Of Blood Earth and Magic Page 3

  We’ve reached the transport lift to the upper levels. There’s only one for the whole city, that’s how limited travel is between the different sectors. Ravi is designed in four concentric rings, leading up to the Capitol at the peak of a high hill; the better to see our enemies approaching. And with the wide swath of the lower ring our first line of defense against attack, the better to protect the scientists, government officials, and aristocracy. We focus on science and a progressive future at the same time that we’re stuck in the past, lingering in an echo of fear from a war that occurred three hundred years ago.

  The lift is a large glass orb framed in metal hung from a set of cables that travel up and down the hill. Ralin opens the door for me and I step past a sleepy looking Polara guard and take a seat on one of the leather-cushioned benches around the perimeter. We’re the only passengers, no surprise at this hour. The lift rumbles into movement and rises up over the sea of thatch-roof houses below.

  Further up the hill the houses become larger, made of stone or terracotta. The greater the distance from the wall, the nicer the neighborhood. After several minutes the lift reaches the second ring of the city, which is where the Polara barracks and training facilities are. It is utilitarian and monochromatic in contrast to the lower reaches of the city. Finally, we reach the third ring, where most of the scientists and other academic types take residence. The lift comes to a stop and we get out.

  The homes in this sector are equipped with a miscellany of weather devices and star gazers and automated watering devices for the gardens. There are also study compounds housing clusters of scientists: geologists and botanists and astronomers and alchemists. We pass a tower that collects energy from lightning strikes and a glass pillar that changes color when a magical storm approaches. As we walk, Ralin stops briefly at a robot that dispenses remedies for basic ailments and gets two blue pills which he passes to me.

  “That should dull the pain.”

  I don’t question his rare moment of sympathy, but swallow the pills quickly. “Thanks.”

  All is deathly quiet in this sector of the city. It’s hard to imagine that people live here at all. We pass one twenty-four hour clinic, but Ralin keeps walking. He’s looking for someone who will have discretion. Someone who won’t run their mouth about the High Official’s son getting his nose broken in an illegal fight. If he knew I usually got this sort of injury fixed by a Moon doctor down in the Brevonar his head would probably explode.

  We finally stop before a small house nearly halfway around the ring of the city. Small but immaculate, and with a lamp in the window that casts friendly butter-yellow light across the brick-lined avenue. Ralin raps sharply on the door. Even his knock sounds efficient.

  It takes nearly a minute for someone to answer, a middle-aged woman wearing huge spectacles and a halo of golden hair. Ralin simply jerks his chin toward me, not that it’s necessary since my bashed face draws the eye. The doctor’s eyes widen and she escorts us inside.

  We are led to a room at the back of the house. It is pristine and white. I sit in an uncomfortable metal chair as the medic opens a supply cabinet along the wall and pulls out a bottle of purple liquid, a strip of cloth, and a long metal object. After dabbing the purple liquid over my raw skin, which burns like flame, she presses a button on the side of the metal object. There is a green crystal at the end, and the crystal begins to glow.

  With a gesture for me to tilt my head back, she runs the crystal along my nose, a mere half inch above the wound. There’s a tugging sensation, which I’m pretty sure is my bone coming back into place. Then she presses another button, and this time when she runs the metal wand above my face, my skin knits back into place.

  “There,” she says after a quarter hour or so. “How does it feel?”

  “Much better than it did before,” I say with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she says, though her eyes flit to Ralin as she says it.

  She shows us to the door and we head back down the way we came, along the silent streets.

  Ralin doesn’t lead us back to the lift. The Capitol sector is only a short walk from here, though we have to go back to the main road and through a guarded gate. As we reach the road, I can see down the vast hill all the way to the city gates, the only entrance in or out of Ravi. And between us and the city gates, the smaller gates that separate the sectors. Striations of society laid bare, a sight few ever viewed. It’s said that all seven of the Sun cities are built the same. Not that I’d know from personal experience.

  Once we’re through the gate and standing beneath the ostentatious bulk of the Capitol building, Ralin stops and turns to me. His face holds conflict, an expression not common for him to wear.

  “Ashe, do I need to mention to your father that you want to leave Ravi? You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?” He pauses, sucking in a deep breath. “Because I’ll keep that between us if you can promise me you won’t.”

  As I contemplate his words, I realize that I haven’t actually given much thought to running away. I like my jaunts down to the fight rings, but to leave the city without permission? I guess I’d been hoping that Father would start to let up on his overprotectiveness and allow me to travel like a proper diplomat. Which sounds naive, even in my own head.

  “Sure, Ralin. I promise.”

  As the words leave my mouth, I’m not sure whether I’m lying to him, or to myself.

  Chapter Five

  Elea

  We hear nothing after Anoki’s arrest, hour after hour after hour. He’s never been arrested before, at least not since I’ve been with the circus. I don’t want to think about what that could mean for me, for all of us. I lie on my narrow cot and try to sleep, but my mind tumbles the same dark thoughts over and over.

  I don’t remember Anoki finding me in the beginning, which isn’t a surprise since I was so young. He refuses to speak of where he found me, or how. My parents are also an off-limits subject, though I know at least one thing about them: a truth told by my eyes.

  My first memory is of the shapeshifter, in wolf form, keeping me warm at night. The roughness of his fur, the cold tip of his nose. I recall the dream weaver, spinning beautiful pictures and singing me to sleep. The key master as well, chastising me for sticking his keys in my mouth when I was teething. Then, when I was around seven, Koko joined the circus and for the first time I had another child to play with.

  Anoki, of course, is also in my early memories. He made sure I knew from an early age that he had not taken me in out of pity. I was expected to draw crowds, to earn money. He started teaching me to ride as soon as he found me, making the shapeshifter turn into a small pony and cart me around. As I got older, real ponies. And then I found Soraya when I was twelve, abandoned by her herd, unwanted and alone, just like me.

  That horsemanship is the focus of my performance is not an accident. Of all the performers, I am the only one forbidden to use magic, even mundane magic.

  But for all his gruffness and reprimands, Anoki is the only parent I have. Plus, aside from Koko, he’s the only one who knows my secret. Now he is locked up by the Polara, undergoing who knows what. When the sun rises across the plains and the horses nicker for their breakfast on the other side of my little room, I am still awake.

  In the afternoon we start another show. We’ve heard nothing from Anoki, but the dream weaver says we must continue until we do.

  We start with our reenactment of the Shaman Wars, which is a crowd pleaser for some reason though everyone already knows the history. Perhaps it’s because it’s the one act we all do together. One circus member creates enchanting backdrops; another dramatic weather. Yet another turns into a variety of characters, both animal and human. Koko plays the Moon general, and I her second in command. The key master plays the Sun general. Usually it’s Anoki that plays the Shadow general, but since he’s not here the shapeshifter doubles as that, too.

  It starts with the three tribes living peacefully in Iamar. Each has their own unique vein of magic. They complement each other and live in harmony. But then it happens—the Shadow Tribe grows envious of the powers held by the Sun and the Moon, and they attempt to conquer both and devour their power. The resulting war lasts nearly fifty years. Wild magic is called upon, dark magic that should never be used. It ravages the land, creating storms, strange anomalies, and even stranger creatures. Finally, the Sun Tribe ends the war with a devastating use of their magic, harnessing the powers of wind and fire to all but annihilate the Shadow Tribe. A few dozen Shadows survive the slaughter and flee from Iamar, never to be seen again. Or so the story goes.

  The aura of the room is melancholy, but we shift the performance now to show the grand rise of the Sun Empire. We throw this in to pander to our audience, who are mostly Sun citizens, and it makes me feel ill every time I do it. Glorifying how the Suns turned their backs on magic forever, turned to technology instead. How they grew in size and built massive glittering cities, becoming a great and noble people.

  What we don’t show are the massive earth changes that occurred a hundred years later, when the land was laid waste by earthquakes and tornados that leveled those cities. We don’t show how the Sun Tribe simply abandoned them and the dead within and moved on to rebuild, leaving the detritus in their wake. We don’t show how anyone from the Shadow Tribe that sets foot in Iamar is put instantly to death. The Shadow are a fable, a tale whispered to scare small children. But I know, of course, that they aren’t just a legend.

  Clapping sounds in my ears and I realize we are done. Quickly, I raise my arms over my head and put on a smile before bowing along with the others.

  Everything I’ve ever known may be coming to an end, but the show must go on.

  Chapter Six

  Ashe

  We pass the Capitol and head past a row of huge houses. Mine is at the end. The mansions are all made of stone or brick or terracotta painted in bright colors. Roofs of bronze or gold or mosaic reflect the moonlight. Cascades of flowers from terraced gardens fall into the street.

  Before we’ve gone far, Ralin stops outside a plain stone building with a cupola at the peak. It houses both horses and messenger hawks. “Wait here,” he says and goes inside.

  His shadow disappears beyond the arched entryway. I follow him a few moments later. Leather and bird droppings scent the air as I make my way in the dark. Ralin’s shadow moves ahead of me. For some reason, by black of night his limp is accentuated. Maybe he’s not hiding it because he thinks no one’s looking.

  He makes his way to the center of the building where the hawks are kept beneath the cupola, which stands open to the night beneath the domed roof. Perches wrapped in leather stick out from the wall above our heads. Several of the huge birds rest there, their heads tucked into their feathers as they sleep. Ralin’s footsteps cause them all to unfurl and stare down at us. He makes a low whistle and one of the hawks flies down to his wrist.

  Only a sliver of moonlight from the opening overhead illuminates Ralin as he pulls a small canister from the leather thong at the bird’s ankle. His slim fingers flick the end of it open and a roll of paper slides out. It’s sealed with wax, an indigo blot like a bruise. Ralin goes still and then shakes his head.

  “Why didn’t they open it?” I ask, because indigo is the seal of Ravi. Whomever we sent the message to returned it unopened.

  Ralin stiffens and then turns. “I told you to wait outside.”

  “And I’m predictably disobedient.”

  “We should get you to your father.” Ralin raises his wrist and the hawk leaps off, rising back to his rest overhead. “Maybe he’ll tell you.”

  “Come on, Ralin. You know he won’t tell me anything. I never know what’s going on.” I lock him with an imploring gaze.

  He sighs, a rush of breath and dismay. “It’s Arevik. They haven’t responded to any of our messages for the last month.”

  Shock pulses along my spine. Not only because Ralin told me, but also because his words are more than a bit unsettling. Ominous even. Arevik, the capitol city of Iamar, has cut off correspondence?

  “What does that mean?” I ask. I can feel the surprise on my face, and my fingers tingle ever so slightly.

  “I don’t know,” Ralin says slowly.

  A moment passes and then he pulls himself up, regaining his stoicism. “Let’s go.”

  I follow wordlessly as we leave the barn and continue the journey to my house. Minutes later we walk through the massive bronze doors stamped with the Sun Empire emblem, the curved rays of light coming off the suns in a perfect symmetrical pattern. Our footfalls echo down the hallways. Paintings of my ancestors line the walls, and they all seem to frown at me as we pass. But they’re nothing compared to what I have waiting for me at the end of the hall.

  I’m surprised to hear several different voices as we approach the double doors to my father’s study. At first I think it’s him and my mother, but it’s not her voice. It’s the members of my father’s council. Ralin lifts a hand to halt me and we pause outside the room. After several moments, he takes a step forward and knocks lightly. The voices fall silent and then footsteps are heard.

  My father opens the door a crack and steps out into the hall with us, closing the door behind him. His looks down the bridge of his narrow nose at me, jaw clenched, and his blue eyes burn like ice into mine. We stand there for several moments as he stares me down, his anger heating the air between us.

  “So, no apology?” he finally says with gritted teeth.

  “Only if I get one in return,” I retort.

  He stiffens. “I can’t imagine why you deserve one.”

  “Then that only goes to show you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said to you the last few years.” I nod toward the study. “Why is the council here so late?”

  “It’s no concern of yours,” he says, biting off each word.

  “Of course not—why should the future leader of the city know what’s going on?” I turn away from him. “I’m going to bed.”

  I’ve taken two steps down the hall when he speaks again. “This was the last time, Ashe. I’m assigning a dozen guards to follow your every move. No more trips down into the lower reaches of the city. No more defiance.”

  I keep walking, letting his words fall to the tile floor behind me. But my insides tighten, and adrenaline sings through my veins. My father doesn’t bluff. He means what he says, and that means that my prison is about to get very small indeed.

  When I reach the door to my bedroom I realize that Ralin is a few steps behind me. I pause as I turn the doorknob and he catches my eye, his expression stoic.

  “He means well, Ashe. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but it’s not a good time for you to be running off on your own.”

  “Because of what’s going on in Arevik?”

  Ralin’s jaw tightens. “Among other things.”

  “If he let me be privy to any of this, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe I could help.” I sigh and step into my room. “Good night, Ralin.”

  He nods as I close the door. My gaze roves over my room: the wall of books, the desk piled high with maps and scrolls, the telescope perched at the edge of my balcony. I love this space, every corner and crevice. But I’m not interested in becoming a prisoner in my own home. I feel smothered enough as it is.

  I move about my room, run water in the bathroom, make sounds as if I am going to bed. My intentions, however, are the exact opposite. It’s clear what I must do, my father has given me no choice. It’s tonight, or never.

  Chapter Seven

  Elea

  After the show is over, I pace outside Soraya’s stall. The waiting is killing me. Not knowing if Anoki is dead or alive. Not knowing if he’s being tortured. Even inside the tent, I can feel the walls of the city towering over me. Though I’ve never stepped foot beyond them, they are my anchor, my prison.

  When I can’t take it anymore, I open Soraya’s stall door and lead her out the back of the tent. The night is cold, a brisk wind spinning down on us. Grabbing a fistful of mane, I spring onto her broad back. She prances beneath me; she knows where we’re going. I shift my weight forward and she’s off like a comet, into the night.

  We move as the wind moves, without weight or time. Over the plains, far from Ravi, until all I can see of it is a faint twinkle on the horizon. And then farther, until there is nothing. Nothing but us, and the dark, and the earth, and the sky. Winter bites my cheeks and Soraya’s mane whips in the wind.

  When we finally stop, Soraya’s ribs expand and collapse beneath my calves from her long gallop. She tosses her head, her gray mane shimmering along her neck. I pat her shoulder and we stand for a moment and just breathe. I can almost taste the stars on my tongue. For as far as I can see, the land is flat and empty. They say there used to be things called trees, but they are as much a legend as the Shadow Tribe.

  The memory prickles over me like bits of sand: Koko and I, sitting in my room, in the tent. Colored lanterns from the merchants of the Zimarian Desert shone triangles of light down on us. The floor was littered with wakan, spell books. Koko was practicing a spell to move water from one bowl to another. The water rose in glittering drops that reflected the lamplight, spiraling through the air. I was intensely jealous.

  It had been almost a year since Koko gained use of her magic, around the time she turned twelve. Partly because she was a year older than me. But also partly because Anoki had been tutoring her. Was he waiting to tutor me until my magic came in? Or was there another reason? I was too afraid to ask. Asking Anoki about my parents only ever led to a harsh reprimand followed by silence for days. If I didn’t ask about magic lessons, perhaps there was still hope. But once I knew the answer…