this to work?
   She had no idea what she was doing.

Oliver came to bring her midday meal, but made no mention of Atlan or the datawoven fabric; but he gave her a knowing smile when he arrived.  Sylvia was still worried he might get in trouble for helping her, so she kept quiet.  She knew the Lady had a knack for knowing things she shouldn’t.

She sipped the tea that came with her meal and resolved to practice all afternoon, whether she made any progress or not.  Meadowcity was counting on her to get Seascape’s help.  The Four Cities were counting on her to stop Greyling.  She
must
practice.  And it wasn’t like she had anything else to do.

So she sat cross-legged in front of the fire for hours, the black datawoven sleeve encasing her forearm, never showing any signs of life.  A few times, she thought she had done something to make the connection Atlan had told her about, but felt she was just imagining it.  She really needed his help.

She paused for a moment to wonder about Atlan; the boy who Lady Naomi never mentioned, and who allegedly didn’t even want him for a son anyway.

Sylvia remembered the odd way the Lady had treated him the day he burst in on their tea in the false garden, and the cold way she had spoken to him.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask Atlan any more about it—she couldn’t even imagine why he admitted to her that Lady Naomi didn’t want him for a son.  She wouldn’t rub any more salt in the wound.

With a glance at her looking-glass, she realized the sun was setting, and her hours of practicing had produced no results, only a sort of headache.  She groaned.  As if she hadn’t spent enough time here with her head aching.

She rubbed her temples and stood, stretching her muscles and reaching up to the ceiling.  She let out a long sigh and went over to the looking-glass to admire the waves, and wondered again how she had gotten to this place.

In only a few days, she would be
on
the Southern shore—not just watching it from her underground rooms—being put on trial for the second time.  She wondered again what this task could possibly entail, and how it would test their connectivity.  The first had been torture; who knew what this one would be.

After a moment she had to pull herself away from the looking-glass, reminding herself of her commitment to practicing.  She sat down once more, settling onto the rug in front of the fire, and tried to connect with the sleeve.  She ran her right hand over the black fabric and then gave her wrist a quick squeeze, telling herself it would work. 
This time, I’ll get it.

She closed her eyes and thought about the silver earlink tucked into her ear, and the presence of the datawoven fabric on her forearm.  Everything else about her world was black: only the silver earlink and the sleeve existed.

In her mind she pictured the sleeve emerging from the darkness as the silver threads began to glow faintly, contrasting against the cross-wise black threads.  The glow grew stronger and stronger, and she imagined them both swelling with light, part of the same light, the same connection.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt the world change.

A strange sensation had rippled through her mind, and her eyes immediately went to the sleeve.

It glowed for a second, and then went black.

She did it!

Her heart raced, and she got up from the floor, wanting to scream, to jump up and run around the room, but she managed to keep calm.  This was only the first step. 
Could she do it again?

With a grin spread across her face, she took several deep breaths as she studied the half-sleeve.  Her mind began to race with all of the things she could do with it once she could master the connection.  If the Four Cities had this technology, there would be no need for Riders—cities could communicate with each other with a thought.

Then she scoffed at her imaginings.  Certainly Lady Blackwater wasn’t going to give them
that
much help.  That much she could tell.  But she still needed to master it, or at least learn enough to use it in the Trial.

Still, she wondered why the Lady had even let Sylvia participate in the Trials—when the reason she was here, the war, was because of Greyling’s rejection in the first place.

She sat back down before the hearth, and readied to try again.  She could think about the Lady’s motives later.  The one thing Sylvia was sure about was that mastering this technology would eventually get help for the Four Cities.  Even if it wasn’t instant communication, it would be
something
.

With her eyes clamped shut, she thought of the blackness again, and the two silver beams glowing as one.  They grew and grew, and she waited for the feeling again, letting the connection build.

In an instant, she jumped at the sound of her door opening and closing, and she leapt to her feet, all concentration lost.  She yelped as she caught sight of Atlan, standing in her room, grinning mischievously at her.

“What are you doing?” she nearly shouted.

“I thought I heard someone coming down the hallway,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

She scowled at him.

“Practicing?” he nodded at the sleeve on her forearm.

“Yes!  And I got it!” she exclaimed, eyes wide, entirely forgetting about his rude entrance.

“Really.”

She blushed, still wondering if she would even be able to pull it off again.  “You don’t believe me?”

He crossed his arms, waiting, a sly smile on his face.  It reminded her a bit like Lady Naomi’s cat-like grin.

He followed her to the table and they sat.  Sylvia raised her eyebrows at him in challenge before closing her eyes.  She could do this.  She took a deep breath and…

…Everything was black, but she pictured the earlink glowing silver, a beacon that reached out to the datawoven strands.  The strands began to acknowledge the beacon, and respond with a light of their own, a soft, silver glow.  Two beacons lit from the same light, growing brighter and brighter until—

A low whistle came from Atlan, as she felt something in her head shift, as if everything moved sideways for a moment.  This was
it
.

She held onto the glow, focusing on the shift in her head, keeping it there.  It held.  She dared open her eyes by a sliver, reminding herself to focus on the shift; knowing deep down it was the connection.

But the glow was fading. 
She was losing it
!

The connection broke, and she knew it instantly as her mind seemingly snapped back into place.

“Ahh, you had it there,” Atlan said.

Sylvia grimaced.  But she was getting better.  “It stopped glowing and then it broke,” she whined.

“It only glows for a moment to let you know the connection is made.  You just have to focus on keeping it going.  Once you get used to it, the connection is the easy part, you won’t even think about it, and it’ll be on all the time.  Then you can input commands whenever you like.”

“You try,” Sylvia suggested, eager to watch a native demonstrate the technique.  She wondered if he was wearing any datawoven fabric, and then her eyes caught on his belt.

He met her eyes briefly and then he turned his thoughts inward, not even needing to close his eyes.  He looked very serious for a moment, with his eyes out of focus, and then the belt flashed silver.

Sylvia gasped quietly, staring at it.  It went back to normal after the brief flash, and she looked up and saw him staring at her.

She whispered, “Are you still holding it?”

He nodded.

“You try,” he suggested, and his eyes narrowed as he focused on holding the connection.

“Now?”

He nodded again.

Okay
, she said to herself, and closed her eyes.

Blackness, but for the glowing silver earlink, giving life to the datawoven threads around her forearm.  The threads respond with light of their own, matching that of the earlink.  It was the same light.

She had known what it would feel like, but was still unprepared when everything in her mind seemed to snap sideways.  She had it.

The connection vibrated through her mind, like the way the floor of the train hummed through her body, like the electric current that had woven through her veins on the ancient stage.  This time, she would keep it up until
she
let go.

She latched onto the connection, solidifying the glowing visions once more before opening her eyes.

Atlan was grinning at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Let’s try something,” he whispered.

A shiver ran up her spine, but she willed the connection to stay.  It
would
stay.

Staring into his bright grey eyes, she waited for what it was he wanted to try; at the same time she wove her mind through the feeling of connection, memorizing its pathways and patterns.

But then she felt something else, something foreign pressing in on the connection; like a finger poking into a bubble.

Sylvi—

“Ahh!”

She leapt from her chair, and the connection snapped.  She staggered a few steps back. 
Had he just—?

“What 
was that!” she demanded.

He smiled, infuriating her even more.

“D-Did you just—” she stammered as she gripped the back of her chair, not wanting to sit back down just yet.

“Yes, and it’s normal here,” he said slowly.  “It’s called linking.  I’m sorry—it’s just, I hadn’t tried it yet.”

“So people can just—talk—to each other, inside their—” She felt like she was starting to shake.

Atlan scooted his chair back, and came over to her.  He took her shoulders and guided her back into her seat.  His hands felt as if they sparked electricity from her skin.  She numbly sat back down, and tried to take deep breaths.  Her shoulders felt warm where he had held them.

“Most of the time, people put controls on so you can’t just link automatically.”

She stared at him blankly.

“Most of the time, you have to ask first,” he explained.

She nodded.  “So people do this all the time?”

“Yeah,” he said, biting his lip, looking guilty.  “Do you want me to go?”

She blinked out of her stupor.  “No—no wait.  Let’s try it again.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.  But let’s do it anyway.”

Twenty Five

The light from Ember’s orb bounced off the tunnel walls as she followed Luna up the stairs.
She had had enough.

Ven and Flint had left her in Meadowcity—
wouldn’t even let her help find Sylvia!—
and gone without her.  They had bleated that since she wasn’t a Rider or Hunter, she wouldn’t be an asset on the trail. 
But what about Flint?
, she argued again to herself. 
He’s not a Rider, either.  He’s a stone cutter!  And that Rolfe guy—he’s a woodcarver!
   She huffed noisily.  Ven had picked and chosen his favorites.

It was impossible for Ember to sit still while the others did all the work.  They shunted her aside because she was from Riftcity, or because they thought she wasn’t good enough, or because they didn’t trust her.

She had been trapped in Meadowcity for months, stuck under mounds of snow and Gero’s command that no one leave the city through winter.  Outside of guard duty on the wall, the only thing she had to occupy herself with was helping to train Luna; and when Sylvia had announced her mission to Lightcity, Ember had become Luna’s sole trainer.  The Rider had rarely been seen outside of Citizen’s Hall, where she had been rooted in debates and war planning, weeks before her journey.  But now Ven and Gero thought something had gone awry with Sylvia’s mission.