Heather Terrell - Relic

“Well … thanks for coming to say goodbye,” I finally offer.

“Eva, I came to bring you something. Something you might find helpful for the Testing,” he says softly.

A smile creeps across my face. I rub my hands together. Another Boundary-tool. I am not so confident that I don’t appreciate the help. “So, what’s the treasure this time?”

“A book.”

I point at the bags all around the room. “I don’t think I can fit any more books. My mother just informed me—as if I didn’t know—that I’m limited by what I can carry on my back or on my sled.”

“You might want to make room for this, Eva.”

His tone has hardened. He pulls an unadorned leather-bound book out of the small bag hanging at his hip. It looks familiar, but then most do. Paper is a rarity, so books are reused and reused for Lex-sanctified purposes. As I stare at it, I realize why I know this one in particular.

It is Eamon’s journal.

“Hand it to me,” I order Lukas.

He flinches, and immediately I feel terrible. Even though I’m a Maiden of the Aerie and Lukas is just a Boundary Companion—making it within my rights to speak to him in whatever manner I see fit—I’m never so harsh with my friend. The hunger for my brother’s words has made me cruel, but that’s no excuse.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Lukas passes me the book but doesn’t respond to my apology. I’m not surprised. He told me once that the Boundary people never discuss regret; they offer tokens to the people they’ve hurt. Instead, as if he can read my thoughts, he answers the question I’m thinking but didn’t ask yet. “I just found the journal tonight, Eva.”

“Where was it?” Since Eamon died, I’ve wondered what happened to the little book where he recorded all his strategies for the Testing and all Lukas’s instructions. I’ve searched for it in all our secret places, but figured that he must have lost it on the Ring.

“In the floorboards under his bed.”

Odd, I didn’t know that Eamon stored things there. Clearly there were some things he kept for his eyes only. I palm the little book. Part of me wants to rip it open and gobble up my brother’s words, and part of me wants to savor his last thoughts. I split the difference. Slowly, I crack it open to a random page and gaze at the familiar handwriting without absorbing.

“Have you read it?” I ask Lukas.

“It’s in Latin.”

“Oh, that’s right.” I almost forgot that Lukas can’t read Latin. He can outsmart nearly any Aerie dweller in the ways of survival, but his knowledge has limits. The only Latin words Boundary people are permitted to know are those spoken aloud in the Aerie. The Lex forbids teaching them to read our written language. I don’t like to be reminded that Lukas has any shortcomings.

“Will you read it to me?” he asks.

Of course, I say yes. Lukas never asks me for anything. I start with the first entry. It’s not dated, but from the very first line I know exactly when Eamon began to write.

Today I made the Commitment. I’ve been talking about this day since I was four years old. At least that’s what Eva tells me. But it was weird to actually write my name in the Testing Book and place it before the Lexors and Basilikons. To say nothing of putting it before Father, the Chief Archon.

Father always insisted that his role as Chief was fleeting, as it should be. Like time itself. He made me focus on what was important, not my privileged place in New North. Archaeology classes so I can properly excavate the artifacts from the ice. History classes so I can identify the Relics I find. Science and Basilika classes so I can understand how the Relics led to the Healing. And all this survival training with Lukas.

But somehow, the Testing seems to have come too soon. Will I ever be ready? Can I do what Father did? Should I even be a Testor?

I look up from the journal. “I didn’t know Eamon felt that way. He never mentioned feeling unsure to me. Did he ever say anything like that to you?”

Typical Lukas, he doesn’t answer me directly. “He didn’t want you to worry, Eva. He wanted to protect you.”

I shift on my feet, thinking of Eamon telling Lukas something so private, something he’d usually share only with me. I’d believed that Eamon and I told each other every secret thing. I was wrong. First the hiding place, and now this. I tuck the thought away and gaze back down at the journal. The next three entries focus on his training. The pages brim with all sorts of tips from Lukas on how to win the first Advantages: details about maintaining a dogsled, building an igloo, fishing through ice holes, hunting for rabbits and geese, climbing ice mountains and crevasses, and of course, reading the snow. Lukas had been relentless in his training exercises, and Eamon clearly wanted to remember every point. His life would have depended on it, if he had survived the Ring. Why did he even risk that foolish climb? Because he was unsure of his ability as a Testor? The journal poses more questions than it answers.

“This sounds familiar,” I say, flipping ahead. “Do you remember that time you blindfolded me during a blizzard so that I could distinguish the snow from a pirta by touch alone?”

I laugh a little at the memory, even though I certainly didn’t find it humorous at the time. With heavy storm clouds on the horizon—the kind that usually send New North dwellers into their homes and shelters—Lukas led me and Katja by sled to a remote corner of the Aerie. Then he hitched the dog team to a tree trunk, and waited. We watched as the winds mustered strength and the clouds darkened. Katja was terrified, and I was furious that Lukas had put us in harm’s way. No matter the entreaties, Lukas refused to move—or explain himself, other than saying this was necessary for my Testing—until the snow hit. Only then did he tie a piece of fabric around my eyes, peel off my glove, and place the very distinctive snow of a pirta on my palm. So began my education in how to survive outside the Aerie.

Lukas’s eyes remain on the floor. “You need to be able to identify every type of snow. Even in a blizzard when you can’t even see your fingers in front of your face.”

“I couldn’t have just closed my eyes in that exercise? I really needed that blindfold?” I say, taunting him a little bit.

He laughs. “I needed to make sure you wouldn’t cheat.”

“Me, cheat? An upstanding Maiden of the Aerie? Never.”

“You’re not like other Maidens of the Aerie, Eva,” he answers with a smile and a low tone. Then he looks up and with a stronger voice, he says, “Anyway, I wanted you to be as prepared as Eamon.”

“Am I?” I suddenly need to know.

He pauses for an almost imperceptible tick. “Yes. Just differently.”

Before I have the chance to ask what he means, there’s a rustle in the corridor outside my bedroom. I see a flash of terror on Lukas’s usually implacable face. It’s all well and good for him to train me, but if he were found alone in my bedroom, I can’t answer for my father’s reaction. The Lex would certainly support the use of the gallows. Aerie girls and Boundary boys are never, ever permitted to be alone.

We nod at each other in shared understanding. Lukas climbs onto my window ledge, opens the sash, and then slips out of my bedroom into the night.

Only a few sleepless bells later, I stand on the platform at the center of the Aerie town square, encircled by the enormous fiery torches lit for the Testing’s vale .

I’ve stood on this platform dozens of times before, alongside my parents and Eamon. Every Testing Day for the past nine years, my father has spoken to the people of New North. But this is different. This time the lit torches and crowds are here for me.