4. Bolts, Gears and Sheer Brilliance #2
There must be something I missed. Looking over the panel, the dial for the Sidereal calendar caught my eye. “The Sideri didn’t use the solar calendar. They used a sidereal calendar.”
“It’s different?”
I couldn’t help but scoff at him. Really?
Has this man never opened a book? “A year on the Sidereal Calendar is the time it takes Earth to orbit the Sun with respect to the fixed stars. It’s only a few minutes longer than a solar year.
But the beginning of the sidereal orbital period is when the sun passes the ecliptic longitude, the supermassive black hole at the center of our galaxy. ”
My eyes widened in realization. Oh. Oh, of course.
“Okay…” he waited.
“December nineteenth is the start of the Sideri year, not January first. So the spring equinox would be the…” I tapped my chin as I did the math, “ninety-second day of the year.” I turned back to the panel and reset the dials to the correct date.
The beam of light moved again as I cranked the handle. “What exactly are you looking for?”
There was no answer as he stepped closer to the table to see where the light finally landed. The crank stopped. The ray of light landed east of the Submerci River, inside Tenebris Forest. His brows drew together as he stared at the location.
“Is that not good?”
Again, no answer. Such a fantastic conversationalist. I was starting to miss the knife. At least that thing had communicated clearly.
I’ve read about that forest where the light lay. “There are lots of stories in the archives about Tenebris. They say it’s cursed.”
He studiously ignored the fact that I was still in the room.
Flustered, I continued in an attempt to fill the silence, because talking was definitely what this situation needed. More of me talking.
“There’re tales of vines that pull you into the canopy before letting you fall, mists full of evil spirits, mud that will swallow you whole and travelers turned to stone.
That doesn’t scare me though,” I shrugged.
“When I leave next moon cycle, I want to see everything. Go everywhere. Even Tenebris Forest.”
He looked at me then. “When you leave?”
“Well, yes. My nineteenth birthday is less than four weeks away. If my ember doesn’t manifest…
” I let the words trail off. I didn’t need to spell it out for him.
No ember meant no training, no assignment.
And no assignment meant no name carved into history.
No glory. No purpose. And definitely no place for me.
They’ve made that clear enough, though never in so many words.
This has never happened before, so nineteen’s not really a thing. There are no rules for what happens when the fire inside never lights. No precedent. Nineteen was just the age at which they’d finally run out of patience with me.
I cleared my throat and tucked those thoughts away.
“I’m going to go to the university in Ibis and then travel the continent.
” The words tumbled out, picking up speed like I could outrun this sudden feeling of unease if I just talked fast enough.
“There are the ruins on Ortus Island and the vistas of the Amnis Valley.” I pointed to each location on the map as I rambled on.
“The waterfalls near the House of Ciconia and the caverns in the Calico Mountains. Maybe even cross over into Solis or Lunae. I want to see it all.” A defiant smile spread across my face.
Bright, but so very brittle. “And then I’m going to decide on the best place on the entire continent to make my home. ”
“And when are you going to do all that?”
“When they let me go—on my birthday,” I repeated.
“They’re letting you go?”
“Yes, when they…Let. Me. Go.” I repeated it slower this time. Should I use smaller words? “My nineteenth birthday is May first.”
“Is that what they told you?” he scoffed.
“What are you talking about? I’m pretty sure May first has always been my birthday.”
“No,” he snapped. “That they’re going to let you go.”
Something cold slithered down my spine. “Yes?” It came out as a question, and I hated how uncertain I sounded.
If I thought he was capable of it, I would think the look that flashed across his face was pity. Something tickled against the inside of my ribs, like the flutter of wings on a little bird suddenly made uneasy.
He seemed to study my face, a flicker of some inner conflict crossing his features. His hand drifted down towards the dagger strapped to his left thigh, his fingers just touching the hilt. And then something shifted in his eyes. Decision made.
“They’re not letting you go.”
The trembling rush of feathers, agitated and panicky, traveled up my throat, but I allowed only the retort to slip free of my mouth. “Of course they are. I can’t stay here forever.” The words sounded hollow even to my ears.
“They won’t let you stay here either.” He asserted, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Wha—” the question lodged in my throat. I stood perfectly still and forced each breath in and out of my lungs to remain even and calm. All the while, wings beat in manic terror, the little bird scrambling wildly inside my rib cage.
I had been ignoring the doubt, having no other choice but to hold on to the blind hope that even though I was a complete and utter failure, there would be more for me. That I would be allowed my freedom to search and find the place I belonged.
Those green eyes held my stare as I tried to piece together what he implied. His face turned hard again, impatient at the time it took me to process my existential crisis.
With annoyance, he finally snapped, “Stupid girl, they’re going to kill you.”