Liora Glittering's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Liora reached Glitterville out of breath. The market still bustled. No one had smelled the poison yet. She smoothed her hair and forced a grin. Her gray glitter flaked from her arms, but she tucked her blistered hands behind her back. If she said nothing, maybe the smoke would stop on its own. Maybe her rule would still hold. She wandered past a round house on wheels, its curved shell painted warm brown. A creature dozed by its door, part duck-bill, part snail, its tentacles curled in the dust. Liora bent and stroked its spiral shell. "See? Everything's fine," she told it. The creature blinked and pulled away, as if it smelled the smoke on her. "That's the third time you've said fine." Liora turned. The mayor stood there, arms crossed. She had watched Liora grow up. She knew every mask Liora owned. "You only pet strays when you're hiding something," the mayor said. "And your hands are behind your back." "They're not," Liora said. She held them out. The blisters shone red and wet. The mayor's face went hard. "Show me your glitter." Liora looked at the ground. "It went gray," she whispered. "It won't shine anymore." The mayor stepped close. "Liora. What did you burn?" The question cracked something open. Liora's grin fell away. "The old tree," she said. "I lit it for my art. But it fought back. The smoke turned my glitter dead. It burns everything it touches." Her voice shook. "It's coming here. It'll reach the town by nightfall. I couldn't put it out." The mayor did not shout. She grabbed Liora's wrist and pulled her through the crowd. She stopped a woman resting in a hammock strung between two great flytraps. "Poison cloud in the field," the mayor said. "Pass it on. Everyone inside by dusk. Wet cloths over every window." The woman rolled out of the hammock and ran. Word spread fast. Doors slammed. Wheels creaked as the round house began to roll toward the far edge of town, away from the field. Parents pulled children indoors. The market emptied in minutes. The mayor turned back to Liora. "You told the truth. That saved lives." Her grip loosened. "But you started this. So you'll help me end it." "How?" Liora asked. "The fire won't die." "Then we don't fight the fire." The mayor pointed at the field, where the gray cloud climbed. "We fight the smoke. There's a tree out there whose leaves sting worse than nettles. Its poison and this poison hate each other. Old folks used one to cure the other." She looked hard at Liora. "You'll walk into that field with me and find it. Barefoot and all." Liora stared at her ruined hands. She had wanted the whole realm to shimmer. Instead she had made a wound. Now the only way to shine again ran straight back into the smoke. "Fine," she said. This time she meant it.