As Renfrew retired upstairs, respecting her wish for solitude, Karla reclined atop the long, dusty crate. Splinters caught in her cardigan. Sprung nails poked her hip. She flicked off the torch so she wouldn’t have to stare at the filthy, old beams and their cargoes of lint ready to fall on her face.
It was just like old times.
She sorted the lobes of her mind, situating them comfortably into the neutral nooks and crannies she had learned to carve and cultivate through trial and error, lopping off or tucking away any wish or longing that resembled hope or desire in favor of the null and void.
She was there, on the box and then she wasn’t. She found herself on the floor of the rickety hovel between the walls of Frelsi, the place that Lille now called home. The shack was empty, but there was a commotion outside—multiple strains of singing and chanting almost clashing at counter purposes.
She rolled off a mat, annoyed to find herself naked yet again, but at least here in Lille’s little hut, there was no shortage of pre-made wraps and shifts and dresses. Lille was obsessive and excessive when it came to her wardrobe, even at these heights, where Weaving could be a challenge.
She threw on something simple and shapeless that Lille had left draped over a stool and wandered outside. Lille had probably used it as a night gown, but Karla didn’t care about fashion, only that she had something to cover herself with.
She stepped out the broken-hinged door and was taken aback to find a huge Reaper sprawled across the parade ground, it’s decking painted with gaudy flowers and curlicues, its posts adorned with brightly colored flags and streamers.
A handful of men and women dressed in billowy pastel clothing stood at the railing and waved to the surrounding crowd as if they were about to embark on a pleasure cruise.
Karla spotted Lille standing with Bern on the backmost segment of the decking. She pushed through the spectators and ran alongside the Reaper.
Bern, wearing his usual frumpy attire, spotted her first, his eyes popping wide as he tugged on Lille’s sleeve. Lille, rapt in conversation, ignored him at first, but when she finally turned and saw Karla, she screamed.
“That’s my girl down there! Someone, please get her on board.”
One of the crew hopped the rail and extended his hand to Karla. She took it and was helped up onto the decking. Lille, swathed in a gown of light blue silk and tulle, swept her up in her arms, sprinkling joyful tears. “Oh, I’m so glad you made it back for this! And you’re just in time. We’re just about to set out for the glaciers.”
And before Lille could even take a breath, the Reaper lurched forward, rising up on a hundred appendages that advanced and rippled in waves. A few of the bystanders cheered and waved, while most just stood around and stared.
“These buggers hope it will be them making this ride next time around,” said Bern.
“Bern, why aren’t you dressed up?” said Karla.
“Oh, that’s because I’m a guest like you. Only candidates get to wear their Sunday best.”
“So it’s actually happening? Lille’s getting murdered?”
Lille puckered her lips. “Oh dear. It sounds so harsh when you put it like that. How about we say my soul is about to be liberated?”
The Reaper picked up speed, dashing up the lane like a runaway bus, as Hemis struggled under their loads to dodge out of its way. It hugged the inner wall bounding the Sanctuary, making a wide circuit around the core of the city.
