The crowd erupted in cheers. Bray stood and clapped, beaming down at her friend. They applauded his triumph, because the triumph of the weakest among them was proof that they could all succeed. But even more, they applauded Lendra’s failure, which felt like sweet, gratifying justice.
Two Cosanta crossed the arena—Arlow’s defender and the young blonde woman. The man asked the question none of them had heard in a week’s time.
“What is your name?”
“Sung Ko-Jin.”
“Welcome, my brother, Sung Ko-Jin.” He grasped the boy’s forearm. “You are Cosanta, and one of us.”
Yarrow stood and applauded with such vigor the palms of his hands stung. He watched as the small Chaskuan boy clasped forearms with Ander and made his way into the Cosanta benches. Even Britt’s freckled face had lost its surliness and split into a rare smile.
“Yarrow,” Ander said, the flesh around his dark eyes crinkled, “why don’t you show our new brother around?”
Yarrow didn’t have to be asked twice. He hopped from his seat and turned his back on the arena, glad to forgo witnessing more testing that day. It troubled him, having to sit and appear complicit as his friends were tormented. The newest Cosanta boy joined him as he climbed the stair, keeping his pace deliberately slow, and reentered the gardens.
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” Yarrow asked his brother.
“Ko-Jin,” the boy said. He held out a hand. “And you’re Yarrow, right? Bray, Arlow, and Peer talk about you.”
Yarrow’s eyebrows shot up. “She does?”
“Yes,” Ko-Jin said with an unconcerned shrug. Whatever they said, it must not have been terribly interesting.
Yarrow led the way into the Cosanta quarter of the Temple grounds, his robes billowing around his feet.
“Our rooms are in here,” Yarrow said, opening the door to one of the larger buildings. “You can take any of the ones down this hall. I’m in here.” He pointed at the oaken door at the far end.
“Should I go back and get my things?” Ko-Jin asked.
“I doubt it. They’ll probably be brought for you,” Yarrow said. Having had no things to move, nor a room in the plebe quarters, he could not speak with any authority on the matter.
Yarrow led the way back out into the sunny afternoon and turned a corner. “That’s the dining hall, there.”
Ko-Jin sidled up to the window and peered in. He let out a long whistle. “It’s a lot nicer than where we eat—I mean the plebes.”
“What did you all do over there,” Yarrow asked, “aside from the testing?” He had spent more hours than he’d care to admit wondering how his friends occupied their time.
Ko-Jin turned from the dining hall and stumbled, his ill-formed foot catching on a root. Yarrow rushed forward to catch him.
“I’m alright,” Ko-Jin said, steadying himself.
Yarrow retracted his hand and nodded.
“We play a game,” Ko-Jin said. “Smugglers and Scrutineers. Maybe you can play with us tomorrow?”
Yarrow shook his head. “I can’t, and neither can you. We aren’t permitted to talk to the plebes.”
He felt a pang of jealousy—he wished he could have spent the last week playing games with Bray and the rest. Life as a Cosanta thus far had been a boring, lonely business.
“Why not?” Ko-Jin asked.
Yarrow strolled to the main lawn and took a seat on one of the benches. He explained—the nature of the test, why it was necessary, and why the full Chisanta must be kept separate from the plebes. Ko-Jin listened and nodded, but did not look pleased.
“I hope she passes soon,” he said.
Yarrow’s lips tightened; he had been hoping the same thing all week. Now, he felt a little foolish. Clearly Ko-Jin and Bray had grown close as well. Perhaps their friendship—Yarrow and Bray’s—was not as special to her as it was to him. Maybe she was as close, or closer, with the others by now.
“What’s this place for?” Ko-Jin asked, pointing to the circle of green grass before them.
“This is where we practice the Ada Chae,” Yarrow said.
“The…?”
“Ada Chae,” Yarrow repeated slowly. “It’s the Cosanta meditation forms. You’ve probably seen it by now.”
“Oh, the dance?”
Yarrow laughed. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t call it that. I made that mistake and received a very tedious lecture.”
“Why?”
“You heard that Chiona bloke call Ander a dance master, right?”
“Yes.” Ko-Jin stood and crossed to the center of the grassy circle.
“That was an insult,” Yarrow explained, following. “The Chiona are always belittling us like that. It’s a martial art form and a meditation, not a dance. For instance, the opening and closing move—Warm Hands over Fire—would knock away an opponent’s arms and break their collarbone in combat. If it is a dance, it’s a brutal one.”
Ko-Jin didn’t appear to be listening. He stared down at his feet, a sharp crease forming between his brows. “Have you learned it yet?”
“You don’t have to learn it,” Yarrow said. “You already know it. It’s the strangest thing, really. But when you start, it’s like your body already knows the next step. You’ll see. We all do the Ada Chae together in the mornings. Britt will show you tomorrow.”
Yarrow refrained from mentioning that Britt was a rather terrifying instructor.
Ko-Jin’s cheeks had grown steadily pinker. “Together?” he asked.
“Yes,” Yarrow said, beginning to understand the boy’s embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. I mean, you passed the test. You are Cosanta.”
“Do you think…” Ko-Jin asked, speaking to his feet, “maybe you could show me…you know, so I can see if I can…”
“Of course,” Yarrow said. “No problem.”
Yarrow began by demonstrating the proper posture. Ko-Jin assumed the stance with difficulty, as his back was not straight, but Yarrow assured him he was doing fine.
“You just have to imagine a cord running through your body,” Yarrow said, “starting through the middle of your head and going straight down into the earth squarely between your feet.”
Ko-Jin closed his eyes and concentrated. Yarrow backed up a few paces and was surprised to find the boy’s back much straighter than it had appeared initially.
“Perfect,” Yarrow said. “Now I can show you the opening move. The rest will come naturally.”
Yarrow aligned his own posture and moved effortlessly into the opening stance, Warm Hands Over Fire. He sunk deep into the earth, then, ever so slowly, lifted his hands up, palms facing the ground, until they were at shoulder level.
Ko-Jin watched him closely. “That’s it?”
“That’s the first stance, yes. Now you try.”
Yarrow bit his lip as Ko-Jin began, hoping. Then his jaw dropped, like a cartoon in the funnies section of the Dalish Times.
Ko-Jin moved, not only as if he were straight-backed and sure-footed, but with an uncommon amount of grace. He, in truth, made it look a dance.
He shifted fluidly from Warm Hands Over Fire to Brush the Dragonfly, then Taking Flight and Graze Leg. He opened his eyes, startled, and his form retreated back into its normal posture.
“Did you feel it?” Yarrow asked.
A bird in a nearby tree let out a startling squawk and the boy jumped.
“Yes,” Ko-Jin said. He ran a trembling hand through his dark, silky hair. “What the Spiritblighter was that?”
“The Aeght a Seve,” Yarrow said, taking a seat on the grass and gesturing for Ko-Jin to do the same. “It means ‘the place of five.’ It’s this other place your mind goes—only Chisanta can enter it.”
“Even Chiona?”
“Yes. But they don’t do the Ada Chae. I’m not sure how they get there. But it’s like your mind leaves your body and you end up in this sort of ethereal place. That’s where the gifts come from.”
“What does it look like?” Ko-Jin ask
ed. He curled his feet beneath him.
Yarrow’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to do it. Britt say’s I’ve got some kind of block, that most people have no problem.”
Yarrow had gotten to the cusp of entering the Aeght a Seve uncountable times. As he moved through the forms he could feel his mind beginning to slip, the world shifting before him. Britt said that all he needed to do was allow this—to fall, slide out of this world and into the Aeght a Seve. It was a simple thing, she said. Only, Yarrow found he could not do it. The sensation of his mind leaving his body was, to him, utterly alarming. No matter how often she chastised him, or how often he chastised himself, every time he felt reality begin to slip away he mentally grabbed for it, reached for it as a drowning man kicks for the surface. It was like telling a person not to throw out their arms as they fell to the ground, when every ounce of instinct and self-preservation screamed otherwise.
“What do you mean that’s where the gifts come from?” Ko-Jin asked.
“Well—the first gift is free, you know. All you have to do is go to the Aeght a Seve and you’ll receive it. That’s why I’m dying to get there.”
“I think I’m going to try again,” Ko-Jin said, pushing himself up into a standing position.
“Just let yourself slip into it,” Yarrow said, borrowing the words Britt had said to him time and again.
Yarrow watched as Ko-Jin began the Ada Chae once more. He was prepared for the transformation in his new friend this time, but it was still a wonderful thing to behold. As he stepped gracefully through the motions, his back straightened and his twisted foot bore weight properly.
Yarrow watched his eyes for a sign that he had succeeded; for that was where the difference could be seen. People in the Aeght a Seve looked as though they were somewhere else. Ko-Jin’s eyes vacillated between concentration and blankness. He must be teetering on the edge, as Yarrow had done many times that week. Then, quite clearly, Ko-Jin’s eyes went entirely blank. His body continued to move, with increased skill and poise. And then, before Yarrow’s very eyes, he saw the boy’s back grow and curve upright, his bowed leg straighten—and though his lower extremities were shod, Yarrow felt confident that beneath the slippers there were now two perfectly functioning feet. The boy expanded like a deflated balloon puffed with new air. All the while, his newly strengthened body continued to perform the Ada Chae, now with a beauty unmatched by any Cosanta Yarrow had yet seen. He wished, suddenly, that Bray could be there to see this, because he knew he would never be able to find words to describe to her this moment.
Ko-Jin’s eyes regained their focus as he swept into Lover’s Quarrel, then Foreigner’s Negation, and finally closed with Warm Hands over Fire.
“Spirits above, Ko-Jin, look at you,” Yarrow said, bounding to his feet and circling around the boy.
He stood now slightly taller than Yarrow and considerably better muscled.
Ko-Jin looked down at himself with an expression of utter shock. He kicked off his shoes and stared down at two perfect feet. He wriggled his toes.
“Well, how does it feel?” Yarrow prompted.
Ko-Jin looked up at him with an expression of sublime joy—his mouth was stretched into a wide smile, his dark eyes glittering.
He didn’t answer with words, but let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cheer. He jumped up and down, testing his newly-altered appendages. He flexed his bicep and poked at the lump of muscle that appeared there.
Then he threw himself at Yarrow, wrapped him in an earnest embrace and slapped his back with such force it knocked the air from Yarrow’s lungs.
Yarrow laughed. He might have felt jealous that Ko-Jin had succeeded so quickly where he had failed all week, but who could possibly feel such a selfish emotion in the face of such well-earned exuberance?
“I want to run,” Ko-Jin declared. “Let’s go down to the beach.”
“Alright,” Yarrow said.
They set off, Yarrow forcing his legs to keep up with Ko-Jin’s pace.
Later that night, Yarrow woke, floundering in his sheets. His heart raced in his chest and his hair clung to his forehead with sweat.
He threw himself from the bed and knelt by his nightstand. He ripped open the drawer and extracted his only things of value—his father’s knife and his mother’s handkerchief—and clutched them tightly in his fists. He slid down onto the floor, leaning against the side of his bed.
Just a dream, he told himself. It was just a dream. But that knowledge did not chase the images from his mind. He could not remember having such a vivid dream in all his life. He could still feel the heat of the fire, taste the smoke, see the faces of his parents, of his siblings—Ree and Allon and Rendal—as they burned alive, turning to ash before his eyes.
Just a dream…
He wiped angrily at the tears that ran down his flaming cheeks. It must have been that fire in Gallan that had put the notion in his head, but now he could not shake it. What if his family were in trouble? How could he ever help, if he was all the way in Chasku and completely ignorant of how they fared?
Yarrow took several deep breaths. He pulled himself back up onto the bed, though he still held the tokens his parents had given him. He wished he had a better connection with them than mere inanimate objects.
He closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow, waiting for the sleep that he knew would never come.
Chapter Seven
“How is he?” Bray asked.
“He’ll be alright—he’s just a mite sore,” Peer said. “He’s got three cracked ribs.”
Bray hadn’t managed to see Arlow since the day before, when he’d been injured. A medic had shooed her off. Apparently, there was no acceptable reason for a girl to visit a boy.
Bray frowned. “It isn’t right, Peer.”
He nodded and ran his fingers through his light hair, leaving it sticking up in the front.
“How can they treat us like this?” Bray continued. “We should just leave—all of us. Leave them to test themselves.” She kicked at an offending flower in the garden.
“I doubt they’d let us,” Peer said. The last rays of the sunset gleamed off of his puffy, blackened eye. “Besides, where would we go? Back home?”
“I’m never going home,” Bray said.
“Nor I,” Peer said.
“Your parents did sound awful.” Bray looked up at Peer thoughtfully. “Were they so bad?”
He studied his striding feet for a long moment. Bray sat down on a bench beneath a fragrant tree and he followed her example.
“Guess I haven’t mentioned I was adopted?” he said at last.
“No, you haven’t.” Bray crossed her arms and waited for him to proceed.
“Don’t remember my parents, if I ever had any. Growing up, I was in and out of foster homes all across Daland. Problem is, people don’t take in kids out of kindness most times. They want the free labor. The couple that adopted me was barren. Since they couldn’t make little field hands of their own, they took me on. I was more a slave than a son. Even so, that woman always said I should be grateful. Like the hoe she handed me was as good as a ma’s love.”
A bird on a nearby limb let out a low, sweet note.
“Besides, I hate farming,” he concluded.
Bray patted his hand and leaned back deeper into the bench. She was tempted to ask more questions; if it weren’t for her uncle, she would have been thrust into the same system. The look on Peer’s face arrested her tongue, however. “Where should we go then? I hear Adourra is nice.”
“I don’t think I’d like the heat. What about the Painted Mere?” Peer suggested.
Bray yawned and let her head fall onto Peer’s shoulder. “Mm, that would be lovely. Wake me when we get there.” She closed her eyes, her mouth curved into a small smile.
“Still aren’t sleeping?”
She stifled another yawn. “No, not much.”
“You can rest here as long as you like. I don’t mind,” he said
.
Bray knew she should rouse herself and be off to bed, but she enjoyed the twittering of the birds, the sweet smell of flowers, and the last warmth of the setting sun on her face. She was not sure how long she slept—or even if she had—but when she awoke to the sound of hurried feet, the sun had gone, leaving only the barest smudge of orange on the horizon.
“Peer, Bray!” Roldon said, coming to a halt in front of them, panting.
Bray sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”
“We think we found something,” Roldon said, his voice teeming with excitement. “Right, Adearre?”
The Adourran at his side nodded.
“What is it?” Peer asked.
“Just come. We’ll show you,” Roldon said. He grabbed them each by the hands and yanked them up off of the bench. Bray saw no reason to protest. Her sleepiness had passed. They strode after Roldon, who kept speeding into a run, then slowing again when he saw them fall behind.
Adearre fell into step beside Bray. “How is Arlow?”
“He’ll be alright,” Peer said. Adearre nodded and they continued on in silence.
Roldon took them into a part of the Temple grounds Bray had not visited—a small cemetery with several tall, weathered statues. Deadly silence greeted them. Bray found the entire place foreboding. Though they had never been warned away from any area in the Temple, she felt distinctly as though they were trespassing.
Roldon must have felt this way as well, because he whispered, rather than spoke aloud, “It’s just up here.”
He led them through a gap in the bushes, along the side of a structure Bray suspected was a mausoleum.
“There.” Roldon gestured at an intricately designed grate in the wall. “I was looking for places to hide for the game tomorrow—but look there.” He pointed to the far left, within the darkness of the hole. “Doesn’t that look like a sword?”
It did, Bray thought. Whatever it was, it glinted dully in the moonlight. She thought she could discern the shape of a hilt. She pressed her cheek up against the cold metal of the grate, seeking a better view.
The Complete Marked Series Box Set Page 8