Page 32 of Immortal Longings
“How was that?” Pampi asks.
CHAPTER10
San’s wall is a solid brick formation, traditional and archaic in ways that the twin cities themselves have long surpassed. The buildings inside rise with steel and plastic and machinery, blinking with neon lights that would blind the rest of Talin. In a way, the wall is not protection against the outsiders who flock en masse into the twin cities, but for these outsiders, to spare them just one second longer from laying eyes on the ruin within.
No onewantsto move to San-Er. No one prefers to be kept awake at night by persistent clanging and neighbors arguing and brothels screaming, especially not after living under the quiet skies in rural Talin. But with peace comes quicker starvation; with open ground comes no money. It is either their children’s graves lined up one by one outside the willow trees or a factory job in San-Er, and the choice is easy. Rural civilians make the slow shuffle through the guarded gates of San-Er, clutching their citizenship passes to their chest and blinking in awe at the colossal mess that awaits inside.
People starve in San-Er too, but at least they can say they tried.
From the top of the wall, August looks out into the provinces. Early morning draws its pinkish colors across the sky, and at such a height, the cold breeze finds him quickly, swirling around his arms like it wants to strip him bare. The smoke from Eigi’s capital has cleared. Construction has already started on their security base.
“All right.” Galipei clambers over the top of the ladder, short of breath. He exhales when he sees August, as if afraid that in the twenty seconds he was gone the crown prince could have somehow been abducted. “I don’t think there is anyone running patrol nearby. You’ll be undisturbed.”
“I told you we weren’t staying long,” August says.
Galipei comes to where August is standing, to the walkway that runs along the top of the wall. They are both pressed as close to the barrier as they can get, leaning upon the raised metal that serves to prevent patrol guards from accidentally tumbling down the wall if they misstep. There’s enough space up here for two people to be running patrol in each corridor, to walk past one another without trouble when they swap places at the watchtowers, which segment the wall into eight sections. The wall does not run in a straight line; it curves in and out at different places, a convex structure that tapers off at each end into the sea. Guards in the other sections cannot see into neighboring corridors, which means no one will mind August and Galipei while they are here, so long as they leave in the next fifteen minutes before shifts change.
And so long as neither of them steps outside the wall.
August takes the ornamental crown off his head with a sigh. Without its weight, he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the knots that have formed in the wind, easing the tension in his scalp. He doesn’t protest when he feels Galipei drop a hand onto the base of his neck. He tips his head down, letting Galipei work his fingers instead.
“Number Thirty-Nine was taken in and put into the palace cells last night,” Galipei reports.
“They decided to go after him?” That’s a surprise. “The girl survived, didn’t she?”
“She’s in the hospital recovering. Councilmember Aliha is making a right fuss, though. Kasa’s not going to go upsetting him.”
The brightening morning illuminates the dirt roads that lead toward the wall, where there will be shipments from Dacia coming in later. With one councilmember designated for each province, their power is limited to their province borders, but that is considerable power nonetheless. If Aliha is grumpy that his daughter was injured in the games, he won’t say it outright, but Dacia’s imports will suddenly get a little messy, a little delayed. King Kasa must punish the player who was foolish enough to invade the body of a councilmember’s daughter to make it right. The official rules make it very clear: jump if you want, but no harm is to come of nonplayers. Though the palace hand-waves its own edicts for the rest of the city, opting to foot the hospital bills instead of filling up the prison cells, it will not hand-wave where the nobility is affected.
“Kasa has bigger problems, if you want my opinion.”
Without prelude or context, Galipei seems to read where August’s mind has gone.
“There were more?”
“Numbers Eighteen and Forty-One were found dead last night on private properties, burned from the yaisu sickness and positioned in the Sican salute.” August speaks in the perfect imitation of an automated machine, no inflection or emotion in his words. “King Kasa insists that nothing is wrong.”
“You actually talked to him about it?”
August’s grip tightens on his crown. The spires and whorls sting his palm. This is a charlatan’s crown. This is a crown that does nothing, that gives him enough jewels to be allowed in and out of the palace but never to say anything of substance. “As soon as Leida brought in the news, I asked for permission to seeSan-Er’s entry and exit records. His Majesty says that I am making something out of nothing.”
The ladder rattles from the wind. Reaching up, August sets his other hand over Galipei’s, stilling his bodyguard. The sun has poked itself over the horizon, but San-Er’s sun these days doesn’t look anything like the images in their history books, nor like the scrolls of art left over from earlier reigns. It is a mere patch of light that moves along the sky according to the hour, too obscured by whatever has gathered up in the atmosphere to see any clear shape or outline.
In other parts of Talin, farther out into the kingdom, the sun shines clearer and the sky stretches with a more proper blue. But San-Er’s towering wall marks the limit for residents inside it, and so this dreariness is the most that city occupants are capable of seeing. The council has inquired before whether King Kasa might consider expanding the capital city. Extend the wall outward and add some of Eigi’s land to San to redistribute the population. The answer is always a resoluteno—it would be harder for the palace guard to keep peace; every new street corner would require surveillance and cameras; water, sanitation, electricity would need to be spread outward too, and how are they to afford it?
The palace can afford it just fine. King Kasa chooses not to.
“He doesn’t believe you,” Galipei states.
“When does he ever? If he can’t see it, it’s not happening.”
“He can’t deny that something is happening. These aren’t casualties of the games. No player could avoid surveillance like that.”
But then, whoistargeting them? Sican agents in the city is not only a far-fetched idea, but one with no discernible endgame.
August slots his crown back onto his head, and Galipei’s hand drops. Immediately, his neck feels much colder.
“Come on,” he says, starting for the ladder.
