Author: Jodi Meadows

There’d been drawings of battles in some of the cottage books, most involving liberal use of red ink. If I’d died in countless wars against the other inhabitants of the planet, I’d keep my doors shut, too.

The arch was tall and wide, and deep enough for ten people to stand abreast. Still creeped out by the pulse of the wall, I hugged myself and stayed in the center.

Beyond the iron bars, the archway opened into a wide chamber. “Guard station,” Sam explained. “And this is a soul-scanner, so the Council knows who is coming and going. There are a few around armories and places they don’t think everyone should have access to. Normally you’d have to touch it, too, but I assume you’re not in the database, so it wouldn’t do anything.” He pressed his palm on a small panel by the gate. It beeped, and a section of the gate swung open just as yellow light spilled across the floor and footsteps echoed.

A slender man, perhaps in his thirties, appeared. “Hey, Sam. Would have been here sooner, but Darce just gave birth to Minn—who’s a girl this time—and a bunch of us had to keep Merton from getting revenge on him while he’s still so young. Her. That might take some getting used to. Minn hasn’t been a girl in ten generations.”

Sam went first with Shaggy. I followed when the hooves were out of the way, and didn’t even have time to take in the sparse furnishings before all eyes fell on me.

“Speaking of getting used to.” The stranger glanced at Sam, then back to me. He wore loose-fitting pants and a heavy, button-up brown shirt. The afternoon was warm enough to make coats unnecessary. “Ana, right?”

As if there were a question. He’d known because I hadn’t touched the soul-scanner, then started gossiping to make me feel excluded. I lifted my chin like I was about to come up with a brilliant retort, or like Sam might say something, but neither happened, and the stranger and I just watched each other, stares slowly turning into glares.

Shaggy broke the silence with a long sigh.

The guard turned back to Sam. “Still doesn’t talk, hmm? Sad.” He retreated to a wooden desk shoved against the city wall. A slim, flickering screen rested in the center—it was blank—and a few neat stacks of paper sat around that. He flicked on the lamp and leaned against the desk, casting shadows.

Sam hauled his bags off Shaggy, grunting between words; otherwise, his tone was congenial. “Actually, I think she was waiting for you to give her your name.”

“Actually,” I said, “I don’t care.” I took a bag from Sam, transferring it to my shoulder with minimal use of my hands. The one bandage was coming undone from where I’d been sloppy about rebinding it. “But I do talk, and have for quite some time.”

Sam turned his head as though to hide his smirk.

“Well then, glad to hear. I’m Corin.” The guard offered a palm, which I didn’t take, just held up my bandages. “What happened to your hands?”

“Burned them.”

“She rescued me from a sylph.” Sam didn’t mention how he’d rescued me from the sylph, too, and the lake before that, or how he’d been taking care of me for almost three weeks. It was nice of him to make me sound brave.

Corin whistled. “Impressive, but you know he’d come back, right?”

Eventually, sure, but not in time to save me from everyone treating me like Corin was. I hefted the new bag on my shoulder and addressed Sam. “It’ll be time for supper soon.”

He had little reason to play as my ally, considering he’d known Corin for five thousand years and my “saving” of him was only one small thing, but for whatever reason, he did, and I could have hugged him for it. “You’re right. It’s been a long walk from the edge. Can we catch up another day, Corin? Ana and I still have to unpack.”

The guard shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I mean, you can go, Sam”—he jerked his chin toward the open door at the end of the long room—“but Ana hasn’t been cleared.”

“What?” Sam’s tone was suddenly less pleasant.

The extra bag dug painfully into my shoulder. “I thought you just had to write my name in a ledger or something. What do you mean cleared?”

“For entrance into the city. You aren’t a citizen.”

“I was born here.” Surely everyone knew that. Li had told me how they’d all come by to ogle the nosoul, and that was one of the reasons she’d taken me away. Not just to hide her shame, but, she insisted, to protect me.

“You aren’t documented as being a legal resident of Heart.”

“But I was born here!”

“She’ll stay as my guest.” Sam edged closer to me, as if proximity would convince anyone. “We’ll work out citizenship in the morning.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” Corin crossed his arms. “You know I would if I could, but it’s against the rules.”

“What rules? There are no rules about who gets into Heart.”

Corin swiped papers off the desk and thrust them at Sam. “The Council passed it a few years ago. Weren’t you paying attention? In order to enter Heart, one must be a citizen, and in order to be a citizen, one must have owned a home in the city for the last hundred years.”

Sam dropped his bags on the floor—I put mine down a little more carefully—and grabbed the papers, reading quickly. “This is ridiculous.” He hurled the papers across the room. They fluttered and whispered against one another before settling on the smooth floor. “Call Meuric. Call the entire Council. Tell them to get here immediately.”

“They’re in session. Ana is free to stay in the guard station tonight; there’s a more than adequate bunk that way.” He pointed somewhere beyond me. “I doubt anyone will protest.”

The last thing I wanted to do was stay in the guard station all night. I’d feel safer by the geyser. I’d feel safer at the bottom of Rangedge Lake. “Sam—”

He shook his head. “You’re coming home with me, no matter what anyone says.”

I could run for the door and try to get lost in the streets—probably not hard—but the million to two odds weren’t good. Sam and I would get caught and put in prison, so my only good choice was to let him handle this. I hated that choice.

“Sam,” Corin said, “calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal, my foot!” Sam seized Corin’s sleeve and hauled him across the room. They were just out of earshot if they spoke quietly, which they did. I hated that too, but I didn’t want to make Sam look bad by stomping after them and demanding to be included in the conversation.

While Sam no doubt told Corin all about how I needed help and didn’t trust anyone, I sat at the desk and unwound my bandages. My hands looked better. Pink, with sensitive skin, but we’d been careful about keeping them clean while we traveled, especially after the blisters burst. I felt like a fool for having believed Li’s lie about sylph burns never healing. Soon, I’d be well enough to hurl rocks at her if I ever ran into her again.

Angry whispers sizzled across the guardroom, too obscured for me to understand. I sifted through the papers on Corin’s desk, finding shift schedules and other mundanities. It looked like whoever lived closest to each of the guard stations was responsible for keeping an eye on it while they were in residence. They rotated days with a few others, but overall it didn’t look like a difficult job, so long as you remembered the rule: anyone but Ana was allowed to come into the city.

“Alone in the woods? It’s midwinter.” Corin’s surprised hiss made me stiffen, but I didn’t look behind me. Sam didn’t need to know I’d heard anything of his secret meeting.

The stack of papers at the back of the desk had lists of armories throughout Heart, and the contents. Now that was interesting. Old catapults and cannons, newer armored vehicles and air drones. Laser pistols. I had no idea what half these things were, but I flipped through the pages. Maybe Sam could tell me, or I could find something in the library—if I was ever allowed farther than the guard station.

“Okay.” Corin stalked up behind me and ripped the papers from my hands. “Those aren’t for you.”

“Don’t worry.” I stood and glanced at Sam, who was digging his SED from his bag. “Li never taught me how to read.”

Sam snorted and strode to the other side of the room to call the Council.

It took half an hour for people to start arriving. Corin had taken Shaggy and the travel supplies to the stable nearby, making Sam and me promise not to leave. And we didn’t, because I knew Sam wouldn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t feel like wandering the city without him.

The first to arrive was a woman in her late eighties, perhaps. Since Li had kept me away from everyone, all I had to go on was pictures of people at various ages; guessing was tricky. This woman had gray hair pulled into a taut bun. Shallow wrinkles spiderwebbed across her face but made her look more dignified than old. She introduced herself as Sine and took a seat in one of the chairs along one side of the guard station.

Geyser-incident Sine. Huh.

Meuric came next. He looked younger than fifteen, but aside from emergencies, you had to be past your first quindec to hold a job because of physical size and hormones. At least that was what I’d heard.

Though Meuric was only my height and kind of pointy with that chin and those elbows, his deep-set eyes showed his true age. The way he looked at me, I’d never felt more insignificant. Sam had said Meuric was the leader of the Council, so he was the one I really had to impress.

Frase, who’d been the one to tell Li about Ciana, and Antha joined them.

Sam said, “Clearly this rule was made to keep Ana out of Heart. It’s cruel and unfair to exclude her simply because she hasn’t been alive for five thousand years.”

Meuric scratched his chin and looked thoughtful. “If I recall, that was because no one was sure whether more newsouls would be born. What happens if Ana isn’t the only one? Do we find housing for all of them? Can our community support them?”

Sam shot me a warning glance before I could open my mouth.

Them. I crossed my arms and stood by my bags. There wasn’t a them. There was only me.

“This wasn’t to segregate Ana, but to protect our city.” Antha ran her fingers through her hair. “You remember how clumsy we were with Heart when we first arrived? We were so young, as Ana is now.”

“I’m not going to break your city.” I scowled, ignoring Sam’s pleading look. “I don’t want to change anything or disrupt your routines.”

“You already have,” said Frase. “Simply by existing.”

“Blame Li and Menehem. I had nothing to do with that.” I tried to make myself taller, but standing next to Sam, that was pointless. “It seems to me you’re changing and disrupting your own lives because of my existence more than I have. I’ve been away for eighteen years, and you’re making laws when I’m out of sight—”

“What I think Ana is trying to say,” Sam interrupted, “is aside from being born, which she couldn’t help, she hasn’t disturbed anyone.”

“Except Li,” said Antha.

Sine nodded. “Li chose to face her responsibility, unlike Menehem. That was noble of her.”

That was not the story I’d heard.

“If Li hadn’t,” Sam said, “someone else would have. Someone, maybe, who realized that in a few years Ana would grow up and become a member of our community. She has her own useful skills, but she can’t contribute unless someone allows her.”

“Would you have taken her in?” Meuric mused. “No, you were an infant then, too. That was quite a year, if I recall. You the first day, and Ana a few weeks later. Two births that year. I remember because I died three days after Ana arrived. Shock is bad for old hearts.”