N.K. Jemisin - The Broken Kingdoms, Book 2 (The Inheritance Trilogy)

It was worse once. Sometimes it felt as if they were everywhere: underfoot, overhead, peering around corners, and lurking under bushes. They left glowing footprints on the sidewalks. (I could see that they had their own favorite paths for sightseeing.) They urinated on the white walls. They didnt have to do that, urinate I mean; they just found it amusing to imitate us. I found their names written in splattery light, usually in sacred places. I learned to read in this way.

Sometimes they followed me home and made me breakfast. Sometimes they tried to kill me. Occasionally they bought my trinkets and statues, though for what purpose I cant fathom. And, yes, sometimes I loved them.

I even found one in a muckbin once. Sounds mad, doesnt it? But its true. If I had known this would become my life when I left home for this beautiful, ridiculous city, I would have thought twice. Though I would still have done it.

I REMEMBER THAT IT WAS MIDMORNING .

Gardening was my favorite task of the day. Id had to fight for it, because my mothers terraces were famous throughout the territory, and she didnt quite trust me with them. I couldnt really blame her; my father still laughed over whatever Id done to the laundry that one time I tried.

Oree, she would say whenever I sought to prove my independence, its all right to need help. All of us have things we cant do alone.

Gardening, however, was not one of those things. It was the weeding that my mother feared, because many of the weeds that grew in Nimaro were similar in form to her most prized herbs. Fakefern had a fan-shaped frond just like sweet ire; running may was spiky and stung the fingers, same as ocherine. But the weeds and the herbs didnt smell anything alike, so I never understood why she had such trouble with them. On the rare occasions that both scent and feel stumped me, all I had to do was touch a leaf edge to my lips or brush my hand through the leaves to hear the way they settled into place, and I would know. Eventually, Mama had to admit that I hadnt tossed out a single good plant all season. I was planning to ask for my own terrace the following year.

I usually lost myself in the gardens for hours, but one morning something was different. I noticed it almost the moment I left the house: a strange, tinny flatness to the air. A pent-breath tension. By the time the storms began, I had forgotten the weeds and sat up, instinctively orienting on the sky.

And I could see.

What I saw, in what I would later learn to call the distance, were vast, shapeless blotches of darkness limned in power. As I gaped, great spearing shapesso bright they hurt my eyes, something that had never happened beforejutted forth to shatter the blotches. But the remnants of the dark blotches became something else, darting liquid tendrils that wrapped about the spears and swallowed them. The light changed, too, becoming spinning disks, razor-sharp, that cut the tendrils. And so on, back and forth, dark against light, neither winning for more than an instant. Through it all, I heard sounds like thunder, though there was no scent of rain.

Others saw it, too. I heard them coming out of their houses and shops to murmur and exclaim. No one was really afraid, though. The strangeness was all up in the sky, too far above our very earthly lives to matter.

So no one else noticed what I did as I knelt there with my fingers still sunk in the dirt. A tremor in the earth. No, not quite a tremor; it was that tension Id felt before, that pent feeling. It hadnt been in the sky at all.

I sprang to my feet and grabbed my walking stick, hurrying for the house. My father was out at the market, but my mother was home, and if some sort of earthquake was in the offing, I needed to warn her. I ran up the porch steps and yanked open the rickety old door, shouting for her to come out, and hurry.

Then I heard it coming, no longer confined to the earth, rolling across the land from the northwestthe direction of Sky, the Arameri city. Someones singing, I thought at first. Not one someone but manya thousand voices, a million, all vibrating and echoing together. The song itself was barely intelligible, its lyrics a single wordyet so powerful was that word that the whole world shook with its imminent force.

The word that it sang was grow.

You must understand. I have always been able to see magic, but Nimaro had been mostly dark to me until then. It was a placid land of sleepy little towns and villages, of which mine was no exception. Magic was a thing of the cities. I got to see it only every once in a while, and then always in secret.

But now there was light and color. It burst across the ground and the street, traced up every leaf and blade of grass and paving stone and wooden slat around the front yard. So much! I had never realized there was so much to the world, right there around me. The magic washed the walls with texture and lines so that for the first time in my life, I could see the house where Id been born. It outlined the trees around me and the old horse cart around the side of the houseI couldnt figure out what that was at firstand the people who stood in the street with mouths hanging open. I saw it alltruly saw, as others did. Maybe more than they did, I dont know. It is a moment I will hold in my heart forever: the return of something glorious. The reforging of something long broken. The rebirth of life itself.

That evening, I learned my father was dead.

One month after that, I set out for the city of Sky to start my own new life.

And ten years passed.

P LEASE HELP ME , said the woman. I recognized her voice immediately. She, her husband, and two children had looked overbut not boughta wall hanging at my table perhaps an hour before. She had been annoyed then. The hanging was expensive, and her children were pushy. Now she was afraid, her voice calm on the surface but tremolo with fear underneath.

What is it? I asked.

My family. I cant find them.

I put on my best friendly local smile. Maybe they wandered off. Its easy to get lost this close to the trunk. Where did you last see them?

There. I heard her move. Pointing, probably. She seemed to realize her error after a moment, with the usual sudden awkwardness. Ah sorry, Ill ask someone else

Up to you, I said lightly, but if youre talking about a nice clean alley over near the White Hall, then I think I know what happened.

Her gasp told me Id guessed right. How did you

I heard a soft snort from Ohn, the nearest of the other art sellers along this side of the park. This made me smile, which I hoped the woman would interpret as friendliness and not amusement at her expense.

Did they go in the alley? I asked.

Oh well The woman fidgeted; I heard her hands rub together. I knew the problem already, but I let her muddle through. No one likes to have their errors pointed out. Its just that my son needed a toilet. None of the businesses around here would let him use theirs unless we bought something. We dont have a lot of money.

Shed given that same excuse to avoid buying my wall hanging. That didnt bother meId have been the first to say no one needed anything I soldbut I was annoyed to hear that shed taken it so far. Too cheap to buy a wall hanging was one thing, but too cheap to buy a snack or a trinket? That was all we businesspeople asked in exchange for letting out-of-towners gawk at us, crowd out regular customers, and then complain about how unfriendly city dwellers were.

I decided not to point out that her family could have used the facilities at the White Hall for free.