Aquifer (12 page)

I
start to shake.

Born here. Why was Mother here? Why did Father take her on a descent? There are plenty of clinics on top
. “That can’t be true,” I say. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You’ll need to face truth sometime.” She glances back toward the great hall. “But you heard much tonight. Too much. Come, I know a place.”

She grasps my hand, and we slip off the main road. In the distance, another prism glows.

She slows at its edge and removes her glove. Her palm, it shines. “Hold your breath.” She whispers, glances over her shoulder and grabs my arm, reaches down and presses her palm onto the light.

Falling. I’m falling, but only for a moment. A current wild and free catapults me forward. We’re in water, and I force open my eyelids. Lights pierce down from above. Thousands of orbs race above our heads, while shadows streak by. Figures. People?

My body chills and then warms, and for an instant I feel myself implode.

And then I am fine.

The Dwellings, the hall, the triangular building have disappeared. Wet spray coats my face and I step backward, pressing against a rocky hollow.

I stand behind a waterfall, the girl at my side. She releases my arm and comes forward, reaches her hand beneath the torrent.

“What was … How?” I feel my arms. I’m still whole. “Where —”

“First the how.” She slips on her glove, and the night falls dark. “Our city is built upon the solid surface layer of the Aquifer, but ten feet down something else exists. We call it the stratus, a fifty-foot deep lake of liquid water, left behind by our miners. When mining operations deepened, the stratus was left unused and free flowing, until by accident a light rod was dropped. Not only did it pass through the hard surface, but for a few moments the light scattered the rock around it, leaving temporary access to the stratus. The rod had been dropped on a crystal node, a uniquely permeable area of rock. We now mark all the nodes we find.”

“The prisms,” I whisper.

“We now harness light of the same frequency that exists in the rods, capture it as a liquid, and paint it on the palms of our hands. This allows our hands, like the rod, to scatter solid rock and open the Aquifer at the nodes. The matched frequencies give us moments to drop into the stratus, which is what we just did. After the drop, you must know the city. From underneath, the refracted light on each node draws the light on our hands, and us as well, forward; a simple electromagnetic connection. The closer to the surface we travel, the faster we move, until we upturn our palm and allow ourselves to open the node from beneath. Make sense?”

“No.” I focus on her hands.

“These gloves shield our eyes. We remove them only for travel and fresh applications.”

I lick my lips and stare at my boring palms. “Of course you do.”

“As far as the where. This is where I go to think. I bring my problems to the falls, open my hand, and let the water wash them away, wash me clean.” She peeks back at me. “Come on, Luca. You’ve been lied to your whole life. It’s time to let the lies go.”

“Lies? What if this place is filled with them? What if what I learned above is true?” I pause. “I don’t even know your name.”

“No, you don’t.”

The girl is the most infuriating, alluring Her I’ve ever met.

“Would it be too much trouble for me to know it?”

“No. That would be fine.”

“What is it? What is your name?” I groan. “Did I ask properly?”

“Talya. And yes, you did.” I run the name over in my mind. It’s a good name.

“Now, Luca. Come join me.”

I straighten and shuffle forward, my eyes on the slick stone beneath my feet. I reach my arm beneath the spray, feel the weighty power of the water, and draw my hand back to my mouth. Fresh.

“I can’t believe this place. Any of it.” My legs weaken, and I fall into Talya. She eases me back into the cleft and lowers herself beside me.

“I don’t think my father knows of this node. It’s so dim that when one passes through the stratus as shadow, it’s barely visible, but you don’t need to hear more tonight. Let your mind rest. All you heard will be waiting for you another day.”

The rush of water washes away Etria’s words, and we sit in silence for what feels a forever. My mind holds nothing. Thoughts flit like butterflies, slipping through my head.

Talya hums. A quiet, haunting hum. I search for the words, but they remain hidden.

She finishes, and I don’t want to speak, or for her to speak. I want to rest in the song’s afterglow.

Minutes pass, maybe longer, and the beauty of the melody blends with the rushing of the falls and the song that seems to sing on.

“Is it all so different?”

“Huh?” I ask.

“Above, is it all so different?”

“There are few smiles. There is no laughter, except on Holiday. Feelings …” I peek at her. “Songs — all forbidden. We live but we don’t
live
. And beneath it all is an anxiety, a strange below-the-surface fear. We’re taught to hold that emotion in check.”

To speak it, to speak my world plainly, sounds so harsh to my ears; I feel a need to defend it. “It’s beautiful too, with the warm sun and the ocean breeze …” I glance down. “But it’s dry — dry and lonely and cruel.”

“But you’re not those things.”

I think of the march of the undone, the hundreds of times I watched worlds end for errors made, not for guilt. For fear of those cursed dials, I did nothing. I was nothing.

I peek at Talya. “Sometimes I am.”

“Not when you were little.” She smirks and folds her arms. “You, Luca the Golden Child, you were a brat. Our little star. Everyone adored you, cared for you, loved you.”

There’s that word again.

“Not that they didn’t love the rest of us. It’s just that you were the first of your kind —”

“What kind? The first confused, anemic kid? You know, on top I’m Other in every way. Why should it be so different down here?”

Talya pauses and touches her fingers to her lips. “Maybe this is best left for my father to tell.”

“Please,” I say. “I need to know who I am, and I’d rather hear it from you. I need my truth, from the beginning.”

“Yes, you do,” she whispers. “It just had never happened before … a love union between a Topper and a Person of the Rock, and then a child …”

“My father is a Topper.”

Talya gently sways.

“Which means my mother was a Rat.”

“Of course.”

The world spins, and my body collapses into her lap. She strokes my hair as the rushing of water fades into the distance. But her hum, it remains with me, softly, gently ushering me into the darkness.

“Luca, Luca. My apologies for my daughter.” Etria leans over my cot.

My room is spacious, and light pours through the open window. It’s morning. Or the morning after morning.

“Talya is filled with … enthusiasm. She had no right taking the judge of our city on a pleasure tour through the stratus before he had adequate rest.”

I grunt and prop myself up on an elbow. “Where is she?”

“Contained.” Etria rolls his eyes. “For her good and my sanity.
Which brings me to another, more pressing issue. We have a guest, and I need a judgment as to how we should proceed.”

“I haven’t taken the job yet. I … need some time with Seward.”

Etria sighs, and for the first time I sense frustration. “I’ve not asked you to take a position. I’ve called you to assume your position; it is who you already are. Your birth, your descent in the line, dictates this for you. Centuries of judges have taken the chair before you arrived, each with joy, I might add. Their blood is in your veins. You are like them in every way —”

“Every way?”

Etria bends and speaks slowly. “You are like your ancestors, including Rabal, in every way.”

“Did any of them have a Rat for a mother?”

Etria stiffens and tongues the inside of his cheek. “No, in that tiny point you are correct. You are unique. But should that fact not draw you to this place all the more?”

“Did any of them have a father who was still living? Who was trapped by tormenters? How about those tiny points? Did any of my ancestors have a father in the hands of a wicked council when they happily assumed their position?”

“No.”

“Father Massa is your rightful judge.”

I lie back down, shut my eyes, and wait. When next I crack an eyelid, Etria hasn’t moved.

“You don’t take a hint. Fine. One time. What judgment do you need? Can’t I make it from this cot?”

“Come.”

We exit my dwelling, situated just beneath the great hall, to sunlight — only there is no sun. Instead, sourceless beams of light dance off the rocky ceiling and mirror against the sea,
shining in the distance. We march down the mountain and into a dwelling with no door.

My heartbeat skips, and I cast a panicked look at Etria.

“I assure you, Luca, he’s quite harmless.”

There sits an Amongus, still dressed in New Pertian red and gray.

Guilty. That’s a fair judgment for the one who struck Wren and Jasper, who lunged at me, who went over the edge with Seward
.

His eyelids are squeezed tight, his hands pressed firmly against his ears. Beautiful music sounds from a box in the corner, and around him stand easels, paintings of the Aquifer in all its glory.

Like those from my cellar.

“How’d he —”

“Eight of them fell together, likely from the dome cliff. We had no warning, and they landed across the sea. They were found dashed on the rock below. We quickly reversed the dome’s airflow and were able to catch the next two, setting them down gently. My sons brought them to me and I discovered, with great pleasure, Seward.” Etria circles the Amongus. “This one has not been so pleasant. Do you know him?”

A pang of fear strikes inside, and I nod. “I know what he’s done. And you leave him here with the door open? He could leave anytime.”

“Yes.”

“But he doesn’t.”

“If you want my thoughts on the matter, this man cannot handle the beauty. The appreciation of the lovely is an appetite that must be fed, or it dies. In that sense, this man is already dead.”

“Good. That’s what he deserves because of his deeds above; he undoes the innocent. He has earned his own undo —”

“Mercy, Luca. Mercy. He knows no other world.”

“Neither do I,” I snap.

Etria wraps his arm around me. “Not true. You began life with us. It’s why you wonder, why the things above seem so strange, why they feel wrong though you don’t know why. Wren has told me of your talks.” He looks into my eyes. “Your foundation is mercy.”

“I was here with my mother …”

“During your early years. Massa visited as often as he could, but when you turned five it became clear that Massa needed an heir, or he would be provided one by your Developers. Janus, who was our judge at that time, gave Massa, Alaya, and you his blessing to ascend and begin a life together. Given your symbolic importance, and the chance Alaya was taking should her origins be discovered, another was sent to watch over you, to assist Alaya with your transport and care and protection should the need arise.”

“Wren.”

“Yes. Alaya’s sister.”

I knew it. Somewhere I knew. The peace I felt with her. She felt like family, even above. “But Jasper says he found —”

“The Amongus were waiting. Your father expected their move. He emerged first, hoping to draw them away. Alaya was to wait, to slip out later in the darkness. Lastly, Wren was to deliver you to your parents. Obviously, all did not go as planned. Your mother was intercepted — undone, as you say — but for all our sakes, the Fates watched out for you, and Wren delivered you to Massa.”

“Who fell deep into depression.” I stare at the Amongus. “He hardly spoke to me, hardly knew me.”

“I do not know about those matters.”

No wonder I was so Other. I reminded him of all he lost
.

A tremor rumbles the room, and I stagger. The Amongus braces his hands on the floor.

Etria strokes the ground as Seward strokes the sea, feeling, listening. A shade of worry fills his eyes, but he quickly strengthens his face. “But that is history, and I called you to dictate this man’s future.”

I look at the Amongus, lean in front of him. His dial rests on the ground. It registers nothing. Overloaded, I’m sure.

“What is your name?” I ask.

“I don’t believe he can hear.”

“I need him to hear.”

Etria snaps his fingers, and his sons walk through the open door. Each takes hold of an arm and pulls. The Amongus, so powerful aboveground, quickly surrenders. He snarls and glances up at me. “Undo me now, but do not leave me in the hands of these beasts.”

I stand silent, and he spits on my boot. “Undo. Undo! This is no life.”

An urge, strange and untried, overcomes me. I reach out my hand and place it on his head, and as I do the words string together, filter into my mind. I try to change them, to alter the judgment, but I can’t. They are a whole, not to be separated.

“This man lives his judgment, his torment.” The voice is mine, but the idea, it feels rich and settled. Like Father’s when he spoke to the Amongus. “But so that he is not tormented further, he must go outside the camp, to the broad space across the Aquifer. He may always return, for food, for fellowship, to live among us. Or he may choose to risk his way to the surface. The choice will be his.”

There is silence.

I shake my head. “I … uh … I don’t know what I said there. It just came out.”

Etria folds his arms. “You gave a very wise judgment. Sons?”

They glance at each other and pull the Amongus from the room. I see a dimming of light outside the door and hear the half shriek of an Amongus. Clearly, he’s just discovered a node.

“You see where you belong,” Etria whispers. “You felt it. It is your gift, and your responsibility.”

I walk with Etria out onto the street and stare. People move about, pausing and smiling. They take their leave of me with winks and hugs. It is beautiful. More beautiful than the source that quenches our thirst. That is water, surely enough, but the cries and the squeals and the hurts and the joys — this is life.