The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (18 page)

“
It
’
s possible, I probably could have enforced a direct punishment to you and thereby lessening theirs. The Mothers aren
’
t bound by our requests, but they do appreciate our importance to Chelon
’
s survival.
”

“
So I have made things worse, again.
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Abbot? Will you teach me how to separate my thoughts?
”

“
I thought you would never ask,
”
Abbot sighs out his relief and stands up facing me,
“
This kind of magus isn
’
t like an offensive or defensive pull, which relies solely on your intentional thought and the ink. Those have a tangible result. Anything to do with the mind, alternative sight, or searching are subject to a thousand factors. Where you are, who is near you, what you have at your immediate disposal. External factors can interfere with an intangible magus. That makes them extremely advanced magusi.
”

I nod even though I don
’
t understand. I just want to forget PG3456
’
s bloody arms trapped in chains. Abbot leads me to the mirrored wall at the back of his den.
“
Look at yourself. Picture your mind as a set of different sized shelves and drawers. Visualize all your knowledge and all your ideas as objects inside those cabinets.
”
He raises his thumb and traces the ink behind his left ear. Then he passes his palm over his eyes and back to the base of his neck.
“
Now, take the object form of the thought you want to pack away, and place it in a drawer. Lock it up.
”

I can almost see the iron cuffs, sticky with blood. I go through the same motions as Abbot and leave my palm on the back of my neck. My vision goes out of focus and Abbot says,
“
Excellent. Now we will try it with ink.
”
I feel the stinging pressure of the stamp behind my ear and try the movements again. This time when my vision blurs a room full of wardrobes and chests of drawers appears sharply before me. I can feel the iron cuffs in my hands as I pick them up from a round table in the center of the room. I place them in an old dusty wardrobe drawer. My reflection stares back at me a hundred times over in the moldy mirrors on the front of the wardrobes around the room. Standing there, looking around at the vast space, I brush the round table clean with my sleeve. The room slips out of focus and Abbot
’
s den comes back into my line of sight. I feel less on the point of violence, able to think clearly about what my actions have meant to PG3456.

“
I think I managed it,
”
I say.

“
It should be easy down here with no distractions. It will be much harder when you are in middle of something you need to set aside. Practice dissecting your thoughts tonight after power down. See if you can separate different elements of the same idea, concentrate on only one aspect at a time until you have the entire idea diagrammed in your mind.
”

I look at myself reflected on Abbot
’
s back wall of mirrors. My hair is unkempt from the scene in the Amendments Spire and running across the city, and my eyes are still red from crying, but have lost the wild animal glint. I feel calm for the first time in years. I turn my head to the side and pull my ear forward so I can see the shape of my newest tattoo. There is a tree with crescent shaped green leaves and long tangled roots running the length of my ear.

“
Thoughts take root in our minds, getting tangled together until we can no longer tell what is emotional and what is factual,
”
Abbot tells me, pulling his own ear forward. His tattoo is already transforming back to its pattern form, but I catch a glimpse of a mass of wildflowers sprouting out of a human head before it is gone.

“
Be careful how you use this, Keres. Don
’
t become so reliant on it that you can
’
t make a move without it. Thought separation is like a drug. Some of us can
’
t sleep anymore without using it.
”

“
I will, Abbot, thank you.
”
I can see why- the clarity I have is unlike anything else I have felt. I feel almost free.

“
I should go back to the block and get ready for PG3456
’
s release,
”
I tell Abbot. Although I am not sure what to do, I am fairly confident that I will figure it out when I get there.

“
Let Zink show you around first. You have hours yet before they return. There are things here which will help you speed up their recovery. When you have seen everything, Zink will help you prepare for tonight. Healing is his primary objective, remember.
”

“
She
’
s got the Dominato tattoo now,
”
Abbot tells Zink as soon as he opens the door,
“
At 18:30 go with her to collect them. She
’
ll need help getting them back to their block. Take what you need.
”
Zink nods assent.
“
Some of them may need help putting it into perspective, do that for them,
”
Abbot starts walking back down the hall.

“
I
’
ll have to clear that with Journer,
”
Zink says after him.

“
Already have, but do whatever lets you sleep at night,
”
Abbot calls over his shoulder.
“
Just don
’
t let them know that
’
s what you
’
re doing.
”

“
Obviously,
”
Zink says under his breath. He turns and looks at me. I feel strangely at ease. I can do nothing for PG3456 until 18:30. When that time comes, I will be able to act. Until then, I will keep the iron cuff locked in its wardrobe drawer and concentrate on what the hall has to offer.

Zink picks up his pack and we walk down the hall. But instead of pushing the call button as I anticipate, he stops at the door numbered 49 just before the elevator. He places his palm flat on a metal plate and pushes it open. On the wall directly in front of the door is a large portrait of a group of twenty or so people, strangely dressed with elaborate tattoos on every visible part of their skin. They are gathered around a long table littered with books and maps. All around them, strewn on the floor and hanging on the walls, are peculiar artifacts- a bow made from a single horn from a large animal, crystal phials filled with different colored liquids, a silver sword and shield carved and studded with sapphires, a strange open ball made of different metal rings, a long spear with a jagged purple stone fixed in the top, several beautifully made knives and daggers and a large shallow golden bowl. For a long moment, I stare at the people
’
s faces which betray sad and serious expressions.

Nudging me forward, Zink says,
“
Put your palm here,
”
indicating a place on the wall to the left of the painting,
“
It will scan your hand in to the security bank. Now you
’
ll be able to enter the Warren without an escort.
”
We round the corner and I am confronted with another long hall. There are so many different kinds of materials used to create the Warren, it reminds me of a patchwork quilt. Colossal wooden beams support the ceiling in some places. Thick metal doors alternate with wooden ones. Scattered among a mass of concrete, patches of wood, packed dirt and sheets of metal are large stone stretches of floor. Footsteps echo around the walls as Unspokens go about their business. A musty smell of moist dirt seeps through the walls. I feel like a mole in a huge rabbit burrow.

“
It
’
s big down here, but everything is on a grid and all halls lead back to this main one so you can
’
t get lost. It was built over several centuries so it
’
s a little patched up,
”
Zink says walking forward.
“
We just passed the combat training areas and down there is the food hall. There
’
s a kitchen, cafeteria, and a couple of storage pantries. Across the way here is the med bay, additional training areas, and weapons development.
”

“
Combat and weapons?
”
I ask as we pass the cross-section of halls with heavy iron doors.
“
Are we fighting someone?
”

“
That is something for which you are not yet ready to know,
”
he says. At a glance to my expression he adds,
“
Give it time.
”

After several minutes we reach the last intersection of halls and turn down the righthand side.
“
You
’
ll spend a lot of time here in the coming months. It
’
s the oldest part of the Warren on this level.
”
He pushes on a huge solid oak door on the left and we step inside.

The room is crammed with rows of shelves, each one tightly packed with books of all sizes. I walk forward, running my hand over the book spines, feeling the different leathers.
“
And I thought my shelves were full. What is all this?
”
I ask in awe.

“
The Magus Library. Every magus ever thrown, the theory behind it and the different ink formulas used are explained in these books. I spent hours in here before I ever earned my first tattoo, but I wasn
’
t on the accelerated training schedule you seem to be on.
”

Zink lets me wander for a long time, reading the titles, pulling books off the shelves, flipping through them and pouring over the diagrams.
“
I had no idea it was so complicated,
”
I whisper.

“
For most of us it is, extremely complicated. For you, it doesn
’
t seem to be. You threw one before you even understood it, before you even knew what it was. It took me over a year to understand the theory and apply it for the first time. Come on, there
’
s more.
”

I reluctantly close a book with a detailed illustration of a complicated ink mixture and its effects on a group of nerves in the upper right arm. Sliding the volume back on the shelf, I turn to Zink and let him lead me to the room next door. When he opens the door, my jaw drops in disbelief.