by T. C. Edge
Apparently not…
The night is exhausting. I start spending more and more time looking at the clock, wondering where the hell this Adryan is.
Has he not shown up? Does he actually know which one I am among all these blue-dressed clones?
The more men I meet, and the more champagne I’m required to sip through little toasts, the more my head begins to throb. With the hall so brightly lit, and with a constant smile forced onto my face, my eyes start to ache too. I begin to grow warm, sweat building on my forehead and cutting streaks through my makeup.
I can only imagine that I’m starting to look a mess. Hair growing damp and lank, makeup running, eyes squinting and posture drooping. The only benefit is that the queue before me begins to thin, several men appearing put off by my increasing dishevelment.
Currently, I count three in line. Only half an hour ago, the queue was double that.
As the latest man steps forward, however, a smooth voice issues from the side.
“I think I’ll take this one.”
Through my aching, squinting eyes, I see a form drift casually from the crowd. He moves to the man before me, who immediately dips his head in reverence and steps back.
“Yes, of course, sir,” he says. “Take as much time as you desire.”
The new entrant takes the man’s place. It’s obvious why.
He’s wearing light grey.
He’s a Savant.
Despite my aversion to his kind, I instinctively straighten my posture and widen my eyes. The light burns, but I try not to show any discomfort.
Through my partially blurred vision, his face comes into view. There’s a smile on it, his lips shut tight and cool grey-blue eyes staring right at me. He’s clearly well versed in attempting human emotion. Unlike most Savants, he’s able to mimic us quite well.
The customs are observed. Nods and little bows and all that stuff I’m growing very bored of. Then, I stand as straight as I can and wait for him to address me. He takes a moment to examine me first, his icy grey-blue eyes paying particular attention to mine, burning under the dual attack of the lights and his penetrating gaze. Then, he speaks.
“Good evening, Brie,” he says, his voice also a little less monotone than most of his kind. “Please accept my apology for barging in like this.”
“That’s your prerogative, or so I understand,” I respond flatly.
If he can mimic us, then I can mimic them. But then, part of me is ‘them’. God this is so confusing…
“Indeed it is. But I need to apologise for something more.”
He takes a little step towards me. No one else has come so close. Another right of the Savants, perhaps, that the rest don’t enjoy.
Closing the gap, his words tighten too. The room is loud and full of chattering. His voice becomes a whisper, slipping through the din and into my ears.
“I wanted to speak to you earlier, but I thought it best not to rush straight in. Better to make things look natural.”
“Sorry. I’m lost.”
I ease a little away from him to get a better look at his face. There’s the tiniest glint shining in his eyes, hidden behind layers of ice. Like the sun rising over the frozen tundra, bringing light to an otherwise desolate world.
“That’s OK, and highly understandable,” he says quietly. “We have much to discuss, although this really isn’t the place.” His eyes narrow and his head tilts just slightly to one side. “I suspect, given your expression, that you weren’t expecting a man like me?”
“I…I…”
“Yes indeed, that confirms it. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Brie. I trust you’ve been told my name at least?”
“Adryan,” I whisper.
His expression undulates. Not quite as flat as other Savants. Frosty and largely cast from stone, yes, but less rigid than any other Savants I’ve seen.
“Good, well that’s a start. Now, I won’t stay with you too long this evening. Such a thing is unbecoming and unfair to the rest. I suspect that several men will wish to court you. But that won’t be a problem…”
I feel my body beginning to burn. My head pulses like a beating drum. My eyes continue to blur, the bright lights around me sending shards of glass right into my brain.
“Why not?” I manage to mumble.
“Because I outrank them. I could have the pick of anyone here. And I’ll choose you. No one will find that too surprising, given your recent popularity and fame. Remember…our subterfuge must be convincing. We have started the ball rolling with this conversation. But we’re only just beginning…”
His words start to fade. I blink hard a few times, trying to wash away the growing haze, but all that does it draw in the blackness.
Slowly but surely, the room becomes smaller, and the walls of darkness start to close in. I can’t hold it any longer. My brain feels like it’s about to explode.
My legs are the first to go, with my brain shutting off moments after. All I hear is my champagne flute shattering on the floor, and see the ground rushing up to my face.
Then, nothing but blackness.
9
I wake in unfamiliar surroundings.
There’s a dullness to my senses as my eyes creak open, letting in the light. At first, I can barely make out what’s in front of me. Then, the shape of two eyes appears, surrounded by wrinkled old skin. They seem to be right in front of me, as if they’re mere millimetres from my face.
I instantly blink hard and recoil. When I open my eyes again, however, the eyes have drawn right back, and now their owner comes into full view.
Mrs Carmichael stands above me, her brows wrinkled and drawn together. She holds a damp cloth in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.
As my eyes widen, I note that the dull throb in my head has subsided. Now, a feeling of numbness has set in, as though I’m suffering some partial paralysis.
I try to get up, but fail, my limbs feeling too heavy to move.
“Settle down now, Brie,” comes Mrs Carmichael’s croaky voice. “You had a nasty fall.”
I check the cloth in her hand again and note that it’s littered with red stains.
“What happened?” I groan, reaching to my forehead. I appear to have several little cuts, each coated in a layer of antiseptic healing cream. They’re quickly on the mend.
Mrs Carmichael pulls my hand away.
“Don’t go messing with my work. From what I gather, you passed out and fell on some broken glass. Sophie told me you were feeling ill all day. You should never have attended the ball in such a state…”
Ah yes, the champagne glass. I must have fallen on its shattered shards.
“You know I couldn’t miss it,” I mumble weakly. “I needed to go.”
“And did you find who you were looking for?”
I nod, thinking back. Adryan. He was a Savant…
With a renewed effort, I manage to drag my body up in the bed. I take a look around the room and note that it’s one I’ve never been in. However, the smell is familiar to me. A sweet and natural aroma of flowers seeps up my nose.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“At the training house Sophie took you to,” she tells me. “You’ve been out all night. She called me as soon as she got you back. How do you feel now?”
“Better,” I say, wincing slightly. “But I still ache all over.”
She nods and turns her eyes to the door behind her. It’s shut tight, only the two of us in the room. Still, she sees fit to bend her old frame down a bit and lower her voice to a whisper.
“You do know what’s wrong with you, don’t you? It’s your abilities, Brie. They’re beginning to manifest. Your body is going through a lot of changes.”
I sigh and place my hand on my boiling forehead once more, grimacing as my fingers graze the little wounds.
“I didn’t think it would happen so fast,” I moan. “Although, I guess Zander did say it would start after a few days off the drugs. And…he said it would be uncomforta
ble. He certainly got that right.”
“I can see it,” she says, still leaning down. “Your eyes are bloodshot. Your body is covered in bruises. And I can only guess what’s happening inside your head. It’s the price you pay, I suppose.”
“And I’ll pay it,” I say defiantly. “I’ll pay it ten times over if I have to.”
“Be careful what you wish for. I suspect this is only the start.”
A creaking noise issues from behind her and she quickly straightens and turns her old spine. Sophie flows through the doorway like a breath of fresh air, bringing a stronger whiff of flowers with her. In her hands she holds a vase with an array of colourful blossoms.
“I thought I’d brighten up the room, Brenda,” she says as she comes. Her eyes turn to me. “Brie! You’re awake…”
She speeds forward, passing Mrs Carmichael the vase – much to her annoyance – before reaching out and brushing her fingers through my hair. A couple of fingers then lay flat on my forehead for a few moments, carefully making sure to avoid any cuts.
“You still feel hot. It must be a fever. How do you feel?”
“A lot better,” I say. “I didn’t embarrass myself too much, did I? At the ball, I mean?”
“Oh goodness, no. Don’t worry, you barely caused a stir. It happens sometimes. Some girls can’t take the pressure of being introduced to so many Enhanced. Not that that’s what happened with you, of course,” she hastily adds.
“No…”
“Although, I understand it happened when you were speaking with a Savant. That would test the wits of even the most self-assured of girls.”
“A Savant, you say,” murmurs Mrs Carmichael, stepping to the side of the room and placing the vase on a table. “You didn’t tell me about that part, Sophie.”
“No, well it’s only just come to my attention.”
“And this Savant. Who is he?”
“His name’s Adryan Shaw. A very handsome young man, and quite the catch. It was he who invited you to the ball, Brie. Were you aware of that?”
“He mentioned it,” I lie.
In truth, he didn’t really need to.
“Such a lucky girl! And clearly, you made an impression in person. Despite…what happened.”
“What are you saying?” asks Mrs Carmichael, her posture stiffening and eyes ever narrowing.
“Well, this is so very exciting,” says Sophie, bristling with joy. “I’ve just received a message from the Council of Matrimony. It turns out, Adryan would like to begin the process of courting! In fact, several men bid on the opportunity, but were beaten to the punch. After all, who’s going to outrank such a respected young Savant! Well done, Brie. I’m so proud of you.”
“My God…” mumbles Mrs Carmichael, shaking her head at Sophie’s enthusiasm. “You truly are something, Sophie.”
“Excuse me? What exactly do you mean by that, Brenda?” There’s a muted bite to her words. I doubt she’s the sort to ever let herself go, or get properly angry. Living in Inner Haven, such tendencies will have been neutered by now.
“You know precisely what I mean. You’re nothing but an airhead, a mindless slave. It’s the same with all you women who marry up. You’re insufferably arrogant and you don’t even know it…”
“I. Am. Not!”
“You damn well are, and frankly I’d rather not spend another moment in this horrendous building. You should be ashamed of yourself, grooming these women to betray their own people.”
“That isn’t what I do at all! I’ve done nothing but be kind to Brie throughout all of this. And how do you think she feels, hearing you speak in this way! Clearly, she doesn’t agree with your sentiment! How dare you come here and…”
I lift my hand and clasp it to Sophie’s forearm. Her sentence ends abruptly, my guardian’s words bringing a sheen of angry tears to her eyes. She blinks them away as she looks down at me.
“Stop it, both of you,” I say. “This is hardly the time…”
“Yes…exactly,” stammers Sophie. “I won’t stand here and be insulted by this woman at my place of work. I perform an important duty here, I’ll have you know, Brenda.”
“And what is that? Enlighten me,” oozes Mrs Carmichael with the methodical cool of the Savants.
“I am aiding in the growth of the population of Inner Haven,” says Sophie proudly.
“Yes…Inner Haven. Like I say, all you do is betray your own people. How you, and all your little students, are so blinkered to that I don’t know. But I can’t be here anymore. Come on, Brie, I’m taking you back to the academy.”
“Oh no, she can’t go!” splutters Sophie. “She needs more coaching if she’s to court a Savant!”
“She needs nothing of the sort. I can assure you of that. You really have no idea what’s going on here, do you?”
I offer a stern glare at Mrs Carmichael. She bites down on her tongue as Sophie speaks again.
“What does that mean? This is my work. I am sure I’m far more aware than you of what’s going on.”
“Forget it. A woman like you wouldn’t understand. Now come on, Brie, let’s get you home.”
She moves in to try to help me to my feet. I feel myself naturally sliding from the bed and planting my feet on the floor. Like her, I’d rather not be here any longer either.
And yet, this argument has gone on long enough.
“No,” I say, pushing my guardian lightly away. She withdraws in surprise. Sophie smiles triumphantly.
“You see. She wants to stay and continue her training…”
“She wants nothing of the sort!”
“WOULD YOU BOTH SHUT UP!”
I shout so loud that my head feels like it might explode again. I wince hard and grit my teeth. For a few seconds, a violent skirmish begins inside my skull. Slowly, it fades as the room turns silent.
I take a long breath, and re-open my eyes.
“You two are like a couple of bickering children. It’s pathetic. Honestly, I’ve got far more important things to be doing than listening to this rubbish. Sophie, thank you for guiding me through things so far. But I don’t feel comfortable here, and I’m going to go back to the academy.”
Now, it’s Mrs Carmichael whose face morphs with a rare show of victory.
“And you, Brenda,” I say, rounding on her, “need to apologise to Sophie. She is only doing her job, and whatever you might think of it, you have no right to insult her like you did.”
She dips her eyes like a kid being reprimanded by her mother. Then she lifts them again and guides them to Sophie’s.
“I apologise, Sophie, for being rude,” she begins. “I’ve been up all night with worry. And, well, I’m cranky at the best of times.” Her attempt at humour doesn’t fall completely flat. Her lips grind into a tight smile, and Sophie’s follow. “Will you accept my apology?”
“Of course, Brenda,” utters Sophie, her words carrying a hint of reluctance. “Stress can…twist words. I won’t hold them against you.”
“Thank you. For understanding.”
The exchange is somewhat tense and terse. Both women look at each other with a measure of animosity that their false words cannot hide. I don’t care. I really do have more important things to worry about.
Much more important things.
“Good. Now isn’t that better?” I say, standing wearily to my feet.
I never thought I’d be in this position with Mrs Carmichael, treating her like a child. Sophie…well, that’s slightly more understandable.
“If you really don’t want to stay here, I understand,” says Sophie. “However, if you wish to be successful in courting Adryan, then I’m here to help. Contact me any time, OK?”
“Thanks, Soph, I appreciate that. I think – hope – I can take it from here, though.”
“Well, the offer’s always there,” she says.
With a renewed calm spreading through her, that false smile of hers reappears. I preferred her when she was shouting and crying. At least then she seemed mor
e human.
“How will you be getting back home?” she asks, as I begin pulling on the old clothes I came here with two days ago.
“We’ll take the Conveyor Line,” says Mrs Carmichael. “And walk the rest.”
Sophie quickly shakes her head.
“No, not in the state she’s in. I’ll programme my car to take you home.”
I can tell the manner in which she suggests it annoys my guardian. It’s a nice offer, but she presents it as an order. Mrs Carmichael holds her smile, though, and refuses to react with anything but a polite nod.
“Excellent. I’ll go down and configure the journey now.”
She exits the room, Mrs Carmichael following her step with a growing scowl.
“I really do despise that woman,” she grumbles.
“Don’t start,” I say. “I’m really not in the mood.”
She turns to me with a grin.
“You really are changing, Brie. You were never this assertive.”
“Well, maybe that’s my Savant side coming through,” I suggest flippantly.
Although, really, there might be some truth to that.
“Perhaps. Just don’t let it take too firm a grip,” she warns.
My eyes darken at the thought.
“Never,” I growl.
Heading downstairs, we find Sophie at the door, waiting and ready to see us off. She offers Mrs Carmichael a cursory nod as she passes and steps into the car. At least she manages to say thank you this time for letting us use her car.
I get a far more affectionate farewell. She pulls me into a hug and once more – quietly this time so Mrs Carmichael doesn’t hear – offers me a hearty congratulations for ‘bagging a Savant’.
“It’s such a rare thing, Brie, I trust you know this. It’s the highest calling for any of us Outer Haveners. Please, don’t throw the opportunity away. If you need my help, do call.”
“I will. Of course I will.”
“Good. That’s all I want to hear, with your, ahem, guardian around. I’ll make sure I inform the Council of Matrimony that you’ll be contactable at the academy. Usually, they’d send correspondence to me, and I’d manage your transition and the dates and details of your courtship. But, if you want to go it alone, that’s OK.”
