The Uphill had taken news of Mariel’s supposed return to life with much less enthusiasm than the Downhill. Kess climbed endless sets of whitewashed stairs, her passage through the city remarkably eased with her brother Oliver at her side.
Each checkpoint was the same; Oliver’s red and white sash got them through sets of Witchblades with a simple snap of Fulminancy and a nod, as looks of distaste were thrown Kess’s way. Kess found the distaste mutual— she had no desire to be Uphill either. Oliver relaxed as they climbed, but Kess couldn’t help but think that she was entering the belly of the beast.
After another checkpoint allowed them passage into a whitewashed terrace stuffed with manicured plants, people, and those revolting lights, Oliver turned towards her, murmuring quietly. “Kess, if you don’t relax, the city guard is going to accuse me of kidnapping my own sibling.”
“Which isn’t so far from the truth,” Kess said, gripping her sash to hide shaking hands. Oliver sighed, his hair falling into his face, a lighter brown than Kess’s own.
“You know, I’ll never understand your disdain for the Uphill,” he said. He gestured towards laughing tables of well-dressed men and women, lit by those ghastly lights overhead. In the corner of the plaza, several musicians played, and Kess had to admit that they were good, though she’d heard men and women just as talented in Draven’s tavern. “They’re no different from anyone Downhill,” Oliver continued as they walked. “Just better dressed, which reminds me— we need to do something about your outfit.”
“It’s not about the people,” Kess said carefully. “It’s about the…you know.” She flinched as a man nearby juggled a ball of Fulminancy between his hands as a gaggle of young women looked on in awe. She gave the man a wide berth as she steered Oliver away, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with my outfit. It’s clean. It’s simple. Plenty of women wear trousers, even Uphill.”
“It’s not about the trousers, dear sister— it’s about the style.” He nodded towards a group of women wearing admittedly nicer trousers than Kess, and she fought to hide an eye roll. Oliver was downright obsessed with the fashion trends of the Uphill, and his time spent within the confines of a major Fulminant university wasn’t helping matters. “Embroidery is all the rage these days,” he continued, smiling at the women as they passed. “What you’re wearing is…” He trailed off, looking at her plain trousers and white shirt with distaste. “Pedestrian.”
“Utilitarian,” Kess argued. “Besides, people would find it odd if a striped orange sash wandered the city wearing expensive clothing.”
“You were red just yesterday.”
“And now I’m orange,” Kess said, giving her brother a broad, mostly fake smile as they crossed the square. The smile fell from her face immediately when she saw where Oliver was leading her— a tavern blindingly lit with Fulminant energy that spilled into the streets outside with a blue flash every few seconds. Her pace slowed, and she turned to survey her brother’s own clothing— a fine mix of jackets and deeply dyed garments that had probably cost him months of Kess’s rent Downhill.
She tugged at his red and white sash, frowning. It was her family’s own sash— a respectable Uphill rank that would get the two of them into all but the most exclusive Blackhill gatherings. “Do you have to wear that?” she asked, stalling.
Oliver blinked for a moment, as if unsure what she meant. Then his eyes fell to the sash and he let out an exasperated sigh. “Our family colors?” he asked. “What else am I supposed to do, Kess, go naked? Clouds, they’re your colors too. I don’t know why you insist on trading sashes as often as you change clothes.”
“No one needs to know where I’m from,” she said quietly. “Least of all the Witchblades.”
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“Sister, please. That term is barbaric,” Oliver said, grimacing. “Do me a favor and call them by their proper names. They’re just doing their job to keep the city safe.”
And to keep the rifraff out of the Uphill, Kess thought bitterly. Then again, she’d chosen her station. What did she have to complain about? Oliver slung a large arm over her shoulders and steered her towards the tavern. There was little she could do to fight it without making a scene, so she let him, her mind running through a litany of excuses to leave early. She wouldn’t have shown up at all, but her time with Oliver was limited; she intended to make the most of what she did have, even if her brother insisted on making her as uncomfortable as possible.
“Safe from what?” Kess finally asked, irritated. “Their own people? Hillcrest hasn’t seen war in hundreds of years. The least they could do is…”
She trailed off as Oliver pushed her through the doorway into the tavern. The unnatural light flashed eerily, impossible to miss even mixed as it was among traditional lanterns and a crackling hearth at the edge of the open room. Men and women much more expensively dressed than either of the two of them occupied booths at the edge of the room. In the center, raised on a pedestal, a trio of Fulminant women wearing the red and blue sashes of a Master wove their Fulminancy throughout the room, the slight hues of their individual power tinting the lightning gold, pink, and purple respectively. The patrons laughed and cheered as the Fulminancy crept around the tavern in a series of snaps and buzzes.
Kess’s stomach churned violently. Only Oliver’s hand on her shoulder kept her from turning on her heel to leave. He swept her into a booth before she could gather her wits. Mercifully, it was at the edge of the room, tucked away from the Fulminant pedestal. Kess let out a jagged breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she took a seat facing the wall. She usually preferred to watch the doorway— a nervous habit she’d picked up from living Downhill— but she realized she’d be better off trying to ignore the Fulminancy behind her.
It was still hard to fake normalcy as Oliver’s face lit up different colors. He smiled, his eyes flashing with the light as he watched the women perform.
“Can’t find anything like this Downhill, can you?” he asked, smiling. “I mean look at them— years of training to do something like that. They put in the little studs of metal at the edges of the room to make it a little easier for performers, but to stretch Fulminancy that far is impressive nonetheless.”
He watched the performers for a long stretch of silence while Kess fought to find a position in the booth where she could be comfortable. It was more than the padded seat, she knew— it was the death crackling behind her. A serving woman brought out drinks, and Oliver met her eyes again, something gleaming in his own.
Kess shook her head immediately. “No,” she said, picking up her drink. “We’re not discussing this again.”
“Kess,” Oliver said, his voice softening. “If what you told me was true, what you have dwarfs what those women do. You don’t have to spend your life in anonymity. You don’t have to fight Downhill. You could be someone, dear sister. Someone grand. Even the Council doesn’t—“
“That’s enough,” Kess said, setting down her drink. It was a bitter tea, and the amber liquid sloshed slightly as she did so. “Do we have to have this conversation every time we meet one another? Besides, I told you— it’s all gone.”
“After that night?” he asked quietly. Kess nodded, though she looked away as she did so. She hadn’t told Oliver the entire story of that night so many years ago. She was trying to repair their relationship, not destroy it after so long apart. Still, the half truths she gave her brother bothered her more than she wanted to admit. “Nothing a few Uphill healers can’t fix,” Oliver said, nonplussed. “People lose Fulminancy for one reason or another all the time. They get hit too hard in a ring, or maybe burn themselves out trying to use it too often, or they try something beyond their skill level. We see it all the time at the university. Sadly we can’t do anything for people born Duds, but for someone like you—“
“I don’t need fixing,” Kess said, hand tightening around her drink. The cup seared her hand with its warmth. “I—“ She hesitated for just a moment. Then, as Fulminancy snapped behind her, she made a sudden decision. “Oliver, I’m leaving the city. Tomorrow.”