What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  It was such a waste for all these children to perish like this. The boys should have had a chance to die as Greens. It was our way.

  “Helion’s shadow,” Stenesso said. “It’s a good thing we set marshals to guard the house, or we could have dead ascor children littered all around town. The bloody Bellangers couldn’t even do this right.” He kicked a body out of his way and moved down the hallway.

  He was right. They should have taken care of the children’s deaths before seeing to their own. Cenarro and I followed Stenesso as he led us to the base of the stairs. Through a far doorway, I could see four men collapsed over a Harmony board. Playing the game until the very end—that, I could understand. It would have been a fine way to go, if they hadn’t left dead children strewn about.

  “Why do we have to go through here?” Stenesso asked, looking about. “They’re all dead—the marshals could have told us that.”

  “You still haven’t grasped it,” Cenarro said. “One of the four families is no more. One of the cornerstones of our society has toppled, and you seem to think it’s no more than a few escay dying in the fighting Eye.”

  “You live in the past,” Stenesso said. “There were four ascor families; now there are three. Death comes to all things.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t understand how Stenesso could think like that. We were elected Guardians, with a duty to mind not just our own families, but all the ascor, plus the lower classes—the marshals and the escay. We were responsible for the health of the whole of Arcandis society. Losing the Bellangers—who knew what ramifications that would cause?

  Was this a failing of our way of life? I wondered. Each family schemed against the others—that was what the ascorim was all about. But balance was maintained due to each family being equally powerful and equally adept at the ascorim. The Green Path ensured that only the best of our sons survived to become ascor. It shouldn’t have been possible for a whole family to collapse.

  We climbed the stairs. The wood creaked at every step. Many of the candles had been knocked down and extinguished. The remaining ones weren’t bright enough to chase away the gloom; they sent shadows fluttering into the corners. Portraits of ancient Bellanger Guardians lined the stairwell. Their previously noble and aloof countenances now seemed filled with scorn. A solitary table held a white vase, patterned with spiraling blue ivy, that had somehow not been knocked over. The flowers it held were withered and blackened.

  When we reached the landing, Stenesso pushed open one of the bedroom doors, made a disgusted noise, and shut it again. I got a brief glimpse of intertwined corpses in a four-poster bed draped with white lace. “Bowe Bellanger died as he lived,” he said. “Pursuing his own gratification above all else.”

  That wasn’t fair. Bowe Bellanger had been a fine leader until the moment of crisis. But when his family really needed him, he’d proven himself unworthy. What had seemed like a small food shortage had swiftly deteriorated and events had overwhelmed the Bellanger family. And once they became destitute—it had been shockingly sudden at the end—the family had no option except to commit suicide. But for seeing to his own pleasure while poisoned children ran amok—I felt some of Stenesso’s distaste for the Bellanger Guardian.

  “Kesirran, you’ve been here more often than me—you know layout. Where else will we find bodies?” Stenesso asked.

  I almost smiled. That was what the game—the ascorim—was all about: little barbs associating me with the Bellanger family as they lay dead around us. I found it strangely comforting. The ascorim went on; there was no true end here. Of course, it seemed Stenesso knew where everything was better than me; he’d even known the location of Bowe Bellanger’s bedroom. As I was about to defend myself, I heard something. In a house of the dead, the smallest sound seems magnified.

  “What was that?” I asked. We waited a moment in silence until I thought I had imagined it. Then a baby started crying, followed by a loud crash.

  We followed the baby’s cries down the hallway to a part of the mansion I had never been in before. Stenesso led the way in long strides. By the time I reached him, Stenesso held the baby aloft, his fist gripping the back of the baby’s white clothes. The baby, facedown, roared, kicking and punching at the air while blood seeped from several wounds. Below him were shards of porcelain from a broken vase. Stenesso shook him. “Look, they’re not all dead. Bellangers are as hard to get rid of as rebellious escay.” He pulled his knife from his belt.

  Cenarro sucked in air. “What are you doing? You can’t just kill him.”

  I turned sharply toward Cenarro. For once, I was on Stenesso’s side. There was no choice here.

  “That’s a Bellanger child,” Cenarro said. “We don’t have the right to kill him. Give him to me.” Stenesso was too surprised to react as Cenarro took the baby and cradled him. The baby continued to struggle and cry.

  “We’ve just waded through scores of the little buggers. Another corpse won’t make a difference,” Stenesso said.

  “None of the rest were murdered. As a family, the Bellangers decided on mass suicide.” Cenarro rubbed blood from the baby’s cheeks. As he did so, I noticed that Cenarro wore a ring with a sapphire on it. I must have been terribly distracted to not notice that before. Why would he wear the Bellanger gemstone on this night?

  “The Bellangers made a mistake that we have to correct. He was meant to die,” Stenesso said.

  “If he was meant to die, he would be dead.”

  “Don’t bandy words with me. You know what has to be done.”

  “Yes. And I’m doing it.” Cenarro held out the child to me and I took him instinctively.

  I should have calculated first. I played the ascorim in my sleep; I never did anything without thinking it through. And yet, there I was, holding the baby. I could still have handed him to Stenesso. But Cenarro knew me well—I preferred to let events follow their course when possible rather than change them. Everyone who played the ascorim had their style, and this was mine. Handing the baby to Stenesso was different from not interfering.

  Stenesso’s grin disappeared as he realized Cenarro wasn’t joking, and might even have an ally. “You can’t agree with him,” he said to me.

  “No…I don’t know.” Letting him live seemed a needless complication. But I feared the vacuum created by the missing family. I knew one child wouldn’t make any real difference, but maybe it would seem less final: make it feel like the Bellanger family was not gone for good.

  “Will you take him in?” Cenarro asked me. “Let him grow up in your family and he can become a Green in his time like the rest? That will decide if he’s meant to live or die.” It was clear now that Cenarro had taken the loss of the fourth ascor family even worse than I did. Wearing the sapphire ring was his way of showing solidarity with them, and now he saw a chance to help them.

  “He’ll have no friends, only enemies. He’ll have no hope on the Path.” But even as I said that, letting him live seemed right. It was the ascor way: let the Green Path decide who lived and who died. That would be a much more fitting end to the Bellangers.

  Stenesso growled. He could see from my expression that I was coming around to Cenarro’s way of thinking, and that he was outvoted. “We don’t even know the kid’s name. He could have been spawned by any of them.”

  “Does it matter?” Cenarro asked. The baby’s cries had quieted now, as if he understood that the danger was over.

  “Let’s call him Bowe, after the last great Bellanger leader,” Stenesso said. “You know, the one presently rotting away in his grave of female flesh.”

  “Very well,” I said. “Bowe, the last Bellanger. I’ll rear him at Raine Mansion. He’ll live until his first day as a Green.”

  Chapter 1

  51 Days Left

  Purple light washed across the cityscape. Bowe Bellanger leaned against the railing on the highest balcony of Raine mansion, thinking of what was to come. He knew death to be a small thing, a simple stepping off the Path. And still he couldn’t stop
fear from infecting his thoughts and tearing at his gut.

  Footsteps sounded from behind and Vitarr joined him on the balcony, leaning down alongside him. “I’ve been searching for you. Dinner is already on the table.” There wasn’t much room on the balcony, and Vitarr was half a head taller than Bowe and much broader. He had a thickness to his body that encompassed his arms, legs and shoulders, but also included his nose, brow, and ears. Bowe tended to shy away from human contact, but Vitarr was an exception. He took comfort in the way their arms touched.

  Bowe stared up at Helion, the purple moon that dominated the night sky. It was now over twice the size of the sun. It was to blame for what was to come, but it was pointless to curse at a heavenly body. It came every six years, and they had to deal with the consequences. He wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Ever think about what might have been?” Vitarr gestured at the silhouette of the uninhabited Bellanger mansion off in the distance.

  “I’d likely be enjoying my dinner over there rather than feeling sorry for myself here.” Bowe took a deep breath and stepped back off the balcony and headed down the corridor. “I guess hiding isn’t going to delay what will happen. Might as well get fed.”

  Vitarr followed, clapping Bowe on the back. “That’s the attitude. Tomorrow, we can both step off the Path and leave our troubles behind. At least the heat will stop bothering us.”

  “Before or after cremation?” Bowe asked with a grin. “Anyway, I’m stepping off the Path tomorrow; don’t count yourself out so quickly.”

  “Ha. I have less chance than you,” Vitarr said. “At least you are skilled at Harmony. The Guardians admire that.”

  “You can’t win the who-has-less-chance-on-the-Path game against me. I’ve been earmarked to be bottom of the lists for twelve years.” Bowe kept it out of his voice, but that blasted fear began to creep through his body again. The lists were controlled by the bet-takers and showed the odds of survival for each Green.

  “Right now, I’m low on the lists myself. I know everyone expects the mentors to kill you off on the first day.” Vitarr hurried through the last part of his remark, then his voice turned serious. “If they don’t, though, you have the qualities to survive the Green Path. What do I have?”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve been protecting me from bullies as far back as I can remember. You’re strong. And you’re older than most—you turned sixteen ages ago, while I’m barely thirteen. You have every chance.” Bowe put as much confidence as he could muster into his voice, but he could see that Vitarr didn’t believe him. His insides twisted at the look of sadness and resignation that shadowed across Vitarr’s features.

  Then the shadow was gone and Vitarr grinned. “Hurry up. Whichever of us bites it first, we both deserve a good last meal. Come on, we should hurry. Likely, the rest of the Greens have eaten the best food by now.” He was never one to dwell on negative thoughts.

  Bowe could do enough dwelling for both of them. Not that it did any good. Vitarr didn’t have Reyanu’s quickness of thought, or Tlirris’s quickness of body. A few years ago, Vitarr had been bigger than most boys his age, but now most of the others had caught up and made short work of him on the training grounds. His strength and size no longer made up for being slow and clumsy. Bowe needed to survive to help his friend. And for that, Ariastiana seemed to be their only hope right now. Only she seemed colder than ever lately.

  It was unusual to eat in the ballroom, but there was no chance of the Greens treating the occasion with any kind of decorum. The raucous commotion could be heard long before they reached the entrance. Bowe felt like he needed to push his way through the wave of noise at the doorway.

  Inside, the tables were overflowing with wine and food. None of the boys sat on their chairs. Some stood, some sat on tables. In one corner, five boys were involved in a general melee of shouting, shoving, and pushing. Most of the chairs were overturned. Bowe had expected mayhem, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Though maybe he should have. Put thirty teenage boys in a room with food and drink, then add the knowledge that it could be their last meal, and mix in an amnesty on bad behavior—if that wasn’t a recipe for anarchy, Bowe didn’t know what was. Though perhaps the Greens should have been showing more restraint. At the head table, Kesirran, the Raine Guardian, and his chief wife, Ariastiana, watched everyone and everything.

  As they walked in, Bowe brushed against one of the escay girls bringing out empty plates. His skin crawled. He hated touching the lower classes. He shot a glare at her departing back before following Vitarr.

  They found a free place at one of the tables, but had to duck errant flying vegetables from a food fight to reach it. They righted the overturned chairs and sat. Wine from overturned pitchers stained large amounts of the tablecloth. Half-eaten carcasses of chicken and other cuts of meat lay scattered across the tables and the floor. The evening’s dinner was everywhere except on the plates.

  Vitarr reached for an upright pitcher and Bowe knocked his hand away. “Eat the food, leave the wine be.” They needed to be clearheaded and ready to grasp at every sliver of hope to have any chance.

  “Come on, Bowe, this could be our last night. If now isn’t the time to enjoy ourselves, I don’t know when is.”

  “When we have safety survived the Green Path.” Bowe’s voice was firm.

  Vitarr growled in the back of his throat as he knifed a leg of pork off the table and onto his plate.

  Bowe glanced at the head table. Kesirran’s head was bowed, but his eyes darted back and forth. His head held only wisps of white hair, and his skin, yellowed and cracked like ancient parchment, hung loose from his face. Bowe wasn’t going to risk getting drunk in front of the Raine Guardian, and he wouldn’t let Vitarr do so, either. Kesirran was an old, but far from senile. He was a man of enormous power and influence as leader of one of the three remaining ascor families. Well, three if Bowe didn’t include his own family, the Bellangers, which currently contained a precarious total of one member.

  Beside him, Ariastiana held her mouth in a disapproving pout and stared over the boys’ heads. She had straight black hair that reached halfway down her back. Her glittering black eyes reminded Bowe of a large beetle he had once seen. They could have been twins—if the beetle’s face had been plastered with heavy white foundation. Ariastiana always held her head steady, not allowing her makeup to crack. Her face was thin and she was one of the least plump of all the wives in the harem. Despite the frown, she must have been delighted to be here. Rumors that she was too old to remain as chief wife had been circulating, and the fact that she now sat beside Kesirran was a public reinforcement of her position.

  Bowe glanced up at the window and saw Helion again, and he scowled at it. Every day it increased in size and pushed them closer to the sun. The heat would increase until it became unbearable. The Infernam. Only those who claimed a place in the Refuge, could survive those two weeks.

  And that was why impressing Kesirran was so important. Everyone in Arcandis had their own narrowing Path to the Refuge but the Green Path was reserved for the sons of the ascor between the ages of twelve and seventeen. Only six Greens would survive, and one of those would be selected by the Raine Guardian.

  Vitarr gave Bowe a nudge and put some slices of pork and a roast potato on his plate. Bowe picked up a fork and ate mechanically, looking around for the important Greens. Reyanu leaned against a wall, surrounded by his friends. He had blond hair, a handsome face, and natural charm. Reyanu was holding a goblet in his hand, but did not appear to be drinking. Now that Bowe looked more closely, most of the boys high on the lists were keeping themselves under control. Except Tlirris—the Raine Greens’ best fighter—who was red-faced. He was angry, too, clearly annoyed at Phevan, who was badgering him. That was unusual. No one messed with Tlirris, and Phevan was a small and clever boy, not one to get into fights.

  A nearby pitcher moved and Bowe grabbed Vitarr’s arm to stop him from dragging it closer.

  “Come o
n, give a boy a break. Last meal and all that.” Vitarr gave a lopsided grin.

  “Have you noticed that Reyanu and the other important Greens aren’t drinking much? Kesirran watches everything.”

  “You mistake me for someone high on the lists.” Vitarr sighed. “Never won an argument with you yet. Fine, have it your way.” He gestured to some food farther up the table. “That appears to be cake—want some?” What Vitarr pointed at was a jumbled lump of pastry and cream that looked like a face had been planted in it. Or a foot.

  Bowe looked at the pastry and then back at Vitarr to make sure he was serious, then studied the mess of food that could once have been cake again before rolling his eyes. “I’m good.”

  Vitarr muttered under his breath as he scraped some cake off the table and into a plate. Something about how Bowe wouldn’t know how have fun in a courtesan house with a fistful of gold coins.

  Bowe continued to chew on the pork. The food tasted of ash, but this might be the last time he’d have a chance to eat so easily. Ariastiana was looking at Reyanu. Her expression was almost the same as earlier, but a slight upward crook of her lips had changed the disapproving smirk into a smug smile. None of Ariastiana’s other sons had survived the Path, and she showed obvious satisfaction at seeing Reyanu, her youngest, ranked highest among the Raine Greens and surrounded by likely Defenders.