Heather Terrell - Relic

NO ONE WAS MORE astonished than my parents when I announced my Commitment to the Testing. Eamon was heir designate; he alone had the years of physical, scientific, and historical training to withstand its rigors. In the wake of his tragic death, both my father and mother insisted that the Testing was not the place for their pretty, slender, and demure Maiden. My father had hoped I would choose a life better suited to my talents and gender—perhaps as a Master Gardener in the Ark, at least until I became the Betrothed of Jasper, our mothers’ greatest wish. Though either of those pacts had yet to be formalized.

But try as he might, my father couldn’t find anything in The Lex to stop me from Testing, even when he appealed to Chief Lexor, who also happened to be Jasper’s uncle and a close friend. Besides, I’d practically memorized The Praebulum and Lex in an effort to convince him. No amount of emotional pleading deterred me from submitting my name. Not even the persuasive, ever-logical arguments of Jasper swayed me. In the end, my father stopped resisting. He even let me train with Lukas as Eamon had, always with a proper Lady chaperone of course. My mother seethed, but this wasn’t about her. This was also something that my father knew intuitively. Because it wasn’t about me, either. It was only and always about Eamon.

My twin’s life ended on the Ring, but his dream did not. And I would never allow that dream to die.

BY THE TIME MY goblet touches my father’s, my hand is still. He nods at me. The serving horn sounds, and he, as Chief Archon, motions for our guests to follow my mother into the Feast. One by one, we dip our hands into the cool, clean water of the proffered silver wash basin.

As a Testor, I go last, right after Jasper. As my fingertips graze the water’s surface, I try to keep my eyes cast down. But I can’t. I know Lukas is holding the silver basin. I want to thank him for saving me on the turret—thank him for all he’s taught me, really—but he stands at the wall, gazing blankly in the distance like the perfect servant. As if we are both invisible.

I position myself to meet his gaze and stare straight into his eyes for a long, long moment, so he has no choice but to acknowledge me. At once, I wish that I hadn’t. In that darkness, I see something that moves me more than any pleading by my parents over fear for my safety during the Testing, or any carefully plotted arguments of Jasper. I see sadness.

The last bell before Evensong sounds. Never have I been so happy to hear the tolling of the Campana that dictates every tick of our existence. The bell means that our guests must leave, taking their endless chatter about the glories of past Testings along with them. I can’t stand another tick.

Painful. That’s what the past two bells have been, not that I’ve revealed my discomfort. With a gracious Maidenly smile on my face, I have endured bells of stories from relatives and friends. Last year, I listened in wonder. These are the stories that form the core of the New North. The true legends about how age-old winners braved the indomitable ice to make unprecedented discoveries. The true legends like the one that made my father Chief Archon.

“Remember the gown they found years back?” Jasper’s uncle Ian cried after a few too many meads. As Chief Lexor, Ian rarely smiles, let alone laughs, but tonight is a special night. The lines in his face, etched as harshly as the stones on the floor, wriggle with secret delight. “The one without the sleeves?”

The Ladies and Gentlewomen tittered appropriately at the notion of a dress without sleeves. Modesty is at the very heart of The Lex: other than that of your face and hands, let no swath of skin be seen by the Aerie or Boundary men of New North . Females are in need of the Gods’ special protection. Besides, what of the exposure to the elements?

“Or the gown that rose above the knee?” Ian’s wife bandied back. With this, the Ladies and Gentlewomen gasped. This sort of debauchery was almost too much for them to imagine, even with their bellies full of mead. My father raised his voice, “That will be enough of the scandalous talk.” But he exchanged a knowing smirk with Ian.

Of course this, too, was part of the ritual: these long-winded exchanges of artifacts the Testors uncovered—not just the immodest clothes, but dangerous remedies, Apple amulets, and even one rare Apple altar, the empty glass surface where the pre-Healing people spent countless bells staring at themselves in false worship—each meant to be more shocking than the last. I also understood they were meant to embolden me and Jasper for the days ahead. But they didn’t. All the talk about artifacts just reminded me of my major Testing weakness.

Lukas taught me the ways of arctic living so that I could stand a chance in the early Test Advantages where the Testors prove their survival skills. Still, I don’t know enough about the world before the Healing. Testors typically dedicate years to learning about pre-Healing history so they can identify artifacts and craft cautionary tales, an act that is the very heart of the Testing and the Triad’s efforts to reinforce the critical message of The Praebulum and Lex. Instead, I spent my School days studying the Ark and perfecting the ways of the Maiden, neither of which will help me in the Testing. All my time training with Lukas can’t make up for this flaw.

At the final warning gong before the Evensong bell, my muscles ache from keeping still. The desperation is a fever: to race up to my room away from all the chattering guests, muster my courage in private, and count down the bells until dawn. But I assume my Maiden duties. As befitting the daughter of the Chief Archon, I rise from my chair and stroll to the front door for the formal farewells. They seek my father’s blessing and vale first. Then, taking each guest’s hand in my own as The Lex for Hosts require, I thank them for their blessings.

My manners falter only when I reach Jasper, the last in line. Tomorrow we’ll be fellow Testors. So strange that we’ve known each other our whole lives; he was friends with Eamon, after all. And his uncle and my father are so very close.

But there’s something else. Something that I only consider now. Recently I’ve felt his eyes on me. I’ve seen him flustered, as if he feels something other than simple friendship or the bind of family ties. As if he might feel the same way as our families about a Union. Not that I’ve been in a frame of mind to really consider anything other than my grief and the Testing. Regardless of how either of us feels, I know that everything changes as of tonight. How we speak to one another, how we look at each other, even how we think about the other. We’ll become fierce competitors. Not friends. Certainly not more than friends.

The expectant gaze of my parents and his parents bears down on us. This, too, is a test. I take Jasper’s hands in mine, and look into his face. I see my unspoken words reflected in his eyes. I say all I can under the circumstances, the ritual blessing for those few permitted to journey beyond the Ring. “May the Gods travel with you.”

“May the Gods travel with you also.”

With a last squeeze of my hand, Jasper ties his fur cloak around his waist and disappears with his parents out into the frigid night.

Lukas closes the heavy stone door behind our guests and bolts it tightly. I see a slight softening in the rigid block of his shoulders, and even my parents breathe an audible sigh of relief. The ritual is over. We can relax.

The solar great room begins to darken as the servants extinguish the candles and lamps. Just as I start toward the stone staircase, I hear a heavy tapping at the door.