Wings of Creation (35 page)

“Maybe Ming is dancing up there.”

“Maybe she is. I still have to go find out if we have any friends.” Although Amile had said he would find us. Well, when you don’t know what to do, do something. “If Amile finds you, ask him more. See if he can help us find the others.”

Bryan nodded.

I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He just kept moving for a breath, taking another step, intent on seeing through the varied assortment of bodies and wings between us and the music. I did it again, and this time he stopped and looked at me, his eyes sad and angry. He bent down and returned the kiss, cheek for cheek, his lips dry against my warm skin. “Be careful,” he whispered. “Don’t do anything . . . anything you shouldn’t.”

I grinned. “I won’t take too many risks. Stay in this general area. I’ll be back in an hour. No more.”

“I hope I find Ming.”

“I hope the music’s good.” Someone behind us bumped into me, exclaiming. I slid away before they could grab what they couldn’t see, then stood at the edge for a moment, watching Bryan’s back. He looked strong from this angle, all muscle and brawn, his movements exact as always. But ever since we’d left the Gardens of Earthly Delight and Morning Ceremonies, he’d seemed to get smaller and more lost.

But then, he’d done a pretty adult job on Jackson. Maybe I was underestimating him. After he partly disappeared behind a flier with pale gold and blue wings, I faded farther back, then jogged toward Amile’s booth, careful not to step where I’d leave footprints.

I managed not to run into anyone before I made it back to the entrance. The sculptors had stopped, the crowds watching them all dispersed. The work in progress had been covered for the night, and so had the tables in Jackson’s booth. Almost half the nearby booths had been closed down, so it didn’t look unusual.

I ghosted into the tent where we’d fought. Blood still stained the grass, but there was no sign of Amile, or anyone else. Now what?

When I first came here, I wanted an interface. I knelt down and opened the top of one of the merchandise boxes that lined the tent.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I leapt sideways and ran into the hard edges of two invisible palms. “Induan!”

“Shhhhh . . .” and lower, so low I could barely hear it, “Follow me.” Her hand grabbed mine, and we went out the front door and out of the gates of the festival. I followed Induan’s lead and did my best to walk soundlessly. Even invisible, it was possible to see us if you knew how to look. Most people would never manage it, but heat could give us away, or a blur as we passed in front of something colorful, or a faint flicker as the mod adjusted to a complex set of inputs. She was better at finding me than I was at finding her.

Her goal seemed to be to get us as far away from people as she could. We turned east out of the gate and crossed the road we’d come in on, and climbed a low hill. From here, the huge festival was laid out below us, too far away for fine detail, but now that I’d been there I could pick out a few locations; the gates, the burning-fliers sculpture, etc.

She let go of my hand. Since she kept her mod on, I kept mine going, too. We’d moved enough to stay charged. Her words came out soft, even though she’d clearly picked this place because no one was near or would be near. “Stay away from the webs here. Marcus is right. I don’t want you caught, too.”

She’d been in the group that left with my sweetheart. “Is Joseph okay? And Kayleen, and Marcus?”

“I saw them yesterday. They were okay then.”

Good enough. “Bryan’s down at the fair. Will he be safe?”

“Maybe not.”

Her answer didn’t surprise me. “What about the others? Do you know where they are?”

“I know who has them. It’s people from Silver’s Home pretending to be from Islas. But there’s more than that looking for you. Some of the Star Mercenaries.”

Who really were from Islas. “We’re that important?” “You’re wild cards for both sides. There’re also people of Marcus’s trying to find you all, and Seeyan, and the other Keepers. All for better things, I think. I hope. I’m not sure they’re all talking to each other.”

The night was warm, but the idea of so many people hunting me gave me goose bumps that were half fear and half excitement. “Who do you trust?” I asked her.

“I think I trust us. Marcus and Jenna and us. Maybe not even Dianne and Ming.”

“Me, too. Except Marcus. I don’t know if I trust him. He’s part of all this craziness about telling stories on us, making Chelo and Joseph bigger and brighter than they are.”

She was quiet for a moment. The lights below us grew stronger, the shadows blending onto the darkness of the ground, the sky still streaked with color even though the last radiant edge of the sun had gone below the horizon even from up here on our hill.

Induan must have stood up, because her voice came from above me. “The stories are a strategy. Life on Silver’s Home is so busy it’s hard to catch attention. So Marcus uses stories. They’re remembered. For example, he’s used stories to make people aware of the fliers. There were already stories about their beauty, and the pain they
have, but all the stories the fliers tell say that’s okay—that the pain is needed for the beauty. But that’s not true. So Marcus spread stories about how it didn’t have to be that way. I think that’s how the fliers decided they might be free.”

“But you didn’t know Marcus before we left for Fremont.” I knew that—I was the one who’d asked Induan to go, and I’d picked my mod to match hers on purpose.

“I knew of him. Everyone knows of him. Just like they all know about Joseph and Chelo now.”

“Why us?”

“Because people are more interested in stories about someplace and someone different. I couldn’t be the subject of these stories. Joseph has Marcus’s strength or more, and so he can be a hero, too. See, if Marcus wasn’t one of the best Wind Readers ever, it wouldn’t matter what he thinks. But that alone makes him powerful, and rich, and scary, all at once. Only people see him as a good guy, as a hero.”

I stretched, watching fliers spiral out of the sky and into the fair, thinking we needed to get back down there. Soon. “Is Marcus a hero?”

“As close as it gets. He’s trying to change things that matter. The problems in the Five Worlds are bigger than any of us. Sometimes people who think they’re doing good are really doing harm. Either the war will kill us, or greed and stupidity will do it. Marcus used stories to make himself a legend before he did it to you all. He lived up to it. He was a hero when I was a little girl.”

A long time ago. Induan was older than Paloma, even though she looked younger than me. “How was he a hero?”

“He changed the mod for swimming so it doesn’t kill so many people, he made the Port Authority apologize for burning up a ship out of fear, he helped make us accept people like Dianne from Islas.” Her voice sounded nearly reverent, and I recalled that tone from when I’d first asked her to join us. The recollection made me frown slightly as she continued. “There’s more—he’s been a maker and a rebel and a fighter. He used stories to get greedy people unelected and he challenged an appointment to the Five Worlds Court that would have been bad. When he taught at the university, fewer of the Wind Readers went crazy.”

There was clearly more. I interrupted her. “All right, I get it. Marcus is a good guy. He acts like a hero.” Kind of like Mohami the perfect.

“So far, you have, too. Joseph saved Chelo, and maybe he’ll save the fliers.”

I hadn’t been a hero yet, except me and Induan saving the babies. That was in some of the stories, and nicely expanded on, too. But of course, Marcus had had a lot more years to be a hero in. And Joseph saw him as a father, or maybe more. What was more than a father? “I hope he doesn’t die trying, and that Kayleen doesn’t go stark-raving mad.”

She’d moved around; her voice now on my other side. Spooky. “Maybe Marcus will find a way to get through this war so we come out a better people on the other side. That’s what he wants. And humans all need heroes and stories. You’re just it, right now. And Marcus.”

“Just us?”

“Well, since the Port Authority and the Wingmakers are stupid enough to feed the stories, yeah. At least you still have steady attention. We’re competing against stories about families being torn apart and brave young fighters and newly made tech. All wars breed stories. It’s our job to make sure your story doesn’t get lost in the noise.”

Our job? “How close are you working with Dianne and them on this?”

“I’m helping. It’s a strength of mine.”

Ugh. “Well, if I’m going to give you any heroic stories to tell, we’d better go find Bryan. I told him I’d meet him in an hour; I’ve got to go.”

“He’s being looked after. Seeyan asked me to keep you safe for a few hours.”

I hadn’t left Bryan alone just to spend the night sitting on top of a hill. “What about Juss? Seeyan asked me to find Juss, only I never did.”

“He’s one of the people looking for Bryan. To take care of him.”

If he’d been looking very hard, surely he could have found us. “How do you know that?”

“Seeyan told me.”

Seeyan wasn’t on our list of who we trusted. “What about Amile? I told him I’d find him, only he wasn’t there.” I stood up, pacing the top of the hill. It had grown completely dark now, so dark we’d have to be careful getting back to the fair. “I want to find him.”

“How do you know he wasn’t going to kidnap you?”

“He saved us from the other guy.”

“Why?” she asked. “The reward for Joseph and Chelo is pretty big. What if he was trying to be your friend so you’d lead him to them?”

He’d said he wanted away from here. I believed him. Besides, I had a good feeling about him. I knew things, I really did. Just no one believed me much. Joseph, sometimes. “I don’t know, I just trust him.”

“It’s risky.”

So? “Well, when they made me a risk-taker, they must have built in some way to tell which risks are safer than others.”

“My brain is wired to be a strategist, but I still had to learn the difference between a good strategy and a bad strategy.”

I made sure I was a few feet in front of her, partly down the hill. Just in case I needed to get away. “I can’t sit here anymore. I’m going to find Bryan, or Amile, or Juss, or someone. Are you coming?”

“Be patient. We need a plan. You need to think bigger than yourself.”

“I am. I’m thinking about how to save my friends.” I started down the hill. She’d be able to tell from my voice. “Coming?”

“I promised Seeyan I’d get you out of danger.”

“You kept your promise. I bet I’ve been out of danger twenty whole minutes.”

“Alicia. You’re acting like a child. Let us help you. Seeyan went to talk to Joseph—she’ll be along soon.”

My heart hoped. “Is she bringing him?” She’d come closer to me. I stepped a few feet away, still unsure of her.

“I don’t know,” she said from too near. She was keeping up. I looked down. Maybe she could see my footsteps even in the dark.

I didn’t care about her. I needed Joseph. I needed
us
. “I’m going. I can’t stand still. I’m not made that way. But I’ll be stronger with you. A strategist and a risk-taker belong together.”

She grabbed my arm, bringing me close. “Promise not to talk unless I do? Promise to be still and quiet?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“I’ll do the best I can. And that’s going to have to be good enough.” I’d learned long ago never to make an absolute promise. It bound you, and I hated to be tied up in promises. I’d been tied up that way almost all my life, all the time in Ruth’s band.

She must have heard that I meant it. “I’m coming.”

I wondered what I should make her promise, but I couldn’t think of anything. She was still holding my arm. I took her hand off, and held it, so we could travel together, and started down the dark hill toward the lights of the festival.

T
he small room beside the room of war felt colder than it had been, or we were all sleepier. Kayleen was on her back, in the middle between us, closer to me than Marcus. Even in the half-light, I could see the mess of her dark hair, now so tangled it might be hopeless.

“We have to keep going,” Marcus said, his voice dragging tired but determined. “The sooner we finish our work, the sooner no one will want you.”

People had been chasing me ever since I got to Silver’s Home. “Do you really believe that? That there will ever be a day when no one wants to find me for the wrong reason?”

“All right. The sooner we can be free to find the others.”

“That’s better. Did people chase you your whole life?”

He shifted position, pushing up on his elbow so he looked down on us. “Most of it. That’s the price of ability.”

“So why wasn’t I born more of an idiot?”

Kayleen stirred. “Would you really give up your skills?”

“No.”
Although I’d take some of yours away if it made your life easier
. Except I couldn’t say that. One look at Marcus reminded me of his impatience. “Are we ready?”

Kayleen rubbed her hands over her face. “Can’t we sleep first? And shower? Wouldn’t we have a better chance if we’d had enough sleep?”

“No.” Marcus shifted in his portion of the paired black chairs the
three of us shared uncomfortably. We’d had one, and then a few hours ago, we’d dragged a second one in—all that would fit. Surely this was meant to be a closet and not a shielded data room. The extra chair kept me and Kayleen off the floor, but left Marcus less comfortable, too. My hip ground into a bit of the support for the chair, and I couldn’t find an easy way to shift that wasn’t disrespectful of Kayleen. I missed Alicia’s body tucked into mine, close, the way I’d be with Kayleen if we had a few inches less space. I missed Chelo, and Kayleen must miss her, too. And her babies. I took every chance I had to make Kayleen comfortable, but in this strange place I had to be careful lest we both fall into an unreal world we’d regret.

That didn’t make it easy. We could both use comfort.

Our third try for a successful sim had just started deteriorating, but we’d pulled up just the same. Why watch it die?