Closing your eyes, you draw on the memory of the map. You see the twisting roads and slashing rivers, the narrow forests and open plains. What do you really need? Your eyes open at the memory of the caves. The fastest route in this year’s Races goes straight through the dark underground.
If something goes horribly wrong, that’s the route you’ll need to catch up.
“Sunscape. I need Sunscape.”
The machine obeys your command, adding the final component to your remaining cube. A second later the judge walks over, seals the box, and waves you out of the room.
“Good luck, contestant.”
The glass door closes as you return to your quarters. You take a moment to adjust your hair, fix your collar, and then you’re striding into the open stable. It’s a wide, square room without a ceiling. Sunrise lights everything in pinks and golds. On the far end of the room, a narrow break in the walls shows an open-faced tunnel that wasn’t there the night before. It will lead to the starting gates, naturally. Your phoenix stands at center, tethered to an iron stake.
Never before has there been a more majestic creature. Sleek, gunmetal gray, and a few hands taller than any of the other competing phoenixes. A champion, born and bred. Hearing your footsteps, his ears cock and his eyes roll back toward you. Both irises smolder as he lets out a snort and shakes that lovely silver mane.
You smile as you dig a hand into your pocket. Most horses love apples or oats, but your phoenix has always favored ripe tomatoes. It’s your tradition, a reminder of all that’s come before and all that will come after. You cross the room and hold the treat out. An answering snort has you laughing. “Hey there, Flicker. Today’s the day, boy.”
You like the name. It’s the five hundredth title you’ve given the horse, a lucky number. True riders know better than to rely solely on technique and strategy. The evolving relationship between the rider and horse matters just as much. Every time a phoenix is reborn, the connection built in former lives has to be seized again, restored into quick and painless trust.
Most riders use constants. A saying or a snack or a noise. Something that echoes throughout the many lives and deaths of the phoenix. But you’ve always seen naming as the quickest way to establish trust. A true rider sees the subtle differences as clearly as the surviving similarities in their horses. They use the knowledge to give true names to each new phoenix.
It all matters, because the slightest distrust can ruin a race.
You untether Flicker before running a hand lightly down his left flank. The phoenix jigs in place, snorting pleasantly. It has you smiling again. “That’s right, Flicker. Today’s the day.”
Taking a fistful of silver mane, you slide your left foot into the stirrup, hop twice on your grounded leg, and swing to mount. It takes a moment to shift clothes and adjust your riding belt before you can take the reins. A click of your tongue has the phoenix turning. You start nosing him toward the narrow opening before catching sight of someone else in the room.
A girl. She wears dark leathers and looks soaked to the bone. Which is strange, because you haven’t seen a rain cloud in days. Ratty hair hangs in dripping tangles across a pale forehead. A very pale forehead. You’ve never seen someone with skin so pale in all your life. Her eyes are like a pair of mismatched moons. You can’t help noticing how chaotically the girl’s chest is heaving, how insubstantially thin she seems compared to the solid wall behind her.
“Lost, sweetie?” you ask.
The girl ignores the question. “Who are you?”
“Pippa, of course.”
She squints at you. Then notices your horse. The sight of it widens her eyes.
“This is the world with the horses.”
All you can do is stare. The world with the horses? What is she, a fool?
“I’m sorry, but who let you in here?”
“The gods left the door open. I was the first one through.”
She grins at that, like she’s done something marvelously wicked. The words make so little sense that you find yourself repeating them slowly. “The gods left the door—”
But then you cut off as understanding strikes. Whatever your mother did. Whatever deal she struck with the Madness. This girl is the spirit your mother spoke about. She is here to help you if you’re wise enough to guide her into it.
“What’s your name?”
She stares back. “Quinn.”
“How’d you get here, Quinn?”
“I rode the lightning,” she says, like that makes all the sense in the world.
You remember the words your mother said. You remember what the spirit wants.
“Freedom,” you say softly. “Help me win, and I’ll give you your freedom.”
There’s a flash of bright blue. The girl vanishes from where she’s standing and appears on the back of your horse. She wraps her cold, ghostly arms around you.
“Deal.”
I stand, stretching my arms and shaking my legs loose. The attendant is waiting in one corner, gear piled in her arms. I look through my gear before nodding to her with satisfaction.
“I’m ready.”
She opens a lacquered wooden box. The inside’s been carved to make space for two particular items. Ayala explained both of them before the Races. One is less familiar than the other. The Ashlord lifts that object up. A sleek, black wristlet. It’s made of some kind of flexible leather. It stretches to slide over my hand before gripping back against my skin. I turn it around my wrist until the digital standings are faceup. Three empty slots glow in the early light:
“Once the Races begin, you’ll find the leaders’ names listed on your wristlet. Our generators and data should be updated every few minutes. Distances should be listed beside each name, indicating how far ahead of you they are on the course. If you invert the bracelet, the numbers should indicate how far the leaders are from the finish line. Understood?”
How far ahead of you they are…Naturally. Her assumption is that I will be well behind the leaders. That has been their assumption from the beginning. I bury the brief flash of anger, though, and ask the only question that matters to me.
“So you use these to track us?”
She nods. “The same energy field we use to broadcast the Races is used for keeping your locations up to date. It tracks all movements inside the boundaries of the course.”