Chapter Sixteen In Which an Illegal Concert Is Attended #4
“I have access to the wedding funds,” Zada reminded her.
“A little bit could go missing. Enough for a song or two, surely.” Zada could barely fathom the words coming out of her mouth, but she couldn’t deny that five minutes at a grotto rock concert had made her feel like a different person.
“Besides,” she added, “I want to help. With all of it, I mean. Be of some actual use.”
“No need to break the bank,” said Aubrey. “You’re worth more than any hard cash you choose to contribute. If you’re really in it, I can put in a word to Rowan for you. The underground, such as it is.”
“We have an underground?” said Zada, looking to Daphne for confirmation.
“Don’t ask me,” said Daphne. “I really am usually just here for the music.”
“Seedlings,” Aubrey said, “but they’ll grow. There’s a lot more of us than anyone realizes. Next set is starting up in five. Talk to you after?”
“Sounds good,” said Zada.
“You sure changed your tune,” Daphne said in an undertone as they wound their way back to their spot by the cave mouth. “What happened?”
“I don’t think I can explain it,” said Zada, “but you were right about grotto rock.”
The first song of Hope Springs Nocturnal’s next set was “Keep Calm and Panopticon.” It was an old classic, judging by how many in the crowd threw their fists in the air and sang along with their whole chests.
Daphne held one hand over her heart like she was reciting the Founders Creed.
Her whole body rocked with the music, seemingly involuntarily.
Zada was doing it again. She was staring too long at Daphne.
She wrenched her gaze away, physically turning her head because she didn’t trust her eyes not to trail back to their target.
That’s how she noticed him: at the edges of the throng of people, a man on his SmartGem.
He was pulling up a map for some reason.
It was schematics for the park, she realized.
Zada took a few steps back and checked his shoes.
One of her mother’s most enduring complaints about the guard was that even when they were going undercover, they had a hard time giving up their city-issued smart boots. The man’s boots were thick-soled and very shiny.
Trying very hard to seem casual about it, Zada slipped farther back into the crush of people until she was standing next to the stranger. “Get in position,” he was saying.
Zada glanced around the cave, at all of these people defying the law for no other reason than to sing the songs they loved with other people who loved them.
Face burning despite everything, Zada ran as hard as she could, threw her body at the stage, and grabbed the microphone from the stunned-looking singer.
“Everyone,” Zada panted, her amplified voice sounding strange and far too loud in the echoing stone chamber. “The city guards are on their way. We need to leave, now!”
“Lights!” someone yelled. A second later, the candles lining the walls were snuffed out, and the cave plunged into darkness.
The space filled with the rustle and rumble of people rushing out of the grotto and making their way out through the glade.
“Zada!” Daphne was calling her name, but Zada turned to the band members, who were methodically and quickly packing up their instruments. The guitarist fumbled for their case with shaky hands. Zada knelt down beside them, swiftly undid the latch of the case, and deposited the guitar safely inside.
“Thank you,” the guitarist said fervently, and then Aubrey was at Zada’s elbow.
“You need to go,” Aubrey said. “It was nice seeing you again, Zada.”
“What about you?” Zada said, glancing at the band.
“Don’t worry, they haven’t caught me yet. I’m fast,” they said, tapping the arm of their chair. “Get out of here.”
“Zada!” Daphne called again, her voice almost lost in the din. Zada leaped off the stage and ran for her friend, dodging elbows and feet, grasping Daphne by the shoulders as the crush of people pushed them out of the cave and into the night.
“Are you all right?” Zada fought to be heard over the commotion.
“I’m fine,” Daphne half yelled. “Just hang on to me.”
Thirty paces away, a blinding circle of bleached white light lurched onto the crowd. A short-range ship flying overhead had a spotlight trained on the pandemonium below.
Zada stared at the concertgoers caught in the light, their faces illuminated with a ghostly glow as others scattered into the shadows. “Don’t stop!” she screamed at them.
“Guard ships have facial recognition. It’s too late for them,” Daphne said into Zada’s ear. “We need to run. Head for the building over that hill.”
Ducking and weaving, they sprinted through the darkness.
Zada’s lungs burned. Her legs ached. The toe of her shoe caught at a root, and it was only Daphne’s arm around her waist that kept her on her feet.
Another circle of light swung into view, so close that Zada could feel the heat of the beam on the side of her face.
She pulled Daphne in the opposite direction just in time, and together they ran for the half-caved-in structure at the bottom of the hill.
Finally, they slid across the slick wet grass into the building. It looked almost like a tower from a fairy tale, knocked crooked as if toppled by one powerful blow from a giant. They ducked down by the wall beneath a gaping window, the glass broken out of it like a mouthful of cracked teeth.
Zada was breathing hard. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.
The room glowed with a gentle blue light, and it took her a second of hard blinking to realize it came from the walls, which were inset with smooth glass like her fish tank back home.
From the other side, a set of luminous eyes blinked back at her and then there was a flash of scales.
It was an aquarium, she realized, the totally enclosed and self-sustaining kind favored by busy professionals and eccentrics too scattered to maintain a staff.
The cries and screams of the crowd, the hum of the ships overhead, the eye-searing lights all felt very distant now, like a story that had happened to someone else. The hammering in Zada’s chest said otherwise. She took another shaky breath and studied the tank.
The fish had been genetically modified to resemble extinct species. Zada caught sight of one done up to look like an anglerfish, as well as a few styled like miniature dolphins and narwhals.
“What was that?” whispered Daphne, with feeling.
“I think we’re in a folly,” said Zada just as quietly.
“One with an aquatic theme. You know, they were in fashion seventy years ago. Build something on your property leaning into the grandeur and weirdness of the grounds. Pre-ruins, if you will. I heard, in the original follies back in the 1700s, aristocrats would hire hermits to—”
“No,” Daphne snapped. “What was that, back there? Grabbing the mic and telling the whole damn world where you were.”
Zada felt her shoulders stiffen. What had she expected?
That Daphne would take her hand and tell her how brave she was, how daring and cool and interesting?
Had she really thought that perhaps Daphne would fix her with that soft little grin she wore sometimes?
Had she been half hoping, in some distant corner of her brain, that Daphne might throw her arms around Zada, giddy with relief, and that the two of them might laugh together from the sudden release in tension?
“I was just trying to warn everyone,” Zada said, shame flooding her body. She’d done it wrong, surely. She hadn’t been quick enough. It was already too late for the young people who’d been caught in the spotlight outside. “I didn’t want people to be caught—”
“Yes,” said Daphne, “but what if you were caught? Going up there was way too dangerous. You’re lucky we got out.”
Zada jerked away as if stung, pressing her back against the cold and unforgiving wall.
“Really, Daphne? You’re going to lecture me on taking a risk?
We’re only here in the first place because you thought we should attend an illegal concert.
Do you want to take a guess at how rash and thoughtless and foolish that was? ”
“Yes,” Daphne gritted out, sharp as the jagged glass winking in the window. “Because that’s what I do. You can’t—”
“Oh, so you’re the one who gets to rush into danger, is that it?” Zada could feel her eyes going hot. “I’m not allowed to have a teaspoon of courage. It all has to be about you, and my only job is to trail behind you and follow your lead.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Daphne squeezed her eyes shut.
“Do you have any idea how it felt for me to see you up there? You could’ve given the guard enough of a glimpse to ID you.
And if they thought for a second that you were more than a mere concertgoer, if they thought you were one of Aubrey’s lot—”
“Congratulations,” hissed Zada, “now you know how it feels to watch your friend go charging off into the unknown. Welcome to every year of school with you. I put up with that feeling all the time. You have a taste of it for thirty seconds, and you’ve had enough!
The first time I show a single flash, a single inch of bravery, you tell me I’m not good enough.
That it’s your job to stride boldly ahead and cowards like me are left to—”
“You’re not a coward,” Daphne said hotly. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
“What? No, I’m not.” Zada stared at her, truly at a loss. “I’m not brave.”
“Yes, you are,” said Daphne. Her eyes were locked on Zada’s now.
“You love what you love. You hold your whole body like you’re apologizing for existing, but you still love what you love and damn what anyone else says.
Your friends, your triple cello, all those romance movies where the characters can forgive any sin so long as there’s a stupid-enough dramatic gesture at the end.
‘Oh, I climbed a building for you, doesn’t that totally absolve me for how I humiliated you in front of everyone we know—’”