The Continent (The Continent #1)(13)

I don’t know anything about territory disputes—the histories we read in school pertained more to items of cultural interest, and truly did not include much detail—but the northern corner of the Kinsho mountain range holds a particular interest to me: it is home to the Riverbed, a great canyon carved by water and ice. I’ve seen one or two phototypes of it, but its depiction on maps tends to vary depending on the cartographer. The opportunity to see it for myself is a dream come true.

“All set there?” my father asks, peeking around the seat.

“Oh, yes,” I say. “I only wish I had been able to requisition a camera from the Chancellery.”

Ever listening, Mrs. Shaw pipes up by making a sort of snorting sound. “Technology,” she says, “is best left in the hands of those who know how to use it. Look what happened when the Chancellery tried to fix up the train stations with those telly-phones—some idiot messed with all the wiring and circuit boards and whatnot, and set the whole Kinsey Metro on fire!”

“I remember that,” says Mr. Shaw. “What a mess.”

“Yes, and four people were dead by the end of it,” Mrs. Shaw replies. “No. I’m happy to call round and leave a card like a civilized person, not to ring through like an alarm bell into someone’s parlor when they’re least expecting it. Cameras, tele-video, computers—those are sorry things indeed, if you ask me.”

“Ah, but this heli-plane,” Aaden says. “This the height of technology and engineering! Surely you can appreciate something so sophisticated?”

“I can appreciate something without wishing it to be operated outside the supervision of qualified government professionals.”

My father laughs. “Well said, Mrs. Shaw. Very well said. In any case, Vaela, that mind of yours is as good as any camera, and your sketchbook more valuable than any phototype.” He gives my shoulder a pat, then disappears behind the seat.

Aaden smiles over at me. “I suppose you’re interested in the Riverbed?”

I cannot hide my pleasure. “I might have guessed you would know the topography, though I must say, I’m no less impressed!”

He laughs. “I know a thing or two about the Continent itself, you know. Not just the natives.”

“Most people have never heard of the Riverbed.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it. Although I must confess, its proximity to the Aven’ei-Topi border in the north is not unwelcome.”

I crinkle my nose. “You really go in for all the violence?”

He is silent for a moment. “Living in the Spire is like looking at the world from behind a veil—we don’t have a true sense of what things are like. Not really. I just want to see something real.”

“And bloodshed will satisfy that yearning?”

He shrugs. “It’s something.”

Mrs. Shaw begins yammering at her husband as to why he didn’t suggest she bring one or two bags along for the flight, as she’s dreadfully bored by all the snow and ice and sea. I give Aaden a quick smile and turn my attention back to the window, and to my sketchbook.

Shortly afterward, the pilot begins a slow descent, and we fly over a small Aven’ei village—a place complete with wood and stone buildings, piping chimneys, and what looks to be a market square. A long, winding road can be seen stretching northward—probably connecting the little hamlet to another settlement.

“It looks like an actual town,” Mr. Shaw says. “Could you have imagined?”

A couple of children point up at the heli-plane and wave their mittened hands, while a woman glares up at us and tries to corral the young ones. I know the natives can’t see me through the tinted glass, but I give the children a little wave anyway.

“Aren’t they little dears?” Mrs. Shaw says. “Such a shame they have to grow up in a place like this.”

The steward, all smiles, rises with a flourish from his seat at the front of the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you will allow me at this time to share some information about the Continent. In particular, a small geographical clarification may be of interest. The Continent, all told, encompasses a total area of approximately one million square miles—much smaller, as you know, than the land mass of the Spire, which comes in at around 3.9 million square miles. Now, to put that into perspective for you, the Lonely Islands—where the exiles and defectors abide, far to the east of the Spire—amass a total of only 32,000 square miles. So, while the Continent is neither the largest nor the smallest of the land masses on our beautiful planet, it is interesting to note that it is the least populated of all three.”

“How many natives?” asks my father.

“Recent estimates show the Topi at seventy-five to one hundred thousand, the Aven’ei at fifty to seventy thousand.”

“How can that be correct?” I say. “The histories have those numbers far higher.”

Aaden draws a finger across his neck. “Easy. They’ve nearly wiped each other out in the past two centuries.”

The steward nods gravely. “Unfortunately, young Mr. Shaw here is correct. The population has dwindled steadily, and most sharply in the past fifty years or so as tensions between the two tribes have escalated.”

“How very sad,” I say.

Mr. Shaw makes a disgruntled noise. “The natives won’t last much longer if they can’t find a way to mend fences, I suppose.”