The Complete Marked Series Box Set

by March McCarron

  Chapter Two

  Peer smiled in greeting, or at least he tried to. His cheeks had grown weary—unsurprising, after two hours of welcoming the Chisanta to their temporary home. He suspected the expression now looked more grimace than grin.

  He stepped forward, his boots crunching in the snow. A middle-aged Cosanta couple glided up the path and through an ancient stone gate. He extended his arm and shook, seemingly, the thousandth hand yet that morning. And then the thousand-and-first.

  The Cosanta introduced themselves. They regarded the campus grounds with interest. They appeared pleased by the grand lecture hall at Peer’s back, which bewildered him. He found the place more than a little forbidding, with its centuries-old architecture—all its towering dark stone and narrow, leaded-glass window panes.

  Beside him, Su-Hwan recorded these two new names on her ever-expanding list. “Is that Arric with two ‘r’s?”

  “It is,” the man said, his tone distracted. He gazed over his shoulder at a patinaed plaque set into the entryway, which bore the crest and motto of the University of Accord. “Aerrit Pertuit,” he read. “Meaning, of course…” he prompted, looking sideways at his female companion.

  Peer noticed the woman frown in irritation, so he answered, “‘Knowledge prevails.’ Here’s to hopin’ that’s the case.” He extended a map of the grounds for them to examine, pointing. “Now, up on the north campus there’re still some graduate students and professors in residence, but the dormitories in the center green and on the west campus are all free.”

  As the couple studied the map, more figures streamed through the gate. A large Chiona man almost slipped on a patch of ice, but regained his balance with an oath. His unwieldy bag fell; its contents clanged as it landed.

  “Malc,” Peer called out in welcome. “Good seein’ you, brother.” He bobbed his head to the others, whose faces were also familiar.

  The big, bald man smiled, the angry scar on his cheek puckering, and he picked up his bag and shook off the snow. “Heya, Peer. Nice digs you’ve found us.” He shifted a fleeting, hard look to the backs of the Cosanta couple as they walked off.

  “A stroke of good luck, the dean going for it. Be easier to organize with us all livin’ together.”

  “Is little Bray Marron here, too?” he asked, gazing around as if she might appear from behind one of the time-old sycamore trees.

  “No, not yet.” Peer extended the map. “You can grab a bunk in any of these,” he said, gesturing to the western quarter.

  Malc slung his bag to his shoulder with a muffled clink, and Peer wondered how many weapons the man carried. “Which is for Chiona?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Malc shifted his gear. “Which dormitory’s for Chiona? Hurry man, this is heavy.”

  Peer frowned. “Don’t see the need for that. Just find yourself a bed.”

  The man shook his head. His expression betrayed doubt, either in Peer’s sanity or his competence. He snagged the map to solve the problem for himself. “We’ll take Benteen Hall. You tell the other Chiona, yeah?”

  Peer folded his arms before his chest. “I’ve got better things to do, and what’s more, most of ’em are settled in already.” He looked the man up and down with unkind eyes. “You can be sharin’ a privy with a Cosanta. It won’t kill you.”

  “Please spell your names for me, Masters Chiona,” Su-Hwan said in her bland tone. Peer bit back a laugh. He knew her ways well enough to hear the kernel of censure in her voice.

  While his young companion scribbled their names, Peer’s gaze pulled to the gate. His eyes bulged and he stumbled half a step back. Through the entry, a sizable trunk floated at eye level, apparently moving of its own accord. It bobbed in the breeze, then shuddered to a halt mid-air. Peer’s mouth parted in bafflement.

  Behind it, four young people ambled into view—Elevated, by their non-conforming dress and hairstyles. One, a teenage girl with long white-blonde hair and an elfin face, held a hand aloft, fingers pointed towards the trunk.

  “Oh, hello, Su-Hwan,” she said, and with an indifferent flick of the wrist, she let the case fall to the ground. She bowed her head to Peer, a display of respect that surprised him.

  “Hello, Clea,” Su-Hwan said, the nib of her pen scratching against the parchment. And then, to the others, “Wynn. Elda. Whythe. I am glad you are well.”

  A young woman with an abundance of curly auburn hair shivered, and she retracted her hands into her coat-sleeves. “Spirits, it’s freezing.”

  “Least you didn’t have Whythe kickin’ snow at the back of your legs the whole way,” a petite girl said, with a glare at a familiar, sandy-haired man. “Lousy oaf.”

  Peer experienced a twinge of guilt when he saw the large yellowing bruise on Whythe’s jaw. He had caused that injury himself. The memory made his hand tingle.

  “Me? I would never,” he said, grinning. “You know me, Elda. A perfect gentleman.”

  When the three young women moved to help Su-Hwan with her list, Whythe squatted and snatched up a lump of snow. He pressed it into a ball, his pink face alight with mischief. He glanced over at Peer and winked, then cranked his arm back to launch his icy missile.

  The small girl who had accused him of snow-kicking, Elda, turned just then. She held up her hand, palm out. Whythe, his arm still reared to throw, froze in place. The delighted expression on his face turned unnaturally motionless.

  Elda snorted in amusement. “Dummy.”

  The long-haired girl who had levitated the trunk, Clea, laughed delightedly, but it sounded a bit forced to Peer. “What a predicament, Whythe,” she said.

  Clea swept her arm upward, and the snowball in the man’s hand floated above his head, threatening. Then, all at once, it fell back to the ground and Whythe shook himself, beaming in triumph. Clea and Elda both mimed the tipping of nonexistent hats.

  Peer was not fooled by this show of good cheer. Most of the Elevated continued to walk around in a fog of confusion. These four seemed rather to be playing at lightheartedness, and overacting a bit. There was a hurt in their eyes that he could see even as they smiled.

  “Hey,” the curly-haired girl complained in a nasal voice. “Why take my gift too?” She sniffed. “I wasn’t doing a thing to you.”

  Whythe shrugged. “Sorry. You’re not to be trusted, Wynn. You’re usually an accomplice.”

  Peer crossed his arms and regarded these young people with thoughtful eyes. He had never seen Chisanta with such remarkable gifts. More than feeling amused by their antics, he experienced a strong surge of hope. With such powerful allies, surely they could best Quade. He studied their faces, making a mental list: Clea, telekinesis; Elda, immobilization; Whythe, gift-blocking, similar to Su-Hwan.

  Shaking himself, he remembered the task at hand. “I’ve a map here,” he said, holding out the paper.

  Clea waved this aside and once again levitated her trunk. “No need. My father was a professor here; I know my way to the undergraduate dormitories.” The flash of grief on her face went unmasked. The curly-haired girl, Wynn, clasped her shoulder in support.

  “Alright, then,” Peer said, his brows drawn low. “Go get outta the cold.”

  “It’s good to see you, Peer,” Whythe said with an unreadable expression, as he passed.

  Peer watched them go, a warm sensation prickling in his right hand.

  “You know,” Su-Hwan said, her attention wholly on the list. Peer suspected she hadn’t even noticed the snowball incident. “I believe that is the last of them.” She wiggled her fingers, taking a mental tally. “Yes, this is every Chisanta we know of in the city.”

  “Good,” Peer said. He reached up and massaged his aching cheeks. “We’ve got plenty more to do.” He watched Su-Hwan carefully fold the paper and tuck it away in her breast pocket. “Let’s be off, then.”

  Su-Hwan glided to his side. “Where to now?”

  “There’s a clothing donation bank downtown,” he said, turning away from the campus, and leading them
into the city proper. “Thought we’d see about getting some changes for our people. Our scent, as a whole, ain’t the pleasantest.”

  The girl nodded, her dark eyes thoughtful. “Most of the Chisanta seemed unhappy with our mixed arrangement.” She turned her face to him, her shining black hair floating on the wind. “Do you think it will be a problem? Harmony among the Chisanta?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I’m thinkin’ it will.”

  He imagined it would resolve itself organically in time, but time was not guaranteed. If only we could somehow be speedin’ up that process…

  To their left, not far beyond the university entrance, the palace sat atop its long sweep of grounds. But they turned right instead, further into the central borough. Peer jammed his fists into his coat pockets as he trod up the slope. He scanned the row of brick-faced homes, and noticed a thick, floral curtain jerk closed, its golden tassels waving feebly. Somewhere nearby, a dog howled.

  "It certainly is quiet," Su-Hwan said.

  Peer grunted assent. He’d never witnessed such a soundless city street. The slap of his boots on the pavement, and even Su-Hwan's lighter footfall, seemed to ring out against the silence.

  After a time, however, Peer thought he discerned a third set of feet. He glanced over his shoulder, but the lane appeared deserted. He paused to listen. The sound ceased. But when he set off again, he was certain he heard someone follow.

  “We’ve grown a tail,” he said, under his breath.

  “Yes,” Su-Hwan agreed.

  “Let’s see if I can’t get behind him,” he whispered. “You keep walking.”

  Peer proceeded at his usual pace until an alleyway opened on his left. He ducked into the shadows and pressed his back to the brick. Somewhere in the vicinity, a child screamed—one short, piercing note—and then was silenced. A chill swept down Peer’s spine.

  He patted the knife in his boot to assure himself of its readiness. Su-Hwan’s footfall continued north at a steady beat. A second, softer tread pattered an irregular rhythm against the pavement. The lone figure did not walk plainly down the street, but rather padded in cautious bursts and stops. It kept low and took shelter, first behind a garbage bin, and then in the shade of a stoop.

  Peer waited until the shadow crept by his alley, and then he sprang. He hooked his arm around their stalker’s neck, and the figure let out a feminine sounding grunt.

  The woman’s hood fell back, exposing a face he knew—a Chiona face. In his surprise, he slackened his grip. “Lendra?”

  His sister—the very woman who had administered his testing as a youth—made use of his momentary lapse. She grabbed his arm, shifted a foot back between his own boots, and propelled his body over her hip. His stomach lurched as his feet flew from the street and he was upended in the air. He could not say which way was down, until gravity demonstrated. He slammed into the cobblestones, hard. All the breath shot from his lungs, and a splitting pain erupted at the back of his skull.

  He rolled, prepared to fend off her second attack, but it didn’t come. Lendra spun on nimble feet and sprinted up the lane, away from him. Towards Su-Hwan.

  Peer cursed and scrambled to bolt after her. “Su-Hwan!” he bellowed, hoping to give her warning.

  The street veered to the left and Peer followed, heart hammering in his chest. When his young friend came into view, he found her engaged with another Chisanta, a man twice her size. Lendra was nearly upon them.

  Peer forced his legs to move faster, though he could’ve sworn he was already sprinting full-out. Hot wetness trailed down the back of his neck.

  The man swiped with a blade and Su-Hwan danced away, causing her attacker to lose his balance. Lendra paused, waiting for an opening. Peer did not; he barreled into his sister Chiona, taking her to the pavement with him.

  With Lendra pinned beneath him on the street, he was able to look into her face for the first time. Her expression was oddly bland, her blue eyes glazed, detached. “Lendra,” Peer gasped. “Snap out of it. I’m not wanting to hurt you.”

  She answered him with a head-butt—a blinding explosion of pain to his forehead. He felt her wriggle out from beneath him as he blinked. Once again, Lendra left him prone on the ground and returned her attention to Su-Hwan.

  Peer, kneeling on the street with his palms flat, raised his head to look for his friend. For a moment he couldn’t see her, and fear pinched at his guts. Then he caught sight of movement higher up. He coughed a laugh. Su-Hwan had somehow managed to clamber up a drainpipe. She crouched upon a windowsill on the second story.

  “Blighter,” the other Chisanta hissed. “It’s time. We’ve got to move.”

  Lendra growled in frustration. She glared at Su-Hwan one final time, then ran after her companion.

  Peer wanted nothing more than to roll onto his back, close his eyes, and wait for this sudden burst of nausea to pass. But he needed to know where they were going. How’d they get into the city at all? He dragged himself to his feet.

  “Stay there,” he called to Su-Hwan, then loped up the road after their attackers. They weren’t far ahead of him, but he doubted he could close the distance. Two blocks away, the great clock at the University chimed the hour.

  The two Chisanta came to an abrupt stop just before the Central Accord Public Library. Peer picked up his pace, closing the distance. A distinct pop sounded.

  Peer stumbled. A man had appeared at the top of the marble stair. A stunning, black-haired man, whose expression filled Peer with dread. For a long second he and Quade Asher stared into each other’s eyes. Peer felt the warmth of the man’s dark gaze leak through him. Before he could think, however, Quade grabbed each of his two Chisanta by the nape. In an instant, all three of them were gone.

  Peer stood on the spot, staring stupidly at the place where Quade had been. His pulse slowed. He blinked several times, trying to keep the world in focus.

  “Peer?” Su-Hwan’s voice came from behind him.

  He turned and scanned her up and down. “You okay?” He charged forward and pulled her into a bear hug. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go on alone. Spirits, I thought you were…” He swallowed and released her. “You are alright?”

  “Yes,” she said, though her eyes were wide and her lips lacked their usual color. “But, that man. I think—” she gestured to the lane where they had fought. “I think he—there was a scream…”

  Peer pressed his fingers to his eyes for a moment, then nodded—and winced. “Let’s check it out.”

  They walked with a reluctant gait, until they came back to the place where Su-Hwan had climbed the pipe.

  “There,” she said, pointing to an alleyway.

  Peer took two steps—two steps in which he tried to convince himself that the scream he’d heard might’ve been a bird of some kind, or a cat. But by his third stride, he could see the feet. A child’s feet, two buckled shoes of black patent leather, frilly cream-colored socks. The bottom of a pale-yellow frock.

  By his fifth step, the girl’s body came fully into view. Her doll-like, unseeing blue eyes were fixed on the building to her right. She had been left on a snow bank; blood had painted the white powder beneath her a glaring crimson.

  On her dress, her killer had pinned an elegantly printed numeral ‘two.’

  Peer knelt at her side, solemn. He closed her eyes with unsteady fingers and scooped her into his arms.

  “What now?” Su-Hwan asked. There were tears caught in her lashes, though her face looked as emotionless as ever.

  “We’ll take her to the palace,” Peer said. “If Quade’s killin’ civilians, something’ll need to be done.”

  He trudged in that direction, Su-Hwan trailing at his side. The girl’s body was still warm; he could feel the heat of her blood through his shirt. Somewhere, no doubt, her parents were looking for her. Peer’s throat clenched, and he shied from the thought.

  Retribution. That was a simpler contemplation. He and his confederates—those extraordinary young people u
p at the University—they would see an end to Quade Asher. He only feared how many more innocents might die before that time came.

  Ko-Jin paced before a unit of new recruits, his hand resting on the hilt of Treeblade at his hip. He scrutinized these new soldiers, one by one, as he progressed. Many were holding their wasters upside down, blunt ends facing the snow-crusted grass. Such a novice error might’ve inspired laughter, if circumstances had been different.

  The soldiers stood in formation, dressed in charcoal-gray jackets and trousers. Many darted glances at the palace over Ko-Jin’s shoulder. He knew the gleam of sunlight across those many windows might distract at certain hours, but this was the largest vacant space within the city walls. And besides, he thought with a smirk, they won’t be distracted for long.

  He cleared his throat. “You are here,” he began in a loud voice. He stopped, displeased, when he found that few were listening. An irregular cascade of bows and curtsies rippled through the group of soldiers. Turning, Ko-Jin soon ascertained the source of the disturbance.

  “Good morning, General Sung,” Chae-Na said with a curtsy. She wasn’t dressed like a soldier, but her gown was plain, her hair secured in a long braid down her back. He liked the sight of her hair braided; it gave her the look of a sister Cosanta.

  Ko-Jin bowed as he should. Fernie rushed forward with a waster for the princess, his cheeks flaming. She walked with dignity to the end of the front line, then stood at attention. A flurry of whispers crossed the regiment, and Ko-Jin sighed. This was not going at all as he would like.

  “I trust, Your Highness,” he said in a carrying tone, “that you will be on time in the future.”

  Chae-Na’s eyes glinted—either with amusement or reproach, he couldn’t say—but she inclined her head to him. He turned away.

  “Fernie,” Ko-Jin barked, causing several recruits to start. He suppressed a grin—playing the drill master brought its own joys.