Sapient Salvation 1: The Selection (Sapient Salvation Series) (8 page)

In my room, I took a deep breath and then pulled the sack off the dress. I dropped the sack, placed the hanger on a hook near the door, and stepped back.

My pulse throbbed in my temples as I looked at the dress. It was identical to the wrinkled and dusty white Obligate Elect dress that I still wore, except it was a black so deep it seemed to absorb and obliterate the faint light in the room. A stark white cord was slung around the neck of the hanger. White—blank—to signify that I would no longer be part of a clan.

The dress had been made for Belinda, but it looked as if it should fit me well enough. We were about the same build, though she was a couple of inches taller than me if I remembered correctly.

I’d turned my back on the dress with a shudder.

Later, as I sat with Mother and Lana among our neighbors who were enjoying the feast, the black dress still hung in my room. I wouldn’t have to put it on until the afternoon. Instead, I wore my favorite dress—a short, lightweight shift in a delicate robin’s egg blue, a color that contrasted nicely with my hair, which was the dark brown color of a cacao bar.

Occasionally someone came to place a hand on my shoulder and offer a murmured prayer of strength or gratitude. Every time it happened, Mother stiffened. I’d kept an eye out for Rand but didn’t see him or his parents.

I watched children chasing after each other with food in their hands, laughing and shouting and staining their clothes on the grass. A few boys knelt in the dirt, drawing shapes with sticks in a game I vaguely remembered. Would any of them grow up to be Obligates, someday sitting in my place with their mourning but brave-faced families?

After an hour or two had passed and I hadn’t managed to eat a single bite from the plate in front of me, Lana leaned close to Mother. “Can we go home?”

My twin looked as exhausted as I felt, and Mother’s face seemed to have aged a decade since yesterday morning. Mother nodded, and we rose from the table, one of many pulled from nearby houses into the small courtyard in our neighborhood.

Just as we turned toward our end of the neighborhood, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face. “I’ll be right back, I need to speak to someone,” I said to Mother and Lana, my eyes on the muscular young man who was walking alone. It was Orion.

Without waiting for their responses, I left them at a quick walk, not wanting to lose Orion in the crowd.

When I caught up to him and touched his arm, he started and whipped his head toward me, his piercing, pale blue eyes guarded. I didn’t realize he’d been so deep in thought, and I felt a twinge of guilt for disrupting him.

I pulled my hand back and retreated half a step. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Orion. I just wanted to tell you, well, I actually just wanted to say thank you.” I took a breath, trying to compose myself under his steady gaze. “You came to my aid during the Selection in a way that was kind and profoundly generous considering what you were going through yourself.”

I fidgeted, tweaking the fabric of my dress between my fingers. I suddenly wanted an excuse to talk with Orion, or at least walk with him a bit. He was one of the only people on Earthenfell who understood what was going through my mind and heart. And he’d brought me a shred of comfort in what was the worst moment of my life. Even though we’d never really known each other, our situation gave us a connection, and I suddenly felt as if surviving the rest of the day depended on acknowledging it.

“I’m pleased I could do something for you, though I think you’re giving me more credit than I’m due.” His eyes softened, the guarded look from a moment before fading. His voice was quiet but resonant, the type of voice that made people want to listen precisely because it didn’t demand attention. “How are your mother and sister coping?”

I gave him a tiny, grateful smile for acknowledging how difficult the day was for my family. Then I shook my head and closed my eyes for a brief moment. “They’re being very brave. But . . .” I trailed off and shook my head again. “What about your family?”

He drew a heavy breath. “My parents are quite devastated. I have no siblings,” he said simply.

His frank way of speaking was such a relief, and it seemed to cut free some of the heaviness dragging at my heart.

“And you?” I asked softly. “How are you doing?”

He pressed his lips together and his eyes went distant for the briefest of moments, and then he focused back on me. “I will face what’s ahead, and I will throw myself into what I must do to survive. But I worry about my parents. I have something to focus on. But they face only the emptiness of my absence.”

I stared at him in awed silence, my lips parted.

They face only the emptiness of my absence.

Orion was much too eloquent to have been stuck in machinery. Not that he had to worry about his job on Earthenfell anymore. “I’m sure your strength is giving them strength,” I said.

His shoulders relaxed in a subtle shift. “Thank you for that.”

I sensed that he needed to be on his way, probably to his family as I needed to get back to mine.

“Would it be okay if I look for you later? At the Departure?” My stomach churned at the mere mention of leaving Earthenfell and also at making such a request of someone who was practically a stranger.

His eyes warmed. “Yes, I would like that.” He said it as if we’d make plans to walk through the orchards together at dusk, and I tried to hold on to that thought.

He lifted his hand in a little wave and then turned and tucked his chin against his chest, already back in his own thoughts, as he strode away.

I turned toward my own neighborhood and set off at a quick pace, hoping to catch up with Mother and Lana. For some reason, the thought of them arriving home without me tore at my heart. One last time, we should all go home from Feast Day together.

When I saw them up ahead, strolling with their arms linked, my breath rushed out in relief. I caught up to them and went to Lana’s other side. My hand found the crook of her elbow.

They both turned to me, curiosity on their faces.

“Orion was so good to me before. I just had to tell him thank you,” I said. I brightened as an idea came to me. “Do you think you could do something for me after I’m gone?”

My heart dipped as I heard myself say the word.
Gone
. But I was trying to follow Orion’s example, trying to be frank about it.

“Of course,” Lana said.

“Anything,” Mother echoed.

“I think it would be nice if you could visit Orion’s parents. He has no brothers or sisters. I think, well, I think they might find comfort in your company. Or maybe not, I don’t really know them. Perhaps I shouldn’t presume . . .” I trailed off, suddenly uncertain.

“No, I’d like that,” Lana said.

Mother nodded, and a faint smile passed over her face. The energy between the three of us seemed to lighten. It took me a moment to realize that my suggestion had given them something to focus on.
Purpose
. It was so important to feel a sense of purpose.

What had my purpose been, before the Selection? My life before felt like a faded, years-old memory. Before the Selection, my purpose had been Court. Yes, marrying Court and living my dream of a future with him.

In the space of a day, I was losing Court, my family, my life on Earthenfell, and my future.

One of the things that cut deepest was the knowledge that being an Obligate meant I’d lost any control over the path of my life right when I was on the verge of being able to make meaningful decisions about what kind of life I wanted. I no longer had the freedom to choose a husband, create a home of my own, or have a family.

I turned my eyes to the sky, and my gaze hardened. My new purpose would be survival, proving myself to Lord Toric so that he would take me into his harem. But I didn’t want only to survive. I would find a way to gain some sort of freedom. There was no point in surviving if I had no control over my own life. I
would
find a way.

*

I stared into the wide eyes of the black-clad young woman in Mother’s narrow mirror, my stomach gripped into a tight ball. It still did not quite seem real. How could that be me? How could I be standing in Mother’s room, wearing Departure black and readying myself to leave Earthenfell for Calisto?

Obligate Maya. That’s what the people offering me prayers throughout Feast Day had called me. Every time, the phrase had dropped like a weight into my ears. Every time, I had the urge to turn and say, “You’ve made a mistake. Obligate Belinda is the one you’re looking for.”

But Belinda was dead, and I was wearing her black dress and her white cord looped around my waist. As I’d expected, the hem of the dress dragged too long on the floor. I’d have to walk carefully, perhaps gather the fabric in my hands and hold it up to keep from tripping.

It was odd to think that her family had been preparing to lose her for months, years. But instead of passing through the portal to Calisto with the other fifteen Obligates, Belinda would remain on Earthenfell, but gone from life. I’d heard she would be buried the next day.

Part of me wondered: was Belinda’s fate preferable to mine? Only nineteen years of life, but at least she didn’t die in a strange alien land.

There was a rap at the door.

“Maya?” Lana’s soft voice interrupted my macabre thoughts, and I was relieved to have the distraction.

“Come in.”

I took a deep breath and turned from the mirror. Mother stared at me, her mouth pinched and her eyes squinting. Lana couldn’t see me, of course, but pain was so clear in her eyes it made it feel as though she could.

I suddenly hated that Mother’s last memory of me was the image of a pale-faced girl clad in black Departure garb. In a dead girl’s dress.

I knew it was time to go, but my feet were rooted to where I stood, refusing to take a step.

Lana left Mother’s side and moved to me. She felt for my hand and wrapped her fingers tightly around mine. Only with her hand gripping mine was I able to unstick my feet and force myself move. She led me out of Mother’s bedroom, through the living room, and to the front door. There, she stopped and half-turned her head, listening for Mother behind us.

Lana felt for the doorknob, opened the door, and walked outside ahead of me with her hand still firm around mine.

I held my breath as I passed through the doorway, trying to numb my heart to the knowledge that I would never pass through it again. I kept my body rigid, refusing to look over my shoulder to watch Mother close the door.

Lana let go of my hand to link her elbow with mine, pressing close to my side as if huddling against a frigid winter wind. Mother took my other elbow.

I forced my face into a neutral mask and locked my eyes on the ground a few feet ahead of us. It was half an hour from sunset and the low-angled dwindling light of the sun made our shadows stretch out in a diagonal in front of us. Three walking shadows pulling ahead and to our left, as if trying to coax us to turn that way.

But that wasn’t where we were headed. I lifted my eyes to the horizon and trained them onto the gentle V between two low foothills. At the base of that V, the overlords would open the portal to Calisto.

A shock of worry shot through me. Would Mother be able to walk all the way to the portal? Perhaps I should have asked Rand if his father could take her in their car.

But her footsteps kept up with mine and Lana’s, and her breaths were quiet and even with no hint of wheezing. The walk, unlike the steep path up to the pavilion, was over nearly level ground. I sensed that she needed to make it on the power of her own two feet, so I let that worry slip away.

I heard the shuffle of shoes all around us, the murmur of low voices, but didn’t care to look around or identify anyone nearby. The only people who mattered at all were the two at my sides.

I lowered my eyelids for a moment, trying to take in the sensations of the cooling evening breeze, the earthy scent of alfalfa harvested from a nearby field, the way the dry ground gritted under my shoes. The exact
feel
of being on Earthenfell.

I opened my eyes to the deepening colors of the sunset. Would there be a sunset on Calisto? If there were, would I ever be allowed to watch it?

“I will write you, as often as I’m allowed,” Lana said, and I started at the sound of her voice.

I tipped my head toward hers, and we leaned into each other for a moment. “Thank you,” I whispered. I’d forgotten that letters could be sent from Earthenfell to the departed Obligates. But I would not be permitted to write back.

The voices and sounds of movement around us thickened as we neared the site of the portal, and I finally glanced around. The faces around me were familiar yet strange, as if my mind were already trying to condition me to the idea that soon I would no longer be one of them.

The crowd slowed, and we slowed with it. I gave myself a mental shake, remembering that I could not hang back as I had six months ago, six months before that, twice a year for as long as I could recall. I forced my feet forward. Mother, Lana, and I threaded through the throng as I aimed us at the point of the V between hills that had looked like gently rolling bumps from a distance but closer up loomed tall enough to blot out much of the sky.

The crowd parted as people turned and saw me in my black dress. A few touched my shoulder or offered a quick word of praise.

At the front edge of the crowd, I stopped. A very old concrete bridge with two crumbling levels and exposed girders joined the two sides of the ravine.

During the spring rains, the ravine filled with water that rushed to meet the river that flowed along the edge of town. At the spring Departure six months ago, when I’d stood back in the crowd as the Obligates passed over the bridge, the rushing sound of the water had added a majestic element to the ceremony. But in the fall season, the ravine was only a darkened muddy line cutting through the hills.

The Selection Controller, again with her hair in a neat gray-streaked bun, stood on the ground near the bridge. She took something from the pocket of her dress—a timepiece—and glanced at it.