Diamondsong 02: Capture Read online

  Rock closed her eyes. “Your scars, of course. But it’s more than that. You’re different, D. Just . . . some of your sensibilities. The ones I’ve always— It wasn’t until the fairies came to find you that I pieced it together. Dime, I know you didn’t know. At least not back then. When . . . when did you find out?”

  “Just turns ago. After the incident. A friend realized it. Not me.” Dime resolved to keep Ella out of this for now, until she understood more about this Dawn’s Circle. She was glad she didn’t have to say it. The idea of being biologically Fo-ror was still formulating in her mind.

  Rock, seeming to understand this, shifted back to her story. “Atti asked me directly if I had any materials related to the fairies. I could tell him I didn’t. That book—I’d already given it to the others. The worst part was groveling to that turd. I apologized, said I was misguided.

  “See, I didn’t understand at the time the leverage I had, which is why he didn’t throw me out right away. He knew what others thought of me, that my departure would open up questions. He didn’t want questions. He tried to make me stay by threatening me, and he thinks he won. Since then, he lords over controlling me. Gives me horrible assignments. Thinks he’s Sol.

  “I don’t care. I do the minimum for the report, then sneak away and do what DC needs me to do. I know who I am.” Her eyes lit up. “Have you seen it? Pito?”

  “No,” Dime was embarrassed to admit. “I made it into some creek alley, tried to help a pyr, and got arrested.”

  Rock giggled. “Of course you did.” A smile broke across her face.

  “I did see the Crossing,” Dime said.

  “Oh! That place is the best. You can get some of the weirdest stuff there. And there’s a hidden hall where pyrsi meet and negotiate. Do you know there’s a fairy there who uses valence to remove hemsa? They say it hurts like harm, but it works.”

  “Really?” Dime started to think of other questions. She wanted to hear what kind of Intel Dawn’s Circle—she was still adjusting to that idea—had gathered on the Fo-ror. What materials they had.

  “No, not yet. I want to hear your side of it. The invasion.”

  Dime told the story as best she remembered it. The fairies bursting in, waving the rope. Her departure. She couldn’t help but enjoy the genuine shock on Rock’s face when she described falling over the cliff. She wasn’t sure how appropriate it was to brag about falling over a cliff, but the story did have a certain flair.

  “So you know the thing, D?” Dime was remembering now how Rock asked these completely vague questions, like you were supposed to have a witty response. She waited; Rock would answer it anyway.

  “Your arrest failed because you didn’t know about arrest. These fairies are so reverent about their Seats and their traditions, they’d never considered that someone wouldn’t just submit.”

  “Then why the ropes?”

  “Part show, part control. Same as these bars here. Confinement doesn’t sit well with pyrsi. We’re not built that way. Even if pyrsi agreed with their duty to stay, after a while, they start to justify getting out. The Seats don’t want pyrsi thinking about it. Also, they needed a way to secure you in flight. Probably had a blanket to carry you in. That’s why they needed three. To carry you.”

  Dime was going to let that last image pass for now. “So you’re an expert on fairies.”

  “No. But I’ve learned a lot from the pieces DC have put together. The fairies are different from us, but a lot the same too. You know, like norside pyrsi compared to Lodon or the plains. Different culture. Different reasons to be annoyed. Still pyrsi.”

  She felt comforted by Rock’s casual references to Dime as one of “us.” To Rock, Dime was who she’d always been. Yet that wasn’t all true. Nine cycles was a long time. If they were going to have any relationship now, as friends, it had to be based on who they were now. Except Dime was still figuring that out.

  Dime reached out and ran her fingers along one of the metal bars, slightly rough, and cool to the touch. She remembered what Rock had said. Diamond dust within the metal. Imbued somehow with valence. Her fingers tingled against the cool metal, and she withdrew them.

  Rock was one of the only pyrsi who knew about Dime’s pendant. Dime felt grateful that, for now, Rock hadn’t brought it up. Despite her bluster, Rock was always decent.

  Dropping heavier topics for a while, the two caught up. On life, on assignments, on pyrsi they’d independently met. Dime relaxed into the conversation, glad to have company again. Being alone was nice some of the time. But not all.

  Remembering she had her dice, she dug them out, and they played a few rounds of double-up, which was tricky since the game relied on bluffing. Rock kept glaring through the bars to make sure she could see her own rolls.

  Rock threw out her hand. “Shh. Guard. Turn away.”

  Securing the dice back into her pocket, Dime turned her chair away from Rock and tried to appear grumpy.

  Wayniam strode down the hall, two trays of food floating above his hands. The key flying in and out of his fingers, he opened the top sections of their doors and floated the trays in. Dime was mesmerized by the easy use of valence, though she tried not to show it to the guard.

  Unsure when he’d be back for the dishes, Dime and Rock ate in silence. The food was much better than she’d expected. After a while, he came back and whisked the trays out without a word. Dime waited until his footsteps faded away.

  “I don’t hear anyone else here,” Dime noted. It didn’t seem like they’d have an empty prison set aside, just waiting for intruding Ja-lal.

  “Oh, the rooms go back a ways, from what I’ve learned. The other pyrsi are in whole rooms, without cages. Just shaking something off or being taught a lesson. This is just a scary-looking front area, from what I can tell. Maybe it’s supposed to remind you to behave when you first walk in, but it’s only actually used for serious cases. Or pyrsi they haven’t figured out what to do with yet, or ones the Seats want to talk to. If they decide we’ve committed a crime, they could move us to the back for as long as they want.”

  “Yeah, let’s avoid that.” Dime voiced the thought aloud.

  “I’m glad you’re safe.” Rock sounded tired.

  “Thanks. I am too. It was a long fall down that cliff.”

  “You can’t keep bragging about that. It’s not even competent.”

  “I’m not bragging!” Annoyed at her raised inflection, Dime tried to steady her voice. “So, fairy expert. I have a decision to make. I either wait here, and hope the High Seat got my hint that he’d better come find me or I’ll spill their secrets. Or I let you help me break out, which I know you know how to do.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I actually do.”

  “Fine. What’s your goal?”

  “I need to talk to the High Seat. I’m not leaving Pito until I do.”

  “Hmm. And you already made it into their Chambers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then harm that.” Rock waved a hand in front of her face. “Get out of here. Show him you’re in control. Go see the city so you’re better informed. Or because you can. Then go back to Chambers once they’re in session. Walk in, all like, hey, what’s up.”

  Dime had been leaning the same way, but hearing Rock say it reassured her. Dime worried that her own reasons were more about being stubborn than wise, but—they couldn’t both be wrong, right?

  “Ok, so the bars are made with powdered diamonds and neither of us have valence. So, what do we do?”

  “First, we rely on our lack of valence. Keeps their guard down. I mean, these fairies think we’re animals. Not once they get to know us, but prejudices are hard to shake. So don’t get fancy with them.”

  “I did demand to see their leader.”

  “I said fancy. Not bold. Know the difference. Now, only one problem.”

&nb
sp; “What’s that?”

  “We have to wait for Waynie to come back—and we’re not staging some goofy emergency, because I have limits. Don’t want him getting suspicious, anyway. After that last meal, they leave us time to sleep. So, take a nap. Chill out. Whatever. Oh, one condition.”

  Dime tried not to let Rock see how much it amused her that she was demanding conditions while locked in a box. Guess that was bold, not fancy. “I’m listening.”

  “Condition is, I stay here. I don’t want them knowing we’re working together, just in case things go wrong. I’d like to keep my cover for now. See, they think they caught me spying in their city. They didn’t know I wanted to be taken here. Now that you’re safe, I’ll stick around and learn what else I can.”

  Rock rubbed her hand a little. “It’s like I heal faster here.” She glanced at Dime. “Oh, nothing to worry about; I was just messing with the lock and cut my hand. Do not challenge a diamond, by the way; the diamond will win.”

  “That’s what I’ve always said!” Dime followed it with a little whistle.

  “Stop that.”

  Rock spent a few strides searching through her pockets. Dime rolled her own sleeves up, looking at her cuts. They didn’t seem much different. She rolled them back down.

  “Hey,” Rock said.

  “Hey, what?”

  “The promise holds. Whatever happens in all this . . . same team?”

  “Sure, Rock.”

  Rock twirled something small in her hands. Dime watched her, not remembering her ever this uneasy. Whatever age granted in confidence, it did tend to exact payment in assuredness.

  “We’ll work together. I promise.”

  “Pssst. Sleepy.”

  “Hrmm?”

  “He’ll be back before too long. I need to give you something.”

  Dime didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep, but as her eyes opened, she saw metal bars, striping her view of the ceiling above, and felt the bed beneath her. Thin, but comfortable.

  “Come on, sit up. We should have done this by now, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Grumbling, Dime pulled herself to a seat. She’d even kicked her boots off; she found them and slid each back on.

  Rock was holding onto the bars, something grasped in her fingers. “I need to throw this to you. Now—and this is important—you have to catch it. If it falls out on the floor we’re in big trouble.” Rock pointed to the space between the cages.

  Dime waved her hand. “Don’t put that on me. Can you tie a string to it? I know you have a string.”

  Rock grimaced, but a moment later she’d tied a string to what looked like a long, narrow key. “Ready?”

  Dime nodded. Rock deftly threw the little key through the bars, where Dime missed it and it clattered to the floor.

  “Careful! Don’t break the glass!”

  Glass? As Dime untied the string, she noticed there was a crystal lodged in the key’s top. “Key swap?”

  “Don’t overcomplicate if you don’t need to.” Rock grinned as she whisked the string back into her own cage, wrapping it back around her fingers before pushing it into a pocket. “Do I need to explain this?”

  “No, I get it. Sol, Rock, he’ll really have to not be paying attention.”

  “It’s fine. They’re used to watching for valence. He won’t expect this. He’s looking for fancy.”

  “Not bold.” Dime couldn’t hold back a grin.

  She lodged the key into her sleeve, before taking a trip back to her commode.

  “They make Wayniam clean those too,” Rock called. “Dead caves are too sensitive for their cleaning crew. Like our dens. It’s quite the assignment.”

  Ella had mentioned the dead caves several times. Dime glanced around the blackened rock walls. More stories here, she supposed.

  It was at least another bell until the guard came meandering down the passage with two more trays of food hovering over his hands. He looked most annoyed to see the two fe’pyrsi in their cages, ironically, since surely he expected them to be there. Dime remembered to act like she was paying Rock no attention.

  “Hey, Wayn!” Rock called. He glared in her direction, almost with a hiss. His key flew into Rock’s cage door, and the top panel swung open. Wayniam guided one tray of food through the opening, landing it on her table. He closed the panel, and the key flew back into his grasp.

  He walked over to Dime’s cage. “You? Nothing to say?”

  Dime was looking down at the floor, a hand on her back. “Guard Wayniam, it feels like there’s a lump in this mattress. Could I get a new one?”

  Wayniam guided Dime’s meal tray onto a wood table not far from her cage. An extraordinarily old-looking one too; Dime had been curious how long it had been there.

  “Sit in the chair,” he commanded. “And promise me you won’t get up.”

  “I promise,” Dime reassured him, moving the chair away from the bed toward the front side of the cage and plopping down into it, sitting on her hands. “Look, right there. I didn’t want to get in trouble for messing with the bed, not when I’m waiting here for the High Seat.”

  Wayniam shook his head with deliberate incredulity. “You’re really serious about that? Keep waiting. Now, where?”

  Dime pointed to the foot of the bed, then sat back on her hands.

  The key flew from Wayniam’s hand and into the lock, clicking. Keeping an eye on Dime, he swung the door open, again without touching it, and walked in. Reaching the mattress and pressing his hands on it, Wayniam grunted. “Well. There’s just something in there. Give me a flap.”

  During the time Wayniam stuck himself half under the slightly levitating mattress, Dime reached over and switched out the key, shoving her hands back under her seat as Wayniam wriggled back out. His wings popped up behind him and he waved a small bag at her. “This was jammed in the slats.” He pulled open the drawstring and looked inside. “It’s a bag of nuts. Stashed away, I suppose. They still look good,” he added, clipping them to his belt.

  Dime scooted, still in the chair, back to the table, moving herself further away from the door. She angled the table in front of her as Wayniam waved the food tray into her cell and sat it down in front of her, a variety of food items jostling slightly as the tray clattered into place. Dime reached for a chunk of soft bread, tearing off a smaller piece. “Thank you,” she said. “Looks wonderful.”

  With a begrudging nod, Wayniam stepped back into the corridor. Rock’s key flew into his hands. In a moment of panic, Dime heard the door slam shut, but without the usual click. Without giving Wayniam time to consider it, she bounded from the chair and threw her fingers around the bars, one hand on the door and the other on its frame, ignoring the tingling that ran through her hands at the valence-charged cage.

  “Please, Guard Wayniam, tell the High Seat that I need to talk to him. It’s important.” She pretended to shake the bars, as if trying to open the door.

  “Ugh. Brutes.” Wayniam hurried back down the passage without another look.

  “Is he really going to eat those nuts?” Dime asked. They were perfectly fine and seasoned with Ella’s own spice rub. Still, Dime wasn’t sure she’d eat anything of indeterminate age found under a bed.

  “He will,” Rock said. “Without doubt.”

  “I don’t like messing with him,” Dime said with a sigh. “Feels dishonest.”

  “He locked you in a cage.”

  “Doesn’t impact my choices.”

  Rock groaned. “You were an agent for cycles, D. You supported this very sort of thing. Innocent pretense, in the name of peace. This is different?”

  “Well, I stopped.” Dime had done good, also. It was all, just, getting confusing.

  “The Circles want everything to be perfect. Life isn’t perfect. The world isn’t perfect. It’s our choices that matter. What we’re willi
ng to do and why. It’s taken me a long time to learn that, so don’t laugh at it. Hey. There’s more at stake here than Guard Wayniam. He’s not even that nice. It’s not like you knocked him over; you just stole his key.”

  Stole. Dime looked at the key in her hand.

  “Stop it! Go give it back, then. Or leave it there. Anyway, go find the High Seat. Before Grumpy Guard comes back for the dishes.”

  Turning the key in her fingers, Dime set it on the table. There was no way she was leaving a hunk of warm bread to cool. Dipping it into a little dish of spicy oil, she chomped the doughy bread down. Seeing a few other items that would keep, she nestled them in her bag, folding the serving paper around them as best she could.

  Not knowing what to say to Rock, and certain that, this time, they’d cross paths again, she gave the fe’pyr a curt nod and disappeared down the hall, the cage door clanging shut behind her.

  Dime wasn’t ready to be seen. With the patience of a master realms player using xyr spy, she crept down each passage. Hiding when needed, she slipped through dark corridors, avoiding those whose stones looked recently lit.

  She presumed that valence charged the glowing stones. It seemed that pyrsi could relight them, and over time they would fade. Anger rose in her, thinking what life would be like here without wings. Flying wasn’t everything; there must be ways to climb. But even the lights depended on valence, which depended on wings. Wings she’d been born with.

  Even the chandelier lights in Chambers had dimmed by the time she reached the large hall. A lone pyr swept the floor, but with a broom like a Ja-lal would, not with valence. The fairy’s wings were folded behind xem, swooshing in opposition as xe swept.

  Trying to imitate the accent Wayniam had used, Dime called around a bend. “Hi, there. I’m new with the guards and thought Wayniam would be here. When do they start up again?”

  “Wayniam?” Xe was trying to sound polite, Dime could tell, like xe might be talking to someone of higher rank. “He’s not here; he works in the dead caves. Chambers convene at first light, like always. But you need to report to the caves. No one allowed here.”