Queen Of The Great Underworld

62

I tried not to imagine going back to that. To chapped hands, to pitch-black nights, to the weeping of my neighbors. To yarrow.

I shook away those thoughts and focused on the Shadowed City. I needed to be alert.

Streetlights stood sentinel every five paces: noorestones placed in high steel cages, the pookies arranged so that the ground beneath them would never be dark.

“What are you looking at?” Dara watched me as I peered at the outside world.

“You have so many streetlights here.” I’d counted twenty-one already, and we hadn’t left the block where my inn was located.

“Bophans don’t like the dark,” she said. “You might have noticed.”

“That’s always seemed odd to me. You worship the Shadow Goddess.” I wanted to suck the words back in—Galadriel was frowning—but Dara just waved away my gaffe, as though it had never happened.

“There are no shadows without light, Mira. And where there is light, there are always shadows.” She spoke the words as though imparting some great knowledge or understanding of the universe upon me. “In Bopha, our worship is twofold: the shadow, and the light that makes the shadow possible. To expect one without the other is”—she paused, as though trying to figure out how to explain this to an outsider—“the same as expecting a shout to have no sound.”

I thought I understood. “It wouldn’t be right to worship only shadows without also loving the thing that makes shadows possible?”

Dara smiled warmly. “That’s correct.”

“You said the worship was twofold, though. Light and shadow, but something has to block the light to make the shadow. Do you worship that, too? What makes shadows?”

The lady president leaned forward, her neck tattoos twitching as she drew a breath. “We do, Mira. We block the light to make shadows. That is human nature.”

The carriage turned a sharp corner, and when we straightened, the Shadow Spires rose ahead, filling the sky with their enormity.

“You can see,” Dara said, “why these recent arson attacks have been so horrific.”

“Lighting people on fire is always horrific.”

“Of course.” She said it like she was agreeing so we didn’t argue. Like lighting people on fire was somehow worse here. “It destroys a person’s shadow. A terrible fate anywhere.”

I searched my mind for their afterlife beliefs. Daminan people were united with their soul mates for eternity. Khulani warriors were taken to fight in a great battle. Hartans were given endless, loving families. Bophans . . .

“Only our shadows move on,” Dara said. “I could see you trying to remember.”

I blushed. “Forgive me. It’s been some time since my studies covered other beliefs.”

“Worry not.” She leaned back in her seat. “Bopha takes our shadows and adds them to her own. But without, we cannot join her in eternity. That’s why the fire killings are even more abhorrent to us. A person cannot cast a shadow when the light is coming from them.”

“What happens if they die without a shadow?”

Dara bowed her head. “Nothing happens, dear Mira. Nothing at all. They simply end.”

I shuddered. The thought of nothing happening after death was enough to haunt me for days. I changed the subject. “What do you think will be served at dinner tonight?”

That was an easy question. Dara had chosen the menu. While she described all seven courses, I divided my attention between that and the window. But mostly, I wished I were sitting next to Jan. If I could even meet his eyes, that would be something, but he sat on the other side of Galadriel, and everyone would know something was wrong if I leaned forward to look around her.

If Jan had known the quiet code, I could tap a message. I could say hello. I could say I missed him.

The carriage stopped at three points on the drive, and every time a police officer opened the door, peered around the interior, and asked to see Dara’s papers. “Thank you, Lady President Soun.”

“They know who you are,” I said the last time, as we drew closer to the spires. “Why do they need to see the papers?”

“I may be the leader of the Bophan people, but I am still a person like anyone else. If I insist on checkpoints to ensure the safety of tonight’s dinner, I must submit to the inspections as well.”

If only she felt so passionately about the equality of Hartans.

A wide band of park ground ringed the Shadow Spires. Broad-leafed trees grew at regular intervals. Benches (I counted five) and tables (two within sight) had been sprinkled across the grass. All were painted bright white, and already glowed under the streetlights.

The spires themselves were something else entirely.

From the docks, I’d thought the buildings were marble and copper, but that had been under the afternoon light. Now, as we passed between two of the towers, I noticed the noorestones embedded right into the walls. They’d been placed next to the veins of copper that swirled over the exteriors, like the tattoos that covered Dara’s throat, or Chenda’s face.

When the carriage stopped and we were released, I dropped back my head to find that the bright noorestones climbed up the towers all the way to the top of every spire.

Three footsteps thumped behind me. I held my breath, hoping it was Jan, but the sound was too noisy to be him; Jan moved like a ghost when he wanted. And he wouldn’t risk his cover.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Galadriel stood next to me and lowered her voice. “Doesn’t it make you wish you could see beautiful things like this all the time?”

I kept my voice equally soft, under the gentle cacophony of a stream of people on their way to the wide-mouthed doors of the central spire. “Of course.”

“Don’t forget.” She touched my arm so I’d go with her. The party waited. “All you have to do is deliver the speech.”

DELIVER THE SPEECH.

That was all.

That was always the Luminary Council’s wish of me. Say the words. Look the part. Inspire confidence.

My long gown gleamed in the noorestone light, bright against my skin. I missed this—feeling beautiful—but how could I embrace this life now that I knew the cost?

Conflicted, I followed Galadriel and Dara to the enormous open doors of the High Tower, where eight armed guards waited. They searched our bags and waved us into the grand lobby. The five of us strode through the huge space, with ceilings that stretched far higher than normal, making Dara’s voice carry as she pointed out pieces of art and architecture, and educated us on their historical importance.