My own paint would normally have been smudged hours ago, when I propped my cheek up on my fist in what my heartmother, Anasta, would call an “unprincely posture.” Today, though, I’m carefully put together. Whatever it takes to convince them to climb aboard.
“Your Highness,” says my grandfather gravely, expression solemn, eyes smiling.
“Your Majesty,” I say, pushing away from my spot by the wall and moving to the open space at the head of the table. I already feel the need to clear my throat again.
Augh.
Here I go. Time to somehow convince them I’m not just chasing rainbows.
“Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, esteemed council members,” I begin.
My mothers, my grandfather, and about half the council are looking at me, while the other half are checking their files to see what’s next. But Talamar’s dark eyes, so like my own, are fixed on me, and he gives me a tiny nod of encouragement. So I take a breath and begin the words I’ve rehearsed.
“The great chambers at the palace have seen countless hours of debate on the altitude problem. I know this council has never reached agreement on the question of whether the islands are sinking or not. Perhaps that agreement—for or against—is years away. But there’s a reason for that, and it’s that we just don’t know enough about the problem.
“One thing wecanagree on is that in the centuries since the Ascension, we’ve lost the knowledge of our engines that we once had. We don’t know how they keep the archipelago aloft, only that they do. We don’t know how they repair themselves, only that they do. Most important of all, we don’t know whether they can continue doing that forever. They might be failing as we speak, allowing the islands to sink, or that day might lie far in the future. Either way, I think there’s one more thing we should agree on: we can’t afford to wait until the problem is dire before we begin to solve it. We need to reclaim our understanding of the sky-engines, or one day they’ll fail beyond our repair, and it will be too late to do anything about it.”
I have everyone’s attention now. The argument about whether the cities are sinking has caused more shouting matches around the council table than any other topic, and if I’m declaring my position on it, then they all want to know where I stand.
Talamar breaks the silence when he lifts his inhaler to take a quick, hissing drag from it, and my bloodmother fixes me with abetter make this goodkind of stare. She’d have preferred me to talk to her before I said anything in public, but if I had, she’d have had the chance to stop me.
I push on, taking advantage of the silence because in a minute, I’m not going to be able to shut anyone up.
“Two years ago, just after he was elected, Councilor Talamar proposed an expedition Below.” Brows go up around the table. A couple of the councilors sit forward in interest, and my heartmother closes her eyes, because Talamar’s wild ideas are the last thing she wants me involved with.
“He said that the only way to recover what we lost is to go back to the place it came from,” I continue. “Our ancestors built Alciel down there. They launched Alciel into the sky from Below. And somewhere in the ruins, maybe the Royal Academy could find evidence that tells us how they did it.”
Even now, in the middle of this moment, my heart thumps harder just thinking about it. To go Below, to see the place where our history began, to walk in the same places our ancestors came from …
To visit a land of ghosts, empty of people, but full of forgotten stories.
“That would be fascinating.” It’s my bloodmother who cuts into my speech, smooth as a sharpened knife. “Unfortunately, the academy members would be dead—everything Below, from the insects on up, is a threat to life. And in the extremely unlikely scenario that they managed to defend themselves, they would have no way to return to us. Their no doubt valuable insights would be lost, North.”
Here I go.
“That’s true, Your Highness,” I say, as respectful as I know how to sound. “And I know it’s dangerous down there. But as for our chances of discovering what they learned? That, I can do something about. I have found a way to return to the sky from Below.”
The room explodes.
Everyone starts talking over everyone else, and the only ones silent in the room are my heartmother, my grandfather, Talamar, and me. It isn’t Anasta’s place to speak at a council meeting, so she’s biting her lip, but I can tell there’s going to be a Conversation about this later. His Majesty’s simply leaning back in his chair, studying me thoughtfully, as if he’s still making up his mind about what I’m saying.
Looking at my grandfather is like looking at an older version of myself—at my own black hair turned white, but just as unruly despite the intervening decades. The same patrician nose, strong brows, light brown skin. When I was young, I was fascinated by his face—even then, he looked different from most people. Smoothing out his wrinkles or tucking in the skin around his chin is a procedure that would take an hour or two at most, but unlike most residents of Alciel, he’s never let the medtechs do their thing. His experience is written on his face, every line telling a story, and I like that.
Talamar, on the other hand, has taken advantage of everything the medtechs have to offer. An illness when he was young left him with permanently damaged lungs and pain that he doesn’t like to discuss. It never seems to dampen his energy, but then again, he’s only been fighting the rest of the council for a couple of years. They have a long time yet to wear him down.
Right now, he’s grinning openly, enjoying the commotion—but he knew what I was going to say. My mothers might have raised me, but it’s my bio-donor, a man who wasn’t even supposed to be identified, who really understands me. At least on this. For years I didn’t know him—he was allowed to pass on birthday presents, but never his name.
When I was five, a model glider started my forbidden fascination with flight. When I was ten, a sci-fi vid about an impossible cloudship that landed Below, on the actualsurface, sent a thrill through me that never went away—though the animated beasts the shipwrecked explorers fought gave me nightmares for weeks. By the time he was outed as my bio-donor when I was fifteen, I felt like I already knew him.
Now, Talamar nods, lifting his inhaler again, eyes creased in a smile.Go on, his gaze says.You can make them see what you see.
So I draw a breath and raise my voice to cut through the arguments around me. “Esteemed council members,” I try, which catches a few of them. “Your Majesty,” I continue, just as loud. “Your Highnesses.”
The last of them—Damerio, a sinking skeptic—falls silent, eyeing me beadily. Just waiting for his chance to launch back into his favorite argument. I hustle on with it before he can try.
“You’ve all been to the air festivals here on Freysna. You’ve all seen the stunts and the races. And you all know that the best of the gliders is theSkysinger. It’s faster and more nimble than any of the others, its pilot more skillful, and its design simply better. And perhaps you know that half the engineers at the academy would give up their tenures for the chance to meet that pilot and spend an hour looking over his machine.
“Well, I know that pilot. And I know why theSkysingeris so much better than anything else in the air. It’s because his engine uses tech salvaged from the sky-engines.”
