The saltars all talked at once, and from the snippets I overheard, it was clear no one knew how to proceed. Some of the bolder students ran to the doorway. From my position, I could see the High Saltar and the soldier disappearing around the curve of the hall.

Commotion continued from the courtyard. While the other teachers argued, Saltar River strode straight across the room to the ground-floor windows. The blue novitiates parted for her like windblown grasses, and we followed in her wake, pulled forward by curiosity and dread.

Burly men roamed the courtyard, bristling with swords and knives and dented shields. On a rare outing into Middlemost, I’d glimpsed soldiers patrolling the streets, but we’d never seen any on the Order grounds. A bearded soldier with a blood-soaked bandage tied around his thigh shouted at a thinner man with a polished helmet, perhaps someone of higher rank? I couldn’t distinguish his words over the noise. Arguments rolled among the men like tumbling rocks.

The men near the courtyard wall took up positions by each entry and window. Their movements held more than agitation and anger. These soldiers had the stiff joints and jerky motions of fear.

The bearded man shook his head, abandoning his argument, then noticed us through the windows. A leering grin spread across his hairy face. He elbowed another soldier and pointed.

Saltar River whirled toward us. “Novitiates! Withdraw to your sleeping quarters until further notice.”

What about the test results? I longed to ask, but didn’t dare.

As students lined up to leave, I noticed Nolana’s troubled face. I approached her and knelt down. “You don’t need to worry. The soldiers protect our Order. You’ll be all right.”

Her lashes swept her cheeks, and when she looked up at me, her eyes held depths beyond her years. “No.” Her words came out breathy and edged with sorrow. “They took me from my village.”

“You mean soldiers escorted you when you journeyed here?”

Her feathery brows drew together, as if puzzled by my ignorance. “They took me. They killed my papa and took me.”

I drew back. “That’s impossible. The Order would never—”

“Scarlet novitiates, proceed.” Saltar Tangleroot hustled her charges out, leaving me staring after them.

The poor girl was so confused. Why would she create an evil tale like that? We all knew that the soldiers served the Order, and the Order served our world. Perhaps in her homesickness she’d had nightmares. I’d experienced many my first year here. I needed to warn her not to talk about her bad dreams. She couldn’t afford to get into more trouble.

The other forms filed out in neat rows, and we followed them upstairs. I leaned heavily on the railing, each step pain upon pain. When we reached our room I collapsed on my mat in relief. Using the fabric from a spare hood scarf, I tightly wrapped my ankle. I wasn’t the only one suppressing moans and rubbing sore muscles and joints. The adrenaline of performance bled away, and the disappointment of not knowing the results grated like grit against blisters.

Starfire Blue mustered enough energy to roll onto her stomach and prop on her elbows. “Do you think they added this disruption as a new part of the test?”

The thought had crossed my mind, but I shook my head. “This couldn’t have been planned. Those soldiers are angry and afraid. And bleeding.”

“Will they tell us what’s happened?”

“They’ll say we aren’t to think about anything beyond the walls of the Order.”

Starfire huffed. “Then this doesn’t count. They are inside the walls, and they ruined our test day. And what about supper? I’m starving.”

My stomach grumbled at her words. We hadn’t eaten all day. Were we supposed to ignore our hunger and prepare for bed? Or would the official results be announced soon?

While we waited, we took turns using the washrooms down the hall. The water buckets on the counter were low. Apparently the attendants had been diverted from their schedule too. I used a sparing amount of water to splash my face, then used a clean linen cloth to rub my skin as well as I could. If I knew we were done for the day, I’d gladly peel off my sweat-drenched hood scarf, tunic, and leggings and change into comfortable nightwear, but I thought it best to stay prepared for a summons. After years of consistent schedules, none of us were equipped to deal with the unpredictable, so after washing up, we stayed dressed and ready, resting on our mats, too dejected for conversation.

Fatigue overcame my anxious speculation, and I dozed until Saltar Kemp appeared in our doorway. “Blue novitiates, I’m very sorry that we’ll be unable to complete the proclamations or gather for a meal this evening. You may prepare for bed.” Her wrinkles seemed deeper, her skin tinted gray.

Furrow Blue sat on her mat near the door and turned to the saltar. “What happened? Why are soldiers here?”

I was grateful for her boldness—so much that I almost forgave her for my injury.

Saltar Kemp’s mouth drew down and she sighed. “Since this was such an important day for you, perhaps you deserve to know. The soldiers were visiting midrange villages to collect the Order taxes. Foleshill refused to supply the produce required, and after some . . . opposition . . . the soldiers retreated here to consult with the High Saltar.”

Unthinkable. Perhaps the backward rim villages might be reluctant to offer their due to the Order, but the midrange towns knew it was an honor to share in our work by donating provisions. Families there were honored to send their finest girls to train.

Saltar Kemp met the gaze of girls around the room, taking in our varied expressions of confusion, disbelief, and concern. The grooves around her mouth deepened. “I know. A tragic and inexplicable event. It will be dealt with, I assure you. Get some sleep. The soldiers will be gone on the morrow.” She withdrew before we could ask more questions.

No wonder we were taught not to think of the world beyond our walls. Clearly, even with the sacrificial efforts of the Order, chaos threatened to infect some villages. Yet another reason I needed to be chosen. I ripped the hood scarf from my head, unbound my braid, and raked fingers through my hair. Bone-weary, I didn’t bother changing. I curled up on my mat and surrendered to sleep, a sleep disturbed by cramping muscles, the throbbing of my ankle, and tormenting dreams.

The next day at breakfast I should have been ravenous but struggled to force down a few bites of porridge. Even Starfire picked at her food, shredding bits of persea into her bowl.

“Calara, I don’t think I want to be a dancer. What do you think they’d do if I respectfully declined?”

“When they call your name, your doubts will flee,” I said softly.

“And what if only one of us is picked? We’ll never see each other.”

Seeing the mess she’d made of her persea, I handed her my fruit. “Don’t exaggerate. The dancers aren’t in complete seclusion.” Although with their separate wing, private dining hall, and regimented schedule, the dancers rarely interacted with the rest of the Order.

Starfire’s chin tucked down. “You are my best friend. I want you to know that. If we . . . if I don’t . . . if only one of us is accepted and we can’t speak again . . .”

“We would find a way. But we won’t need to. We’ll both be accepted. So eat something. You’ll need your energy.”

Starfire crinkled her nose. “Or we could both decline and go off to discover the world.”

Suddenly the thought held appeal. Those winding paths glimpsed from the upper window, the haunting questions about my birth village, the teasing thoughts that had invaded even my final test. Were the answers out there somewhere? But after all these years of hard work and the uprisings in the tumultuous outer world, how could I abandon the Order? Everyone knew the world beyond our walls held danger and chaos. I would scrub floors or mortar the walls. Anything to stay.

The High Saltar left her place at the head table and came to stand before the room, regal, confident. Dozens of spoons lowered, hands stilled, and muted conversations died.

Tension built in my jaw, chest, and stomach. When I noticed the tightness, I used my training to release the muscles. Even with my best efforts, I barely coaxed my ribs to expand and draw in air.

“Traditionally, testing day is also a time to announce promotions and other changes. I’m pleased to share a few new positions with you now.”

She rattled off assignments without one mention of yesterday’s disturbance. I supposed that made sense. We’d been taught since the first form: by willing it to be so, we erase the problem from our minds. Bad things simply didn’t happen in the Order. My admiration for her swelled. She embodied the ability to create her own truth.

She continued. “Finally, Saltar River has been named as my new Sub-High Saltar, and Saltar Fern will take her place teaching the fifth form.”

I groaned. The High Saltar and her assistant were the ones who interacted directly with the dancers. I’d hoped to be done with Saltar River.

“Now I’ll call the names of the dancers joining the Order. When your name is called, please come forward. Pine Blue, you are now Dancer Pine. Welcome to the Order.”

Across the table, Dancer Pine’s face lit with joy. She scrambled off the bench and hurried to stand before the High Saltar. An attendant gave a stack of neatly folded items to High Saltar Tiarel, who handed them to the new dancer. White leggings, white hood scarf, white tunic, and a white robe—the clothing that would mark her as a dancer of the Order.

“Do you pledge your service to the Order, in obedience to our vital work?”

“I do.” Her voice squeaked, and then was drowned out by our fingers tapping the table like a downpour of congratulations.

As she was led away by the attendant, I leaned forward, pulse quickening. I could see myself stepping to the front, tipping my head in deference to the saltars, boldly making my pledge, receiving my new name, my new identity.

“Gale Blue, you are now Dancer Gale . . .” Calmly, the High Saltar called each successful candidate forward.

One by one, our table emptied, and as each new dancer stepped forward, my breaths became tighter.

Tiarel’s chin lifted. “We have one more dancer to announce. The rest will be given their new assignments later.” At our table, Furrow, Starfire, and I were among those still not named.

Starfire’s panicked gaze met mine. “I hope it’s you,” she said softly.

Whatever the outcome, everything in our lives was about to change.

“Calara Blue, you are now Dancer Calara.” The words rang in my ears, and, for a second, I forgot how to move.

Starfire stood with me and gave me a quick hug. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We can still meet in the courtyard to watch the stars. I’ll look for you.”

I nodded and walked to the front, so dazed that I didn’t feel my ankle. . . or any other part of my body.

Someone’s voice came from my throat, pledging to serve the Order. When the new clothes were placed in my arms, the soft fabric drew me back to a semblance of reality. I hugged the folded items to my chest, bowed to the saltars, and followed the attendant for a few steps.

I paused to look back. Furrow stared at the table, her face shadowed with despair. I ached for her and was glad to know I could sorrow for her even though she’d hurt me. Of course it was easy to feel compassion for another’s suffering when all my dreams had come true.

Starfire gave a small wave, genuine happiness for me shining on her face. She was a true friend, able to share my joy. My heart caught on a thought. Would I have been able to celebrate with her, if she had been chosen and I wasn’t? I didn’t know.

I followed the attendant through a side door into a hallway I’d never entered before. Light filtered in from generous windows set high above.

As my feet trod the cold marble, the sense of fulfillment swelled in my heart until I thought I’d burst. Delicate banners hung along the wall, beginning with scarlet and passing through all the colors of my past fifteen years. Shyly, I touched the final blue banner, saying goodbye to my life as a novitiate. As the hall curved, rows of doors on both sides came into view, each with small symbols etched into the wood.

The attendant led me to one adorned with the carving of a series of calara reeds. She opened the door. “Regarb and wait here until you’re summoned. This will be your sleep quarters now.”

I entered, expecting to find the other new dancers, but the tiny room was empty of other people. A plump ticking rested on a platform. A row of pegs provided storage. A box with a wooden comb, leather hair ties, and a stack of linen cloths hugged one side of a long shelf set into the wall.

It had never occurred to me that dancers had their own rooms. The air felt empty and cold. How would I sleep without the comfort of others nearby? The isolation would be unbearable. Perhaps the dancers who worked in the central ground at night needed quiet and seclusion to sleep during the day. Or perhaps this was one more deprivation to help us focus solely on our work.

More questions flooded me. When was the schedule announced? When would I get my first chance to dance barefoot on the earth of our world? Did the assignments vary? If I were assigned to dance each night, how would I slip away to meet with Starfire?

No time to dwell on inquiries. I’d been given an order. I tugged off my clothes and changed into the new white fabric, finer and softer than anything I’d worn before. After hanging my old things on the pegs, I studied the long robe. Was it only worn on formal occasions? Who could I ask?

A tap at the door interrupted my fretting.

“Are you ready?” an older woman called out while already pushing her way into the small room. Her plump frame seemed massive after my years with reed-thin novitiates. White curls bounced around her head like my childhood memories of sea froth.

She sized me up while brushing a bit of nonexistent lint from my tunic.

“Am I ready?” I repeated, unsure.

The elder attendant smiled. “All the new dancers wear the same dazed expression. Don’t fear. You’ll feel at home in no time. I’m Ginerva, your assigned attendant.”

“Ginerva?” There was no pattern by that name, no flower or constellation. And she gave no designation. “Just Ginerva?”

“Well now, they won’t be allowing me to include my village name, will they?”

I blinked a few times. “Do I wear the robe?”

She grabbed it from my hands and hung it on a peg. “Not today, child. It’s time to gather in the common hall.” While she spoke, she grabbed my blue clothes and bundled them together, taking them with her. “Follow me.”

I padded after her farther along the hallway. She stopped to push her bundle into a basket set in an alcove. “Laundry there,” she said crisply. “Blankets once a week. I’ll bring fresh clothes each morning, never you fear. But I won’t be picking up after you, you hear?”

By now we’d reached arched windows that gave a view into a huge open room. She waved me to the door, also arched and propped open. “Away with you.” She stopped herself, squeezed the bridge of her nose, and gave a funny cross-eyed squint. “You can find your way back to your room, yes?”

“Look for the reed carvings on the door?”

She beamed. “You’ll do.” Then she waddled down the hall, leaving me to step across the threshold into my new life.