Of Sea and Stone (Secrets of Itlantis) (10 page)

One day, as I was reading from the device, the door opened. I switched it off and snatched my hand back before dropping to my knees and fumbling for the rag and scrubbing pail just as Nol stepped inside.

He stopped, gazing at me with fire in his eyes, his gaze knowing.

My stomach shivered.

Had he seen what I’d been doing?

Merelus followed through the door behind Nol.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I don’t want to disturb your cleaning. Are you almost finished?”

“Almost, sir,” I said. I ran the rag over a spot on the floor, keeping my eyes pointed at his feet. Inside my chest, my heart was galloping and my breath felt squeezed out of my lungs. He’d almost seen me touching that thing on his desk, a thing that was undoubtedly expensive and important.

I sneaked another glance at Nol.

I hadn’t seen much of him in the few weeks of our enslavement here in Celestrus. The master had been keeping him busy. Our gazes met for a moment, and Nol’s eyes burned into mine with the heat of live embers. I slid my gaze from his to the master again, discomfort creeping across my skin.

“Shall I go, sir?” I asked, my voice rasping in the stillness.

“What?” Merelus glanced up from the book he was perusing, his expression remote as he focused on me. “Oh no, no. Carry on. We won’t bother you. You’re almost done anyway.”

I kept scrubbing as a tense silence settled in the room. Merelus turned the pages of the book, muttering under his breath while Nol stood at attention in the doorway. Not wanting to look up again, I scoured the spot where I crouched until the metal sparkled.

Still muttering, Merelus snapped the book shut and went to the door of his inner study. Producing the key, he unlocked it and stepped inside, leaving Nol and me alone in the outer study.

“That floor is probably clean as a dinner plate now,” Nol said.

The break in the silence startled me. I hadn’t expected him to speak to me. I stopped scrubbing and lifted my head.

Nol stood with his chin high and his hands curled into fists at his sides. His hair gleamed almost golden in the dim light of the study, and I had a flash of a memory of him in the old days before our capture, when he was still the mayor’s second son. My lips curved in half a smile at his joke, not because of him but because of what I saw when I looked at him. I saw our old life, our old village, and Kit. But Nol was a part of the picture too, and so he got my smile.

It was the first time in my life I’d ever given him a smile.

He stared at me, making my stomach somersault. “I hear you’ve been taking trips with the master’s daughter.”

A flush crept up my neck as dread sunk its claws in me, and my stomach turned heavy as a stone. “Why don’t you attend to your job and let me attend to mine?” My voice was perhaps a little too sharp.

He smiled, and it was brittle.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said.

The door behind me clanged. Merelus was back, another book in his hand and his nose half-buried in it. “Let’s go,” he said absently, without glancing up.

I watched Nol as he straightened, lifting his burning gaze from me to the master.

“Yes, sir.”

They left, the door snapped shut behind them, and I was alone with my thoughts.

~ ~ ~

After that, I seemed to run into Nol everywhere. It was as if he were watching me. Waiting for me to do something, to reveal my hand, to make a mistake. It infuriated me.

One day, as I was hurrying to Lyssia’s room, I turned the corner and collided with his chest. His hands shot out and grabbed my shoulders to steady me before he even realized who had run into him. Heat seared through me. As soon as he glimpsed my face, he let go as if I were a firebrand.

“Watch out,” he snapped, but he sounded more startled than angry.

“You shouldn’t stand in the middle of the hall,” I shot back, also more startled than angry. I felt shaken, exposed. His eyes flicked up and down me, lingering on my face, and he leaned forward as if to ask me something in a whisper. A sudden and inexplicable nervousness pooled in my stomach.

“Nol,” someone called from a room off the hall, and I took the opportunity to dart past him for the lift.

I met Lyssia in her room. She was distraught.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concern filling my chest. I ignored the nagging thought in my head that demanded to know why I was so concerned.

“It’s my lessons,” she muttered, tugging at her hair. “I don’t understand any of them. I’m a terrible student. I just—well, my father wants me to be like him. Smart. Scholarly. And I’m not.”

I studied her red eyes and quivering mouth, and something in me clenched tight.

“Maybe I can help you,” I blurted, before I could think better of it.

She sniffled. “You?” Then her eyes widened. “I mean, I don’t mean that you’re stupid. It’s just that Indentureds don’t usually come from educated backgrounds. I mean, well, they aren’t—they aren’t supposed to have access to education once they’re sentenced to be Indentured. You have to be a free citizen to attend school, but...” She stopped. “How can you help?”

“I’m clever,” I said. “I’m good with lessons. I always have been. Let me read them. I can explain them to you. I can help you. Just let me try.”

She wiped her eyes and nodded. “All right. I’ll let you try. It’s worth that, at least. He promised me I could go to the Festival of Lights in the gardens with an escort if I improved. He thinks I won’t. And I want to so desperately.”

“Then you will,” I said firmly.

I HELPED LYSSIA every day, between chores. It was easy to find an excuse to visit her room—she’d rung for food, she’d spilled something, she wanted help fixing her hair. Once there, we’d pour over her books and papers together. The lessons were easy, surprisingly so. I found myself enjoying the sessions.

Crakea found me one evening as I was washing the floors of Lyssia’s room as part of the ruse of being there.

“Come,” she said. “We’re short a server for dinner thanks to his being sick with a fever, and I need someone to help me attend the meal. You’ll have to do.”

I followed her mutely to the lift. I’d never been in the main dining room. Curiosity made the prospect of waiting tables less distasteful.

When we reached the kitchen level, Crakea shoved a pair of soft gray trousers and a tunic at me. “Wear these.”

I put them on in a utility closet and then accompanied her to the kitchen. Steam filled the air, along with a mouthwatering aroma. Lobsters and crabs cooked in giant pots. Pastries lay on a metal table, waiting to be carried to the dining hall on platters.

“Keep your hands steady when you serve,” Crakea snapped. “Take care that you don’t spill on anyone when you’re pouring the cream over the crab soup. And serve them in order of rank—the master first, then his guest, then his daughter, then his head steward. Don’t make any noise or call any attention to yourself. You are to be silent, invisible. If you make a mistake, you’ll be scrubbing floors tonight while the rest of us sleep.”

I ignored her threats and balanced the platter on my arm. I’d been serving food for years. I wasn’t worried.

A short hall connected the kitchen and the dining room. The hall was narrow and dark, and I had to turn sideways to fit through the door.

The dining room took my breath away.

The walls and ceiling were made entirely of rounded glass, letting in the soft blue light of the sea. Columns of twisting metal stretched up the walls and met over the table like the clasp of hands in friendship, and between their tendrils, orange lights glowed and mingled with the blue light of the ocean. A round table larger than Lyssia’s bed filled the room. Merelus sat at the far end, his face in shadow. Nol stood in the shadows behind Merelus’s shoulder, standing at attention, and Lyssia lounged at the opposite end of the table. The man I’d seen in the hall my first day at the house, the one with brown hair who’d confronted me about being lost, was seated between Merelus and Lyssia. As I entered the room, he leaned over and said something to Lyssia, and she giggled.

This must be Dahn, I supposed. He raised his eyes to mine as I passed him, and I had the feeling he recognized me just as I recognized him.

Most people never remembered servants because they were of no importance. The fact that this man did meant he was observant, and observant masters were people to be avoided. I made note of it should I ever be assigned cleaning duty for his rooms.

The head steward sat across from Dahn. He wore a plain gray tunic, but he held his shoulders straight and kept his chin high as if he could earn respect by the height of his nose in the air. He gave me a cursory look, and his mouth curled down as if he expected me to trip and upend the platter I carried.

I served Merelus first, then Dahn. Lyssia caught my eye and jerked her head toward Dahn. She wiggled her eyebrows and winked.

“Lyssia, do stop that,” Merelus said as I was serving the steward. I bit my lip to stifle a smile. A sharp-eyed one, the master was, despite his reputation for absent-mindedness.

Lyssia picked up her drink with a sigh and played with the rim. “Yes, Father.”

“I’ve heard from your teacher,” Merelus said. “He says you’ve been making unusually good marks lately. Exquisite, I daresay.”

Her finger froze on the glass.

I stiffened next to the steward, the platter quivering at a slant. One of the pastries wobbled at the edge of the platter. Would Lyssia mention me? Would Merelus be angry that I was helping her with her studies?

“You said if I made good enough marks, I could go to the Festival of Lights celebration in the gardens next month with an escort instead of the one in the commons with you, didn’t you?”

Merelus leaned back in his chair and studied her. “Yes.”

“It’s amazing what one can do with the proper motivation,” Lyssia said. She took a sip of her drink and gave Dahn a flirtatious smile.

I relaxed in relief that she hadn’t blurted out that I was helping her. As I straightened, the pastry toppled from the platter and plopped into the steward’s lap with a splatter of cream. Flecks of white landed on his face and shirt.

“Sunlight and air,” he shouted. “Be careful, girl!”

“I’m sorry.” I snatched up a napkin and dabbed at his trousers. “I’m sorry—”

“You will be reprimanded!”

“It’s just a bit of cream,” Merelus said, impatient with the steward’s fussing. “Here’s my napkin.”

Was that my imagination, or was Nol smirking? Laughing at my mistake and subsequent scolding?

I despised him.

“Get out of here before you make more of a mess,” the steward said.

Shaken, I retreated to the kitchen.

~ ~ ~

“Mistress Lyssia rang for you,” Mella reported later as I scrubbed the kitchen floor.

I blew hair out of my eyes and surveyed the remaining floor to be cleaned. I decided to see what Lyssia wanted first. If Crakea didn’t like it, she could take it up with Lyssia.

“Aemi!” Lyssia wailed as soon as I entered the room. “I’m in terrible trouble!”

“Why?”

She flew at me and threw her arms around me. I froze at the contact, but she didn’t let go. Reluctantly, I patted her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s an exam tomorrow. A written one, with no information about what to study. I’m going to do horribly, and I won’t be able to go to the Lighting. My father has told me that if I don’t continue to improve, I won’t be able to go anywhere. Then how will our plan to keep Dahn here work?”

“You won’t even be able to visit the gardens?” My stomach dropped.

“Not even the gardens,” she said. “But...I had an idea.”

I pushed her back so I could see her face. She was half-smiling in a hopeful way, her eyes lit with a calculating expression.

In that moment, she seemed like a little sister, and I felt a surge of apprehension and exasperation.

“What?” I demanded. “What are you planning?”

“We’re about the same size,” she said. “You’re a little taller and thinner, but you could easily pass for me if you wore a scarf over your head and—”

“You want me to impersonate you?”

She nodded.

“No.”

“Aemi, please. Think about it. You’d be so good at the exam. You’re so smart.”

My mind worked over the possibilities. If she didn’t do well, I might not be able to escape.

“Please, Aemi. Please!”

I sighed. “What will I have to do?”

I ADJUSTED THE scarf covering my hair and smoothed both palms down the dress of tiered blue cloth that covered my body. Lyssia’s clothing felt like warm lagoon water against my skin, and a necklace of gold-dipped shells lay cool and heavy against my collarbone. A thick band of gold clinked on my left wrist—a gift from her father, she said—and a pair of silk slippers cushioned my feet. Everything was a soft shade of blue or gold.

Lyssia squinted at me. “Hold your shoulders up higher—that’s right—and be sure to fiddle with your hair at intervals. I do it all the time and the instructor scolds me.” She bit her lip as she studied me. “Otherwise...” She smudged colored powder on my eyelids with her fingers and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You look quite convincing.”

Lyssia accompanied me up the lift and to the door. As we slipped through the halls, I caught a glimpse of golden hair as someone turned the corner to our left. Nol? Had he seen us?

My heart pounded and sweat slicked my palms.

“The school isn’t far,” Lyssia said once we’d reached the foyer. “Cross the bridge and go through the commons, following the blue pattern on the tile floors that leads to all public spaces. The school is near the gardens. If you get lost, just look for the fountains. They mark the entrance.”

Blue pattern. Gardens. Fountains. I nodded, uncertain. Fresh fear clenched my stomach, but then she was pushing me out the door, and I was on my own.

Merelus’s house clung to the outer wall, a barnacle of glass. The beauty of Celestrus glittered around me as I crossed a slender bridge wrapped in glass that stretched out like a finger through the ocean to touch another orb of the city.