LINDEN FALLS

But the girl had realized it was no use and was about to turn away when the priest raised the Regada pole as though he too would issue a curse. Anger exploded in Mabel’s heart, hatred lick-ing her insides like flames, consuming her pain, and filling her mind so she couldn’t think.
Mabel clubbed his arm, and the golden rod clattered to the ground. Jay grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back as a yelling tide of red cloaks rushed forward. Issy looked morti-fied as Mabel kicked the priest, who had lunged for the pole, and knocked him flat on his back. Jay let go and rammed the first prophet who arrived, Mabel snatching up the pole and taking a swipe at the next, just missing him as he jumped out of the way.
“Come on!” Jay seized Mabel’s hood and yanked it back, revealing an ivory face with high cheekbones and dark almond eyes. She wheeled around, caught Issy by the wrist, and they were off.

Jay led the way as they ran toward the city, whose earthly tones made the buildings appear to be rising out of the ground. Within seconds, they were snaking their way through the throng, many of whom were facing away from the ocean and chanting with a nearby group of singers. Issy looked over her shoulder at the red cloaks muscling their way after them.
“Give it back, Mabel!” she cried into the mane of auburn hair flying in front of her.
“No!”

They squeezed between bodies wrapped in dark cloaks and furs, ducked around horses, and hopped over wagon tongues. In a minute’s time, they had lost their pursuers, whose shouts could not rise above those of the crowd. Another minute passed and they were through, walking brisk-ly down the paved streets of Port Majoris, which was still crowded but thinning enough to allow Mabel to pull Issy alongside her as she took the lead.
“Those were the prophets of Mog!” said Issy, glancing at the glittering pole in Mabel’s hand.
“They were cursing you!”
“Not now, Izz!”
Mabel avoided the square and turned down a dismal lane with few doors and no balconies, the brown walls blocking the slanted rays of the sun. The number of people lessened, and Jay drew even with Mabel, who handed him the Regada pole as she shifted the leather bag slung over her shoulder.
“What are you gonna do with it?” Issy asked nervously.
“Melt it down and sell it,” said Jay, stuffing it under his coat.
Mabel felt a pang of remorse, knowing that her grandmother would have been heartbroken to see what she had become. But hadn’t Gigi known? It was as though her grandmother had seen the stolen clothes stashed at school and listened to Mabel’s fights and had watched the girl on her own, as she slipped into the nights.
“At least we’re gonna get paid,” said Mabel in a louder voice. She turned south onto another lane.
Issy drew her coat tightly around her neck. “At least I don’t have to worry about the gods.”
“They’re not real,” said Jay in a low tone.
“You know what, Izz?” said Mabel fiercely. “I’m glad you came, to see what I have—nothing . . .” Her voice broke, and Jay looked away.
“I didn’t mean—”
“This”—Mabel held out her bag—“and whatever crumbs my aunt left.” The bag fell to her side as she sped up and flung the hood over her head. “Let’s keep moving . . . I wanna get my stuff and be back in time to catch the last ship.”
Some thirty minutes later, they were enveloped in a world of white birch trees. No cries rose from its depths, and the stones that littered the floor were covered in moss. Mabel shivered as they walked on, wordlessly, the girl becoming more isolated by the day, afraid to let others know what she craved. If only she had parents to lift the world off her shoulders, people to love her without wanting anything in return. There had been Gigi, but like the leaves drifting from the branches around them, her grandmother’s life had withered and fallen into the shadows. I never should have gone back to school, thought the girl of seventeen. A serpent of guilt slithered through her veins. I should have stayed.

Her insides smoldered. Mabel had come as fast as she could when the news came of her grandmother’s death, believing her aunt would wait for her so that she, Mabel, could give Gigi one last kiss. But her aunt had not. Mabel’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eat-en for days, but the girl didn’t care. Looking at a tree on the horizon, weathered and pale, she felt as though she were staring at herself.