The Continent (The Continent #1)(81)

“Now, Mr. Lowe,” the Chancellor says, frowning, “I think that’s a bit unfair. Peace is not a thing to be given, but to be chosen.”

“Do not speak of peace,” I say quietly. “Do not. Your words are but air, as weightless and empty as the breath in your lungs. You talk of resources and coin, amphitheaters and treasuries—as though any of these things are of consequence when the lives of thousands are at stake.”

Mrs. Pendergrast rolls her eyes. “Your na?veté does not become you, Miss Sun. Things may not be accomplished without coin and resources. This is a fact.”

“The Spire is a land of plenty. It could be done, and every one of you knows it.” I rise in a cold fury and fix my gaze upon the officials at the table. “Mr. Lowe alone shall sleep with the conscience of a man who understands the value of human life. As for the rest of you: do not doubt for a moment that the blood of the Aven’ei is on your hands.”

I burst through the doors in my rush to leave the Grand Hall, for suddenly the dark corners of the room seemed to press in from all sides. I hear the Chancellor calling to me in worried tones, asking me to return. But I do not stop. I want to be free of this place, this great nation that will do nothing to save the people I have come to love.

At the front of the building, a hundred or so steps lead down to the main road. I pause halfway down, looking for the car sent by Mr. Cloud. A drizzle of rain—no more than a fine mist, really—dampens my skin and hair.

The Chancellor appears at my side, breathless and distressed. “Vaela, my dear girl, please—will you come back inside?”

I look up at him, angry tears burning my eyes. “They all said you would refuse, you know. The Aven’ei. Almost to a man, they said that you would turn your back.” I shake my head. “But I said they were wrong, and I believed it, Chancellor! I believed in the Spire. I believed in you. And now I must go back and tell them that all of this was for naught. No help is to come. Only death.”

He wipes his forehead with a handkerchief, a puzzled expression on his face. “Go back? Whatever do you mean?”

“You don’t think I intend to stay here, do you?”

“But of course you must stay here! You have inherited a sizable fortune, my dear, and you have your work with Mr. Sussenfaal—”

“I should stay in the Spire to draw maps?” I say, incredulous. “Tell me, Chancellor—what has a map ever brought to me but grief, or death, or heartache? Piss on your maps. I am going back to the Continent. I will have Mr. Cloud make the arrangements.”

I turn away, but he catches me by the shoulder. “I don’t think you quite understand me, young lady. You will not be returned to the Continent. I wouldn’t send another heli-plane to that foul place for all the gold in the Chancellery.”

I smile unpleasantly. “You do not have a choice, sir.”

“I beg your pardon? You forget yourself, Miss Sun, and—”

“It is you who forgets, Chancellor. My parents died on the Continent. By law, I may reside for as long as I wish in the nation where they were lost—to grieve, to mourn, to spend my days in vigil if that is what I desire.”

His eyes narrow. “That regulation refers to the North, South, East and West. There are no nations on the Continent; only savages pretending at civilization.”

“I will be returned to the nation of the Aven’ei,” I say. “If you refuse me, I will make it my life’s purpose to visit every corner of the Spire, recounting every detail of what has taken place. I will omit nothing—and I dare say the common folk will find your decision to abandon the Aven’ei as horrifying and unpalatable as I do. You know how much your Spirians like a good cause.”

His lip curls in anger. “You dare to threaten me?”

“I dare nothing, Chancellor, for I have nothing at all to lose.”

He leans toward me, his face inches from my own. “You would incite a war—the very thing you claim to abhor so passionately.”

“No. I would educate a people as to what their peace has truly bought: a government that amounts to no more than five people sitting at a table, deciding the fate of the world.”

He gives me a sardonic smile. “A great many things are decided at tables, dear girl. The fate of the world is but one.”

“Make your choice, sir. Shall I sing my song to the people of the Spire, or will you send me to the Continent, where I belong?”

He regards me coolly before speaking. “Have you been in contact with anyone since your arrival yesterday? Friends, family, anyone at all?”

“No. I presume you want me to keep it that way?”

He nods. “You died once, and seem intent on dying again, only with greater success this time around.”

“My extended family,” I say. “And my friends—my dearest friend, Evangeline Day—”

“They need never know of your survival and subsequent suicide. I shall send you back to the natives, if that is what you truly desire. But I warn you to think carefully on this, for if you choose this path, you will never again be welcome to return. The Spire will be lost to you forever.”

“Make the arrangements,” I say. “I will happily leave this place behind.”





CHAPTER 29