Of Sea and Stone (Secrets of Itlantis) (9 page)

There were other ships too—civilian carriers called lightliners that were thin and wide, looking like tropical fish with long fins coming off their sides and blunt cockpit noses. Luxury cruisers with bloated bodies like whales. Cargo ships that crawled on the ocean floor and left tracks in the sand.

There was not as much information on the Dron in comparison. They seemed shrouded in mystery. Their battle style seemed to be based in quick strikes and quicker retreats, and they lived in the shadows, advancing out only to make decisive attacks.

A few images existed of the Dron ships—they were different from the sleek vessels of the Itlanteans. Their ships seemed ancient, covered in barnacles and rust, scarred and warped, as if salvaged from some ancient past. Only a few of them had been seen over the past decade, the device reported, and misinformation was rampant. Even the symbol for the Dron was misunderstood. Wreckage discovered in a coral reef after a battle had been misidentified as Dron, and an image of a skull and bones rumored to be their banner, but later was found to be nothing but a sunken pirate vessel from millennia ago. Similarly, stories about the appearance and actions of the Dron were muddled with embellishments—they were ten feet tall, they had fins instead of hands, they could breathe underwater without masks, they ate human flesh.

The device did not have all the answers, and often it only gave me more questions about this strange, underwater world. I pushed them all aside with great effort, though, because I had only one objective.

Escape.

According to the device, of the six cities, Verdus was closest to the surface, located in the tropical shallows near a strand of islands. My heart thumped and my hands tingled as I mulled this fact.

If it was closest to the surface, perhaps...

Perhaps I could swim out. Get to those islands. Find a way home.

I needed a map, but I wasn’t able to find any complete ones of the cities. I did discover that each city of Itlantis had a collection of six gardens in the center of the city, one to represent each city in the nation. Each garden was filled with representations of that city’s architecture, culture, and accomplishments, along with intricate maps of the cities themselves, the likes of which were unequaled in any document.

And even the Indentureds were allowed access, but only if they were accompanied by a free citizen.

I needed access to a map of Verdus.

If I wanted more information for escaping, and I couldn’t gain entrance to the libraries, its garden would be the place to go.

~ ~ ~

I began to collect information that might help me get to these gardens, starting with the master’s family.

“The master’s daughter is a bit eccentric,” Tob said as we ate stew for the third time that week in the Indentureds’ hall. “She doesn’t have many companions. There’s something about her that I like, though. She always seems like she’s about to do something crazy. It’s interesting.”

Mella gave him a reproving look.

“I didn’t say anything rude,” he said, and she shrugged in concession.

“What about this man called Dahn?” I asked.

“He’s a visitor from the capital. He got here the same day as you,” Tob said. “I don’t know how long he’s staying, or why. He knows the master from somewhere. He has a bit of a reputation for liking rich girls.”

“Is that why he’s here? For Lyssia?”

“No one really knows.”

“Does Lyssia ever go out?” I asked. “With friends, to the gardens?”

“Not much,” Mella said.

I sighed.

A plan was brewing in my head, but if I wanted it to work, I might have to make it happen myself.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, I was called from my duties to Lyssia’s room. The maid who summoned me was in a panic.

“She’s taking things apart,” she whispered as we hurried through the halls. “Crakea says maybe she’ll listen to you.”

I had a feeling Crakea hoped I’d fail.

I reached the room and stepped inside. Crakea hovered to one side, looking frazzled. Lyssia sat on the floor, a massive timepiece in front of her with the back unscrewed. Mechanical guts lay everywhere around her.

“Mistress, er, Lyssia?” I ventured.

“He’s leaving!” Lyssia yanked a coil from the timepiece and tossed it over her shoulder. She swiped at her eyes with one shoulder as she worked. “Father said he will go with us to Primus, but he will remain in the capital after the peace talks. I love him, and he is leaving. What if I never see him again?”

Go with them to Primus? Peace talks? I took a deep breath. One thing at a time.

Dahn. I tried to think of something to say.

“Mistress, that is your father’s favorite clock,” Crakea said as Lyssia continued to vent her rage at the device before her.

“I don’t care. I feel like breaking something, and I’ve always wanted to know what’s inside this thing.”

Crakea looked at the mistress in exasperation and then at me, as if to say
you fix this
.

“You haven’t known him long enough to love him,” I tried.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Lyssia bent over the clock with renewed vigor. “If he would only stay, then I would know him better!”

Something twanged inside the clock as she ripped another piece out.

Crakea’s triumphant expression mocked me. She
had
hoped I’d fail.

A plan entered my head.

“What about the young man we spoke about before?” I said. “Cal?”

“What about him?”

“I’ve heard talk that Dahn is competitive. If you make Dahn see that he has competition for your interest and attention, then maybe he’ll show more interest and give you a chance to convince him to stay.”

Her hands stilled against the clock’s innards. “It’s certainly worth a try. But I never see Cal. I don’t want to go calling on him.”

I gave Crakea a look. She glowered at me.

“You mentioned before that Cal likes the gardens. We should look for him there.”

“We?” Lyssia asked.

My heart pounded. This was the key moment. “You should take me with you,” I said, speaking more quietly now as I sank down beside her on the floor. “I can help you.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

I didn’t dare breathe. “Verdus, perhaps?”

She shrugged in acquiescence and set down the clock. “We can start there. Thank you, Aemi.” She reached out and squeezed my hand.

I exhaled.

Crakea looked as though she’d just swallowed a lobster tail.

LYSSIA WAS FUSSING over her hair when I entered her room. She’d twisted it into a net of braids that formed a crown around her ears. “Does this look all right?” she asked, brushing a tendril from her eyes.

“Beautiful,” I said, distracted by thoughts of what we’d see in the gardens. My stomach knotted. What if I couldn’t find the map?

“Let’s go,” Lyssia said, giving up on her hair.

I accompanied her out of the house and into the city. I was awed by the echoing spaces, the glittering columns, and glass that arched overhead and let in blue light from the sea. A school of fish darted past, looking almost like birds because they were so far away in that great azure void. The sight of them made me ache for the sky.

The gardens were at the top of the city, nearest to the sunlight that filtered through the vast expanse of blue water above our heads. We took a lift enclosed in a gilded chute, and my stomach knotted with anticipation as the city fell away around us.

The lift came to a shuddering stop, and the door opened. Lyssia grinned at me. “You’re going to like this.”

We stepped onto a platform surrounded by a smooth, rounded bubble of glass. The floor was glittering metal set with lights in the floor. Ramps led away in six different directions, some of them curling overhead, others leading straight away from us.

“Each ramp takes us to a different garden sphere,” Lyssia explained. “Cal could be in any of them. You said we should try Verdus?”

I nodded. The platform had captured my attention. Verdus’s ramp spiraled up to high above the platform, entering a tunnel of glass that gave views of the sea on all sides, even beneath our feet. As we reached the top, the sound of trickling water filled my ears.

“Here we are,” Lyssia said. “The garden sphere of Verdus.”

A glass sphere enclosed the garden, and lush green vegetation trailed up and down a forest of columns that reached to the top of the glass bubble. A sign next to the entrance informed us that Verdus was built amid a forest of kelp, an underwater plant that grew in tall, straight lines, and these columns were meant to mimic that in design. Pathways wove between the columns, some winding around them to take visitors to the top of the garden. Sunlight filtered through the ocean above and danced over everything in shivery bands of gold, mingling with spotlights that illuminated the columns in soft colors of blue and green. With the fish swimming past outside, I could almost believe we were underwater too.

“Where did these plants come from?” I asked as I turned a circle. “Aren’t they from the surface?”

“Our ancestors brought plants below with them when the world burned, saving thousands of varieties from extinction in gardens such as these,” Lyssia said. “My father could tell you more about it, I’m sure.”

We wandered through the paths, looking for Cal. At least, Lyssia looked, while I read every sign in search of information. But the beauty of the garden threatened to distract me from my mission. Sculptures of fish and otters were displayed among the vegetation, gleaming statues of gold and silver metals created in playful designs, and benches made to look like sea stones were tucked between columns. It was beautiful, a masterpiece.

“Let’s go up to the top,” Lyssia suggested, gesturing at the highest pathway that rose to the highest part of the garden sphere. “It’s the highest point in the whole city. We’ll be able to see better.”

I followed her up one of the winding pathways, scanning the surrounding area for any sign of the map the device from Merelus’s study had mentioned. When we reached the top, though, I forgot why I’d come.

The sunlight felt so close here, and it was almost like being in a cave by the sea, with light reflected from the water dancing on the rocks. I shut my eyes and pressed my hands to the glass. I could almost dredge up a dream of the Village of the Rocks, except for the fact that no wind stirred my hair and no scent of fresh seawater met my nose. Instead, I felt the faint mist from the waterfalls that trickled down the sides of some of the columns, and smelled the scent of green growing things mixed with the aroma of Lyssia’s perfume.

“Help me look for Cal,” Lyssia said, and the daydream was broken. I lowered my hands and turned to peer over the rail.

“He may not be here,” she murmured. “He may be in another garden, or not here at all.”

A glimmer of light caught my eye. Below, in the center of the garden sphere. “What’s that?” I demanded, leaning over the rail.

Lyssia looked. “Oh, that’s a map of Verdus. All the gardens have one for their city.”

The map.

“I would like to see it,” I said, trying to contain my eagerness.

We descended the ramp that led to the center of the Verdus garden. There, set atop a slab of green stone, hovered the glowing map of the city. I stared at it, trying to absorb all of the names, the shapes and what they represented—the tunnels that released harvesters into the kelp forest, the docking ports, the processing plants, and dozens of other things. There was so much to see and not enough time to absorb it all. I committed as many things to memory as I could, hoping the device would help me untangle their greater meaning later.

Finally, Lyssia had had enough.

“Let’s go,” she said, turning toward the exit. “I want to look through a few more of the gardens before supper.”

Reluctantly, I followed.

We left the Verdus garden sphere and entered the Volcanus one. It was lower than the Verdus garden. The air was murkier, the paths illuminated by glowing orbs of red and orange embedded in the edges of the paths. Instead of columns, pyramid-like structures rose around us, with brilliant red flowers spilling from the tops and down the sides. Thick slabs of black rock curved around the paths, carved with symbols and words.

“Volcanus,” Lyssia said dreamily. “It’s surrounded by volcanic activity, militant, focused on training. They learn about weapons and tech.” She sighed again. “I think it sounds fascinating.”

I thought it sounded horrible.

Lyssia continued, “It isn’t all wonderful, though. There’s a curfew for all citizens, and when children reach the age of ten, they are sent to military school to assess their suitability for serving in the army.”

“Have you ever visited Volcanus?” I asked. The darkness of the gardens alone made my lungs feel tight and my chest constricted. I could only imagine how claustrophobic the actual city might make me feel.

She shook her head.

We didn’t find Cal in the Volcanus garden sphere, either, so Lyssia suggested we try one more.

In the Arctusean garden sphere, sculptures of silvery metal flashed and glittered amid lights of pale blue. The flowers were all white, and they covered the ground in a thick blanket. Even the paths were covered with a pale gray moss proved tough enough to walk upon.

“Arctus is cold,” Lyssia explained as we wandered the paths. “I’ve visited the city twice with my father. He has friends there. It’s a fascinating place. Lots of experiments, lots of things to see and do.”

We reached the end of the Arctusean garden.

“He isn’t here,” she said with a sigh. “We should head home.”

“We can try again soon?” I asked, and held my breath waiting for her response. I needed to gather more information.

“Yes,” Lyssia agreed.

I DREW MAPS and kept notes from my trips to the gardens and from my knowledge gleaned from Merelus’s device on the bottom of my bunk, using a bit of charcoal from the kitchens to draw and write. I wriggled beneath it when no one was around and made my sketches. Soon I would be ready. Soon I would be able to make my escape.