Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) (15 page)

CHAPTER 27

A
ni’s Gifted cohort seemed to be around rather too much after that first evening, gadding about in the lounge while Syl took refuge in her room. Dessa made it her business to smile warmly at Syl as they crowded in and she slid away. On their third visit, after Syl slunk from her room to visit the toilet, Dessa was waiting for her outside the door.

“Hi, Syl,” she said, almost shyly, when the younger girl emerged.

“Hey,” said Syl.

“How are you?”

Syl looked pointedly at the visitors. “Just fabulous, thanks. Positively peachy.”

“Sorry we keep invading your space,” said Dessa. Her purple eyes were wide and mournful.

“Why are you all here again?” said Syl.

“Well, it’s a bit of a tradition we have really. Every time one of the Blue Novices has a major breakthrough, we celebrate with them at their quarters.”

“Are you telling me Ani has had three major breakthroughs?”

Syl had not known, and was surprised and hurt that Ani had not shared the news with her.

“Well, she’s just had the two really. The second one was today: she clouded two minds at once. She made two tutors think plates were hot at exactly the same time. Not many clouders get that right so soon.”

Syl smiled to herself, for this was hardly a breakthrough as far as she was concerned. In what now seemed like another life, when she and Ani had rescued the human boys from the cells at Edinburgh Castle, Ani had convinced two guards that Syl was none other than
Vena—Vena the Skunk, the vicious, silver-streaked Securitat whom they hated most of all. In retrospect it had been the high point of several rather horrible days.

Dessa smiled back at her, clearly believing they had made a connection.

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But you’ve been here three times, not two,” said Syl.

“Well, last time was Mila.” She had the grace to look embarrassed. “I know, I know; Mila and Xaron have nice big rooms too, just like yours—we really should have gone there. But the thing is, Mila’s governess came with her when she joined the Sisterhood. A bit like yours did. Only yours has gone, so lucky you! Freedom! And extra room.”

“Yes. Lucky me.”

“And frankly, Mila’s governess is a pain in the backside.”

“I see. Well, enjoy yourselves.”

Dessa followed Syl back to her room.

“I’m a bit fed up actually. Fancy some company?” she said.

“I’m busy.”

“Maybe next time?”

Syl felt a little guilty as she looked into Dessa’s earnest, hurt face, and she recalled her vow to Ani, her promise that she’d try to be friendlier. Anyway, Dessa didn’t seem that bad.

“Maybe next time. See you, Dessa. Thanks,” she said.

Dessa’s smile blazed like a flashbulb as Syl shut the bedroom door.

•  •  •

Time dragged on that evening, and Syl grew bored locked away in her dull little room. She couldn’t settle. Briefly she thought of heading out to explore, but doing so after lectures seemed foolish, for all the teachers would be back in the Fourteenth Realm, and it was to here that she hoped to gain access. No, going during class would be preferable.

Still, pins and needles prickled up her legs, and the precious sanctity of her room started to close in on her like a prison cell, its tight little window letting in the promise of a million other realities, but none that she could reach, and none that could possibly be as claustrophobic as this life she was now forced to lead in the cloistered domain of
the Nairene Sisterhood. She needed to stretch her legs, to run, to escape. To be free.

And still the celebrations in the room next door continued. Would Tanit and her acolytes ever go away?

Syl got up and stretched, pacing her quarters, imagining striding again across the Highlands, scrabbling up the steep hillsides in wind and rain, leaping squealing into an ice-cold loch then warming herself by a smoking fire, cooking bits of fish on a stick as her back stayed cold and her wet hair dripped down her spine, while her front was toasty warm, her cheeks pink from the heat.

Here, in this wretched warren, there was no change of climate, no sudden weather madness: all was faultlessly temperature-controlled by hidden monitors that made minute adjustments throughout the day and night. When you went to bed, sensors read your body temperature and adjusted the conditions in the room accordingly for maximum comfort, adding humidity, taking it away, cooling, warming. The common areas had just one setting: pleasant. All was a bubble of pleasantness: perfect weather without the inconvenience of having to take a coat, or even take off a coat. Even the showers selected the water temperature automatically. The sensors decided what was best, what would make a young Illyri’s body most comfortable, yet they knew nothing of a young Illyri’s spirit.

When they had first arrived, Syl had longed to feel the elements on her face again, and as the months crept by she found her yearning only grew for the burning cold wind she’d so loathed in Edinburgh as it whipped around the castle in winter, cracking her lips and splitting her fingers open like swollen fruit. She thought often of the gentle sunshine of April, of the November rain on her upturned face, of snowflakes sliding down her collar and catching in her hair in January. She’d do anything to feel that brittle lake biting into her skin again as she splashed Paul, his skin slipping wet beside hers, to feel once again the goose bumps of pain and pleasure.

That was when Syl had a minor revelation. It was nighttime now, and that meant the gymnasium would be empty too. During exercise
classes they occasionally swam in the beautiful kidney of a pool set under a fortified crystal dome, but during the day the water that engulfed them was always tepid, its soothing droplets enveloping the bathers as gently as a womb. Syl had grown to loathe it.

Yet by night, when the gym was closed, all power would be cut, just as it was to the lecture halls, because energy was a precious commodity on the barren moon that was Avila Minor. Surely that would mean the swimming bath’s cozy, cloying waters would be losing heat right now? And she’d have the place to herself. She could swim naked, and dry herself with the towel in her locker before coming back, and no one would ever know. Maybe, as a bonus, Tanit and the others would have gone by the time she returned.

She dug in her drawer for her locker key and a small glowstick—for the gymnasium would be dark, and the locker room more so—and with these tucked in her pocket, safe and invisible, Syl took a deep breath and strode out.

Nobody even acknowledged the stony-faced Syl as she sailed past, her nose in the air. Tanit, Sarea, and Nemein had draped themselves across cushions on the floor, gossiping with Ani, ignoring the interloper. At least Ani had her back turned, so there wasn’t the mortification of being snubbed by her best friend or, worse, pitied. Syl would rather have had another showdown with Tanit than see that stricken, apologetic expression on Ani’s face ever again. Meanwhile, on the far side of the room, Dessa was engaged in lively discussion with the sisters Xaron and Mila. She was leaning against the doorway of the kitchenette, and she didn’t notice Syl.

Only Iria saw her leave, her features cool and unreadable. Iria had never hassled Syl, but then she’d never helped her either, for Iria just watched and waited, her eyes shrewd. Ani said Iria was clairvoyant, but had gone into a sulk and refused to elaborate further when Syl had wondered—okay, scoffed—why, then, did Iria always ask what was for dinner while standing in the canteen queue, and then complain about it every time?

•  •  •

True to Syl’s expectations, the nighttime gymnasium was cooler than the hallways outside, low underwater lighting casting a blue glow around the deserted cavern. The pool was dark and still as Syl slipped her hand into the water to test it, and it, too, was colder than usual, although still some way off the freezing waters of the freshwater lake of her memories. Still, it felt rather heavenly to have this entire place to herself, and she quickly slipped her robe over her head, dumping it on the ground, then slid into the water. Goose pimples tingled briefly across her body and she smiled, delighted by the sensations, enjoying the surprise of cool water between her thighs, against her belly, under her armpits. She took a deep breath and plunged to the bottom, sitting on the floor of the pool, staring up through the rippling water at the distorted sky. Everything was utterly silent, which was a rarity for the Marque, for the libraries and corridors still echoed with padded footfalls and hushed voices even in the darkest hours of the night.

Why, wondered Syl, had she not thought to do this before?

•  •  •

Afterwards, she scuttled dripping to the changing rooms. She was shivering, and had forgotten to fetch her towel—now she remembered that being chilly wasn’t very nice at all.

It was dark beside the lockers. Water pooled around her feet as she fumbled with the lock, flinging the door open to be met with a funk of dampness and unwashed garments. She grabbed her musty towel, but as she did, something unfamiliar slid off it, settling atop the junk at the bottom of her locker. It looked like a small parcel of some sort. Syl bent to retrieve it, turning it over carefully in her fingers. It was an envelope, lightweight, but there was something hard pressing against the parchment, and her name was written in neat, curling script on the front.

Curious, she sat on a bench and opened the packet, removing a folded letter from inside, but the words on the notepaper were even more vague than those on the envelope, as if written in a whisper. Baffled, Syl activated the glowstick, bathing the message in soft light.

Dear Syl Hellais
, it read, old-fashioned in its formality.

Soon I shall be leaving here, and I thank you for your kindness to me. I know your consideration did not make you any friends, but it meant much to one such as myself.

At the risk of stretching the boundaries of our acquaintance, may I request of you one final kindness?

I entreat you to safeguard the enclosed amulet and, as soon as you are able, to deliver it to my mother. Her image is engraved on the piece. Her name is Berlot Mallori, and she resides in Lower Tannis. I beg of you not to entrust the amulet to another. My mother values it highly.

I am most grateful.

I wish you a long life, Syl Hellais.

Sincerely yours,

Elda Mallori

Elda’s disappearance remained unexplained, but any questions about her possible whereabouts were discouraged by Oriel and the other full Sisters. Some Novices whispered that she had been quietly returned to her family on Illyr because of her unsuitability for the Sisterhood. Now, if the contents of the letter were to be believed, it seemed that Elda had indeed somehow managed to leave the Marque, but clearly not to return to her family on Illyr. Syl reread the note, perplexed, then shook the contents of the package into her palm. A very ordinary locket fell out, lackluster and brown, fastened onto a thong of thin, hard leather.

What a strange, ugly piece of jewelry it was, though, flat and cold and completely lacking in ornamentation or notable craftsmanship. Laser-carved on the dull metal surface was an engraving of a woman, presumably Elda’s mother, sharp-faced and angry-eyed. The engraving was nothing special, nothing that any half-baked jeweler couldn’t have made using an existing image and dated computer technology. Frowning, Syl slipped her fingernail into the slit that opened the locket, sure that its true worth would be revealed inside, but it opened easily like a clam on a hinge, and gave her nothing except smooth, brown metal. There wasn’t as much as a memento, lock of hair, image, or love carv
ing. Syl shut it again, and turned the piece over in her hand. There were several scratchings on the back. She held the glowstick closer.

“A-R-C-H . . . arch what? Archaeon? Well, that means absolutely nothing,” she muttered to herself.

But then neither did any of this. Yet there had to be some reason why Elda wanted to get this cheap, unattractive trinket back to her mother so desperately. Such a weird girl.

None the wiser, Syl popped Elda’s note and the amulet back into the envelope, dressed, towel-dried her hair, slid the slim parcel into her pocket, and headed back to her rooms.

•  •  •

Tanit and her crew appeared to have left at last and only Ani remained, humming cheerfully to herself as she tidied up the glasses and threw the cushions back on the couch. She smiled pleasantly as her friend came in.

“Thank you so much, Syl. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you letting Tanit and the others visit. I know they appreciate it too.”

“Really?” Syl laughed, and dumped her damp towel on the table, waving a hand dismissively. “No worries, Ani—it’s nothing. But something much more curious has come up.”

Ani looked at her guardedly, then raised a finger to her lips. Syl frowned and Ani gestured toward the bathroom. Immediately Syl understood.

“So what has come up, Syl?” said Ani brightly, her voice singsong and false, all the while looking at the closed door.

“Oh, um, nothing actually.”

There was a rustling from within the bathroom, then the lock turned quickly and Tanit appeared. She studied the pair of them for several long seconds, taking in Syl’s water-marked robe and dripping tangle of hair, and clucked her tongue.

“My darling Ani, you sweet creature,” she said, though it was Syl at whom she stared, gauging the impact of her words. “I believe your continuing loyalty to your friend demonstrates your own goodness, but enough is enough. She is not like us, and I fear she is going to be
your downfall. You are destined to progress higher in the ranks of the Sisterhood than she can ever hope to and you will be forced to leave her behind sooner or later. Better to do it now than to drag it out. Think of it as doing her a favor.”

“Oh, drop dead, Tanit,” said Syl before she could stop herself, yet immediately she regretted it, for something like triumph briefly flowered in the older girl’s face. Then she merely smiled sympathetically at Ani, and with a farewell twiddle of her graceful fingers, she took her leave. Ani looked after her mournfully before turning to Syl, clearly irritated.