Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (26 page)

“You’re here. Good,” she says it briskly, and hands me the tablet.

I look at it, briefly. It only takes a moment. The message is short, coldly impersonal. Impossible.

“I don’t understand.” I glance between Berg and Mistress, waiting for one to laugh, to let me share in the joke. I don’t understand what they are saying. Or not saying.

“Read it,” she says.

“No,” I snap, jerking to my feet.

“Sabah,” Berg says, softly, reaching for me. I shy away, glaring, and he lets his hands drop. “We don’t have a choice, Sabah.”

“We always have a choice,” I snarl.

“You’re right, darling,” Mistress says. Her voice so sharp I wonder that I am not bleeding. “But you made yours. You gave the ban-wolves their cure. And in exchange, you go to Mlena.”

“You said we were being given more time,” I protest.

“Yes, well. I’m sorry. This,” she waves at the tablet and its damn message, “is out of my control.”

I’m not ready. I can’t leave the Manor yet. I throw a pleading look at Berg but he ignores me. He’s pale, staring at the floor.

“Sabah, I’m sorry,” Mistress says.

“Are you coming with us?” I ask, my voice choked. I know the answer—she can’t. But the small child in me wants desperately for her to. I glance at the message again, the one damning word:
quarantine.

Plague is uncommon—one sweeps through the land every few decades or so. Most come from the roving tribes, and enter the Cities with them. Almost a century ago, a tribe managed to infect an entire City, killing more than half the population. Since then, the Commission has been rigorous in enforcing quarantines.

The Mistress shakes her head. “I can’t, Sabah. They won’t let me. But your sponsor will be waiting, when you get there.”

“How long do I have?” I’m already thinking, my mind racing. I can still say goodbye. I
have
to say goodbye.

“None,” Berg whispers. “We have to go now.”

I flinch, tears burning in my eyes. I want desperately to give in to them. I want one more time, sitting under my pine, pretending that Arjun will appear from the blackness around me. I want—so many things, so much that I will never have. But there is one thing that I
won’t
leave behind.

“I have to get my shoes,” I say, faintly. Berg nods.

“Meet us downstairs,” Mistress orders.

In my room, I slip the note from under my pillow. It’s dangerous to smuggle anything into the City. I know that, but I also know I have no choice. I can’t leave this here. I tuck it into the strap of my tunic, and pray I will not be searched.

I shove my feet into the first pair of shoes I can find, and stand, looking around at the room I grew up in. It hurts to leave it. Especially with no goodbye.

But I will come back. Closing the City does not mean it will be closed forever—I
will
come back to the Manor. The thought is reassuring, even if the reassurance is minute.

Berg is waiting, the Mistress talking to him in a low, intent voice. There is a bag—from the square bulky shape of it, I would say it is filled with books.

Gwen is staring at the Keepers who fill the doorway of the kitchen. Their leader is tall, imposing, his face a patchwork of mismatched skin, sitting in a strange hoverchair. There is a gleam in his eyes that makes me nervous and I inch closer to Berg.

“Are you ready, then?” he asks, his eyes tracking my movements. Berg glances at me and I nod.

“Remember, trust your sponsor. He is there to help you. I will come see you as soon as the quarantine is lifted.” Mistress’ voice is bright, false. Gwen pales at the word quarantine, and I hope that she is a good enough medic to face the coming threat.

I hope the threat is just the imagination of an overly cautious Commission.

“There’s a plague,” I say quickly, staring at Gwen. “It’s coming from the west. Keep the children safe.”

The Keeper motions, and one of his soldiers shoves me against the wall, a hand at my throat, bruisingly hard. “That is classified information, girl.”

I wheeze, blinking spots from my eyes. Berg is shouting, the Mistress’ cool voice is furious. But Gwen steps forward, a thin scalpel clutched in her hand. She swings wildly, and blood wells on the Keeper’s hands, spraying my face. I clench my eyes as the man howls and drops me.

“Silence.”

It’s the Captain, and the entire room goes still and quiet at the leashed menace in his voice. I blink, rub blood from my eyes. He’s watching Gwen, who looks shaky but resolute. “You could hang for attacking a Keeper,” the scarred captain says conversationally.

“He would have killed her,” Gwen spits, unrepentant. “I’ve taken care of every fever, cut and bruise on her body for ten years.”

“Rogers, Clemms. Teach the med-tech her place.” The captain says, bored.

The two soldiers step forward, and I open my mouth to protest. I scramble toward her, and Berg catches me, pulling me to him. The captain’s dark eyes flick to me. “Get on board. Now.”

“Go to hell,” I snarl.

Berg clamps a hand over my mouth, dragging me with him. “I’m sorry, sir. She’s going.”

The door swings shut as one of the Keepers lifts Gwen and the other begins punching her.

**

I am not sure how things move this fast. It seems like only minutes ago that I sat on my bed, thinking. And now, we’re sitting still. In the back of a hovertransport. Going to Mlena and a life I do not want. I can’t help but think about Gwen, about the sick sound of the Keeper’s fist colliding with her stomach.

“What will happen when we reach the City?” I ask Berg.

“I don’t know,” he admits, and some small part of me is pleased by this. He leans forward, to get the Keeper’s attention. “Are we the last Citizens to enter the City?”

“A few Keepers are still being recalled—but yes.” He glances at us, disgust filling his eyes. “And if your sponsor wasn’t so influential, you’d be Outside throughout the quarantine.”

Berg sits back, and I lean over to whisper in his ear. “Will you hold something for me, without questions?”

He looks at me, startled, but nods immediately. It surprises me, but I don’t question my good fortune—I slip the note out of my tunic and into his bag, deep within the old books that no one will think to search.

His lips brush my ear as he asks, “When was the last plague?”

The word alone is enough to make me feel nauseous. Years. Since before we came to the Manor. I shake my head, and try not to think about the casualties of the last plague—and the family I have just deserted.

Now that we are on our way, I am curiously calm. Almost detached. I know that by now, Kaida and the others are learning about our rapid departure. I wonder if Mistress will tell them why—what prompted it. It doesn’t matter, if she doesn’t.

Gwen will.

If she’s still alive

I lean my head against Berg and close my eyes, letting my mind go blank. For a while, there is no noise but the hum of the engines, and Berg’s breathing, and the soft clatter of equipment when the Keeper moves.

Berg’s arm is around me, supporting me. His head leans against mine. I feel guilty, for finding his embrace so comfortable. Almost as if I am betraying Arjun. But there is nothing sexual, nothing romantic, about the gesture. In this moment, we are reduced to the single strongest element of our relationship: friendship, bound by trust and need.

The hovertransport slows, the engines shifting. Berg moves next to me at the same time the Keeper twists to look back at us.

“We’ll need your creds,” he says briskly.

Berg has them, tucked into an inside pocket of his bag. I watch as he hands them over. The Keeper turns away, talking to someone through a comm.

Then I feel a slight electric pulse, the hum of energy flowing off the Gate. I shudder at the full body sensation—it’s weaker, inside a hover, than it would be if I were going through it on foot. I still hate it.

The Keeper is up and moving almost before the feeling has faded. The hovertransport gives a rumble as it settles on the landing pad, and I look at Berg.

He smiles, a mischievous grin that tells me more clearly than words, whatever is out there, we’ll face it together.

“Get moving,” the Keeper growls from the door, and I glare at him. He seems taken aback by my animosity—or maybe my lack of fear.

When you have lived among the pack for over a month, aggressive Keepers are hardly worth the time it takes to consider them.

I do not know what I expect, when I step out of the hovertransport. I haven’t been to Mlena often. In the past, it has always been busy—a flurry of intent Citizens going about their daily lives. Brightly dressed, absorbed in their routine, scurrying about like brilliantly colored insects in a self-contained hive.

But it was all benign. Safe. The Keepers who patrolled the City did so in pairs, all but unarmed. There was nothing to protect the Citizens from, within the City. If nothing else, the Commission could boast that their Cities were safe.

But this is different—the streets are brilliantly lit, too bright for the hour. And they are disturbingly empty.

A squad of Keepers jogs by, guns rattling against protective armor.

One Citizen is waiting in the brightness, in somber black. His gray eyes brighten when he sees us, and I stop, so suddenly Berg jerks at my arm before he realizes I’m not following him.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

Wrenfel Lark smiles a familiar, benevolent smile that sets my teeth on edge. I look at Berg. He looks just as confused as I am. But he shifts his bag of books, and extends a hand. "You must be our sponsor."

"
Her
sponsor, old boy," Wrenfel says, pointing at me. He gives me a smile that should be charming. It makes me bare my teeth in response—nothing that could ever be construed as a smile, but it seems to please Wrenfel. "I want the girl. You’re just Kathleen's added baggage." I shiver, taking an involuntary step back. Something is not right, in those words.

Berg's face is white, his eyes narrowing. "The
girl
, as you put it," he spits, "is my Insurance and here because I insisted."

Wrenfel blinks at him, and then looks at me. "Is he always this prickly?"

I slip my hand into Berg's and he relaxes. Wrenfel catches the gesture, and he nods, almost to himself. His smile never falters, a warmth so false it makes my teeth clench. He turns away, addressing the chair-bound Keeper.

"Teegan, did you need anything else?"

The name triggers a memory, a story told to me in the darkness of a cave, in an empty, remote voice. I look at the Keeper, and again I notice the broken features, the patchwork of skin that does not quite match, the off-set tilt to his nose and jaw.

Something very primal in me almost purrs at the lasting testament to Arjun's anger.

"They will both need to go through the med-tech’s screening," the Keeper is saying, and his eyes dart to me, as if feeling my gaze on him. Something in my eyes makes him nervous, and he shifts, uncomfortable.

"Of course, of course. I have a waiver—they’ll go tomorrow," Wrenfel says, waving away his words irritably. "But for now? Do you need them to do anything right this minute?"

Teegan shakes his head, and Wrenfel smiles, triumphant. "Excellent. Thank you so much for your time, and bringing my lovelies to the City.” He wraps a hand around my elbow, using it to steer me away. "Berg," Wrenfel calls over his shoulder, already towing me halfway down the street, "keep up."

The City streets are deserted. A child in rags darts through the too-bright streets, her haunted eyes on the ground as she scurries to another patch of darkness.

A
Gutterling
.

Wrenfel is chattering, pointing out various businesses and shops, a store where he promises I will find a dress in every hue and color. As if I need a dress in every hue and color. I roll my eyes, and keep my mouth shut.

"What about the University?" Berg asks from behind us. I tug my arm out of Wrenfel's grasp, and wait for Berg to catch us.

"The University is on the other side of the City," Wrenfel says, without breaking stride. "We have quite a bit to do before you need to worry about that."

I lose track of how many turns we take, how many shops we pass. They are all a blur of darkened windows, cafes and restaurants and diners. Is there anything else to occupy the Citizens, besides eating?

I am absorbed in thought when I realize Berg and Wrenfel have come to a halt. I look up, and stare at the imposing house. It is a townhouse, tall and narrow, sitting side-by-side with others so similar to it, it's eerie. The color is different than the ones that flank it, though. It is a grayish blue, the color of graylight. It's dim and understated between the bright yellow and vivid orange on either side.

Maybe that is what makes it look so very dignified.

"Well, don't just stand there," Wrenfel says irritably. "Curfew is in effect."

His words prod both Berg and me into action. We climb the steps to the tall blue door quickly, and I scoot past Wrenfel to stand in a dark hallway.

I look at him, confused. "Is this for just us?"

Wrenfel seems amused. "You’re a Citizen, darling. You hardly need to share your home.” Wrenfel sits in the living room, and without a word, Berg and I go to sit across from him.

"So," he says, adjusting his outer jacket fastidiously, "Berg, you'll be attending the University. We'll need to go down there soon and arrange your schedule and let you meet your mentor. He'll act in a sponsor capacity, although only in matters of academia." He glances at me. "As for you, Sabah." I stiffen, unwilling to have my life dictated by this odious little Citizen. "You are a woman. Therefore, any Quota given to you or Berg will fall on you to ultimately fulfil,” he says.

Panic claws at me. I don't want a Quota. I never agreed to that. I'm not ready to take on the life of another--and I would sooner die than let the Commission put one of my children Outside.

I make a noise of protest, and Wrenfel smiles, one of those benign smiles that are suppose to put me at ease. "We'll need to wait for your tests to come back, of course. It may prove you infertile."