N. Jemisin - The Obelisk Gate

The spectators perk up as you and Lerna come onto the Flat Top, though; that’s hilarious. Everyone knows you volunteered to go topside to deliver Castrima’s answer to Rennanis. You did this in part to show publicly that you weren’t taking over; Ykka’s still in charge. Everyone seems to be reading it as a sign that you may be crazy, but at least you’re on their side. Such hope in their eyes! It dies down quickly, though. That you are back, and that there is a visibly bloody bandage around one arm, is reassuring to no one.

Tonkee’s in full rant about something. Even she’s ready for battle, having traded her skirt for billowy pantaloons, tied her hair up atop her head in a scruffy pile of curls, and strapped twin glassknives to both thighs. She actually looks kind of stunning. Then you pay attention to what she’s saying. “The third wave will need to be the most delicate touch. Pressure sets them off, see? A temperature differential should make the wind gust enough, the air pressure drop enough. But it has to happen fast . And no shaking. We’re going to lose the forest either way, but shaking will just make them dig in. We need them moving.”

“I can handle that,” Ykka says, though she looks troubled. “At least, I can handle part of it.”

“No, it has to be done all at once.” Tonkee stops and glowers at her. “That’s not rusting negotiable.” She sees you then and stops, her eyes going immediately to the bandage around your arm.

Ykka turns and her eyes widen, too. “Damn.”

You shake your head wearily. “I agreed it was worth a shot. And now we know they can’t be reasoned with.”

Then you sit down, and the people on the Flat Top fall silent as you impart what intelligence you were able to glean from your trip topside. An army of surplus people occupying the houses, a general named Danel, at least one Guardian. Adding this to what you already know—stone eaters on their side, a whole city more of them somewhere in the Equatorials—paints a bleak picture. But it is the unknowns that are most alarming.

“How did they know about the meat shortage?” No one seems to be holding the gray stone eater’s revelation against Ykka, or at least they aren’t doing it right now, even though they now know she was keeping the information from them. Headwomen are supposed to make choices like that. “How are they finding the rusting vents?”

“With enough people, it’s not hard to search,” you start to suggest, but she cuts you off.

“It is. We’ve been using this geode in one way or another for fifty years. We know the land—and it took us years to find those vents. One’s in a damned peat bog further along the river, which stinks to the heavens and occasionally catches fire.” She sits forward, propping her elbows on her knees and sighing. “How did they even know we were here ? Even our trading partners have only ever seen Castrima-over.”

“Maybe they have orogenes working with them, too,” Lerna says. After so many weeks of hearing mostly rogga , his polite orogene sounds strained and artificial to your ears. “They could—”

“No,” says Ykka. She looks at you then. “Castrima’s huge. When you came into the area, did you notice a giant hole in the ground?” You blink in surprise. She nods before you can answer, since your face has said it all. “Yeah, you should have, but something about this place sort of… I don’t know. Shunts away orogeny. Once you’re in it, it’s the opposite, of course; the geode feeds on us to power itself. But next time you’re topside, and not being almost killed I mean, try sessing this place. You’ll see what I’m talking about.” She shakes her head. “Even if they’ve got pet roggas, they shouldn’t have known we were here.”

Hjarka sighs and rolls onto her back, muttering under her breath. Tonkee bares her teeth, probably a habit she’s picking up from Hjarka. “That’s not relevant,” Tonkee snaps.

“Because you don’t want to hear it, babe,” Hjarka says. “Doesn’t mean it’s wrong. You like things neat. Life’s not neat.”

“ You like things messy.”

“Ykka likes things explained ,” Ykka says pointedly.

Tonkee hesitates, and Hjarka sighs and says, “It’s not the first time I’ve thought there might be a spy in the comm.”

Oh, rust. There’s an immediate murmur and shuffle among the people listening. Lerna stares at her. “That makes no sense,” he says. “None of us has any reason to betray Castrima. Anyone taken into this comm had nowhere else to go.”

“That isn’t true.” Hjarka rolls to sit upright, grinning and flashing her sharp teeth. “I could have gone to my mom’s birthcomm. She was Leadership there before she left to go to my birthcomm—too much competition, and she wanted to be a headwoman. I left my comm because I didn’t want to be headwoman after her. Comm full of assholes. But I definitely wasn’t planning to live out my useless years in a hole in the ground.” She looks at Ykka.

Ykka sighs in a long-suffering way. “I can’t believe you’re still mad I didn’t ash you. I told you, I needed the help.”

“Right. But just saying: I wouldn’t have stayed if you’d asked me at the time.”

“You’d rather have some overcrowded Equatorial comm with delusions of being Old Sanze reborn?” Lerna frowns.

“ I wouldn’t.” Hjarka shrugs. “I like it here now. But I’m saying that somebody else might prefer Rennanis. Enough to sell us out for a place in it.”

“We need to find this spy!” shouts someone from over near the rope bridge.

“No,” you say then, sharply. It’s your teacher voice, and everyone jumps and looks at you. “Danel said she hoped to make Castrima tear itself apart. We’re not starting any rogga-hunts, here.” This has two meanings, but you’re not trying to be clever. You know full well that your teacher voice isn’t the only reason everyone’s staring at you in palpable unease. The spinel still floats behind you, having followed you down from the surface.

Ykka rubs her eyes. “You gotta stop threatening people, Essie. I mean, I know you grew up in the Fulcrum and don’t really know any better, but… it’s not good community behavior.”

You blink, a little thrown and a lot insulted. But… she’s right. Comms survive through a careful balance of trust and fear. Your impatience is tilting the balance too far out of true.

“Fine,” you say. Everyone relaxes a little, relieved that Ykka can talk you down, and there are even a few nervous chuckles. “But I still don’t think it’s relevant to discuss whether there’s a spy right now. If there is, Rennanis knows what they know. All we can do is try to come up with a plan they won’t anticipate.”

Tonkee points at you and glares at Hjarka with a wordless See?

Hjarka sits forward, planting a hand on one knee and glaring at all of you. She doesn’t usually argue much—that was Cutter’s role—but you see stubbornness in the set of her jaw now. “It rusting matters if the spy is still here, though. Good luck keeping them from anticipating if—”

The commotion begins at Scenic Overlook. It’s hard to see from Flat Top, but someone’s shouting for Ykka. She’s on her feet at once, heading in that direction, but a small figure—one of the comm’s children working as a runner—comes darting along the pathways to meet her before she’s even crossed the main bridge from Flat Top. “Message from the topside tunnels!” the boy calls even before he halts. “Says the Rennies are sledgehammering in!”

Ykka looks at Tonkee. Tonkee nods briskly. “Morat said the charges were set.”

“Wait, what?” you ask.

Ykka ignores you. To the child, she says, “Tell them to fall back and follow the plan. Go.” The boy turns and runs off, though only to a point where he’s got a clear sight line to Scenic; he holds up a hand, clenches a fist, and then releases it in a splay of fingers. There’s a series of whistles throughout the comm as this signal gets relayed, and a lot of bustling as clusters of people gather and head off into the tunnels. You recognize some of them: Strongbacks and Innovators. You have no idea what’s going on.