The Complete Marked Series Box Set

by March McCarron

  She aroused from her stupor at the sound of Ko-Jin sitting down next to her and Rinny rejoining the other side of the circle.

  “So Ko-Jin, what’s your story?” Roldon asked, his soft brown curls dancing in the wind.

  “Yeah,” Rinny said. “What happened to your foot?”

  Bray thought this rather rude, but Ko-Jin merely shrugged and said, “Nothing happened. I was born this way.”

  “You’d be good on the streets, you know,” Rinny said. “Cripples always are.”

  Ko-Jin frowned, a touch of color blooming on his cheeks. The circle grew uncomfortably quiet.

  “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  Ko-Jin shook his head. “I just don’t like that word—cripple. It isn’t even accurate. It comes from the old Dalish word for ‘creep.’” He offered them a wide, dimpled smile. “I don’t creep. I shuffle.”

  They laughed, and the tension eased. Mi-Na asked him a question in Chaskuan and he answered in that language, leaving the rest of them in the dark.

  “How do you speak such good Dalish?” Peer asked.

  “My step-dad is Dalish. He’s a fisherman in Ucho Nod.” Ko-Jin tucked his deformed foot underneath him. “So, is there something we are meant to be doing now?”

  “Not really,” Bray said as Magery nodded agreement. “We have to be in the gardens for testing every day, but other than that we’re allowed to do as we please.”

  “We were thinking on a game to play before you lot showed up,” Peer said.

  Roldon perked up, a boyish smile crossing his face. “I know a great game.”

  Chapter Six

  Roldon and Peer bent over a hand-drawn map of the Temple grounds, intent. Bray and her new friends had taken refuge in the Philosophy library, a small, round den of books near the cliffs. Bray chewed on her lip and gazed out the window. She could see straight out to the horizon, the sea glittering with morning sun.

  “I think our best shot lies up here,” Roldon said, pushing his brown curls from his eyes.

  “Nah, B team took up there yesterday,” Peer said.

  Roldon’s shoulders slumped. “Yes…yes, you’re right.”

  “I say still,” Adearre’s musical voice sounded from behind a bookcase, “that we should stay mobile.”

  Roldon smoothed the map with his hands, pressing it flatter to the table. “We already tried that—it was an utter disaster. No, a good concealing location is best.”

  “Besides, I’d hold you back,” Ko-Jin said.

  Bray shot him an annoyed look. “How many times do I have to tell you? Our team is stronger with you. We’d have been out in the first ten minutes yesterday without your quick thinking.”

  Ko-Jin smiled thankfully at her.

  “Why don’t you get your great brain over here? Help us choose a spot,” Peer said, moving to make a spot for the Chaskuan boy.

  “Hey now,” Ko-Jin said, rising awkwardly from his chair. “I’m more than just a brain. What I lack in foot speed I make up in upper body strength.” He raised one bone-thin arm and flexed, winking at Bray, then turned to the map.

  “The real problem is me,” Arlow said, his bruised face morose. “I’m famed for my atrocious luck. Always have been.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” Roldon said. “It’s tactics we need.”

  Bray smiled. The game—Smugglers and Scrutineers—had, in the week since their first round down by the beach, become a serious business. They played every morning, and with such a sizable group and wide, interesting landscape, it had reached an impressive scale. Bray lived for the game, as did they all, for the simple reason that it served as a distraction. A distraction from the testing, the pain, the failure and humiliation.

  Roldon removed the quartz paperweight from his pocket and placed it on the table reverently, as if it were really the diamond they purported it to be.

  “Here’s what I think,” Ko-Jin said, his brows drawn together in concentration. “We hide it in the foliage here.” He pointed at the map. “It’s got good visibility but a limited entrance. Peer and Adearre will serve as runners again. Bray and I will act as lookouts in one of these trees.” He looked over at her. “Do you think you could help me up again?” Bray nodded. “Roldon and Arlow scout. I’m willing to bet B team will be up in this area again.” He ran his fingers along the lake. “C team is less predictable.”

  Roldon shook his head and whistled. “You should have been a general, Ko-Jin.”

  “There hasn’t been a war in over two hundred years. Generals are forgotten things these days.”

  Ko-Jin rolled up the map and handed it to Roldon.

  “Is it all settled, then?” Arlow asked. “Truthfully, I could really use a win today…”

  “We all could, mate,” Peer said, clapping Arlow on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  They left the library and hurried, keeping low to the ground, to their selected location. The Temple grounds sprawled, massive and winding. It was easy enough to get lost. Playing the game for the past week had familiarized them better than any tour could have, but they still found themselves easily turned around. As they approached the Cosanta portion of the Temple, Bray crouched lower still, careful to keep out of sight. The Chisanta didn’t seem to mind what the plebes did, as long as they stayed out of the way.

  “Hey,” Arlow whispered, halting and peering between two shrubs. “It’s Yarrow.”

  Bray shifted a clump of bushes and peeked into the opening. Yarrow hunkered beneath the shade of a tree. He wore long emerald green robes and sat near several Cosanta in their mid-twenties. The others carried on an animated conversation, but Yarrow did not join them. He had placed himself apart and leaned over a thick book in his lap. Bray felt an ache in her chest at the sight. He looked lonely. Spirits, how she missed him. As much as she adored all of her new friends, none of them could replace Yarrow.

  “Lamhart,” a blonde woman said, her face so covered in freckles that even her lips and eye lids were spotted.

  “Yes?” Yarrow looked up.

  “You need to practice. Books won’t get you to the Aeght a Seve.”

  Yarrow sighed but nodded. He set his tome aside and stood, then crossed to a circular clearing. His legs bent and he began to move with slow, fluid steps—the warrior dance Bray had seen many Cosanta do since coming to the Temple. Her breath caught as she watched him. He was so graceful, his face a smooth mask. He looked so unlike himself.

  “Bray,” Roldon whispered, “we have to keep moving.”

  Bray recalled herself to the game and nodded. She spared one quick parting glance for her estranged friend before they crept beyond the Cosanta grounds, up to the gardens.

  The dark earth bore neat rows of vegetables: red peppers, squash, and zucchini. Roldon placed their treasure amidst the eggplants, keeping it partially visible as the rules stipulated. Adearre and Peer crouched behind the well, ready to dart out and run away with the diamond should the need arise—in opposing directions so as to split the opposition. Arlow and Roldon slunk away, in search of enemy treasure.

  “Ready?” Bray asked, when she and Ko-Jin had reached a promising tree, a tall evergreen.

  “Maybe if you just give me a leg up I can manage…” Ko-Jin said. He frowned up at the lowest bough.

  Bray contained a sigh. It was much easier when he let her help, but his pride seemed to demand he do everything with as little aid as possible—especially from a girl.

  She cupped her hands and he placed his good foot in them. She lifted with all her strength, though he was quite light, and he grabbed the branch and slowly pulled himself up. Despite his crack earlier about the thinness of his arms, he really did have a fair amount of upper body strength. Bray stayed below and watched him as he climbed up, or rather pulled himself up, limb by limb.

  “This is a great view,” he said, looking down at her. “Come on up.”

  Bray backed up several paces and took a running start. She bounded and caught the lowest branch, wrapped her legs arou
nd it, and swung until she perched upon the bough—a move that would be impossible in a dress. Thank the Spirits for trousers. She then balanced on the branch and repeated the process until she had joined Ko-Jin high up on his roost.

  “You look like a monkey,” Ko-Jin said, and slid over to make room for her.

  She smiled. “My dad used to call me monkey.” She looked down at her hands and the sticky sap that coated her palms. “Blight it all, this stuff never comes off.”

  “Let me see,” Ko-Jin said, and took her hand. He touched the sap and looked slyly up at her. “Yes, I think you’ll be sappy for life.”

  He held eye contact and ran his fingers along her hand, and Bray’s face flushed. Not for the first time, she wondered at their frequent seclusion by his design. He had warm brown eyes lined in thick, dark lashes and a nice smile, but he looked so very young. And, more to the point, he wasn’t Yarrow.

  “Look.” Ko-Jin pointed.

  Bray could see a great portion of the grounds from their perch—all of the vegetable gardens spread out below her and, down the hill, she had a clear view of the testing arena, the lake, and the gazebo. Ko-Jin pointed to several moving shapes to the right of the dining hall.

  “I see them,” Bray said.

  Ko-Jin hooted loudly, sounding just like an owl. At the signal, Peer and Adearre scurried from their hiding place and came to the foot of the tree.

  “Right of the dining hall,” Bray whispered. “Tell the scouts.”

  Peer opened his mouth to say something in response. He was cut off by the sound of a door opening and adults conversing. He and Adearre crouched low and Bray froze on her bough.

  “Is it certain?” a deep voice asked.

  “Quite certain. One has not been found,” a female responded.

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the man said, the worry in his voice audible.

  Two shapes moved into view below, both wearing the leather jerkins of the Chiona.

  “That is because such a thing has never happened. There have always been fifty—exactly fifty.”

  Bray and Ko-Jin exchanged confused looks. She endeavored not to breathe, suspecting she was not meant to overhear this conversation.

  “What is to be done?” the man asked.

  “What can be done?” the woman replied, sounding weary. “We do not know who the child was or where the child was from. How can we search for a person who was never identified? It is distressing, but there is no recourse.”

  The two Chiona moved on. Bray and the others remained still and silent until confident the adults had passed well beyond hearing range.

  “What did it mean?” Peer asked.

  “Only forty-nine children found,” Adearre said. “One of our year is missing.”

  Bray’s brow creased. “But how? Why?”

  “Is it possible there just weren’t fifty of us to begin with? That there were less, for some reason?” Ko-Jin asked.

  “It seems unlikely,” Bray replied. “Like the woman said, there have always been fifty. Always. Why would that change now?”

  “So then, where are they?” Peer called up.

  Bray leaned back against the trunk of the tree and idly picked at the sap on her hands, the game, for a time, forgotten.

  Come midday, the plebes trooped back to the garden for testing—the mood, as ever, tense and fearful. Bray envied the missing youth. Wherever that individual was, it seemed unlikely he or she would be pummeled before an audience. Since Yarrow’s success that first day, no one had passed the test.

  Bray took a seat between Arlow and Peer and watched as the bald woman, whose name was Lendra, stalked into the center of the arena. The quiet subsided into silence. Bray swallowed, vaguely nauseous. Clear across the amphitheater, she located Yarrow, wearing his Cosanta robes and looking solemn. He held her gaze for several long moments, a small smile on his lips, before the blonde woman to his right claimed his attention.

  “With whom shall we start today?” Lendra asked the group at large, striding before them like a predatory cat. She played this game every day—asking for volunteers, and receiving none.

  “How about you?” she said, calling forth a tall Adourran girl whose name Bray could not recall. The girl approached boldly, her spine straight and her chin uplifted. She poised her fists and tightened her jaw, but Lendra struck her in the stomach almost immediately. The girl let out a soft huff and collapsed to the ground.

  Next, poor Roldon was summoned, his rosy-cheeked exuberance from earlier in the day utterly gone. He looked depleted and small as he strode forward, the wind ruffling his curly hair. Lendra delivered a savage strike at his face and he, too, crumpled, bloody-mouthed.

  A dragonfly darted before Bray’s face, and she followed it with her gaze. The wind fluttered her hair and the sweet smell of the gardens filled her nose.

  “You,” Lendra said. Bray, for a moment, thought that she had been called forth and failed to notice in her moment of distraction. But it was Arlow who stood, trembling. She looked after him, pityingly. He was bearing the pressures of the testing worse than most. Without his cocksure expression, without the confident strut in his step and the glint in his eye, he seemed an entirely different person. No longer handsome and smug, but childlike and fearful.

  He took his place but did not raise his fists or even bend his knees.

  “Come now, boy,” Lendra taunted, “you can do better than that.”

  “I assure you, I cannot,” he drawled, earning a soft titter of laughter from the crowd.

  Lendra frowned. She shifted her weight, and Arlow must have thought her ready to strike, because he attempted to dodge. Unfortunately, he became entangled in his own feet and fell to the ground in a heap. Lendra let out a peel of crisp, cruel laughter that floated over the otherwise silent arena.

  “Come on, Arlow…” Bray whispered under her breath.

  He got back to his feet, and brushed the dirt from his wide, black trousers with a pair of shaking hands. Lendra waited until he faced her again. She kicked, her foot striking him full in the chest. Bray heard an ominous, sickening crack ring through the stadium. Arlow landed in a tangle, moaning. He did not rise.

  “You’ve broken the boy’s ribs, Lendra,” a bearded Cosanta man, across the stadium, said, his voice cool and inscrutable.

  “Yes, I heard,” she replied. “Will one of you take this one to the medic?” she asked the crowd at large, gesturing to Arlow as if he were beneath her concern. Several hands shot up, all clearly hoping they could forgo a beating in the completion of the task. Their hands went down when Peer stood and stalked past Lendra as though she were not there. Bray watched his massive back—all she could see—as he knelt, whispering to Arlow. She gave a loud sigh of relief when Peer aided Arlow to his feet. His expression was pained, but he was conscious and able to stand.

  As the pair of them sidled away, Lendra called, “You will come back once you’ve delivered him. You don’t want to miss your own testing?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Peer replied with chilling coolness, not turning to face her. Lendra’s mouth hooked into an unreadable smile.

  “Lendra, if you are incapable of executing your duties without causing real damage, we shall insist on your replacement,” the bearded Cosanta said.

  The bald woman reacted as if slapped. She turned, slowly, and speared him with a look that could have melted the coldest glacier in the North Sea. The other Chiona in the arena rounded on this man with expressions of intense loathing. Bray could feel the crackling tension between the two groups from clear across the amphitheater.

  “Do you have a problem with my sister, dance master?” a Chiona man asked. He crossed his muscular arms before his leather jerkin and glared.

  “I have a problem with anyone who breaks the bones of children. Or have the Chiona lost the last vestiges of control they possessed?”

  Lendra hissed. “You know perfectly well—”

  “Yes, I understand better than you how these proceedings
must go. I am merely suggesting you execute your role with greater care.”

  The Chiona grumbled mutinously and the Cosanta stared, smooth-faced, back.

  Lendra nodded her head to the bearded man, not in acceptance or respect, but with a kind of smug sarcasm. Then she turned back to the plebes, her eyes positively wild, and breathed, “Who’s next?’

  Bray’s palms began to sweat, and she shot a disgruntled look at the old Cosanta man. He had certainly made their situation far worse by enraging the woman.

  Lendra’s gaze swept over them, her nostrils flared, until her eyes finally fixed, maliciously, on Ko-Jin.

  “That horrid, evil, miserable…” Bray said between clenched teeth as she watched her friend limp forward. She was not the only one to protest; a mutinous rumble of carrying whispers spread across the crowd. They were, all of them, victims in the testing, but compared to the small figure now moving to the center of the amphitheater, each of them were positively brawny. He stood, minute and hunched, but with shoulders even and eyes gazing directly at Lendra, waiting. Bray’s stomach gnawed—to watch this boy take a beating felt wrong, like the whole lot of them were culpable for allowing it. She knew that he would not appreciate her concern, that it would wound his pride, but the emotion lingered nevertheless.

  Still worse was that Lendra seemed to be taking a spiteful pleasure in this particular encounter. She circled around him, a lioness closing in on an injured gazelle, taking far longer to strike than usual. Bray feared he might come to real injury. If Lendra had broken the rib of a proper-sized boy like Arlow, what would she do to one as small as Ko-Jin?

  Lendra moved with incredible speed; she struck purposely towards Ko-Jin’s weak side. Bray’s palms cut against the edge of her seat as she waited for the impact. But it did not come. Somehow, in a blur of speed, Ko-Jin had moved out of the way and Lendra had tumbled onto the ground, her face a deep red.