Page 44 of Still the Sun

Dumbfounded, I shuffle from the room. The moment I clear the door, he shuts it behind me, the latch clicking heavy and final.

Chapter 15

“Have I ever shown this to you?”

I stand in my house in Emgarden. Salki and Casnia are visiting with another loaf of bread, because Salki “hasn’t seen” me lately and I’ve “seemed ill,” which is an understatement. Moseus probably wonders why I left so suddenly. I didn’t go back last cycle, and it’s already the sun of the next.

I dug up the little machine from my floorboards right in front of Salki. I have nothing to hide from her, but as I show her the framework and equilibrated sphere with my self-proclaimed symbol carved into it, she slows her darning and shakes her head. “No, you haven’t! You made that?” She touches it. “What does it do?”

Disappointment pulls at my shoulders. “Nothing.” I toss it onto the table, then steady it when a five-second earthquake passes beneath the house. “Nothing.”

“Yellow,” Casnia demands, holding out her hands without looking up. She’s drawing on the back of previous artwork. The process of pulping bark to make parchment is tedious, and Salki often doesn’t have time. I usually help, but as Salki stated, I’ve been away, and yes, ill. Just not the kind of ill I can explain.

I see Heartwood’s scars every time I close my eyes. I can feel them under my fingers, though he never let me touch him.

Salki sets aside her bundle of emily-root threads and searches through her satchel. She finds a nub of yellow chalk. Hands it over.Casnia draws all three of us this time. I only recognize Salki and myself because I’ve seen Casnia’s interpretations so many times. I only recognize Casnia because she’s blended colors together into a semblance of her violet eyes. Her proportions are wildly off, but she’s occupied.

“Are you eating?” Salki asks, poking my stomach. “You look a little thin.”

I scoff at the insult. Salki doesn’t mean it as one, but I’ve never liked the word to describe me.Thinandstrongare not synonyms. “Yes, I’m eating.” To make a point, I pinch off the corner of her perfectly executed bread loaf and shove it into my mouth. It tastes amazing, and I take a minute to savor it.

Okay, I haven’t been eatinggoodfood, only quick food, but that’s beside the point.

“Have you seen any strange people around here?” I ask suddenly.

Salki picks off thread where it’s caught on her brooch. “Strange how?”

“Like pale. Tall. White hair.”

She blinks. “Entisa had white hair.”

Because she was old. “Never mind.” I rub my temples. “I think I had a weird dream last mist.”

Salki thumbs at her metallic, misshapen brooch, then changes the subject, interesting me in gossip. One of the farmhands was caught peeing in the well, so Maglon banned him from the alehouse for the next hundred cycles. Maglon, who Salki thinks is sweet on Frantess, which I find laughable.

“They’re too different,” I point out, and my chuckling fades.Different.Like me and Heartwood.

“You’d be surprised,” Salki says. “At least he contaminated the far east well, so we’ll only use it on the plants.”

“Because the farmers never get thirsty on that end.”

She sighs. “I think it’ll be clean soon enough, with all the water we take. He regrets it, at least. Took my shift for me.”

“That’s something.”

“Honestly, I’d be more upset if it weren’t for that rover.” She beams. “It’s really so helpful, Pell! If we had a few more ...” She retrieves her sewing. “I can’t even imagine.”

I’m happy the rover is helping. I’d love to make another, once I have the pieces. And to make the present one faster. Maybe give it a track to follow. I have a few ideas. But while the compliment was meant to bolster me, I don’t feel it. Too much else takes up space in my chest.

They stay and chat a little longer, then excuse themselves when Casnia needs to use the privy. Alone, I turn back to my piecemeal machine, tracing my hands over it. I carefully dismantle a few pieces of it, just to peer inside. The frame seems just that—a frame. No special wires or wiring or hidden parts. I’d thought the translucent orb at the center couldn’t pull apart without breaking, but I notice a seam on it that’s similar to one on Machine Three. The right amount of pressure and a twist gets the two halves apart.

The acrylic halves are lined with glass inside, thin and carefully blown. One half sports hard wires jutting out of its bottom and branching out across the concave surface. Silver leaf lines the other half. I fit the halves together, watching those wires. Pull them apart again. The wires obviously need to connect to something. Nothing works with free wires. But connect to what?

As I piece the thing back together, I notice a hinge on the acrylic outer shell. It’s made to peel away, like it’s only there to protect the glass within. I return the orb to its weighted nest. Examine it a little closer.

“If I had to make a guess,” I mutter, “I’d ...” Well, it’s stupid, but I’d think this was a light.

Why else would the orb be translucent, with that glass? And the frame resembles the frame of a lantern, though it’s not freestanding. No chimney, but I can’t guess what else the machine would be used for. There’s no reasonable intake for oil, but I don’t think it’s meant to be lit. Not with a flame.

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