Phoenix Overture (3 page)

FATHER WASN’T HAPPY when I came home, realizing I hadn’t obeyed him by going to join Janan’s warriors, but amazingly, Fayden covered for me, saying we’d been out scavenging together, and that he and I would be working together from now on.

It was sort of true.

And it meant Father wasn’t going to kick me out for being
completely
useless—at least not right away.

Summer wore on, with ever-increasing heat that refused to break. The flies grew worse, and the Council, worried that disease would spread, moved plague victims out of the Community altogether. Now, they were quarantined in the old city, trapped in some forgotten building.

Every day Stef, Fayden, and I ventured into the old city to remove plates of glass from the curtain at the back of the theater. Rather, they worked, and I sat at the piano and played, my fingers dancing over the black and white keys.

One day, Fayden dropped a pile of folders and slim books on top of the piano.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Music. I think.” He flicked the pages I’d left sitting on the piano before. “They looked like those.”

I studied the sheets of fading music he’d brought; after so much practice, reading music was like reading words. Some of them were pieces for other instruments, but many of them were marked “piano.”

“Thanks.” I glanced up at him. “I don’t think I’ve seen these pieces before. They’ll be fun to play.”

“I just wanted to hear something new.” Fayden shrugged. “There are a few more places I know where there’s more of this. I can get it for you, if you want. None of the other scavengers want it except for burning in the winter.”

My jaw dropped. “
Burning
music?”

“It’s a legitimate fuel source.”

I shook my head. “Please rescue it, if you can.”

“Sure.” He patted the piano’s lid. “Just keep playing. It’s . . . nice to listen to.”

I didn’t know what to say.

We’d been so distant since we were children, but now, he asked me to play specific pieces over others, showed me how to duck into the house without encountering Father, and taught me how to cook—sort of. There wasn’t much
to
cook, and he wasn’t particularly skilled at it himself. But we made do.

And a couple of times, Stef halted my playing to make repairs to the piano. I’d taught him what I knew about its inner workings, and how to tune it, and he’d picked up on the skills with alarming speed and understanding. He refelted some of the hammers where the felt had worn thin. He helped retune the piano, making adjustments while I listened and guided him to hit the right pitch. Soon, the piano sounded better than ever.

The improvements allowed me to play a wider range of music than before, without worrying so much about which keys needed to be avoided.

In the weeks immediately following Mother’s death, I hadn’t imagined I’d ever enjoy life again. But with Stef and Fayden working together, their mocking and encouragement, and the way our grins became easier around one another, it seemed, for the first time in what felt like ages, that I might actually be happy.

After hours of dismantling the glass curtain and organizing the bits of glass by color, we carried the blue shards in boxes into the woods, where Stef’s trap waited. The other colors would sit in the theater until we had a need for them.

Fayden and I sat at the base of an avocado tree, watching Stef shimmy up and down the tree, judging various pieces of glass against the surrounding foliage, hunting for just the angle to imitate the glimmer of sunlight on water.

Fayden cut an avocado in half, tossed the pit, and handed one side to me. Flies swarmed as if from nowhere; we swatted them away.

“Thanks.” The fruit had very little taste, thanks to the drought, but any food was a blessing. We’d all lost weight over the summer. Hunger was a constant low-grade sensation, something we were used to and didn’t even complain about anymore.

“How does it look up there?” Fayden called, startling a few nearby birds into silence.

Stef peered down from the browning leaves and grinned. “Cloudy.”

I scrambled to my feet. “Really?”

“What kind of clouds?” Fayden stood, too, and turned his face to the sky.

Only clear blue shone between the trees here, but Stef had a better view. “The kind that make rain. And they’re coming this way.”

“The trap—”

“Will have to wait.” Stef climbed down several branches, and jumped the last bit. “The glass that’s up there will stay through the storm—I think—but I won’t be able to do the rest of this in the rain.”

“But your meeting with the Council is this afternoon. What will you show them?”

Stef laughed and lifted his face as a cool wind pushed through the forest. “Nothing. I’ll tell them what I have so far, explain how it will work, show the diagrams—but there won’t be anything to see today.”

I glanced at the trees, the invisible trap hidden somewhere in the high boughs.

Stef sobered and bumped my arm. “Don’t worry. The trap is functional. If a troll comes through in the rain, it’s dead. And then we have an even better demonstration for the Council.”

“Oh, good.” Relieved, I helped pack away the bits of glass, placing them carefully between tattered shirts and strips of cloth.

Wind picked up as we hefted the boxes and headed back toward the Community, bringing an ominous hush to the woods. “We can stop by our house on the way to the Center and drop off the glass.” Father would still be out for the day, working to build up homes and shops with better walls or more level floors; most of the Community lived in sad accommodations.

Wind whipped the trees, and shrieks and shouts came from the Community ahead.

Our homes were but a large collection of hovels surrounding the far more useful building that was the Center. Once, the Center had been a domed field, meant for observing games of some kind. But legend was that the Center had been open only a month when the Cataclysm struck. It had been full, and thousands—maybe millions—of people were trapped inside. The Center had survived, and when the volcanic eruptions and earthquakes were over and the people came out to find their city in ruins, they sorted themselves by skills and began building the Community around the place that had saved their lives. Gradually, others found their way to the Community, too, like Grandmother.

At least, that was what Mother had told me.

Clouds darkened on the horizon, heralded by heavy wind and the squawk of birds flying to their nests. Outside their huts, children pointed at the sky and the promise of rain. The air pressure dropped; everything was sticky and warm, and insects droned.

We headed through the maze of houses and tiny gardens, most barely surviving the drought. My house was dim with the oncoming storm, but Fayden and I had lived here all our lives and we could navigate it in the dark. We kicked open doors and carried the boxes of glass to hide in his room; Father wouldn’t look there.

A faint creaking in the kitchen stilled me.

“What is it?” Stef asked. The three of us paused in the hallway, caught between bedroom doors and the washroom.

“Someone’s here.” I kept my voice low, but there was no point. A moment later, Father slammed his way into the hall and flicked his glare from me to the box I held, and back to me.

“What is this?” He reached inside the box; the hall was too narrow for me to move out of the way. His breath smelled sharp and sour, as though he’d been drinking. Indeed, the leather flask hung off his belt. “Glass? Where did you get this?”

I pressed my mouth in a line. The silence came over me, a familiar armor.

Father’s voice deepened and grew raspy. “You’ve been scavenging with your brother? And you’ve been hiding
glass
?” He placed the glass back inside the box, careful of such wealth even in his anger, and turned on Fayden.

My brother stared at me, but he didn’t say anything. Behind him, Stef looked as though he wanted to disappear into the wall, but I couldn’t help his discomfort. I couldn’t even help myself.

The air in the hall grew stuffy and hot as Father shoved himself toward Fayden. Too close. Too close. And yet, a pathetic sense of relief welled up inside me—relief he wasn’t that close to me.

“You’ve both been hiding this from me?” Father shouted. “No wonder you’ve been such
brothers
lately. Were you going to take it and move out? Leave me here to starve on my own?”

Fayden put on his most patient tone. “No, Father—”

“And now you deny it?” Father drew back and hit Fayden with a loud
whap
, almost lost beneath the sudden roll of thunder.

The box of glass slipped in my hands, but I tightened my grip and glanced at Stef. His expression was a mask of uncertainty and shock.

Thunder rumbled again, but the sound was distant, muted, like even the world held its breath.

“We have to go.” My voice came as a hollow rasping. “Our friend needs our help.”

Father’s eyes cut to Stef, and the stench of alcohol on his breath filled the hall as he huffed out a laugh. “Friend? Dossam, you don’t have friends.”

Stef’s jaw clenched when he swallowed. “With respect, sir, I get to decide whether Sam is my friend. Not you.”

Even as my heart swelled at the words, I gaped at Stef. Wasn’t he afraid? He’d seen what happened when someone contradicted Father. I waited for Father to strike Stef, too.

But Father had something worse in mind. He lowered his voice, and his eyes became mere slits. “You don’t want to be friends with a boy who killed his own mother.”

My breath came short and rattled. “We should go.” I edged out of the hall, but Father slammed his palm to the wall and blocked me in.

“Leave the glass.” A strange note pushed into his voice. Hunger. Greed. Probably calculating how much whiskey all this glass would buy.

I glanced at Stef, who shook his head. “We’ll take it to my house.”

“You will not.” Father grabbed the box from me, glass clinking inside, and tossed it into the washroom. Glass clattered—had it broken?—and he shoved past me to seize Stef’s box, too. “Get out of my house.” He faced Fayden and me. His knuckles were white as he gripped the box. “All of you. Out of my house. Thieves. Traitors. Mother-killers. I don’t ever want to see any of you again.”

Fayden sounded placating. “Father—”

“Get
out
!” Father hit Fayden square in the jaw. “Get out!” He whipped his hand back and hit me in the temple, making sparks flare in my vision and sending my head thudding against the wall.

Before he could go after Stef, I scrambled from the hallway, moving toward the front door. Fayden and Stef weren’t far behind. But our glass was gone.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Stef asked as we hurried through the Community, all the little houses like teeth around us.

Children gaped outside, dancing barefoot as the first drops of rain blew in from the storm. Women placed buckets and jars and plastic tubs out to collect water. Animals scurried over rooftops and under eaves. Everywhere I looked, people and creatures radiated excitement. Even the trees hissed and groaned as black clouds rolled in.

But my temple and the back of my head throbbed, and my eyes weren’t focusing quite right; the whole world had a faint shimmer that shouldn’t have been there. Fayden hunched his shoulders and grit his teeth, though mostly he just looked confused.

Stef trotted to keep up with us, asking again, “What happened back there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I couldn’t believe it. We’d been kicked out. Stolen from. Well, I could believe it had happened to
me
, but to Fayden? Father loved Fayden, always treated him like an equal.

Until Fayden had covered for me after I’d skipped going on Janan’s quest—or volunteering to be humiliated by trying for it. Fayden hadn’t been equal since then. Because of me.

“I have to get the glass back.” Stef took several long strides and kept pace with me. “I need to finish the trap.”

“Is that all you care about?” I stopped walking and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Your trap? Didn’t you
see
what happened? Didn’t you
hear
it?”

Stef went quiet. People around us bumped into our shoulders and elbows, but they didn’t acknowledge us.

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it,” he said after a moment. “I guess—I saw what happened.” His gaze cut to my temple, where a trickle of warmth leaked down my cheekbone. “And heard.”

“So why did you ask?” My throat was raw with restraint. My eyes ached and I had an uncomfortable urge to shove him out of my way. Not that I knew where I was going. Or what I’d do now.

Fayden lurked a few paces away, his arms crossed as he glared at the ground.

Maybe I could go live in the concert hall.

Stef inclined his head toward the Center. “Let me talk to the Council about the trap. You and Fayden cool down. Then I’ll find you somewhere to stay for the night. Maybe your father will change his mind when you don’t come home.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“Then you’ll stay with me as long as you need.” He shifted his weight. “I can cook, and my aunts live next door. They can help us get whatever you need.”

“Why?” My voice caught. I didn’t deserve anything like that. “Why would you do that for me?”

Stef blinked and pulled back a hair. “Because you’re my friend.”

In spite of what I’d done? What I
hadn’t
done?

The sky opened and thunder cracked. Rain poured from the clouds and a cold wind whipped through the Community. Children shrieked and lifted their faces to the sky, delight shining. Mothers pulled them into houses, but they, too, were smiling, because the heat had finally broken and the drought was over.

“Hey.” Stef rested his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t believe what he said you did. About your mother.”

Rain dripped from my hair, into my eyes. I swiped away the black strands. “He wasn’t lying.”

Stef raised an eyebrow.

“There was a troll, just two weeks before we met. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t even try.” The rain chopped my words. “I was too afraid to move.”

Fayden came closer, still silent, and put his hand on my other shoulder. The weight of their hands made me feel like I might sink into the ground, but they were trying to be supportive and I couldn’t stand to disappoint them by edging away.

“Nothing will change what I didn’t do.” I could hardly hear my words under the clatter of rain and thrash of wind. We were the only people in the street now; only pots and jars and buckets stood out here with us, gathering water as the street turned to mud.

“You have the chance to act now,” said Stef. “Help me stop it from happening to anyone else.”

Shivering at the cold slap of rain, I nodded and followed them to the Center. Stef’s acceptance—and Fayden’s forgiveness—didn’t fix anything. Mother was still gone, Father hated me worse than ever, and suddenly I had no home.

I wasn’t a brave person. This only highlighted my faults, this inability to resist their attempts to accept my past as past. But I wanted them to accept me. So I’d let them believe they were helping.

The Center was cool and dry. Rain beat a staccato tempo on the roof, dulled by the sound of voices and breathing and people rushing through the long, curved hall to relay some message or other. Maybe they, too, were excited about the storm.

Stef knew where he was going, so Fayden and I trailed behind. I wanted to ask Fayden what he thought about Stef’s offer, if it seemed weird that Stef was inviting us to live with him. But I couldn’t make my voice work. I didn’t want to risk Fayden taking back the silent support he’d offered earlier.

Footsteps echoed in the halls, and shoes squeaked on the cracked tiles. Faces, some friendly and some frowning, peered at us from under wide-brimmed hats that dripped rainwater.

Tap tap tap
. The world was alive with sound, but my thoughts dulled, their edges fuzzy as I went after Stef and Fayden.

We rounded a corner and arrived at the Council chamber. Stef knocked, and an old man pushed open the door. “Welcome.” He glanced over the three of us. “Which one of you is Stefan?”

“I am.” Stef pulled his folded papers from his pocket. “I know I’m a little early—”

“That’s quite all right,” said the old man. “The previous appointment was canceled because of the storm. I’m Sine. Come in.” He eyed Fayden and me, then motioned to a metal bench just outside the room. “Please wait for your friend here. If you’re needed, we will call on you.”

I slouched over to the bench and leaned against the wall, shivering as the temperature in the building dropped and the rainwater cooled on my skin. Fayden sat next to me, his arms crossed and a tight expression on his face.

“We’ll have to get back the glass.” He spoke to the empty hall. “If the Council finds out he doesn’t have it, they might not approve him to install the traps throughout the forest. He might not get the rest of the supplies he needs.”

“Surely the Council could persuade Father to turn over the glass to them.” I wiped away a trickle of water leaking from my hair. The cut on my temple stung, and red tinged the water when it fell onto my forearm. “The trap will work. Stef knows what he’s doing, and the Council would be fools to turn down his project.”

“You have a lot of confidence in his work.”

I shrugged.

Minutes dripped by. Inside the Council chamber, voices rose and fell. Mostly Stef’s. Even with the drive of rain obscuring the words, I could hear Stef’s passion and enthusiasm in his tone. Hopefully they were reacting well, even though he hadn’t had a chance to test the prototype.

Would they have the same angry response as Father when they found out about the glass? Maybe Stef wouldn’t tell them where he’d gotten it.

Fayden glanced at me. “He’ll forgive us.”

“Who? Father?”

“Yeah.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care if he does or not.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” He hesitated. “I’ve known you your whole life. I know what you look like when you’re lying.”

“Why would I care if he forgives us?” If Father forgave anyone, it would be Fayden. That could happen pretty easily, if only Fayden stopped caring what happened to me. And the truth I was barely willing to admit: part of me still waited for Fayden to turn back to Father. One summer of brotherhood didn’t change an entire lifetime of unhappy experiences.

“If you didn’t care, you’d have left when Mother died.”

And gone where? Done what? I’d wanted to leave, but I hadn’t, because I wasn’t brave enough. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He sat back and rubbed his jaw, expression thoughtful. “I’m sorry, Dossam.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“For not understanding. For assuming you were lazy and useless, like Father said. I couldn’t understand why Mother thought so highly of you. . . .”

And now she was dead. Because I hadn’t been able to save her. Had she thought so highly of me in those last minutes?

“I didn’t understand that you were keeping such a big part of yourself secret from Father—that you had to. He wouldn’t understand. Until I heard you play and saw the way it affected you,
I
wouldn’t have understood.” Fayden sighed. “I still didn’t understand your resentment toward him until today. He’d never hit
me
before.”

I closed my eyes and pulled in the sound of rain on the rooftop, voices echoing in the hall, and my brother’s breathing next to me. “He won’t forgive us. He might forgive
you
, but no matter what anyone else thinks, he’s been waiting for the chance to force me out. He blames me for what happened to Mother.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

Loud thumping down the hall saved me from having to answer his question. Fayden and I sat up to watch a young man come hurtling through the Center, water streaming behind him. Everyone moved out of his way.

“Is that Meuric?” Fayden asked.

“I think so.” I didn’t know many of the Councilors by sight. We all knew Janan, of course; he’d been the leader of the Community since before I was born. Before him, his father had been the leader, the one who led everyone out of the Center and assembled them into a new society after the old had vanished. He’d appointed the Council to rule under him, as well. Over the years, many groups had come from other parts of the world to join their Community; all had to be approved by the Council—and mostly by Janan.

Meuric, from what little I knew about the Council, was Janan’s assistant. Best friend. Willing slave. Something.

And now, panic distorting his features, Meuric threw himself into the Council chamber without knocking. The door hung open a moment, letting his words into the hall: “I need everyone’s attention immediately!”

The door swung shut, muting the sudden cacophony of voices for a heartbeat before someone opened the door again and shoved Stef out. Papers fluttered in his wake, falling to the floor like afterthoughts.

“What’s going on?” Fayden surged up from the bench, his eyes on the closed door. “Did they like your trap? Are they going to let you make more?”

“I think so. I was only able to get through part of my presentation before Meuric came in and everyone jumped. He’s really scared about something.” Stef pressed his ear against the shut door. “Let’s listen. You too, Sam.”

I heaved myself up and leaned toward the door. Thumps, rustling papers, and raised voices came from within; the latter were mostly attempts to calm Meuric.

“They have him.” Even through the door we could hear the panic that edged Meuric’s words. “They took everyone.”

“Who?” asked one of the other Councilors. “What happened?”

“Janan and every warrior. They’ve been captured.”

“By whom?”

“By our new enemy.”

I held my breath, but if Meuric elaborated on the enemy, then the words were lost beneath the deafening
bang
of thunder. The entire Center trembled under the sound.

“What do we do?” asked a Councilor. Sine, maybe. The one from earlier. “Where did they take him?”

“I don’t know where they took the others, but Janan was taken north. Far, far to the north.” Meuric coughed, and someone comforted him. “Janan sought to deliver us from death. We must go after him.”