The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (34 page)

“
Which one is Poy?
”
asks Harc with narrowed eyes.

“
The tallest girl in PG3453, red hair. She can disable the bullet train to the mines.
”

Merit
’
s eyes dance at this news,
“
And you said she
’
s willing? They will come with us?
”

“
Pretty eager to, I
’
d say,
”
Frehn answers rubbing his hands close to the flames and putting them to Doe
’
s cheeks. Each member of PG3453 has interacted with at least one of us by now. Poy and I have met in the Keepers
’
building when I needed to replenish my cleaning bucket supplies. We walked through the halls together and have been distantly friendly ever since. Revvim has raced across the icy river against Frehn and me half a dozen times. He and Frehn are like copies of each other and a handful to keep in order. Impossible to keep on task and always building private jokes together.

“
I
’
ve been moved from shoveling manure,
”
Merit says suddenly, almost shyly.

“
What are you doing now, Merit?
”
I ask, waiting for the worst.

“
Training horses to harness.
”

The room explodes as we all react to this bombshell. Harc tackles him with an engulfing hug and Frehn thumps him on the back. Doe claps her hands and squeals while Wex and I whoop in excitement.

“
How did you move up so fast?
”
Wex asks him when we calm down enough to hear each other.

“
A girl from PG3442 got demoted, rumor is she tried to eat the horses
’
carrots and sugar because her rations were cut by The Mothers. So my leader suggested they give me a shot. I started this afternoon.
”

Harc is radiant as she beams at Merit with unembarrassed pride. She clutches his hand in both of hers, perched on her knees, drinking in his every word. He flicks his eyes up to her face as he talks, reading her reactions. I lean back into Frehn and watch them together. I know nothing about love, nothing about passion for someone else. But twice in twenty-four hours, I have seen both.

When I return to my den after lunch the next day, I find Juwas standing in the middle of the room with copious amounts of plush fabrics draped over her arms.

“
Dress you,
”
Juwas says as I walk towards her.

“
Is this another suit, Juwas? I
’
ve only worn the new one once. I don
’
t think I
’
m ready for an upgrade.
”

“
Nuh,
”
she grunts back, holding up a flowing length of soft white velvet. The edge she displays to me has thousands of minute glass beads sewn in designs around the hem.
“
Bridging,
”
she says, pushing me towards the wardrobe area.

I take off my everyday clothes and she slips a long sky blue dress over my head. The left shoulder is cut away and the sleeves open at the tops of my arms, the fabric brushing the floor. It
’
s clearly been designed to leave each of my tattoos perfectly exposed. Juwas covers the blue dress with the white velvet cape trimmed in beads. She pins it shut with a ring clasp, her milk-white eyes pointed everywhere but at her hands.

“
Down, can
’
t reach,
”
Juwas rasps, holding out a hair brush. I kneel down just as I did months ago in my stiff silk robes, waiting for The Mother to collect me for the Oath of Service. Juwas pulls my hair down and brushes it, leaving it to fall around my face and down my back. In the mirror in front of me, I take in the white cape contrasting with my cascading black hair, like a bed of coal on snow, the length of velvet pooling behind me. My eyes rest on the ring clasp attached to the collar of the cape. An enameled hand with the palm facing up crosses the diameter of the silver circle. The fingers just curl over, gripping the opposite edge. A gold swirling leaf pattern is embedded in the circumference of the circle. Juwas finishes brushing my hair and runs her hands down it to be sure it
’
s smooth, then secures the black diamond pin over my left ear. That done, she starts to shuffle towards the door.

“
Thank you, Juwas,
”
I call after her.

She replies with an indiscernible noise as she leaves the den and Abbot enters. Abbot stops short, looking at me kneeling on the floor before the mirror. His eyes rest for a moment on my hair as a mournful expression rolls across his face.

“
They
’
re ready,
”
he says after he has cleared his throat. He holds a hand out to me and I take it, getting to my feet. He leads me through the Warren door and down the hall. We stop at a set of large arched doors I
’
ve passed countless times but never been through. Zink told me once they only opened to a meeting room.

“
Remember to breathe and don
’
t lock your knees,
”
Abbot says to me, then he raises his fist to bang on the door. It silently opens allowing us to enter, my white cape trailing behind like an icy waterfall.

The room is dimly lit with large candles on pillars outlining the aisle Abbot leads me down. Unspoken stand just out of their eerie light, bodies visible but faces hidden in dark shadow. I look towards the ceiling as we walk slowly through the candles and see a mass of woodwork beams, arching like a ribcage across the entire room. Abbot steps to the side when we reach the end of the aisle, leaving me in the center to face a moat of water surrounding a two-tiered dais. A bridge connects the floor of the room to the dais where three Unspoken stand in a triangle. They must be the Doyens- all of them have ink across their lined necks and faces.

“
I give you Keres,
”
Abbot says in a clear, obsequious voice that echoes off the concave ceiling. His voice, the reverent tone and his perfect posture make me more ill at ease than the crowd does, the eldritch candlelight or the triangle of wizened Doyens.

“
Does she come with will?
”
the Doyen in the center asks.

“
She does,
”
Abbot responds.

“
Does she come with knowledge?
”

“
She does.
”

“
Does she come with hope?
”

“
She does.
”

“
Let her cross.
”

Abbot puts his hands out and helps me across the bridge and then to kneel on the first tier of the dais.

“
Keres, you have walked across the bridge which spans the gap of knowledge. Walk with us now, across primordial rites of passage,
”
the Doyen says as she signals to someone standing just out of sight.

A woman steps towards me from the left of the Doyen triangle, holding a tray laden with pins, combs, and different-sized rods. She rests it before me and begins to run her fingers through my hair, arranging it, as the Doyen in the center continues.

“
We are the Tutelas, the keepers of Great Secrets. We desire only to protect the ancient knowledge of our ancestors. And though we are burdened with this great and terrible knowledge, we have control over but one thing. Ourselves. The abilities bestowed on our bodies is a gift, a curse, and a heavy responsibility. Our race is tied with an unbreakable cord to the duties of our charge. By protecting the Great Secrets, we ultimately protect the human race.
”
The Doyen in the center turns to the one on her left. He steps forward and places a large silver ring on my head and the woman arranging my hair begins to wrap curls and braids around it.

“
It is not our aim to seek power. It is not our goal to gain dominance. We remain underground, untouched and unspoken by those uninitiated. We live by two words- Secretum et Sacrificio.
”

“
Secretum et Sacrifico,
”
repeats the entire room of Unspoken in unison, their voices loud and teeming with passion.

“
Secrecy and Sacrifice,
”
the Doyen lifts her arms and a hundred candles flare up, flooding the room with light. The Doyen on the right steps forward and holds out two silver feet that look like they belonged to a huge bird-reptile crossbreed. The claws extended as if they are about to rip apart prey. He leans over me and fastens them to the ring, clamping it to my hair.

“
Keres, step into the light,
”
the Doyen beckons me to the center of the top tier of the dais. Abbot helps me stand again and walks forward with me, my hand gripped in his. As I turn to face the crowd of Unspoken- the crowd of Tutelas- the cape swirling around my feet, a beam of light creates a perfect circle of white on the dark floor, engulfing me and sending the rest of the dais into darkness.

“
And so begins the New World,
”
the Doyen says. All three of them step back so Abbot and I are the only people in the light. Abbot holds my hand high, then brings it to his lips. He kisses it while sliding a silver ring with a center line of golden leaves over my thumb, then swings my hand up over my head again. The crowd erupts into tumultuous applause. The noise is deafening, reverberating across the ribcage ceiling and echoing down the walls. When I look into the faces of the forty or fifty Tutelas, I read joy and pride and relief and- maybe hope? I wonder if Zink received the same treatment at his Bridging. Something isn
’
t right about the looks in their eyes. Some seem as if they are alive for the first time, others are swimming in anxiety. It doesn
’
t feel like a simple rite of passage ceremony anymore. It feels like a hero
’
s welcome. A savior
’
s greeting.

Abbot leads me out of the room, almighty cheers and deafening applause on either side of the aisle. The door shuts behind us, silencing everything. My face feels flushed with the rush of emotions and I put my hands to my cheeks. The silver ring is cold against my chin.

“
Come on, let
’
s get you off the Warren before the masses unleash and everyone wants a piece of you,
”
Abbot says. He has dropped the reverent attitude he held during the ceremony and is back in his rough manner as if nothing happened.

“
Is everyone
’
s like...
”
I ask him breathlessly as I try to keep pace with him. The weight of the dress and cape slow me down. I
’
ve become used to wearing suits with light or little material. This velvet feels like it is as heavy as I am.

“
That was a little, uh, embellished. And it
’
s not usual for the entire Warren to turn up at these.
”