Luminary (13 page)
Berk’s mouth is at my ear, his breath warming my neck, my heart, softening my resolve. “Of course I’m thinking with my heart. You have my heart.”
I want to stay, to forget what we have planned. But I cannot. I will not allow Berk to keep me from doing what must be done. I cannot leave New Hope exposed, cannot allow any more damage to be done here. I pull myself from his embrace. I will my heart to turn back to ice, rebuild the wall between him and me.
He will not understand, but it is for the best. This is bigger than us, more important.
“Then I give it back to you, Berk. I don’t want your heart.” I don’t want to look at him, don’t want to watch his face drop, his eyes cloud over with pain. But I cannot bring myself to look away. Not when this might be the last time I see his face. “Give it to someone who won’t hurt it. Because I cannot make that promise.”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. I turn away from Berk and run as fast and as far as I can.
C
arey was able to fix the transport, so I am flying to Athens, not walking. I should be rehearsing my story as I go, but my mind will not focus. I think of the village I left behind. Of John and Rhen.
I refuse to let myself think of Berk. Of him looking at me, of the hurt in his eyes. Of me turning away, not speaking. I know it was best. I do not know how long I will be gone, what will happen to me. Berk deserves more than what I can give him. But knowing I made the right decision does not make it any less painful.
I think of the land that stretches out green and beautiful,
then turns suddenly brown and dead. No life, no growth. Not the ashy gray I saw coming down here, but lifeless just the same. I think of where I am going and what I am to do.
John told me the story of two spies who were sent into an enemy’s land. A woman named Rahab hid them and lied for them, and eventually the spies escaped, with Rahab, and the enemy’s city was captured by those who worshipped the Designer.
Lying is wrong. Yet here I am, again preparing to lie to others. Last time, I lied about a surgery Dr. Loudin performed. Pretended my memory was erased so my life would be spared. I felt the same struggle then that I do now. But now, a whole village is depending on me.
I know the Designer is leading me into this valley of the shadow of death. But is he asking me to lie, the way the spies asked Rahab to lie? Or am I doing it because I think it’s the only way? And what if I don’t lie? What if I tell them the truth—I am from the State, my friends are in New Hope, and we want peace? But if they are the type of people Peter and Diana say they are, then that admission could cause greater harm to befall my friends in New Hope.
I am so conflicted. I want to do what is right. And the others have advised me that in this case, lying about my true motives is best for everyone involved. But isn’t there some way to be honest and still protect the village?
I don’t have any more time to think. On the horizon, I see a fortress. Athens.
The wall isn’t what I expected. It is not made from the trees the homes in New Hope are made of. It looks man-made but solid. It is black and it is tall. Very tall. The land here is much
flatter than New Hope, so I can see the whole shape—a large square. Because I am on the transport, I can see inside the structure. There are many homes, all square, all black. They are evenly spaced apart. This village was created after the War, not rebuilt from homes that survived, like New Hope. The whole layout is far too organized for it to have been from the previous era.
There are very few plots of green land. Unlike New Hope, which is mostly green with relatively few houses among it. There is a fenced-in area where the cows that I assume were stolen from New Hope reside. Smoke rises from several facilities, but not like the smoke that came out of the house in New Hope. This is controlled smoke. It is dark, almost black, and smells of chemicals. As I get closer I see part of the wall open and someone ride out on a horse. The rider is coming toward me, waving me down.
I ease the transport to the ground and step off. I wave a greeting. I do not want to show fear. I should show relief—after traveling for so long, I have finally found life. I repeat the words of the psalm John gave me as I walk forward.
His face covered by a black fabric, the rider has stopped, but he is still on his horse. When he speaks, his voice is slightly muffled. “Where are you from?”
“I escaped the State.”
The rider pulls the fabric off his face. His hair is long, almost to his shoulders, and is a light color—almost as blond as Rhen’s. It curls, though, unlike Rhen’s straight hair. His face is tan, and as he steps closer, I see that his eyes are a light blue. The color of the sky in the morning. He is young. Not much older than I am, but he carries himself like one with authority.
“No one has escaped the State in almost forty years.” His eyes narrow.
“How do you know?”
“How do I know you are from the State?”
The rider is just a few feet from me now. He has stopped moving, but his eyes drill into mine. I force myself to return his gaze. I will not be intimidated. “I travel hundreds of miles to be free from tyrannical rule, and this is what I find? If you will not accept me, please direct me to a place that will.”
The rider’s mouth relaxes slightly. He might be smiling, but his gaze is still so severe, I am not sure. “I am Alex. Prince of Athens. I apologize for the welcome. But we have to be careful.”
“I am Thalli, Alex.” I nod toward him, this prince, and try not to reveal my distrust. This is the king’s son—the king who killed Peter and Diana’s family. But it is Helen’s brother. Who is he more like?
“Why did you escape the State?”
“The Scientists wanted to kill me.”
Alex laughs, but it is not a pleasant sound. “And why would they want to kill someone as pretty as you?” He steps closer. I can see dark eyelashes framing his sky-blue eyes and light eyebrows raised slightly as he appraises me.
“I am too emotional.”
“Too emotional?” Alex’s eyebrows rise more. “That is a crime worthy of death in the State, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone in the State has an occupation, correct?” His face relaxes, but his gaze is still trained on me.
I am surprised at this change of topic, but I remain calm, answering him in the same tone. “Correct.”
“And what was yours?”
“I was the pod Musician.”
“Musician?” Alex places his hands on his hips. “I was hoping you’d be an expert in something a little more useful.”
“Music aids everyone in being more productive.” I step forward. “It increases brain activity and potential. It provides a tranquil atmosphere. Music is incredibly useful for any civilized society.”
Alex laughs again. “I see why they found you to be too emotional.”
I step back again. I need to control myself. I also need to be useful to him. I think back on what Peter and Diana said. “I studied with the Scientists, though. I spent significant time in their quarters, working with them on new developments.” Does
not
telling the whole truth count as a lie?
“That sounds very interesting.”
“I would be happy to tell you all about it.”
“In exchange for what?” Alex’s blue eyes have yet to leave mine. I try to maintain the stare, maintain my story, and maintain my composure, but I am finding it increasingly difficult.
“I would like to be part of your village.”
“We are not a village.” Alex’s eyes harden. “We are Athens.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend.”
“I believe you.” He responds like a Scientist. Perhaps royalty and Scientists are the same thing in Athens. “Come with me. My father will, no doubt, wish to learn more about the State.”
“Of course.”
Alex’s gaze lands on the transport. Curiosity replaces the haughtiness in his eyes.
“Would you like to ride with me?”
I think I see a bit of fear on Alex’s face, but it is quickly masked. “I need to return with my horse. Perhaps another time, though.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Prince Alex is afraid of my transport. He climbs back on his horse and points it toward the towering walls of Athens.
I have arrived.
M
y father was a history professor.” King Jason’s voice is deep, like a tuba. I barely hear what he is saying, I am so enthralled by the tone of his voice. “A leading scholar on ancient Greece. When the War destroyed everything, he thought ours was the only surviving village. He gathered the leaders together and insisted we start over, create here a new Athens. A world power. He was chosen to be king and established the laws of our land. When he died, I replaced him.”
I vaguely recall reading about this ancient Greece, about monarchies and such, but I dare not make him aware of how little I comprehend. “This is a beautiful state.”
“We have worked hard to make it so.” The king’s bass voice echoes through the large room. “We have striven to create new technologies, not to re-create the old. We hope to one day join with the State below. Perhaps you can aid us in that.”
My heartbeat quickens. My greatest fear is being returned to the State. “I am a fugitive from the State.”
“They wanted to kill her because she was too emotional.” Alex stands beside his father. He is smiling as he speaks.
“Too emotional?” The king’s smile is like his son’s, though his eyes aren’t as light a blue as Alex’s. His hair, though, is a darker blond, cut short, and receding. “We here in Athens embrace emotions. We do not fear them. Right, son?”
“Certainly, Father.” Some unspoken idea passes between them before the king continues.
“We do not want to overwhelm you on your first day here.” The king motions to Alex. “Take Thalli to our guest room. After you’ve a good night’s rest, Alex will show you around our fair city.”
“I would very much like to see it now, if that’s all right.” The thought of going to sleep is impossible.
“As you wish.” The king passes another unspoken message along to his son. “Show her around, Alex. The grand tour. It isn’t often we have a visitor from the State.”
Alex opens the door out of what he calls the “grand hall.” I am glad to be out. This palace is overly ornate—though the outside of all the buildings is black, inside there are more colors than would be necessary in twenty houses. Gold seems to be a favorite, in the grand hall especially. There are columns in gold, paintings framed in gold, and the whole chair where the king sat was of gold. Not actual gold, I am sure.
That element couldn’t be found here in that abundance. But the citizens obviously found a way to reproduce it in a paint or a covering.
“We live in the palace,” Alex says as he leads me up a staircase with a rail covered in—what else?—gold. “My father, my sister, and me.”
I want to meet Helen, to ask about her. To tell her Peter is all right. But I am not supposed to know anything about her. I have to maintain my story as a fugitive arriving from the State. A fugitive who knows no one in and nothing about New Hope. “And your mother?”
Alex slows down for a moment but then moves on. “She died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” I wait to see if he will elaborate, but he does not.
We reach the top of the stairs, and it leads down a hallway with three doors on each side. “These are the bedrooms. My father has his own suite one floor above, but my sister and I both sleep here. I’m the last room on the right. Helen is across from me. You will stay here, in this first room.”
Alex opens the door and I look in. The room is very large and colorful. Red seems to be the color of choice in here, with the bed covering, the window coverings, and the floor coverings all in the same scarlet shade. But the fabric is different. I walk to the window and touch it. It is soft, but not like the material used in New Hope and certainly not what we had in the State. “What is this?”
“Do you like it?” Alex is behind me. Closer than I would like. If I turn, we would almost be touching. He smells nice, a different sort of smell than anything I’ve encountered before. He reaches past my shoulder to touch the fabric, grazing my
arm with his. “We develop that material here. It is synthetic silk. I’ll show you the factory later.”
“That would be wonderful.”
Alex finally moves away, and I rush out of the room. His nearness is disconcerting. His kindness is baffling. What did his father say to Alex to make him so attentive? What were the unspoken messages being sent? I expected to be an oddity, coming from the State. And I knew they would want to know more about what is going on there. But they aren’t asking me questions. Alex is giving me a tour and standing close. The king remains in his chamber. Of all the scenarios I imagined, this was not one of them.
I look to my right. There is another set of stairs at the end of the hallway, leading up to the king’s suite or down into the kitchen. We go down. As we descend, something smells wonderful. My stomach growls as soon as we reach the last step.
“Would you like some lunch?” Alex snaps his fingers and a woman stirring a pot at a cooking appliance quickly turns. Her eyes look almost empty.
“Yes, Prince Alex? What can I do for you?”
“My guest is hungry.”
The woman lowers her head and opens a door that leads to a storage room. She comes out with a plate, silverware, and a cup. She fills the plate with the contents of the pot she was stirring. She walks with it into an adjoining room. Alex follows her in and seats me at a long table. It is gold and filled with bowls of fruit and candles, and covered with a cloth made out of the same material I saw in the bedroom. The plate is decorated all along the edges. I touch the designs. I have never seen anything like it.
“We make those too.” Alex smiles as the woman places a drink in front of me. The cup has a design that mirrors that of the plate.
“Beautiful.”
“What do you use in the State?”
Now
he asks questions. I want to begin eating—the food smells delicious, even though I have no idea what is in it—but I explain how everything in the State is white. The food is genetically engineered to provide us with the nutrients we need.
