Incarnate (11 page)

“Why are you mad?”

He faced me, looking at me like I was the stupidest person in the world. “Were you in the same meeting I was?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms.

“No,” he growled, “you weren’t. You completely left us for a while. People said your name five times before you finally joined us again, and even then, you were barely there. What were you thinking? You knew how important it was to make a good impression. Next time you want to doze off, do it somewhere the Council isn’t deciding whether or not you can stay in Heart.”

I staggered back, and my spine hit the wall as I stared up. His face was flushed with anger and disappointment, and I couldn’t think of a good defense, aside from the truth.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” Anything louder than a whisper and my voice would shake. “You have no idea what it’s like to be surrounded by people more than two hundred times your age, all judging and deciding whether or not you’re
worthy
enough to live in the city they just found lying around one day. None of you can understand. I’m
alone
, Sam.”

His anger cracked; pity showed through, and I almost stomped off, but he said, “You really will be alone if you’re not careful, Ana.” In spite of the harsh words, his tone was gentle. I wondered which was the lie.

“Threatening to give up on me already? I didn’t ask you to take me in.” My eyes hurt, swollen with memory of this morning, and anger and betrayal now. “I didn’t ask you to do anything for me.”

His throat jumped when he swallowed. “They threatened to take you away. From me.”

The wall at my back blocked further retreat. “They can’t.”

“Li has returned to Heart.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“It’s common knowledge that she doesn’t want you, so the Council won’t do anything yet. But if I can’t control you — Meuric’s words — they will take you away from me. If you’re lucky, you’ll go back with Li and continue the training we had planned. We wouldn’t be allowed to see each other.”

I felt faint. “And if I’m not lucky?”

“You’ll be exiled, not just from Heart, but from Range.” He took a long, shaking breath. “This isn’t going to be easy. I never said it would. All the same, you need to try harder. I don’t want to lose you.”

If the wall hadn’t been holding me up, I might have fallen. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“No one does.” He closed his eyes, and the line deepened. “I don’t want you to feel alone, either. I know there isn’t much I can do. I know I’m one of everyone else—”

“It’s okay.” I wanted to hug him, or apologize for yelling.
Something.
It wouldn’t help, though, and after realizing he had more in common with Sine than me, I just— I couldn’t right now. I hugged myself.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered again.

And I didn’t want to be lost, or put back with Li, or exiled where sylph and other creatures roamed. “I’ll try harder.”

THE LIBRARY HAD its own wing of the Councilhouse. If not for the conversation with Sam, I’d have been giddy when he heaved open the mahogany doors and we entered the enormous chamber.

The walls were bookcases, and every shelf was full.

There were no separate rooms for different sections, like I’d imagined, but high bookcases gave the illusion of privacy in corners or on balconies over the main floor. Solid mahogany tables dotted the empty spaces, along with delicate lamps with stained-glass shades. Tiny sparrows and squirrels glowed.

Soft rugs covered the aisles; hardwood floors peeked from beneath the edges. I stepped over diamonds and snowflakes, inhaling the scent of leather and ink and dust.

“Maybe,” I said, turning to find Sam watching me explore, “we could just move in here.” The heavy air blanketed my words, even though the chamber was a dozen stories tall. “We could move the bookcases in the middle of the floor for the piano.”

He made a noise that was not quite a laugh and let the door close behind him. “The acoustics are terrible, though. And where would we sleep?”

I swept my hands through the air, toward the giant cushiony chairs and sofas, blankets draped across their arms and backs. Subdued, velvety colors matched the wood all around. Everything was so cozy and sleepy; I couldn’t imagine why people weren’t fighting to stay here forever.

“But the acoustics,” he protested.

“We’d rearrange things to help.” I dropped my head back and relaxed. “Where’s the section on music history? I’m sleeping there.”

He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher.

I cringed and turned away to hide the heat on my face. “I guess we do have that at your house, huh?”

“Let’s have a tour. I’ll show you where everything is so you don’t get lost.” He offered an arm, but I didn’t take it and he let his hand drop as if he’d never tried.

“I might need a map and emergency flare.” I brushed my palms across a smooth leather chair, which hissed under my skin. The polished wood squeaked when I touched the desk Sam was opening.

He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and handed them to me. “You can fold paper into a glider. Don’t know anyone will see it to rescue you, though. You’ll have to make your own map.”

Of course.

With exaggerated pride, he motioned toward the far side of the library. “Everything on the north wall and nearby bookcases is personal diaries. On all floors. Professional diaries are kept in sections related to their studies.”

I glanced up again. Twelve stories packed with nearly five thousand years of diaries for a million people. My brain hurt just thinking about it.

“Feel free to look at any of them you want. That’s why people bring them here — for others to learn from.” He reached for the nearest bookcase and hooked a finger on the top of a book’s spine, tipping it out of its resting place. “In the beginning of every new life, people usually go back and write an end for their previous lifetime. Usually they mention how they died so others can avoid that fate.” He grinned and winked, but it didn’t sound funny to me. “Genealogies are on this floor—”

“Can we look at something first?” I’d rather have tried on my own, but someone had to tell me if I was right. If anyone was going to see me make an idiot of myself, it might as well be Sam.

He waited, of course saying nothing about the rude way I’d interrupted him. Li would have hit me for that.

I let the dusty peace of the library soothe me before I forced out the words. “Are there photos or videos of you? From before?”

Silence for a stuttering heartbeat, then he nodded. “Some.”

My head swam. “I need to see them.”

He bit his lip — first time I’d seen him do that, and I wondered if he’d picked it up from me — and gazed upward. “Will it change anything? Between us?”

I wanted to remind him there was nothing to change.
Nothing had happened
this morning. Still, it wasn’t exactly true, and after all my thoughts in the Council chamber, things had already changed. It was just a matter of discovering how. “I don’t know.”

Sam bowed his head, then led me upstairs and around a maze of bookcases packed with stuffed photo albums and videos from various ages of technology.

We entered a secluded area where the full shelves would muffle sound. He motioned at one of the big chairs and bade me sit while he searched for memory chips and photos on the shelves. At a button click, a panel slid aside to reveal a large, blank screen. He pressed the chips into appropriate slots, and while they loaded, he placed a photo album on the desk between our chairs. An egret lamp made cheery light over the glossy cover.

He flipped through album pages and indicated a color photo of two men in their early forties, arms around each other’s shoulders. They grinned at the viewer, one wider and with a hand on the brim of his hat. The other had a slier smile that turned up one corner of his mouth more than the other. He wasn’t attractive; he had bad skin and limp hair, but that smile and the energy he radiated— “That’s you.” I pointed.

Sam — the young, handsome one — eyed me askance. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He gave a single nod. “The other is Stef. He died in an accident a week after this was taken.”

As hard as it was to believe the Sam in the photograph was the same Sam sitting next to me, it was even more difficult to believe the woman I’d met this morning was also the fellow in this picture.

Sam flipped to a photo of two men and a woman playing music. A man sat at the piano, and my first instinct was to say that was Sam, but it didn’t seem right. I studied them more closely, searching for something familiar.

I glanced at Sam for a hint, but he just leaned his elbow on the desk and stared at the photograph, expressionless. I wished I could tell what he was thinking.

The man at the piano definitely wasn’t Sam. Something about the way he sat over it. I’d only seen Sam play a few times now, but he never possessed it. He caressed it. The other man had a flute; he wasn’t playing, so his expression was easy to read. It wasn’t a Sam-I-knew expression. Too… someone else. I turned to the woman with the violin.

She was tall, soft, and curved, wearing a wistful expression as she cradled her violin. Something about her relaxed posture and the way she looked at the piano or its player. I couldn’t tell which. I touched her face. “Found you.”

“Did you recognize the dress?”

I looked again. Sure enough, she was wearing the dress I’d worn this morning. She — he — filled it out better, too, and I tried not to be envious. “No, I hadn’t noticed it.”

The videos had long since loaded, and the screen glowed brightly, waiting for instructions. Sam obliged, and we watched a group of people chatting in the market field. The images were low quality, but the faces were clear enough. “This was shortly after we learned how to record videos.
Someone
, I won’t name names, went around recording everything he could. We have years’ worth of videos like this. No one watches, but no one will recycle them, either.”

I might watch. But I didn’t say so out loud.

It seemed we sat there for hours, watching old videos and looking through photo albums. I found him in crowds in the market field — Heart hadn’t changed at all in the last three hundred years — in groups of musicians, or giving rude gestures to whoever was recording while he mucked horse stalls. I found him holding someone in a rainstorm, or being held, and leaning toward a stranger with a smile. Twice I spotted him kissing a man or woman, and my throat closed up so I just nodded that I’d seen him, and he believed me.

The screen went dark, and the stained-glass lamp was the only light in our alcove. I’d heard him sing, seen him shuffle away when someone approached with a video recorder — his friends usually grabbed his arms and made him stay — and watched him laugh until his face was red. I’d seen him old and young, skinny and fat, male and female, ugly and beautiful. None of those Sams looked like my Sam. I just knew they were him.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. Other than my thudding heart, the silence was complete.

I couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to feel about this. It was like drowning, the cold and the aching lungs and heavy limbs, with things bumping you, and not being able to tell which way was up. I pulled my hands into my sleeves. His sleeves.

“No,” I said, “but it doesn’t matter. We have work to do.” I stood up and pretended to be brave.

WE MANAGED TO finish the library tour, and he showed me how to escape the wing without needing to trek through endless halls of the Councilhouse. Then, awkwardly, we made our way through everyone in the market field and went back to his house. I clutched my crude library map — and crude street map — against my chest as we walked. I went upstairs.

Everything in me hurt. For over an hour, I didn’t leave my room, just sat on the soft bed and tried to sort through feelings.

Mostly, it was seeing a dozen different Sams that confused me. “He’s still Sam,” I told myself, the bedcovers and lace and walls. Anything that would listen and not talk back. “He is who he’s always been.” I’d always known he was old, had previous lives, and probably had a thousand different lovers.

It didn’t matter. It couldn’t.

I needed to focus on the Council threatening to take me from him. No matter what didn’t matter, I couldn’t let them put me back with Li. I couldn’t risk being exiled.

Which meant I needed to take everything seriously, do better than they expected. Awkward or not, I needed Sam. I could take my time sorting everything else out.

I washed my face and went downstairs to find Sam on the sofa, writing in a notebook. Not words. Music? He lifted his eyes as I sat at the piano, tugging on a pair of fingerless mittens.

The keys were cool and smooth, and when I pressed down on one, a clear note resonated through the house. I closed my eyes and smiled. No wonder Sam loved this so much. Maybe this was something we could share without awkwardness.

I played a few more notes, went seeking patterns and familiar things. A series of notes almost like what Sam had played earlier sounded under my fingers, but I was doing something wrong. I played it twice again, discovering the correct rhythm as I went, but not the right note. I tried the keys around the one I knew was wrong. Nope.

“Black key.” Sam’s eyes were on his book, but I could feel his attention. “Then you’ve got it.”

I wasn’t surprised when it worked, only that
my hands
did it. Stabbed by rose thorns, frozen, burned — and yet they still made music. “Will you show me the rest?”

He laid his pencil and notebook aside so quickly I wondered if he’d even been working to start with. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Market day brought freezing weather, but I bundled up in one of Sam’s old coats, found a hat and scarf and mittens to match, and waited for him by the door, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Hurry!”

At last he came downstairs, dressed warmly, but without so many layers. “You look ready for a blizzard.” He offered a canvas bag, which I looped over my elbow. “Everyone is going to be there. You might get hot.”

“I’ll remove things as necessary. Besides, this way if someone knocks me over, I have lots of padding to land on.”

“You plan for that?” Cold air zipped inside as he opened the door. The sky was blue and clear beyond the skeletal trees and, except for the chill, it was the perfect day for my first market.

“I do now.” I hadn’t forgotten the way people had glared at me my first morning in the city, and their muttered opinions that I shouldn’t be allowed to stay in Heart. I
couldn’t
forget, because it happened every time we left the house.

We headed down the walkway and road, chatting about this week’s song. Étude. I was supposed to remember there were different forms of music. He corrected my use of the word “song” when I used it to describe everything. Songs had words, he insisted.

As we neared South Avenue, voices, clopping hooves, and whistles drifted on a breeze. I hopped, holding my hat steady. “I can hear it!”

He laughed and waited for me to finish bouncing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”

“I’ve been wearing someone else’s clothes my whole life. Li’s, whatever Cris left behind, and now yours. Having something that’s my own will make it seem like—” Like I was a real person, not just the nosoul. But I didn’t want him to feel bad for not magically conjuring new clothes for me.

“Race you to the avenue?” It was only a hundred feet away, and no contest if he was serious, but he was trying to keep the mood light, so I didn’t wait to agree, just sprinted as fast as I could. He caught up easily but let me win.

The market came into view, shadowed under the temple and Councilhouse. Hundreds of colorful tents filled the area, cheery as a garden. The voices of thousands of people became a dull roar that grew louder as we neared. They milled around in bright colors, some with shopping bags, some with arms full of pottery, wooden whatevers, and clothes. A hundred scents assaulted my nose: cooking chicken, fresh bread, and spicier things I couldn’t name.

Sam pulled out his SED. Light flashed, and I blinked away stars. “So I can keep you like this forever.” He showed me the screen, which held an image of me grinning like an idiot.

“I look dumb.”

“You look adorable.”

I rolled my eyes as he put the SED back in his pocket. “Later, when you’re not expecting it, I’m going to take a photo of you.”

“That’s mean. I hate having my picture taken.”

I let my tone go mocking. “I’m sure you’ll look adorable.”

Strains of music floated along the breeze. I twirled and performed one of the steps Stef had taught us that morning, and Sam clapped. “Nicely done.”

“I like dance lessons.”

“They’re endurable.” He smiled, and I imagined he secretly enjoyed our morning routine as much as I did. Dance, chores, and music. Always music.

“Your lessons are still my favorite,” I said, earning one of his rare true smiles. After my turn on the piano, though, when he took his personal practice and I was supposed to be studying, it was really hard to focus on mathematics.

In the two weeks since we’d faced the Council — then each other in the hallway — we’d managed to find a place where our relationship was friendly and comfortable. Not like before we’d come to Heart, but we’d never be like that again. The Council’s rules made sure of that.

Still, happiness had been foreign to me before now. I never wanted this to end.

“Sam!” Stef waved us over as we approached the outskirts of the market. She peered at me. “The clothes are walking, so I assume Ana is in there. Somewhere.”

I stuck my tongue out at her as we waded into the fray. People held jewelry and clothes, jars of fruit preserves and baskets. We stopped to look at everything; Sam and Stef must have been bored silly, even when Sarit and Whit joined us, but they endured my ogling for two hours. In addition to serviceable trousers and tops, I finally chose a soft wool sweater in cream, and a deep blue skirt that went down to my ankles. I also ended up with a pair of shoes and boots, since Li’s castoffs were too big. Sam’s, from when he’d been a teenage girl, fit better, but they were old.

With all that and handfuls of underclothes, I felt… real. Special. Like when Sam first played my song. Waltz, he’d corrected.

“Where next?” Whit sipped from his bottle of water while we took a break on the northern edge of the market mayhem. The temple rose above, bright white against sapphire. I angled away from it, trying to spot the orchards in the agricultural quarter of Heart.

“Cheese. Oh, and fruit preserves. I saw some on the south end. Sam doesn’t have any. He wants both of us to get scurvy.” I winked at him and began rolling up my scarf; as he’d warned, so many people, all young and old and in between, made the market field hot. I’d never seen such a crowd, but it was less intimidating with Sam and his friends around.

“We had a lesson with Armande last week. Ana is convinced she can bake anything.”

“I can. I’m going to make tarts and you’re going to like them.”

Stef grinned. “If you need help putting out fires, I’m next door.”

While I shot mock glares Stef’s way, Sam produced his SED and embarrassed me by taking more photos. After pairing me with each of his friends for a picture, he stopped someone and asked him to take a photo of the five of us.

“I’ve never seen
you
take photos before.” Sarit wrestled the SED from him and browsed through images. She giggled at one. “Decide it was important after all?”

My hat was suddenly fascinating while I pretended not to see Sam’s glance. “For now,” he said.

“You don’t have one of just you and Ana.” She smirked and motioned the others away from us. “Hold still, both of you. Ana, what are you doing with your hat?”

I held it against my chest with one hand and tried to work out tangles in my hair with the other. “I thought we were finished.”

“Here, let me.” Sam used his fingers as a comb, but before he was done, the flash went off several times and light boxes floated in the corner of my vision. “Maybe this was a mistake.” He angled his face away from Sarit as he eased my hat back over my ears. “Better?”

“Yeah.” The heat and attention had probably made my cheeks bright red. Maybe there was a way to get rid of the photos before anyone saw them. Even as I thought it, Sarit took half a dozen more.

An hour later, we had coffee beans, cheese, and supplies for tarts. The crowd and noise were becoming too much, but there were a few more things I needed. Now that we’d made a full circuit of the market, I knew where to find them.

“Can we meet somewhere in half an hour?” I couldn’t imagine needing more time than that. “I want to find things for my costume.”

“Sure. Ask them to write a bill and we’ll take care of payment later.” He gave a shy smile. “I’ve got a few things to get, too.”

“You’re going to dress up?” I hated how excited I sounded, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Maybe. I should have stuff just in case.” Again, he looked shy, but I didn’t mention it and we decided on a meeting place with everyone else. “Call me if you need anything.”

I patted the Council-issued SED in my pocket.

“Want company?” Stef asked as we started on our separate ways.

“Nope. I don’t trust you not to tell Sam what I’m getting. He’ll have to wait and find out when people start demanding payment.”

She grinned and waved me on. “See you later, then.”

I wove my way through the crowd with only my new clothes and shoes to weigh me down; Sam had taken the rest of our purchases.

Now, walking through the busy market alone, I missed his presence. It wasn’t as if we spent every minute together — there were plenty of times we were on completely opposite sides of the library, him researching whatever a five-thousand-year-old teenager needed to research, while I focused on the Council’s demands — but I’d gotten used to having him nearby.

I didn’t like being so reliant on him. I’d have to do more things on my own, now that I knew my way around the city a little better. Well, at least I knew how to get to the Councilhouse and back.

My first stop was the jeweler’s stall, where I searched the coils of wire, overwhelmed with choice.

“What are you looking for?” the seller asked.

“I need something sturdy, but soft enough I that can bend it with my hands.” After imagining the finished product for a moment, I held out my arms. “About triple this much.”

He rifled around and produced several options. “I recommend this”—he jiggled one—“because it’s not expensive, and you need a lot.”

“That sounds perfect.” Thankful he’d made the choice easy, I gazed around at the other options. Silver, gold, things I couldn’t identify. “Where do you get all the metal, anyway?”

The seller began writing my bill. “Most of it washes down from the mountains, but there are a couple of drone-mined caverns around.” His pencil halted over the paper, and he squinted at me. “What did you say your name was?”

I tried to make myself taller. “Ana. But make the bill to Dossam, please.”

His eyes narrowed, and I resisted the urge to retreat as he finished writing. “Don’t come around here again, nosoul.” He shoved the paper and coil of wire at me. “Dear Janan, why are we being tested this way?”

A high voice piped up from behind me. “Sure would be a shame if people knew how rude you were to customers, Marika.” A young girl, perhaps nine years old, smiled widely at me. “Have a good afternoon, Ana.”

I grabbed my things and hurried away. Everyone knew me. People who hated me, people who didn’t seem to care one way or another, and even people who liked me for inexplicable reasons. Like Sarit, or the girl in the jeweler’s stall.

The masquerade was coming up. No one would know me then.

It didn’t take me long to find Larkin, who sold dyed cloth. I mimed how much synthetic silk I wanted, and we discussed colors and prices before settling. Only then did he ask my name, but he fell into the category of people who didn’t care. That was a relief.

While he folded my things and wrote a bill for Sam, I scanned the market. The crowd hadn’t thinned at all. People still haggled over trinkets and shared bites of food. Children marched between stalls, behaving just like adults. I even saw an infant like that, quiet and mature as he directed his current parents to things he wanted. I must have been such a shock to the world, unable to communicate except by mindless screaming.

Armande spotted me and waved, as did a few others I had lessons with. I waved back, half wondering if Sam had sent them to keep an eye on me.

A tall figure appeared in the corner of my eye. She touched my shoulder.

“Stef, I said I—” I turned and stuttered, staggered back. “Li.” She looked just as she had on my birthday, fierce and ever-annoyed by my existence. My body turned wooden.

Larkin returned from packaging my items. “Here you go, Ana.” Then he was quiet, too.

“So.” Li plucked the bill from Larkin’s hand. “You found someone else to take care of you. Dossam has always been a fool.”

My throat was broken. So was my tongue. I wanted to snap back and say no one
took care
of me, but didn’t he?

“Nothing to say?” Li sneered and shoved the paper back at Larkin. “I suppose I should be impressed you made it here, what with your sense of direction.”

“You gave me a bad compass.” Part of me wished someone would step in to help. Most of me wished I could stand up to her on my own. “You nearly got me killed.”