Pearl & Purlieus: Pearl, #1

By Bookerlunds

Officially, Tristendon is a school dedicated to teaching the science of gatecraft and inter-world travel. Unofficially, it is a superhighway to the wealth of worlds—traveled by shape-shifting godlings, gate mages, and those who hunt them.

 

As a gate student from the impoverished Outer Reaches, Kora Featherstone stumbles into spectacular cultural faux pas as she embarks on her journey to learn gate-travel, to break caste, to find her lost friend.

 

Thaden follows behind, mediating each crisis, trying to find the heart he lost when he was too young to protect himself, knowing that together they could master the gates. But what begins as a simulated exercise will propel them far beyond Tristendon, and cut each of them to the bone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bookerlunds
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224737192

Book preview

WildthorneThadenKoraFeatherstone

1

WORLDS CRASHING

Thaden chased Kora into the old growth of the firs, pristine air filling his lungs, dappled light half-blinding his eyes. A saccharine startled and took flight, plumage blood-red against sky-blue.

They ran farther than on typical days. A bad idea, Thaden knew, but he didn’t want to show up gutless. Besides, Kora had a weakness for all things trouble. As for his weakness—well, some things were just obvious.

Deep in the woods, the sun was sinking below the mountain, and their homing beacons were flickering at the edge of their usable range, when a shrill mewling, almost like a human child’s cry broke the stillness. Their gazes locked, calculating gray eyes met curious hazel, and a brief contest of wills ensued.

We can’t, Kora, Thaden said, swallowing. Your beacon’s died. Besides, the horn is about to blow!

But someone needs help!

I’ll go. You run get help. Kora!

She was already running toward the sound, into the deepening gloom. Her beacon lay on the ground. He glanced at his own beacon, and saw it gray and still.

The shrill cry rang out again, but Thaden’s call for Kora died in his throat.

Kora knew the forest, but in her haste, she’d taken the downhill. He could still get ahead of her if he were quick enough over the top of the ridge.

Thaden launched uphill. He had to get ahead of her. Leaves and branches lashed his face and chest as he pressed into the close growth.

As he crested the rise, something whistled in his ear followed by a thwipt like an arrow lodging deep into its target.

Something moved. In the near distance, a woman staggered over the ground, wine-red liquid dripped from her mouth, and she wore a badge on her collar.

Thaden squinted. Is that a sovereign’s symbol? Is she royal!?

The woman stumbled over the brush, opening her mouth, trying to form words:

My son…

Anything else, and Thaden might not have lost his grip.

My son…

Any other words and he could have⁠—

His head throbbed with a flood of adrenalin, and he closed his eyes against his final memory of his mother.

The cold clutch of her fingers gripping his as she pressed a brass emblem into his palm.

Take it and run!

Then the awful scream from the window…

And his breathless escape to the shelter of Wildthorne Forest.

But Wildthorne Forest offered no shelter now. Thaden’s knees buckled and he crouched behind a thin fir as the hunter tramped, boot-heavy through the brush. A Keenan Otherworlder.

Thaden saw his ruddy face and black eyes, but this time he stayed hidden. This time he didn’t run.

Groaning, the Keenan heaved his victim up over a massive shoulder, and as he turned, Thaden saw it—a flash of sunlight against a curious brass emblem dangling from the Otherworlder’s throat.

How did he have that?

The Keenan bore the woman deep into the old growth. And after a brief lull, the crying resumed and Kora burst from behind a scrub oak and found a tiny cub at the roots of a fir tree, caught in a trap and unable to free its right forepaw.

She reached for her knife. Come on, Thad, help me!

Bending down, Thaden offered Kora his two strong hands, though now they were pale and bloodless. Somehow, he wrestled the jaws of the iron trap open. The cub pulled free as the spring released, closing with a powerful snap!

Kora caught the cub up in her arms and grinned. Folk from the Outer Reaches hailed it good luck to free creatures from any form of bondage, but this cub was not so simple.

He was a Lynnix—neither human nor animal. Lynnix were shapeshifters, gate-traveling gods, comfortable in both feline or human form.

Few Lynnix lived on the Blue World. This one could have traveled through an inter-world gate, though Thaden wasn’t sure how or where. There was no stable world gate nearby, though there were always unstable gates. These closures could fail and swallow unsuspecting travelers without warning. Beacons offered a level of protection and some traceability, though little more. In the Outer Reaches, the expectation of safety was like any other myth.

The warning horn sounded ages ago! We have to go now! Thaden broke into a run.

Kora hugged the creature to her chest, and they never paused, the entire distance to the edge of the forest. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and it was past dark before they reached Kora’s cottage. The horn had not ceased to blow all night.

One of the search party cried out aloud when he spotted them, Oy! They’re alive!

When the party saw the Lynnix wrapped in Kora’s arms, they gathered around, whispering, grasping for just a touch of that soft gray coat and whatever luck would rub off.

Thaden stood apart, pensive. There was no keeping the Lynnix, but what could they do with him? They’d saved his life. That was a commitment, physical and political. Besides, what they’d witnessed was no mere murder. It was an assassination—most likely political.

Who was this Lynnix? Almost certainly he would inherit a title. He and Kora would have to report the Keenan. And what about that brass emblem around the Keenan’s neck? How much could he say about it? Thaden exhaled a breath, low and heavy. However he weighed these things in his mind, he couldn’t trust them.

2

TRISTENDON HALL

It was against the order of the Worlds for even a veteran gate traveler to rescue a godling, much less two rawboned youths from the Outer Reaches.

Their world was about to change, but in the interim, denial insulated both the little egoists in a gentle grace period that could not last.

"T had, wait!"

Thaden hustled down the steep gravel path toward Wildthorne Station with Kora at his heels. He called back over his shoulder, We’re going to miss the train and it won’t be back to the Outer Reaches for days.

I know, but see what these things have done to my feet! Just look at this wound! Kora stooped down to pull back on the heel of her shoe.

Thaden paused, frowned at her disheveled black braids, the blue strip of silk slung loose 'round her neck. It was just like her, but it had to change. "Kora, you can’t show your face at Tristendon looking so…slack." He took hold of the loose ends of the tie.

She frowned. "I hate formalities."

Fingers deftly knotting the silk, Thaden snatched a quick glance at her hazel eyes. His throat tightened, and he turned away, ambling on down the trail.

Ask a dorm mate to teach you. I can’t dress you every morning.

She scoffed, and he guessed what she was thinking.

"I only meant," he said, face burning, "the minute you enter those gates, everyone is going to weigh, label and judge you. You’re quick. Don’t make it easy for them."

I don’t pretend anything to anyone.

True. Faking was his domain.

And you’re always rushing everywhere. What’s the joy in that?

Right now, he said, breaking into a jog, the joy of rushing is catching the train!"

They reached the station at a dead run. Anticipating them, the stationmaster unlocked the turnstiles and waved them in like local heroes—and as gate traveling candidates admitted at Tristendon Hall, it wasn’t far from the truth—shouting a frantic, Don’t catch those pretty coats in the train doors! as they raced past.

Thaden leaped between the closing doors and wrestled them back open, while Kora bent under his arm, clocking his ankle as she ducked inside. I’m sorry, Thad! I told you shoes were cruel!

He winced and hobbled into the aisle where they dropped into opposite seats as the train gathered speed, wheels whining on the ancient steel-wrought track.

Thaden watched her gaze out the window at the pristine world of the Outer Reaches, and beloved Wildthorne Forest. It had been two years since he’d left for school. And to look at her now⁠—

Thaden would never have guessed she would apply to Tristendon Hall. It was one thing for him. His life afforded him every advantage, but Kora’s life—her life saddled her with every issue. He cleared his throat. Tristendon is pretty ambitious—for someone who hates formalities.

Well you left and-- She cleared her throat. "I got ambitious."

The faculty are always embroiled in some scandal or other over harsh discipline.

I suppose I never could have managed admission on my own, but then they reached out to me.

He started. "They reached out to you?"

She turned her gaze to the window view of the forest.

"I didn’t think Tristendon just reached out to people."

The corners of her mouth turned down. "They did me."

It’ll be no romp in the woods.

Pity. She sniffed. "Our romps in the woods saved me."

"I love Wildthorne Forest as much as anyone—even you, His chest tightened. But you—both of us--" he thumped his collarbone, "risked life and limb rescuing that Lynnix last year. It was just good luck he found his own way out of here without raising both our profiles to the Gate Alliance." In his pocket, his fist closed around his mother’s brass emblem.

The glimmer in Kora’s eyes clouded, and grew distant. "It’s been two years now and as many heartbreaks. She glanced back at Thaden. Everyone always leaves me behind."

Heartbreaks? Who was the other one?

Kora dropped her gaze. I’m finished being the one left behind. This time, I’m going ahead.

"Well, I’d never hold you back."

She cast him a side-eyed glance, but said nothing, and the sharp edges of Thaden’s dead mother’s brass emblem burrowed deeper into the flesh of his fist.

She doesn’t believe me.

Late evening, as the train eased into the station, Thaden gazed out the window as Tristendon Hall came into view, its massive facade dominating the hill above. Every year on the eve of convocation, the administration lit up the school. He had seen The Projection twice before and it still affected him, but when Kora blinked awake, she couldn’t restrain a gasp.

Glittering arrays glossed the stone face of the hall. Gold. Pink. Gray. Blue. And it wasn’t just the light. Clouds of vapor poured from the doors and out of the grand, marble trimmed windows. The structure looked as if it were a giant jewel box, a kind of djinni’s lamp of possibilities, and those possibilities seemed to be pouring forth, and rolling out to meet them. It wasn’t beautiful. The forest was beautiful. The Projection was garish, over-wrought. Some would call it ridiculously self important. But if it was, it was still magnificent in its conceit.

He led the way up a steep road strewn with a carpet of red leaves fallen from the sumac branches arching above. He eyed her overwhelm with some satisfaction. Kora lived in chronic under awe of everything the Allied Worlds offered. It was good to see her take a little shock.

All was silent, but for the wind and the clap of their tired footfall upon the pavement. Things had to be said, but how could he even begin to prepare her for what was coming? He had to at least try. "I don’t want to sound condescending, Kora, but I’ve got to warn you. You’ve lived your whole life in the Outer Reaches, and things are different here: formalities, titles, rules—there are so many rules!"

He glanced over at her distant expression and coughed into his fist. "Problem is, a lot of the rules are unwritten, and they’ll hold you to them anyway, because they’ve been floating around in the air for hundreds of generations—but they weren’t in your air. The Outer Reaches has no history. People here would call the village backward. My first year was, he swallowed, tough, actually. And you’re going to make mistakes."

A stiff wind gusted through the valley, tugging at their coats and whistling. Thaden scrubbed his fingers across his scalp, breathing a pent-up sigh. I said you’re going to make mistakes!

You’re not trying to scare me, are you Thad?

The thing is, people here can be pretty judgmental, and really unforgiving.

They crested the hill and she stepped backward, gazing up at the hall. Wow! I wonder who has to wash all those windows.

He frowned. Kora?

I’m listening.

Good. Orientation will be some help, but between now and then—whatever you do—promise me one thing?

Finally, she turned toward him, giving him her full attention. Promise you what?

Stay out of the halls tonight. Just keep in your room and copy what everyone else does. Don’t get curious. Don’t go wandering.

She shrugged. Fine.

He grunted. That was way too easy. She hadn’t even asked him why she shouldn’t go wandering, and he was tired of lecturing. He’d tried. But the fact was—being the way she was, promises or no promises, Kora would find trouble.

Tristondon

3

CUSTOMS OF THE COUNTRY

On the threshold of the Hall’s grand double doors, a shadowy figure reached out and rung the bell. In a blink, the jarring clang of ancient bronze answered, reverberating across the grounds for miles.

Further off, at the gate entrance, Kora stared, stepping forward as though pulled by a string.

Thaden clapped his hand on her wrist. You don’t just waltz through the broad doors of Tristendon Hall!

Kora pointed. "She does."

"That, Thaden swallowed, is Reia. A fourth year. And when you master the Gates of Grief into the Sixth World, you can use the broad doors, but not before. Come on!"

They took a path that wound through a garden and around the south side of the hall.

The back door at Tristendon was nothing like the broad doors. It was only a single, plain door of ancient white pine, narrow but tall, standing above a short stack of crooked stone steps. It had no bell, but the knocker made a ruckus like the tumbling of heavy blocks.

Don’t let it scare you, Thaden said, noticing Kora flinch.

Her eyes narrowed. "Nothing scares me."

His jaw locked. Probably true.

The door’s hinges creaked and a gray-bearded man appeared, filling every inch of the frame. His shoulders were so broad, he had to turn sideways to step across the threshold.

Wildthorne! Come too late for dinner, as usual. The rest of your class is upstairs abed. Only you stragglers are left. And… He squinted his bright green eyes. You must be Ms. Featherstone. Come in, my saplings.

Thaden covered his yawn. Grigsley! Hullo!

"Go to the kitchen if you like, but be warned, Cook is past tired and his stew is, what to call it? Feisty?"

Thaden shook Grigsley’s massive hand. We’ve eaten on the train, thanks.

Kora’s mouth only gaped wider as she crossed the threshold and gazed upward at the ceiling of stained glass doming the hall. The lights on the exterior glowed within, stray beams casting odd shadows across their faces.

Marble floors gleamed at their feet and between the seams of the marble stones, agate and amethysts glittered. Kora stood on her toes, careful not to step on the semi precious gems.

Walk normally, Thaden whispered, elbowing her in the ribs.

Metal jangled, and a woman approached. She was an older woman with graying black hair, but wore a leather patch over one eye.

Hello, Mrs. Stint, Thaden said.

Stragglers, Grigsley said. They’re last on the list.

You’re late, Wildthorne, Mrs. Stint said, voice curt. She stared at Kora. Ms. Featherstone, I presume. Follow me to the girls’ dormitories.

Kora stepped forward, throwing a backward glance at Thaden.

She’s hall mother. Go, Thaden whispered, And remember what I said!

Kora Featherstone followed the leather-clad hall mother up the broad staircase, right hand grazing the ebony banister.

How many trees worth?

The entire hall was splendid—or it ought to be, but—she sniffed, recoiling at the faintest odor.

What is that?

They wound up two floors and through a broad common, flanked with marble and bronze statuary. Eyes followed Kora everywhere. Towering sculptures. Larger than life-sized busts cast long shadows across the corridor. She flinched at a bronze with hands shaped like eagles’ talons.

The sculptures were obviously intended to intimidate, to over-awe, if not outright terrify. Kora’s throat tightened. Her bold bluster faded. If they were meant to frighten, then they just managed it.

Mrs. Stint turned down a corridor paneled in mahogany.

This must be Tristendon’s east wing.

Paintings and busts adorned the corridor and walls, but as they walked, the furnishings became a little more spare, the finishing a little more functional, until they reached the end of the east wing dormitory.

Panes of glass shuddered in the window frames as the wind gusted outside. The sound of low murmuring silenced as Mrs. Stint’s shadow fell across the darkened dorm room.

Your bed, Ms. Featherstone, is the eighth along the wall. Top bunk. Wear the nightdress hanging on the bed post. Hurry! Convocation begins early!

The door latched with a loud click, and Mrs. Stint’s retreating footfall echoed along the corridor.

Kora groped her way in the darkness across the room toward the sixth, seventh, then eighth bunk. Scrambled into her night dress and climbed up the rickety ladder to the top bunk.

When the faint light glowing beneath the door collapsed to darkness, a voice spoke from below her bunk.

You’re Kora of Wildthorne.

No, she said. Nothing like a Wildthorne. My family name is Featherstone.

"You’re not Thaden’s girlfriend?"

She flinched. "I’ve nothing to do with him!" Thaden’s father’s words—words I can never forget.

The girl popped her head out of her bunk. A beam of moonlight shone over her jet hair, illuminating a pair of wide set, striking black eyes. Shrewd. At least five in this room alone would shave your head in your sleep if you tried to lay claim to him.

Face heating, Kora pulled the flannel of her bedsheet up around her.

I’m Radient Vannsdaughter of the Red World. And that’s Prism Arrowinn of Thant. Radient pointed to bunks, rattling off a half-dozen more titles and foreign names from various worlds and quadrants, pointing at faces she could not perceive in the darkness.

Are you all first years?

We’re second.

Kora snuggled down in her bed. Where are the first years?

Trapped in the Vault.

"The Vault?" She sat upright again.

A proving prison for new students. You’ll find out tomorrow.

When will that be?

When they drop you in along with the others.

Her stomach turned.

Shhhhhhh. Another voice hushed. "Both of you—go to sleep before Mrs. Stint hears and sends us all to the Vault!"

Kora’s pulse raced. The Vault has to be a joke, though the final threat shut the girl Radient up. Did the faculty really lock first year students in a proving prison? And who threatens to shave a stranger’s head in her sleep? She tossed to her side. No one does that. What had Thad said about the students? What had he called them?

Unforgiving? Judgmental? What else?

Kora trained her focus on her breathing. Sleep was going to be impossible. She opened her lungs.

Remember my reasons.

Towards dawn, Kora flinched awake. The pilled flannel sheets scratched her thighs. She brought her knees up toward her chin and listened to the erratic rhythms of deep breathing in the dorm room. But it was already too close to morning; she’d never relax enough to fall back to sleep now.

With a sigh, she sat up and crawled down the bunk ladder. Padding across the room, she peeked