Robinson Crusoe 2244 (4 page)

“And that will make you, what? Exempt from trouble?”

Robinson shrugged. “If not trouble, at least the lash.”

For the first time, Robinson saw not contempt in his teacher’s eyes, but pity. “Oh, dear boy. If only that were true.”

Outside, Tessa was waiting. She was dressed in white with sleeves of lace. Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders in curls as she ran to him.

“Robinson!” she cried, gently taking his hands. “Is it true?
Six lashes
?”

“I guess good news really does travel fast.”

“Don’t be flippant! The man is a menace! Really, something must be done.”

“Like what?” he asked. “He spoke of my mother and I got upset. I played right into their hands.”

“‘Their?’ Who—?” And then she saw it on his face. “Not Jaras.” She cursed. “I swear, my brother’s cruelty knows no bounds.”

“We can’t really blame him, can we? After all, I have stolen his sister’s hand.”

She offered a faint smile. “You’ve stolen much more than that.”

Then she looked down at his arms and her smile disappeared. “He can’t be allowed to get away with this.”

“He can and he will. He has never liked me. I don’t know why. The point is moot anyway. School is over. I’ll never have to face him again.”

Her anger dissipated and she kissed his forearms gently. The bruising was garish, but she didn’t care. Among all the male children of Tiers, there were more handsome, more politically inclined. But she had chosen him. They kissed.

“Kissing a
Muckback
, Tessa?”

They spun to see Jaras and his friends approaching. “And in public no less. Have you no shame?”

“I don’t like that word, Jaras. And he is a son of Tiers, just like you and me.”

“He’s nothing like you and me. He makes friends of Muckbacks, sneaks around the city like one, and now he’s soiling you with his very presence.”

Robinson took her by the hand. “We should go.”

“Go? But the fun is just beginning.” Jaras’s hand shot out and latched onto his forearm. Robinson couldn’t help but squeal with pain. Tessa tried to peel her brother’s grip away, but he was too strong. He was laughing when a voice behind them sounded.

“Problem?”

Everyone turned to see Slink approaching. When he stepped right up to Jaras’s face, the smaller teen leaned back, but he didn’t retreat. “We’re sons of Tiers,
Muckback
. One strike against us and you’ll be walking the Road before a turn is up.”

Tessa pushed her way in between them. “And one strike against either of them and I’ll tell father. And then we’ll see who’ll be walking the Road.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Jaras was considering his next move when a Taskmaster happened by. He smiled and waited until he was gone.

“I’m so sick of you, Crusoe. Sick of your face. Sick of your family. Sick of your name. Stay away from my sister or else.”

“Or else what?” Robinson asked.

“Or else the real fun will begin.”

His fellow sycophants laughed and followed Jaras as he turned and strode away.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa said. “I don’t know what gets into him. He’s never like this at home.”

“Are you all right?” Slink asked.

Robinson looked at Tessa, who cozied up next to him. “Never better.”

Slink grinned. “Well, there’s nothing less attractive than an oversized third wheel, so—”

But before he finished, the Second Spire’s bell tolled. Tessa’s brow furrowed, as she was first to grasp the sequencing of tolls.

“We need to find a Feed,” she said.

“Why?” Robinson asked, turning to Slink. “Is that a Wall alarm?”

“No,” he answered gravely. “It’s a toll of Expiry. Someone is about to be executed.”

The inner-quad was so packed with students that it was impossible for the trio to get a glimpse of a Feed monitor. The message was clear however. Someone had been found guilty of treasonous acts and a sentence of Expiry was to be exercised immediately in the Crown Square.

The queue for carriages leaving the school was long, so Slink led the others on a serpentine jot that spilled out at the eastern end of the Clutch, near the Crown itself.

A sizeable crowd had already amassed with Tiers taking position outside the stores while ordinary citizens filled the streets. Renarch Uth, who had designed Tessa’s spring wardrobe, frowned when he saw Slink but knew better than to speak up while his friends were present. His apprentice even ushered over water, unbidden.

It wasn’t long before the Second Spire bell tolled and a contingent of Red Guard took positions in front of the crowd. Over the open Crown Gates, the Feed display flickered to life. All eight Regens would be watching.

Public sentencing was a bizarre affair. It was one of the few occasions when the Tiers and the underclass took in anything side-by-side. But everyone was there, infusing the air with a perverse sense of excitement. The scene brought to mind a memory of when Robinson was a small child sitting on his father’s shoulders, jeering with the crowd as a condemned matron accused of theft was marched down the Red Road before him. He remembered his mother pulling him to the ground and scolding him. He hadn’t understood the harsh look in her eyes that day. Now that he was older, he realized it had been disgust.

The massive swath of bodies kicked up dust as citizens craned their heads. Robinson scanned the faces across the street until he spotted his father huddled in a darkened alcove, talking furtively with Tier Fallow and Tier Cork.

“Tessa, have you heard something about a campaign?”

Her nose crinkled oddly. “No. What is it?”

He shrugged and then deflected. “Something one of the Nobes at school mentioned, but I only caught the word in passing.”

“You don’t remember who?” she asked offhandedly.

He shook his head, though it troubled him to lie. Not that it mattered. When the bells tolled for the third time, she grabbed his arm and said, “Here they come.”

Through the Crown Gates, a battalion of Iron Fists emerged. The Iron Fists were the Regent’s elite guard, kept for his personal security and for battling renders. They wore bulkier uniforms with iron plating covering their shoulders and torsos. The iron gauntlets they wore gave them their moniker. It was said one strike with an Iron Fist could crush a man’s skull with ease.

Once they were in position, the Crown officials followed, led by Tier Vardan Saah, Tessa’s father. Her chest swelled with pride as he strode forward in his crisp, navy uniform with a narrow line of red running down one side. His clipped, dark hair sat comfortably above a high collar. He wore no facial hair but had deep-set eyes that always drew people’s attention. Accompanying him was Brapo Liesel, a towering figure rumored to be the city’s executioner and the personal tracker of any who fled over the Wall.

At last, the Regent appeared, adorned in navy and gold, his halo of silver hair shining like a crown. To the people, he raised a single hand of One and Four. The crowd immediately returned the gesture. The Feed cut to a microphone raised toward him. His eyes, filled with both sorrow and resolution, perused the crowd until the din had settled.

“Let the condemned stand forth before us.”

From the gates, two Iron Fists led the hooded perpetrator in chains. The crowd jeered so loudly that he actually tripped and had to be dragged the rest of the way. The Regent held up his hand, silencing the crowd once more. Then he nodded to Tier Saah, who made his way to the dais.

“Before you stands a man,” Tier Saah spoke, his voice smooth like cream, “faceless. Unknown. Born of flesh and blood—like all of us—and imbued with the power of choice and free will. But unlike you and I, who serve the One, this man serves himself. Would you see this man for who he is? For
what
he has become?”

The crowd answered in unison as bodies pressed forward. Bloodlust was thick in the air. Even Robinson found himself gripping the railing as Tier Saah called for the prisoner’s hood to be removed.

The crowd gasped. The condemned man’s head hung low, his ruffled hair covering his face. As the prisoner’s name sped through the mob, the furor escalated until it was deafening. Finally, he looked up. Robinson inhaled.

“Who is it?” Tessa asked.

Robinson shook with disbelief. “Byron Frostmore. They’re executing a Tier.”

Tessa and Slink were equally stunned. A Tier hadn’t been executed since well before the teens were born.

“What could he have done?” Tessa asked.

Robinson shrugged but didn’t dare look at her for fear she’d see the doubt building in his heart. The man was being tried for treason. And yet that very morning, he’d taken a secret meeting with his father and the others. Were they also involved? Would that explain his father’s angry outburst? If so, they were all in jeopardy.

Exile and Expiry.

These were the two punishments any citizen faced. To be Exiled was to be banished beyond the Wall, left to the horrors of renders and the wild things of the world. Death was certain, but the means were unknown.

Expiry wasn’t nearly as vague.

A rush of people swarmed forward and tore Tier Frostmore from the stage. His clothes were ripped from his body and he was dragged into the street. The mob spit and threw things as he passed. Already the heavy chains bit into his legs, drawing blood that stained the road red, which was how it had earned its name. Through it all, the entire spectacle was broadcast with remarkable clarity on the Feed overhead.

Tessa turned, tears in her eyes. They both knew the journey that awaited Tier Frostmore. It was a long, hard slough through the Clutch and Communal Fields, and all the way to the Western Gate. Only there would the crowd be held back as the Iron Fists dragged him to the cliffs that overlooked the sea. Would he leap of his own accord? Or would he tarry out of fear or pride and force the gauntlets to end it for him?

“I have to go see my father,” Tessa said unexpectedly.

To their right, the Regent and his guard left the stage, but Tier Saah remained. Robinson could see by his demeanor that the scene affected him too. He’d always heard disturbing things about the Tier of Obedience, but now he was unsure what to believe. In the space of half a day, so many things had happened.

Robinson reached for Tessa’s hand. “Go on. Put this from your mind. Tomorrow we become apprentices. Tomorrow we’ll be Named. After that, nothing can keep us apart.”

“I can’t wait,” she said before quickly kissing him on the mouth and dashing away. He watched her until her golden locks disappeared among the crowd.

“You knew him,” Slink said suddenly. Robinson didn’t have to ask who
him
was.

“Not really. But he was one of us. The idea that this could happen so quickly …”

“I’ll walk you to the Shelf.”

“You can’t look after me forever, Slink. One of these days, I’m going to have to learn to take care of myself.”

Slink chuckled. “There’s a terrifying thought. Stick to the streets. Most of the mob is gone or sated, but you don’t want to test them when their blood is up.”

Slink clouted his friend on the shoulder and left.

After he was gone, Robinson looked back to the stage and felt that cold chill crawling up his spine. Vareen was right. A change was coming. Slink seemed to have felt it too. Had he known the enormity of what was in front of him, he might have done things differently. But fate had other ideas in store.

Robinson took one last gulp of his water and then turned to go. For some unknown reason, he paused to look back over his shoulder. Most of the Tiers had cleared out of the Clutch but one had remained. It was his father, and he was watching him.

Robinson was relieved to learn that Vareen had not let the children watch the broadcast, but they hadn’t missed the news of their older brother’s punishment.

“Six lashes!” Tannis exclaimed. “That has to be a record!”

“You’re famous!” Tallis said and everyone laughed. They asked how much it hurt, but Robinson fibbed and told them “not much.” Afterward, they played Over the Wall, Under the Wall, their favorite game.