“Alex, do you have to override my indicator every time you call? How do you know I’m not in the middle of something?”
A moment of silence, then a hum.
Please, you’re never in the middle of anything, he teased. And I have to override your indicator so you won’t ignore me! Congratulations on your new number. Impressive progress, for so short a time.
I frowned. “It went back down again,” I groused, rolling over to my side.
Dips aren’t uncommon.
I sighed.
I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner, he continued. Things have been strained up here.
A burst of affection came over me, and I was suddenly glad he’d called. If this was going to be my last night as me, then I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it than chatting with my brother.
“What’s going on?”
A quiet noise.
I can’t really talk about it, he said.
“Alex,” I chided, softly.
Another pause, and I could almost see him. I missed his mannerisms; as irritating as they had been, I could almost imagine him doing them all in the space of the silence. Gnawing his lower lip. Scrunching up his nose to hold his glasses tighter. Combing his fingers through the front of his hair.
You can’t tell anyone.
“Of course.”
I’m serious, Liana.
I looked at the pills on the table. I wasn’t about to rat Grey out, and I barely knew him. Alex was my twin. Not to mention, if he was even willing to bring it up, it meant he needed to talk about it. Better me than someone who would turn him in.
“I swear I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.”
I heard a noise and smiled when I realized that Alex was drumming his fingers on his desk.
It’s Scipio, he said.
That got my attention. Alex had transferred to the Eyes specifically because he wanted to work with Scipio. The great machine had always fascinated my brother, drawn him in like sweets would any other child.
“What’s wrong with Scipio?” I asked—cautiously, though my mind was ablaze. Of course something was wrong with Scipio—what else could explain people like Grey and I trying and trying and trying but never going anywhere but down? Of course, if Alex was just figuring this out now, we needed to have a long talk about his observational skills.
I don’t know what’s wrong. Not exactly, anyway, he said. I think… I think Scipio’s losing it a little.
A chill ran down my spine at the edge of anxiety in his voice. “Losing it?”
He’s getting more extreme, Alex said, and his words were quieter now, as if he was speaking in a jumbled whisper. More violent. He’s using the Knights more viciously, and punishing low numbers more aggressively.
I swallowed, thinking about Roark and his claims. “Punishing them how?”
Alex began to talk, then cut off. I heard a set of footsteps moving by.
People have died, Lily, he said.
“What do you mean, people have died?” I asked. “Alex… have you heard something about the Knights?”
Silence met my question, and I waited, heart in my throat. I almost gave up waiting for an answer, but after a moment I heard a soft breath, followed by his voice.
I don’t know. All I know is that it is a good thing you got your number up.
I frowned. “Alex, when was the last time you checked it? Because it isn’t the best right now.”
I’m looking at it now, he said, sounding confused.
“Well, then I’m glad you’re impressed with my three, but—”
Have you checked it? Alex asked, bemused.
I looked down at my wrist, expecting to see red. Instead, I saw blue. A blue so cool and calm that I had a hard time reading the number there. My wrist hadn’t ever looked like that.
Sitting primly at the base of my hand was a glowing nine.
I don’t think you have anything to worry about with a nine, Alex was saying. I’m genuinely unsure what they gave you to spike you that fast, but it does make me feel better. I gotta go, but I’ll check in soon. Tell the folks I said hi, all right?”
“Wait, Alex. I want to know more about Scipio,” I said hurriedly, but he didn’t respond, and I could tell by the now inactive net that the call was over. I exhaled and looked back at my wrist. Still a nine—certain, still, and confident.
I lowered my arm and considered my own feelings. Did I feel any different? Was I feeling the urge to do anything differently?
A quick assessment revealed two things. Number one, other than the shock of seeing a nine on my wrist, I felt relatively normal. A little excited, but ultimately, I still felt like me.
Number two, the only urge I had was to go down and use my ration cards to get some fry-bread and see if I couldn’t scrounge up some berries. Which was pretty normal, for me. Not that I was going to follow through on that urge, either. Going outside now with a nine on my wrist was just as dangerous as the three; I worried people would notice incongruities with my behavior compared with that of other nines or tens. I had to be careful not to reveal anything to anyone, and keep my emotions hidden as much as possible.
Grey’s pill had worked, and just in time too. With Scipio malfunctioning somehow, I could’ve sunk to a two and gotten booted from the Citadel before it got fixed.
But that didn’t stop it from happening to other people.
That thought haunted me for several hours after that, and it took a long time to go to sleep, the nine suddenly feeling heavy on my wrist.
12
“I don’t know how this is possible.”
My father sat opposite me at our dining room table, his eyes flat with shock, his hands playing excitedly across the tabletop. My mother was next to him, a broad smile splitting her features.
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Neither do I,” I blatantly lied. I looked down at my wrist, and the nine smiled back, bright and cheery. “It was just like this when I got back from my walk.”
It was morning, and I had spent the better part of the night trying to decide how to explain the significant increase. Luckily, the last time they saw me I was a five, not a three—but rising four ranks overnight wasn’t normal. I considered concocting a tale of heroism, but that seemed a little far-fetched, and was too easy to disprove. My next thought was that I could tell them I went on a spiritual quest and came out understanding my place in service to Scipio, but the thought was so nauseating, I immediately dismissed it. There was no way I could be convincing in the retelling, so it was better to pass.
In the end, I decided to opt for something as close to honesty as I could manage: I took my pills, met with Zoe, came home, and boom, nine status.
“Anyway, I really need to get going,” I said, glancing toward the door. “I have my apprenticeship.”
My mother shot to her feet, dragging my father up with her. I canted my head toward her, alarmed by the intensity on her face, the wide-eyed panic on it.
She gave me an incredulous look as she saw me staring up at her, and frowned. “Liana, you’re going to be late!” she exclaimed. “We don’t want your number dropping, so the best thing to do is to keep doing what you’ve been doing. Now get up and get to class, dear.”
I barely had a chance to grab my things before she literally pushed me out the door. I stood there, blinking in the hallway, confused by the sheer enthusiasm still seeming to radiate out from our quarters. Was this what it felt like to be loved, like I’d always wanted to be? Was this what it felt like to be accepted?
Not at all a bad feeling, if I did say so myself.
I turned and began walking, my mind automatically drifting to Grey and the pills. He’d given me enough for a month—I’d counted—but who else were they making this for? It was illegal, that much was certain, yet it was giving me a second chance at life in the Tower.
It could be dangerous. By taking these pills, I was putting myself and possibly my friends and family at risk. And Grey was running around ou
t there, someone who knew what I was doing. If he was compromised… I wasn’t sure I could count on him not to turn on me. Or vice versa.
Grey’s story about Roark and his wife flashed across my mind, and I felt the dull burn of anger, but a greater sense of disorientation, the thought leading me to my brother’s words last night. Something’s wrong with Scipio.
My feet paused in their stride, and I brought myself to a slow stop, trying to calm the sense of foreboding settling over my bones. I was being paranoid. I was stressed about what I was doing with Grey’s pills, and Alex’s comments were just adding to an overactive imagination that tended to focus on impending doom rather than looking on the bright side.
And there was a bright side—I was a nine.
I just wished I knew what that meant for the future.
The apprenticeship annex held its usual smattering of bored young adults when I arrived. Unlike before, however, they did not part when I approached. Instead, they waved or offered a smile as I slid by. It took me a minute to find Zoe and Eric standing in a corner, Zoe gesticulating wildly as she spoke.
The pair of them looked up as I drew near, Zoe’s smile fading as she gave me an apprehensive look. I knew she was worried about my number, and wondering what had happened after she’d left. I gave her a nervous smile as I walked up.
“Hey, Liana,” Eric said cautiously, his eyes flicking over to Zoe. “I heard you were feeling more… like yourself?”
His face screwed up at the end of his statement, a mixture of awkwardness and naiveté that brought an amused smile to my lips.
“I am,” I said. “Very much so.”
Zoe stepped forward, tilting her head to try to get a look at my number, and I caught myself moving to cover it. I had to be careful not to do that now; nines wouldn’t try to hide. They had nothing to be ashamed of.
“A nine!” she exclaimed, her eyebrows rising, and Eric whistled, a low, impressed sound. Zoe’s eyes met mine, quizzical, and I could hear her unspoken question: Did Grey help you?
I hesitated and gave an imperceptible shrug. I felt bad for lying, playing dumb, but with the nebulous nature of my relationship with Grey, and the origin of the pills, it wasn’t worth the risk of telling her. She was a six, and I knew she’d never betray me, but she had been exposed to way too much already. It could be dangerous for her to learn more.
“A nine and the side effects wearing off? That’s seriously impressive.”
“Thanks,” I said with a smile, but I felt the urge to fidget under their scrutiny.
“How’d it happen?” Eric asked, and I sucked in a deep breath, the lie I’d told my parents slipping out more easily this time.
“I’m not really sure,” I replied. “It happened after I met with Zoe. I dropped down to a three, and then it was a nine.”
“No miraculous realizations?” Zoe asked. “No heroic deeds?”
“Nope. Maybe Scipio’s finally getting my sense of humor?”
Zoe frowned, but seemed willing to drop the subject for the time being, probably just as unwilling as I was to bring it up in front of Eric. I knew there’d be hell to pay later for withholding information, and I would have to tread very lightly, but for the time being I was safe from any other interrogations.
“Does that mean I won’t get any lectures about why I shouldn’t fraternize with dangerous lower numbers like Zoe again?”
“Scipio’s grace, no,” I said. “Please, fraternize with the low numbers until I’m forced to arrest you.”
Eric grinned. “It’s good to have you back properly. Those drugs did a number on you.”
“They really did,” Zoe agreed, as if she hadn’t known already, and I realized she hadn’t told Eric about our escapade yesterday. She held my gaze, her eyes sharp. “So who’s up for Phineas, week two?”
I frowned, racking my brain for a memory of who Phineas was. It took me a few seconds to remember the class right before the Medica, and our lesson in Callivax, the hand language of the Divers.
“Is he still teaching us?” I asked, confused. “I thought he was only supposed to be here for a few days.”
“He extended,” Eric patiently replied.
“Great,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Now I’m behind in a class I’ve been attending for the past week.”
“Don’t worry—the class has really become a spectator sport. Now we all just watch the showdown between Zoe and Phineas. She has a nasty habit of correcting him.”
The look Zoe gave us was one of pure smugness. “I’ll stop when he stops giving out the wrong information.”
I shared a conspiratorial smile with Eric. “Of course you will,” I drawled sarcastically, and Eric chuckled as we began to move toward the classroom.
Phineas was already inside, a series of shiny tools and equipment strewn all over the long table at the front of the hall. He glanced at the three of us as we entered, and then looked back down at one of the pieces he was fiddling with.
“Ah, Eric, I see you are still associating with Zoe and Liana. I assume Liana’s number is still holding steady at a six?”
“Actually, no,” Eric replied, grinning at me approvingly. “Liana is now a nine.”
Phineas looked up at me, brow and scalp wrinkling in surprise. His eyes darted down to my wrist, and then back up to my face. “Extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “To rise so far, so fast? Tell me, did you take some time to learn of the Water Ways?”
I hesitated, and then shook my head. “Not that I can recall, sir. I went to the Medica and they gave me some medication. I’m afraid it’s affected my memory some; I can’t seem to remember the past few classes we’ve had together.”
Phineas looked disappointed, but then grinned broadly. “No matter. It is good to see your treatment is so effective. Your story could inspire other lost souls like you. You really should come to a service.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, very uncomfortable. He nodded, and I used that opportunity to excuse myself, hurrying over to some open seats toward the back of the room and dropping into one. Zoe arranged herself in the seat to my right, while Eric dropped down on the left.
“Well that was awkward,” I said, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Zo?”
“Don’t look at me—my mom’s the religious one in the family. I always found the Water Ways too… mystical for my tastes.”
I chuckled, and we fell into a companionable silence as a few more students straggled in. Soon, Phineas started the class. First we reviewed a few of the more important signals for Callivax—mostly directions and warning signals—and then went over a few of the symbols for identifying a water treatment pod’s function within the Tower.
“Hot and cold running water is marked by color,” Eric recited, as if from rote memory. “Blue for cold and red for hot.”
“Very good,” Phineas replied. “And who knows what the hot water is for?”
“Creating steam for condensation in the greeneries,” one of the Medica students said tentatively.
“And helping heat the forges in fabrication down in Cogstown,” Zoe added lazily.
“Correct. It’s imperative you pay attention to these functions. Hot water will always be in glass pipes, as our glass-fabrication process can withstand the heat coming off the water. Now, can anyone tell me why they are hot?”
“It’s part of the purification process for cleaning it,” a Cog boy with wild orange hair said. “There’s a lot of radiation still in the water, and heating it is just one of the many steps for cleaning it.”
“Very good. Now, who can tell me—”
“Excuse me, Master Diver.”
Gerome’s deep voice was familiar, but when you weren’t expecting it, it really sent a shiver down your spine. I felt myself go straight as a post, and turned to see Gerome standing there. How on earth had he just appeared like that?
“Knight Commander,” Phineas said, offering a little bow. “I was just going over safety protocols. Is there a problem?”
> “Liana has no need of more than basic Water Treatment training,” Gerome announced firmly, and I frowned. “She intends to become a Knight. Don’t you, Liana?”
“Uh, yes,” I stammered. “But I’m not certain I should miss—”
“You’re required in the Citadel, Liana,” Gerome said, fixing me with a pointed look. “Immediately.”
A chill ran down my spine as the room got quiet. I sat there for a moment, but then stood up. Zoe gave me an alarmed expression, and I knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing I was thinking: I’d gotten caught.
“You can get notes from one of your friends, Liana,” Phineas said congenially. “And I will see you next class.”
Somehow my legs propelled me forward toward Gerome, who was now opening the door to allow me access to the hall. I stepped past him and came to a halt on the large platform, looking up at the Citadel hanging over four hundred feet away. My heart began to pound.
How could they have found out so soon? Had my number been flagged for rising too quickly? What if they had found out about the pill? What was going to happen to me?
At that moment I felt very much like I was in freefall, with the added spike of fear and adrenaline that came from missing a lash connection. Only this time, I wasn’t sure there was a lash hold within distance that could save me.
“Squire?”
I blinked up at Gerome, who was looking down at me, and realized he was waiting for me.
“Sir?” I said, coming around to face him at attention. It was more habit than anything, but it was ingrained, something familiar, and it helped keep the growing fear at bay. Not by much, but it helped.
Gerome studied my face, his expression thoughtful. “You look a little pale, Squire. Are you unwell?”
“No,” I said, and then belatedly realized I could’ve lied. Clenching my teeth together to prevent a curse from slipping out, I quickly scrambled, looking for something to explain my paleness that didn’t rhyme with “terrified beyond belief that you caught me doing something potentially (definitely) illegal,” and managed to fabricate one from seemingly nowhere.