Legend

liquid, or steam. There’s probably a whole system of pipes down there, something that leads all the way out to the lake. Maybe all around the sector. I brush aside more dirt, but no other symbols or words appear. The number looks faded with age, the paint chipped away in little flakes.

I stay there for a while, quietly studying it. I glance one last time through the vent at the bedroom, then make my way out from under the porch, into the shadows, and away into the city.

I WAKE UP AT DAWN. THE LIGHT MAKES ME SQUINT (where is it coming from—behind me?), and for an instant I’m disoriented, unsure of why I’m sleeping in an abandoned building facing the ocean with sea daisies growing at my feet. A sharp pain in my stomach forces a gasp out of me. I’ve been stabbed, I realize in a panic. And then I remember the Skiz fight and the knife and the boy who saved me.

Tess hurries over when she sees me stir. “How are you feeling?”

She still looks wary of me. “Sore,” I mutter. I don’t want her to think that she wrapped my wound badly, so I add, “Much better than yesterday, though.”

It takes me a minute to realize that the boy who had saved me is sitting in the corner of the room, dangling his legs over the balcony and looking out toward the water. I have to hide my embarrassment. On a normal day, with no knife wound, I never would’ve let a detail like that go unnoticed. He went somewhere last night. When I was slipping in and out of sleep, I’d made a mental note of the direction he took (south, toward Union Station).

“I hope you don’t mind waiting a few hours before eating,” he says to me. He’s wearing his old newsboy cap, but I can see a few strands of white-blond hair beneath it. “We lost the Skiz bet, so there’s no money left for food right now.”

He blames me for his loss. I just nod. I recall the sound of Day’s crackly voice from the speakers and compare it quietly to this boy’s. He looks at me for a while without smiling, as if he knows what I’m doing, then returns to his vigil. No, I can’t be sure the voice belongs to him. Thousands of people in Lake could match that voice.

I realize that the mouthpiece in my cheek is still turned off. Thomas must be furious with me. “Tess,” I say. “I’m going to head down to the water. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“You sure you can make it by yourself?” she asks.

“I’ll be fine.” I smile. “If you see me floating unconscious out to sea, though—by all means, come and get me.”

The steps of this building definitely used to be part of a stairwell, but now they sit open to the outside. I get to my feet and limp down the stairs one at a time, careful not to slip off the side and plummet down to the water. Whatever Tess did last night seems to be working. Although my side still burns, the pain is a little duller and I can walk with less effort than yesterday. I make it down to the bottom of the building faster than I thought I would. Tess reminds me of Metias, of how he’d nursed me back to health on the day of his induction.

But I can’t handle memories of Metias right now. I clear my throat and concentrate on making my way to the water’s edge.

The rising eastern sun is now high enough to bathe the entire lake in a shade of murky gold, and I can see the tiny strip of land that separates the lake from the Pacific Ocean. I head all the way down to the floor of the building that sits right at the water’s surface. Every wall on this floor is collapsed, so I can walk straight out to the building’s edge and ease my legs into the water. When I look into the depths, I can see that this old library continues for many floors. (Perhaps fifteen stories tall, judging from how the buildings on the shore sit and how the land slopes from the shoreline. Approximately six stories should be underwater.)

Tess and the boy sit at the top of the building, several stories above me, safely out of hearing range. I look back at the horizon, click my tongue, and turn on my microphone.

Static buzzes from my earpiece. A second later, I hear a familiar voice. “Ms. Iparis?” Thomas says. “Is that you?”

“I’m here,” I murmur. “I’m well.”

“I’d like to know what you’ve been up to, Ms. Iparis. I’ve been trying to contact you for the past twenty-four hours. I was ready to send some soldiers to collect you—and you and I both know how happy Commander Jameson would be about that.”

“I’m well,” I say again. My hand digs into my pocket and pulls out Day’s pendant. “Got a minor injury in a Skiz fight. Nothing serious.”

I hear a sigh from the other end. “Well, you’re not going to go that long again with your mike off, you hear me?” he says.

“Fine.”

“Did you find anything yet?”

I glance up to where the boy is swinging his legs. “Not sure. A boy and girl helped me get out of the Skiz chaos. The girl bandaged up my wound. I’m staying with them temporarily until I can walk better.”

“Walk better?” Thomas’s voice rises. “What kind of minor injury is this?”

“Just a knife wound. No big deal.” Thomas makes a choking sound, but I ignore it and keep going. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The boy made a fancy little dust bomb to get us out of the Skiz mob. He has some skills. I don’t know who he is, but I’ll get more information.”

“Think he’s Day?” Thomas asks. “Day doesn’t seem like the kind of boy who goes around saving people.”

Most of Day’s past crimes involve saving people. All except Metias. I take a deep breath. “No. I don’t think so.” I lower my voice until it’s barely a whisper. Best not to throw wild guesses at Thomas right now, lest he decide to jump the gun and send troops after me. Commander Jameson will boot me right off her patrol if we do something expensive like that, with nothing to show for it. Besides. These two got me out of serious trouble. “But they might know something about Day.”

Thomas is silent for a moment. I hear some commotion in the background, some static, and then his faint voice along with Commander Jameson’s. He must be telling her about my injury, asking her if it’s safe to keep me out here alone. I give an annoyed sigh. As if I’ve never been wounded before. After a few minutes, he comes back on again. “Well, be careful.” Thomas pauses for a moment. “Commander Jameson says to