The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (14 page)

“
I fell down two flights of stairs once.
”

“
And you lived. Not only lived, but walked away. No broken bones and no bruises the next day.
”

“
How do you know that?
”

“
You have been marked since birth, so naturally we have all watched you, protected you. You are our responsibility.
”

“
Then why did you let The Mothers waste two years of my life in Solace?
”
I
’
m crying. No wonder everyone thinks I
’
m weak and unhinged.

“
Because it was better to put you under the Heavy than let you bring the entire city of Chelon to its knees.
”

“
You put me under the Heavy?
”
I
’
m screaming at the top of my lungs again. It was manufactured, it wasn
’
t a lack of self will, it wasn
’
t depression. It was thrust on me purposefully by Abbot. It
’
s as if all the emotions I should have gone through over the last two years are fireballing out of control. Fluctuating between despair and elation over the last 48 hours has taken a toll on what little self-control I possess.

“
Yes,
”
Abbot says simply.

I begin to throw things indiscriminately. Books, desk accessories, decorations from the shelves, gym equipment, whatever I can lay my hands on. My eyes are blazing and I
’
m choking on screams. Each object my hands come in contact with becomes one of The Mothers, one of the five, Abbot for sending the smoke black fingers of the Heavy that kept me trapped under an ocean of depression, my Play Group for making plans without me. But it
’
s not enough, nothing is alleviating the hatred I feel. When I make a move to draw my thumb across the wing tattoo, Abbot is instantly before me with my hands firmly locked in his.

“
Never, ever in anger,
”
he says quietly.
“
Rage as much as you need to, but you will never throw a magus in anger.
”

I jerk my hands and he lets them go, watching me closely. I stand in the middle of the wreckage, regret for my tantrum falling over me like a tidal wave. I wonder if Harc feels this way after her storms of temper. Is this what Merit tells her, never in anger? Because Abbot
’
s words deflate me completely. I feel nothing but shame now.

Carefully, slowly, I try to put together words.
“
Why? Why would you try to destroy me like that?
”

“
You had to be controlled, Keres. Your actions were leading up to something much bigger than childish disobedience. You would have killed that Mother if you had been given the chance and for what? Because she slapped your friend for being smart? Hardly seems worth murder.
”

“
Harc was just a child!
”

“
And so were you. A child on the verge of complete breakdown. You endangered the lives of your entire Play Group because of your lack of control. Righteous anger is still anger.
”

I sink to the floor among the things I have thrown around the room.
“
Never, ever in anger,
”
I sigh out.

“
And that is where I should have started you in training, with self control. I was over anxious to test your ability. I had hoped the Heavy had left you a little quieter.
”

“
Is that what it was supposed to do?
”
I ask.

“
It was supposed to keep you from more violent outbursts against The Mothers. It was supposed to separate you from your Play Group enough that you would feel less inclined to attack The Mothers on their behalf. It was supposed to keep you safe. In retrospect, it appears to have backfired.
”

“
No kidding.
”
I feel more rage against The Mothers, against the Unspoken, against my Play Group than I ever have.

“
No use crying over spilt milk. The Heavy didn
’
t bring forward anything that wasn
’
t already there. We will just have a harder time breaking through than I had hoped. With the progress you showed this morning, it
’
s not really so much a set back as it will be giving us- some pace.
”

“
That
’
s one way of looking at it,
”
I say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. The light flickers on my desk.

“
After lunch, go by the Necessities Center and get something to clean this place up. It
’
s filthy,
”
he says, looking around.
“
Then we can work out some of that aggression in sweat,
”
he says while sauntering out of my den.

I have a brief internal battle between the desire to throttle Abbot and compunction. The guilt wins out and I change for lunch. Zink waits at my door when I walk out, ready to ride up with me. He mentions his hope for something with cheese for lunch, avoiding my eyes as much as I
’
m avoiding his. I manage to humble myself enough to ask him if he would mind stopping by my den after lunch to repair some things I broke. And while he agrees readily enough, his customary mad dash out of the building seems pointedly directed at me this time.

I meet Frehn on the way to the canteen, as the street to the mine entrance joins the one that leads to the Gratis Building just north of the Quad.

“
Hey, Frehn,
”
I say, trying to muster up some goodwill.

“
You look like last week
’
s refuse,
”
he says without hesitation.

“
Thanks,
”
I answer, trying to smooth my hair.

“
You
’
ve got something on your arm...oh. Never mind,
”
he yanks his hand away from the place where my new wing tattoo is. I don
’
t know what to say so I just keep running my fingers through my hair in an effort to straighten it out.

“
Here,
”
Frehn hands me a comb from his pocket. I can
’
t help cracking a smile.

“
You take a comb to the mines?
”
I ask, laughing.

“
My rail car is crazy fast, I have to keep one on me if I
’
m going to stay presentable.
”

“
How far are the mines from the entrance?
”

“
It has to be 20 miles at least. But it only takes five minutes on the bullet train. That
’
s why we can get back to the canteen for lunch.
”

“
Is that the train you conduct?
”

“
I wish, no I run a rail car. It
’
s like a cart from the fields, but moved by electricity that runs through the rails. The bullet train is just like the ones the traders use to get to other cities, just an older, dirtier version.
”

We
’
ve watched those trains leave the platforms just outside the main gate of the outer wall. They are packed with electronics, fabrics, jewelry and coal for weeks leading up to a departure. Then one morning the traders show up outside the gates. The are put through the four checkpoints before boarding the train. When the train takes off, there
’
s a woosh of .air that pushes up the walls of Chelon and down onto the group of kids watch through the gates. It only happens two or three times a year and never with any warning. The trains are just loaded throughout the year and whenever the traders arrive to escort the goods to other cities, that
’
s when it happens. I
’
ve seen trains leave nearly empty and so loaded down that huge crates are tied to the backs of the cars.
I doubt even
The Mothers know in advance of the traders
’
arrival.

Frehn and I reach the canteen before the others, so we stake out a table. I find myself wishing I
’
d had the foresight to wear long sleeves today. Frehn can
’
t stop looking at my tattoo.

“
It
’
s really beautiful,
”
he says abruptly.

I devote myself to the pasta pockets stuffed with cheese.

“
So we can talk about it, you just can
’
t acknowledge it,
”
he says, eyeing me.
“
That will make things easier.
”

“
The sauce is really good today,
”
I say.

“
Excellent,
”
he says stabbing four pieces of pasta forming one giant mouthful.
“
I
’
m starving.
”

“
You
’
re always starving,
”
Merit says as the rest of PG3456 come up behind me.

“
I
’
m a growing boy,
”
Frehn says.

“
Good thing our fifteenth year is more than halfway over. You won
’
t fit in anything pretty soon,
”
Harc says, placing her tray on the table.
“
Especially anything that has to go over your head.
”

“
Nice, really nice. And here I am slaving away on that blasted fiddle to have something to entertain you all with tonight. You can just forget it now.
”

“
I
’
m still trying,
”
Wex says with a groan.
“
You
’
ll have to slave long and hard before I listen to that monstrosity again.
”