Sarah gave me a brisk nod and stepped outside to speak with Muriel while I leaned inside the cave and glanced around. The dwelling was small, and the downwards-sloping ceiling hung only a few inches above my head. A woven tapestry was fixed to the furthest wall with a washbasin at its foot, and nearby a bin held rolls of half-finished fabrics. To the right was a rock shelf that served as a kitchen counter, and beneath it were two miniature chairs and a table. I stepped further inside, leaving my travel-stained boots by the entrance.

Although there were no windows, there was a set of openings on either side of the table. They were blocked with curtains, and I assumed that they led to separate rooms, but I did not look inside for fear of offending Sarah. Instead, I sat in one of the little chairs and leaned my head against the wall, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I could hear Muriel and Sarah’s low voices, but the wind out on the ledge made it impossible to discern what was being said. I bounced my leg apprehensively. I didn’t expect to have a roommate. I’ve lived alone for so long…. I’ll have to be on my best behavior. I’m sure that Sarah’s job is to keep an eye on me until I gain the community’s trust.

I started as Muriel strode back into the room, bending down to address me. “I’ll leave you with Sarah now. I wish you the best here.”

“Thank you for everything,” I replied, and Muriel left without a second glance. The tension in my shoulders diminished the moment she disappeared from view.

“Welcome to Gib,” Sarah said. I nodded and shook her hand, introducing myself. Right away, I was struck by how different she looked from her cousin. While Muriel was broad and sturdy, she was lithe, and she cut a striking figure with a knife strapped around her waist and her dark brown hair tied into a braid.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” I said. “Nico… sorry, Captain Nico, did not tell me anything about where I would be living.”

“It’s no problem. I’m registered to house greenhorns in Gib.”

“Greenhorns?”

She laughed. “That’s what we call the newbies.”

I cringed. “So is that your job? To look after the… greenhorns?”

“One of many. We wear many hats in Gib. I also tend the crops at night and sew in my spare time.”

I inclined my head, already impressed by her. “Is there any chance I could see where I’m sleeping? I’m exhausted.”

“Sure.” She led me to the opening furthest from the main entrance and pulled the curtain back, ducking into a closet-like cave. Inside, it was marginally cooler, but the tight space intensified the feeling of claustrophobia. A mat and fan rested in the center of the space near a stack of pillows and blankets.

I grimaced. “Blankets? It’s sweltering in here.”

“I know it’s odd, but it cools down at night, especially in the winter months.”

“All right. Anything else I should know?”

She gestured to a copper pot by the other wall. “Up here, we’re not connected to running water. If you have to go during the night, you can use that. There are a couple of buckets of water to wash your hands and face in the living room. During the day, I recommend going down to the main ledge to use the facilities.”

“What about laundry and cooking?”

“Many of the lower floors have kitchens, and there’s a washing station at the base of Gib. You’re responsible for taking care of your clothes and food. The rations will be enough until you start to work.”

“What about rent?”

She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. The infirmary and housing are free in Gib.”

I smiled and thanked her again, and she withdrew, giving me space to set down my backpack and change my clothes. The old set laid stinking on the floor, ruined from the days of travel atop Alpizeep’s back. I lay down on the mat, massaging my cramped and weary legs. I closed my eyes, thinking I would fall asleep right away, but instead I thought of Nico, remembering how it had felt to lay side by side by the river. Who is he to these people? I wondered. What has he done that they revere him?

I held a hand above my face and looked through the gaps in my fingers. The ceiling was dark and smooth like it had been sanded. The thought of some Amberastan escapee filing down stalagmites made me chuckle under my breath, and once again, I was struck by the utter impossibility of Bellgate’s existence.

I took a deep breath. My future was still uncertain, but no longer uninviting.

***

Sarah was packing a bag as I walked into the living room. “How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Well enough. What time is it?”

“It’s three in the morning. I’m going to work. Would you like to come?”

“Okay, if you don’t mind,” I replied, rushing to get dressed.

“Bring a jacket,” she called over her shoulder. A moment later, I finished pulling on my shoes and joined her on the ledge. The only light came from a flickering torch mounted on the rock next to our dwelling, and the deadly drop was shrouded in darkness. The cold wind slapped against my face, making me shiver. True to Sarah’s word, it was numbingly cold, an inconceivability after the day’s heat.

I stayed as close to Sarah as possible as she traversed the ledge. Before long, she stopped in front of a mounted ladder that seemed to reach all the way to the summit. Parallel to it was a metal pole, fitted with a metal clip and rope. I watched apprehensively as Sarah clipped the rope to her belt loop, gripped the ladder, and began to pull herself upwards. The rope slid up on the pole as she went, a fail-safe in case she fell. “I’ll send it down when I’m done,” she called.

I stared at the rig, wondering if it was too late to turn back to my new blankets and bed. When Sarah said she was going to work, I didn’t think she was going to climb a hundred yards up a cliff in the freezing cold.

A least five minutes later, the rope clanked back down. With trembling hands, I clipped it to my belt and tied it once around my waist, wishing that Sarah was beside me to check my work. I gave the rig a tug—the rope seemed too thin, and the clip too flimsy.

The thought of Sarah waiting on me was the only thing that forced my half-frozen hands to grab the first rung of the ladder. The metal was painfully cold, and I worried my grip would fail as I climbed slowly, hand over hand, refusing to look down. With each panting breath, a vapor cloud formed in the air around my mouth.

The sight of the summit was one of the sweetest in recent memory. I pulled myself over the edge, my chest shaking with the force of my heartbeat. “At least you’re warm now,” Sarah said, offering me her hand. I took it and collapsed onto the rock, still tied to the ladder.

Sarah gave me only a moment to catch my breath. “Get up,” she said gently. “Look at the sky.” Reluctantly, I ran a hand over my face and gathered myself, turning my head upwards.

It took a moment for my brain to comprehend the sight. “Wow,” I finally whispered. Above, the night sky extended in every direction, a velvety-black expanse filled with a million pinpricks of light. In the distance, I could see the other rocks looming like giants. I stared open-mouthed, my exhaustion forgotten. So this is what Nico meant when he said the view was untouchable.

Behind me, Sarah said something about getting to work and I turned, rushing to catch up with her. I was shocked to see that the view was just as breathtaking ahead as it had been above. The top of Gibnor leveled off into a plateau, which had been converted into a vast garden. Torches sat at the crossroads of each pathway, making the beds of plants glow. Workers in overalls and gardening gloves moved between each bed, tending to the crops with shovels and bags of compost. A series of furnaces ran diagonally through the beds, making the air pulse with heat. Between the lights and the people, the garden felt more like a dreamscape than real life.

“I need to check in for my shift,” Sarah said, “go ahead and look around.”

“Okay,” I replied, torn between feeling lost without her and wanting to explore everything a once. My eyes were drawn to a series of structures spread through the garden, each one a set of four metal poles with tan fabric stretched in-between. They swayed with the wind but never seemed in danger of being torn away. I approached the nearest structure, where a woman was weeding a bed of leafy greens. Inside, it was noticeably warmer where the heat had been trapped by the fabric.

The woman looked up. “Hello.”

“Hello,” I said, suddenly nervous to break the quiet sound of her work. “If you don't mind me asking, what plant is that?”

“Romaine lettuce. A staple.”

“What are the heaters for?”

“To regulate the temperature swings. There aren’t many plants that can survive temperature swings of seventy-five degrees.”

I thanked her, realizing that it would be impolite to take up more of her time. Instead, I continued to explore the garden, marveling at the ingenuity that had gone into its engineering. There were bins, tubing, and pulleys whose purposes were foreign to me. Every inch of space was maximized: many of the plants grew in tiered rack systems, massive bins of compost produced fertilizer, and a drip system irrigated the plants in rows. By all appearances, it was a fully-functional, high-yielding garden in the middle of a desert.

In the low light, I noticed a line of workers waiting at another tent with a woman with a straw hat giving them directions. In my excitement, I rushed over to the line, and words spilled out before I could stop them. “Hello. Would it be possible for me to start work here?”

The supervisor eyed me carefully. “Have you taken the school’s agriculture class?”

“No… I arrived yesterday.”

“There’s a basic course on Tuesday. If you like what you learn, you can start work on Wednesday. That’s two more days to get adjusted. Trust me, you’ll need it if only to get used to climbing all of those damn stairs.” She waved me off, signaling that our conversation was over.

I stepped out of the way and found a spot near a furnace to sit and watch the workers. In the warm glow, I felt a new kind of excitement bubble up in my stomach. Maybe, finally, I can become someone better here.