by Dylan Steel
“Everything ok?” Lita called from several aisles away.
“Fine!” Sage shouted back. “I hope,” she added under her breath.
She rushed around the corner into the next aisle, hoping none of the fallen relics had broken. She gingerly picked through the mess on the floor. A wave of relief washed over her. No shattered glass. Everything seemed to be intact.
Satisfied that nothing had been destroyed, Sage began trying to return the items to the pile. It was no easy task. All the relic heaps in the cataloguing room were overstuffed, and this one was no exception.
One of the relics in the miniature pile Sage had inadvertently created was a basket. She flipped it over and began filling it with the smaller objects that had fallen. A small mirror, a decorative hairpiece, a squatty candle, a sapphire ring—she heaped them into the basket and found an open narrow space on a table to set it on.
Sage righted a painting and leaned it against the stack. There was no use trying to fit it somewhere inside of the mound of relics. Her eyes fell on a set of books that had been hiding beneath it. They looked remarkably similar to the two blank books she’d found before.
Three of them sat on the floor, stacked neatly one on top of the other—like they’d been waiting patiently for her to discover them. She picked them up one by one, flipping through each one to see what treasures they might hold.
The books were similar in size, but each cover was a different color—the first a bright green, the second a deep blue, and the third a dirty yellow. None of them contained even a single word.
“No more pictures either, I suppose,” Sage muttered to herself.
She still hadn’t dared to look for the photo that she’d obsessed over the year before. Twelve men and women were in that picture—five of whom made up younger versions of the Original Five. The other seven were still a mystery.
Mr. Walsh said he’d put it back where it belonged, but she realized she wasn’t sure where that was specifically. She hadn’t seen the photo or the book she’d found it in, and she hadn’t had a chance to ask him about it since he’d been back.
Frankly, she was scared to bring it up. She still remembered the look on Mr. Walsh’s face as he was being arrested. And she still remembered how terrible it felt to be the one who put him in that position by confessing the truth of her research endeavors to Mr. Gramples and Mr. Gaztok.
The memory of that exchange left her stomach in knots. And seeing Kai with Mr. Gaztok a few weeks ago had been more than a little unsettling. Something about that man made her skin crawl.
She heard the door to the room swing open, followed by silence and then footsteps toward the opposite end of the room. Unsure who had just joined them, Sage gathered the three books up and nudged the rest of the fallen artifacts toward the base of the pile in a hurried attempt to clean up the mess she’d made.
Sage heard voices talking and knew one of them had to belong to Lita. They weren’t speaking loudly, so she still wasn’t sure who the new person in the room was.
Whoever it was, she couldn’t take the chance that they’d find the books. There was something strange about them that inexplicably drew her toward them—the way they were so similar and yet each one unique, obviously hand-made. Someone had put a great deal of effort into making them long ago, and she was driven to find out why. She couldn’t risk them falling into the wrong hands before she’d found answers.
She darted down the edge of the rows, making as little noise as possible, and skidded to a stop in front of the pile where she’d been hiding interesting artifacts all year.
Dropping to her knees, she put the books down so that she could move aside the chair and artwork that stood in front of a rusting bucket. She yanked a pillow out of the bucket and grabbed the books, setting them on top of the other one she’d found a few months ago.
Sage paused, realizing she hadn’t heard voices for awhile. She hastily threw the pillow back on top of the books and dragged the chair and artwork in front of the bucket again. Straightening, she wiped the dust from her palms off on her pants and turned to leave the aisle.
“Ahem.”
Whoever had cleared their throat was now standing at the end of the row where Sage was. She froze. Her heart began beating wildly as she turned slowly to face the person who’d caught her in front of her hiding place.
Relief swept over her when she realized it was just Mr. Walsh. Lita followed right behind him, stopping by his side. They were both looking at Sage curiously.
“Did you find something good?” Lita cocked her head at Sage. They’d been sharing interesting finds all year, but Sage had kept the book—now books—a secret.
Sage shook her head. “Not really,” she said, unsure if she was actually lying.
Mr. Walsh raised an eyebrow. He glanced over the piles flanking the young student. “Is this the area you’ve been working in, Sage?”
“Um, not exactly…” She bit her lip.
“Then why are you over here?” Lita snapped her mouth closed. She looked embarrassed—like the question had slipped out without her permission.
Mr. Walsh took a deep breath and turned to Lita.
“I believe we have a few things to discuss. Can you give us a minute?” he asked quietly, rubbing his bracelet.
Lita glanced back and forth between the two of them hesitantly. “Sure.” She didn’t move right away. “I guess—I’ll head back upstairs,” she said, shuffling awkwardly toward the door.
Mr. Walsh turned to Sage as soon as they were alone. “What did you find?”
Staying quiet at first, she stared at Mr. Walsh blankly, trying to think of a way to answer him, deciding if she wanted to drag him into another secret.
“Sage?” There was an edge of warning in his voice. “I thought we had an understanding, you and I.”
“It’s not that…” She crossed her arms. “It’s probably nothing,” she protested, almost pouting.
“Show me.”
She sighed in resignation, stepping back toward the relics she’d just replaced. Moving the larger items aside, she reached beneath the pillow and pulled out all four of the books she had hidden.
“Here.” She shoved the stack at him.
He turned one of the books over in his hand and let out a soft whistle. “Well, I don’t know if it’s something or not, but they’re certainly something to see. That’s for sure.”
“I’m not sure why I kept them…” Sage trailed off, staring at the blank books she’d collected.
“No.” Mr. Walsh wrinkled his forehead, frowning. “You’re right. There’s something about them. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“They’re pretty,” she suggested lamely, knowing that it was a superficial reason.
He shook his head. “No… It’s something else. It’s…” His eyes lit up. “I think these may be important, Sage. Can you keep them hidden for awhile longer?”
She nodded. “Sure, but what do you think they are?”
“I’d rather not say. I could be wrong. But if I’m not, it’s safer for you if you don’t know.”
Sage frowned. She didn’t like that answer, but she also didn’t expect to be able to change his mind, so she didn’t press him any further.
“Fine.” She made a motion to put the books back in the bucket.
“No, not there.” Mr. Walsh stopped her. “It should be somewhere I haven’t seen. Somewhere no one else knows.”
She furrowed her brow, looking around.
“No, no, not ‘til I’m gone.” He turned to leave. “I’ll be waiting just outside. Take a few minutes—find a good spot,” he called over his shoulder.
“Oh, and Sage?”
“Yeah?”
“If you find any others that seem similar, hide those as well. And don’t tell me—or anyone else for that matter—unless I ask, alright?”
“Ok…”
With those final instructions, he left the room.
Sage glanced around the aisle at the heaps of relics.
She heaved a sigh of frustration. Why was he so interested in the books? Why wouldn’t he just tell her what he thought they were?
She chided herself. Mr. Walsh was just looking out for her. She’d seen what had happened to him when he was under suspicion before—what had almost happened to her. Unlike so many others she’d met at the Institution, he actually cared what happened to her.
As she made her way to the end of the row, she surveyed every stack she passed. She wandered down one row after another, looking for the perfect hiding place. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. It seemed useless—she’d already been using a great spot, and now she was supposed to find a new one amidst the dense mess of relics.
She turned down another aisle, and her eyes immediately fell on a unique relic—one that could hold the books in her hands and a good number more—one that wouldn’t be obvious to most people. A grin spread over her face. Perfect.
17. THE BUSY SEASON
Rolling over onto her back, Sage could feel the blades of grass tickling her cheek. Her eyes were closed as the early spring sun warmed her face. She grinned silently while Penelope rambled above her head.
“It’s not like I meant to let him hit me. Especially not that hard,” Penelope explained, pulling out clumps of grass. “Nic’s a lot faster than I thought he was. Besides, I don’t think my eye’s that dark.”
Sage opened her eyes and tilted her head back to get a better view of her friend’s sparring injury.
“Mmm, it’s a pretty good bruise.”
Penelope wrinkled her nose. “Well, at least he seemed like he felt pretty bad about it,” she mumbled. “I think Bokja was way more fun to watch than it is to do.” She dumped a clump of grass on top of Sage’s hair. “I don’t know why you like it so much.”
“Sometimes I like it more than others,” Sage replied as she brushed her hand over her hair, trying to get the grass off.
She sat up and looked at Penelope in annoyance. Some of the grass had gotten stuck, and now she had to pull the remaining pieces out one at a time.
“It’s like Eprah’s allowing me a little bit of time to be angry. At least, that’s what I pretend it is.” She flicked a piece of grass at her friend.
Her eyes wandered to the iron fence they were sitting beside. Some younger kids had been beating them to their talking spot under the beams lately, so they’d begun hanging out at the edge of the yard.
Some days, she liked it. Sitting that close to freedom felt like a small act of rebellion, and she got to see a bit of the world beyond their confines. Other days, it just felt like a cruel reminder that it didn’t matter how close she got to freedom—Eprah would never truly allow her to be free. She leaned the side of her head against the fence and watched the whir of activity in the world outside their boundaries.
She suddenly sat up straighter.
“Pen, what’s that place for?” Sage realized it was a strange question. She should have already known, but she’d simply never bothered to ask before.
“That?” Penelope jerked her head toward the building Sage was staring at. “It’s the hospital.” She looked at Sage strangely. “Are you just now noticing it’s their busy season?”
“What?” Sage was only partially paying attention. She’d noticed a familiar man walking out the main doors, and she was struggling to figure out how she knew him.
“Their. Busy. Season. All the babies?” Penelope rolled her eyes. She could see Sage wasn’t listening. “Why do I bother?” she muttered.
Sage furrowed her brow as she watched the man walk to the edge of the sidewalk and then turn around impatiently. A young woman hurried to catch up with him. She was clutching a lumpy pile of blankets and had a slight waddle. Sage inhaled sharply as she realized who the man was.
“Is that Rosalind?” Penelope squinted. “Oh, it is! She must have had her baby!” she squealed.
Sage didn’t say anything. She just watched.
She watched as Mr. Grayson leaned closer and whispered something in Rosalind’s ear. She saw a look of fear and helplessness on her friend’s face as the man snatched their baby out of the pile of blankets and examined him like a prize. She saw the temporary look of relief on her face when he thrust the baby back into Rosalind’s arms and began walking away again.
Rosalind pulled the blankets around her new child and quickly set off after her benefactor.
Sage felt her heart rise up in her throat. She wanted to do something to help, but she knew it was useless. Any attempt to leave would be easily thwarted by the zeptobes, and besides, what did she expect to do against someone twice her size? And in the middle of the city? She let out a frustrated sigh.
Gone was the strong young woman who had helped Sage last year. She’d been replaced and was now a completely ordinary, utterly fearful citizen of Eprah. And no one cared.
18. THE DONATION
“You have got to see this!” Lita stood in the doorway and called back to Sage, who was still lagging a bit behind her in the hallway.
As soon as she walked through the door, Sage let out a gasp.
The cataloguing room was overwhelmed with new relics. Piles had been pushed together into small mountains, eliminating half the aisles so that the relics could be stacked together even higher.
Her first thought was the hiding spot where she’d placed the blank books. Without a word, she dashed over a few rows and let out a sigh of relief when she saw that nothing there was out of place.
Lita trotted up behind her.
“Everything ok?”
“Yeah,” Sage said, hastily forming an explanation in her mind. “I was worried they moved things where I’d been working. I didn’t want to have to start over,” she lied.
“Oh, rox,” Lita cursed. She ran off suddenly, leaving Sage alone in the aisle, dumbstruck.
“Never mind! I’m good too!” Lita shouted over the piles.
Once they were both satisfied that their research remained undisturbed, the two girls wandered back toward the front of the room where the stacks had grown significantly.
Sage scanned the piles. She was eager to see if any of these new relics held clues, but she was sure Lita would want to go through them too—which would make it tricky to keep any good finds a secret.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Mr. Walsh appeared in the doorway behind the girls.
They nodded in stunned silence.
Lita turned to their instructor. “Where’d it all come from?”
“Mr. Gramples told me that an elderly citizen had been hoarding these artifacts at his vast estate for quite a long time.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s unbelievable. There’s so much history here…” his voice trailed off.
“Apparently, the man was setting his affairs in order and thought it would be best to make a generous donation to the Archives, and—well, you can see the result for yourselves.” He waved his hand around the room.
Sage turned around. “But—there’s so much.”
Mr. Walsh shrugged and held up his hands. “All I know is what I’m told.” He grinned. “Looks like you ladies have even more to sort through now. If you’re not careful, Lita, Mr. Gramples might put in a good word for you with the Quorum to be his new assistant after graduation.”
Lita rolled her eyes. “Just what I’ve always hoped for,” she said flatly.
“Well, I’ll be sure to tell him how much you’re looking forward to it,” he joked. “But for now, I suppose I’ll let you two have fun exploring. Just let me know if there are any especially interesting treasures, won’t you?” His eyes twinkled with excitement.
“Sure thing, Mr. Walsh.” Lita raised an eyebrow at their instructor.
After he left the room, she nudged Sage and whispered, “Poor guy’s hopelessly obsessed, huh?”
Sage giggled.
Lita faced the new, much larger stack of relics. “Guess we just… start.” She walked over to a section and began digging through the new artifacts.
Sage meandered down the aisle a li
ttle ways from her friend and started picking through a smaller area of the pile. Almost instantly, her eyes were drawn upward by a glint of light. A strand of a delicate silver chain hung off the edge of a miniature basket.
She stretched her fingers out and grasped the end of the chain, tugging it carefully. The opposite end caught on the basket—it seemed unwilling to come free. Sage stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a better angle, and she pulled a bit harder.
A necklace swung out of the basket, but its movement had disrupted the rest of the pile. Other items immediately began sliding down the stack. She’d started a chain reaction.
She yelped and managed to jump out of the way before the avalanche buried her beneath a mountain of ancient objects.
“Sage! Are you ok?”
She could hear Lita’s voice on the other side of the pile of relics, but the mess was too high to see over.
“Fine!” she called back. “I’m not stuck under anything!”
“Ok…” Lita sounded worried. “Maybe we should work in the same section from now on. For safety. At least with the new stuff.”
“Good idea.” Sage groaned inwardly. She didn’t actually like that idea, but she liked the idea of being buried alive even less.
Looking down, she realized she was still holding tightly to the chain. And that she was shaking.
She lifted the chain in front of her face to examine it more closely. She was holding a necklace with a heavy, breathtaking stone hanging from the end of it. The stone was rectangular and thin enough to appear flat, flanked on every side by intricate filigrees. It was deep red in color and cast beautiful scarlet-tinted flecks of light across the floor.
“Should I come to you?” Lita’s footsteps indicated that she was already starting to walk around the aisle.
“No,” Sage said hastily. “I’ll come to you. Just a sec.”
She bunched up the necklace in her fist and sprinted down the row, looking for a place to stash the relic. As she rounded the corner, she noticed the old hiding spot she’d used for the books. Without bothering to move the chair or painting, she stretched her fingers out and dropped the necklace in the top of the bucket, shoving it in the small space beside the pillow.