For Darkness Shows the Stars

Ro.
    Your father promised me he wouldn’t punish you. I only told him, you know. It’s not like I told mine! Please don’t be mad at me. Pretty please. I couldn’t bear it.
    Your friend (I hope!),
    Elliot
        
     
    Dear Elliot,
    It doesn’t matter anyway. Apparently I’m too stupid to even realize which way is north and which is south. The problem is you can’t see the stars in the daytime. I accidentally went north, and the land ran out. There’s nothing but cliffs up there and towers of rock sticking out of the sea. It looks like there used to be bridges that connected the towers to the mainland, but they’re all gone now.
    Do you know anything about them? Since I’m not running away anymore, do you want to go see them with me? I’ll think about forgiving you if you do.
    Your friend (maybe),
    Kai
        
     
    Dear Kai,
    Sure I’ll go with you. I know the towers you mean. They were formed when the sea ate away at the cliffs. It apparently happened long ago, before even the Reduction. But the towers have been getting longer ever since, as the sea eats more and more of the land.
    My mother says the bridges fell when she was still a young girl, and my grandfather decided it was too dangerous to try to rebuild them. I don’t know who built them the first time. Perhaps it was a Luddite who was desperate to catch a glimpse of the rest of the world.
    Your friend,
    Elliot
        
     
    Dear Elliot,
    Maybe it wasn’t a Luddite. Maybe it was a Post who built the bridges so he could escape to the North, to his own piece of land, untouched by the Luddite lords.
    Your friend,
    Kai
        
     
    Dear Kai,
    I have hidden your last letter. Be careful what you write to me!
    Your friend,
    Elliot

Twenty-two
     
    THE SUN-CARTS CHUGGED ALONG now as they ascended the promontory at the northernmost tip of the island. The beaches on either side dwindled into nothingness against the sides of rocky cliffs. Ahead of them lay the point and the end of Elliot’s whole world—the end of the world entirely, as far as anyone knew.
    And yet, one day soon, Kai would be sailing off into that nothingness. Elliot shivered suddenly. She’d worried about him for four years. How much more worry was in store for her now that she knew how far he planned to go? On the other hand, she reminded herself, what difference did it make? He’d been beyond the reach of her influence and ability to help him from the moment he’d left the North estate. He was gone for good either way.
    They parked the carts near the very edge and spilled out onto the remaining tufts of dry winter grass. The sun was even stronger now, and Elliot unwound her scarf as the boys doffed their jackets and Olivia shed her heavy coat and began setting up the picnic. She’d brought a lot of leftovers from the party, Elliot noticed—fruit pies and meat pies and jars filled with hot apple cider.
    “Let me help you,” Elliot said, and knelt next to her on the blanket. Olivia was unpacking with one eye on the boys, who were peering over the edge of the cliff face and pointing at the waves that crashed against the rocks and sent spray hurtling a hundred meters in the air.
    Beyond the edge stood spindly spires of rock, a line of towers the wind and sea had left behind after carving out the more porous earth that had once formed a jagged spear out into the sea. In her grandfather’s time, there had been a bridge—a man-made one that stretched from tower to tower and formed a path out into the beyond. But it had long ago rotted away. Connections still existed between some of the spires, and others had tumbled into the sea. There was nothing at all that connected the mainland to the first stone tower, which stood about seven meters out in the abyss.
    When she was younger, she and Kai had played a game, standing at the edge of the cliff and throwing their arms out to the breeze, letting it lift and buffet them until they grew timid and backed away. Elliot always lost. Even then, Kai had been fearless and she had been cautious—Luddite to the core.
    A blast of salt-tinged wind shot up the cliff face and blew the boys backward. Horatio tripped and took a knee. Andromeda laughed.
    “They should be careful,” said Elliot.
    “They’re amazing!” Olivia exclaimed. “Not like anyone I’ve ever known. The whole Fleet—it seems somehow as if their lives are bigger, their spirits greater.”
    Elliot chuckled in spite of herself. She supposed the Fleet could come across as