Relic (The, Books of Eva I) Read online

  “The turret?” My mother’s voice slips into Lady-pitch, as if her high whisper with its perfect adherence to The Lex somehow makes up for my recent lapses. I wish she’d relax her standards and leave me alone for just one night, or at least not publicly hint at her complaints. It’s humiliating. But no matter how furious she is with me for my errors, she’s careful not to accuse me; she has worked too hard to mar the image of our Lex-perfect family now. Even Eamon’s death hasn’t shaken her resolve.

  To my great surprise, my father answers for me. “Eva will be Testing in the days to come, Margret. I don’t think we should worry about The Lex tonight.”

  “But Jon …” Her voice has that Lady-pitch again.

  My father is insistent. “No more, Margret. Tonight is the Feast of the Testing. I am Chief Archon. And we have a Testor in our family.”

  My mother quiets; she has no choice. The Lex clearly states that a wife follows her husband’s commands. That goes triply for the wife of a Triad Chief.

  My father gestures to an Attendant along the wall to bring forth a tray of goblets. It’s my own Boundary Companion, Katja. Once each guest and family member has received the mead from Katja’s tray, my father raises his own goblet.

  I look around at the circle of extended family, mine and Jasper’s, all with their cups lifted high.

  To the left is my mother’s family—her sister, husband, and two children, and her brother and his wife—so distinctive with their white-blonde Nordic hair and pale blue eyes. In my mother’s mind, their pure Nordic blood almost makes up for the fact that her brother and sister aren’t Lord and Lady, but mere Gentleman and Gentlewoman. Neither is a Keeper or married to one; neither was as shrewd as my mother, or lucky enough; her brother is just a Steward to another Keep and her sister married a Steward as well. To the right stands my dad’s family—his brother, his brother’s wife, and their young son—so like my dad with the inky hair, pale skin, and narrow eyes of the Russian people. Still, my mother affords them the respect they deserve, as my father’s brother is a Keeper. Only the Triad of New North leaders—the Lexors, Archons, and Basilikons—rank higher than Keepers. And the Three Chiefs rank highest of them all during their terms of service.

  With our auburn hair and green-blue eyes, Eamon and I used to tease each other that we belonged to another family, maybe even random Boundary parents. My mother couldn’t tolerate jokes that we might come from any stock other than pure Founding; after insisting that we were a throwback to a rarer bloodline, she’d banish us to our bedrooms for nasty talk.

  Scattered throughout the group are Jasper’s family: his parents, his sister, and an uncle with his wife. They are a more mixed group than mine with a strong North American streak, but still pure Founding stock all, and not only Keepers in their mix but a Chief Lexor too, Jasper’s uncle Ian, and his wife. Even though the circle consists of eighteen people, it seems small and incomplete without Eamon. Especially since Jasper was always Eamon’s friend, not mine.

  I hold my breath. I can’t imagine what my father will say.

  “In the morning, the Testing begins. Our children, Eva and Jasper, will be among the Testors. The competition will demand much, more than we have already sacrificed.” My father pauses uncharacteristically—he’s usually so comfortable and smooth in his speeches—and the room is absolutely still. Everyone understands exactly what he means by that sacrifice.

  His voice takes on a commanding Chief Archon tone, the one I’ve heard so many times in the Aerie town square. Suddenly, he sounds like he’s giving a speech to New North instead of initiating the Feast of the Testing. It seems out-of-place at first, but then I realize that he might break down over Eamon if he doesn’t act the Chief Archon instead of a father. This Feast was always meant for Eamon. Not me. And the Feast was meant to secure the Gods’ blessings that Eamon return not only with the Archon Laurels, but also with a Chronicle worthy of the Chief Archon position when my father’s term ends later this year.

  My father incants the ritual language. I’ve heard this every year of my life, but never in the context of my own participation. The words are as familiar to me as my own name. “The Lex says that, on the night of the Feast of the Testing, we shall tell our children that we Test because of what the Gods did for us when we survived the Healing. Over two hundred years ago, the Healing washed over the Earth, leaving only the Gods’ chosen people alive. The Gods—our mother, the Sun, and our father, the Earth—delivered us to New North, the Gods’ chosen land. The Gods gave us a final chance to redeem mankind’s evil by living in accordance with their Word—as written down in The Praebulum and The Lex.

  “The Gods told our Founders that we needed a Triad of strong leaders, ones who could teach the New North people the dangers of our past, like worshipping the false god Apple. Leaders who could show the people we must live in accordance with The Lex, which dictates mankind live as we did in the Golden Age of the Medieval era, that idyllic time before the false neon of modern advancements set mankind on a path to wickedness and lawlessness. Thus, the Gods formed the competitions for the sacred roles of Lexors, Basilikons, and Archons—among them the Testing for Archons.”

  I raise my eyes and lift my hands—cup and all—toward the heavens, as my father asks the Four Sacred Questions for the Feast of the Testing.

  “Why is this night different from all other nights?” he intones.

  “Because, on this night, we ask the Gods to bless our Testors as they prepare for their sacred trials.” I hear myself give the ritual response, along with the rest of our guests, though my mind is with Eamon

  “Why will tomorrow morning be different than all other mornings?” my father asks.

  “Because, in the morning, we will ask the Gods to bless our Testors as they make the Passage and set off on their hallowed journey,” we answer in unison.

  “Why will the next twenty-seven days be different than all other days?”

  “Because, for each of those twenty-seven days, we will join together in the town square for the Gathering—to offer prayers for the Testors’ safety and for news of their Gods-given triumphs,” we say together.

  “And why will the twenty-eighth day be different from all other days?”

  “Because, on the twenty-eighth day, the Gods will choose our new Archon, a leader capable of surviving the journey to the Frozen Shores, discovering Relics that washed onto the Frozen Shores during the Healing, and writing Chronicles about the Relics that will show the New North people the rightness of our Lex-sanctified ways.”

  We raise our cups. Normally, we drink together as the final step in the ritual. But tonight, it seems that my father has more to say. I wonder if he will address the end of his term as Chief. The Lex does not require it, but many Chiefs throughout the ages have made farewell speeches. If not tonight, surely he will do so another evening, though I might not be there.

  “Tonight, we lift our cups to the Gods that either Jasper or Eva is chosen as the Chief Archon from this Testing. Certainly, they are both worthy of New North’s highest calling. But whether or not the Gods judge them deserving, we pray that they return home safely to the Aerie. Benigno numine.”

  As I raise my goblet to my father’s, my hand shakes in relief and gratitude. My father’s words sound like a begrudging approval of my insistence that I Test. I don’t want him to mistake my trembling for fear. I’ve worked too hard these past months to secure approval for him to think I have even a moment’s hesitation.

  NO ONE WAS MORE astonished than my parents when I announced my Commitment to the Testing. Eamon was heir designate; he alone had the years of physical, scientific, and historical training to withstand its rigors. In the wake of his tragic death, both my father and mother insisted that the Testing was not the place for their pretty, slender, and demure Maiden. My father had hoped I would choose a life better suited to my talents and gender—perhaps as a Master Gardener in the Ark, at least until I became the Betrothed of Jasper, our mothers’ greatest wish. Though eit
her of those pacts had yet to be formalized.

  But try as he might, my father couldn’t find anything in The Lex to stop me from Testing, even when he appealed to Chief Lexor, who also happened to be Jasper’s uncle and a close friend. Besides, I’d practically memorized The Praebulum and Lex in an effort to convince him. No amount of emotional pleading deterred me from submitting my name. Not even the persuasive, ever-logical arguments of Jasper swayed me. In the end, my father stopped resisting. He even let me train with Lukas as Eamon had, always with a proper Lady chaperone of course. My mother seethed, but this wasn’t about her. This was also something that my father knew intuitively. Because it wasn’t about me, either. It was only and always about Eamon.

  My twin’s life ended on the Ring, but his dream did not. And I would never allow that dream to die.

  BY THE TIME MY goblet touches my father’s, my hand is still. He nods at me. The serving horn sounds, and he, as Chief Archon, motions for our guests to follow my mother into the Feast. One by one, we dip our hands into the cool, clean water of the proffered silver wash basin.

  As a Testor, I go last, right after Jasper. As my fingertips graze the water’s surface, I try to keep my eyes cast down. But I can’t. I know Lukas is holding the silver basin. I want to thank him for saving me on the turret—thank him for all he’s taught me, really—but he stands at the wall, gazing blankly in the distance like the perfect servant. As if we are both invisible.

  I position myself to meet his gaze and stare straight into his eyes for a long, long moment, so he has no choice but to acknowledge me. At once, I wish that I hadn’t. In that darkness, I see something that moves me more than any pleading by my parents over fear for my safety during the Testing, or any carefully plotted arguments of Jasper. I see sadness.

  The last bell before Evensong sounds. Never have I been so happy to hear the tolling of the Campana that dictates every tick of our existence. The bell means that our guests must leave, taking their endless chatter about the glories of past Testings along with them. I can’t stand another tick.

  Painful. That’s what the past two bells have been, not that I’ve revealed my discomfort. With a gracious Maidenly smile on my face, I have endured bells of stories from relatives and friends. Last year, I listened in wonder. These are the stories that form the core of the New North. The true legends about how age-old winners braved the indomitable ice to make unprecedented discoveries. The true legends like the one that made my father Chief Archon.

  “Remember the gown they found years back?” Jasper’s uncle Ian cried after a few too many meads. As Chief Lexor, Ian rarely smiles, let alone laughs, but tonight is a special night. The lines in his face, etched as harshly as the stones on the floor, wriggle with secret delight. “The one without the sleeves?”

  The Ladies and Gentlewomen tittered appropriately at the notion of a dress without sleeves. Modesty is at the very heart of The Lex: other than that of your face and hands, let no swath of skin be seen by the Aerie or Boundary men of New North. Females are in need of the Gods’ special protection. Besides, what of the exposure to the elements?

  “Or the gown that rose above the knee?” Ian’s wife bandied back. With this, the Ladies and Gentlewomen gasped. This sort of debauchery was almost too much for them to imagine, even with their bellies full of mead. My father raised his voice, “That will be enough of the scandalous talk.” But he exchanged a knowing smirk with Ian.

  Of course this, too, was part of the ritual: these long-winded exchanges of artifacts the Testors uncovered—not just the immodest clothes, but dangerous remedies, Apple amulets, and even one rare Apple altar, the empty glass surface where the pre-Healing people spent countless bells staring at themselves in false worship—each meant to be more shocking than the last. I also understood they were meant to embolden me and Jasper for the days ahead. But they didn’t. All the talk about artifacts just reminded me of my major Testing weakness.

  Lukas taught me the ways of arctic living so that I could stand a chance in the early Test Advantages where the Testors prove their survival skills. Still, I don’t know enough about the world before the Healing. Testors typically dedicate years to learning about pre-Healing history so they can identify artifacts and craft cautionary tales, an act that is the very heart of the Testing and the Triad’s efforts to reinforce the critical message of The Praebulum and Lex. Instead, I spent my School days studying the Ark and perfecting the ways of the Maiden, neither of which will help me in the Testing. All my time training with Lukas can’t make up for this flaw.

  At the final warning gong before the Evensong bell, my muscles ache from keeping still. The desperation is a fever: to race up to my room away from all the chattering guests, muster my courage in private, and count down the bells until dawn. But I assume my Maiden duties. As befitting the daughter of the Chief Archon, I rise from my chair and stroll to the front door for the formal farewells. They seek my father’s blessing and vale first. Then, taking each guest’s hand in my own as The Lex for Hosts require, I thank them for their blessings.

  My manners falter only when I reach Jasper, the last in line. Tomorrow we’ll be fellow Testors. So strange that we’ve known each other our whole lives; he was friends with Eamon, after all. And his uncle and my father are so very close.

  But there’s something else. Something that I only consider now. Recently I’ve felt his eyes on me. I’ve seen him flustered, as if he feels something other than simple friendship or the bind of family ties. As if he might feel the same way as our families about a Union. Not that I’ve been in a frame of mind to really consider anything other than my grief and the Testing. Regardless of how either of us feels, I know that everything changes as of tonight. How we speak to one another, how we look at each other, even how we think about the other. We’ll become fierce competitors. Not friends. Certainly not more than friends.

  The expectant gaze of my parents and his parents bears down on us. This, too, is a test. I take Jasper’s hands in mine, and look into his face. I see my unspoken words reflected in his eyes. I say all I can under the circumstances, the ritual blessing for those few permitted to journey beyond the Ring. “May the Gods travel with you.”

  “May the Gods travel with you also.”

  With a last squeeze of my hand, Jasper ties his fur cloak around his waist and disappears with his parents out into the frigid night.

  Lukas closes the heavy stone door behind our guests and bolts it tightly. I see a slight softening in the rigid block of his shoulders, and even my parents breathe an audible sigh of relief. The ritual is over. We can relax.

  The solar great room begins to darken as the servants extinguish the candles and lamps. Just as I start toward the stone staircase, I hear a heavy tapping at the door.

  We all freeze. No one knocks on doors in the ticks before Evensong Bell when all inhabitants of the Aerie must be in their homes. Only the Triad—the Lexors, Archons, and Basilikons—have the right to move freely at any time. Lukas’s body stiffens, and he glances over at my father, who nods permission for him to unbolt the lock. We stand at the ready.

  I see the distinctive fur mantle before he steps into the room. It’s Jasper. He and Lukas exchange glances but not welcomes—Lukas is only a Boundary Companion, no matter how highly regarded.

  Jasper bows deeply to my father. “I’m so sorry, but I had to come back,” he offers, his face a mask of contrition for my parents. “I accidentally left my great-grandfather’s sealskin cloak behind.”

  “The cloak Magnus wore while Testing?” my mother asks, her voice whispery again in its Lady-pitch.

  I know he’s lying. There’s no way he’d forget that cloak. Before the guests had lost themselves in drink, much of the dinner conversation was devoted to Magnus’s exploits, who won his year’s Testing to become the Archon. According to the legend, Magnus had made it to the Testing Site in record time. And Jasper’s mother made a very public display this evening of giving Jasper the cloak for luck in his own Testing.
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  “The very one,” he says.

  “Oh, well, you must have the cloak for tomorrow!” my mother exclaims, “Eva, help Jasper find it. Quickly.”

  I follow Jasper into the dining hall, trying to figure out what kind of game my mother is playing, though I can guess. She wants Jasper to have luck. She wants him to win, and for me to lose but return alive, so we can be Betrothed, and the awful tragedy of Eamon’s death can be forgotten in the wake of a new beginning. As we peer under the heavy trestle table and search under the benches, I get a much closer look at Jasper’s sandy hair and light blue-green eyes than The Lex normally allows. He looks more real, more vulnerable than his public Gallant appearance.

  “I had to come back, Eva,” he suddenly whispers. “To say a real vale.”

  I blink back shock. Jasper always abides by The Lex; he has faith in its importance to the survival of the Aerie people. That he might break a cardinal rule like observance of the Evensong bell, just to say goodbye—it’s unthinkable. Not to mention he just lied about his reason for being here, something else The Lex strictly forbids: let no untruths pass over your lips or through your hearts. Then again, my mom knows. She must.

  Jasper smiles at my astonished expression. Despite the circumstances, I can’t help but smile back; his grin reveals the lighter side under that constant dutifulness. He usually keeps it hidden under lock and key. I know that, rather than smiling back, I should protest. In fact, the proper Maiden reaction would be to admonish him for taking the risk and for his audacity. He’s speaking out of turn for a Gallant, after all. Professions related to Unions can never occur without parents as witnesses—and, only then, once formal agreements have been entered at the parents’ initiation and the Triad’s approval. But I want to hear what he has to say. So I stay quiet.