Bitterblue

40

THE PACKETS OF seabane were in a cabinet in her bathing room. She hadn't imagined that she would feel so—lost—the first time she swallowed those herbs down.

Back in the corridor, she pushed toward the doors.

"A bath and breakfast would do you good, Lady Queen, before you face your staff," said Helda gently. "Clean clothing. A fresh start."

"There's no such thing as a fresh start," said Bitterblue numbly.

"Do you need to see Madlen for anything, Lady Queen?"

Bitterblue wanted to see Madlen, but she didn't need to see Madlen. "I suppose not."

"Why don't I ask her here, just in case, Lady Queen?"

And so Helda and Madlen helped her soak away sweat and dirt in the bath, helped her wash her hair, took her soiled clothing and brought her fresh, clean things to wear. Madlen chatted quietly, her familiar, strange accent grounding Bitterblue. She wondered if there were signs on her body of her night with Saf, if Helda and Madlen could tell. Signs of her struggle with Thiel. She didn't mind, as long as no one asked questions. She had a vague feeling that questions would shatter her shell. "Are Bren and my guards all right?" she asked.

"They're extremely uncomfortable," said Madlen, "but they'll be fine. I'll go back to Bren later today."

"I promised Saf updates," said Bitterblue.

"Lord Giddon will check in on Sapphire after dark, Lady Queen," said Helda. "He'll convey all the news we have."

"And is Death all right?"

"Death is deeply depressed," said Madlen. "But otherwise recovering."

She didn't expect breakfast to do her any good. When it did, it was her first experience of a new kind of guilt. It shouldn't be so easy to nurture herself, her stomach should not be so comforted by food that was filling. She shouldn't want to live when Thiel had wanted to die.

IN THE INFIRMARY, her two Lienid guards seemed grateful for her visit and her thanks.

Death sat propped up in bed with a lopsided bandage around his head.

"All those books," he moaned. "Lost. Irreplaceable. Lady Queen, Madlen says I'm not to work until my head stops aching, but I believe it's aching from lack of work."

"That sounds a bit unlikely, Death," said Bitterblue gently, "seeing as you were bashed over the head. But I do understand what you mean. What work would you like?"

"The remaining journals, Lady Queen," he said fervently. "The one I was working on survived the fire, and Lord Giddon tells me that a very few others did as well. He has them. I'm dying to see them, Lady Queen. I was so close to understanding things. I believe that some of his odder and more particular renovations to the castle and city were an attempt to bring another world to life here, Lady Queen. Presumably the world he came from, with the colorful rat. I believe he was trying to turn this world into that one. And I believe that it may be a land of considerable medical advancement, which is why he was obsessed with his mad hospital."

"Death," she said quietly. "Have you ever gotten the impression, from reading about his hospital, that it was not him, but his staff, that did the hurtful things to the victims? That he often stood back and watched?"

Death's eyes narrowed. "It would explain some things, Lady Queen," he said, his eyes widening again. "He speaks sometimes of the few victims he 'kept for himself.' That could mean, couldn't it, that he shared the others, presumably with other abusers?"

"The abusers were also his victims."

"Yes, of course, Lady Queen. In fact, he speaks of 'moments when his men come to realize what they are doing.' It hadn't occurred to me until now, Lady Queen," he said morosely, "which men he was referring to, or precisely what they were doing."

At this reminder of her men, Bitterblue stood, grimly preparing herself. "I'd better go."

"Lady Queen," he said, "may I ask you for one more thing on your way?"

"Yes?"

"You—" He paused. "You will think it unimportant, Lady Queen, in the face of your other worries."

"Death," she said. "You're my librarian. If there's something I can do that will bring you comfort, tell me what it is."

"Well," he said. "I keep a bowl with water for Lovejoy under the desk, Lady Queen. It will certainly be empty, if it's there at all. He'll be disoriented by my absence, you see? He'll think I abandoned him. He can manage feeding himself quite well on the library mice, but he does not venture outside the library and won't know where to find water. He's very fond of water, Lady Queen."

* * * * *

LOVEJOY WAS FOND of water.

The desk was a blackened, broken-down shell, the floor under it ruined. The bowl, green as a Monsean valley, lay upside down some distance from the desk. Carrying it out of the library and into the great courtyard, shivering, Bitterblue walked to the fountain pool. The bowl, once she'd filled it, was so cold that it burned her fingers.

In the library, she considered the situation, then knelt behind the gutted desk and placed the water under its corner. It didn't seem kind to draw Lovejoy to such a smelly ruin, but if that was where he was used to finding his water, then perhaps that was where he would look for it.

She heard a growl, in a feline voice she recognized. Peeking beneath the desk, she saw a lump of darkness and the dangerous flick of a tail.

Cautiously, she slid her hand halfway under the desk toward him, so that he could decide whether to approach or ignore. He chose attack. Yowling and swift, he swiped at her, then retreated again.

Bitterblue held her bleeding hand to her chest, biting back her cries, because she didn't blame him, and she knew how he felt.

ON A STAIRWAY, as she approached her offices, Po intercepted her.

"Do you need me?" he asked. "Do you want me, or anyone else, to go in there with you?"

Standing before the strange light of his eyes, Bitterblue thought about that. "I will need you," she said, "many times in the next few days. And I'll need your concentrated help at some point in the future, Po. Your help with my court and my administration and with Monsea alone, undistracted—not while you're also contributing to an Estillan revolution. Once Estill is settled, I want you back here for a short while. Will you agree?"

"Yes," he said. "I promise."

"I think I need to do this thing now alone," she said. "Though I have no idea what to say to them. I have no idea what to do."

Po tilted his head, considering her. "Both Thiel and Runnemood are dead, Cousin," he said, "and they were always in charge. Your men will be looking for a new leader."

WHEN SHE STEPPED into the lower offices, the room went still. All faces turned to her. Bitterblue tried to think of them as men who needed a new leader.

What surprised her was that it wasn't difficult. She was struck by the need transparent on their faces and in their eyes. Need for many things, for they stared at her like lost men, mute with confusion, and with shame.

"Gentlemen," she said quietly, "how many of you have been involved in the systematic suppression of truths from Leck's time? The killing of truthseekers?"

None of them answered, and many of them dropped their eyes.

"Is there anyone here who wasn't involved, in one way or another?" she said.

Again, no one answered.

"All right," she said, a bit breathlessly. "Next question. How many of you were forced by Leck to commit atrocities upon other people?"

All of them raised their eyes to her again, which stunned her. She'd been afraid that the question would cause them to break. But instead they looked into her face, with hope, almost; and looking back at them, finally she saw it, the truth hiding behind the numbness, at the back of the deadness, in all of their eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," she said. "It wasn't your fault, and now it's over. No more hurting people. Do you understand? No more hurting even one more soul."

Tears were running down Rood's face. Holt came to her, dropping to his knees. He took her hand and began to weep. "Holt," she said, bending down to him. "Holt, I forgive you."

A breath went around the room, a silence that seemed to ask if it too was worthy of forgiveness. Bitterblue felt the question from all of them, and stood there, scrambling for the answer. She couldn't sentence every guilty man here to a term in prison and leave it at that, for that would change nothing about the truer problem in their hearts. She couldn't dismiss them from their work and send them away, because left to their own devices, they would probably continue to hurt people, and some of them would hurt themselves. No more of people hurting themselves, she thought. But nor can I keep them on and tell them to continue with their work—for I can't trust them.

She had thought of the queen as a person who shaped big things, like bringing literacy back to the city and castle. Like opening her High Court to claims for remuneration from across the entire kingdom. Housing the Council while they assisted the Estillans with the overthrow of an unjust king and dealing with whatever Katsa found at the other end of that tunnel. Deciding, when Ror came with his navy, how much of a navy Monsea needed, and how much it could afford.

But it is just as important, she thought, to thaw these men who were frozen by my father, and to stand at their sides through the pain of their healing.

How can I ever take care of so many men?

She said, "We have a great deal of work to do, and undo. I'm going to divide you into teams and assign each team to one aspect of the task. Each team will include new people, Monseans, from outside this administration. You'll report to them, as they'll report to you, and you'll work with them closely. You understand that my reason for involving others is that I can't trust you," she said, pausing, allowing that small, necessary arrow to hit each of them. They need me to trust them again, or they won't be able to be strong. "But each of you has the opportunity now to regain my trust. I will not require any of you to revisit the abuses of King Leck. I'll leave that to others who weren't hurt by him so directly. I won't allow anyone to hold you responsible for, or plague you with, things you did then that you were compelled to do. I also forgive you, personally, for the crimes you've committed since," she said. "But—others may not, and those people have the same right to justice that you do. The time ahead is going to be messy and difficult," she said. "Do you understand that?"

Stricken faces looked back at her. Some of them nodded.

"I'll help each of you through it, however I can," she said. "If there are trials, I'll testify on your behalf, for I understand that few of you were at the top of this chain of command, and I understand that you were forced for years, some of you for decades, by my father, to be obedient. Perhaps some of you don't know now how to be anything but obedient. That's not your fault.

"One more thing," she said. "I've said that I won't make you revisit the time of King Leck, and I meant that. But there are people—lots of people—who see value in doing so. There are people who need to do so in order to recover. I don't begrudge you your own need to heal in your own way, but you will not interfere with other people's healing. I understand that what they do interferes with yours. I see the conundrum. But I will not tolerate any of you compounding Leck's crimes with more crimes. Anyone who continues with this suppression will lose every bit of my loyalty. Do you understand?"

Bitterblue looked into every face, waiting for an acknowledgment. How she'd worked with these men for so many years and never seen how much was in their faces was beyond her, and it shamed her; and now they were depending on her. It was in their eyes; and they didn't know that she was all talk, that the teams she talked about building had no foundation and no plan, nothing but her words. Her words were empty. She might as well have told them that they were all going to build a castle out of air.

Well. She had better start somewhere. Demonstrating trust was, perhaps, more important than actually feeling it. "Holt," she said.

"Yes, Lady Queen," he said gruffly.

"Holt, look into my face," she said. "I have a job for you and any men in the Queen's Guard that you choose."

This brought Holt's eyes to hers. "I'll do anything, Lady Queen."

Bitterblue nodded. "There is a cave on the other side of Winter Bridge," she said. "Your niece knows how to find it. It's the lair of a thief known as Spook and her granddaughter, Gray, whom you may know as my servant Fox. Late tonight, when both Spook and Fox are inside, I want you to raid the cave, arrest them and their guards, and seize any items inside. Talk to Giddon," she said, for Giddon was the man pegged to talk next to Saf. "He has access to information about the cave. He may be able to tell you how it's guarded and where the entrances are."

"Thank you, Lady Queen," said Holt, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Then Bitterblue looked into the faces of her two remaining

advisers, Rood and Darby, and knew that she was about to make things just a little bit worse for herself.

"Come upstairs with me," she said to the two.

"SIT DOWN," BITTERBLUE said.

Darby and Rood slumped into chairs like defeated men. Rood was still crying, Darby sweaty and shaking. They were grieving, as she was, and Bitterblue hated that she had to do this.

"I said below that I believed very few people were at the top of this chain of command," she said. "But both of you were, weren't you?"

Neither answered. Bitterblue was beginning to get a little tired of not being answered. "You set it up from the beginning, didn't you? Forward-thinkingness actually meant suppression of the past. Danzhol, before I killed him, intimated that the town charters were intended to keep me from digging into the truth of what happened in my towns, and I laughed at him, but that's exactly what they were meant to do, isn't it? Push the past under the rug and pretend it's possible to make a fresh start. The blanket pardons for all crimes committed in Leck's time too. The lack of education in the schools, because it's easier to control what's known when people can't read. And, worst of all, the specific targeting of anyone working against you. Right?" she said. "Gentlemen? Does that about cover it? Answer me," she commanded sharply.

"Yes, Lady Queen," Rood whispered. "That, and flooding you with paper so that you'd stay in your tower and be too overwhelmed to be curious."

Bitterblue stared at him in astonishment. "You will tell me how it worked," she said, "and who else was involved besides the men downstairs. And you'll tell me if anyone else was in charge."

"We were the ones in charge, Lady Queen," Rood whispered

again. "Your four advisers. We passed down the orders. But others have been deeply involved."

"Thiel and Runnemood were more culpable than we were," said Darby. "It was their idea. Lady Queen, you said you forgave us. You said you would testify on our behalves if there were trials, but now you're so angry."

"Darby!" she cried in exasperation. "Of course I'm angry! You lied to me and manipulated me! My own friends were singled out for killing! One is ill because you tried to burn her printing shop!"

"We did not want to hurt her, Lady Queen," said Rood desperately. "She was printing books and teaching people to read. She had papers and strange letter molds that frightened and confused us."

"And so you set it all on fire? Is that part of your method too? Destroy anything you don't understand?"

Neither man spoke. Neither man seemed entirely present in his chair. "Captain Smit?" she snapped. "Am I likely ever to see him again?"

"He wanted to tell you the truth, Lady Queen," Rood whispered. "It was a great strain on him to lie to your face. Thiel thought he'd made himself too much of a liability, you see?"

"How could you be so careless with people?" she said, furious.

"It is easier than you might think, Lady Queen," said Rood. "It only requires a lack of thought, an avoidance of feeling, and the realization, when one does think or feel, that being careless with people is all one is good for."

Thirty-five years. Bitterblue wasn't certain she'd ever be able to comprehend what it had been like for them. It wasn't fair that nearly a decade after his death, Leck was still killing people. Leck was still tormenting the same people he'd tormented; people were committing appalling acts in order to erase the appalling acts they'd already committed.

"Ivan?" she said. "The mad engineer? What happened to him?"

"Runnemood thought he was calling too much attention to himself and, hence, to the state of the city, Lady Queen," whispered Rood. "You yourself complained of his incompetence."

"And Danzhol?"

"Oh," Rood said, taking a breath. "We don't know what went wrong with Danzhol, Lady Queen. Leck did have a few special friends who would visit and find themselves drawn into his hospital; Danzhol was one. We knew this, of course, but we didn't know he'd gone mad and intended to kidnap you for money. Thiel was so ashamed afterwards, for Danzhol had asked him beforehand how highly your administration valued you, Lady Queen, and Thiel thought, in retrospect, that perhaps he should've guessed the purpose of the question."

"Danzhol was planning to ransom me back to you?"

"We think so, Lady Queen. No other party in the world would have paid so much for your return."

"But how can you say that," Bitterblue cried, "when you'd made a point of making me useless?"

"You would not have been useless, Lady Queen," Rood said, "once we'd eradicated all that had happened! You were our hope! Perhaps we should've kept Danzhol closer and involved him more in the suppression. We could have made him a judge or a minister. Perhaps then, he wouldn't have lost his mind."

"That doesn't seem likely," Bitterblue said in disbelief. "Nothing you say is logical. I was right when I thought Runnemood was the most sane of you all; at least he understood that your plan couldn't work while I was alive. I will testify on your behalves," she continued. "I will testify as to the injury Leck did to you, and the ways in which Thiel and Runnemood may have coerced you. I'll do whatever I can, and I'll make absolutely sure that you're treated fairly. But," she said, "you both know that in your cases, it's not a matter of 'if ' there will be a trial. Both of you must go on trial. People have been murdered. I myself was almost choked to death."

"That was all Runnemood," Darby said, frantic. "He went too far."

"You have all gone too far," said Bitterblue. "Darby, see reason. You have all gone too far, and you know that I can't let you go free. How would that be? The queen protecting advisers who conspired to murder innocent Monseans and who used all the parts of her administration to see it done? You'll be imprisoned, both of you, as will anyone else who was deeply involved. You'll stay in prison until I've isolated people who can be trusted to investigate your crimes, and judges who can be trusted to try them justly and with an appreciation for all you've suffered. If you're found innocent and returned to me, I'll honor the court's ruling. But I will not pardon you myself."

Rood was breathing into his hands. He whispered, "I don't know how we all became trapped in this. I can't understand it. I still cannot fathom what happened."

Bitterblue felt as if her words were coming from a deep, hollow, unkind, and stupid core, but she pushed them out nonetheless. "Now," she said, "I want you both to write down for me how it worked, what was done, and who else was involved. Rood, you stay here at my desk," she said, handing him paper and pen. "Darby," she said, pointing to Thiel's stand. "You work over there. Separate reports. Take care that they match."

There was no comfort in making her distrust so obvious. There was no joy in depriving herself of two people whose minds and bodies she needed, depended on, to run these offices. And how horrible to send them to the prisons. One man who had a family and, somewhere deep inside him, a gentle soul, and another man who couldn't even call upon the escape of sleep.

When they were through, she arranged for members of the Queen's Guard to escort them to prison.

NEXT, SHE SENT for Giddon.

"Lady Queen," he said as he entered, "you don't look good. Bitterblue," he said, crossing the room in two strides, dropping down beside her, taking her arms.

"If you touch me," Bitterblue said, eyes closed, teeth clenched, "I'll lose my head, and they can't see me losing my head."

"Hold on to me," he said, "and breathe slowly. You're not losing your head, you're just under a massive amount of strain. Tell me what's going on."

"I'm facing," she said, then stopped. She wrapped her hands around his forearms and took a slow breath. "I'm facing a rather catastrophic staff shortage. I just put Darby and Rood in prison, and look at these papers."

She indicated the papers on her desk, covered with the scribbles of Darby and Rood. Four of the eight judges on her High Court had been involved in the suppression, convicting innocent people and people who needed to be silenced. So had Smit, of course, and the Master of Prisons. So had her Minister of Roads and Maps, her Minister of Taxes, various lords, and the head of the Monsean Guard in Monport. So many members of the Monsean Guard had learned to turn a blind eye that it had been impossible for Rood and Darby to list them individually. And then there were the lowest of the low, the criminals and the lost individuals in the city, who'd been paid, or compelled, to carry out the actual acts of violence.

"All right," Giddon said. "That's bad. But this kingdom is full of people, you know. Right now, you feel alone, but you're going to put together a team, a really magnificent team. Did you know that Helda has been making lists all day?"

"Giddon," she said, choking on a slightly hysterical laugh. "I feel alone because I am alone. People keep betraying me and people keep leaving me." And suddenly it was all right to lose control, here for two minutes of being dizzy against Giddon's shoulder, because he was safe, and he wouldn't tell anyone, and he was good at holding on to her with steady, strong arms.

When her breath had calmed, and she could wipe her eyes and nose on the handkerchief he gave her, instead of on his shirt, she thanked him.

"You're welcome," he said. "Tell me what I can do to help you."

"Do you have two hours you could give to me, Giddon? Now?"

Giddon glanced at the clock. "I have three hours, until two o'clock."

"Raffin, Bann, and Po—should I assume they're busy?"

"They are, Lady Queen, but they'll put their work aside for you."

"No, that's all right. Will you get Teddy for me, and Madlen and Hava, and bring all of them here with Helda?"

"Of course," he said.

"And ask Helda to bring her lists, and start thinking up one of your own."

"I know a lot of good Monseans who can be useful to you."

"That's why I called for you," she said. "While I've been bumbling around these last few months making messes, you've been meeting my people and learning things."

"Lady Queen," he said, "be fair to yourself. I've been creating a conspiracy, while you've been the focused target of one. It's easier to plan than to be planned against, trust me. And from now on, that's what you'll be doing."

* * * * *

HIS WORDS WERE comforting. But it was hard to believe them after he'd gone.

He came back with Teddy, Madlen, Hava, and Helda sooner than she expected. Teddy looked a bit harried, and was also rubbing his behind.

"That was fast," Bitterblue said, motioning to the chairs. "Are you all right, Teddy?"

"Lord Giddon put me on a horse, Lady Queen," said Teddy. "I haven't had much call for horses before this."

"Teddy," said Giddon, "I've told you I'm no longer a lord. Everyone seems determined to forget it."

"My bottom is seizing up," said Teddy glumly.

Bitterblue couldn't explain it, but once again, with people here, everything seemed less hopeless. Perhaps it was the reminder of a world outside this castle, where life ticked along and Teddy's bottom seized up, whether Thiel had jumped off a bridge or not.

"Lady Queen," said Helda, "at the end of this conversation, your worries will be gone."

Well, and that was ridiculous. Everything that worried her came rushing back. "There are a thousand things this conversation won't change," she said.

"What I meant, Lady Queen," said Helda more gently, "is that none of us have any doubt that you'll be able to outfit a fine administration."

"Well," said Bitterblue, trying to believe that. "I have some ideas, so we may as well start talking. Madlen and Hava," she said, "I don't expect you to have strong opinions about how my administration should be run, unless, of course, you want to. I've asked you to join us because you're two of the very few people I trust, and because you both know, or have observed, or have worked with, a lot of people. I need people," Bitterblue said. "There's nothing I need more. Any recommendations any of you have are welcome to me.

"Now," she said, trying not to show how shy she was to speak her ideas aloud. "I would like to add a few new ministries, so that we can have entire, focused teams working on matters that have been grievously neglected. I want to start over from scratch with building a Ministry of Education. And we should have a Ministry of Historical Record, but if we're to continue searching for the truth of what happened, we must be prepared to be gentle and take care with knowledge. We've got to talk more about the best way to do it, don't you think? And what would you all think of a Ministry of Mental Well-being?" she asked. "Has there ever been such a thing? What about a Ministry of Reparations?"

Her friends listened as she talked, and made suggestions, and Bitterblue began to draw charts. It was comforting to write things down; words, arrows, boxes made ideas more solid. I used to have a small list, on a single piece of paper, she thought, of all the things I didn't know. It's hilarious to think it, when this entire kingdom could be an actual-sized map of the things I don't know.

"Should we interview each person downstairs," she asked, "to see where each of their interests and expertise lie?"

"Yes, Lady Queen," said Helda. "Now?"

"Yes, why not?"

"I'm sorry, Lady Queen," said Giddon, "but I've got to go."

Bitterblue shot her eyes to the clock in amazement, unable to believe that Giddon's three hours were up. "Where are you going?"

Giddon directed a sheepish expression at Helda.

"Giddon?" said Bitterblue, now suspicious.

"It's Council business," Helda reassured Bitterblue. "He's not going to do anything to anyone Monsean, Lady Queen."

"Giddon," said Bitterblue reprovingly, "I always tell you the truth."

"I haven't lied!" he protested. "I haven't said a word." And when that didn't lessen Bitterblue's glare, "I'll tell you later. Possibly."

"This phenomenon wherein you always tell Lord Giddon the truth," said Helda to Bitterblue. "Might you consider extending that arrangement to others?"

"I'm not a lord!" said Giddon.

"Could we—" Bitterblue was losing focus. "Giddon, send one of my clerks or guards up on your way out, would you? Anyone who looks equal to an interview."

And so the interviews of her guards and clerks commenced, and Bitterblue found the ideas growing in a way that began to challenge the expediency of paper. Ideas were growing in all directions and dimensions; they were becoming a sculpture, or a castle.

And then everyone left her, to return to their own affairs; and she was alone, and empty and unbelieving again.

RAFFIN, BANN, AND Po came to dinner, late. Bitterblue sat quietly among them, letting their banter wash around her. Helda is never happier than when she has young people to pester, she thought. Especially handsome young men.

Then Giddon showed up, with a report on Saf. "He's bored to pieces and worried about his sister. But he gave me good information about Spook's cave to give to Holt, Lady Queen."

"After Spook and Fox are arrested," Bitterblue said quietly, her first contribution to the evening's conversation, "I wonder if we can let Saf out of the drawbridge tower. It may depend on how much Spook and Fox talk. I still don't feel like I've got a handle on the Monsean Guard just now." I'd feel a lot better if I had the crown. "How did your Council business go, Giddon?"

"I convinced a visiting spy of King Thigpen's not to return to Estill," said Giddon.

"And how did you do that?" asked Bitterblue.

"By—well—let's say, by arranging for him to have a holiday in Lienid," said Giddon.

This was met with a roar of approval. "Well done," said Bann, slapping him on the back.

"Did he want to go to Lienid?" asked Bitterblue, not certain why she bothered.

"Oh, everyone loves Lienid!" cried Po.

"Did you use the nausea infusion?" asked Raffin, pounding the table so hard in his excitement that the silver rattled. When Giddon nodded, the others gave him a standing ovation.

Quietly, Bitterblue took herself to the sofa. It was bedtime, but how was she to be alone in a dark room? How to face her own solitary, shaking self?

If she couldn't have anyone's arms around her as she fell asleep, then she could have the voices of these friends. She would wrap the voices around her and it would be like Saf 's arms; it would be like Katsa's arms when they'd slept on the frozen mountain. Katsa. How acutely she missed Katsa. How acutely sometimes the presence or absence of people mattered. She would have fought Po tonight for Katsa's arms.

Of course, she'd forgotten that there might be a dream.

She dreamed that she was walking from rooftop to rooftop in Bitterblue City. She was walking on the castle roof. She was walking on the edges of the parapets of the glass roof of her castle tower, and she could see everything all at once, the buildings of her city, the bridges, the people trying to be strong. The sun warmed her, a breeze cooled her, and there was no pain, and she wasn't afraid to be standing at the top of the world.