Casting aside my staff, I flung my whole being into the love of my Maker.

He swirled me around, breathed through me. His presence blazed brighter than both our suns. His voice consumed me with sounds sweeter than morning birdsong. His love drew me forward with the strength of a hundred dancers, so compelling that even my crippled leg obeyed.

Forsaking the edges of the space, I danced right through the center.

The last remnants of the Order’s symmetry fractured. Many dancers backed away. Others reached to grab me but caught only air. Their pattern broke completely, and before they could resume, the earth groaned and shifted. This time everyone heard.

Tiarel’s face whitened, her tight eyebrows and pursed mouth standing out like the tiny embroidery stitches on her gown. A couple saltars grabbed the tower wall, and the ground roiled again. A stone jarred loose from an upper balcony and tumbled down. A dancer screamed and ran to the door.

Heedless of the chaos, I spun toward the center again and stopped. I felt our world break free with a last quiver as it sailed forward on a new current. My feet touched the earth’s joy, and I skipped lightly in place, savoring the exhilaration, the rightness of the moment.

Shifting my gaze down, I saw one dancer sitting and hugging her knees. A strand of auburn hair had escaped from her sodden headscarf. I reached for her hand. Starfire lifted her chin.

I smiled at her, and the panic left her eyes. Mischief scampered over her face, and she took my hand. Perhaps she thought that if our world was crumbling away underfoot, she may as well perish while dancing. Or maybe she welcomed the voice of the Maker reminding us of who we were meant to be. Whatever the reason, she joined my steps as we lightly sprang forward in a long-forgotten pattern of trust. We invited other dancers and many joined in. A low thrumming of the ocean below provided the only rhythm we needed.

We moved with shapes and designs that were new and free of any desire to control. We weren’t ruling the world; we were celebrating the Maker’s creation. Harrier birds and forest hounds, soft clouds and prickly lanthrus, fountain fish and stenella, wind and waves. Our island world sailed forward again.

My lifetime of longing to be a dancer could never have been fulfilled by the rigid rules of the Order or by movements separated from the Maker of the dance. Somehow all along, my spirit had longed for this true movement and connection. I savored the freedom of my limbs, but also of our island, no longer intimidated by the saltars or worried for the rimmers. The Maker was here and all would be well.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Saltar Kemp take a few unsteady steps away from the wall. A smile of wonder tugged at her wrinkled cheeks, and she lifted one arthritic hand toward the sky. But other saltars cringed or tossed their heads, as if driven to madness by hearing and resisting the Maker’s call. Tiarel crouched tight against the wall, hands over her ears, and mouth open in a silent scream. Saltar River helped her up and guided her to the door into the dancers’ wing.

As the world shook free of its shackles, a new deeper rumble sounded. A child screamed from an upper floor. Those who had been looking down from balconies ran back into the tower, and shouts rose from the windows that faced outward.

Had the rimmer army decided not to wait for the report of the delegation? Or was some other disaster approaching? I ran inside, out of the dancers’ wing, and to the old familiar stairway to see what was causing the distress. Several saltars and a few dancers came with me. Taking the steps two at a time, I paused each time the tower shook. I raced past children, some crying, some clutching each other, past the horrible storage closet where I’d once been punished, and to the ladder that led to the roof. Once I reached the highest point of the ringed building, I scanned the horizon in all directions. The rending sound became a crackling, crumbling, tearing roar. Was our island no longer capable of sailing the waves? Were we about to rip apart?

There! I spotted the source of the sound. Approaching from the rim, a finger of water rent the land. Awestruck, I gripped the parapet. The newly formed river chose a careful course, winding between trees. As it neared Middlemost, I held my breath.

Guided by the Maker’s hand, the tear eased between a stable and a smithy, separating them with a creek that soon became a river flowing in a deep crevice.

The channel moved closer. The tear cut all the way down to expose the ocean.

Would it split the Order tower in two?

The saltars who had followed me up to the roof huddled behind me. “Do something!” one of them cried.

I closed my eyes and listened for the Maker’s guidance.

“Join me,” I told them, holding hands with the two closest saltars. Soon a row of us stood together. We raised our arms, in a wide stance, then leaned first to one side and then the other. We weren’t touching the earth; we weren’t opposing the water. We were simply inviting the Maker to protect Meriel, and all the people in Middlemost and this tower.

As land opened below us, we could see down into the dark water. The last finger of the crevice moved to the archway of the garden, then stopped. Buildings groaned in protest, a wall creaked, but then everything fell silent. A relieved sigh poured through the saltars, and we let our arms go limp. Our world was forever changed, perhaps scarred as I was. But we were not destroyed. Perhaps later the Maker would explain this strange occurrence. I had no doubt there was a purpose to anything He allowed.

I climbed back down the ladder and peered into the center ground from one of the balconies. Now that the rumbling and shaking had ceased, one drummer who had remained thrummed a playful rhythm, eyes closed to listen to the tempo of the new current our world was riding. The dozen or so dancers who hadn’t fled in fear picked up the beat and flitted like carefree birds, seeming to fly as they darted around each other.

Laughter bubbled in my throat and I tore down the stairs to get back to that beautiful and changed place. The center ground no longer frightened me. The daygrass tickled my feet, and I found Starfire, took her hand, and joined her skipping steps.

Then Starfire gasped, and we all stopped. Overhead, another impossible event exploded in the sky. Star rain fell, even though it was midmorning. The sparkles were brilliant enough to see even in sunlight. We laughed, caught handfuls of light, tossed the glittering sand back into the air, and watched as the essence of stars coated our tunics. The white uniforms of the official dancers became iridescent. Even their mud-spattered leggings were beautiful in the shifting colors.

The door from the dancer wing opened and Ginerva took a few timid steps onto the center ground. She met my eyes. “If the Order had everything else wrong, were they wrong to only allow the perfect ones out here?”

I didn’t know how to answer. So many things were changing so swiftly. Instinct—or the Maker’s spirit in my heart—caused me to beckon her forward. “The Maker’s letter says He welcomes everyone to share His dance.”

Her eyes brightened like the star rain, and she tapped the earth softly with one foot. Saltar Kemp saw her and gasped, then looked to me. A mere attendant setting foot on the sacred ground? I shrugged. The implications would take time to sort out. For now, I beckoned everyone in sight to the grounds.

My work wasn’t finished. I reluctantly pulled myself away from the celebration in the center ground and hurried inside, through the hall, and to Tiarel’s office where the rimmers had been watching. Brianna stood with hands pressed against the glass, and turned when I entered. “I believed something would happen—but this?” Some of the village elders sat on the floor, gripping the doorframes or furniture as if unsure of what would happen next.

Brantley strode toward me, gathering me into a hug that squeezed the breath from my lungs. “What’s happening? What does it all mean?”

“Meriel is free. And we’ve won the right to read the Maker’s letter to the Order—to everyone.”

He shook his head. “I saw everything, and I still can’t believe my eyes.” He held me at arms’ length and looked down. “And your leg? You leapt and ran. Impossible.”

I shook my head, bemused. I’d forgotten all about my hobbled leg. Was I permanently healed, or had it been a temporary gift in a time of need? The question didn’t seem important. I could live the rest of my life fueled by the memory of today’s one dance and be content.

I laughed and stepped to the window. Dancers still improvised in delightful new steps. Some who had fled ventured back in to the center ground. I spotted Iris, the dancer who had endured shackles. She sprang with the lightest steps of all, seeming to hover at the height of each leap. Ginerva held hands with Saltar Kemp and they tiptoed in childlike circles.

“Where did Tiarel go?” I asked.

Brantley draped an arm across my shoulders. “She came through and into an inner office.”

“Will she honor the test? Will she let me read the Maker’s letter to everyone in the Order?”

He frowned. “I don’t think she’s in a state to decide anything. From the wildness in her eyes, she didn’t seem in her right mind.”

Outside, more attendants and even a prefect or two joined the frolicking in the star rain. I turned from the window with a sigh. I would have loved to dance out there all day, but I needed to complete the task the Maker had asked of me. “The whole school gathers for the noon meal. I’ll ring the bell and also call in the dancers and attendants from their wing. But first I’ll make sure Tiarel won’t prevent it.”

“Not by yourself.” Brantley’s grip on my shoulder tightened.

I smiled up at him, then sobered. I was enjoying his protectiveness far too much. Even though many things were changing, the Order’s original purpose had been valuable, and I’d pledged to serve the world as a dancer. That required forsaking all human attachments.

I slipped from his grasp and marched to the inner office, leaving behind his help and the sigh he gave. Saltar River crouched by the open trapdoor, her hooked nose and posture giving her the appearance of a carrion bird. Other than her, the room was empty. A chill raised gooseflesh on my arms. “Where is the High Saltar?”

Saltar River cut her burning gaze at me. “This is your fault. You invited the madness.”

Her anger was as potent as a leeward wind and blew me a tiny step back. I felt Brantley’s reassuring hand on my back to steady me. He’d followed me, and I couldn’t find it in myself to reject his support.

“Where is she?” I asked again.

River straightened to her full lanky height and jabbed a long finger toward me. “She fought the voice, but couldn’t overcome it. I tried to stop her, but wasn’t quick enough. She threw herself into the sea.”

I crouched by the trapdoor, peering into the depths. The well was cut through the tallest layer of our island clear through to the ocean. Deep in the darkness below, water rushed by faster than the liveliest stream. Anyone entering the sea would have been swept far under our island.

“Why?” My voice broke. She chose death over truth and freedom. Even though she’d tried to destroy me, I couldn’t shake my years of reverence for her. She’d guided the Order because she believed in it. If only she’d left one sliver of her heart open to consider the truth of the Maker who set our world into motion, who had a different purpose for the dance, and who had loved her. It wasn’t His voice that drove her mad, it was her adamant opposition to Him. She set her will against Him with such fury, His very presence made her destroy herself rather than accept what she’d experienced.

Inexplicable tears stung my eyes. I reached down as if I could touch the water, sweet and cool so far below. But only empty air trickled past my fingers.

Brantley pulled me back. “Save your compassion for others. Rumor was that she sent many through that trapdoor.”

I managed a stiff nod. He was right. After all the pain she’d caused, there was a justice in her end. Yet I still grieved for her. And I sensed the Maker did, as well.

Brantley stepped around me and closed the trapdoor. The loud clank as it slammed down made me shiver. How many deaths had this door witnessed?

Saltar River brushed her hands on her tunic. The grief that had rimmed her eyes seemed sincere but faded quickly, and she jutted her chest forward. “I’m the High Saltar now. Leave the Order. You’ve done enough damage.”

I planted my feet and faced her. “Not until I’ve read the Maker’s letter to everyone.”

Her fists clenched, flexing arm muscles strong enough to shove Tiarel to her death. I would never know what had really happened between the two of them in this inner room. Whether Saltar River was grieving her mentor or gloating over her quick action to take power, I’d do all I could to prevent her from controlling the Order. I spun on my heel and left the room where the blood from my injury had once seeped through my fingers and stained the floor. A pang from my ankle pierced upward, and I clenched my teeth, willing it away. Moments earlier, I’d danced with freedom and strength. Surely the damaged tendon was healed.

Saltar River followed and shrieked when she saw the center ground through the office window. Even more dancers were improvising new patterns, and a handful of bold rimmers had found their way to the door and stood, swaying, arms reaching upward in the space that had always been forbidden. “This desecration is your fault.” Her fist clenched and rested against the glass. “Every evil that befalls our world will be on your head.”

She couldn’t intimidate me, not when the Maker’s presence was still so tangible. A laugh bubbled free, and I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I headed to the dining hall, Brantley staying close beside me. I rang the bell for lunch. A worried attendant poked his head from the kitchen. “The meal isn’t ready yet.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry. We’re gathering early for a special event. You can serve the meal after that. And whoever can be spared can sit in the dining hall and listen too.”

The lad’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs, but he gave a quick nod and ducked back into the kitchen.

I stood near the head table and stared out at the many empty chairs.

Brantley braced one foot on a bench. “Will they come?”

Allowing myself a quaver of doubt, I met his level gaze. “I don’t know.”