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
“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
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