Gates of Thread and Stone (18 page)

CHAPTER 26

WE CREPT INTO
Zora Hall through the back and entered a hallway. All the doors were identical except for the room numbers etched into the wood. I leaned closer to one, trailing my fingers against the woodwork. The curling lines had been carved with care.

“I don’t suppose Mason forgot to give us our room assignments,” Avan said. He dusted off his shirt, which sent a cloud of powdery dirt onto the gleaming floor. I looked down at myself. My clothes weren’t much better. Mason had suggested we clean off, but he hadn’t said how. Had he made it out safely?

“Hey!” someone said from behind us.

I jumped away from the door I’d been studying. A Watchman came up the hall, looking stern. I lowered my eyes, my pulse quickening. I hoped we just appeared lost.

“Lights-out was an hour ago.” Her nose wrinkled. “What were you two doing? Crawling through the sewers?”

“We’re a bit lost,” Avan said, giving his best “I’m harmless and pretty” smile.

The Watchman shifted her feet, flustered, but dutifully demanded to see our IDs.

“Ah!” she said as she studied them, and returned Avan’s smile—too enthusiastically. “I was told there would be late arrivals.” She removed a book from her pocket and began flipping through the pages. “Your rooms are on the second floor. Nel, 204. Savorn, 207. Go on now. Cadets have lights-out at sunset.”

We thanked her and headed for the stairwell. When she stared after Avan, I fell behind enough to block her line of sight.
Honestly, you’d think a Watchman would have better self-control.

Our rooms turned out to be a few doors apart, on opposite sides of the hall. Avan paused, then he said, “Guess this is it,” and disappeared into his room. With a fortifying breath, I walked into mine.

After I shut the door, I remained where I was, needing a minute to take in everything I was seeing. My room wasn’t much larger than the one in the hollows’ dorms; but the rug felt soft and full, and two sconces braced each of the walls, which were a soothing shade of butter yellow. The curtains were drawn on a window above my bed. I even had a real closet and my own washroom.

As incredible as the room was, I wanted to go out and search for Reev immediately. But I knew I couldn’t risk it. I’d have plenty of time tomorrow when they released us for the Tournament.

I sat on the narrow but thickly cushioned bed that extended from the wall, and gave an experimental bounce. It felt like sitting on clouds. Beside the bed, a sign had been adhered to the wall. The top of the sign displayed four names:
Nel – 204, Grene – 205, Tariza – 206, Savorn – 207
. My teammates. Irra had said the entire team needed a high collective score to continue on.

Beneath our names was a list of rules:

1. No intermingling between teams.

2. Cadets caught outside their dormitories after lights-out will be subject to disciplinary action and potential expulsion from the Tournament.

3. Training is restricted to dormitories and the training center during the hours of 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.

The list went on, but I skimmed down to the bottom where it announced that the first fights would begin in the morning an hour after breakfast.

Little pulses of anxiety shot through my skin. I had to remind myself that both Irra and Mason had been satisfied with my progress. I could do this. I couldn’t touch the threads for help, and yeah, Mason could make quick work of me; but he was a trained sentinel. In the end, I had managed a few hits against him, so I figured I would do better against a cadet. I just had to fit in. Winning didn’t matter.

I washed up, dawdling as I admired the shiny fixtures and the overall sense of cleanliness. Then I dimmed the sconces and climbed into bed.

Last night had been the first time in more than two weeks that I’d slept alone, but now, not having Avan here with me made all the unexpected comforts feel . . . cold. Did he feel the same or was he already asleep, grateful for the solitude of his own room and a proper bed instead of a mattress on the floor?

I yanked the blanket over my head and tried to convince myself it didn’t make any difference.

A loud knock and a booming voice in the hallway woke me. I pulled the pillow over my ears. I couldn’t identify the scent on the sheets, but I liked pushing my face into them and inhaling deeply. The smell reminded me of the courtyard: sunshine and warm breezes. Avan lying in the grass, close enough to touch.

“Good morning, cadets,” boomed the cheerful voice outside my room. I groaned. It had taken hours to fall asleep last night. “Welcome to the opening day of the Tournament. Breakfast will be served in the cafeteria in thirty minutes. Please see the schedule, updated hourly, in the common room to avoid any confusion or delays, which could result in mandatory forfeit.” The speaker grew alternately louder and softer as she paced up and down the hall. “Please read all rules and regulations. Violators will be subject to immediate disciplinary action. And remember, cadets, we are proud to be Ninurtans. Good luck!”

I rolled my eyes. Sitting up, I drew back the curtains on the window. I squinted against the light. I was looking down on a water fountain. Mosaic stones radiated in a pattern around the fountain, and despite the early hour, a few cadets were already outside milling about.

I kept the curtains open, and cleaned up. The washroom had a mirror, but I had been too busy studying everything else last night to pay much attention to my reflection. I was taken aback to see myself looking so . . . healthy. My cheeks had filled in, and the shadows beneath my eyes had faded. Although I was still too pale, I no longer looked on the verge of starving. I had Irra to thank for that. Another curious contradiction. Like the hollows’, Famine’s name barely captured who he was.

I leaned in closer and studied my eyes. I tried to find what Irra had seen: the River or whatever it was he had called the threads. But all I saw was a cool-blue iris around a dark pupil.

In the closet, I found a dozen identical outfits folded along two shelves. They consisted of form-fitting black tunics with green trim and dark-gray pants. Three sets of black boots were on the floor. At least it was all practical.

I changed, appreciating the tight but comfortable fit, and added a braided black belt I found in the dresser under the shelves.
Then
I drew the knife from my bag and slid it into my boot. We weren’t allowed to use weapons during our matches, but I wasn’t about to walk around the arena, bursting with Watchmen and likely a few sentinels, with only fists to protect myself.

Out in the hall, cadets dressed in the same style uniform as mine headed toward the staircase. I knocked at Avan’s door.

“He’s already gone down,” a boy said, pausing beside me. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Tariza. Are you Nel? I saw you come out of 204.”

I nodded and took his hand. He was short for a guy, only an inch or so taller than myself, but he made up for it in brawn. His upper body bulged beneath his tunic, stretched across his shoulders. I forced my face to remain neutral despite his crushing grip on my hand. I was glad I wouldn’t have to fight him.

He offered to walk down to the cafeteria together. Since he seemed to know where he was going, I let him lead.

“Got in late? You and Savorn weren’t at the opening ceremonies.”

“Last-minute paperwork.”

We passed through bright hallways with elegant metal sconces that ran the length of the wall. All around, cadets blew past us in their hurry to reach the cafeteria. Some of them looked to be about my age, although most were a few years older.

Two metal doors stood open at the entrance to a large cafeteria lined with polished wooden tables. It looked nothing like the mess hall in Etu Gahl, which had been dark and rustic but still cozy. If anything, the cafeteria resembled the one at school, only bigger and cleaner. Tall windows framed the Ninurtan emblem—the sword and scythe—embossed in silver and red on a plain white wall. Cadets lined up along another wall to retrieve their prefilled trays.

Each table had four seats, which probably meant they were assigned by team. I searched for Avan.

I spotted him sitting a few tables down with a blond girl. Tariza and I joined them.

Avan wore the same black-and-green uniform as everyone else, and he’d removed the steel bar in his eyebrow; but he still managed to stand out. And he’d already charmed Grene, judging by her helpless smile and flushed cheeks.

We made our introductions and went to retrieve our trays. Each meal held the same portions: A dollop of lumpy mash. Lentil soup. Steamed vegetables and a carton of milk. It was just like at school.

I didn’t really mind. Having a meal at all was enough for me.

“Did you guys see the brackets in the common room?” Grene asked when we returned to our table.

I shook my head, but Tariza said, “Yeah. Savorn is up first from our team.” He looked at me. “Nel, you’re at three.”

“Do you know who I’m fighting?” I asked, swirling my spoon through the soup.

“Didn’t recognize the name.”

“So where are you from?” Avan asked Tariza.

“Upper North District. My mom didn’t want me to join the Academy, but now that I’m up for the Tournament, my parents are trying to get permission to visit.” Tariza straightened, pride filling his already sturdy chest.

“What about you two?” Grene looked at me and Avan. “You seem like you know each other.”

We had prepared responses for these questions, so I let Avan answer.

“Lower North District,” Avan said. “We grew up in the same neighborhood.”

“The familiar face must be nice,” Tariza said, his eyes roaming the cafeteria. “And getting on the same team? What were the odds of that?”

“Yeah, do you guys have an uncle on the inside or something?” Grene asked, grinning with too much teeth. She talked with such enthusiasm that every word out of her mouth should’ve ended with an exclamation point.

“Just luck,” I said. I ate fast, without needing to taste the bland fare. Eating only enough to fuel my body was like second nature.

“Slow down there, Nel,” Tariza said, eyeing my tray. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

Heat filled my cheeks at the insinuation. Because Avan had told them we were from the lower North District, the worst section of the Alley, they would assume that we had been poor and underfed. And they were right, for the most part, but I still didn’t like his tone.

“Grene is from the South Quarter of the White Court,” Avan said. The South Quarter was where the Watchmen headquarters and the Academy were located. “She was telling me about how her aunt was a sentinel.”

Grene twirled her slender fingers through her blond hair as she ate. Even her smallest movements bounced with energy. Either she was nauseatingly upbeat or she was buzzing with nerves.

“She died on a mission to the Outlands a few years ago,” Grene boasted, in the same way that someone would announce she had won a trophy.

I had to wonder if she wasn’t dead at all but had joined Irra instead. Maybe we had eaten with her in the mess hall or danced with her at the party.

I hadn’t considered it before, but the disappearances worked both ways. Ninu kidnapped people such as Tera, the prostitute’s sister, while Irra could very well have taken Grene’s aunt. Either way, families were left broken.

“Ever since, my father has been betting on me becoming a sentinel. I completed the courses at the Academy with top scores.”

I wished I could tell whether or not she was
mahjo
. Magic must not manifest in every descendant if her aunt had been a sentinel but not her father or mother. And since neither of Avan’s parents had been taken for the Tournament, they didn’t have any
mahjo
blood, either, since I knew both of them had donated at the energy clinics.

“He insists he can’t live without the honor of having a sentinel in the family, even though it means never seeing me again,” Grene explained. She said it so airily that I couldn’t tell if she agreed with her father or not.

“What do you know about the sentinels?” I asked.

“Not much more than the rest of you,” she admitted. “But I like the secrecy. Makes them seem all mysterious or magical or something.”

Or suspicious. But Grene obviously hadn’t considered that.

I polished off my tray, while to my right, Avan ate slowly, forming his potato mash into a tall peak and then demolishing it.

“You okay?” I asked.

Avan gave me that lopsided smile that made my chest tighten. He didn’t try to manipulate me like he did Grene. This was genuine.

He looked at me and murmured, “Perfect.”

I held in my laughter.

“Nervous about your match?” Tariza asked Avan.

“Kind of.”

“You’ll do great,” I said, because I believed it. We had yet to see these cadets fight, but, like me, Avan had managed against a fully trained sentinel. And he healed fast. I didn’t need to worry about him, I told myself.

The others finished eating, and then Grene showed us to the prep room. All the cadets reported there first, where we would be called out to the arena. Observers to the matches were restricted to the judges and the participating cadets’ teams to avoid scouting out another cadet’s strengths and weaknesses. Personally, I was glad. I didn’t relish the idea of being scrutinized by strangers and potential opponents.