*****
Soon we had a map of the Superiors’ compound sketched out over several pieces of paper taped together. Or at least, what it might have looked like ten years ago. It did look like a pie, with a hole in its center. I snorted at the sight. The Superiors sure liked symmetry. What Salim couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell us was what lay within the four wedges. When asked, he’d just shrugged and said, “It changes.” But it was enough to go on.
We took it to Gus with an argument as to why we should go there and rescue Deshi. Orry was on my hip, smiling and reaching for Gus’s beard.
Gus held out his hand and let Orry grab his fingers.
Then Gus did the most unnatural thing I’d seen in a while—he smiled.
“So, what do you think?” Joseph asked, standing well over Gus, the map rolled up in one hand. He was intense and jittery, hopeful.
Gus continued to gaze at Orry, his dry lips turned up, his eyes bright when they looked at my son.
Then he said the most natural thing for Gus. “No.”
How did I miss it? I wasn’t busy. But it was dark. I didn’t see. I will die before I let this happen. I will die if this does happen.
I couldn’t believe it. Somehow we’d survived nearly six months in this dank dungeon of a place, and now Orry was about to turn one. One whole year I’d been a mother.
It was always dark, but the midnight sucked any patch of light out into the sky. At least during the day, tunnels hinted and hummed with a faint glow of what was outside. Although, the light was starker now as winter was on top of us. Streaks of black ran down the walls, mixed with slimy green, like an oil painting I wouldn’t understand. It was so cold that I felt as if I had been dunked in the shiny, dark water in the center of the underground town.
Hands rattled me gently. I shoved them away.
“Addy, no. Too early.” Or late.
“Ahem.” A man’s cough forced my eyes open, but my brain was taking a while to catch up. I closed them again, wishing for those crackled hands, that gravelly voice. Don’t laugh at me, Addy. I heard her laughter and felt the bruise from missing her wrapping around my ribs like a band.
Joseph sat up behind me, pulling the blankets with him. Instinctively, I covered my chest with my arms. I was awake now.
Pelo looked down at me with kind eyes. I wanted to mask them. “What are you doing here?” I scowled.
Joseph chuckled. “You’re such a delight in the morning.”
“Midnight doesn’t qualify as morning,” I grumbled, sounding like I had a mouthful of bread.
Pelo was hopping from one foot to another excitedly. “Where’s my boy?” he asked. “It’s time.”
I groaned and forced myself inch by inch to the edge of the mattress, griping and cursing as I got dressed and put my shoes on.
Pelo stood on the other side of the curtain, humming. “You really shouldn’t curse like that in front of the child, Rosa.”
“He can’t understand me,” I snapped.
I brought the handheld to my face, squinting. Pelo was right. It was time.
*****
I’d expected this, but it didn’t make me any less grumpy. The Survivors didn’t have many traditions, but the celebration of birthdays was one of them. Two months ago, they did this for Hessa. Now it was Orry’s turn.
Joseph held Orry in his clasped hands, so the child was sitting up like he was on a throne. He yawned long and loud, grunting a little and rubbing his eyes. I reached up and stroked his hair, which matched his fathers, a shock of golden curls wrapped around his forehead like a crown. “I know how you feel,” I complained, rolling my eyes. I kicked a stone from the ledge, watching as it bounced jauntily down the giant tiers of this grimy amphitheater.
Pelo walked jerkily in front of me. “Fascinating culture. I heard that our people used to celebrate the date of one’s birth and such before the war. Isn’t it thrilling to be part of such a tradition now?”
Joseph grinned at me and directed his comments to Pelo. “The most you’re gonna get out of Rosa at this time in the morning is vague irritation. I think a lot less than thrilled might be about right.”
I bumped Joseph’s shoulder lightly and poked my tongue out at him. I was kind of thrilled, well as thrilled as I was going to be at midnight. But Orry wasn’t born until late afternoon, so technically it wasn’t his birthday yet. I had plans for later in the day. But this was the Survivors’ thing, and I was pleased to be part of it.
With Hessa, it had been the same. Nearly three thousand people crammed around the canal, plus the five or six hundred from the Monkey City. We wandered down to the edge, people parting for us, shuffling back with their heads bowed but big smiles on their faces. Matthew stood at the edge with Careen, Rash, Pietre, and Odval. Even Pietre’s face looked calm. I wouldn’t say he was smiling but he seemed peaceful, standing gingerly on his new, carved leg. He had his hands behind his back and stepped forward, producing a crudely carved ship. He held it in front of Orry, whose eyes danced as he grabbed at it. I nodded in thanks.
“I can’t believe he’s one year old,” a tinkle of a voice said from behind Careen.
My heart jumped. Apella had made it. Careen moved aside, and I stumbled over to her. “You came?” I asked, a bit dazed by all the staring eyes.
She coughed lightly into her fist and nodded.
Matthew clapped to get everyone’s attention. I joined Joseph, leaning my head towards Orry and letting him knock me on the head with the ship.
“We are here to mark the first birthday of Orlando, er…” Matthew leaned towards us and whispered, “Does Orry have a surname?”
We looked at each other, confused. We’d never really thought about it. “Bianca-Sulle?” Joseph asked.
I screwed up my nose. “Just Sulle is fine.” Bianca didn’t mean a great deal to me. Sulle meant a hell of a lot more.
Joseph’s chest swelled when Matthew shouted out, “Orlando Sulle, or Orry as we’ve all come to know him.”
He held up a candle, lit it, and placed it in the bow of the ship. Orry started screaming when Matthew took it from him, and everyone laughed.
He gave the boat to Joseph and me and, together with Orry, we knelt down and placed it in the water.
The sound of thirty-five hundred people singing was like nothing I’d ever heard. It was warm and huge, the voices meshing and melding all around us. Together, the simple and repetitive song they sang had a strength and force to it. They loved my little boy. Not as much as I did, but pretty close.
The golden light of the candle bobbed away to the music, slowly disappearing, flashing starry light against the cold, dark walls for seconds at a time before moving on, and eventually disappearing down a tunnel. It was so tiny, yet the light so powerful in this dark-slapped world. Just like Orry, its light was stronger and longer reaching than it had a right to be.
Joseph clasped Orry tightly with one hand and the other squeezed my hand. I saw Salim and his monkeys, standing at the top tier. He nodded solemnly. I tipped my chin and returned my gaze to my family.
Happy birthday, Orry.
*****
We dragged ourselves back to bed, accepting gifts and trinkets along the way. My yawn could have swallowed them all. I slunk under the blanket, restless, snippets of dreams pushed at me, shaking my shoulders, and not letting me sleep fitfully.
Orry cried out. Instead of settling him in his bed, I brought him to me. I felt protective, cloudy dreams full of warnings and people long gone swimming in my head.