Shadows of Glass (23 page)

“Like the gliders?” Zan asks.

“Exactly like the gliders,” I realize. “It was the same, except they would tie ropes
around their waists and someone held onto them so they wouldn’t fall into the hole
when the wind died.”

“It sounds terribly exciting,” Zan says, and I wonder if she is serious. After all,
I did see her fly with the gliders the night we met. Maybe to her doing such a thing
is normal. “Did you ever do it?”

“No,” I admit without giving a reason for my fears. There was something about falling
that scared me. It is not about the height; after all, I loved being on the rooftops.
But falling into the unknown terrifies me. “But Adam and James have,” I say. “Alcide,
I think. I’m not sure about Peter.”

“And not Pace or Jon.”

“No, they are both from the dome.”

“Tell me about Adam,” Zan asks. “He seems so sad.”

“He was newly wed when the flood happened. His wife was killed.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. Did you know her? Of course you did. You had to know everyone.”

“She was my best friend,” I admit. “And James’s sister.”

Zan does not bother to hide her gaze from James. “No wonder he seems so angry.”

To my mind, angry is putting it mildly. James is more like an explosive with a very
short fuse, but I say nothing. Just because James and I do not get along does not
mean that he will have the same result with everyone. We have very valid reasons for
not liking each other.

“Alcide is funny,” Zan continues. “And Pace is quite intelligent.”

“His mother is a governess,” I say. “He grew up taking the same lessons as the royals.”

“It’s more than that,” Zan says. “He is observant. And he picks things up rather fast.
My father said he had never seen anyone take to shooting so fast. He said he showed
him one time, everything about handling a pistol, and he duplicated it properly the
first time he attempted it. He called it a photographic memory, because it is just
like taking a photograph with your mind. And the things he’s taught Pip. That requires
extraordinary patience.”

“He had quite a bit of time with him when he was hiding in the tunnels,” I explain.
It’s strange hearing someone else sing Pace’s virtues. Especially when it is things
I had not noticed about him myself.

“He seems confident that Pip will always return when he sets him loose,” Zan observes.

“He has so far,” I say as I search the skies for that tiny flash of yellow. “I hope
your father and the rest don’t run into any problems out there.” I don’t want to say
outright that I’m worried about Pace, especially since I can’t seem to take my eyes
off Levi, yet I am. We have no idea of how many rovers are out there or how far away
their camp is.

“My father will take every precaution necessary, and they are well armed,” Zan assures
me as Rosalyn walks up. She is wearing a woven hat with a wide brim, and she hands
a similar one to me.

“Jane said to wear this to keep the sun off our faces.”

I put on the hat and grin ruefully at Zan. “What is it made of?” I ask.

“Straw,” Zan says. “Its starts out as something similar to grass, and when it’s dried
it is used for animal bedding. Or hats. Baskets too.”

“It’s a godsend as far as I’m concerned,” Rosalyn says. “I’d like to learn how to
make hats and baskets from straw. I also want to learn how to use one of those things,”
she says, motioning to the bows the men are now testing. “If we are at risk I want
to be able to defend myself and the children.”

“And you shall,” Zan says with a dazzling smile. We gather up the remaining string
and go to join the men.

*   *   *

The tip of my nose burns and the muscles of my arms ache. I can tell by the way Rosalyn
moves that she feel the same. Yet we share a victorious smile because we finally were
able to hit the target consistently with our arrows.

“Well done!” Jane exclaims at our last volley as she walks up to where we all stand
in a line. Levi has been a hard taskmaster, teaching us to shoot and then making us
back up several paces in between each volley so that we are able to gain accuracy
with distance.

And I was very conscious of him every time he came near to show me how to pull back
the bowstring and aim the arrow. Even now I cannot take my eyes off him as he yanks
the arrows free of the rotten log we’d used as our target and examines the points
of them. He still has his shirt off, while the rest of the men have long ago put theirs
on to protect their skin.

“I don’t know about you,” Zan says. “But I could do with a bath.”

“It sounds like an answer to prayer,” I say and hope I don’t sound too anxious or
the smell coming from my body is not the reason she recommended one.

Zan gives me a sly wink and calls out to the men. “If you will give me your shirts
I’ll have them washed while you bathe.” In a much quieter voice she turns to me. “Would
you like your things washed too?”

“That would be wonderful,” I admit. “But I have nothing else to wear.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Zan says. “I have plenty. I’m sure we can find something
you’d like.”

Rosalyn leaves with Jane while Zan and I go to the men, who are hastily removing their
shirts once more. They reek of sweat and smoke, yet they are all grinning as if they’d
just fought a battle and won. I don’t blame them. I feel much better about things
since we are now armed with weapons we can actually use. I look down the road where
I last saw Pace. I would feel much better if he were back now.

“It’s nice of you to offer,” Adam says to Zan as he hands her his shirt.

“It’s for my own self-preservation,” Zan says with a laugh. “I’m tired of smelling
you.”

“It’s not like she’s actually going to do the washing,” Levi says. He bends to pick
up his long forgotten shirt, and I try not to stare at the scars on his chest as he
hands it to Zan. “Please?” he says with a charming smile when she hesitates.

James deliberately mops the sweat from his chest before he drops it into Zan’s arms
and she makes a face at him, and then turns away to roll her eyes at me. Behind her
back I observe James slyly trying to smell himself.

Zan and I go to the airship with Jonah scampering along after us. We pass off the
dirty clothes to the steward. “They will more than likely need a salve for their skin
also,” Zan tells the steward.

“I will take care of it ma’am,” he says.

“Let’s go to my room so you can take yours off for washing,” Zan says. “You can have
the first bath.”

We go to Zan’s room with Jonah trailing after me, curiously meowing as he looks at
all the strange new things around him. Zan’s room is somewhat neater now than it was
the first time I came in. Several pieces of clothing are laid out on her bed and I
look on them with obvious envy. I have never paid much attention to how I look or
what I wear because I cannot change my looks and I only have enough clothes to cover
me and keep me warm. The one dress I had, given to me by Lucy for my grandfather’s
funeral, was caught up in the flood. Some clothes from our village washed through
to the beach, but my dress was not among them. To have so many things that you could
wear something different every day is a luxury I have never imagined.

Zan goes into the water closet and turns the water on to fill the tub. I watch as
she pours in something from a bottle that smells exquisitely wonderful and bubbles
surge up beneath the flow of the water. “Go ahead and get in,” she says. “I’ll come
back for your clothes.” She leaves and shuts the door.

I cannot get out of my clothes quickly enough. The water is so blessedly warm. I’ve
never felt anything like this before as I sink into the water and smell the freshly
sweet fragrance that surrounds me. I can feel my muscles turning limp beneath the
water. Jonah jumps onto a stool that sits by the tub and sniffs at the bubbles. I
flick my finger at him and some land on top of his head. He shuts his eyes at the
offense and sits there with a crown of bubbles on his head, so I laugh.

Zan knocks on the door and sticks her head in. “How is it?” she asks as she gathers
my clothes up from the floor.

“Wonderful,” I say.

She points out a bottle on the side of the tub. “That is for your hair,” she says,
and she points to a faucet that has a long flexible pipe attached to it. “Turn that
on for rinsing,” she explains and points to a shelf beside the tub. “Towels for drying
are there.”

“Thank you, Zan,” I say with genuine gratitude.

“It’s my pleasure,” she replies with a grin. “It’s nice having another girl around.
I can help you fix your hair if you’d like,” she adds.

“I’d like that very much.”

It is hard not to feel guilty at the luxury that surrounds me. I cannot help but think
how excited Peggy would be if she’d actually seen something like this. How she would
squeal in delight at the clothes and the bath. How she would glow and want to look
so very special for Adam. I wish she could see it. I wish there was some way she could
know that we did make it out.

Thoughts of Peggy lead me around again to wondering about Lucy, David, and the others
still inside. To attempt to go back inside seems to me as impossible as our escape,
yet escape we did, after paying a very high cost. What if going back in costs us more?

The water is cooling, so I set about the business of washing my hair and my body,
once more amazed at the ease and luxury at the fingertips of the Hatfields. Is this
the way the royals live? I think not. I think they lived a better life than me, but
they are still limited by the walls of the dome.

How do you measure the value of a life lived? Is it the items you surround yourself
with? Is Zan a better person than Peggy because she has riches and knowledge and has
explored the world? I think not. Still, I think Zan is a good person because even
though she has riches, she is generous with them. She is genuinely concerned with
our problems as is her family. They opened their home to us and shared food, shelter,
protection, and are helping us to be able to survive when they leave. Her father has
willingly put himself in danger by going out to search for the rovers’ village.

Not too much danger
, a little voice inside my head reminds me. Because Pace is with him.

Who determines that one person is better than another? My father thinks he can, because
of his bloodline and because of his position. He makes decisions for everyone inside
the dome. He decided that Alex’s life was forfeit to keep the secret. He decided that
Pace and mine were too. He decided that the lives of every shiner in the tunnels were
forfeit, even though it meant there would be no coal to run the fans. And now he is
still deciding for everyone. If everyone whom he is making decisions for had the facts,
I wonder what their decisions would be.

Two hundred years ago a group of scientists, and probably the royals along with them,
decided that they should be protected at all costs. I would say that the ones who
were chosen, or maybe privileged, to serve at the time were grateful for their lives.
But that doesn’t mean that the rest of us that followed along should have to continue
to pay the price for our forefathers’ lives.

Everyone should be able to choose their own path. I chose mine and people died because
of it. But my choice was to make things better for all of us, not just for me. Does
that make me any different than the creators of the dome? Than my father? It’s a question
that will forever be unanswered, because no one will know for certain. They will only
have their opinion of my choices, just like I have mine of the ones others made.

If the royals choose to stay inside, then fine, they are welcome to, but there are
those who want to come out also. But will they be better off outside? Without the
Hatfields’ arrival, how would we survive? Would we have been able to? I’d like to
think so. But I also like the fact that I can take a warm bath and put on clean clothes
when I am done and know that there is a meal being prepared for me to eat. I cannot
expect the Hatfields to support everyone that wants to come out of the dome. All I
can do is learn from them and hope that the things I learn will help everyone survive.

If anyone does want to come out of the dome, they should know that it is not the paradise
that any of us imagined. I suspect that some may be disappointed. But there is no
turning back now. Our fate, no matter the cost, now lies outside the dome.

17

“
How will you know
if your father is all right?” I ask Zan. “Haven’t they been gone a very long time?”
I sit on a stool in front of a floor-length mirror while she combs out my hair as
I once more savor a piece of cinnamon toast. I am certain that if I could choose to
have only one thing to eat for the rest of my life it would be cinnamon toast. I love
the taste of it, especially when it is warm and covered with butter. How can I have
become so spoiled in such a short amount of time, to crave something so luxurious
that I will never taste again once the Hatfields leave us?

I wipe the butter that drips down my chin and catch sight of my reflection in the
mirror. I have never seen my entire body reflected back at me before. I have never
known what other people see when they look at me. I was always told I look like my
mother, with my dark brown hair that has a mind of its own and my brown eyes that
are not as dark as Zan’s and Levi’s because of the shine in my eyes. I feel very decadent
at the moment, with Zan combing out my hair while I wear a robe of purest white that
is so very soft against my skin. Zan gave me lotion to rub into my skin that takes
away the sting of the sun. She gave me a brush to clean my teeth with, along with
a paste and a rinse that has my mouth tingling. I never dreamed of such luxuries,
not even in my wildest imaginings of the royals’ lives, and yet here I sit, wiping
butter from my chin.

“I know you are worried about Pace,” Zan says. “But don’t. I am certain he is having
the time of his life with my father. And in answer to your question, we use pigeons,”
Zan explains. “We have several of them. They live in cotes on the back of the cabin.
My father takes one with him and sends a message back tied around their legs. They
always fly back to the airship, no matter where we land. It’s an instinct that they
have that I can’t explain.”