I wait about half an hour after my aunt leaves before making my escape.
The last time I rode the Grand Rail, just a few years after it was finished, I was too little to remember or appreciate it. I don't intend to spend the whole trip this time stuffed away in some makeshift medical car.
Checking on Kaidin one more time, I find him as deeply asleep as he was before. His akhana blinks at me over his chest, purring. I give the tree cat a scratch on the head and another below the chin, then turn to look for my satchel. Finding it under my palette, I snatch it up and—with Puka at my heels—make for the exit at the front end of the car.
One of the Hunter Guards stationed at the other side breaks away to follow, but as I'd hoped, he says nothing of my getaway, nor does he try to stop me. Unlike Kai or anyone else in my extended family, it's not his job to worry about what I do—just to watch over me while I do it.
I walk faster than I know I should, not wanting my aunts or anyone else to catch sight of me and send me back. But though the train is packed with people traveling to Grailhold for the Turning, I recognize no one in any of the open cars I pass through.
Finally I reach the observation car to find it blissfully uncrowded.
Taking a seat towards its further end, I stare through the glass and ornate iron lattice-work while Puka sniffs his way around the fixed tables and cushions. For now there's nothing to see but stony darkness.
I had meant to read or draw when I got here, at least until we cleared the tunnel. But I realize quickly that'll be impossible. They may not be in the car with me, but there are hundreds of people on this train—their embers no less bright or distracting for the walls between us.
And then there's that, outside—the enclosing stone and metal, the feeling of being trapped and weighed down as surely as if the mountain had actually collapsed in on us. At least I don't feel nearly as trapped as I did in the other cars with their narrow windows and crowds of passengers, though.
I don't have the car to myself for long. Within less than an hour people begin to trickle in, many of them Kolikai—immediately recognizable by their style of dress. Unlike Rhetrien, who'd worn all black and gray, these travelers boast an array of jewel-bright colors. One group is decked in shades of bronze, orange and fuchsia from head-to-toe, like walking sunsets. A few off chatting quietly to the side sport cinched robes of citrine and pale green, while their guards wear shades of blue and heather.
All of them have got thin metal shoulder-pieces fixed to their clothes like tiny, useless pauldrons. Some are very detailed—covered in jewels, dripping with chains, or embossed with heraldic crests of some kind.
I'd been intrigued by the Kolikai and their estranged nation since I first heard the story of Heir Vireshi, the Morovani girl who, instead of becoming Rhaj or Rhavani here in the Mirelands, was joined into Kolikai royalty instead. The first and only Mirish person in accepted history to leave the continent and live in another land—save the Kolikai themselves. Her union with the foreign Rhaj was the first step toward forging what we hoped would be a peaceful relationship between our nations and theirs.
It must have worked, because a few months ago, my parents announced that the Kolikai would be rejoining the Mirelands as its sixth nation. For the first time since they left us all those hundreds of years ago, we would be crowning not five new Rhajia, but six.
When I'd first heard the story of Vireshi, I couldn't stop myself from wondering what it was like—going off to a totally foreign and unknown land to be joined into Khejia to Heirs I'd neither met nor heard of.
What information that was available about that land and its peoples, I devoured. So I know about the signs, the caste system at the heart of Kolikai culture in which a person's place in life is determined by their date of birth. And I know that the different colors they wear denote which sign they belong to. I just don't know which is which.
I must be really lost in my thoughts, because I don't even see the light at the end of the tunnel until it's already filling the entire car. We're flying out the side of the mountain and into what looks like thin air—until I look up to see the iron framework of the bridge supports stretching overhead.
Then we're gliding along another mountain peak on a track that's carved into the rock itself. To the other side of us, a sea of mist flows through cascades of firs. Here and there pale points of stone stick up from among the trees. It's easy to see why they call this place the Wolf's Teeth.
My blood-father is Falruni, so I know the old Truesongs. One of them tells of how the wolf-god, Fal, had died here in this place. All of his body turned to stone and sank deep beneath the earth, save his toothy jaws. They became these mountains, forever ravening at the sky.
The moon periodically shows her face from between two jagged peaks, waxing half-full. Stewards come and go with burnished carts full of refreshments. I take a chilled khavfe with coanut cream to drink, and a little bit of everything where the food is concerned. The observation car is getting to be rather crowded at this point, not that I can blame anyone. Even with the darkening sky, the view is incredible.
And I think we're almost to the ruins.
My heart rate picks up at the thought alone. I've been both dreading and anticipating my return to Grailhold, for countless reasons. But of everything, I think it's this particular one that I'm most excited about. A glimpse, however brief it might be, of the Dead City. The ancient capital of what was once Kolikai, before the Morovani drove them off the continent.
I curse under my breath, having just bitten through my pistachio jelly-cream much too hard. An Ember that burns brighter than all the others is approaching, glaring across my consciousness, startling and distracting me. Their Ember. I glance towards the door as they enter, followed by another heather-clad guard. Rhetrien looks over in my direction and their lips curl in a brief smile—but their eyes don't meet mine. Then they go over to the group wearing fiery tones, joining in their chatter.
The train wends around and between a series of steep mountain crags, and then directly towards another so large it looms like an endless wall of stone ahead of us. An arched opening yawns before us, then it's as though we were hurtling into a midnight sky, only the stars have multiplied a thousand-fold, and they're violet. They stretch across the stone above us, cascading down the distant cavern walls. They even dust the towering structures of the vast city that sprawls through the shadowy depths below us. Bioluminescent lichen, the Iike of which grows nowhere else.
I lean forward, practically pressing myself against the glass. I drink in the sight of it, trying to capture the memory as clearly as possible. I'm definitely painting this later.
From here, the Dead City looks like a scene out of another world, a glowing labyrinth crawling up out of a black abyss. Then my breath catches in my throat. What the chasms is that?!
The city is on the outer edges of my Other Sense, so I shouldn’t sense any distinct Embers there, just a vague grouping of them. But I do sense something distinct, and not just any Ember. If others are like stars in the sky, than this one is like the sun—powerful, out-shining all else, somewhere directly below us.
It fades as we move on, leaving me wondering and baffled. Then motion catches my eye. Off in the distance, just above the tips of some of the highest buildings, a flock of four-winged creatures fly—silhouetted against the dim violet glow. They grow larger, coming towards us. But then we're over the chasm and speeding into a narrow tunnel, and they're gone. I sit back, feeling a mixture of elation and confusion.
People begin to trickle back out to the passenger cars, chatting excitedly.
I curl up sideways on my seat cushion with Puka at my side, my thoughts a tangled, whirling mess.
Dozing off, I wake a while later to someone nudging at my shoulder. Rolling over, I blink up to see the Hunter Guard who'd first accompanied me kneeling at my side.
"We've arrived, Dhajia."
