Relic

VIII: Aprilus 1 Year 242, A.H.

When I was eight years old, the year before Father was elected Chief Archon, Eamon and I climbed out onto the turret for the first time in one of many attempts to escape Mother’s tyranny. The Aerie and the Ring spread out before us, an infinite white. My Boundary Nurse Aga had secretly followed us, with a scolding finger in the air but an indulgent smile on her face; other than Eamon, my Nurse probably understood me best of all. Although I remember feeling scared of the heights, especially when the icy wind whipped my gown around my feet, I mostly remember feeling free.

Racing through the vast, empty expanse of New North, I feel like that eight-year-old girl all over again. Or I try to. I hold on to the joy of those memories, but the cold is already seeping into my bones. I can’t stop Lukas’s litany of instructions from creeping into my mind. What was it he said? Oh, right. Never let your mind drift because that’s when the snow drifts in.

In those few ticks that I allowed myself to daydream and actually enjoy the sensations, the snow turns. No longer masak, it is the slicker, harder quiasuqaq. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that the other Testors’ sleds don’t have the advantage of oiled runners. They gain on me.

I crack my whip in the air. My huskies respond immediately, but the other Testors are pushing their dog teams hard, too. Within a few ticks, I am flanked by three sleds.

Benedict and Thurstan charge ahead to my left—no surprise given their physical strength and years of training—but the scholarly Niels appears to my right. I resist the temptation to look at them. Instead, I squint through the slit in my goggles and survey the landscape. I need some kind of advantage.

The Gods smile down on me, the Sun in particular. In the land ahead, I see a change in the reflection of Her rays, something that I know Benedict, Thurstan, and Niels will miss because they wouldn’t deign to have a Boundary Companion like Lukas. This change in Her light means that after a slight rift in the ice flats, the snow will become masak again.

I hook the reins and my whip over the handle bar, and scramble for my side bag. Pulling out an oiled cloth, I drop to my knees—a dangerous move even when the sled isn’t racing at top speed. The sled jolts as we pass over an ice block, and I try to keep my balance as I rub the cloth over the sides of my runners. I hang on, but my thighs burn with the effort. Still, it’s a feat I could never have attempted several months ago, before Lukas’s training.

Before I get up, I take a quick look over at Benedict and Thurstan. I know I shouldn’t—it signals fear of the competition, Lukas says—but I can’t resist. Even though I can see only their eyebrows and a hint of their mouths, they seem shocked by my maneuver. And perplexed as to why I’d take such a risk.

Quickly, before we reach the rift, I stand back up and grab the reins. I need to make sure that the sled doesn’t tip when the snow shifts; the oil will help only once we’ve passed into the masak. I pull back on the reins, not exactly engaging the claw brakes but directing the dogs to take heed.

My pack slows ever so slightly as we cross over the rift.

Then we re-enter the masak. I crack my whip again, even though there is really no need; the dogs are smarter than I am about the snow. They tear across the ice flats even faster than when we first started out. I’m guessing that none of the other Testors have caught up with me, because after a time, I hear only the sound of the sled’s runners and the panting of my dogs.

After a few more ticks of quietude, my heart stops pounding. I’m pretty sure that I’m alone out here. But I need to be certain. I can’t turn around, as the motion might signal the dogs to slow or change course. Reaching into my side bag, I pull out my most prized and forbidden possession.

There is a slight thumping in my chest as I grasp the handle of my father’s Relic, the treasure that won him the spot as Chief Archon. It is a hand mirror. My father wrote a Chronicle about the mirror’s vice that perfectly encapsulated both the sins of the past and the purity of New North. And also made clear the critical importance of The Lex’s ban: make no mirrors and let none pass before your eyes, as they are the embodiment of Vanity.

Until now, for as long as I’ve been alive, we’d kept the Relic on our hearth and pointed toward the Sun. I am still shocked Father agreed to allow me to take it. My mother refused even to participate in the argument. But thank the Gods for Lukas. My Father, forbidden from participating in my training, saw the logic once Lukas explained what I could do with it.

“With this, Eva will have eyes in the back of her head.”

I hold the Relic in front of me and move it slowly from right to left, careful not to meet my own reflection. I discern nothing other than blinding whiteness behind me. Not even the faraway shadows of Benedict, Thurstan, and Niels in the snow.

I have regained the lead.