The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (38 page)

“
Don
’
t know my own strength I guess.
”

“
I find that hard to believe.
”

I keep my eyes on my shoes as we walk across the recreational field to our residence compound.

“
Let
’
s walk a little, ok?
”
he says to me as we reach the compound
’
s glass doors.

“
Ok,
”
I say uneasily.

“
We have another hour of light and I
’
m not ready to go in yet.
”
He leads me in an about-face and we walk towards the back gardens, past the flower-shaped Pedagogics building and into the rows of early blooming cherry trees. I hold my hand out to brush the low hanging branches, sending a shower of light pink petals over us as we walk.

“
Keres, I think we are close to being ready.
”

I stop mid-step,
“
For what?
”

“
To leave,
”
he says, lowering his voice to something below a whisper.

“
Oh, right,
”
I say, walking again. I
’
m not sure what I thought he meant, but whatever it was, I am relieved that it was something else entirely.

“
We have enough food for the first three months, seeds to plant when we get far enough away to set up a temporary camp, vessels to hold and purify water, Harc
’
s factory odds and ends to help build shelter, Doe
’
s knowledge of healing, Merit is working on a plan to get horses out. He found the door in the outer wall over the river yesterday.
”

“
He did?
”

“
Told me when we were taking inventory of the stash. And PG3453 has finished with their side of the plan. Poy has a way to disarm the bullet train. Drim, Flast and Som have worked out a brilliant diversion for The Mothers to give us extra time. We just need to work out the timing.
”

“
Great,
”
I say trying to sound pleased.

“
There
’
s really only one thing keeping us from moving.
”

“
What
’
s that?
”

“
You.
”

“
Me? But I
’
m ready!
”

Wex shakes his head,
“
You aren
’
t. You are less ready every day. The more ink you have, the more attached to your Service you become. We all see it. You don
’
t want to leave anymore.
”

“
I do want to leave. I just don
’
t know if I can.
”
The black smoke fingers of my guard tattoo press into my chest, signaling the need for caution.

“
Doe says they will pursue you. She thinks they will kill anything that gets in the way to get you back. But she won
’
t say how she knows. Healers learn a lot of things in their building, I imagine the Unspoken get sick and hurt too.
”

I say nothing at first and break a branch of blossoms off a tree as we pass, twirling the stick in my hand.

“
I
’
m not leaving you.
”
I say.

“
And if they chase you?
”

“
I will run faster.
”

Wex grabs my shoulder to stop me from walking forward and whirls me around, looking straight into my eyes.

“
Are you ready to risk that? Risk being killed for your friends, by your friends? There
’
s no pretending that we can do this without you. And there
’
s no pretending that you don
’
t care for them the same way you care for us. But we will not survive on the outside without some kind of protection, and I think that
’
s what you
’
ve been learning under the Gratis Building,
”
he searches my eyes looking for an assent. I stare straight into his, willing him to understand.
I have been learning to protect,
I will be essential to your survival. But I will also exponentially increase the danger for everyone.
He must see something because he pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

“
We can do this, Keres,
”
he whispers in my ear.
“
I know we can.
”
He pulls away to look at me again, arms still around my waist. I can see the cherry tree branch I hold in my hand peeking around his neck. The delicate pink petals seem to mock his strong square jaw.

“
Go with me?
”
he asks, pleads, begs, resting his forehead against mine, pulling his hands to my face.

“
Anywhere,
”
I whisper back.

Wex
’
s lips touch mine, lightly at first. Then he devours me, hungry and desperate. We kiss each other, completely concealed by the dense boughs of pink cherry blossoms, drenched in light from the blood-red sunset.

I still feel the taste of Wex on me the next morning and it makes me lighter than air. How do people hide this feeling? The heavy rocks in my stomach have been completely eclipsed by a kissing-induced upsurge of joy. I will go anywhere with Wex.

When Abbot sends me to Marum and Statric in ink production, I literally skip through the Warren. Marum hands me a small, weathered notebook.
“
It
’
s the next set of inks for you. Work your way through them. I have my own assignments today. Statric can explain any unfamiliar components to you. She
’
s scavenged them all.
”
He waves his hand to dismiss me from his work area.

I flip through the yellowing pages briefly to see a labyrinth of diagrams weave between lengthy handwritten paragraphs of explanations and instruction.

“
The most appropriate place to start is the beginning, Keres,
”
Statric says in her unnaturally glossy voice behind me.

“
I will help you.
”
Statric floats down the shelves of little glass jars and dusty boxes, picking up several and handing them to me,
“
Sactine flies are extremely difficult to trap due to their ability to analyze situational danger, so exercise caution with the wings in this casket. Also, be aware that the ginger root costs us a great deal at the markets. Be sure not to use more than what is called for.
”
As she hands me jar and box upon envelope and phial, I place them next to the brewing bowls. When more than twenty different containers litter the surface of the table, Statric finally ceases to circle the room. She stands opposite to me and watches my hands with a keen eye while I begin following the directions for an ink titled,
“
Expiscor, Part A.
”

“
This is a face tattoo,
”
I say slowly. Face and head ink is extremely advanced magus. Anyone on the hall with one has built up over a decade of strength and control.

“
Abbot believes you are ready,
”
Statric replies calmly.

“
What if I
’
m not?
”

“
That is for Abbot to determine. Please, continue.
”

My hands shake, clinking the glass lid against the rim of the jar holding dried strawberry leaves. I have never felt less ready in my life. Abbot
’
s intense desire to cover me in ink is certainly blinding him to my abilities.

After an hour, Statric watching me as if her own life depended on the ink I
’
m brewing, I pour the bowl of sable-colored liquid into a phial and cork it. I hold the phial out between my thumb and forefinger and look at it with one eye closed. This plain glass tube contains something deadly. As I make up my mind to find Abbot so he can stamp me, Statric flips the page of the notebook,
“
Here is the next one, Keres. You will find the water caltrop in the dark red box on the bottom shelf.
”

I place the Expiscor, Part A, ink in a rack and retrieve the bat-shaped pods as directed. I suppose Statric will have me brew under her until she is required elsewhere in the Warren. Over the last few days, the level of activity in the Warren has intensified. I have seen more Tutelas in the halls, hurrying in and out of the libraries and combat simulators in the last two days than I did my entire first three months. Everyone wears a haggard, drawn look, and none of them will meet my eye. I have started using the tree behind my left ear several times a day in order to concentrate on what is before me and not what I imagine is taking place behind the pensive expressions.

When Statric has watched me brew three more ink blends, she nods in approval at the rack of tubes.
“
Abbot will not be able to see you until this afternoon. He and Marmet are in council with the Doyens today. You are to meet with Zink in his den, and he will apply the inks for Civi, Ancile, and Integro groups. His placement is perfect and he is best suited to train you in their uses. The urban combat simulator is reserved for your use this afternoon, should you require practical application.
”
She extends the ink rack to me, then turns her attention to inventorying which jars and boxes are nearing empty on the shelves.

I knock lightly on Zink
’
s door and open it at the sound of his voice.

“
Statric sent me,
”
I say.

“
Right, yes. I
’
m supposed to help you with the defensive magus.
”

I hold out the rack of ink to him and he hesitates before he takes it.

“
Expiscor,
”
he says in an undertone and shrugs his shoulders.

“
Marum had me brew it first. Abbot says I
’
m ready.
”