Crewel

  ‘You couldn’t have prevented it,’ Loricel tells me.

  ‘I could have. I’ve been fighting them since the moment they arrived at my house. If I’d come along willingly, my parents would be alive and Amie would be safe. Enora and Valery’s secret would be safe. She and Valery—’

  ‘Would be living half a life,’ Loricel stops me. ‘Don’t overestimate your culpability. Death is the only escape for us.’

  ‘But that’s what I don’t get,’ I admit. ‘Maela told me there was no escape, even in death.’

  Loricel presses her lips together. ‘I’m not sure exactly what Maela means. Her ambition makes her a powerful woman in her own right. Because of it, she knows much more about the Guild’s inner operations than the rest of us.’

  ‘What happens to people when they die before their thread is ripped?’

  ‘It happens so rarely—’

  ‘But it does happen,’ I press.

  ‘Occasionally. And when it does, we remove the remains of the thread,’ she says.

  ‘Remains?’ I recall the intricate strings that bind tightly together to make up a single whole thread.

  ‘When someone dies before a removal request is completed, part of their strand . . .’ Loricel pauses and meets my eyes. ‘Disappears.’

  A chill runs through my entire body. ‘Where does it go?’

  ‘They aren’t sure. That’s why they’re so careful to remove weakened strands themselves. It’s why they capture enemies first or rip them directly. The Guild wants control over removed threads.’

  A thousand questions are racing through my head, threatening to spill out at once. It’s a lot to consider – plots and remapping. I take a deep breath and decide on one to ask first, before the others. ‘Why do they care what happens to the removed threads?’

  Loricel shrugs. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then who cares what happens to the parts that disappear?’

  ‘When I first began at the Coventry, we didn’t do pre-emptive removals. We simply patched and removed the remains. About fifty years ago, that changed,’ she explains.

  ‘What do you think happens?’ I ask. Even if I’m not sure I believe everything she’s told me about Earth and the origin of Arras, she still knows more than anyone else.

  ‘I think the part of the thread that disappears goes back into Arras.’

  ‘Into the weave? But wouldn’t that provide new raw material?’ I ask.

  ‘Theoretically.’ A note of distrust rings in her voice. ‘It could strengthen Arras.’

  ‘Then why rip them pre-emptively? Why not utilise them?’

  ‘The Guild doesn’t trust what it can’t understand. Letting those people go is an act of faith they’re incapable of.’

  I know she’s right, but I still don’t fully understand the Guild’s motives for the pre-emptive removals, and I don’t think Loricel does either. This is about more than control.

  ‘I don’t understand why they don’t tell us about Earth or remnants. There has to be a reason they don’t want us to know about them. Even you think it’s important enough to tell me,’ I point out.

  ‘Some things shouldn’t be forgotten.’

  ‘Remembrance is never useless,’ I say, recalling my mother’s wise, quiet smile whenever she spoke those words to me as a child. My fingers twist to the techprint on my wrist.

  ‘It’s important that you understand where we come from, Adelice. Especially if you will be assisting in the mining operations,’ she continues. ‘Earth’s resources can’t last forever, not if the Guild tries to mine without the support of a Creweler. They won’t have anyone who can see the raw materials, but that won’t stop them from trying.’

  ‘Wait, if we’re pulling the material from the surface,’ I say, my eyes growing wide, ‘then Earth is frozen!’

  Loricel cocks her head to the side and regards me thoughtfully. ‘So you’ve discovered warping.’

  Warping – that’s the perfect word for it. The moments I made in my quarters weren’t frozen, they were warped. I take a deep breath and admit my secret to her. How I can touch time without a loom. I even tell her about the separate moments I’ve woven, but I leave Jost out of my stories.

  ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I knew you could do it, but I had no idea you knew.’

  ‘It was a happy accident,’ I say. I’m instantly drawn back to the stolen moments spent with Jost in my room. I look away so she won’t see me blush.

  ‘Are you leading with your left hand?’ she asks.

  I pause and consider the question. ‘I don’t honestly know. We were taught to lead with our right on the loom, so I don’t think so. Does it make a difference?’

  ‘You’re left-handed,’ she says. ‘Crewelers always are. It allows us not to be constrained by the forward motion of time. That’s what helps us catch it.’

  ‘Should I always use my left hand?’ I ask, flexing my left hand’s fingers now and staring at them in wonder.

  ‘No.’ Loricel shakes her head. ‘It’s very powerful. If you can warp with your right hand, or using both hands at the same time, it’s much safer until you’ve truly honed your ability. The fact that you can warp without starting with the left is impressive. But be careful.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, inhaling deeply.

  ‘There’s something else you have to understand about warping,’ she explains, holding out a hand in warning. ‘Yes, it pauses the moment around you. But it also puts you on a different time line. Within the warp, you can live a whole life.’

  ‘Can I die there?’ I ask. Would wasting away slowly with Jost be better than a quick, painless remap? I’d be dead either way.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And I would be dead everywhere – in the warp and in the real world?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says emphatically.

  ‘But the world outside,’ I say, biting my lip slightly in concentration, ‘is locked in that moment.’

  ‘That’s what you have to understand,’ Loricel says, leaning toward me. ‘Only the moment where you’ve caught the time is frozen. Essentially you’ve created a field of safety. The time and matter around it is frozen and no one can enter it. But merely in the immediate area where you’ve warped the weave.’

  ‘Outside that, time continues?’

  ‘Yes. And eventually the Guild would be able to break through your warp, but it would take a while.’

  It’s a warning not to put too much faith in my happy little bubble. It can only keep me safe for so long and certainly not long enough to make much difference.

  ‘Can you move backwards along the time line of the warp?’ I ask, my voice filled with hope.

  ‘You already know the answer to that,’ she says, shaking her head sadly. ‘You can’t turn back time. We can harvest it, and stop it in the mining fields, but the time lines always move forward.’

  ‘Then Earth?’ I prompt.

  She sits back in her seat and clasps her hands in her lap. ‘There are dead spots in the mining locations where the coventries rest. These are where we capture the time and elements for Arras. The drills create warps in those locations that freeze the Earth around them.’

  ‘But outside the warped areas, the rest of it is untouched? There could be people there still!’

  ‘I doubt that,’ she says with a hint of sadness. ‘The only people left on Earth were bent on its destruction.’

  I frown, watching Arras spread around me through the wall illusion. What lay beneath it?

  ‘You know, I promised Enora I would never tell anyone I could weave without a loom,’ I confide.

  Loricel gives me a sad smile. ‘She was protecting you. She knew it would mark you as a Creweler, but you must have known the Guild was aware of your talent.’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry her,’ I admit. ‘And I thought maybe if I pretended not to know they would think they had made a mistake.’

  ‘Your mentor did the best she could in the situation, as did you.’

  Kind, protective Enora. Only o
ne thing I’ve learned today comforts me. ‘So Enora,’ I say slowly, ‘was reabsorbed.’

  ‘Part of her was,’ Loricel says.

  Some part of her escaped. This makes me smile.

  ‘Adelice,’ Loricel says, breaking into my thoughts, ‘did she say anything to you before she . . .’

  ‘No.’ I focus on the memory of our last meeting, combing through the conversation in my head. ‘She was acting strangely though. I knew something was different.’

  ‘Cormac is obsessed with why she did it,’ Loricel confides. ‘He cannot confirm whether her suicide was prompted by the procedure or by her guilt over her relationship with Valery.’

  ‘Is that why Valery was ripped?’

  ‘He was angry,’ she says. ‘The remap should have reprogrammed Enora, but Valery reached out to her. He blamed her for Enora’s confusion, but he can’t be sure what caused Enora to act.’

  ‘Then Pryana tattled.’ It’s the only way Cormac could have known that Valery had approached Enora after her remap. I should have known from the smug look on her face at dinner. ‘I guess a vendetta outweighs someone’s life.’

  ‘Do not discount the power of paranoia either. If this girl was raised to be an ideal Eligible, she probably bought into all the nonsense the Guild sells its citizens,’ Loricel advises.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘Pryana, Valery – they were just pawns in Cormac’s and Maela’s games. They did this to Enora.’ And they’re going to pay, I add silently.

  Loricel leans forward and takes my hand. ‘There’s no way to know for sure what happened, because we haven’t found any evidence. No note. No diary. Not a thing.’

  ‘Are you saying someone else—’

  ‘No,’ she says. ‘Enora took her own life, but her initial map showed she was conflicted. Her thoughts were unbalanced, but none of her answers indicated that she was suicidal.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, dropping Loricel’s hand. ‘She was living a lie.’

  ‘Perhaps, but, unfortunately, she left nothing behind. We cannot question Valery. If she said nothing to you –’ Loricel pauses meaningfully, as though she’s waiting for me to contradict this – ‘then we will never know.’

  Even though I’m telling her the truth, Loricel’s gaze is so penetrating that I start to feel guilty. Shifting back on the divan, I press my lips together, trying to think of a way to change topics. ‘So are you going to train me?’ I ask.

  ‘You do not need training,’ she says.

  ‘But you said—’

  ‘I am buying you time.’ Her piercing look gives way to one of exasperation.

  It only makes me feel worse. Loricel’s given everything for Arras, but I’m so selfish that she doesn’t expect me to sacrifice myself. All I can think to say is thank you.

  ‘Now go use it,’ she says, shooing me out of the studio.

  I slip out of the tower and past the guard. He looks at me closely, the way men regard a weakling. The last thing I need is for him to send for an escort.

  ‘Loricel sent me for something in the lower studios,’ I lie.

  I’m certain he doesn’t believe me from the way his eyes squint together, but he lets me go.

  I rush back toward my quarters before anyone can reach me. Loricel might not believe Cormac is responsible for Enora’s death, but I saw what he did to her. Even if she felt trapped here, she wasn’t desperate. She seemed happy obsessively picking each outfit I wore, right down to the shoes. And she was so protective of me. She cared too much about me to just abandon me. She’d even gone to all the trouble of getting me a digifile when I had to travel around Arras, and she had warned me about Erik.

  The digifile!

  Suddenly the lift seems to slow down and the buttons light up for each floor in slow motion. Five more left. Four. I hate living so high up! As soon as the doors open I dash out. The digifile is resting safely under my pillow, and I snatch it up.

  Sliding my fingers across the screen, I frantically open folders and programs. There are games. Catalogues. An application that patches me into the daily weather programming for each sector. Nothing. It was only a gift. It’s stupid to be so disappointed. Loricel’s pushing had me believing Enora cared enough to – I don’t know – tell me why, or at least say goodbye or something.

  ‘It can’t be,’ I mutter. Erik and Jost were so surprised to see me carrying the device on that trip – it must mean something. I wish I could go to Jost now and ask why they acted that way, but that would draw attention to him.

  I pick the digifile back up and start combing through the programs more slowly. A weather program. I think back to the first time I met Enora, when she caught me weaving a thunderstorm. Scanning through the weather application, I find a file labelled Precipitation. The rest of the program is organised by date and month. I press down on the file and wait for it to load, my heart pounding at the possibility of answers or information. Even a simple farewell.

  Inside there’s another file, marked Thunder. I open it and a dozen smaller files appear. The first reads, To Adelice.

  20

  I pull out every tailored suit in my wardrobe and hang them on my bathroom door. The digifile slips into most of the tiny pockets on each jacket, but I have to rip the basting stitches out of some. No matter what, I’m keeping the small pad with me from now on. I’ve renamed Enora’s note for added safety. At least now I know where to start, even if not much else is clear.

  The digifile contains information that I’m pretty sure could get me killed. Maps. Tracking systems. But it’s Enora’s note that burns in my brain. I think I could stand to have them find everything in those folders but that. It’s too personal. But even though I’ve read it so many times I have it memorised, I can’t bring myself to erase it. It plays on repeat in my head, spoken in Enora’s soft voice. Her written words sound so much like her that reading them makes me hurt like I’ll break into pieces.

  Dear Adelice,

  If you found this by accident, close this file. Nothing in here will do you any good, and you know I won’t like it if you get into trouble!

  But if you came looking for it that means you’re ready for answers. I assume you’d come to me in person. So first of all, I’m sorry for leaving you. I wish I could prove to you that I fought to stay. I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway, but now that I’m gone the only person you can trust is Loricel. Please believe that she will help you when you need it.

  That said, there are answers you have been searching for, and you should find them on your own. I’ve given you everything I can to help you do this, but protect these files or I’m afraid they’ll come after you.

  And finally, Adelice, don’t be sad for me. I’m free, and it is my sincerest wish that you will be as well. That’s why I’ve fought to protect you, and it’s why I’m giving this to you now. You’re a smart girl. Keep your wits and trust your instincts, and you’ll be fine. And don’t ever forget who you are.

  With love,

  Enora

  Her words offer small comfort, but they do give me hope. I choose a lavender suit to wear to dinner, and I’m sliding on the clingy skirt when there’s a knock at the door. Shimmying into the jacket, I stash the digifile in my left pocket, right below my heart.

  Cormac’s at the door. This can’t be good.

  ‘Come in,’ I say, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice and failing. I giggle a little, hoping I look like the nervous, awestruck girls that made up my cohort. Although it may be a little late to go fanatic on him.

  He enters without a word and wanders around the perimeter of my room, stopping to finger the suits hung over my door. ‘Packing?’

  ‘No,’ I say, grabbing the clothing to shove back into my closet. ‘I like to plan my wardrobe for the week.’

  ‘On Wednesday?’ he asks, calling my bluff.

  I stuff the suits in with my other dresses and slam the doors to the wardrobe closed. Taking a deep breath, I whirl around to face him. ‘Can I help you with something???
?

  ‘No,’ he says with a shrug. ‘It occurred to me I’ve never seen your quarters.’

  ‘Here they are.’

  ‘Amazing what technology can do,’ he murmurs. ‘Did you know that each room in the high tower is woven to appeal to the Spinster assigned to it? It’s very time-consuming to do so, but we want you to be happy here.’

  ‘I love my room,’ I tell him, and it’s the truth. The cosy room with plush, oversized cushions is my home. It’s the first place that has ever belonged only to me. But I would trade it for the cramped bedroom I shared with Amie in a heartbeat.

  ‘It’s nice,’ he says, glancing around him. ‘Not my taste exactly. I tend towards a more modern look.’

  He drifts over to sit on the edge of my bed, and I make a mental note to send for fresh linens as soon as he’s left.

  ‘Can I order something for you?’ I ask.

  ‘Martini. Neat.’

  I repeat this to the companel – having no idea what a neat Martini is – and make sure the kitchen staff knows it’s for Cormac. Then I wait by the door for it to arrive. It comes with the customary speed of anything meant for an official, and I let the valet bring it to Cormac.

  Taking a seat in a chair by the hearth, I start counting each breath I take and release. I get to twenty before he speaks.

  ‘No doubt Loricel warned you about the remap,’ Cormac says, but he doesn’t wait for me to confirm this. ‘I want you to know there are other options.’

  ‘And the price?’ I ask, keeping my eyes level with his.

  ‘See that’s what I like about you – all business.’

  Something in the way he says ‘like’ sends me recoiling back into my chair, but I keep my mouth shut.

  ‘The Guild needs to know that you can be counted on to serve the people of Arras,’ he says, setting his drink on the tray. ‘Right now your loyalty is debatable.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything to make them question me,’ I say in a voice that dares him to deny it.