Phoenix Burning (10 page)

“I know,” she hissed. “But we know where they’ll be.” She tilted her head at the crypt where the two uncles had subtly shifted their stance, closing their hands around their long clubs and emphasizing the muscles in their necks.

Toby’s gaze skittered after Mother Hesper, who was holding open the door, her eyes glittering in the shadows.

“Come,” she said.

Once the teens had gathered, Mother Hesper directed them along a short corridor and from there, into a large mess hall. Despite the pressure of Father Dahon’s presence like invisible fingers on his spine, Toby’s shoulders relaxed
at the sight of long corrugated iron tabletops and lopsided stools made from old tyres. His nostrils flared at the aroma of bread and stew.

Adele inhaled. “See, Adrien, I told you we would be looked after.”

“You’re assuming it’s for us. Fools.” Ayla marched after Mother Hesper, her long braids swinging, beads clacking together, as though the fragrance that had wound a spell around every other supplicant had hit a vacuum when it reached her. There seemed no sign that she had any interest in the stew she smelled. Then Toby saw her hands close into fists. Ayla craved all right, but had long ago learned not to show it.

He caught up to her. “Must you be so antagonistic?”

“Must you be so friendly?” She shot back. “This is a
competition
.”

“I will show you to your cells and then you can come back here for your meal,” Mother Hesper said. “This way.”

“Praise Soleil … Hail the Sun … Always bright.”

As the others demonstrated their gratitude, Toby gripped Ayla’s arm. “Cells?” he said.

There were dozens of cells lined up. The gloom was only lightened by holes in the ceiling stopped up by transparent
plastic bottles that let the sunlight through.

Each cell had a dirt floor, grey brick walls and space for a small camp bed and a single tyre stool.

“I don’t understand.” Summer looked around, her blond hair shining in the kaleidoscope of light cast by the water bottle above her head. “It’s so dark. I thought … the sun?”

“How can you appreciate the light of the sun if you do not begin your journey in darkness?” Mother Hesper pointed to a cell. “We all have lives of austerity in Solar Order, my own cell is not much bigger.”

“Ave Soleil,” Adele whispered, stepping closer to her twin.

“Choose your places.” Father Dahon had followed them down the stairs and now he blocked what little light glimmered from above.

“Here then.” Swiftly Ayla stepped into the cell nearest the stairs. Toby ducked into the doorway next to hers, marking it as his own.

Once Toby and Ayla had taken their places, there was a rush to choose: Arthur ended up next to Toby, Summer after, then Moira and Brody, Bianca and Cezar. Opposite, Zahir and Uzuri, Adele and Adrien, Lenka and Matus and the two final pairs who Toby had not yet spoken to: the American couple and the Italians, Celeste and Aldo, whose fingers were still twined.

As he was memorizing who was in which spot, Ayla
hissed at him under her breath and gestured to her door.

Toby frowned and looked. The doors were made from toughened plastic, not transparent, but not quite opaque, either. Each had a cluster of small holes cut into the front and sported a thick bolt.

Once they were closed, there would be no getting out of them. Toby and Ayla would have to steal their inverters in the light of day.

“Ashes,” he whispered.

When the couples tried to sit next to one another in the mess hall Mother Hesper held up her hand. “For meals and, of course, bathing, boys and girls will be separated.” She pointed to a separate long table. “Boys over there.” Then she sat at the head of the girls’ table.

Toby saw that Father Dahon waited in front of the boys’ and he forced his disappointment down; this was not the place to talk to Ayla about their mission anyway. Instead he nodded and forced out a respectful, “Praise the Sun,” as he moved into the group of boys and walked away.

Celeste and Aldo looked regretfully at one another and their fingers touched for as long as they could before they were separated. Ayla rolled her eyes and sat, with a flick of her braids, between Bianca, the girl from Budapest with
the claws for fingernails and Leila, the American with the hair of dandelion fluff. None of them spoke.

Toby had paid little attention to who had sat next to him. Now he checked. On his right was the albino, Zahir, and to his left Cezar, the boy with the limp. Arthur sat two places down on his left and Brody on his right. Toby nodded to them and turned his own eyes to the kitchen, joining the others who were all tense with anticipation.

As the door opened, Father Dahon raised his hands to the sky, fingers spread. “For what we are about to receive, we are truly thankful to the Sun. Praise the Orb.”

“Praise the Orb.” Each of his companions raised their hands and eyes.

“Praise the Orb,” Toby muttered, spreading his fingers.

Father Dahon turned his head, bird-quick, catching the slight delay in Toby’s prayer, as if it was a note out of tune in an orchestra.

Toby ducked, even though there was no way for the father to see him. Then he shook his head and straightened. “What’s the worst that can happen?” He gripped the fork that had been waiting for him on the corrugated table.

“Huh?” Cezar looked at him.

“I just…” Toby swallowed. “Nothing, I just wondered, what’s the worst that can happen? What happens if we lose?”

Cezar blinked. “We’ll be trained as silent attendants.
Mother Hesper said so.” He was turning his fork as though it contained a mystery of its own. Toby could almost see Cezar’s brain ticking behind his eyes and he recognized a fellow inventor, one who wanted to know how things worked, to see how things fitted together.

Thoughtfully, Toby lifted his own fork. If he could twist off a tine he might have something that he could use on the hinges or bolt of his door. Something in him rebelled utterly against allowing himself to be locked up with no tools on his side of the cell.

“Food’s coming,” Zahir said.

Toby looked up as attendants walked towards them, then leaned back as a bowl and bread roll were placed in front of him. The smell of stew filled Toby’s senses and his eyes glazed over: spicy warmth, with a hint of onions on the back of his throat, garlic and the meaty flavour of the herbs. Peel was good, but he was a ship’s cook and there was only so much you could do with seagull and herring.

“You think we’ll eat like this every day?” Cezar grinned.

Beside him Zahir was leaning close to his own bowl, simply inhaling. Toby glanced across at Ayla. She remained unmoved, only the slightest flare of her nostrils indicating that she knew the food was in front of her. Did she think it was poisoned? Then he realized that she was challenging herself. He could tell Ayla planned to be the last to eat.

Without taking his eyes from her, Toby closed his fingers around the bread that lay on the tabletop. He smiled as he felt the warm dough give beneath the pressure. Once he had lifted his bread, Ayla gave a satisfied nod and picked up her own.

Zahir was licking his bowl clean. Toby watched him with quiet fascination. He himself had considered doing so, but somehow it seemed as though it was giving away too much of himself; exposing a vulnerability. Ayla too had left smears in her own bowl, like a badge of honour.

Even Adele, Toby saw, was delicately licking her fingers, her eyes closed with pleasure.

Finally Zahir put his bowl down with a deep sigh and saw all the teens rubbing their stomachs, drowsily.

“Do you think we’ll be given time to sleep?” Adrien stretched. “It’s been a long day.”

“That would be nice.” Zahir nodded. “The journey from Africa was difficult.”

“You arrived today? I didn’t see another ship.” Toby frowned, wondering if there was a second jetty somewhere, perhaps on the other side of the island.

“This morning. The crew dropped us off and left straight away. The captain was superstitious. Didn’t want
me on board any longer than necessary.” Zahir’s voice remained soft, but his eyes hardened.

“Why not?” Toby frowned.

He gestured to his face. “Red eyes, white hair – unnatural, is it not?”

Toby frowned. “Rare, but not unnatural, I don’t think.”

Zahir smiled slightly. “Well, our elders agreed with the Solar Order, that Uzuri and I could have only one destiny. Born in the same hour, at opposite ends of the village and looking like this –” he gestured towards his partner – “the elders will share the money once we are crowned.”

“You do make a perfect pair,” Toby agreed, thinking that he already had another potential ally in the group.

“This is about more than what we look like,” Cezar interjected.

“How do you know?” Toby looked at him.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” This time Arthur leaned in. “If it was a beauty contest they would have just picked out a couple in the courtyard. Instead we were brought in here. Mother Hesper mentioned trials. There’ll be other challenges to face.”

“I wonder what.” Toby rubbed the left tine of his fork between his fingers, warming the junction where the prong met the handle. Then he wiggled it until he felt it twist. When it broke free with a snap, he placed the fork
back on the table, slid the tine between two of his fingers and closed his hand around it.

He looked up as a mug was placed in front of him.

Celeste’s voice rang across her table. “Wine?”

Toby tilted his cup and sniffed. He’d had alcohol before – Crocker’s rotgut hooch was a favourite of the other pirates on the ship. He didn’t like it.

As Mother Hesper raised her cup, her robe slid back to reveal arms as thin as her face. “To the beginning of our journey together,” she said. “Praise the Sun.”

Around him the other boys were raising their drinks.

Toby pushed his away, scraping the table as he did so.

“Drink, boy,” Father Dahon’s voice snapped out and Toby caught his breath. Those milky eyes were pinned on him. With a shudder he lifted his mug and took a sip. The wine was sour, too warm and almost vinegar in flavour.

“Drain your mugs.” Father Dahon drew out the last word until he hissed like a broken delivery line in the boiler room.

“What if we don’t like it?” It was Summer. She had taken some of hers and was now regarding it with a curl of her coral lips.

“Knock it back.” Mother Hesper wiped a smear of wine from her mouth.

Toby looked at Ayla. She raised her mug. How much was she used to drinking?

Toby took another sip and Ayla smirked. Without taking her eyes from his, she threw back her head and drained her mug in one go. Then she slammed it down on the table. As though her actions presented a challenge, Uzuri did the same thing, slamming her mug on to the table when she had finished.

“Looks like she’s started the competition already.” Arthur copied and soon all of the others had slammed their drinks. Only Toby and Summer continued to sip. Refusing to be rushed, Toby forced the liquor past numb lips and a tingling tongue.

Summer finished before him. When the girl had put down her mug with a grimace, Mother Hesper looked at Toby. “We’re waiting.”