Page 82 of Sparktopia
I cover my lips with my hand. “What about me?”
“I asked all around about a party down in the dungeon levels, but no one seems to recall one.”
I swallow, then take a breath. “I told you. I came through the God’s Tower door from Tau City.”
“Woman, thisisTau City.”
I don’t know how to explain it, so I shrug. “It’s a different Tau City. I don’t know. I walked through the door and the next thing I knew, I’m lying on your bed and you’re in the shower. That’s it. That’s all I have.”
“Well, you fell and hit your head or something. It gave you a memory hole. That’s the only explanation.”
“Or,” I sneer, “I really did walk through the God’s Tower door and woke up here.”
He sighs, then reaches a hand into his pocket and pulls out a small device, holding it up to show me. “Should I call Stayn then?”
“Who the hell is Stayn?”
“My friend. The patrol chief. I told you, he sent me down into the lower levels to find the disturbance that was setting off his sensors.” Now he points to me. “You were the disturbance. And if you’re just gonna lie to me, well, I don’t like liars. So I’m just gonna report you and be done with the whole fucking thing.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
“Idid.”
“Well, your definition of truth and my definition of truth don’t seem to come from the same dictionary.”
I put the bacon biscuit back on the paper and let out a frustrated breath. “OK. Fine. I’m… a… tavern whore. Hence the dress. I was at a party in the dungeon of the ruined God’s Tower, got drunk, passed out, and woke up here.” I smile. “Happy now?”
He’s definitely not happy. “Now you’re just fuckin’ with me.”
“And you’re not listening.” I get up, take off his jacket, drop it into the chair, and walk across the room.
“Where ya going?”
I don’t say anything. I’m so angry. Also scared. And… sad. And… many, many, many other emotions. Confused, and frustrated, and…
He’s behind me, grabbing my arm, and pulling me away from the door. “Just stop. Sit down.”
But I don’t. I yank my arm out of his grip, grab the handle of the door, and pull. I’m kind of expecting it to be locked again, because I’m convinced that he was the one who locked it last night in the first place so I had to stay over. But I’m wrong. It opens right up and all the strange voices that were mostly silent a moment ago come rushing at me.
No one is directly in front of the door, but when I step out and look to my right, there is a small crowd gathered by a large, open stairwell. They are laughing and talking. And when I look to my left, I see that man who peeked into Tyse’s quarters at me. The one he pushed away from the door.
This man grins at me, his eyes flashing. Then he takes a good, long look at me, lingering on my breasts, which are mostly visible because this dress wasn’t made for an up-city Maiden, it was made for a down-city tavern whore.
And that man down the hall is looking at me like he would like to pay me coin to spend an hour in his room.
I turn away and head for the stairs. I don’t know much about anything around here, but I do know that down is my answer.
A few people remark about my dress as I push my way through the crowd and enter the open, twisting stairwell that descends in a wide spiral. We are ten stories up, so that’s a long way down. After a few floors I pause and look over the railing, straight down into some kind of lobby far below.
“Clara Birch!” The sound of someone calling my name in this unfamiliar place takes me by surprise. I look up and find Tyse on the tenth floor above me, also hanging over the railing. “Just stop. Wait right there. I’m coming down.”
All of these words come out as a command. Like I am someone who takes orders from him. Which just makes me angry. But what makes me even angrier is that he has called the attention of everyone on the stairwell within hearing distance. These people must number in the hundreds, surely. People on the stairs, crowds gathering on the balconies—all the way up and down. And all of them, on every level within earshot, stop what they are doing to look at me.
I glance back up at Tyse, find him shaking his head at me and warning me with a pointing finger, and then restart my escape with more earnest intentions. Feet flying down the stairs, weaving in between slow crowds in front of me and another horde coming up at me, gasping for breath because all of the emotions I possess seem to be building up inside of me at once and I’m trying not to cry.
“Clara Birch!” He yells itagain. “Stop! Someone stop her!”
