"You grew up in Sheldrake Port?" I questioned with frank curiosity as we navigated the stairs to second tier. We were nearing the door to my living unit, and I was grateful my sister was nowhere in sight. She had walked fast to return home so rapidly. I imagined she was already studying for her exams.
"I did."
"What was the city like? What does the ocean look like? Do you miss it?"
Clay repeated his brilliant smile, and true to my words, I tripped again on a step. He had the grace not to comment but his eyes twinkled. "I do miss the sea. It's beautiful." There was a faraway look in his eyes that told me he wasn't stuck in our stone and dirt city. "There is nothing but water and sky as far as the eye can see. I do not miss the docks or the city itself, though. Visitors from other nations and the seaport cause a lot of chaos. It's nothing like the ordered city we now occupy. In Sheldrake, the representatives from the five Houses are just figureheads and the troth that each citizen pledges to the House of its testing is nothing more than a formality. Not every city outside of Trelaven is the same, only the port because of its transient population. I grew up in the worst area of the port as well. Even after being here for several months, I can still smell fish and the sweat of dirty dock workers." He scrunched his crooked nose. I wondered if he'd broken it in a fight. According to rumor, the docks were a lawless area.
"I would like to see the sea someday," I said wistfully.
"It's the color of your eyes," he said in a voice so low I strained to hear. I glanced at him. He was looking at me with something close to adoration again. His mixed signals confused me. Maybe he liked me but was pledged to someone else? I shook my head at myself in exasperation. People said women were the difficult sex to understand but my experiences of the last few days were disproving that theory.
"Perhaps sometimes." I shrugged. "They change colors."
We approached High Road. The height of the palace cast a shadow and a chill in the air. My gaze found the North Tower, that foreboding block of gray stone where my brother now lived. I shivered, my footsteps faltering again.
"What's wrong?" Clay's voice vibrated through my chest, making me aware of how close we stood. The beard on his chin and jaw was several days’ growth but soft and golden. His form was steady, and I realized my footsteps hadn't just wavered but stopped.
"My brother was taken yesterday," I confessed. More traffic occupied the space around us because of the proximity of the High Road to the most important areas of the city. While I could speak to anyone about Rowan now that he was carefully ensconced in his cushioned prison, it still hurt to mention.
"Taken?" Clay's blonde eyebrows rose in surprise. A prison occupied the dungeons of the palace but it was reserved for the worst of criminals. Small time crooks landed in the holding cells of the Military Quarter. He imagined the worst, and I couldn't blame him. Soul Tenders were called very infrequently.
"He's there, in the North Tower," I pointed with a finger, embarrassed when the digit trembled.
"He was called to serve?" There was neither surprise nor amazement in his voice. My eyes met his again. I couldn't read his reaction.
"If that's what you call it." I sighed and we resumed our walk along High Road. The North Tower's encompassing shadow taunted me as we progressed towards Merchant House.
"You don't believe in Soul Matches?"
"My parents were Soul Matched and they hate each other." I grimaced. "All that matters to me is that my best friend was taken from me and I'll never see him again." My voice broke with sadness, but I didn't cry. I had released all my tears last night. All that remained was a void within my chest.
Clay grunted with frustration and I looked at him in question. His cheeks colored again, a sheepish look on his face. "If you asked me right now what I regret the most about my feet, I would tell you I resent not being able to walk and comfort a beautiful girl at the same time." He nodded his head toward a young couple walking by, their hands intertwined. Several feet further, a man had his arm linked with his partner's.
"It's all right," I soothed, remembering his reaction to my touch earlier. "You don't have to comfort me."
"I want to comfort you because you and your brother were apparently close and you are hurting. I wouldn't comfort you out of obligation."
"You didn't seem to like my touch before," I spouted, my own cheeks burning. Mum often said my mouth ran away from my brain.
Clay laughed, a deep chuckle that twisted heat within my belly. "I didn't pull away because I didn't like your touch, Kiarra," he protested. His voice caressed my name. "My reaction was because I liked your touch too much, and I wasn't sure yet how you were reacting to my infirmity. I didn't want you comforting me out of obligation either."
"Oh," I breathed. His explanation pleased me immensely and I couldn't hide the joy on my face. We neared Merchant House, far too soon for my liking. The glittering facades of the huge banks in the first tier of Merchant Quarter shone in the sunlight. The roar of the marketplace in third and fourth tiers was a distant rumble, even this far away.
"Well then, I guess that's settled." I grimaced. I should really keep my mouth shut instead of trying to fill awkward silences.
"I would say that nothing at all is settled." His eyes were so intense, I found it difficult to hold his gaze. A second later, he came to a stop, his jaw clenching and his eyes hardening. A huge man bore down upon us. I recognized him as the Head of Merchant House, a man I despised. He managed accounts at the City Bank, and I often dealt with him regarding my parent's funds. The way he looked at me always made me feel like he was stripping me naked in his imagination. I choked down disgust, subconsciously edging closer to Clay.
"Master Jackson," the fat man boomed. His form matched his character, making him more unpleasant. His red cheeks jiggled with the exertion of walking. I had been convinced he never left the sanctuary of his office, but here he was. His eyes traveled up and down my body and I shivered in aversion to his wandering, piggish eyes. They suited his demeanor faultlessly. The amount of gold fabric on his form made him look like a bloated sun. "I thought you were directed to tutor the students inclined to enter Merchant House, not impress upon the least suitable candidate. Perhaps you would make a good match, though; neither of you is likely to receive a better prospect."
My hand twitched. I think if Clay hadn't leaned upon his farthest crutch and caught my wrist, I might have slapped the Head across his fleshy cheek. I was accustomed to hearing remarks regarding my imminent fall into Commoner housing, but I didn't appreciate the slight to Clay's own character. There was nothing wrong with him.
Clay's warm, callused hand held mine without any force, forestalling my moment of temper. When he sensed I had my anger under control, he caressed my wrist once with his thumb and released me. His own jaw ticked in anger though. I imagined it took quite a lot to irritate the unflappable young Merchant.
"Miss Walton was kind enough to accompany me to my quarters," Clay said evenly. There wasn't a trace of irritation in his voice and I admired his restraint. I was certain my eyes still spat sparks at the odious man.
"Ah, yes," Master Gregory hummed, smoothing sausage-like fingers over his bald head. The dome dripped with sweat. "The other Miss Walton might have been a better option. I understand she'll be officially joining our ranks after her testing."
Neither Clay nor I responded to the statement. Clay turned to me. He again shifted his weight enough to bend over and brush his lips over my knuckles. He managed the movement with amazing grace, but I was too distracted by the tingle of his lips upon my flesh to notice. "I hope that we will see each other again, Miss Walton. I fear I must now attend to business, however." His voice held a sad tone. I smiled at him, cherishing the appreciation in his eyes. His respect was so different from the disgusting attention of the Head of Merchant House.
"We shall meet again, Master Jackson." I forced all my hope and fondness into my own eyes.
I faced Master Gregory and executed a bow shallow enough that
the action bordered upon insult. "Good day, Master," I intoned and turned on my heel before he had a chance to respond. I didn't care if I angered the fat bastard. The Fates would now play their continuing joke and place me in Merchant House, but I would deal with that debacle if it arose. Retaining the memory of my enjoyable walk before we were disturbed, I turned toward home. I really needed to talk to Mum.
Chapter Eleven
Reed
Reed pushed his fingers through his disheveled hair, his other hand jotting notations in his journal. The short history of the kingdom before the Houses were formed was fascinating. Growing up in Treleaven, one never considered there might be other ways to live. To learn that humans had existed, and even prospered, without the social structure he was so accustomed to, captivated his interest. He had found the book shoved behind others in the stacks and he wasn't certain the title wasn't on the banned list. At the moment, he didn't care. The intriguing, maybe debatable, account offered a moment of respite from studying soil samples and atmospheric changes in regards to hybrid apples.
"What are you reading?"
"Great Saints," Reed swore, jumping a foot from his chair. Seeing his best friend leaning over his shoulder, he swung and punched his brother's bicep. Seb winced, rubbing his arm.
"Damn, Reed, for a lazy Scholar, you certainly pack a punch. I didn't mean to scare you." His tone was amused. Both men knew Reed would beat the Planner in a fair fight, possibly even an unfair fight.
Relieved Seb had found him with the controversial book, and not one of the older Master Scholars, Reed allowed his heart rate to ease back to normal. Seb squinted at him in the low light of the corner Reed had chosen to hide in to read his find. Like an idiot, however, he hadn't been reading facing the room. If he had, he could have observed anyone who approached. He would have made a horrible addition to the Shadow House. Seb picked up the book before Reed made a grab for it. With raised brows, he read the title and whistled low.
"No wonder you were so absorbed," Seb whispered. "Where'd you find this?"
Reed snatched the book and shoved it in his shoulder bag amid the other papers and books. "I found it hidden behind some other books. What time is it?" He changed the subject.
"Time for you to escape this tomb." Seb often retrieved him after his shift completed in Planning House. If he didn't intervene, Reed might study and work the night away without marking the passage of time.
The University library, a building separate from the city library, possessed no windows. A Scholar long ago had deemed sunlight harmful to the ancient manuscripts and research journals stored in the room, so the windows had been bricked up. The Planning House had been convinced the lack of windows would ruin the lines of the building's architecture, so the outside of the building still displayed the bricked in edifices. The effect was a dark, depressing place.
Reed and Seb waited to speak again until they traveled past the ancient librarian and into the halls of the University beyond. The sound suddenly returned in a rush, a hundred footsteps, voices, and flapping robes filled the air as they navigated the crowded corridors.
"So," Reed prodded. Seb appeared uncharacteristically quiet, indicating there was something on his mind. They had been foster brothers since the age of three when Seb's parents had died in a horrible lab accident. They understood each other like twins, being almost identical in age. "What's with the mood? You seem both sad and excited. Did someone you dislike die?"
Seb managed a crooked grin. He had a slight sunburn from his day's activities, the freckles on his nose more prominent than usual. “No. Remember my friend Rowan?"
Though he'd never met the man, Seb had spoken of him often. Reed hadn't been so lucky in his housing arrangements. He hated his roommate. The fact that Seb had acquired a new friend and wasn't missing him as much as Reed missed him had elicited jealousy at first. Seb often visited, though, and Reed reassured himself no one could take his place as Seb's brother. They had over nineteen years of memories, having been friends since they were toddling age.
"I remember you speaking of him," Reed said. "He's Mistress Walton's son. I only met the woman in passing once, but she's brilliant. I've read every treatise she's ever written. I'm actually quite surprised she hasn't reached first tier yet." Reed trailed off. He had a scholarly crush on the woman he'd never met, devouring every research experiment she had ever documented and attending her lectures whenever possible.
"Yes, he is." Seb recaptured Reed's attention. Putting Reed back on track when his mind wandered was an everyday task for Seb. "Rowan was sent to the Soul Tenders tower last evening," Seb imparted to Reed with a lowered voice as they settled into the queue of blue robes trying to leave the building. Reed stared at Seb with raised brows.
"As a Soul Tender?"
"Well, yes, of course. How else does one get into the North Tower?"
Reed shrugged. "Sometimes Commoners choose a life of servitude in the Tower."
"Yes, well Rowan was no Commoner. He was my roommate and destined for great things as a Planner."
Reed slung his arm around Seb's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Seb, I know you were close. You'll have a new roommate to deal with soon." Reed frowned. "That doesn't exactly explain your mood, though." He directed dark blue eyes toward his brother. They were close to the same height, but Reed was far broader than his brother. Their height was the only trait they shared. Whereas Seb was a redhead with pale skin, Reed's hair was dark and his skin tone naturally darker. Still, there were people who mistook them for blood brothers. Neither of them minded in the least. They considered themselves as close as any siblings.
"I was getting to that. How do you suppose I found out about Rowan's new position?" Seb's eyes twinkled and Reed sighed. Seb loved to drag his stories out.
"I don't know. I suppose you are going to tell me about it?"
"Better than that," Seb smirked as they finally emerged into the sunshine. Reed moved off to the side, out of the way of the stampeding herd of workers and students, before he lifted his face to the sun. The heat and light were medicine to his soul. It was the one thing he regretted about being placed into Scholar House. He didn't spend all his time in the library, but he spent a small portion of each day there. Beyond that, almost every day was spent indoors except when he collected soil samples. Seb sometimes stole that duty, however, robbing him of an excuse to be outside.
Seb perched on the lip of the fountain in front of the huge University building, topped in height only by the palace. Reed joined him. In warmer weather, they loitered in one of the green spaces. In worse weather, they'd frequent a pub. Occasionally, they visited their childhood home. Their mother was always happy to greet them, regardless of her other responsibilities. His parents had adopted Seb without question. They had been close to the Graham family and the tragedy affected them all.
Reed could tell Seb had important matters on his mind. He again noted the excited glitter in Seb's hazel eyes and a sense of foreboding tripped down his spine. Seb's schemes were more apt to land Reed in trouble, not Seb.
"What can be better than telling me?" Reed asked warily. Seb's eyes wandered. No one was paying them the least attention, hurrying to their homes or evening activities. The square supported more than one group of chattering students or researchers excited about whatever project they were entrenched within. Reed admired the enthusiasm of those in Scholar House. They enjoyed their work and the pursuit of knowledge.
"We're going to pay Mistress Walton a visit to lend our condolences."
Reed dropped his bag in surprise. The books thumped hollowly on the dirt and he grimaced, glancing about to make certain no one had witnessed the mishap. Mistreating books was frowned upon in Scholar House. He snatched his bag up again.
"Why ever would we do that?" he hissed. "And what makes you think she wants condolences? It's considered an honor to be a Soul Tender."
"Of course it's an honor, Reed. She also just lost her son. I met her daughter this morning, Rowan's sister. She came to infor
m Master Granite that Rowan wouldn't be returning and I intercepted her before she made the announcement. She was upset, noticeably so. She didn't think it was much of an honor and I believe her mother might feel similarly."
Reed rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So this is about a girl?" He tapped a foot, looking upwards at the blue sky. He admired the scuttling cumulus clouds for a moment, letting their puffy indifference infuse him with patience. They seemed to be in no hurry to get where they were going. Perhaps he should take a lesson from them.
"Not just any girl," Seb insisted. Reed looked back at his friend. The excitement had faded, his usually playful face solemn. Reed considered his friend's mood. Seb courted many girls, most of them nothing more than temporary flings. Girls were attracted to his playful, never serious nature but Seb never expressed more than a passing interest in any of them. He’d had a girlfriend for a time, but their relationship had been mostly physical.
Reed's nervousness grew. If Seb had found his Soul Match, he might lose his friend for real. He shouldn't rely on Seb quite so much as his only friend, but it had always been that way. Whereas Seb found it easy to attach to anyone, even if only on a superficial level, Reed had difficulty connecting with anyone except in a working capacity.
"So, do you have a genuine desire to express your condolences or do you just want to see this girl again?" Reed asked.
"Both," Seb admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I have a whole bag of Rowan's personal items left behind in our room. Master Granite asked me to drop them off, not that I would have let him do it anyway. He has the sympathy of a rock." Seb laughed at his own joke. He'd made similar jokes regarding his teacher's name so many times Reed had lost count. Seb pointed to the pack on his shoulder. Reed rarely noticed such things. His attention was focused inward rather than outward.
Pieces of Her Soul Page 9
