42. Lanterns in the Breeze (Adranaya)¶
Adra dreamed she was a paper bird.
She floated through the evening sky, surrounded by her countless sisters and brothers, each contributing their tiny drop of incandescence. Alone, their glow was insignificant, but together they lit up the night. The warmth of her flame comforted her, filled her up, gave her lift. Eventually it would transform her into a glittering rain of ash and ember, but that seemed only right. It would be a fitting end, a slow cascade of beauty to mark her passing. It was only when she saw the scything wall of rain and lighting ahead that she grew afraid.
She awoke in a dark and smoky room, looking up at Vaye. The Anashi was drenched with rain or sweat, wearing an expression of intense focus, her milky curls clinging to her temples. The whites of her eyes shone like moonlight. She was doing something to Adra’s abdomen and didn’t notice that Adra was awake.
The Anashi closed her eyes, and Adra suddenly perceived the thorn in her navel. It throbbed, its presence alien and unclean, the tiny spirals of its roots burrowing into her flesh like worms. Before she could draw breath to scream, the roots relaxed and Vaye lifted the thorn free. A tiny bead of blood dripped off its tip onto Adra’s stomach, and she convulsed, gasping as though half-drowned.
Vaye yelped in surprise and dropped the thorn. “Adra!” she cried, laying her hands on Adra’s shuddering ribcage. Gadarien dropped to his knees beside Vaye, his skin drawn and pale but his expression one of profound relief. He laid his hands over Vaye’s and shut his eyes, humming some kind of Cantereian prayer of thanksgiving. Vaye began to sob, bowing forward and laying her head on Adra’s chest.
“It’s okay,” Adra whispered, stroking Vaye’s hair. She wasn’t sure what she was comforting Vaye about, but it felt nice to have the two of them close.
“I was afraid...” Gadarien said. “I thought you were gone.” A tear dripped off his chin and disappeared into Vaye’s hair.
Adra held out her hand and he took it. The memories were starting to come back now. She didn’t want them, but they invaded her mind in waves: the fear and confusion as the Sihiri bound her hands and took her from the classroom, her guts like a bag of lead. Her outrage and pleading, her insistence that it was all a mistake, soon replaced by abject terror as she realized that it didn’t matter, that no one cared and no one was coming to save her. The shame of being stripped and bound to the ring, prepared like game at a Baranaathi feast.
Then the Healing.
Thankfully, her mind shut itself off at that point. She treaded the surface of her consciousness, her memories swimming beneath her like crocodiles, their jaws ready to snap shut if she dared enter their depths.
Gadarien gently pried open her fingers, wincing, and she realized that she’d been crushing his hand. “Sorry,” she said, her voice rusty.
He shook his head. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
Vaye lifted her head and wiped her nose on her sleeve, then dried off Adra’s belly. “Sorry, I slobbered all over you.”
Adra managed a weak chuckle. “Where are we?”
An unfamiliar face appeared over Gadarien’s shoulder, an older Cantereian woman with gray hair and a face like a well-used cauldron, hard and warm at the same time. “A safehouse. But it won’t be safe for long. You three need to leave.”
Gadarien rose. “We’ll need food and travel gear.” He and the woman walked away, conversing in low voices, but Vaye stayed, studying Adra’s face.
“Are you...” Vaye started, then shook her head. “I wish we could let you rest, but there’s no time. Do you think you can walk?”
Adra moved her limbs, testing them out. “I think so,” she said. Aside from a deep thirst and some places where the ropes had rubbed her skin raw, she felt physically fine. If only her mind were as hale. She felt one breath away from a scream.
All her life, she’d craved the feeling of letting go. She had loved nothing more than giving up control and allowing someone else to exert their will upon her, free from the burden of choice. It was what she had wanted from the Moons of Paradise, and what she had wanted from Vaye: a chance to just be, instead of always having to be good. But choosing to give up control and having control ripped away by force were two very, very different things.
Vaye handed her some clothes. Adra had never been particularly modest, and felt even less so after what she’d endured. Physical nudity seemed like a silly concern compared to having her soul stripped bare. “What happened to your arm?” she asked.
Vaye looked down at the v-shaped scar as though she’d forgotten about it. Adra was certain it hadn’t been there before. “I got cut,” said the Anashi, grimacing as though embarrassed. “While we were getting out of the School. We had to fight some guards.”
“When?” Adra said. “How long was I at the House of Breezes?”
“Just a day,” Vaye said. “Although I’m sure it felt like longer.”
“But...” Adra looked at the scar again. It made no sense. A wound that deep couldn’t heal so fast. Not even the Healer was capable of such things, as Adra was in an excellent position to know.
Vaye shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. Adra wanted a real explanation, but she supposed it would have to wait, like all the other things she didn’t understand.
Behind Vaye, Gadarien and the older Cantereian woman were deep in conversation. “The tunnels are already being watched,” she said. “So are the river gates. They’re even searching the boats.”
“What about the smuggling routes?” Gadarien said.
The woman shook her head. “You’d be the only ones using them.” She paused. In the sudden silence, the rain outside seemed suddenly loud. “There is one other way.”
Gadarien glanced over at Vaye and Adra uncertainly. “I’m not sure we can make it.” He turned his back to Adra, but either her senses were heightened or there was something odd about the room, because she could still hear him clearly. “If anyone loses their footing, they’ll be swept away.”
“You can rope yourselves together,” the woman said.
“That would help, but it’s not enough,” Gadarien said as he rubbed his jaw. He looked around the room, and then his eyes lit on Vaye. “But maybe...”
Vaye’s weariness was unmistakable, like a candle burned down to a stub. When she saw Gadarien looking at her, though, she pushed herself to her feet. “What do you need?”
“Can you re-use those thorns to create a flowtree?” Gadarien said. He glanced at Adra again, and Adra closed her eyes most of the way, pretending to sleep.
“Not the ones with the Vorkyrda’s blood, unless we want her controlling us,” Vaye said. “But the Healer was also using temporary thorns. They’re shallow and easy to move around. I could probably make those work, if the connection didn’t need to last too long.”
“Good,” Gadarien said. “Listen, I know you’re tired. So am I. But there’s only one way out of the city, and it’s going to be hard.”
“Harder than what we’ve already done?”
He hesitated. “We have to walk through the Eyewall.”
Vaye swayed back as though dodging a blow. “That would be a yes, then.”
He grimaced. “A little ways into the Eyewall, there’s a hidden tunnel entrance that faces away from the wind. We’d only be exposed until we get there, a short walk. Once we’re in the tunnel it’s a straight shot out of the city. It would get us past the guards at the gates.”
“And you’ve done this before?” Vaye said with obvious skepticism.
Gadarien glanced at Teira, who shrugged. “Not personally,” he said.
“I have, a long time ago, ” said the Cantereian woman. “It’s survivable. The hard part is finding the entrance. If you miss it, you won’t last long.”
“But a flowtree would help us coordinate our movements and heighten our senses, maybe keep us from falling,” Gadarien said. Even he didn’t seem sure. “Right?”
Vaye pushed her hair back with both hands. “Do we have any other options?”
“Nothing you’ll like better,” Gadarien said.
“I can make the flowtree,” Vaye said. “But I’m not sure if Adranaya can—”
“I can do it,” Adra said, fed up with being spoken about instead of spoken to. To prove it, she got to her feet, masking her vertigo as best she could. “I want to get the fuck away from here.”
The Cantereian woman limped over to her, studying her face. “Do you know who I am, child?”
“One of Gadarien’s deal—” Adra said, then caught herself. “Uh, friends?”
The woman laughed, and the sound was warm despite the grim situation. “I see why he likes you. My name is Teira. I’m the Guiasa of the Feiçeira cell here in Thelenza. Gadarien’s cell.”
Adra couldn’t keep the shock off her face, although a part of her wasn’t surprised. She had known Gadarien was involved with something dangerous, perhaps smuggling or something. The Feiçeira were a whole different level of trouble, though.
“I know you’ve suffered a great deal,” Teira said. “It would be easier to hide things from you, and for you to hide things from yourself. But a lot of people died to bring you here. I think we owe it to them, and to you, to tell you the truth.”
Adra looked at Vaye and Gadarien and nodded. “No more secrets,” she said. They both looked frightened, either of walking into the Eyewall or of the truth. But after what she had been through, Adra doubted either of them understood what fear truly was.
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