Diamondsong 01: Escape Read online

  “I see. So what happens now?” he asked.

  Dime’s heart fluttered. Her plan was to start a music school, one that taught a range of life skills. Feeling too self-conscious to talk about it yet, she gave Ador a tailwaggle answer, knowing he’d take it as such.

  “Oh, nothing yet. I take a new path, Dayn continues to work his Boring Project”—she heard him grumble from the other room—“and maybe I’ll run to the library and pick up a good mystery to settle me for a few turns. Or maybe I’ll get out of the city a bit and see Ada-ji. Not just from the depths of some IC den, no—but out, exploring new things.”

  Her mind did race a bit at the idea of getting out of the city. Make no mistake, she loved Lodon with all her heart. She was born here and had never left for long. She loved Lodon’s stone towers, its hills, its ominous crags. She loved the chiseled ravines and the feel of their smooth stones against her bare feet. She loved the warmth of Sol from the top of the Circles’ complex, its golden accents shining in the light.

  Subconsciously, her hand reached up and felt the crystal which had hung around her neck as long as she could remember. Her father had never said much about it; when she’d asked him, he’d simply said the pendant was hers. Once—and once only—he remarked that he’d named her Diamond for the one around her neck when he’d found her.

  But ba’pyrsi weren’t born with diamonds. In fact, she’d never seen one other than her own. They were often mentioned in fantasy tales or used as metaphors. Dime would have considered them a myth had she not owned this one. Too visually striking to be any other type of glass or stone, and with a unique octagonal shape, she felt certain it was real.

  Dime kept the pendant tucked under her clothing when outside her home. But here, with Sol’s rays streaming through the wide window, she liked the way its soft facets caught the light, casting jagged rainbows onto the rough walls.

  It always amazed her how something so simple could pull her from the expansive landscape and rising towers of Lodon that spread across the tall tower view of her living space. She released the necklace.

  Only at this point did she realize she was gazing wistfully out of her living room window as her friend stood waiting, his hands clasped in patience.

  A cool wind swept through the open panel.

  Dime threw her hand over a stack of flapping papers, old work logs she had saved but not revisited. “I don’t need these now.” She shoved the stack into the refuse bin and turned sharp on her toes. “I didn’t give up.”

  His face drawing slightly, Ador waited for her to continue. But Dime understood the truth behind everyone’s cautious congratulations. For a pyr well into her Gamh, the epoch of making changes was over. She was supposed to have her plans together far before now. She was supposed to know her path. But, she didn’t. It was why she left.

  “Actually, I did,” she amended. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to try anymore, it was that I didn’t think I could make a difference.” She paused. With Ador’s connections to high-status pyrsi throughout the Circles, he must have known that despite her controversial positions and points of advocacy, she was under Sala’s consideration for Intel Chief: a member of the Light’s Circle itself. Yet, having ideas dismissed by a boss still had the same effect no matter which step that boss was on. And—

  “Joining the Free Winds ended my own career in the Circles.” Ador interrupted her thoughts, his smooth words grating like scratched glass. “I understand more than you think. Sala views it as treason, what we do. Treason! Suggesting pyrsi think for their own harmed selves!” Ador slammed his jaw shut, folding his arms and turning to gaze out of the tower window, where colorful festival banners rippled in the wind.

  Ador had been the leader of the Free Winds for so long, Dime was embarrassed to realize she’d never thought of him having a career before that. And one in the Circles, too.

  It was so much more than a career that he’d given up; he’d accepted a life of being viewed as high-class, but not accomplished. Intelligent, but not important. She saw him in new light: not just as their kind and insightful friend, but someone braver—more revolutionary—than she had considered.

  What else had she missed all these cycles?

  Dayn wandered back into the room at a casual pace, as if Ador’s harsh language and terse tone had not drawn him in. Dime almost laughed. When Ador started swearing, something was about to get serious.

  “I’d best be on my way.” Ador smiled with kindness, but his eyes were now distracted.

  Dime knew better than to press her friend once he was worked up. She’d call on him later for a glass of ferm and to thank him for the gift. Ador fanned his fingers and, with a nod to Dayn, stepped through the door. It closed behind him with a thud.

  Her spouse stood across the room, his familiar shape casting a larger shadow against the broad stones of the inside wall. The top of his head—also grayer than she had remembered—sent off a gleam in the bright light. She loved his simplicity, his unassuming stance, his plain suits.

  Unlike Ador with his patterns of waves, Dayn was the least tattooed adult she’d ever seen. And he had no concern what anyone thought of it. Just a few simple images marked him, most prominently a small tattoo for each of their two children, one spectrum and one feminine. Their names rested on Dayn’s temples in slanted letters: Luja. Tum.

  Luja had come to them first, when ve lost vis original parents in a toothcar accident at only two cycles of age. A friend at the medical enclave who knew Dime’s own story had said none of the ch’pyr’s extended family were able and asked if they’d be interested in parenting. One look at the toddling youth with the sharp expression and they knew their life had changed forever.

  Just half a cycle later, a pyr traveled to the city, close to labor and seeking a family for the infant. Without much time to coordinate, the same friend had asked if Dime and Dayn were interested in a second. They’d rushed to the enclave for the birth and fallen instantly in love with the quiet little bundle, tiny eyes searching to meet theirs. A rare condition had impeded the development of Tum’s legs, and turns later, they’d been mostly removed. Soon after, they sat around their cozy tower suite as a chaotic little quartet, Dime marveling at her fortune.

  She had never become pregnant over the cycles, and not through lack of opportunity, but her family was perfect as-is. Two felt just right. Especially with Dayn spoiling the shoulder pads off both of them. Speaking of which, one of Dayn’s shoulder buttons had worked loose.

  “Oh, come here,” she said to Dayn. “Your button is almost hanging off. We need to—”

  As she took a step toward him, she heard a click from behind her. Dayn froze. Spinning around, Dime jumped with a loud gasp as the entry door swung open, revealing three robed figures. Dime screamed, and her limbs locked in place.

  They stood like statues, backlit by the stairway window, with dark hoods pulled over their faces, which were obscured in the shadows beneath. They were hunched over, perhaps, or their cloaks rose with exaggerated padding. She didn’t have time to understand, as one of the cloaked pyrsi pressed toward her with a span of glittering rope.

  “You are under arrest,” xe said in a strange, smooth accent, not to the two of them, but directly to Dime, as though they had located someone of great import. “You will come with us to further resolve this matter.”

  The mysterious pyr moved closer with calm steps, reaching the rope forward.

  Who is this? A rest? Her thoughts confused, she stumbled in disorientation, coughing at a strong perfume. Why would someone enter her home? Why would they risk wearing hoods, against security statute? Who were—

  The figure clasped her arm and started to pull her close. Then xe paused as if stunned, xyr eyes resting on Dime’s pendant. She grunted, wrenching her hand away.

  By instinct, Dime spun to the side, avoiding xyr next grasp. The figure tripped forward, losing xyr balance.
A second figure pushed toward her, almost knocking over Ador’s gift, sitting on the ledge. “Don’t touch that,” Dime snapped, whisking the small box into a jacket pouch without taking her eyes from the dark hood.

  My children. An inner voice cut through her panic. Her children. Tum was at lessons and Luja was at apprenticeship. Tum had taken Agni to lessons; she remembered seeing the kita’s furry paw curled over Tum’s wrap when they’d placed Tum in the bucketpull to be lowered downstairs. That left Dayn, still behind her. They needed to get away. Whatever was happening, Dime only understood she could not let them tie her with any rope.

  Out, then. Out.

  “Together,” she called. As the figures closed in again, Dayn’s familiar presence joined her as they grasped hands and bolted from the room like a construction rod. Their pursuers seemed confused by the action, but not for long. As Dime and Dayn tumbled out into the center staircase, Dime’s training took over.

  If you are detected, get away. Leave no evidence. Get away. Assess and plan later.

  Their spike had one primary staircase, centered with a bucketpull. The first hub was three floors down—one of Dime’s favorite spots, where Marn kept fresh brew and always ensured a current copy of the Caller. As they barreled toward it, almost flying downward with their hands on the spiral banister, Dime considered what they should do next.

  The pyr in their room had put xyr hand on Dime without permission. She couldn’t shake the touch of it. Was this what the—the Violence felt like? And the ropes. Why? No pyr would consider forcibly detaining another; those who violated the rules accepted being marked by warning hemsa tattoos and left to live out of the city.

  Was it possible these pyrsi were from one of the outlaw villages on the edges of Sol’s Reach? Had they abandoned all order? With hoods, she couldn’t see their hemsa, if they had any. Wearing hoods would earn them more hemsa, if identified, so they must be serious. She had no clue what she was dealing with. Or why. Could they even mean . . . harm?

  While Dime saw no other way out than through the hub—for as sure as Sol she wasn’t going to submit to these cloaked strangers—she didn’t want to put others in their path. Yet they trailed close behind her in the narrow staircase and, the image of their tightly grasped rope muddling her thoughts, she let her feet continue to run.

  Dime landed hard in the center of her local hub, glad she was still wearing her boots as they slammed into the planked floor, surrounded by lounging residents and the smell of fresh brew beans. Several pyrsi screamed, scrambling out of her and Dayn’s way. “Danger!” Dime shouted. “Danger; leave or hide!”

  The hooded figures landed beside them without a stride to spare. One reached for her, getting hold of both arms this time. Involuntarily, Dime yelped. Dayn thrust the wheeled brew stand, brew and all, between them, forcing the aggressor to jump back and release her, as pyrsi in the hub gasped and screamed.

  “Go!” Dayn yelled.

  Dime jumped onto the counter, kicking the papers as she slid across it. Pages from the Caller fluttered into the air and Dime leapt over the side, aiming toward one of the two closest exits, knowing they wouldn’t see which one she had chosen until she was through it. She raced forward with all her force, again propelling herself, hand over hand, down each floor’s banister.

  Purchasing a high home for a nice view now seemed like another of her more short-sighted decisions. Her heart pounding, she tried to remember where each hub was, as now she was in a less familiar section of the tower. The shouts from behind indicated a close pursuit, as did Dayn’s voice, carrying over the din. “Go! Go!” he continued to shout.

  She realized in that moment what Dayn must already have realized. They wanted her. Not Dayn. Dime. She was the one that needed to get away.

  Unsure how she was able to keep pushing forward, and not feeling much of anything at this point, she continued the pattern: down the tower, find a hub, pick a new, less expected path. Stay one step ahead. Switching spires cost her time, but she hoped it might throw off her pursuers. She only needed to get far enough ahead that they would choose the wrong arch; maybe even enter a new tower once they got to the lower levels.

  If she lost them, would they leave?

  But she didn’t lose them, and she heard a torrent of steps close behind. What do you want with me? Dime asked again and again. There must be better options than simply running, but there was no time to think. Floors flashed by, and pyrsi gaped and ran, and Dime gave up on reality until she had time to consider it again. Almost rolling out into the tower’s street-floor lobby, she bolted for the entrance.

  As though her senses caught up to her, she felt an overwhelming exhaustion all at once. Should she try and find Enforcement? Would these outlaws even respond? Wearing hoods and wielding ropes, they showed complete disregard for the law.

  Yet she couldn’t keep running this way, with her pursuers right behind her. She could run to a public place, but if the invaders tried to take her anyway, would pyrsi stop them? How could they be stopped if they did not respond to the law? The answers were not ones she would consider.

  She thought that in a crowd, she could lose them. They seemed to want her specifically; she hoped they wouldn’t use the ropes on anyone else.

  Stumbling from the lobby arches as those within fled in panic, she heard the commotion growing behind her. There was a dome just down the street; with a sharp breath, she turned toward it. Pedestrians and toothcars paced by on the busy road. She hoped in desperation that they would block her from view and the pursuers would leave, their mission a failure. Behind her, the calls grew closer. They were gaining ground, almost to her.

  She heard a bellowing yell. Turning by instinct, she saw that Dayn had leapt onto the tail end of the closest one’s cloak and dug a set of metal claws—Construction Circle pyrsi always carried little tools—into the thick fabric to hook the figure’s garments and hold him back so Dime had a better chance of leaving. No! It was too close to the Violence. The fabric must have been damaged. She would not allow it.

  The figure wrestled away, not understanding that Dayn’s tool had burrowed into the cloak, holding it back as xe continued to press forward. As the dark fabric rippled away, two large, iridescent wings sprung back and a rope of braided hair unraveled between them, as if xe hadn’t shaved, well, for cycles.

  Wings.

  Hair.

  For a long stride that was probably just a split moment, they froze, staring at each other. The pyr—she supposed xe was still a pyr; xe didn’t look so different overall—wore a dark robe, accented with a small pin. Xyr face, what was visible outside of the hair, was much like anyone else’s, but without any tattoos.

  “Take that one too!” one of the cloaked figures yelled to the uncloaked pyr as xe pointed at Dayn, still in his slippers. “Meet back at Chambers!” Around them, chaos bounced through the crowd like lightning.

  “Fairies!” pyrsi shouted, those whose shouts were discernable over the torrent of screams.

  “Sprites!”

  “Their wings, like bugs!”

  “Look! Over there, look!”

  “The Violence! The fairies have returned it!”

  Dime and Dayn locked eyes. “Don’t worry about me,” they both called, as if in chorus. Dime wanted to smile, but then it seemed she had two pursuers now to flee, whereas Dayn would just have the one. She’d better get to it.

  Fairies?

  A knot grew in her gut and her back twitched in a panic spasm as she accepted what she had seen. Whispered stories of the flying creatures flashed through her mind, of their terrifying screams and cruel practices, living in murky forests with the beast-like newts. Yet, there xe was. Clearly a fairy, yet looking like other pyrsi at xyr core, wings and hair aside.

  Contact with the fairies would return the Violence. Dime couldn’t think about that now, not if she wanted to prevent it.

  Around her, pyrsi
screamed and ran. Someone pulled the storm siren, and wind rushed through the bellows, its loud warning howling down the street.

  The uncloaked fairy with the braided hair flew overhead, pushing aside the abandoned toothcar Dayn had slipped behind as if by valence. But—it must be valence, Dime realized with shock. Then, valence was real?

  For all the childhood stories she’d been told about the wicked fairies and the powerful valence of their huge wings, this wasn’t quite the power she had imagined. The car rocked and then steadied, but Dayn had already moved far down the street. The fairy, still in flight, grunted and then darted his way.

  Two more to evade. Instead of running as Dayn had, Dime jumped behind a row of food carts and made her way to a water ravine, just deeper than her own height. Unsure if her pursuers had seen her lower into it, she darted along the dry streambed, hoping to gain some distance before they figured out where she had gone.

  The large, round stones turned under her feet and the dry air burned in her lungs. In addition to her lack of speed, she worried about tripping or turning an ankle. Several turns later, and angry for not having her climbing gloves though there was no reason she would have had them on, Dime’s fingers scraped and bled as she pulled herself out of the ravine and into a narrow alley.

  Cursing that she could not see the shadows here, she ran again, hoping she was headed toward the city gates. Seeing the still-hooded figures—she supposed these were fairies too—at the end of the alleyway, she turned back and pushed through a crowded shop, racks of ready-made suits smacking her from both sides. She resisted the urge to hide, knowing they had seen her enter. Even risking a hemsa to take clothing for a disguise would not help.

  Popping through the shop’s main arch, she noted that the rumors had not yet reached this street, as pyrsi glanced up curiously at what must be the false sound of a storm siren. Turning a corner and hoping the fairies wouldn’t arrive and see her, Dime hailed a flagged toothcar, trying to catch her breath. “Great Gates, please,” she said in her best management voice. “I’m late meeting someone, so if you could hurry.”