ISMENE AND THE VOICE samples, 2/3

Eryx, in ambit. Next excerpt tomorrow 11/10.

From ISMENE AND THE VOICE, soon posting:

Eryx leaned against the door, listening to the shouting beyond, looking down the hallway she’d entered. The silence was voluminous, not-quite-silent, in the way that the Castle always seemed to be. It was all around her.

Where in the Castle was she? How had she gotten here?

She’d let the box of spindles topple over. They’d gone everywhere, and three of the spinning frames had had their work interrupted. Part of her knew that this had happened years ago, when she was tiny. Part of her knew that it didn’t make sense to be fleeing from her angry manager and the frame workers, not in the Castle. They’d forgotten about her long ago.

She’d hated the factory. It was loud and dusty and dangerous, and everyone always snapped at the little ones. Her whole crèche had been packed into a dorm, right along with the grown-ups, and she’d missed the crèche mother so much.

She’d learned later that their worker contracts had been signed for them, since the kids couldn’t write.

She didn’t remember what happened after everyone had gotten mad about the spindles. She didn’t know how she’d found the Castle guest hallway, but she knew she’d be safe in her room. She’d pulled the heavy door open with difficulty, tiny as she was. But now that she was inside, this wasn’t her room. It was a hallway, dark and gleaming with the lights running through the veined stone.

It had grown quiet. Eryx turned around and looked up at the door. Ah. It wasn’t her room door, after all. It was the vast double-doors that she’d seen with Ismene, on the way up into the Library. The forbidden ones.

Eryx was on the wrong side of the doors, and there was something forbidden down the dark hallway. At any moment, a Hand might find her.

In the way of dreams, she had the door open to the outside before she could really ask herself why she’d do something so dangerous. If her manager caught her, she’d be dead. But she couldn’t stay where she was; she couldn’t be caught by the Hands, either.

Outside, on the landing between stairwells, skulls were laid out. They were placed in an even grid, grinning at her from each row. Her manager was nowhere; ah; no. He was here. His remains were piled up against the far wall, tangled up in his blue clothes and pale badge.

Of course. She would outlive everyone she knew, here. Because it was a dream, Eryx knew this, and it seemed right.

She stood at the border crossing. There were more dead there. Piles of ancient remains, left there to rot. They all wore blue, and Eryx knew who they were meant to be. Her workmates. The grown-ups she’d hated so, who snapped at her all the time. The kind ones, who’d helped her learn things. Her crèche-sibs, all made into workers like her. They’d tried to come for her. All of them were gone.

The thoughts came suddenly: She was free. She could do as she liked. She didn’t have to concern herself with them any longer.

But I want to, Eryx thought. I didn’t want them to just die. We deserved better. I want things to get better for everyone, so we don’t have to be—

She woke up.