Atlantia

“Keep walking,” Fen says. “I’ll help you.”

I hear the surface change to the wooden floor of the room where we were hiding before, and I hear a door close, and then it gets dark all the way through me.

“Rio,” Fen says, but his voice is not one that can call me back.

Light appears in the corner of my vision. Soon the rest of the interior of the storage room comes into view—the closet, the dusty books on shelves.

“How long was I down?” I ask Fen, who sits near me, holding one of my hands.

“A while,” he says. “It’s afternoon now.” He lets go of my hand. “The Above isn’t good for you.”

“Not for you, either,” I say.

Fen starts to cough. It’s my turn to put a steadying hand on him.

“I wish you were Bay,” he says to me, between coughs.

“I wish you were True,” I say, and that makes Fen laugh and cough harder.

“Can you convince the people Above?” Fen asks, his voice raspy. “Can you do this?”

I remember what Maire told me, just before she saved me. The only chance of success is to trust in your own power.

“Yes,” I say. “I can.”

We hear someone at the door to the storage room. Could it be Ciro? Already?

I glance at the door and see that Fen locked it, the way Ciro told us to before he left. The handle is moving. It’s someone with a key. It could be Ciro, but if it’s him, why hasn’t he said anything?

Without a word Fen and I both head for the closet at the back of the room. I go inside first. Fen pulls it shut and locks it from the inside, and we hide behind the heavy robes. Even if they find a way to open the closet door, it’s deep enough and dark enough that they might not see us.

“I don’t have a key to the closet in here,” someone says, the cultured tone of his accent reminding me of Ciro, though it is certainly not him. The door to the storage room opens, and I hold my breath. “But perhaps this room itself will work for what you need?”

“Yes,” another man says, and I stiffen.

It’s Nevio.

Fen puts his hand on my arm. He thinks I’m going to pass out again, but I’m not. In fact I feel perfectly clear, the best I’ve felt since I was in the water coming to shore. Because I hear other noises. Gentle rustlings. Plaintive cries.

The temple bats are here.

Nevio must have brought them up with him when he came. But why? Is he kinder than I thought? Even though he killed all the sirens, did he have mercy for Atlantia’s second miracle?

“This will be enough space until we have more permanent quarters for them,” Nevio says, his voice rich and gorgeous, even more sonorous than it was Below. “I appreciate your allowing them to come live here. The temple will feel the most like home to them. Their caretaker is coming up on the next transport, and he will see to their upkeep and feeding. But for now this room will be sufficient.”

“Do they have trouble living away from Atlantia?” the other person asks. I wonder if he’s a member of the Council of the Above. “I know the sirens couldn’t last for long up here.”

“No,” Nevio says pleasantly. “The bats did not originate Below, as the sirens did. The bats are creatures of the Above that managed to stow away and survive the trip to Atlantia long ago.”

“So they’re not miracles?” the Council member asks.

“Of course not,” says Nevio. “The bats are simply creatures that were meant to be Above and were trapped somewhere else, much like myself and the rest of the Council of the Below.”

One of the bats cries out.

“In fact,” Nevio says, “the bats do very well up here. Before we made you the gift of the sirens, we sent up some of the bats for your scientists to study. They determined that these little animals can survive—even thrive—up here, though they apparently have a bit of a penchant for flying over the water at night.”

“But we must not let them do that,” the Council member says, trying to assert his authority. “We have to keep them caged. We can’t have creatures that once lived Below flying around freely in the Above.”

“I agree completely,” Nevio says. Is there an edge to his voice, or do I imagine it? But I am heartened to hear that the Council Above intends to oversee Nevio and the others.

Of course, Nevio may have other plans.

As soon as we hear them leave, I lunge for the closet door, pushing it open. Fen hisses at me to come back, but I have to see the bats. They tremble in their cages, but Nevio’s right. They seem healthy enough—bright eyes and clear breathing. It’s the cages that make them afraid.

“They’re not supposed to be locked up like this,” I say. “Especially not when night comes. That’s when they’re meant to fly free.”

“Why do you think he saved them?” Fen asks.

“I have no idea,” I say. I lean toward the cage, and some of the bats chatter their way closer to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they remember me. “But I know it’s for some selfish reason of his own. Not because he actually cares about them.”

“Nevio is rotten, all right,” Fen agrees.

Should I trust Fen? Should I tell him that Nevio is a siren?

True would tell Fen. True would trust him.

So I do.

Fen’s eyes widen in surprise but not for long. “I should have known,” he says. “It explains everything.”

“I know,” I say. “I can’t believe it took me so long to realize what he is.”

“But if he’s a siren, how does he plan to survive up here?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “He’s a different kind of siren than we’ve ever seen before. Maybe the Above doesn’t affect him.”

“He’s the people of the Above’s worst nightmare,” Fen says. “When you speak tonight, you have to tell them what he is.”

“But if I do that,” I say, “they’ll think they were right about the sirens. That the sirens can’t be trusted, that they should all die. I’ll never convince the people of the Above to let Atlantia live that way.”

“You’re right,” Fen says. “I didn’t think of that.” He bends down to look more closely at the bats, and they eye him balefully, which makes him laugh. “They like you,” he says, pointing to my hand, which I’ve rested on the cage. They don’t seem to mind, and they are calming down.