The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (28 page)

“
No, The Mothers do their own chasing,
”
Merit says, coming through his bedroom door.
“
Five horses are kept bridled and saddled at all times just in case someone makes it out. There are hidden doors in every part of the outer wall they can use to get out quickly and cut the runners off no matter how or where someone escapes. One of the people who works the chickens remembers the last Play Group who was Extinguished. He remembers seeing The Mothers galloping off on horseback, their tunics flying behind them. He said it looked like they rode straight through the wall by the stream. He never saw the door open, but he heard the scream of the girl as she was caught. Said it felt like her screams echoed all through the valley for hours afterwards. When The Mothers brought her back, she was tied to a pole between two horses, legs and arms bound, swinging like she was a trussed pig.
”
Merit shivers at the grisly image his words created.

“
If they don
’
t give chase, if they don
’
t help The Mothers, then what exactly do the Unspoken do? I
’
ve paid harsh penalties for Keres
’
s mistakes and I have the right to know why she doesn
’
t pay
right along with us,
”
Harc
’
s face is bloodless, and her gray hair swings as she turns her head quickly to look at me. She looks wild and unearthly.
“
Well? What? Oh, but I forgot. That pretty picture on your chest saves you from having to tell us anything, doesn
’
t it?
”
she says with a sneer. I
’
ve never seen her turn on one of us before. I never imagined her anger could be directed towards one of us. She is shaking with barely suppressed rage. She is poised, ready to lunge at me.

I shift in my chair to ready myself for her when Wex puts his arm over my legs again, pressing me down into the cushion.

“
I do not serve with The Mothers,
”
I say quietly, testing the Heavy tattoo.
“
I do not serve The Mothers,
”
scorching anger boils up my chest and neck at the idea that a member of my own Play Group could think of me not only working against them but working in tandem with The Mothers. Working with sadistic, fear drinking, pain sucking, inhuman demons. Zink
’
s anger at me for asking the same question of him during my tour of the Warren is before me, the devastating mortification mixing with the anger. Their joint heat singes my cheeks.
“
I have no control over what they do. To you or to me.
”

“
What about what they don
’
t do to you, Keres? Do you have control over that?
”

I fling Wex
’
s arm off my legs and burst out of the chair. I
’
m an inch from Harc
’
s face, ready to claw at her eyes. For an instant, I see The Mother who drew blood when she slapped Harc
’
s thirteen year old face. Surprised and shaken, I stumble backwards and gasp out,
“
If one of us falls, so fall we all.
”

Harc takes a step back too, her hands on either side of her head, gripping her hair. Frehn and Doe have flung opened their bedroom doors at the noise we are making.

“
I
’
m- so sorry,
”
Harc says as her body starts to shake with sobs.
“
I have- no idea- I don
’
t understand- something is wrong with me!
”
she cries out. She drops and curls up in a ball on the floor, violently beating her head and hands on the wooden planks. The hair around her face is wet with tears almost instantly. All my anger abruptly changes to pity. I sink to the floor with her and put my arms around her, trying to keep her from the horrible self-inflicted pain. Her head rests on my shoulder. Doe crawls over to us and leans her own head on Harc
’
s back. We sit on the floor, crying together while the boys stand over us. They look at each other, half afraid of our tears and half relieved to have avoided a fight. For now, at least.

The next day, I wait for Abbot outside his den for over an hour before I give up and turn to laundry instead. After starting the machine, I walk into the hall again, unsure what to do next. Juwas
’
toady cackle reaches out through her sewing room door across the hall. I walk over to it and knock, her answering mumble tells me to come in. I don
’
t flip on the light at the door as Zink did, choosing instead to pick my way through the maze of fabrics and materials on the floor by the light of the single heating lamp at the far end of the room.

“
It
’
s me, Juwas,
”
I say when I
’
m within touching distance of her work table.

“
Know it,
”
she answers.

“
What are you working on?
”
I ask, dropping to my knees to be closer to her level.

“
Eh,
”
she grunts, fingering the stretchy fabric and holding it out for me to see.

I cast around for something to talk about, something to catch her interest,
“
Do you know a lot about fabrics, Juwas?
”

“
Do,
”
she nods.

“
Do you have a favorite?
”

Without turning her head, she points to several bolts of leather propped up in the corner.

“
You like the leather best? Why?
”

“
Alive. Better with ink.
”

“
The fabric makes a difference in throwing magus?
”

Juwas snickers a strangled sort of laugh at my question,
“
Does.
”
She bends over her fabric again and cuts a shape out with a knife blade and no pattern. I watch her piece together a sleeve in silence. There is so much I want to ask Juwas, but I bite the questions back. It
’
s not easy to ask difficult questions when I
’
m not receiving any encouragement on the straightforward ones.

“
Mothers are angry,
”
she says abruptly in what passes for a conversational tone. Did she read my mind?

“
Aren
’
t they always angry?
”
I ask with hesitation.

“
Angry at you.
”

“
Why?
”

“
Unbreakable, don
’
t like it.
”

“
I don
’
t understand.
”

Juwas turns, drops her work on the table in an impatient gesture and swivels in her seat to face me. Her white eyes reflect the low light of the heat lamp, they look like they are made of red glass. The effect is grotesque.
“
Gonna work on you hard. Gotta break you. Only way. Break your Play Group first.
”
The effort to expel that many words at once seems to take its toll on her, and her shoulders heave while she catches her breath.

“
Why have they got to break me, Juwas?
”
I whisper, reaching out for her hand. She grasps it hard and pulls me in close, putting my ear next to her mouth. The sound of her wet rattle breathing breaks me out in a cold sweat. I force myself not to pull away when her hot breath burns my ear.

“
You the Catalyst.
”

“
Been looking all over for you,
”
Abbot says, grabbing my arm and pulling me up.
“
You
’
ve skipped out on physical training for three days in a row. You
’
re gonna regret that.
”
He drags me across the sewing room and throws a short combination of greeting and goodbye to Juwas, who grunts incoherently in return.

“
What does she mean, the Catalyst? What is that?
”
I ask Abbot, walking double time to keep up with him.

“
Juwas doesn
’
t always know what she
’
s saying.
”

“
That
’
s not what Zink says.
”

“
Zink doesn
’
t know any more about the situation than you do,
”
Abbot snaps back.
“
Juwas isn
’
t right. Her body can
’
t contain or control her intusmagus, her brain has been addled by her power because it can
’
t keep up.
”

“
Seems fine to me. Slight speech problem maybe, but if you overlook her inability to put a subject and a predicate in one sentence, she
’
s not that hard to understand.
”

Abbot pulls up short and faces me, pointing a finger straight at me.
“
You have no idea what Juwas has been through, what she goes through every single day. Do not treat her lightly.
”

“
I wasn
’
t trying to make fun of her,
”
I say in a quiet voice,
“
Not at all, I was just saying that she seems to know a lot more than she can express.
”

“
Girl, you may have just uttered the wisest words ever spoken. Now, run the mats until I say you can stop,
”
he almost shoves me through my den door.

During the last few weeks, I have focused on brewing ink and stamping new tattoos on my skin. When they aren
’
t in use, my entire left arm is covered in one long connecting ornamentation that stretches from my fingers to the base of my neck. The most beautiful of the individual tattoos is the image of a woman
’
s profile that covers the tip of my shoulder. Her long hair whirls around behind her, spreading across my collar bone and wraps around the left side of the Heavy tattoo on my sternum. She represents the Detrudo group, which acts as a powerful force push.