29

Ash

The sound of the ocean lulls me as I float in a current of dreams, weightless, guileless, until the tide pulls me under. I thrash and flail, crying out for help as water pours down my throat, filling my lungs. I’m sinking deeper and deeper.

“Ash, wake up.”

My eyes fly open and I gulp in a breath.

“You’re safe.” Piper leans over me, holding my arms. “You’re in Aku.”

I search her face, my heart pounding. A few more breaths and the nightmare slips down a dark hole, leaving only gurgling shadows behind. It is no wonder my sleep is haunted. Any one of the dozens of horrors that befell us on the way to Aku could be to blame.

“That was a bad one,” Piper says, pushing her shiny black braids out of her face. They’ve been redone and are now secured with tiny orange beads that match her robes. She looks rested and as beautiful as ever.

“Marcus?” Fear floods my veins again.

“He’s fine. Belair, too.”

“But I have to record the—”

“They haven’t started yet.”

I expel a deep breath. Piper sits back on the other bed, adjusting the colorful pillows as if returning to her spot. The room is sunny and warm and the air smells sweet in a wintery way, like cinnamon apple pie baking in the kitchen. Gulls cry outside the large window. There are no treetops or branches to see—only pale blue sky and starch-white clouds.

“Samsen?” I stretch and yawn, forming my next question before she answers. And Kaylin? Where is he?

“Samsen’s in the dining hall. Waiting for us.”

I nod my head, not quite able to ask about Kaylin. I’ll know soon enough if he’s still here.

I try to remember going to bed. We were shown to our rooms, stripped out of filthy clothes, given towels and led to the most extraordinary communal bath. I touch my hair. It feels smooth and silky and smells of rosewater. At least that wasn’t a dream. I remember being massaged, too, my cuts and scrapes treated. There was a large meal as well. “I think I fell asleep after dinner.”

“You did, and it’s now lunchtime the next day.”

“I’ve been out that long?”

Piper nods.

I throw back the covers. “Toilet?”

“You have your own. Through that door.” Piper hands me a dressing gown made of a soft, quilted fabric and I slip it on over my underthings.

“Thank you.”

The gown is black with a magnificent blue peacock embroidered on the back. I tie the belt. “I won’t be long.”

A bell tolls three times and Piper calls out, “You missed morning ritual.”

“Morning what?” I say from the toilet.

“Morning ritual. Everyone meets on the training field at first bell, and I mean everyone, from the High Savant to the groundskeeper’s youngest child.”

“For?”

“A moment’s meditation followed by what they call dynamics.”

“Sounds like exercise.”

“That’s putting it mildly. It makes my physical defense class look like a catnap.” Piper gives a little laugh. “Samsen and I wanted to give a little warning on what to expect…but other things got in the way.”

“Didn’t they just?” I grumble.

Piper grins. “Meet us in the dining hall when you’re dressed. I’ll save you a place.”

“Where’s that?”

“Downstairs, west wing. Follow the aromas. There is much to discuss.”

I find my travel clothes clean and folded on top of a chest at the foot of my bed. Next to them is a pale turquoise top made of the same quilted fabric as the robe, only more tailored. I hold it up to the full-length mirror. It’s beautiful. The hem falls below my knees, covering the black drawstring pants that go with it. It must be what non-savant wordsmiths wear on Aku. I dress, but just as I pull the top over my head, I hear a loud tap at the window. Quickly shoving arms into sleeves, I turn to face it. “Hello?” Is someone in the room? I look behind. “Kaylin?”

From the corner of my eye, I catch a shadow outside. On instinct, I freeze. “Who’s there?” Inside me pressure rises in waves, welling from my feet to the top of my head. My fists ball and raise as a shadow moves across the sill. A second later, it disappears.

It takes a full minute before I can relax my hands to open the side pane and look out. I catch a faint scent. Unidentifiable, but a bit musty.

Two stories below is a narrow lane, empty save for an unhitched wagon and some garbage bins. Along one side is a wooden fence weighed down with honeysuckle vines. The leaves are late autumn gold. The trumpet-shaped flowers give off a sticky, sweet fragrance.

My forehead prickles with sweat. No one could climb the wall. It’s flagstone, a dark red, hard-textured rock bonded in place with mortar. The window ledge is narrow and covered with bird droppings.

Am I imagining things?

My inner voice doesn’t answer.

It’s another moment before I can close and lock the window and go to brush out my hair, putting it in a ponytail. Most of it stays in place. The clothes fit perfectly. It’s a new look for me, and I like it. The cuffs are narrow and held together with tiny hooks and eyes. They can be rolled up or left down—either way, they won’t interfere with the business of scribing.

“The records,” I say to myself in the mirror. I have to catch up. But first, breakfast, or rather, lunch. Next to the door, I find my boots, clean and dry. I slip them on and go in search of the dining hall.

The stairs run along a two-story-high wall decorated with murals. I want to breathe it all in, but I’m too close to the images to appreciate the full scope. Still, there are large cresting waves, the peaks taking the shape of swooping eagles, galloping horses, and leaping wolves. The smaller waves look like snowcapped hills, and in the background, tall ships sail past. The masts are hidden in the spray and clouds, but I can see a hint of black sail. Is that possible? The thought gives me shivers but stare as I might, I can’t be sure.

And then I momentarily forget all else as I spot Aku’s first whistle bone hanging above the mural. They call it the Crown of Er—one of the original twelve whistle bones from the skeleton of King Er, as the story goes. It’s carved from the jaw and represents the first lot or “way” to An’awntia: strength in oneself alone. On it is etched a ram with long, curved horns, symbolizing the urge to charge forward into life. Stake one’s claim. Stand one’s ground. I take a deep breath and sigh.

“Powerful, isn’t it?”

Oh yes.

I keep going until the stairwell joins another coming from the opposite end of the hall. They merge like a forked stream and spiral down to the portico below. With a hand resting lightly on the railing, I pause to take in the view.

The foyer ceiling towers high above my head. On one side, pillars hold up open archways with steps leading down to the main street. The trees lining it are bare, but I imagine the blossoms in spring. Savants stride into the building from the street, all in their colored robes. So many of them. And phantoms, too. It’s like a festival down there!

A woman in yellow robes hurries up the steps. She’s leading the way for two young green-robed students. One is a girl with her phantom up. It’s in the form of a sprite—short legs, pointy ears, and a very large grin. Behind her is a pale-haired, pale-skinned boy. No phantom, but wait! On second glance, I see it, hovering like a shadow, undulating around the folds of his robe, emanating sparks of blue light.

I’m still marveling at the sights when out from the hall strides another green-robe boy carrying a satchel full of books. Beside him is a strange green mist that ripples in and out of every shape it touches, an alter for sure. One moment it’s a stair step, then a banister, then a perfect replica of an orange-robe master heading in the other direction. Trotting behind the master is a doglike phantom that barks at the mist. A caller, I’m guessing. Too small for a warrior and it has quite strong vocals.

This is spectacular.

“Look up,” my inner voice warns.

I do, and find myself gazing into the keen eyes of an elderly woman standing several steps above me. She wears a white robe with black trim on the hem and cuffs. It’s quilted and close-fitting, with a flare from the waist to the floor. Her hair is white, and her handsome face crinkles as she smiles.

“Good day.” I make a curtsy. “I’m newly arrived to Aku,” I add when she doesn’t speak.

“Are you surprised by what you see?” She nods to the savants and phantoms passing below us.

“I must say, I’m impressed. Such a mix of robes, and even the young ones keeping their phantoms up, for a time at least.” She pauses so long I add, “Being non-savant myself…”

“Nonsense,” she says with a grin and steps down to my level. “We find on the Isle of Aku, the students learn best by keeping their phantoms up for longer and longer periods of time.” She opens her arm to another group of students passing below. “Builds endurance.”

“You won’t want to do that with Marcus Adicio, I promise.” I hold my hand out to the odd woman. “I’m Ash, wordsmith and recorder for the Heir of Baiseen, and also for Belair Duquan of Tangeen.”

“You may call me Talus. Welcome to the Sanctuary of Aku.”

Her hand feels quite cool to the touch. Talus? The name is familiar, but I can’t place it. The only thing I know for certain is that this woman could be a savant of the highest order. When she speaks, it’s like all of Aku belongs to her.

“Talus.” I dip my head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

Talus chuckles. “You might like this, for the fountain.” She offers me a large coin of burnished copper.

“Thank you!” I stand for far too long, simply admiring it. Everyone knows about the ritual of students making a wish at Aku’s sacred fountain. I didn’t know non-savants could as well. “I do have a wish or two in me.”

“My, you do, don’t you?”

My head snaps up. She speaks in riddles, I think.

“I’ll see you in the library, Ash?”

“I look forward to it.”

She heads down the stairs and out into the busy thoroughfare where I spot more savants with raised phantoms heading for the training field.

I pocket the coin, wondering what kind of phantom Talus raises. Something powerful for sure, maybe even a warrior.

At the bottom of the stairs, the foyer is nearly empty except for an orange-robed woman with a phantom walking beside her, a twin, if not for the blue skin and green hair. I follow at a distance, passing by reading nooks set up with window seats and study tables. Most are recently vacated, pillows in disarray, teacups drained, and only crumbs left on the plates.

I hope the kitchen is still open.

“Hurry then.”

I run-walk the rest of the way to the dining hall only to hesitate at the wide-open doors. The sheer noise rattles me, with at least a hundred students gathered around tables, all eating and talking at once. There are a few phantoms up, too, some in meditative poses, some clearly standing guard. No one notices me, not yet, and suddenly I don’t want them to.

“You’ve every right to be here.”

Indeed. But my feet don’t budge.

“Ash, you are the recorder to the Heir of Baiseen. All give way before us.”

I stifle a laugh. All give way? It’s a ridiculous statement, but just the encouragement I need to enter the hall.

And what a hall! It’s not just noisy but frantic as students seem blazes-bent on dispatching their food. Have they no manners? Some still line up to be served, but those in their seats shovel down fish, potatoes, and greens like there’s no tomorrow. And boisterous? Between mouthfuls, they talk to one another, and over one another, without pause. Where is the “midday silence” we observe in Baiseen?

“Not here.”

On tiptoe, I spot Piper and Samsen across the room, three rows up and one over. I weave my way to them. Samsen smiles, his mouth full. He looks a lot better than the last time I saw him. As a matter of fact, his fair hair positively shines. “Got all the mud out, I see.”

“And you, too.” Samsen’s dressed in a quilted, yellow robe with the image of an albatross on the back. Quite fitting. “Sit down. The food is good.”

He and Piper resume eating, but not frantically like the rest of the room. “What’s their rush?”

“They have to be back at training by seventh bell,” Piper says, taking a leisurely drink from her cup. “Five minutes, by my count.”

“I miss noonday silence,” I say, looking at the serving line.

Samsen shrugs. “They forego it because the training here is so intensive. Students need to let the steam out, as they say.”

“And they don’t have any other time to socialize,” Piper adds. “It’s all very competitive.”

As I nod, a rush of air at the back of my neck distracts me. When I turn around, nothing stands out. “Where are Marcus and Belair?”

“In the infirmary. Still sleeping.” Piper takes a bite of bread, smiles, and passes it to Samsen.

My face falls. “Don’t they need to be at it now, if it’s so competitive?”

“Their success depends on it. But they must recover on their own first. It’s protocol.”

That’s news to me. “But what if they are injured here, while competing?”

“I’m sure they will be, and healers will see to them, if there are breaks or cuts,” Piper says. “But a healer must not boost their stamina or endurance. That they have to gain on their own.” She stands. “Fish and tubers?”

“Oh yes, thank you.”

“Part of training is building strength with no help from elixirs or potions,” Samsen says as Piper heads for the serving line.

It has thinned and there’s no wait. When she returns, I take my bowl, savoring each bite. Samsen’s right; the food is good.

“My question to you, Ash,” Samsen goes on, “is why aren’t you in a little more hurry? You’re starting over with the recording, for both Marcus and Belair, right?”

“I’ll catch up fast.” It’s the one thing I’m not worried about, however… “Do you think Marcus is all right? I mean, his phantom was so…” My voice drops away and I look down, concentrating on my food.

“So savage on Mount Bladon?” Piper keeps her voice low as well.

I nod. “It was the first time I saw it held to solid form.”

“A shock, agreed,” Samsen says. “But he saved us from capture, torture, and likely death. The beast is a warrior, after all.”

I agree but internally wonder, At what price to Marcus? He hunts, of course, but has never killed a man, until yesterday. Even recounting the incident with his father and the Aturnian spies seemed to make him feel sick. And then, on Mount Bladon, he tossed two dozen scouts off the path in half as many minutes. I shudder. “It’s not in his nature.”

“I disagree,” Samsen says. “If it’s in the phantom, it’s in the savant.”

“Smart boy, that Samsen.”

“Don’t worry, Ash.” Piper pats my hand. “We’re safe on Aku, and he’ll have all the support and training he needs.”

“If he passes,” Samsen says, a bit ominously.

“Passes what?” All the focus was on getting to Aku and, now that we are here, I realize I’ve yet to be told what happens next.

“The elimination trial. At the end of the first seven days is a culling. Some will be sent home, asked to return next year to try again.”

“But next year is too late for Marcus.” Panicked, I make to rise, ready to sprint off to tell him.

Samsen waves me down. “He’s been informed by now. And really, the elimination trial is more about potential than skill. Once he passes the first week, he trains for the duration. Then he’s awarded his yellow robes, or not.”

I stare, my mouth open. “As recorder, I should have been aware of the elimination trials.”

“And you are now.”

I have an indignant retort ready but keep my mouth shut. It’s all part of the initiation…but I think the secrecy surrounding the process leaves a lot to be desired.

“Finish your food,” Piper says. “They’re asleep. Healing.”

Asleep, and falling behind, I think but don’t say that aloud. Instead, I ask the other thing pressing on my mind. “And Kaylin?” Heat rises to my cheeks. “Is he about?” A casual question, is all.

Piper chuckles, seeing right through me. “They’ve given you a room together, haven’t they? For non-savants, as is customary?” Her smile says it all.

Kaylin and I share a room? How did I miss that? “I’ve been sleeping, and I guess he’s been…” What has he been doing?

“Fishing,” Samsen says. “I think our sailor’s uncomfortable around so many people.”

“Around so many savants and their phantoms, you mean.” Piper plays with the buttons on her orange cuffs. “I’ve not seen him today.” She returns to her chat with Samsen, discussing their teaching schedule and then the advanced training they will undertake. I thought they would have some free time over the next few weeks but it doesn’t sound like it.

When I finish my meal, I stand, ready to leave, noticing again I’m the only one in the hall not wearing savant robes. At the Sanctuary of Baiseen, there are plenty of us non-savants, but not here on Aku. No wonder Kaylin feels uncomfortable. I’m starting to myself.

As I turn from the table, I nearly bump into an agahpa, a treelike phantom with branchy arms and legs. They are warriors, very tall, and this one’s leading the way in front of its green-robed savant. One of those endurance exercises, I guess. But as I step back, it hesitates, staring at me through black, knotty eyes. For a moment, I see a picture in my head of the savant going through an obstacle course on the training field. The image is so clear, I shiver, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“Ash? Are you all right?”

When I look up, both Samsen and Piper are frowning at me, faces creased.

“It’s nothing. I just…I realized I have to ask for all new supplies.”

And collect my wits. Because while I’d been unconvinced the mouse image from before actually came from Belair’s leopard, I’m nearly positive this phantom just spoke to me. Marcus said that’s how it can be for savants and their phantoms at first, pictures in the mind, a snippet of meaning, a word…

I need to find Marcus and talk to him about this. “Where’s the infirmary?”

Piper still looks concerned. “Out the front doors, left along the main boulevard, past the fountain, three doors down from the library tower.”

“The building with the high arches,” Samsen adds. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Yes, thanks.” I excuse myself and head for the door, but as I weave around the tables, past those still finishing their meals, I feel eyes watching my back. And not in a friendly way.