The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (6 page)

“
The five in black. Black. No one wears black here. The dye is too valuable to the other cities,
”
I say. My eyes turn to my black box with the black suit spilling out of it. It
’
s the only piece of clothing I
’
ve ever held in my hands that was black.

“
No, oh, no,
”
I whisper. The Unspoken service, the five in black, my black suit.
“
No.
”

“
You don
’
t know that yet,
”
Frehn is behind my chair, arms around my shoulders, his breath in my ears,
“
You don
’
t know that. It could be anything, any number of reasons why your uniform is black. It
’
s not the same as the ones the five were wearing. It
’
s not, Keres.
”

Doe is at my feet,
“
He
’
s right, Keres. It
’
s not the same, their black was loose and cotton and they had masks. None of the uniforms on your card have masks.
”

I look at Wex, his eyes are narrow and his jaw tight with pressure. There is a muscle twitching in his neck.
“
Black,
”
I mouth to him.

“
It doesn
’
t matter,
”
he says.
“
We will not be here long enough for it to matter. They can hardly turn you into a torturer in a couple of years. You
’
ll still be young when we leave and the five were very old. I would have guessed they were long past Disengagement by the wrinkles around their eyes.
”

Reassurance flows through me like a warm drink. This is the first time he has mentioned leaving Chelon since last night. Hearing him say it with PG3456 around me makes it real again. We are leaving Chelon in... wait. Years?

“
Why years, Wex? Why not tomorrow? Or tonight?
”
I plead.
“
Everyone in Chelon will be at the feast tonight, it
’
s the perfect night to go over the outer wall.
”

Wex only smiles and shakes his head.
“
We don
’
t know anything about living without the canteen, the Necessities Center, and unfortunately, we don
’
t know how to live without The Mothers. We have to gain some skill, we have to find a way for all of us to get out at the same time. That will take some doing. One or two might easily get over the outer wall but certainly not all six of us. We must keep our heads down and learn everything we can in our Services. Even yours, Keres. Whatever it is, it will be valuable on the outside. Besides, you and Merit are in no shape to climb mountains.
”

He has a point there. I look at Merit, almost emaciated with malnutrition. His eyes are dull and his shoulders hunched. Being out of doors with the animals will strengthen him up; it
’
s exactly what he needs. He seems to think the same thing about me, a sad smile hanging on his lips. As we stand now, we are liabilities to PG3456. We would get them killed, or worse captured, for sure.

The all too quick mind that got me in trouble with The Mothers so many times has abandoned me. Everyone is outthinking me, which rattles me into anger. It
’
s not their fault I had some sort of silencer around my room and they couldn
’
t share their ideas with me, but it still gnaws at my stomach when I think of them in contact with each other and plotting for months without me. They had each other, if only in voice, for months while I had nothing but my round terra-cotta bed and blurs of The Mothers
’
lavender tunics.

“
It must be late,
”
I say.
“
We still have to check in with the Service Leaders before the feast.
”

No one moves, so I tap on Frehn
’
s arms and he lets me go. I pack the black suit back in the box, place it in my room and walk out of our block. I don
’
t wait to see if they follow me. I
’
m as angry as I was two years ago at the sound of The Mother
’
s hand connecting with Harc
’
s check, at the sight of her blood. I get to the Gratis Building before I can clear my thoughts. The building is almost blood red in the late afternoon sun.
“
Fitting,
”
I snort.

The Keeper at the front desk glances up at me when I enter the vestibule. Without a word, she points to an area in the corner of the hall and buzzes me through to an elevator that will take me to the location where I am to meet my Service Leader. The elevator car drops so fast my stomach lurches again. Inwardly thankful there is nothing left for my stomach to expel, I can
’
t stop a smile from forming when I think of the doors of the elevator opening to an Unspoken with an elaborate hairstyle and a labyrinth of patterns tattooed all over her body gazing down at me in a pool of sick. That would certainly make an impression.

When the car finally stops and the doors slide open, I step out into a hall of doors, each one with a lantern and a number. I stand awkwardly in front of the elevator, not sure where to go. The door in front of me opens and a man with a twisted swirl pattern tattoo that sweeps up from his neck and across his forehead appears. He is wearing a black suit like the one in my box, only his is just form fitting and not skintight like mine will be.
“
I
’
ve been waiting for a while, Keres,
”
he says, not totally void of kindness.

“
I
’
m sorry, I haven
’
t been used to so much, uh, activity,
”
I apologize while trying to avoid looking at his tattoo. It seems to be moving, pulsating.

“
Yes. I can imagine. Well, come inside and have a seat.
”

I follow his lazy gesture and sit in the chair he indicates. He takes a seat at the desk and looks at me, hands behind his head. He looks like he hasn
’
t shaved in days and there is an unsettling scar running the length of his right forearm, cutting through a massive tattoo. Having appraised me for a minute, he introduces himself as Abbot.

“
What do you know about us?
”
he asks abruptly.

“
Nothing. I mean just what everyone else knows.
”

“
What do you think you know about us?
”

This question startles me. I hesitate, mouth agape.

“
That
’
s what I thought. Quick minds make too many assumptions. Assumptions which display gross ignorance. Well, forget everything you think you know. It won
’
t help you to have preconceived ideas of what your training will involve. Tomorrow morning, don
’
t put on your uniform. Just wear your black diamond ornament and everyday clothes. You can carry your uniform in this pack.
”
He hands a brown pack to me, larger than my everyday pack and much sturdier.
“
We don
’
t wear our uniforms when we are off the hall. Black is not a common color and it would cause a certain level of unease among the others. Come on, I
’
ll show you your den.
”

I
’
ll bet it would cause unease
, I think. If anyone else in
Chelon has had a visit from the five, chaos would explode were the Unspoken to prance around the city in black.

We get up and walk down the hall to a door numbered 29. He unlocks it and hands me the key.
“
You will keep everything for Service in here, you
’
ll change in here and you
’
ll study in here. When you arrive every morning, come to this room and dress. I
’
ll turn up with instructions at some point.
”
We walk into the room.

It
’
s larger than I anticipated from the closeness of the doors in the hall. There is a desk, sitting area with overstuffed chairs and a love seat gathered around a low table. Bookcases cover one of the walls and a large cushioned mat covers the floor in the back of the room. Everything is surprisingly comfortable, even cozy, in appearance. Abbot shows me the light, atmosphere and other control boxes.

“
If I don
’
t turn up before lunch tomorrow, you can start with this book.
”
He thumps a volume on the desk. There
’
s no title on the spine and his hand rests on the cover so I can
’
t pick it up. So I just nod assent.

“
Any questions?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Well?
”

“
What is our Service to Chelon?
”

Abbot only grins and shakes his head.
“
That is something for which you are not yet ready to know.
”

He leads me back to his own den and stands me in the center of the room.
“
This will hurt a lot less if you hold still.
”
He reaches out to grab the collar of my shirt and I instinctively jerk back, knocking his hand to one side. He just smiles wryly and holds up a large metal stamp, then pulls my shirt down so the top of my sternum is visible. He places the stamp flush to my skin.

“
Ready?
”
he asks. I can only blink, but he takes this for a yes. He clicks the stamp down and searing pain surges through me, buckling my knees. Abbot inspects the place where he stamped me, prodding it with one finger.
“
Not bad,
”
he nods with self satisfaction.
“
That
’
s your first tattoo and a very remarkable one at that. It will keep you quiet when you are not on the hall. Just try talking about what you see and learn down here and see what happens. You won
’
t like it,
”
he says. The tone he uses is a strange mix of harshness and sympathy. I can
’
t make him out, I can
’
t make anything out but the throbbing pain on my chest. I reach up to feel the place where I was stamped.
“
You want to see?
”
he asks. He points to a three sided mirror to the right of the den
’
s door next to his wardrobe closets. I stand in front of the mirrors holding my collar open so I can see.