Relic

XL: Maius 20 Year 242, A.H.

Above my bowed head, I hear the Chief Basilikon’s words ring throughout the pristine cavernous walls of the Basilika—the most holy place in the Aerie. One cannot enter its massive inner sanctum without sensing that the Gods are there, too. The Sun: through the ice windows far overhead. The Earth: clumped into ancient brown mud that serves as the Chief Basilikon’s Highest Altar. The Moon: a sliver through the Moon-holes that line the wall. Now more than ever I feel the Gods’ presence. But now, for the first time, I want to shout at them for answers.

“On this morning, we say a special blessing for our new Archon, Eva. Soon, she will embark upon her training, and we ask the Gods for their mercy and counsel as she does. For New North needs a Lex-guided leader.” The Chief Basilkon’s voice is like a hot bath. He waves incense over me.

In the rear of the chamber, I hear the Aerie people chant back, “We ask for your blessing, O Gods.”

“Archon Eva, you may rise,” the Basilkon says.

The Sun’s rays, stained blue and red from their passage through the ice windows, warm my cheeks. I know it is Her signal to arise from my genuflection and face the worshippers. As expected from a Maiden and an Archon, I smile in what I hope looks like benevolent thanks for their prayers during this special ceremony just for me. Truly, no matter my misgivings, I am thankful for their wishes. In their faces—my parents, their friends, and all the rest—I see their hopes for the future of New North. And in Jasper’s face, I see his aspirations for a future Union. I see truth and stories in all.

But I’m not sure I can give them what they want. I am the lone fraud.

TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT for which I’ve been waiting twenty-one days. The Moon has shown Herself in full for the first time since Lukas left. I finally have enough light to make my way to the secret opening in the Ring.

It seems that Lukas is right. The truth is worth the risk.

The past twenty-one days have been interminable. I thought that I’d acted at my life before—as a Maiden, a Testor, as a sister past her grief. But I really had no idea what it meant to play a role. Not until the tick I left Lukas on the turret with my Apple Relic and I was forced to pretend to be Eva the Archon, Eva the dutiful daughter, Eva the possible Betrothed. Even though absolutely everything had changed.

The days of so-called freedom before I enter my Archon training have become a prison. I must abide by the rules of my parents’ household, the directives of the Aerie society, and the edicts for Maidens before marriage. I must pretend I don’t question The Lex, my community, the very history of the Healing, the truth of my people.

During these long days, I learned that I’m not good at the charade. In my siniks beyond the Ring, I lost the knack for a double life. So aside from required public engagements, I took exile in this journal and the quiet places of the Aerie. I frequented the diptych in my bedroom and prayer nooks of the Basilika, and everyone acted as though I was purifying myself for the Archon training. It enabled me to avoid Jasper, too. It wasn’t simply that I can’t face the marriage plans. I’ve felt a connection I can’t even articulate with Jasper since that last sinik of the Testing. A Union could represent everything good about life in the Aerie. He’s been so supportive since our return, appearing at my side at public events and meals and ceremonies. But I would be unable to hide this change in myself from him for very long.

Even now I feel torn. Yet I know what I must do, even though it means I must leave behind all that I’ve known and loved. I tell myself I have no choice.

After Evensong bell, I retire to my bedroom, allowing Katja to disrobe me and bundle me into my bedclothes like a baby. The very tick she closes the door behind her, I slide out of bed and into my Testor uniform. I will need its warmth as I cross over into the Boundary lands.

Creaking my bedroom door open as slowly as I dare, I pad down the corridor in my kamiks. I’ve already prepared an excuse should I get caught—I’m mourning Eamon out here on the turret, in our old place—but no one appears as I mount the icy stairs. Reaching into my Testor pack, I pull out an ice screw and carefully twist it into a crevice between the turret tower stones. Once it’s secure, I feed the line through the harness I’m wearing under my sealskin cloak and back into the hole. Then I throw the line over the turret wall and belay down.

It’s surprisingly easy. As if I was born for this task.

Mapping out the shadows of Her Moonlight across the Aerie, I dart from one darkened corner to the next. Not a soul appears from a home or Keep or town building, not even a Guard. The Aerie is asleep, it seems. Or following The Lex, at least.

In two bells, I reach the base of the Ring. I still need to skirt a very exposed expanse of ice and snow to reach the tiny gap in the Ring that Lukas described. As I wait and watch for the Guards patrolling the rim of the Ring to pass, I realize this is the spot where Eamon fell to his death. I imagine that I can see the smear of blood that for so long stained this section of the Ring, although I know it’s been washed away.

I stop. I’m not certain I can press forward. Can I really I pass directly under the place where my brother died? How can I not, after coming so far? As I debate, the shadow of a single Guard appears over the flat white surface of the Ring wall. After his lamplight flickers by, I steel myself and make a run for it.

I count off the ticks necessary to reach the gap—ticks that Lukas painstakingly described—but I don’t see the opening. Could I have passed it? I retrace my steps, but I still can’t find it. I start to panic, and consider returning home, when I see a black fissure in the Ring’s wall of ice. I’d discounted it initially because it resembles nothing more than a springtime ice crack. But when I squint more closely, it seems wide enough to squeeze through. Lukas had mentioned that the aperture was narrow, but this is dangerously so. Pushing myself along, the gap compresses even farther. It’s tight against my chest, and I’m left gasping for air. Any sane person would abandon the attempt as futile. Maybe that’s how the Boundary people have protected this pass for so long.

Without warning, the gap opens. There, in a sizable subterranean cave in the base of the Ring, stands Lukas. Broad shoulders and black hair—but stronger and more substantial than he ever seemed in the Aerie. He has waited for me.