The Black Stars (6 page)

“What address?” Mason said, putting on his new uniform.
I need to find my boots.

The technician was blank-faced for a moment, and then his upper lip peeled back in the loose translation of a grin. “All students must choose on their first nights.”

“Choose what?” Tom asked.

But Mason already knew. Four Rhadgast had brought them here, two purple and two red. The dome itself showed them the divide between the Rhadgast. Mason had no idea what the divide meant, but clearly one existed.

“Between Blood and Stone,” the technician said.

 

Chapter Eight

 

Mason and Tom were told to follow a line on the floor. The line was yellow, and it pulsed as they moved along, fading behind them and growing in front of them. It showed them the way to the Inner Chamber, which was located in the exact middle of the sphere. It was there the rhadjen met once a week to discuss the current state of the school.

Mason kept opening and closing his hands, missing the comfortable snugness of his gloves, the protection they provided. His skin felt fragile without them.

Tom was just as jittery as they walked. “I don't feel prepared for this. At all.”

“We can speak all the Tremist languages, so that should help,” Mason said, though he knew what Tom meant. Mason didn't feel prepared either. Only a few months ago they were trying to take back the Egypt from Tremist hands.… Now they were here to learn from them? All the while executing a secret mission that Mason didn't know how to begin.

They followed the line through turn after turn. The walls in each section were made from different materials: some walls were polished metal, some were stone, some were glass, many of them glowed softly, providing dim ambient light. It was comfortable, warm, and inviting. Mason took that as a good sign.

Soon the line on the floor began to pulse faster, which probably meant they were getting closer. Mason's heart rate began to rise along with the line; thankfully he no longer wore the mechanism that so helpfully warned him to keep his vitals in check. The tail of his jacket touched against the back of his thighs weirdly, distracting him.
Focus, Stark. You're behind enemy lines.

The line ended at a large set of double doors carved from dark alien wood, with whorls and spirals in the grain. If he unfocused his eyes slightly, he could just make out the details of some ancient battlefield depicted in the whorls, but as soon as he thought he saw something, his eyes would refocus.

Mason and Tom stopped in unison.

“Uh … do we knock?” Tom asked.

“I don't know,” Mason replied. He lifted his fist to knock, then lowered it.

“Well we can't just stand here.”

“I'm
thinking
—”

The doors opened under their own power, cutting him off. Before them was an enormous hall, with rows of benches to the left and right of a central aisle, almost like in an ancient church. A very
wide
ancient church.

The rows were filled with rhadjen, Tremist around his age, some younger and some older. On the left side of the room, some wore their hair in high ponytails, like Reckful did. Over half of them had dark red hair, and their black robes had crimson accents on the collars and wrists. To the right of the aisle, the rhadjen were like the familiar Rhadgast he already knew, like Merrin and the king—mostly purple or violet hair, with purple accents on their robes. As far as Mason could tell, the hair colors were natural, and having purple hair did not necessarily mean you were Stone, especially since Merrin had purple hair; she was not a Stone, or even a rhadjen. Maybe once you chose a side, some were more likely to dye their hair to fit their new identity.

At the other end of the hall, a Tremist stood on an elevated platform. He wore neither red nor purple, but gray, like Mason and Tom. Two more Tremist were with him on the platform: the red one sat near his right, the other on his left. They were clearly the heads of each group of Rhadgast and wore the colors of their side.

The rhadjen all turned in their seats at once, staring at Mason and Tom, who were frozen just past the doorway. Then the room exploded into chatter.

The rhadjen were talking to each other loudly, but Mason could only hear snippets:
That's them, the humans are here, why are humans here, they saved the Will, I don't care, they've met the king, they know the king, Mason Stark, he doesn't look tough.

The chatter seemed to go on for hours, but it was really only seconds. The gray Tremist on the platform suddenly lifted one booted foot, then stomped it on the floor. Mason could see the shock wave spread out from the boot as it rippled the dust in the air. Mason's ears popped and wind buffeted his face. The doors slammed shut behind him.

“What a wonderful im
pression
you've made on our two new brothers tonight, students.” The gray Rhadgast did not have gray hair: his hair was a mix of red and purple. If the colors were any indication, and unnatural like Mason assumed, then he was the leader of the school and could therefore not take a side.

“Such discipline,” he added.

No one spoke. It was so quiet Mason could hear himself breathing. His eyes roamed over the students, who were now facing forward, completely still.

“Welcome!” the gray Rhadgast said to them. “I am Master Zin, leader of our humble school.” He gestured grandly at the Tremist—no,
people.
They were all people here, and Mason had to start thinking that way. Tremist were not really aliens so much as cousins.

Master Zin swept his hand toward the Rhadgast on his right. “This is Master Shem, leader of the Bloods.” He made the same gesture to the man on his left. “And this is Master Rayasu, leader of the Stones.”

Master Rayasu, a man paler than any Tremist Mason had seen so far, was drilling holes in Mason with his eyes. He had a vertical blue scar on his forehead, which matched his bluish hair.

“Thank—” Mason's throat was so dry the syllable turned to dust. He swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom added, elbowing Mason in the side.

Master Zin nodded, seeming pleased, though his smile was hard to see across the room. He spoke to everyone now: “These two humans have come to train at our school. They have been afforded all the rights … and responsi
bilities
 … of a normal student. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master Zin,” everyone replied in unison. Even the teachers. Mason noticed older men and women sitting at the outer ends of the rows, clearly not students. “Now, with the addition of these two, plus two more who have come to train from halfway across Skars, we will have…” Master Zin trailed off as a Stone rhadjen stood up.

It was a girl around Mason's and Tom's age, thirteen, if Mason had to guess. Her violet hair was done in two braids down her back. She looked over her shoulder at Mason and Tom, her eyes narrowed in disgust and hate.

“Yes, Lore?” Master Zin said with extreme patience. “You have something to share?”

“I do,” Lore said, facing Master Zin. “It is well known that these two humans are responsible for the deaths of several Stones.”

The words had barely left her lips before the room exploded into chatter again.
They don't exactly run a tight ship here,
Mason thought. But he was proved wrong a second later, when Master Zin stomped his boot a second time, much harder, rocking the students in their seats. Tom actually took a step back from the wind. Mason's ears were ringing.

“I will
not
ask for silence a third time,” Master Zin said.

The effect was immediate, as before. No one spoke or moved. Lore didn't seem to know whether to sit or stay standing, so she just clasped her hands behind her back, then checked over her shoulder again, as if to make sure Mason and Tom weren't sneaking up on her. They weren't.

“Continue, please, Lore, if you have some point to make,” Master Zin said from the front.

“As I was saying, Master, these humans are killers. They cannot be Stone. Not ever.”

Mason almost expected chatter to break out a third time, but it seemed Master Zin's threat was enough.

Reckful was suddenly standing at Mason's left. Mason glanced up at the only Tremist who had been kind to them so far, looking for some kind of direction.

“Master,” Reckful called out, giving a slight bow. “I offer to take these two under my tutelage, as my personal squires. I will mentor them, and they will be Blood. I think that may be best for everyone.”

Mason wanted that to happen very much. He felt a sudden rush of warmth for Reckful, who was still a stranger but willing to risk himself for the two humans. Mason shared a look with Tom, who appeared just as pleased.

Please say yes,
Tom whispered to himself.

“Reckful, you know that every student must choose his or her own path,” Master Zin said, and Mason's heart sank into his lower abdomen. “If they are of the Blood, it will be apparent this very night. If they belong to Stone…” Master Zin looked over the purple side of the room, as if daring them to object. There were a few mutterings but no obvious talking. “That will
also
become clear.”

Reckful bowed again. “Of course, Master.” Then, to Mason and Tom: “I tried.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “I owe you.”

Reckful only winked like he had before, but it didn't feel natural, almost like he'd learned that some humans wink and was trying to appear more human to Mason and Tom. As if reading his mind, Reckful whispered, “Do you wink with your left or right eye?”

“I don't think it matters,” Mason said.

“Now then,” Master Zin said, rubbing his hands together. “We have a few more menial matters to discuss. Is there anyone here who would be kind enough to escort our newest rhadjen to their living quarters while we finish and prepare the rooms below?”

Please someone volunteer, please someone volunteer,
Mason thought. The rejection was already stinging his face.

But then a member of the Bloods stood up, a tall boy already possessing the animal grace of the Tremist Mason had met in battle. Many of the students gasped, and Mason couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“I will take them,” the student said.

 

Chapter Nine

 

The student looked over his shoulder at Mason and Tom but didn't stare at them the way Lore did (who, by the way, was still sneaking glares at them). Instead, he seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.

“Thank you, Po,” Master Zin said, nodding.

Po bowed, then shimmied out of his row and into the aisle. Every eye was on him, and Mason heard more than one person mutter
traitor
quietly. From
both
sides. It only seemed to make Po smile. And then smile wider as he reached Mason and Tom.

“Shall we?” Po said, gesturing toward the doors.

“We shall,” Mason replied. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet,” Po replied. “C'mon, let's get out of here.”

Mason and Tom opened the doors wide enough to slip through, then shut them as Master Zin began to talk. The feel of glaring eyes on Mason's back was severed like an electrical current.

The trio walked down a hallway in silence for a full minute. Mason didn't know if he should try to strike up a conversation or wait and see if Po was feeling talkative. He shared a look with Tom, who shrugged.

“Do humans have a hard time speaking?” Po asked finally.

“No, I—” Mason began.

Po grinned. “I'm kidding. You're nervous. You should be.”

“Why did you offer to take us?” Tom said, a hint of accusation behind his voice.

“Maybe I'm just curious about you two,” Po replied.

The line in the floor was once again leading them somewhere, though Mason had no idea how it could know where they were going.

“No really, why would you volunteer in front of everyone?” Mason asked. “Did you not hear what they were saying?” There had to be some underlying motive; perhaps Po wanted something from them.

For the first time, Po's face became somber. “You want the truth? Once, my older brother's ship was boarded by some ESC special forces. They had him cold. A few of the humans executed his men, but one human put a stop to it. He had to draw his weapon against his own kind.” Po's eyes were far away, remembering. “My brother told me there was more to humans than we thought. He died three years later, but I still like to believe it's true.”

“I'm sorry,” Mason said. “It's true, though. Just as there is more to Tremist than humans think.”

Po nodded. “You should hear the stories they tell about you guys—humans, I mean. Scary stuff.”

“Oh, we have some stories about you, too,” Tom said.

“In truth,” Po said, “I don't like doing what everyone else does. It's boring.”