Incarnate

Chapter 7 Walls

AS WE BROKE through the forest, a white wall soared high into the air, like smooth clouds below the cobalt sky. It stretched in both directions as far as I could see, flowing like water on the dips and crests of the plateau that carried the city of Heart.

Gates of iron and brass guarded the Southern Arch into the city, but as wide as the entrance was, I couldn’t make out anything beyond. Just darkness.

“Look up.” Sam stood next to me, one hand twisted in Shaggy’s lead, and the other shoved into his pocket.

His cheeks were bright with chill, but his smile was wide and relaxed. Stubble darkened his chin like shadows, and his lips were chapped from wind. It had been a long walk, and he’d chatted constantly. He’d pointed out ruins, mostly derelict cabins, but there were a few mysterious mounds of rock. We’d walked by five immense graveyards, which we’d stopped to look at while he told me stories about the people buried there.

Apparently I hadn’t responded quickly enough. He glanced at me, his expression a cross between teasing and curiosity. “Not at me.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Look at Heart. Look up.”

Above the wall, an enormous tower jutted into the sky, taller than a hundred ancient redwood trees stacked on one another. It vanished into a cloud, white stone making that vapor look dirty in comparison. “What is it?” My chest felt too tight, like something squeezing and reminding me I was a nosoul. I resisted the urge to back away from it, lest it see me.

“The temple.” Now he peered at me with concern, something he did too much. “Are you okay?”

Evidently he saw nothing wrong with the tower, felt nothing wrong. So it was probably a side effect of my newness. “Yeah, of course.” I crossed my arms, mindful of my bandages. They were fewer today; the burns didn’t hurt nearly as much. Generous application of lotion helped. “So it’s a temple? For what?”

He started walking again, his gaze on the city. Or the temple. “It’s an old legend. Many stopped believing in it thousands of years ago.”

The reminder was a slap. He was old. He only appeared my age. “Why?”

“Because nothing ever happened, not once since we discovered Heart and made it our home.”

I searched my memory for anything about that, but Li’s library had been small. And if Sam had read anything about it in the cabin, it must have been one of the times I dozed off. “Maybe start from the beginning? What’s your very first memory?”

“Si—” He smiled and flipped a strand of hair off my face. “Maybe later. To be honest, some of the earliest memories are lost, which is one of the reasons we started keeping journals. The mind can hold a lot, but after a while, less important things fade to make room. You don’t have crystalline memories of everything in your life, after all. Or do you?”

I shook my head. There were some things I didn’t want to remember, either. How many memories had Sam willingly given up?

“One of the things everyone agrees on is that we started out in small tribes scattered across Range. Some say everyone appeared there, fully grown. Others insist that only a few did, and the rest were born.” He looked askance at me. “I don’t remember that at all. That truth is gone forever.”

“No one wrote it down?”

“We didn’t have writing yet. We had language, but I suppose we didn’t talk about it because we’d all been there. A lot of our early lives were focused on survival. It took time to learn what was safe to eat and what wasn’t, that not all the hot springs were safe to drink or bathe in, and the geysers — remind me later to tell you about the time one erupted while Sine was standing over it.” He started to grin, but other memories overshadowed whatever had been so funny about Sine’s misfortune. “We also had to focus on staying away from dragons and centaurs and… other things.”

“Sylph.”

He nodded. “We drew pictures in the dirt or on walls, but those weren’t permanent, and we couldn’t always translate one another’s — for lack of a better term — artwork. Things got lost and misinterpreted. I suppose we just gave up.”

“Okay.” As we neared the city, I could make out smaller metal tubes protruding from the southeastern quarter of the city. Antennae, perhaps, or solar panels. Maybe both. “So everyone was out wandering one day and you stumbled across Heart?”

“More or less. We fought over it for a while, before we realized how huge it is. There’s more than enough room for everyone.”

“Did that ever strike you as odd? That a city was waiting for you, complete with a temple right in the center?” I winced preemptively, but Li wasn’t here to hit me for my curiosity. Either Sam didn’t notice, or he was good at pretending.

“It should have, but we were so busy being grateful for shelter, we didn’t think about it. By the time we did, if there’d been a trace of a previous civilization, we’d destroyed it simply by living there. People still search for evidence, but there’s almost nothing in Heart.”

“Almost.”

“Well, there’s the temple, which is actually where we discovered writing.”

“But the books said—”

“That Deborl came up with the system? It’s not entirely false, but not accurate, either. He deciphered it. He’s always been good with patterns. There are words carved around the temple, which talk about Janan, a great being who created us, gave us souls and eternal life. And Heart. He was to protect us.”

I stared at the temple protruding from the center of the city. “None of that was in Li’s books.”

“Deborl has taken the liberty of editing a few things.” He tipped his head back, following my gaze. As we approached the city, the wall blocked more of the horizon. “At any rate, Janan never revealed himself to us, or helped during times of trouble.”

“Like drought and hunger, or some of the other year names?”

Sam nodded. “Exactly. The Year of Darkness was named because of a solar eclipse that happened early on. It seemed the entire sun went out. And Janan wasn’t there to help us when we were afraid.”

Until recently, no one had ever been around to help me when I was afraid, so the betrayal didn’t sit so sharply with me. But maybe it was different if someone promised, then didn’t follow through.

“The temple doesn’t even have a door. A few people firmly believe in Janan, and that he’ll return one day to rescue us from the terrors of this world, but most of us decided a long time ago that he wasn’t real.”

“But if what’s written on the temple is true — having souls, being reborn — doesn’t that mean he’s real too?”

“Maybe he was a long time ago. Some stories say he sacrificed his existence to create us, and that’s why there’s no door.” The sky vanished as we came to a stretch of barren land that ran up to the city wall. Steam puffed from a nearby hole in the ground. A geyser? “When it came time to write new copies of histories, some things got left out because people decided they weren’t real or important, which is why you’ve never heard about Janan.”

“You’ve said his name, though. You use it as a curse?”

He grimaced. “Some felt betrayed when Janan never saved us from griffin or centaur attacks. It’s been five thousand years, after all.”

I’d probably give up waiting on someone after that much time, too.

“It started out as a simple oath, not an imprecation, but it grew and became a habit some of us can’t shake.”

“The people who still believe in him probably don’t like that.”

Sam chuckled. “No, not really. Try not to pick up my bad habits if you want to stay on the Council’s good side. Meuric really believes.”

As I left the road, my boots crunched on the ground, an odd mix of ash and pebbles. Sulfur-reeking steam tickled my nose, but it blew toward the forest, leaving white deposits of rime on branches. I started toward the geyser — I wanted to look inside — but Sam touched my shoulder, silently reminding me of his cautions as we’d entered the immense caldera: The ground was thin in some places, and would crack and drop you in scalding hot mud before you could leap away.

Since he tended to keep silent when I did potentially stupid things like scramble up old rock walls to get a better view of our surroundings, I’d taken the warning about the ground seriously.

“So did you feel betrayed? About Janan, I mean.” I drifted toward the wall, like I’d been heading that way all along.

“A little. I wanted to believe we were here for a purpose.”

“I know that feeling.” The wall bore no cracks or dapples of color, and was as hard as marble when I removed a bandage to feel if it was as smooth as it looked. The sun-warmed stone was frictionless on my tender palm.

“Wait,” Sam said as I was about to withdraw. He stood unnervingly close. “Just a moment.” Then his hand rested on the back of mine, fingers threaded between mine, carefully. “Do you feel it?” More a breath than a whisper.

Feel what? His touch? Heat radiating off his body? I felt it all over.

The stone wall pulsed, like blood rushing through an artery.

I jerked back, away from Sam, away from the wall. Sunlight hadn’t warmed the stone; heat emanated from inside. “How did it do that?” I itched to scrub my hand on my trousers, but the new skin was too delicate to risk. Instead, I wrapped the bandage around it again, sloppily and likely to cut off circulation to my fingers.

His gaze followed my hands. “It’s always done that. Why?”

“I don’t like the way it feels.” I edged away, not that I knew where I’d go. Just away.

He followed my not-so-subtle retreat, glancing between me and the geyser at my back. “Why?”

I stopped and ordered myself to breathe when the ground thumped hollowly under my steps; it was too thin to stand on safely. After weeks, I was finally at Heart, and now I wanted to run? No. I’d come here to find out why I’d been born, and I wouldn’t let a stupid wall scare me away.

Sam offered his hands, still shooting worried glances at the ground. “Come on. We’re nearly home.”

His home. Right. Where I’d stay until the Council decided what to do with me. “Okay.” I didn’t take his offered hands.

Sam studied me a moment more, but nodded. “This won’t take long. I can open the gate, but I suspect they’ll want to log your entrance.” He gave an apologetic smile, so I didn’t complain about the unfairness. This time.

“Why do you keep them closed?”

He walked between the wall and me as we returned to Shaggy, who swished his tail and gazed longingly at the archway. “Mostly tradition. We haven’t had a problem with giants or trolls in the last few centuries, but there were years we had to barricade ourselves in. Centaurs, dragons — all sorts of things used to attack, not to mention the sylph. Now the edge of Range is better protected, but just because they haven’t tried in a while doesn’t mean they won’t again. We don’t want to be unprepared.”

There’d been drawings of battles in some of the cottage books, most involving liberal use of red ink. If I’d died in countless wars against the other inhabitants of the planet, I’d keep my doors shut, too.

The arch was tall and wide, and deep enough for ten people to stand abreast. Still creeped out by the pulse of the wall, I hugged myself and stayed in the center.

Beyond the iron bars, the archway opened into a wide chamber. “Guard station,” Sam explained. “And this is a soul-scanner, so the Council knows who is coming and going. There are a few around armories and places they don’t think everyone should have access to. Normally you’d have to touch it, too, but I assume you’re not in the database, so it wouldn’t do anything.” He pressed his palm on a small panel by the gate. It beeped, and a section of the gate swung open just as yellow light spilled across the floor and footsteps echoed.

A slender man, perhaps in his thirties, appeared. “Hey, Sam. Would have been here sooner, but Darce just gave birth to Minn — who’s a girl this time — and a bunch of us had to keep Merton from getting revenge on him while he’s still so young. Her. That might take some getting used to. Minn hasn’t been a girl in ten generations.”

Sam went first with Shaggy. I followed when the hooves were out of the way, and didn’t even have time to take in the sparse furnishings before all eyes fell on me.

“Speaking of getting used to.” The stranger glanced at Sam, then back to me. He wore loose-fitting pants and a heavy, button-up brown shirt. The afternoon was warm enough to make coats unnecessary. “Ana, right?”

As if there were a question. He’d known because I hadn’t touched the soul-scanner, then started gossiping to make me feel excluded. I lifted my chin like I was about to come up with a brilliant retort, or like Sam might say something, but neither happened, and the stranger and I just watched each other, stares slowly turning into glares.

Shaggy broke the silence with a long sigh.

The guard turned back to Sam. “Still doesn’t talk, hmm? Sad.” He retreated to a wooden desk shoved against the city wall. A slim, flickering screen rested in the center — it was blank — and a few neat stacks of paper sat around that. He flicked on the lamp and leaned against the desk, casting shadows.

Sam hauled his bags off Shaggy, grunting between words; otherwise, his tone was congenial. “Actually,” I said, “I think she was waiting for you to give her your name.”

“Actually, I don’t care.” I took a bag from Sam, transferring it to my shoulder with minimal use of my hands. The one bandage was coming undone from where I’d been sloppy about rebinding it. “But I do talk, and have for quite some time.”

Sam turned his head as though to hide his smirk.

“Well then, glad to hear. I’m Corin.” The guard offered a palm, which I didn’t take, just held up my bandages. “What happened to your hands?”

“Burned them.”

“She rescued me from a sylph.” Sam didn’t mention how he’d rescued me from the sylph, too, and the lake before that, or how he’d been taking care of me for almost three weeks. It was nice of him to make me sound brave.

Corin whistled. “Impressive, but you know he’d come back, right?”

Eventually, sure, but not in time to save me from everyone treating me like Corin was. I hefted the new bag on my shoulder and addressed Sam. “It’ll be time for supper soon.”

He had little reason to play as my ally, considering he’d known Corin for five thousand years and my “saving” of him was only one small thing, but for whatever reason, he did, and I could have hugged him for it. “You’re right. It’s been a long walk from the edge. Can we catch up another day, Corin? Ana and I still have to unpack.”

The guard shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I mean, you can go, Sam”—he jerked his chin toward the open door at the end of the long room—“but Ana hasn’t been cleared.”

“What?” Sam’s tone was suddenly less pleasant.

The extra bag dug painfully into my shoulder. “I thought you just had to write my name in a ledger or something. What do you mean cleared?”

“For entrance into the city. You aren’t a citizen.”

“I was born here.” Surely everyone knew that. Li had told me how they’d all come by to ogle the nosoul, and that was one of the reasons she’d taken me away. Not just to hide her shame, but, she insisted, to protect me.

“You aren’t documented as being a legal resident of Heart.”

“But I was born here!”

“She’ll stay as my guest.” Sam edged closer to me, as if proximity would convince anyone. “We’ll work out citizenship in the morning.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” Corin crossed his arms. “You know I would if I could, but it’s against the rules.”

“What rules? There are no rules about who gets into Heart.”

Corin swiped papers off the desk and thrust them at Sam. “The Council passed it a few years ago. Weren’t you paying attention? In order to enter Heart, one must be a citizen, and in order to be a citizen, one must have owned a home in the city for the last hundred years.”

Sam dropped his bags on the floor — I put mine down a little more carefully — and grabbed the papers, reading quickly. “This is ridiculous.” He hurled the papers across the room. They fluttered and whispered against one another before settling on the smooth floor. “Call Meuric. Call the entire Council. Tell them to get here immediately.”

“They’re in session. Ana is free to stay in the guard station tonight; there’s a more than adequate bunk that way.” He pointed somewhere beyond me. “I doubt anyone will protest.”

The last thing I wanted to do was stay in the guard station all night. I’d feel safer by the geyser. I’d feel safer at the bottom of Rangedge Lake. “Sam—”

He shook his head. “You’re coming home with me, no matter what anyone says.”

I could run for the door and try to get lost in the streets — probably not hard — but the million to two odds weren’t good. Sam and I would get caught and put in prison, so my only good choice was to let him handle this. I hated that choice.

“Sam,” Corin said, “calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal my foot!” Sam seized Corin’s sleeve and hauled him across the room. They were just out of earshot if they spoke quietly, which they did. I hated that too, but I didn’t want to make Sam look bad by stomping after them and demanding to be included in the conversation.

While Sam no doubt told Corin all about how I needed help and didn’t trust anyone, I sat at the desk and unwound my bandages. My hands looked better. Pink, with sensitive skin, but we’d been careful about keeping them clean while we traveled, especially after the blisters burst. I felt like a fool for having believed Li’s lie about sylph burns never healing. Soon, I’d be well enough to hurl rocks at her if I ever ran into her again.

Angry whispers sizzled across the guardroom, too obscured for me to understand. I sifted through the papers on Corin’s desk, finding shift schedules and other mundanities. It looked like whoever lived closest to each of the guard stations was responsible for keeping an eye on it while they were in residence. They rotated days with a few others, but overall it didn’t look like a difficult job, so long as you remembered the rule: Anyone but Ana was allowed to come into the city.

“Alone in the woods? It’s midwinter.” Corin’s surprised hiss made me stiffen, but I didn’t look behind me. Sam didn’t need to know I’d heard anything of his secret meeting.

The stack of papers at the back of the desk had lists of armories throughout Heart, and the contents. Now that was interesting. Old catapults and cannons, newer armored vehicles and air drones. Laser pistols. I had no idea what half these things were, but I flipped through the pages. Maybe Sam could tell me, or I could find something in the library — if I was ever allowed farther than the guard station.

“Okay.” Corin stalked up behind me and ripped the papers from my hands. “Those aren’t for you.”

“Don’t worry.” I stood and glanced at Sam, who was digging his SED from his bag. “Li never taught me how to read.”

Sam snorted and strode to the other side of the room to call the Council.

It took half an hour for people to start arriving. Corin had taken Shaggy and the travel supplies to the stable nearby, making Sam and me promise not to leave. And we didn’t, because I knew Sam wouldn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t feel like wandering the city without him.

The first to arrive was a woman in her late eighties, perhaps. Since Li had kept me away from everyone, all I had to go on was pictures of people at various ages; guessing was tricky. This woman had gray hair pulled into a taut bun. Shallow wrinkles spiderwebbed across her face but made her look more dignified than old. She introduced herself as Sine and took a seat in one of the chairs along one side of the guard station.

Geyser-incident Sine. Huh.

Meuric came next. He looked younger than fifteen, but aside from emergencies, you had to be past your first quindec to hold a job because of physical size and hormones. At least that was what I’d heard.

Though Meuric was only my height and kind of pointy with that chin and those elbows, his deep-set eyes showed his true age. The way he looked at me, I’d never felt more insignificant. Sam had said Meuric was the leader of the Council, so he was the one I really had to impress.

Frase, who’d been the one to tell Li about Ciana, and Antha joined them.

Sam said, “Clearly this rule was made to keep Ana out of Heart. It’s cruel and unfair to exclude her simply because she hasn’t been alive for five thousand years.”

Meuric scratched his chin and looked thoughtful. “If I recall, that was because no one was sure whether more newsouls would be born. What happens if Ana isn’t the only one? Do we find housing for all of them? Can our community support them?”

Sam shot me a warning glance before I could open my mouth.

Them. I crossed my arms and stood by my bags. There wasn’t a them. There was only me.

“This wasn’t to segregate Ana, but to protect our city.” Antha ran her fingers through her hair. “You remember how clumsy we were with Heart when we first arrived? We were so young, as Ana is now.”

“I’m not going to break your city.” I scowled, ignoring Sam’s pleading look. “I don’t want to change anything or disrupt your routines.”

“You already have,” said Frase. “Simply by existing.”

“Blame Li and Menehem. I had nothing to do with that.” I tried to make myself taller, but standing next to Sam, that was pointless. “It seems to me you’re changing and disrupting your own lives because of my existence more than I have. I’ve been away for eighteen years, and you’re making laws when I’m out of sight—”

“What I think Ana is trying to say,” Sam interrupted, “is aside from being born, which she couldn’t help, she hasn’t disturbed anyone.”

“Except Li,” said Antha.

Sine nodded. “Li chose to face her responsibility, unlike Menehem. That was noble of her.”

That was not the story I’d heard.

“If Li hadn’t,” Sam said, “someone else would have. Someone, maybe, who realized that in a few years Ana would grow up and become a member of our community. She has her own useful skills, but she can’t contribute unless someone allows her.”

“Would you have taken her in?” Meuric mused. “No, you were an infant then, too. That was quite a year, if I recall. You the first day, and Ana a few weeks later. Two births that year. I remember because I died three days after Ana arrived. Shock is bad for old hearts.”

I glanced at Sam; he’d said we shared a birthday, hadn’t he? Why would Meuric say something different?

Sam didn’t seem to notice. “If I could have, I would have, but as you said, I was incapable of caring for anyone. I’m offering now.”

“And the fact that the law prevents her from living in the city?” Meuric asked.

“How many other newsouls have been born in the last eighteen years?” Sam’s voice was as hard as ice. “She’s the only one. The law was made against her. It’s inhospitable at best, and a death sentence at worst, especially since we don’t know if she’ll be reincarnated. And I believe there’s another law about that.”

I watched Sam, hoping for answers to a million questions — there was a law about my death? — but he didn’t acknowledge my stare.

The Councilors glanced at one another. Sine shrugged first. “I wasn’t for the law in the first place. If Sam wants to care for Ana, he should be allowed. She’s not hurting anyone.” She sent me a warm smile, but I couldn’t bring myself to return it.

Meuric nodded. “I suppose it would be a chance for young Ana to have a bit more guidance. Li was no doubt a capable teacher, but perhaps Sam will be able to help Ana find who she is so she can, as he said, become a contributing member of the community.”

“I don’t need another parent,” I started, but Sam interrupted me again.

“Then you’ll rescind the law?” If he wasn’t on my side, I’d hit him for talking over me all the time. How could I be my own person if I didn’t have a voice about my own life?

“Frase? Antha?” Meuric glanced at the other two Councilors. “We need a unanimous vote, since the others aren’t here.”

“On the condition that she obey a curfew and submit to lessons and tests.” Frase leveled his gaze on Sam. “To ensure that Ana has a quality education, of course. If she’s reincarnated after she dies, then we’ll have gained a valuable new voice. If she isn’t, well, we all know how Sam enjoys taking on new projects. This should keep him busy for a lifetime, and should any more newsouls appear, he’ll have the experience to aid them as well.”

I squeezed my hands together behind my back. The sting of raw flesh was the only thing that kept me grounded. I wasn’t a project. I wasn’t an experiment. I wasn’t a blasted butterfly.

“That sounds reasonable to me.” Antha lifted her chin and looked at me. “Will you abide by these conditions?”

My jaw hurt from clenching it, but I stopped myself from checking with Sam to see what he thought. I didn’t need his guidance. “Sure.”

“Then it’s settled.” Meuric used the arms of his chair to push himself up. “Ana will stay with Sam as his student. Progress reports will be expected and reviewed by the Council monthly. Why don’t you both come by the Councilhouse in the morning. Tenth hour. We’ll introduce everyone else and finish working out the details.”

Not a question or invitation.

After a round of overly polite welcomes — welcome home and welcome to Heart — the Councilors left, Corin left, and Sam and I picked up our bags.

He met my eyes briefly before motioning me to the door, and I couldn’t tell whether he was satisfied with the verdict or not until he said, “They planned that.”