by T. C. Edge
“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 more 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 t
ime 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.”
“Thanks again for understanding, Sophie. I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”
I suspect that her eagerness to maintain some involvement in my courtship with Adryan is to get some additional prestige herself. She has passion for her work, I’ll give her that.
However, what she doesn’t know is that this is all just a sham. Sure, I’ll have to go through official channels to ensure my budding ‘relationship’ with Adryan doesn’t appear suspicious, but other than that I have little interest in doing anything more than I have to.
When it comes to it, I’m sure I’ll be able to fit in over there easily enough. So far, there’s been no danger. When my abilities manifest, however, and I’m over in the lion’s den, I’ll have my wits about me at all times.
No coaching from Sophie is going to change that.
So, with another abbreviated embrace, I’m set on my way. I step into the car, shut the door, and am chauffeured back home.
Home.
Soon, I’m sure, that word will take on a new meaning.
36
It’s odd how a place you’ve lived your entire life can suddenly seem like the house of a stranger.
The comfort and security I used to feel stepping through the doors of Carmichael’s are no longer present. No longer do I look upon it as a beacon in the city, a place where I can relax and truly be myself.
Now, like everywhere else I go, I feel like an imposter. Like my life is a lie, and always has been.
At the core of it, I’m beginning to feel like I don’t belong.
And that being myself is an alien concept too. Because, really, I don’t know who I am either.
Tess’s continued chagrin doesn’t help. Since we were girls, we’ve been best friends, despite our different personalities and outlooks on the world. Thrust together by Mrs Carmichael, we’ve even grown into sisters. It pains me that our paths are now diverging so dramatically.
She was only 9 years old when she came here following the deaths of her parents. Deaths, I suppose, is putting it lightly.
They were murdered, and brutally so. Cut down in front of her during a robbery. I can barely imagine what that must be like for a girl of such a young age, how it would scar her. And when she first came here, she wasn’t the girl she is today.
She was a shadow, and little more. She drifted about the place, keeping mostly to herself, lost to her thoughts and terrible nightmares. I was charged by Mrs Carmichael with becoming a shadow myself: a shadow to her, following her around and helping her transition into life at the academy.
It was so different for her than it was for me. She’d had a taste of a normal life, felt the love of her true parents before it was snatched away so violently. I always considered that I had it much easier. I’d never had to taste such pain, suffer the loss of those who’d given me life.
Some people consider never having known your parents the worst of all fates. I disagree. Never have I seen someone so broken as when Tess first came here. Her world had been stripped away, never to be the same again.
Gradually, however, she emerged from her shell. Yet always she’s kept her hard edge, one forged that day her parents died. Tough and uncompromising, Tess has always found it difficult to find joy in anything.
And she’s always had a fondness for holding a grudge.
This one seems set to last a while. In the past our arguments have been brief, Tess’s frosty moods lasting a day or two before thawing. Yet until I explain to her how my life is changing – how I am changing – I suspect her rancour will remain, brewing and festering inside her.
And in the academy, I feel that winter chill descending. When I return to my room, my head starting to throb once more, my eyes praying for darkness, I find her descending back into shadow, coiled on her bed like a snake ready to strike.
The darkness inside her, always simmering beneath the surface, is rising once more to the fore.
I try to warm up the atmosphere with a simple: “Hey.”
She glares at me and returns the word, her tone very different from mine. Dark and empty.
I move towards my bed and settle in, desiring for the first time in many years that I could have a room to myself. I sense her watching me as I wearily undress and creep under the covers, wishing for sleep. Wishing for this pain in my head to go away.
I wish, too, for her to speak again. To ask me, perhaps, how the ball went. Or why I have little cuts all over my forehead.
No questions come. Definitive proof, if ever I needed it, that she has no feeling for me right now. No caring. No sympathy. No interest at all.
I lie there for a while, feeling swamped by the silence, wanting to draw her from her shell as I once did. Questions form and fade away. My voice begins to rise before being doused.
Then, lying with my eyes to the wall, to the empty space where the picture of my parents used to be, I hear the door click open, and then click shut. I let out a long breath, let my eyes relax and shut.
And fall into a long and dreamless sleep.
When I wake, I check my watch to find that a new day has dawned. I turn over and see Tess’s bed empty, a sight that gives me some relief. I sit up, and reach to my forehead, sliding my fingers across the skin.
It’s mostly clear, with only the lingering signs of the cuts remaining. The healing cream that Mrs Carmichael administered has worked its magic.
Behind the cuts, and the skin, and the flesh and skull, however, my brain continues to hum and drum. The unyielding cacophony refuses to relent, my mind being twisted and turned inside out, stretched this way and that as it battles to bring forth my true self.
I sway my eyes around the room, and find my vision struggling to focus. My heart thuds hard as I turn to the door, and my eyes shoot forward and centre on the handle, over five metres away and yet appearing as it it’s right in front of my nose.
I shake my head, my brain rattling, and blink hard. When I open my eyes my focus has drawn back again, the full picture of the room coming into view. And yet, it’s different than before, my eyes offering a wider profile. Staring forward, I can see further left and right, my peripheral vision altered and improved.
Once more, I blink, and find my eyes zooming in again against my control, shooting forward and forging a path right for a little crack on the wall. In mere moments the crack grows into a giant crevice before my eyes, like a canyon cut into the dried earth of the desert.
I take a sudden breath and push back against the wall behind me, clattering hard against it. Such is the force and speed of my movement that the room seems to shake a little, dust drifting down from the ceiling above.
I cough as it swamps me, and my focus pulls back again, returning to normal. I shut my eyes tight, blocking everything out, and feel the tingling, buzzing feeling in my limbs. They shake and tremble, my muscles so sore and stiff.
What’s happening to me? I groan to myself.
It’s a foolish question, and I know the answer. Yet this is more than I could have imagined, my body altering so fast, my physical make-up morphing and evolving at a rate I could never have expected.
Then, deep inside my head, echoing from the distant recesses of my consciousness, I hear a voice calling out.
I grimace and squeeze my eyelids shut as tightly as I can manage, and let my throat grumble to drown out the voice in my head.
It fades away like a wisp of mist on the wind, evaporating into the back of my mind.
I lie down again, still as I can, trying to stay calm. Gradually, my body settles, and my shallow, abbreviated breathing begins to soothe. And as my pulse settles too, I hear a sudden knock at the door.
I nearly have a heart attack.
My eyes flash open again and lock quickly on the door handle.
“Who is it?” I stutter anxiously.
The voice on the other side is too quiet I can barely hear it.
I ask again, calling louder this time.
The door opens, and I watch as the little face of Abby tentatively slips through the opening.
I immediately relax upon seeing her, my frame deflating back onto the bed.
“Abby,” I breathe. “What are you doing up here?”
She stays half in, half out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Brie. Did I wake you?”
“No, no. Come in.”
She slides her skinny little form through the gap, before pushing the door shut. I scan her quickly, my vision still threatening to thrust forward at any moment, before shutting my eyes tight to calm the beast within.
Was that a letter I saw in her hand?
When I open up one eye and peek through, I see Abby looking at me curiously.
“Are you OK?”
“Fine. I’m just fine.”
I open the eye fully, and then the other. My vision is just about playing ball.
She creeps forward and lifts her fingers. She does have a letter.
Zander…
“Is that for me?” I ask.
She nods and holds the letter out with both hands.
“It was the same boy as before,” she says. “No one saw me. I promise.”
“Good girl. Remember, you’re my sidekick.”
Her little cheeks swell and brighten.
“Always, Brie!” she says.
I waste no time in tearing the letter open and unfolding the contents. I frown as I look upon the words. There are only four of them.
