Arkwright (37 page)

The thought must have occurred to her, as well, because Aara's expression was wary when she turned to them again. “Kaile,” she said quietly, “I can trust you, can't I? You're not going to run straight to the Guardians, are you?” She looked straight at the girl, meeting her gaze with suspicious eyes.

Kaile hesitated just long enough for Sanjay to realize that she was wrestling with her conscience. “No … no, I won't,” she said at last, much to his relief. “I'm not Aiko or Jak. I didn't want you to be banished. But Aara, why—”

“I can't tell you that. Not now, anyway. No time.” A nod toward the closed window. “It'll be morning soon, and we must be gone by then.” A pause. “Sanjay, I mean … Kaile, you're staying here, and I'm going to have to ask your word not to tell anyone that I was here or where—”

She stopped herself, but not before Sanjay knew what she meant to say next. “You want me to go with you?” he asked, and she nodded. “To Purgatory?” Again, a solemn nod. He felt a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Why?”

Before Aara could respond, Kaile spoke up again. “I saw a light in the sky last night while I was on watch. Just like the one you saw, but instead, it merged with Gal before it came down on Cape Exile. That has to do with this, doesn't it?”

A grim smile. “Yes, it does.” The smile disappeared, and Aara was thoughtful for a moment. “How many people know you spent the night here?”

“My parents. Dayall.” Kaile laid a fore on Sanjay's shoulder. “Just about everyone who saw us leave the beach together after we went diving yesterday.”

Aara sighed again, this time shaking her head. “So the Guardians will question you when he goes missing. I don't want you to have to face them or R'beca on my account. I can't make you come with us, but—”

“No. I want to come.”

Startled, Sanjay stared at her. She met his gaze and gave him a brief nod. Yes, she was aware of what she was getting into. And she was doing it, anyway.

“Very well,” Aara said as she turned away again. “Get up and get dressed, and be quick about it. I've got a boat waiting for us.”

“A boat from Purgatory? Who—”

“Never mind that now. We're leaving in two mins.”

Before Sanjay could ask any further questions, his mother left the room. No more lamps were lit, but as he and Kaile climbed out of bed, the soft creak of the pantry door told him that she was gathering food. He wondered why she'd bother to do so, but there was no time to ask.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked Kaile as he dug into his chest to give her a sarong, tunic, and calf boots that would be warmer than the thin shawl she'd worn the day before. Autumn was only a couple of days away, and they would be traveling far from home. “You know what this means, don't you?” he added as he put on nearly identical clothes.

Kaile didn't say anything, but the silent nod she gave him told all that he needed to know. For better or worse, they were about to join his mother in Purgatory.

 

5

The sisters were beginning to set when the three of them slipped out through the back door. Kaile had mentioned that it was Johan's turn to stand watch, which Sanjay took as a good sign; he knew that his best friend often stole a few hours of sleep in the tower so that he'd be rested enough to go to work the next day. In any case, though, they avoided the streets as much as they could and instead quietly made their way on all fours through shadowed alleys between cottages, sheds, and shops until they reached the forest on Childstown's eastern border. No one spotted them; in the coldest hours of the night, the town was asleep.

Aara led Sanjay and Kaile to the footpath leading south to Mountain Creek, which flowed through the forest from Mount Lookout to the northeast. The trail would take them to the coastal estuary where the creek drained into the bay. It was there, Aara told them, the boat that had carried her back across the channel was awaiting her return.

“You came over tonight?” Although they were now out of earshot from the village, Sanjay was careful to keep his voice down. “How were you not spotted?”

The forest they walked through was dark, the black fronds of the umbrella palms and sunshade trees forming a shadowed canopy that blotted out all but thin slivers of sisterlight. All the same, Sanjay could see the soft smile that played across Aara's face.

“The exiles have ways of getting here,” she said. “You'll see.”

“But the monarchs—”

“That's … something else entirely.” Her smile disappeared. “Now hush. No more questions.”

Sanjay and Kaile exchanged glances but obediently fell silent. Sanjay knew better than to argue with his mother. Still, he thought as he shifted the straps of his belly pack, she was being a little too mysterious about all this.

About three kilms from Childstown, they reached the end of the trail. Through the wild roseberry and bambu that grew along the shore, the estuary lay before them, its waters faintly shimmering with the reflections from Aether and Bacchae. From the other side of a genesis plant that rose beside the trail, Sanjay could make out a catamaran resting upon the narrow beach. As they approached the genesis plant, though, he heard a soft voice, male yet unlike any he'd heard before.

“The specimen appears to be fully mature, approximately 1.8 meters in height, its width … call it a little less than one meter at its base. As with all pseudonative species, its leaves are matte-black in pigmentation, a genetically engineered adaptation to the primary's lesser magnitude and, in this instance, generation of cyanobacteria and the subsequent production of atmospheric oxygen and nitrogen. Its form clearly indicates its descent from the giant hosta, albeit considerably larger. Altogether, it appears that the alteration of its basic genetic pattern has been remarkably successful, especially considering the—”

“We're here,” Aara said, raising her voice just a little.

Realizing that he was no longer alone, the person speaking abruptly stopped talking, but not before Sanjay spotted the individual to whom the voice belonged. Taller than any of them—as tall, in fact, as the genesis plant he stood beside—he stood upright on his hinds, his figure concealed by the hooded cloak that covered him from head to toe. Indeed, as they came closer, Sanjay was surprised to see that, beneath the cowl, he wore a dark veil across the lower part of his face, a mask that completely hid his features.

Yet it was his voice that intrigued Sanjay the most. Although the stranger had been speaking Inglis, many of the words he'd used were unfamiliar; Sanjay had clearly heard what he'd said but didn't understand its meaning. And the accent was strange: sharper, with an odd inflection of the syllables.

“Oh, good. You made it back.” The figure stepped away from the genesis plant, and for an instant, Sanjay noticed something held in his right fore before it disappeared within the cloak. “No trouble, I hope?”

“None. We got out of there without being spotted. But”—Aara hesitated and then stood erect to indicate Kaile—“I had to bring someone else. This is Kaile, my son's betrothed. She was with him when I found them. We couldn't leave her behind.”

A disgruntled sigh from the other side of the veil. “Are you sure? This could complicate things, you know.”

“If she stays, the Guardians will know that she was with Sanjay when he disappeared, because they were seen together all day yesterday and last night. They'll try to work the truth out of her, and R'beca is very good at that. With any luck, my husband and her family will believe that the two of them simply ran away for a while, as young people sometimes do.”

Sanjay now understood why Aara had taken food from the pantry. Once he and Kaile were found to be missing, which was inevitable, the most likely explanation would be that they'd taken off into the wilds for a little while, perhaps to a little lean-to shed Sanjay had secretly built in the mountains. Unbonded lovers occasionally did this when they wished to be free of the prying eyes of family and neighbors; it wasn't a practice condoned by the Disciples but tolerated nonetheless. If they were fortunate, no one would search for them for a little while, preferring to give them their privacy while they rehearsed their future roles as a bonded couple.

“Very well. If we have no choice.” The figure nodded his hooded head toward the boat. “Teri is waiting for you on the boat. If you'll give me a second … a sec, I mean … to cut a leaf…”

He stepped back toward the genesis plant. “Stop!” Kaile snapped, raising her fores. “You can't do that!”

The stranger halted, looked around at her again. “I'm sorry, but what—”

“It's forbidden to touch genesis plants.” Kaile was horrified by what she'd seen, but also perplexed. “It's in the Word … everyone knows that!”

Sanjay was just as confused. One of the most basic tenets of the Word of Gal was that even wild genesis plants such as this one must never be harvested. They were the means by which Gal had created Eos, and touching them without the supervision of a deacon during the spring and autumn solstice rituals was considered a sacrilege. Every child was taught that the first time they were taken into the forest for their first lessons in wood lore. How could this person be unaware of this?

“My apologies. I…” The stranger stopped. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I'm Nathan.”

This was a common enough name among islanders. In Galian lore, it was said to have belonged to the archangel who beseeched Gal to carry the Chosen Children from Erf to the new world. Yet Sanjay noticed that he didn't mention a family name, as well.

“Sanjay Arkwright,” he replied and gave a formal bow, clasping his fores together as he bent forward from his knees.

“I know.” When Nathan returned the bow, it was in a peculiar fashion: stiff-legged and from the waist, fores still hidden by his cloak. “I've wanted to meet you ever since your mother told me about you. In fact, you're the very reason we're here.”

“I am?”

“We don't have time to discuss this,” Aara said. “Calliope will be coming up soon. We need to be away before we can be spotted from town.” She pointed to the nearby boat. “Hurry, please.”

They followed her to the beach, where a man about Aara's age was already raising the catamaran's sail. As they walked toward the boat, Sanjay noticed that Nathan remained upright, apparently preferring to walk on his hinds even though the others dropped to all fours. His gait was also slow, as if each step was an effort. Was he crippled? Perhaps, but if so, why risk undertaking a sea journey?

Sanjay tried to put all this aside as he helped his mother and Kaile stow the belly packs they'd brought with them, and then he helped the captain push the boat out into the water. He could now see the reason the boat had been able to travel across the channel without being detected. Its wooden hull, mast, benches, and oars were painted black, and even the sails had been dyed the same way. Against the dark waters of the bay at night, the craft would have been very hard to spot.

He wondered if the inhabitants of Purgatory had ever crossed the channel before, using that very same boat. Perhaps. There were rumors that exiles had sometimes returned to Providence for one nefarious reason or another; every so often, a relative or close friend who'd been left behind had disappeared for no accountable reason. But maybe …

“All right, everyone settled in?” The captain, who'd given his name as Teri Collins, glanced around from his seat at the tiller.

Sanjay and Kaile had taken seats amidships, while Aara and Nathan sat in the bow—Nathan awkwardly, hunched slightly forward with his hinds stretched out straight before him, still covered by the long folds of his cloak.

“Very well, then,” Nathan said as he used an oar to push away from the shore. “Sanjay, raise sail, please.”

Sanjay turned around to grasp the line dangling from the mast and pulled it down, unfurling the black sail. The tide was beginning to go out, and the morning breeze was starting to come in; the sail bellowed outward, and the boat quietly slipped away, its outrigger skimming the water surface.

“We need to be silent now,” Aara whispered, bending forward to speak to Sanjay and Kaile. “No talking, no movement, until we're well past the reefs. Understood?”

Sanjay nodded, as did Kaile. It was still dark, and Calliope hadn't yet risen. If they were lucky, no one in Childstown would see a boat heading out into the bay. Nonetheless, he hoped that Johan was asleep in the tower.

As the boat entered the bay, though, and the town came within sight, no lights appeared within its windows, and there was no gong of the warning bell. Childstown remained peaceful, unknowing of the intrusion that had happened during the night. Teri must have sailed these waters before, because he accurately steered the boat through the break in the reefs that lay a couple of kilms offshore. The hull sliced through the glowing nightjewels and scattered the curious knifefish who'd ventured close to the boat. High above, Gal observed their passage with an unblinking and omnipresent eye.

Looking up at her, Sanjay hoped that Gal would forgive her children for their transgressions. Providence had become a long, black shape gradually receding behind them, its inland mountain range rising as three low humps. He'd rarely been that far out on the channel, and only then in the light of day. The sea was a dangerous place to be at night.

He prayed that the monarchs wouldn't notice them.

His prayers went unanswered.

 

6

“Monarch,” Teri said. “Off starboard bow.”

He spoke calmly, yet there was no missing the urgency of his tone. Sanjay turned to look. At first he saw nothing; the sea and the night both were still dark. Then, about three hundred rods from the boat, he caught sight of a dorsal fin, light gray and shaped like the tip of a knife, jutting upward from the dark water. It was running parallel to them, neither approaching nor moving away, as if the massive form to which it belonged was swimming along with the catamaran. Tracking, observing, waiting for the moment to strike.