Queen of faces, p.18
Queen of Faces, page 18
‘Drugs?’ he said. ‘Behaviour therapy? Praxis spells? Psychodynamic counselling? Meditation?’ His voice tightened. ‘How many of those do you think I’ve tried over the last few years? And that was when I had normal problems.’
Khaiovhe would burn. For what she did to Shenten. For blowing up that dam and ruining my life, forcing me into this body. And for this, most of all. For setting Wethers loose on the world. She would burn and burn, and never stop burning.
‘You helped me once,’ I said. ‘You taught me to write the next page. Remember your own advice.’
‘You can write the next page,’ said Kaplen. ‘You can strive to be an Exemplar. But in this world, monsters can rip out the pages.’ His arms hung limp at his sides. ‘Our souls are just toys for the people with real power.’
Yell at him, a part of me said. Slap some sense into that fool. He was wrong; he had to be wrong. But I said nothing.
‘And so,’ said Kaplen. ‘I have a request for you, David. Go to a corner store, buy a razor and smuggle it in here.’
I stared at my feet. Everything felt distant again, just like on the Golden Moon. Like I was watching some puppeteer move my body.
‘I can’t do that,’ I choked out. ‘Let’s go to the kitchen with Ori. Let’s bake something, please.’
‘The truth is,’ said Kaplen, ‘only one thing could make me happy again.’
Lyna Wethers.
He closed his eyes. ‘When I think of her smile, I feel content for a moment. It’s more than anything I get from my professors or pets or friends. Or you.’ His face hardened. ‘But Lyna is dead. And every day I spend here sinks my parents deeper into debt.’
I needed to think. There had to be something that could pull Kaplen off the ledge. I just wasn’t seeing it yet.
‘I’ve thought about it,’ said Kaplen. ‘This way, I’ll go out as a simple tragedy. My family won’t suffer too much.’ His voice grew quiet. ‘But if I drag it out, it’ll be a thousand times worse. I will die resented, as the boy they couldn’t cure. As the wretch who dragged his friends into his misery.’ He stared at me. ‘Simple maths. One life against the happiness of many.’
‘No,’ I forced out. ‘Your soul is worth fighting for.’
I felt someone trying to Nudge me, and I resisted the assault. Was he—
‘Taught you too well, didn’t I?’ Kaplen sighed. Then his hand darted out like a snake, grabbing on to mine. Tears filled his eyes. He yanked me forward, and I stumbled towards the bed, reeling.
‘Please,’ he whispered.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I could only give a shake of my head.
His entire face sagged, then seemed to relax. The grim anger faded from his features.
He pulled me close and wrapped his arms round me. I hugged him back, shaking. ‘They’ll find a way,’ I murmured. ‘They will.’ When we finally broke off, I looked at him. ‘I’ll visit. Every day. And I’ll bring Cardamom. You can apologise to him later.’
A wan smile spread across his face, and he nodded.
‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘To him, to you. To everyone. I’m sorry for not being me.’
Ten minutes later, I was staggering out of the hospital lobby, on to the rain-drenched streets of Hightown. My legs carried me west over the damp pavement, towards the tram station back down the mountain. All was dark, all was distant, amid the endless line of rustic mansions and luxury stores. Tall brass streetlamps rose around me, glaring down at me with cold, pale light.
They’ll make him better, I told myself. Or Ori will. It was not a question, or a wish. They simply would. They had to.
I wandered around the streets for half an hour, before I eventually found myself in the West Hightown tram station. My hand reached into my grey jacket to pay for the ticket. I felt my wallet, and an empty space next to it.
Something twinged in my stomach.
I grasped around my coat, finding lint, loose change and my balisong knife. And nothing else.
Panic surged in my mind. My skin went numb. The realisation hit me like a sledgehammer.
It wasn’t here. It wasn’t here, and I knew I hadn’t misplaced it.
Bile rose at the back of my throat. The Kraken’s Bone.
I sprinted out of the station, leaping down the steps in two bounds. My feet rocketed me through the streets of Hightown, storefronts and mansions blurring as I raced back to the hospital. The chirping crickets and humming streetlamps faded into the distance, and all I could hear were my own panting breaths. I had never run this fast, this violently, not even during my body heist. My chest screamed in agony. My legs burned as my feet slammed on the pavement. And I kept running.
Stupid. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been, the void in my skull where my wits should have been. Kaplen had tried to Nudge me. Of course he could’ve gone through my pockets. Lifting a tiny box would be easy with magic, and with that grab of my wrist, that hug, I’d been distracted enough to miss it.
I thought of his parting words. I’m sorry for not being me. How long had it been since I’d left him? An hour? More?
Idiot. Worthless idiot. I wanted to punch myself, but that would just slow me down.
On the damp street in front of the hospital, I spotted Carriwitch, gazing out at the city below. I grabbed his wrist with a force that could have snapped bone. ‘Please.’ I gasped. ‘You have to help. I think Kaplen stole my pillbox. And I think – I think he wants to – we don’t have much time. Please.’
Carriwitch said nothing, just looked at me with distant eyes.
I yanked his arm. ‘Headmaster. We have to hurry.’ But still he didn’t budge. ‘Carriwitch!’ I shouted. ‘What’s wrong with you? We have to stop him. We have to get to him before –’ I swallowed, my lungs pumping for air – ‘before—’
And then it hit me.
‘He already took them,’ I whispered.
‘The drug is incredibly fast-acting,’ said Carriwitch. ‘The doctors tried to resuscitate him fifteen minutes ago.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s absurd. This is the best hospital in the city. They have spare chassis, surgeons, bloody magic. You were the strongest mage alive, and all you could do was stand there?’ My legs felt numb, and the exhaustion of the night hit me all at once. I sat down on the street, still clutching the headmaster’s wrist like a lifeline. ‘And he can have mine. He can have my body. I can die and he can, he can—’
‘They’ve already tried swapping him.’ Carriwitch’s voice was gentle. ‘It was too late.’
‘There has to be a way.’ I shook my head. ‘There has to be something we haven’t tried.’ I gripped his wrist tighter and clenched my teeth until my head shook.
Carriwitch kept talking the next few minutes, no doubt saying something wise and comforting and serene. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t listening any more. The whole street had faded to a distant blur, and my thoughts had shrunk to a pair of words, repeated over and over. My fault. My fault. My fault.
‘He didn’t know my name,’ I finally managed. ‘He was my best friend, and he didn’t even know my name.’
Something cold bit at my legs. I glanced down, blinking. In my exhaustion, I had unknowingly sat in the centre of a puddle, soaking my trousers from waist to ankles. I hadn’t even noticed. My mind flashed back to my Nudging lessons with Carriwitch. Sitting in the water, unmoving, powerless. Locked inside my own mind.
I caught my breath, hunched over on the rain-drenched street. Shivering in the dark, and cold as death.
When I returned to the capsule hotel, Wes was sitting on the cobblestones, clutching a bottle in a brown paper bag and leaning against a dead streetlamp. The moonlight threw his long shadow on to the street.
I stopped in front of him, not even sure why. ‘Paperboy.’
‘Grey girl,’ he said. ‘Was she your first kill?’
‘What?’ I blinked at him, light-headed.
‘Wethers. Was she your first?’
My throat clenched. Then I nodded.
Wes extended the bottle. Any other night, I would have said no.
I sat, grabbed the bag and gulped a mouthful of liquor. My throat burned, and I coughed.
‘Did you know one of the victims?’ Wes took the bottle.
I thought about lying, hiding my connection to Kaplen. The fewer people who knew about my double life, the better. But I didn’t care any more.
‘Kaplen Ingolf,’ I said. ‘He was kind and smart. He loved baking, and cats, and parties. He helped people, just because he could.’ I hunched over. ‘And then, he was someone else.’
Wes raised the bottle. ‘To Kaplen.’
‘To Kaplen.’ We took turns drinking.
When we finished, I explained everything. My first night with Carriwitch. Adam Weaver, my illness. My mother, and my theft of her money. I even explained the dam explosion from my childhood. Khaiovhe’s attack that had almost killed me, that had led to my brain infection. The reason why I feared drowning.
‘By the end of next summer, I’ll be gone.’ The street wobbled back and forth. ‘But first, I’m going to find Khaiovhe.’ I swallowed. ‘I’m going to find her.’ And when I did, I would show her the same mercy she’d shown Kaplen and me.
Wes nodded. He didn’t mock me, or scoff or dismiss the idea. ‘The more we kill for Carriwitch, the closer we get to the Black Wraith. When the time comes –’ he stared at the wall – ‘I hope it brings you pleasure.’
I patted my chest twice.
Wes lifted an eyebrow. ‘What was that?’
‘It’s called the heartbeat salute. My mother taught it to me in the hospital.’ My chest twinged at the memory. I’d probably die without ever seeing her again. ‘It’s old, dates back to ethnic purges from ancient Shenten. Kshatrans picked it up as well, a few centuries ago. It means “They haven’t killed us yet. Our hearts still beat as one.”’ I patted my chest again. ‘As one?’
Wes nodded. ‘As one.’ He patted his chest twice.
‘No,’ I said. ‘The open palm is for women, like me. You’re a boy, so you do a fist.’
Wes thumped his chest twice. I saluted him back, and our eyes met. Maybe it was the liquor, or my exhaustion, but an odd feeling came over me, a sort of pull, and I rested my head on his shoulder, like the world was a blizzard and he was a flame. To my surprise, Wes didn’t push me away. He just sat next to me, breathing, gazing at me. His hand rested on my pale grey hair, tentative, but gentle. I clutched him tighter, sinking into his warmth.
The two of us sat there, hazy and close in the darkness, moonlight shining on the damp cobblestones. My head in the crook of his neck, his fingers grazing my hair.
I held him close, and didn’t let go until morning.
adam weaver clenched his fist, and a wall of dirt rose in front of him. The oncoming icicle shattered on it.
He flicked his wrist at Ralph Corbiere, his opponent. The wet grass caved in beneath the boy, mud sucking him down like quicksand. Corbiere flailed his arms, trapped. Adam leaned next to him, calm, and ripped off the boy’s armband.
Corbiere was the number two ranked fighter at Paragon, and Adam had crushed him in under a minute, without even using his Codex.
The students in the stands exploded with cheers. A cluster of Humdrum journalists scribbled on their notepads, special invites tucked into their pockets.
A student had taken his life only three days ago, but for most people here, school just kept chugging on. Carriwitch had given a sombre announcement at the banquet hall, and beyond that, nothing. No one cried in the hallways or left flowers at his dorm room. No one whispered about him in class, or noted his absence in any way.
It was like he had never existed.
I wanted to scream at every person in this audience. How could they be smiling, how could they be cheering and clapping, when the world had already ended?
Ralph Corbiere lay in the mud, buried up to his neck. Adam yanked him out of the pit, helping him to his feet. ‘Well fought.’ He shook the other boy’s hand, and the cheering doubled.
I jogged down the raised seating to the sporting field, a floating island covered in grass. Adam ripped off his sweaty goggles. I passed him his glasses and a Thermos of pomegranate cider. ‘Well done, sir.’ I forced a smile on to my face.
Adam inclined his head, and we walked to the edge of the floating island, away from the crowd. A few reporters jogged after us, clutching ballpoint pens. ‘Mr Weaver,’ said the closest man, ‘you’ve won every battle at Paragon for the last six months. And you haven’t even used your Codex. Can we ask why?’
Adam stuttered. ‘W-well. Um. The chaps upstairs thought it’d be safer if I didn’t use Palefire against other students.’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t want to burn off any limbs by mistake.’
I stuffed my pinky stump into my coat pocket.
‘Speaking of Palefire,’ another journalist cut in. ‘You saved a whole town with it as a child. When you grow up, a lot of people think you’ll be saving the rest of us too.’
A common theory. Palefire erased things, and he’d already stopped that dam explosion from Khaiovhe. So people thought Adam could stop the waters from rising, after he grew a few more branches.
‘Is there a question in there?’ said Adam.
‘Do you agree with them?’
Adam flashed a nervous smile. ‘The only thing I’d save right now is the banquet hall. I heard they’re serving banoffee pie this morning.’
He looks so natural. How many millions fell for his humble everyman act, like I had? Even within Paragon, the other students seemed to worship him.
‘My name is Naomi Trynt,’ said a woman. ‘I’m doing a deep profile for the Stemford Times.’ My hometown paper. His hometown too. ‘Can you tell us anything about your birth parents?’
The others went silent. Adam’s face fell, and he stared at the ground. A note of pity twinged in my chest, despite myself.
‘I never knew my parents,’ said Adam. ‘Go and enquire after the orphanage. Perhaps you’ll get more than I did.’ He sighed. This wasn’t the first time he’d been asked this question.
The reporters backed off, and we strode away from them, on to a stone bridge winding towards a lecture hall. We passed into a cloud, and the mass of people vanished behind us.
Adam’s sweet, innocent eyes melted away like snowflakes, and his jaw set in a hard line. ‘Morons,’ he said. ‘If I told them “gullible” was written on my faecal matter, they’d all swarm my toilet clamouring for a picture. And speaking of morons.’ He turned to me. ‘Kaplen Ingolf. He was your friend, wasn’t he?’
I stared at my feet. ‘Yes.’ My pinky stump tingled. We stepped off the bridge on to a quiet, fog-choked island. A grove of oak trees stretched before us.
‘He was my classmate last year. Did a few group projects with him. Not a useful bone in his body. Make sure you don’t end up like him.’
My stomach jerked. A hot pressure built inside me.
‘Don’t talk about him that way,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘He did his best.’
‘He did,’ said Adam. ‘But the boy was a fool, and Paragon students are targets.’ He gulped down pomegranate cider. ‘Kaplen Ingolf should have been expelled. If he had, he would still be alive.’
My ears pounded. My hand burned where my pinky had been.
‘Well, David?’ said Adam. ‘What do you thi—’
Blinding light flashed in front of me. A lightning bolt blasted into Adam, shaking the ground. It was there and gone in an instant, so fast I might’ve imagined it.
Adam sank to his knees, clenching his teeth. Smoke rose off his hair and his singed jacket. His eyes fixated on a nearby oak tree.
Ori Ebbridge leaned against it, pointing a smoking finger at him. For the first time since I’d met her, she wasn’t reading anything.
Adam pushed himself up and stepped towards her. She moved her hand, and a glass cage of scorpions floated between them, opening itself. ‘You, Adam Weaver,’ she said, ‘are despicable, abject scum.’
Adam grinned. ‘You’re the kid who Ousted Nell Ebbridge,’ he said, wincing. ‘You are no amateur. But I could best you with one arm and a toothpick.’
Ori nodded, dark circles under her eyes. Her normal glitter was absent. ‘Yes. But have you ever been stung by a blood scorpion? They make pus come out of your –’ she gestured – ‘and your—’ She gestured again. ‘I’ve never seen it happen in person. Shall we start the experiment?’
Adam looked round. Dozens of students gathered at the neighbouring islands, watching us after the flash of lightning. If he fought Ori here, one of them might blab to a teacher. Or worse, one of the journalists.
The two mages stared each other down. A pair of scorpions crawled out of the cage, and Adam’s fingers twitched.
Finally, he stepped back. ‘I’ll remember this,’ he growled. The boy threw his singed blazer at me. ‘Go and replace it.’
He stalked away towards the banquet hall, and Ori strode towards me, a tall, radiant mess.
‘I haven’t slept in three days.’ A crooked smile spread over her face. ‘Want to get breakfast?’
* * *
Ori and I sat on the grassy ledge behind Canis Hall, gazing over the foggy Mount Elwar and the city beneath us. We ate slices of banoffee pie from the banquet hall. I couldn’t taste any of it, but food was food, and it filled my belly.
Ori stared at her plate with bleary eyes. She finger-combed her blonde hair, a heavy backpack slung over her shoulders.
It was strange to see her without make-up, without the perfect sheen covering her face. She looked like a whole different person. Like a ghost.
‘David,’ she said. ‘I have a favour to ask of you.’
I nodded.
She unzipped the backpack in her lap. A green ball of fur lay curled at the bottom.
Cardamom. Before, he would have bounded out to greet me. Now he cowered from the sunlight, his yellow eyes glinting.
‘Admiral Ebbridge barred him from her property. Doesn’t want pets scratching up her silken furniture.’
