The sea sang to itself in the music of
blue water and salt and gulls’ cries as I sat above it, crouched atop the
column-like Looking Rock with a spear clenched in my hand and words of
frustration crawling on my tongue. The water below lapped at the edges of the
rock, foaming over the pebbled shore that ringed the rock, and the foam hid the
fish I was trying to catch.
I bent over the water and stabbed the
spear into the foaming waves. When I withdrew it from the pool, a fish wriggled
on the end, and I smiled with a quick jerk of my lips. I had always been good
with a spear, somewhat inexplicably according to Nealla.
I tossed the fish into my sack and moved
to the other side of the Looking Rock, where the tide pools were often filled
with exotic things washed in from the sea. It was a secret place, and few knew
to look here. I came often whenever I had a moment of freedom from my duties,
for if I could catch enough things of value, I could sell them in the
marketplace and add coin to the stash I kept hidden away, the stash that would
one day buy my freedom.
The first tide pools were disappointingly
empty except for a few anemone and starfish clinging to the sides of the rocks,
and a yellow fish darting away from my face as I peered down.
I moved on. Three more pools, empty. But
luck had not abandoned me. At the final pool I stopped, transfixed by the
creature I saw beneath the surface.
It was eerie and beautiful, with
fluttering fins along its throat and back and tail, speckled blue scales, and a
mouth full of teeth. It wasn’t a fish or a dolphin or a snake, but something
that looked like bits of all three. I had never seen such a creature. It was
some monster from the depths, but a small one.
I bent over the rock, sliding my belly
forward by inches, peering into the deep glassy green of the pool beneath where
the creature swam in small circles, imprisoned until high tide. I didn’t want
to use a spear on such a magnificent creature. For this, I needed a net.
I stabbed my spear into the edge of the
pool, marking the fish-creature as mine. Then I scrambled to the edge of the
Looking Rock. The wind swirled around me, wetting me with a mist of sea spray
as I brought my arms forward and dove into the sea below.
Bubbles exploded around me as I swam
through the green-blue water. Below, fish wove between a jewel-colored spread
of coral. A dark line at the edge of my vision signaled where the shallow
waters ended and the deep water began.
No one ever went out into deep water.
I reached the larger rocks that rose from
the water like the spearheads of giants and hauled myself onto a sea-carved
shelf of white stone. My master’s house was before me, a collection of caves
and hollows in the rock. It was a nice house, with a strip of pebbled beach
facing west. Beyond the beach, a shallow place for bathing and washing was
surrounded by thin white stones that protruded from the water like fingers and
broke the force of the waves.
A hole in the rock wall led to the
interior. Strings of shells formed a curtain barrier, and they tinkled and
clicked in the wind. I shoved them aside and stepped into the cool stone
passage leading to the house.
I needed one of my master’s nets. Just to
borrow, to catch that fish.
The master’s father sat on a mat beside
the fire, muttering to himself. Beside him were nets, the small ones used for
hand fishing. He was mending them, his wrinkled hands moving swiftly as he
worked over a hole.
“Hello, Old One,” I said, speaking
carefully and respectfully. “I need to borrow a net.”
He lifted his head and scrutinized me. I
was dripping from the sea. My hair stuck to my neck and forehead. Droplets fell
from my fingers.
He reached for one of the nets and lifted
it toward me, but pulled it back before I could take it.
“Don’t go in the deep places,” he said,
and his voice creaked. “The Sea People are in the deep places.”
“Yes, Old One,” I said, leaning forward
to reach the net.
The master’s father was crazy, but
gentle. Sometimes he liked to ramble about fables from his youth, and sometimes
I listened, because none of the others did, and I felt sorry for him.
I didn’t have time for it today.
“I saw one of their ships the other
night,” he continued, pulling the net farther away and out of reach again.
“Came up from the depths, black as a wet stone, bright with lights. They’re
watching us.”
“Don’t worry, Old One,” I said. “We’ll
keep you safe.”
He harrumphed as if doubtful and handed
me the net. “Stay out of the deep places,” he said again.
I snatched the net and hurried outside
once more. The wind fanned my face. I stopped at the edge of the water and
shaded my eyes against the glaring sun.
Someone else was on the Looking Rock. I
saw a figure moving around the pool. Confound that Old One and his stories! I
splashed into the water, my heart pounding as I swam hard, kicking my legs. I
reached the rock and hauled myself up, hair dripping, leaving wet footprints as
I ran to the tide pools. A young man stood at the edge of the pool, his feet
hanging in the water, his arms braced behind him and his face tipped toward the
sun. He was lounging, waiting for me, stretched out as if to show off his
physical perfections and the gold bracelets on his arms and ankles. That
handsome, arrogant face, smirking mouth, and long, dark lashes that contrasted
with his pale, wavy hair—I’d know him anywhere.
Nol.
I looked past him into the water and
stopped in horror.
The creature was gone.
My bag of sad little fish lay at the edge
of the rock, looking deflated in the sunlight. My spear lay beside it.
Fury built up at the back of my neck and
swept through my throat to take hold of my tongue. Anger licked at my bones.
“You stole my catch.”
Nol opened one eye and looked at me.
“What are you talking about? Your bag of fish is right there. I didn’t touch
it.”
“No. The creature in the pool—it was my
catch. I found it first, as was clearly demonstrated by my spear marking the
pool. You took it! Where did you put it?” I was furious, devastated.
Nol straightened and blinked at me. His
smile was slow and smooth, like butter being spread across bread.
“It wasn’t your fish,” he said. “It
wasn’t in your net, so you had no claim.”
“I marked it with my spear—”
“You aren’t a fisherman, thrall-girl. The
rules of the village don’t apply to the likes of you. You have no identifying
marker that deserves to be honored, and that thing you call a spear is simply a
piece of garbage with a point at one end. It could have washed into the pool on
its own, for all I know.”
I wanted to strangle him. My anger was
hot and fierce, and it made my legs tremble. But he was the mayor’s second son,
and he could do as he liked. Instead, I bit my tongue and turned away.
I’d lost this round, but I would not lose
to Nol again.
Excerpt #2 for Of Sea and Stone
The broad stone ground
of the Training Rock was warm and smooth beneath my bare feet. A salt-scented
wind teased the tendrils of hair escaping from beneath my hood. I straightened
my spine and lifted my chin as if I belonged as I approached the group of boys
and young men, who stood in a haphazard line before the target of wood.
I
took my place at the end of the line.
The
smell of salt filled the air. Gulls screamed overhead as the first boy drew
back his arm and threw his spear. It glanced off the target and clattered on
the rock. His face creased with disgust, and he turned away. The second boy
threw, and the tip of his spear embedded itself in the corner of the target.
I
was better at throwing than any of these boys. I’d always been good at it,
better than anyone else my age when I was small enough to swim in the shallows
with the free children and sleep in my mother’s arms at night. My mother had
beamed with pride to see me throw, and so I continued to hone my skill even
after she was gone. Sometimes I went out to the edge of the rocks that formed a
ring around the sea like a circle of stone arms, and I caught fish to put on
the fire so Nealla and I could eat more than the meager food we were provided
for our meals. I was better than all of them, but being a girl banned me from
participating in the competition.
At
the front of the line stood Nol, the oldest in the competition and the favorite
of the crowd. He cast a glance my way, but didn’t look long. I exhaled as he
turned his head away.
One
by one, the boys threw their spears. They were still learning, and few were
good yet. The aim of a fisherman was impeccable, once he’d mastered the art,
but these were just boys.
I
swallowed as the boy beside me took his turn, and then it was mine. I stepped
forward and hefted my spear. The weight was familiar in my hand. I inhaled,
squinted at the target, and threw.
The
spear buried itself at the edge of the middle circle. A few of the boys cried
out in appreciation. Sweat broke out across my back.
I
hadn’t meant to throw quite so well.
Nol
turned his head again to look at me. He wasn’t stupid, even if he was infuriating.
He’d seen Kit throw before.
I
held my breath, and he looked away.
Those
who had struck the target gathered their spears and tried again. There were
only a few of us, and the number rapidly dwindled. I threw poorly, but my spear
seemed to swerve to meet the target against my will, and the rest of the boys
threw with the skill of drunken monkeys. Finally, only Nol and I were left.
My
heart drummed in my chest. I didn’t dare look at Nol or the crowd.
“You’ve
improved, Kit,” Nol said as he passed me to retrieve his spear.
It
was clear by the way he strode toward the target that he thought victory was
assured for him. He barely spared me a glance as he drew back his arm to throw.
The
crowd waited, breathless.
Nol
threw first. His spear struck the inner circle of the target, and he
straightened, pleased. I could tell by his posture that he thought he’d won.
The necklace of shell he always wore tinkled faintly as he turned to me. He
yanked off his mask, and his expression was triumphant.
“Your
turn.”
I
drew my arm back and took aim. I heard the rush of the sea behind me, the cry
of gulls above me, and the hiss of my breath over my teeth as I threw. Sea and
gulls and breath combined to make music. I shut my eyes and threw.
My
spear hit the mark and quivered.
It
had struck closer to the center.
The
boys roared in approval and swarmed around me. Nol’s jaw tightened, and he shot
a glance toward the crowd. I saw his father, the mayor, frowning.
I
stepped forward to receive my prize. As I passed Nol, suspicion crossed his
face. He snatched off my mask, dislodging my hood in the process.
My
long hair tumbled down around my shoulders. Wind fanned my face.
I
was exposed.
The
crowd gasped. Nol let go of me as if he’d been burned.
“It’s
Tagatha’s thrall!” someone shouted.
“You
deceptive little brat,” the spear master snarled. “Where’s Kitran?”
I
ran.
The
spear master grabbed for me. His fingers slipped through my hair, giving one
painful tug, then the strands ripped from my scalp and I ran faster. I reached
the edge of the cliff, dropped Kit’s spear, and jumped.
The
rock was hard beneath my feet as I leaped, and then salty air rushed around me,
the gulls’ screams filled my ears, and I was falling, falling, falling through
air and wind and sunlight. I brought my arms forward right before I entered the
water in a perfect dive.
Bubbles
exploded across my vision as I hit the water. Blue closed around me, cold and
shocking, shutting out the shouts above. My chest skimmed the sandy bottom of
the lagoon. Fish shot away, and seaweed snagged my ankles. The rocks of the bay
were dark against the orange light of the dying sun.
I
swam a ways from the cliff, holding my breath, kicking my legs to propel myself
forward.
When
my head broke the surface, I heard the spear master shouting after me. I swam
away, my arms making sure, even strokes as his threats echoed across the water
after me. I had no fear that he would jump in after me. I was one of the
strongest swimmers in the village. He couldn’t catch me, and he wouldn’t try.
But
I couldn’t swim forever.
Excerpt #3 for Of Sea and Stone
We
walked across a bridge enclosed with glass that stretched between the ship and
the city of Celestrus. Glass and twisted metal were the only things standing
between the sea and us. I looked up and saw a long, sinuous shape curl through
the waters above us—some giant, unknown sea creature—and a shiver passed over
my skin as I remembered the dark shape that had passed beneath our ship on the
journey over.
What
other things lurked in the ocean’s depths?
The
first guard planted his hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward,
drawing my thoughts back to the present, back to the rush of warm air from the
round opening ahead, the clank of our feet against the metal floor, and Nol
telling the guard exactly what he’d like to do to him if he had a sword in
hand.
I
kept my mouth shut, because I wasn’t stupid.
We
stepped through the round doorway, entering a round room with walls and floors
of polished metal. The ceiling arched above us, made of rose-colored glass and
shot through with metal that I supposed held it aloft. I could see shapes
moving above it, churning shadows that stamped and brushed the ceiling and
bewildered me until I realized I was seeing people’s feet and garments. The
ceiling above must serve as a walkway for an even higher level, I realized. I
stared at the strange shadow dance until someone nudged me. The guard.
A
bench ran along one wall, and a man sat on it, waiting for us. He stood when we
entered.
He
must have been old, but his face was astonishingly smooth, almost ageless. His
skin was the color of copper. His long hair black hair, streaked with gray at
the temples, hung down his back in a mass of braids, and he wore light purple
robes that draped off his thin body and engulfed his wrists. He did not look
unkind, which was a good sign.
The
guards herded me forward.
“What
is your name?” he asked me.
“Aemi,”
I said.
“Ah,
Aemi. Exquisite name. Means sea-born
in the old tongue.”
I
lifted my gaze, startled. “Yes, it does.”
He
smiled, a quick quirk of his lips that transformed his face into something
kindly. “And you?” he asked Nol.
Nol
turned his head and would not speak. The man looked back at me.
“He’s
called Nol,” I said, and I saw a muscle jump in Nol’s jaw when I spoke his
name. He gave me a look of pure loathing, and I knew I had betrayed him by
giving up his identity to the man when he had clearly wished to make a
statement by withholding it.
“Nol,
eh? Short for Nolen?”
“Just
Nol,” he growled.
“I
am called Merelus,” he said, seemingly unruffled by the waves of anger
radiating from Nol. “I hope we can learn to respect each other, as unfavorable
as this situation may be for you.”
Respect
each other? His words confused me, but I bit my lips and said nothing.
“Come,”
Merelus said to us, and nodded to the guards. “I’ll take you both.”
“Their
wristlocks, sir,” the guard said.
“Ah,
yes.” Merelus paused and waited as the guard approached us and snapped a thick
band of silver over our right wrists.
“This
will set off an alarm if you enter any area forbidden to Indentureds,” he
informed us gruffly. “And you will be punished.”
I
looked around for Myo, but he was gone. I supposed I would never see him again.
He’d never bid me goodbye. Why would he? I was just a slave.
The
click of the wristlock around my arm made me flinch. Merelus watched my face,
and his eyebrows drew together as if he were seeing more than I intended him
to. I turned my head away and met Nol’s eyes. They smoldered with fury as he
submitted to having the wristlock placed on him.
“Well,”
Merelus said when it was done. “That’s over. Let’s go, shall we?” He indicated
the door.
My
mouth fell open as we stepped through it.
Arching
ceilings soared overhead, joining in a web of patterned glass held in place by
golden metal beams that swirled and formed fantastic shapes. The floors were
gleaming stone set in curling patterns beneath our feet. Doorways and corridors
branched off from the main thoroughfare, opening onto other plazas and rooms
filled with fountains and statues.
Far
ahead of us, six corridors converged on a round plaza with a sculpture of a
dolphin in the center. Blinding light poured over the dolphin from a ceiling
that glowed with light like a captured sun.
I
glanced at Nol. He stared ahead, his mouth pressed in a rigid line. His hands
were white and clenched at his sides. He refused to seem impressed.
But
I saw no reason to hide my amazement. I gaped at everything.
“You
have never been to Celestrus before,” Merelus observed, watching my reaction.
“No.”
I remembered Myo’s warnings and said nothing else of my past.
“The
Jeweled City,” he said, smiling. “Seat of learning and the arts. The most
beautiful place in all of Itlantis. Exquisite, if I may say so.”
I
believed it.
Men
and women filled the corridors and corresponding plazas that connected them.
Most wore flowing tunics or robes over the one-piece jumpsuits, or simply the
jumpsuits. A few were dressed in other garments—trousers, dresses. The blend of
fashions bewildered me. The people had varying appearances too—some with skin as
brown as polished driftwood, others as pale as sand. Most had long, straight
black or brown hair, and large eyes that came in vivid blues, greens, and
browns. Nol’s pale hair stood out and drew him a few looks of interest and
curiosity.
We
crossed a bridge of shining metal and glass and into a round-roofed chamber
large enough to fit the Village of the Rocks inside in its entirety. A vast
floor stretched before us, and the ceiling was ribbed with metal supports and
set with colored glass. Through the glass, I caught glimpses of the ocean, vast
and dark and rippling with fish.
“The
commons,” Merelus said, gesturing to the space before us.
This
place was anything but common.
We
passed through this glorious space and reached another. They were like a string
of bubbles, one after the other. This chamber had dozens of doors set into the
walls, and staircases going down into the floor and up toward the roof. I
craned my neck to see around us. Balconies spiraled around the domed roof as
far as I could see.
Merelus
stopped before a door of bronzed metal and touched the handle.
“Welcome
home,” he said.
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