26
DEMONSTRATION
DAYS LATER, WE walked to the street and South Avenue, past walls of snow rising as high as my shoulders. Sunlight glittered across the ripples and made the whole city bright. So much light hurt my eyes, but not in the way the temple did. There were still drifts and shadows, dark evergreens against the brilliant snow. White veins shimmered between the cobblestones, and the sky was pale blue, a color almost too impossible to be real.
It was the perfect day for the monthly market, and everything I had planned.
The entire market field had been plowed, along with the wide half-moon stairs leading up to the Councilhouse. It was early, so a few sellers were still assembling their tents and tables, spreading their wares for viewing.
In spite of my coat and mitts and scarf, I shivered as we approached the field, the Councilhouse, the temple pushing into the sky. Cris and Stef were still missing—no one had heard from them—but everyone else had contacted their lists and were prepared to make their speeches this morning. Anticipation and defiance surged through me. Today, my friends and I would show everyone that newsouls were worthwhile. We’d show the Council that some people welcomed newsouls and wanted them to be safe.
I touched my flute case, a velvet-lined tube with a strap that went across my chest; it was easier to carry than the wooden box the flute had come in.
“You’ll do fine,” Sam said. The market’s joyful din clattered across the field as we came in sight of the Councilhouse stairs and wide landing that would double as the stage. Sarit, Lorin, and Moriah were already there, winding evergreen boughs around the columns. “I have to help move the piano from the warehouse. Will you be okay up there?”
“Yep.” I stood on my toes to kiss him, then trotted up the stairs, holding my flute case to my chest to keep it from bouncing.
Sarit, Lorin, and Moriah all hugged me, and I began adding the blue roses to the evergreens.
“Sam’s getting the piano?” Sarit asked.
I nodded and slipped a rose into the strap on my flute case; I wanted one for my hair later. “The piano they keep over there.” I waved my hands toward the industrial quarter with its warehouses and mills. “He already went twice to tune it, but he said he wanted to do one more pass because it’s been so long since anyone has played it. And he’s, you know, Sam. It has to be perfect or it’s not worth playing.”
“How’s he doing with”—Lorin gave an awkward shrug—“the parlor?”
I bit my lip and glanced at the market, which grew more crowded by the minute. The only space not filled with colorful tents and stalls was an aisle to the steps, where there was a ramp for the piano. Several people watched our work, and rumors about an impromptu concert trickled through the tents. I tried to find anyone looking especially surprised or upset that I hadn’t given up on my plan, but most people seemed to be looking forward to hearing Sam play. They didn’t know what had happened in his parlor.
“Sam’s angry, of course,” I said. “Someone destroyed his work. But he could be worse.”
“But they didn’t get your flute,” Lorin said.
“Because someone popped out a spring when she was playing with it, and I had to take it upstairs for repair. It wasn’t in the parlor, or they would have.” I tried not to imagine my flute twisted up, keys ripped off and holes gaping like empty eye sockets.
Lorin gave me a sideways hug. “Sorry about the spring.”
“Thanks for breaking it.” I turned to Sarit. “And thank you for getting the roses. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“You would not have roses.” Sarit’s tone was light, but she glanced northeast, toward Cris’s house, and her expression tensed. “I hope he and Stef are okay. I wish they’d call or send a message.”
If Stef had been the only one missing, I could have blamed it on her being angry with Sam. Cris, though, wasn’t angry with anyone. As far as I knew.
Just as we finished decorating the stage and setting up microphones, Sam and some of his friends appeared with the piano. A few people from the market cheered, while others wore expressions somewhere between curiosity and suspicion.
When Sam had the piano where he wanted it and sat to warm up, I went inside the Councilhouse with Sarit.
“Are you ready?” she asked as we moved away from the glass doors.
“No. Yes.” I handed her my flute case so I could take off my coat. No one would take me seriously when all my layers made me look like a bundled-up child. I could shiver for a little while if it meant people paid attention.