The Gender Game (16 page)

T
he next morning
, I washed and changed into pants and a shirt and opted to wear my flat shoes again, since I'd likely be doing a lot of walking.

I couldn't deny that the idea of spending hours with Viggo was daunting. I didn't know what we'd talk about. I imagined us spending time in awkward silence. But that wasn't how it was supposed to go. I needed to try to make him warm to me. To even become his friend, if that was possible. Viggo seemed to guard himself against everyone, a friend only to himself. But there had been that handshake. That little crack in his exterior I might just be able to widen.

Lee and I made our way through rush hour and into the city. We passed the lab and he drove me to a tall gray building with a pointed roof near Crescent River. This was the wardens' head office, apparently. I didn't get to see much of it though, before Viggo appeared, waiting for us.

"Thanks again," Lee said, reaching for the small of my back and pushing me closer to Viggo. "You have my number, right? Just let me know if you decide to drop Violet back at lunchtime, or if she'll stay with you until the end of the day. See how it goes."

Viggo nodded.

"See you, then," Lee said before returning to his motorbike and riding away.

Viggo and I stared at each other.

"So, uh…" He nodded up the road, to our right. "My transport's that way."

My mouth dry, I followed him up the busy road to where he'd left his motorcycle. He had me sit on the seat first, and I was relieved to feel my fingers curve around a metal bar at the base of the seat, meaning I didn't have to clutch Viggo for dear life as we roared into the road.

We wound our way deeper into the center of town—not far away from the alleyway where I'd bumped into him the other night—and he parked on a street lined with shops.

"This way," he muttered, jerking his head further up the road.

He stalked forward, and I hurried to match his pace. After allowing the two of us a couple of minutes of silence, I asked, "So what does your day actually consist of as a warden?" I was genuinely curious. I wondered what the similarities were between the jobs of wardens here and in Matrus.

Viggo's eyes remained straight ahead of us. "Various things," he said vaguely. "During the daytime, there aren't usually a lot of incidents. It's on night shifts when things tend to get more… disordered."

"Disordered in what way?" I asked him.

"This city is at a junction with the mountains. There's a whole mix of guys who pass through, many of them of the opinion that they are above rules. We watch mostly for thieves, illegal substance dealers, traffickers, and of course… potential strays." Here, he glanced my way.

"What do you do with 'strays' if you find them?" I asked.

"It's our job to keep them off the streets," he said, turning a corner. "Those we find are taken to Gerter House—a shelter on the other side of town—before reintegration is attempted. Having them roaming the city merely makes it a target for the exact kind of men we work to keep out."

"Which are…?"

"The dregs from Porteque, basically." He seemed to sense my questioning stare as he added, "A spread of towns in the mountains, further west."

"Oh."
Gerter House.
I hadn't known they had an official shelter for women. I guessed they had to put them somewhere though, especially if Matrus didn’t accept them—the Patrus-born females. "What causes women to become strays in the first place?"

"They're mostly runaways."

"And how are they reintegrated?" I ventured. I was aware that we were skirting a sensitive topic.

He paused as we approached a road. He looked left and right before herding me across it to the other side. "The first step is to find out where they came from, who their guardian is. Once that's discovered, a team identifies the reason for their wandering. If they ran away like most, they're returned with a cautionary warning. If the issue is more complex, like abandonment, then… well, some women grow old in Gerter House," he finished with a grim clench of his jaw.

That was depressing.

We lapsed into silence as we continued Viggo's route through the city. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's as he glanced around. I noticed the way others responded to his gaze, quickly averting their attention and continuing about their business. Though many of them lingered on me a little longer. Maybe they thought I was a stray who'd been caught.

With Viggo's popularity in fights at night, and his constant appearance around the city during the day, I imagined he was kind of a celebrity here in Patrus. As childish as it was, it made me feel kind of special to be walking with him.

"What made you want to be a warden?" I asked.

"It matched my skillset," he replied shortly.

He was probably wishing I didn't talk this much.

"Like I told you, I fancied myself as a warden back in Matrus," I went on regardless. "Even sneaked to a few defense lessons when I was younger, and when I had the time. Just never got the opportunity to follow through on the dream."

"I've never set foot in Matrus," he replied, "but in Patrus, the novelty soon wears off."

"Why's that?" I asked, recalling Lee's story that Viggo had retired from the force even before his wife had been sentenced.

"It's called life," he replied dryly. "Things lose their shine when you get too close to them."

I sensed there was a deeper resentment over his work as a warden than he was letting on. But I let it go.

"So… you've never visited Matrus, not even once?" I asked.

"The furthest I've ever gotten is its dock."

"And you've never been curious to visit?"

"No."

I blew out. "So… you're working a job you don't like. You apparently live by yourself in the mountains… What's your game plan?" I asked.

"Game plan?"

"What are you working for? What gets you out of bed in the morning?"

"I have obligations," he replied curtly.

"Do you have any family?"

He shook his head. "None to speak of."

"I guess I wonder what motivates you to take on extra work," I dared say. "My husband told me you're also a fighter."

He grimaced. "If you must know, I'm not getting paid for my time as a warden, nor will I for the next two and a half years. I earn my money through fights. As for my 'game plan', once the years are up I plan to buy a larger patch of land, further away from the city."

He was obviously expecting me to ask next why he was acting as a warden without pay. I avoided the subject, since that was too close to his wife for comfort, and I already knew the answer.

"Why do you want to live so far away from everyone?" I asked.

"I just do."

His answers were becoming increasingly short, so I figured I'd give him a break from questions. I didn't want to annoy him too much.

I realized we were nearing the street where I had come to get my hair and nails done, and gone shopping with Lee—the street consisting entirely of women's shops.

As we passed the hairdresser, Viggo asked me a question of his own. "Do you regret coming to Patrus?"

I was surprised not only that he'd asked a question, but also by the directness of it.

"No," I lied. "I mean, it's been difficult leaving behind my old life and entering one so very new, but I don't regret it. It was the only way I could be with Lee."

He went quiet for a few moments before remarking, "You don't strike me as a girl who'd be happy here long-term. It's pretty easy to spot the ones who'll last and those who won't… For women, curiosity isn't a quality that's rewarded here."

"Yes, I know…"

"Hey, Viggo!" a voice chimed from across the road.

Two men were standing there, wardens in long coats and heavy boots. I found it interesting that, although all wardens in Patrus wore a similar style of clothing, there appeared to be no official uniform. Perhaps they used that to their advantage; they could sneak up on unsuspecting suspects more easily.

The men crossed the street and approached us, their eyes glued to me.

"Who's this?" the blond man asked.

"Mr. Bertrand's new wife," Viggo replied. "I've been appointed as her temporary guardian."

They looked rather confused as to how that could have come about, but they didn't ask further questions. One of them retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Viggo.

"Back gate of the lab's code has changed again. Here it is."

Viggo nodded in appreciation.

Then the men parted ways with us, continuing down the road in the opposite direction.

"So do you roam the streets all day?" I asked. "Don't you get tired?"

"No to both questions," he muttered.

"Then?" I cocked my head to one side.

"In about ten minutes, I have an appointment with the owner of an arms store, one of the largest in the city. There was an attempted break-in yesterday—while the store was closed. Nothing was stolen, but I need to examine the site, as well as discuss precautionary methods to put in place to keep it from happening again."

Attempted break-in at an arms store, earlier yesterday.

I wondered, could that have been Lee? The reason for his delay in picking me up from the gym? He'd seemed pretty tense.

"Is there a lot of theft around here?" I asked.

"No," Viggo replied. "The state's punishments are severe. We're talking about dismembered limbs, or in some cases, hanging."

In Matrus, criminals were treated differently—at least, the women were. If a female committed a serious crime, even so far as murdering someone, she was given a second chance. A thorough period in detention facilities, to see if she was capable of and willing to redeem herself. Matrus' men, on the other hand, were not treated with such leniency. If they murdered or plundered, it was immediate euthanasia. Indeed, from a male's very birth they were subject to close scrutiny. They were regularly monitored in their early years for traits that went against Matrus' culture—a domineering temperament, with a strong inclination toward violence and aggression—and between the ages of eight and ten, they were put through the ultimate test to decide whether they were fit to reside in Matrus. The screening employed a combination of genetics and psychology to determine which boys would be forced to leave Matrus and flown off to the mines in the north.

I didn't know what went on during the tests or how exactly they worked. They were usually conducted in the lab near the queen's palace and the details weren't public knowledge.

All I knew was that my brother had come out shaking, and bearing the mark of a black crescent on his right hand. His virtues had been deemed too close to those of Patrus. And of course, the queen and her council didn't want boys like him piling into Patrus. It wasn't in Matrus' interest to help increase their neighbor's population of strong-willed men.

"There isn't much theft in Matrus, either," I told Viggo. "More serious crimes are also rare… Do you know about its justice system?"

Viggo scowled. "'Justice' hardly seems the right word."

I bit my lip. I couldn't exactly argue with that.

"But yes, I'm aware of the ins and outs," he added. "Euthanasia versus hanging, corrective detention for females, jail for males, pseudoscientific screenings, murdering pre-pubescent boys, etcetera, etcetera."

I stalled, my hand shooting to Viggo's arm. "
Murdering?"
I breathed, gripping him hard. "Where did you hear that?"

Viggo rolled his eyes. "Come on, what do you think they do with all those boys? You really believe they're carted off to mines? Do you have any idea how large and organized they'd have to be to contain the increasing number of males, year after year?"

He shrugged me off and continued walking. It felt like a steel ball had materialized in the pit of my stomach.

I dragged my feet forward to keep up with him.

"Do you have any evidence?" I choked. "Any evidence at all? Or is it only a suspicion?"

Viggo was eyeing me curiously now, apparently not prepared for or expecting such a strong reaction from me. "It's a suspicion," he admitted. "Of course, I have never traveled to the Deep North to verify whether the boys are actually there. I don't have access to an illegal aircraft, nor would I have reason or permission to fly there in a legal one."

I let out a breath. I'd truly feared for a moment that Viggo might have evidence. But that would make no sense. Queen Rina had promised me a reunion with my brother. Would she really have lied about that? I didn't want to consider that question. I couldn't start thinking that my brother might be dead. Not after my hopes had been raised sky-high about seeing him again in a matter of weeks. He was alive, in the mines in the North. Just as the queen and the Court said he was.

And yet a niggling doubt still managed to worm its way into my brain. Viggo's words had struck too close to home. On more than one occasion in the past, I, too, had wondered if Matrus could be lying about the boys' destination. The fear had plagued me on and off over the years, but I'd always tried to bury it. After all, how would any of us verify it? All we had to go on was the word of the Court because the only safe way to travel the depths of The Green in order to even have a hope of reaching the elusive North was by aircraft, and flying was illegal for all except the Court.

"What do you think Patrus would do if they had evidence of what you suspect is happening to some of Matrus' boys?" I managed.

Viggo shrugged, his eyes forward again as we turned down another road. "I don't know," he muttered. "Everyone is still trying to understand the mind of our new king… But if his father were still reigning, he probably wouldn't care—unless there was a particular political advantage to be gained by caring, if you understand what I'm saying."

"Not exactly."

"Then never mind," Viggo replied briskly, before pursing his lips.

Would Matrus really have attempted such a mass-scale lie, so confident that nobody would ever find out or let the truth slip?
Because if the bubble ever burst, the queen and her courtiers would be decried as hypocrites of the worst kind. What difference would there be between our country and Patrus? We would be considered no better than them, just as prone to corruption, lies and bloody-minded leadership. What role would Matrus' national motto, "Freedom in Peace", play in all this?