The Stone Sky (The Broken Earth, #3) - N. K. Jemisin Page 0,64

is the way of the world, but it isn’t. The things that happen to orogenes don’t just happen. They’ve been made to happen, by the Guardians, after years and years of work on their part. Maybe they whispered ideas into the ears of every warlord or Leader, in the time before Sanze. Maybe they were even there during the Shattering—inserting themselves into ragged, frightened pockets of survivors to tell them who to blame for their misery, and how to find them, and what to do with the culprits found.

Everybody thinks orogenes are so scary and powerful, and they are. Nassun is pretty sure she could wipe out the Antarctics if she really wanted, though she would probably need the sapphire to do it without dying. But despite all her power, she’s still just a little girl. She has to eat and sleep like every other little girl, among people if she hopes to keep eating and sleeping. People need other people to live. And if she has to fight to live, against every person in every comm? Against every song and every story and history and the Guardians and the militia and Imperial law and stonelore itself? Against a father who could not reconcile daughter with rogga? Against her own despair when she contemplates the gargantuan task of simply trying to be happy?

What can orogeny do against something like that? Keep her breathing, maybe. But breathing doesn’t always mean living, and maybe … maybe genocide doesn’t always leave bodies.

And now she is more certain than ever that Steel was right.

She looks up at Schaffa. “Till the world burns.” It’s what he said to her, when she told him what she meant to do with the Obelisk Gate.

Schaffa blinks, then smiles the tender, awful smile of a man who has always known that love and cruelty are two faces of the same coin. He pulls her close and kisses her forehead, and she hugs him tight, so very glad to have one parent, at last, who loves her as he should.

“Till the world burns, little one,” he murmurs against her hair. “Of course.”

In the morning, they resume walking down the winding stair.

The first sign of change is the appearance of another railing on the other side of the stairwell. The railing itself is made of strange stuff, bright gleaming metal not marred at all by verdigris or tarnish. Now, though, there are twin railings, and the stairwell widens enough that two people can walk abreast. Then the winding stairwell begins to unwind—still descending at the same angle, but less and less curved, until finally it extends straight ahead, into darkness.

After an hour or so of walking, the tunnel suddenly opens out, walls and roof vanishing. Now they descend along a trail of lighted, linked stairs that are completely unsupported, somehow, in open air. The stairs should not be possible, held up as they are by nothing but the railing and, apparently, each other—but there is no judder or creak as Nassun and Schaffa walk down. Whatever the stuff that comprises the steps is, it’s much stronger than ordinary stone.

And now they’re descending into a massive cavern. It’s impossible to see how large it is in the darkness, although shafts of illumination slant down from occasional circles of cool white light that dot the cavern’s ceiling at irregular intervals. The light illuminates … nothing. The cavern’s floor is a vast expanse of empty space filled with irregular, lumpen piles of sand. But now that they are within what Nassun once thought was an empty magma chamber, she can sess things more clearly, and all at once she realizes just how wrong she was.

“This isn’t a magma chamber,” she tells Schaffa in an awed tone. “It wasn’t a cavern at all when this city was built.”

“What?”

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t enclosed. It must have been … I don’t know? Whatever’s left when a volcano blows up completely.”

“A crater?”

She nods quickly, excited with the realization. “It was open to the sky then. People built the city in the crater. But then there was another eruption, right in the middle of the city.” She points ahead of them, into the dark; the stairwell is going right toward what she sesses is the epicenter of this ancient destruction.

But that can’t be right. Another eruption, depending on the type of lava, should simply have destroyed the city and filled the old crater. Instead, somehow, all the lava went up and over the city, spreading out like