“I couldn’t agree more. An alliance with the Glassies is just the thing we need.”

Chapter Ten

Adele

Wilde didn’t mean for us to literally tell them how to defeat the earth dwellers, at least not right away. Which is good, because Tristan and I need to talk about it, think about it—talk and think about A LOT of things.

“Follow me,” Wilde says, and we all do, partly because none of us want to look at the beautiful monstrosity that is the Glass City, and mostly because we’re all too tired to argue.

She leads us down the slope and to the right, where a rock formation juts out from the sand. It’s large, roundish on one side with sharp protrusions of rock on the other. We head straight for one of the sheer sides of rock, facing away from the city.

As we approach, Wilde whistles, high and clear, and suddenly the rock ripples, folds, opens up to reveal a dark cave. Not rock, an animal-skin cover, stained to look like rock, almost perfect. A secret cave…but why so close to the enemy? There’s only one answer: spies.

A young head pokes from the opening, brown skinned, dark eyed. A guy. Shirtless, skin pulled tight across his pectorals and biceps. Basically the male version of Skye. Ripped.

“Hawk, you baggard,” Siena says, punching him on the arm.

“How ya doin, Skinny?” the guy answers with a smirk. He straightens up when he sees Wilde. “Uh, Wilde, uh, good to see you.”

“We need food and bedding,” Wilde says, waving us inside.

“Yeah, sure, right away,” Hawk says. He’s about to turn, but then notices Tristan and me. “What the—”

“Hawk—meet the pale-faces,” Skye says, pushing me past him and inside.

~~~

“Hawk’s a durt bag,” Siena says with a smile. Her arm’s around a bald girl who has tattoos winding around her bare arms, legs, and neck. She was introduced as Lara, an old friend of Siena’s. Apparently now a spy.

“A reformed durt bag,” Hawk clarifies. “I was sort of a bully growing up. Until I realized I was an idiot—that I was on the wrong side.”

We’re sitting inside the secret cave, which is quite a bit larger than I expected from the small opening on the outside. Eerie light glows from above us, entering through a largish hole in the roof, which I fully expect is covered with a rock-colored cloth during the day.

My mouth is full of the sort of crunchy, sort of chewy vegetable that Siena called prickler. It’s not half bad, although I’m so hungry I could probably eat raw meat from the Killer carcasses right now. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Tristan chews happily beside me, his knee touching mine. Evidently, the food’s woken both of us up a little.

“So yer Glassies?” Hawk asks, handing a plate of prickler salad to Siena.

“Reformed Glassies,” I say around my food. When Skye’s chin lifts and her eyes narrow, I hold up a hand. “I’m kidding. We’re not Glassies.” Skye’s lips part, so I say more forcefully, “We’re not. For the hundredth time, I swear it. On the sun goddess, moon goddess, rock goddess and every other goddess out there.”

“There’s no rock goddess,” Siena whispers.

“Look, let me explain things once and for all…” So I do. I tell them all about the Tri-Realms. The history. How they were dug out and formed before, during, and after Year Zero. The class system. The rebellion. What we learned about the Glass City and the earth dwellers before we came up. Everything leading up to our arrival except for the fact that Tristan has actually been inside the Glass City once before. Somehow I know that won’t help them to trust us.

When I finish, everyone’s plate is clean, and Hawk is dishing out bowlfuls of some kind of soup. Tristan takes the first one, raising an eyebrow in question. “’Zard soup,” Siena says, which means about as much to me as Cotee steaks would’ve before I came face to face with a pack of Cotees. “It’s better warmed up, but it’s too dangerous to light a fire this close to the Glassies.”

I nod and take a sip, feeling something slimy roll over my tongue. When I bite down on it, I find it’s somewhat chewy. I swallow twice, trying to keep it down. It might not be that tasty, but I need the energy.

While everyone’s busily slurp-chewing their soup, Skye looks at me, steel in her eyes. “Why would you help us against the Glassies, if they’re the same kind of people as you?”

Her question takes me by surprise. One, because I’ve never thought of myself as a “kind of people,” and if I did, I would most associate myself with moon dwellers, rather than all dwellers; and two, because I’ve been fighting against “my own people,” for so long, I’ve never really had to think about it.

Tristan nods at me. It’s a look he’s given me many times, that says, “I trust you, I believe in you, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.” If nothing else, it reassures me.

“I fight on the side of life,” I say. “For those who are being treated unfairly, against those who would seek to oppress others just because they can. We didn’t come to the earth’s surface to fight the Glassies. No, we came because we were curious, and because we wanted to give our people the same chance to live above as anyone else. Living in the dark, under mountains of rock, choked by dust, always hungry—that’s no kind of life. Not for anyone. We might’ve won the battle against Tristan’s father, but a war still rages below us, and our people are fighting for their lives just like yours. And at the center of it all is President Lecter and the Glassies. So maybe we’re not so different. Maybe we’re on the same side, after all. Does that make any sense?”

Although I’m looking from face to face as I speak, out of the corner of my eye I can tell Skye’s eyes never leave mine, never blink. When I finish, she says, “I understand what you mean more’n you could possibly know.”

Then she stands and pushes through the fake-rock flap and into the night.

Chapter Eleven

Siena

I can’t believe I’m looking at Lara right now. She looks great, tougher’n bones, as always.

Adele and Tristan and Wilde all went to sleep a while ago, curled up on tugskin mats, but although I’m exhausted, I can’t waste this chance to catch up with my friend. Even Skye wandered back in and dozed off. Now it’s just me, Lara, and Hawk.

“When did you become a spy?” I ask.

“A few weeks back,” Hawk says with a smirk.

“Not you, wooloo baggard,” I say, but I’m smiling as I say it. Although not that long ago I wished Hawk’d curl up in a hole and die, he’s truly turned things ’round for himself. I even sorta like the guy now. Not that that means I’ll cut him any slack.

“Almost right after you left for ice country,” Lara says. “You know me, I can’t sit still for long.”

“Don’t I know it,” I say, taking a sip of water.

“Have some of this,” Hawk says, passing me a water skin. I take a sniff.

“Whew! What’s this, fire juice? Should you really be drinking on the job, you shanker? Don’t you need your wits—however dim—’bout you in case the Glassies do something unexpected?”

“Told you,” Lara says, glaring at Hawk.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Hawk says, looking scareder’n a mouse under the shadow of a vulture with no hole in sight.

“Nah,” I say. “I should just be happy you’re not lighting ants on fire and beating up defenseless Midders.”

“Defenseless like you and Circ?”

“Circ was never defenseless,” I say. “And now, neither am I.” I grab my bow and fit it with a pointer faster’n you can say Reformed bully baggard. Hawk’s hands are up and over his head and he’s standing and backing away, but I shoot him anyway, right through the heart.