by Dylan Steel
“Um, yeah?” Sage wrinkled her eyebrows.
“With you?”
She nodded.
“Good. Give it to me.” Mr. Walsh pressed his lips together tightly.
Sage reached back and pulled the picture from her waistband.
“I thought you said you didn’t need it.”
Mr. Walsh nodded hastily as he grabbed it. “You’re right. I don’t. Not really. In fact, I’m going to go put it back where it belongs in just a moment. You can go back to your seat, Sage.”
She reluctantly turned to head back.
“Oh, actually, Sage—” Mr. Walsh began then hesitated.
She turned back around. “Yeah?”
“—I was wondering…” He glanced around uncertainly. “Did you put all your research books back in the right place before I sent you to the cataloguing room?”
“Mmhmm,” she said.
“Alright… ok… good.” He looked relieved. “You really can go back to your seat now.”
“Ok.” She turned again but then stopped. “Oh, but there was one time I didn’t technically see where the books came from before I put them back. But Penelope told me where they went, and I’m sure I put them back right. You know, it was when my shoulder was—”
The color drained from his face.
“Are you ok, Mr. Walsh?”
He shook his head deliberately. “I’m actually not feeling very well at the moment, Sage. And I need to ask something terrible of you.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
***
Sage slipped back into the chair beside Penelope. She picked up a book and opened it in the middle.
“Oh, you’re back. What was that all about?” Penelope raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing,” Sage mumbled. Her eyes were glued to the book she was holding.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure approaching their table. She hunched a little lower, staring harder at the words on the page.
“Sage Idarra?” It was the first time Mr. Gramples had ever addressed her.
She kept her eyes glued to the page.
Mr. Gramples cleared his throat. “Ms. Indarra,” he said more loudly.
“Yes?” she said without looking up, choking down nausea.
Penelope shot her a look.
“Ms. Indarra, put the book down and come with me, please.” Not waiting for an answer, he turned and began waddling back toward his office at an unusually fast clip.
Sage set the book on the table and shuffled after him slowly.
Mr. Gramples’ office was a smallish room with bare walls. The only chair available was parked squarely behind his desk.
Clearly, he was unaccustomed to entertaining visitors, which made the remaining scene even more unusual. Another man was already there, standing stiffly in one corner. He appeared to be waiting for them, and he narrowed his eyes at Sage when she entered the room. He was studying her.
He seemed familiar, yet Sage couldn’t figure out why.
“Have a seat, Ms. Indarra.” Mr. Gramples pulled the chair out from behind his desk.
She sat down slowly, fixing her eyes on a spot on the floor.
“This is Mr. Gaztok, Ms. Indarra. Do you know who he is?”
Sage nodded. She remembered how she knew him as soon as she heard his name. “Sort of. He spoke on Founders’ Day.”
“That’s right.” Mr. Gramples cooed condescendingly. “And do you know why you’re here, Ms. Indarra?”
She shook her head.
Mr. Gramples nostrils flared, but his tone was even as he spoke. “There have been rumors.”
He paused to see if she would look up. When she didn’t, he continued. “Rumors that are very disturbing.”
Her eyes were locked on the ground. Mr. Gramples looked helplessly at Mr. Gaztok, but he remained unmoving and silent.
“Ms. Indarra, we need to know. Have you been studying the period of time before Eprah?”
Sage’s heart raced, but she said nothing.
“With Mr. Walsh’s knowledge and approval?”
She clenched her teeth.
Mr. Gramples growled, bending closer. “We know. There’s no point in denying it. Ms. Baubbelle found books out of place in that section. And another student came forward and said that you were flaunting a relic in front of your classmates. And that you said you had permission to have it.”
“I did not! Carnabel’s such a liar!” Sage snapped. Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly looked back at the floor.
Mr. Gramples crossed his arms and leaned back.
“Young lady, you are going to be in very serious trouble if you have been taking relics out of this building. Or if you have been studying unapproved topics.”
“I never flaunted anything,” Sage protested.
“Then how would you know who accused you of doing just that?” Mr. Gramples shot back.
She snapped her mouth closed. Tears were stinging at her eyes, but she fought them back.
“Are you aware of what the consequences are for those actions, Ms. Indarra? Have you ever heard of students being shunned?”
The knot in her stomach turned into a boulder. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do.
“Please—I didn’t mean to do anything against Eprah. I thought it was ok.” She took a deep breath and cringed inwardly at her next words. “Mr. Walsh approved the topic. And he let me take a relic.”
“I see,” Mr. Gramples leered.
“Why was your presentation only on the early years? If you thought it was ok—why wouldn’t you have presented all of your research?” He pressed harder.
He’d obviously seen her presentation.
“I—he told me I hadn’t found anything worth presenting.” Sage swallowed hard. It was halfway true.
“And the relic you had outside of the Archives? Who has it now? Mr. Walsh?”
She nodded miserably.
A mixture of extreme satisfaction and anger came over Mr. Gramples face. He turned to the other guest in the room.
“Is that everything you needed?”
Mr. Gaztok nodded. “From her,” he said mechanically. “But I’ll still need to find him of course.”
“Of course. Don’t worry. He can’t have gotten far. The building’s been locked down.”
Despite his reassurances, Mr. Gramples squirmed uncomfortably under Mr. Gaztok’s gaze. He turned back to Sage. “Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Indarra. You can go rejoin your classmates. But I would strongly recommend you not mentioning this conversation to anyone.”
Sage stood slowly. Her legs felt like lead. Mr. Walsh was in deep trouble, and it was all her fault. She’d betrayed him to save herself.
She stopped in the doorway. A sudden dizziness overtook her—her whole body was revolting against her and what she’d just done. She forced herself to face her interrogators.
“What’s going to happen to Mr. Walsh?”
“That’s not your concern,” Mr. Gaztok said icily.
The door slammed in her face.
***
The story continues in The Relic: Sacrisvita Book III. (Keep reading for an excerpt...)
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-Dylan
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THE RELIC: Sacrisvita Book III - Excerpt
1. MR. STRICK
“Careful. He’s in a terrible mood today,” Penelope warned.
Sage rolled her eyes as they
passed in the hallway. “He’s always in a terrible mood.” She pushed open the classroom door.
Penelope bit her lip and looked back at the room uncertainly before walking away.
Sage shrugged off her friend’s concern as she made her way to an empty desk near the back of the class. She set down her databook and sank into the chair.
Glancing back at the doorway, she watched as the rest of her classmates trickled in. She let out a sigh of relief when Carnabel picked a seat on the other side of the room, but she had trouble hiding her irritation when Everett plunked his things on the desk beside hers.
She forced her eyes forward. Their instructor was hunched over his databook, frantically swiping his finger across the screen, mumbling to himself. He slapped his palm down on his desk suddenly but didn’t look up, unaware that he had startled all the students. His brow furrowed further, but his eyes remained fixed on the tablet in front of him. Clearly, something on his screen held his full attention, and it was making him quite unhappy.
Mr. Strick was perfectly unremarkable in height and stature, and his hair hung limply over his ears and forehead, often shadowing his already dark eyes. But he was precisely the type of instructor that the Institution loved. He was fiercely loyal to Eprah and didn’t stand for any talk that would paint the cherished nation in a negative light.
It was no surprise that he had taken over the majority of the classes that Mr. Walsh had suddenly left unattended in his absence. The Institution wanted to be sure it remained in complete control of every aspect of its charges’ education, and Mr. Strick was just the man for the job.
Only Sage knew why the former history instructor had disappeared, and despite the overwhelming urge to chime in when her classmates were busy speculating, she hadn’t told anyone.
She hadn’t told anyone that she’d gone against every instinct—that her whole being screamed at her when she admitted what Mr. Walsh had encouraged her to research all year.
She hadn’t told anyone that she snuck into the Archives’ basement after meeting with Mr. Gramples and Mr. Gaztok—that she’d attempted to warn Mr. Walsh. That she had hidden and watched silently as Dignitary of the Peace officers found and arrested the only instructor who seemed to care about her. That she’d watched them drag him out of the Archives through an underground exit.
She hadn’t told anyone those secrets. Penelope suspected something was wrong, but she hadn’t pressed Sage for answers. And Sage was grateful for that. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone—even Penelope. She hated herself for what she’d done.
A tone sounded, signaling the official start of the class. The stragglers sprinted to grab a seat before their instructor could look up and reprimand them.
Several minutes passed, and the students began fidgeting. Mr. Strick hadn’t said a word yet. His eyes were still glued to the screen in front of him.
Silence gave way to a light hum as the Level Nines started whispering. Sage wondered what could be so important that Mr. Strick hadn’t even noticed class was supposed to have started already. He was usually quite eager to instill Eprah’s accolades into the young minds in his care.
“Um, Mr. Strick?” Marnie piped up hesitantly from the front row as the volume in the room steadily grew.
A cup soared through the air, aimed in Marnie’s general direction. Dark brown liquid spilled along its trail and seemed to explode along with the cup when it finally hit the ground. Sage was especially glad she’d chosen to sit so far back today—the shattered cup had managed to drench the students in the center of the first four rows.
“Quiet!” he hissed without looking up.
Marnie and her fellow soaked classmates sat still, frozen in disbelief. No one said a word.
Mr. Strick squinted and craned his neck closer to the databook. His eyes continued to dart back and forth across the screen. Without warning, he stood quickly, slamming the databook against his desk.
He gritted his teeth. “Turn to chapter three,” he addressed the class without explanation.
“Sir?” Pippa started cautiously.
Mr. Strick flashed her a look of warning. “Chapter three.”
Pippa seemed to debate for a moment whether or not to ask her question. She closed her mouth and turned her attention to her databook, tucking a wet clump of hair behind her ear.
Sage suppressed a grin. She was pretty sure she knew what Pippa wanted to ask. Poor Pippa and the others would likely have to stay wet the rest of the class. He was in no mood to excuse them to clean up after his outburst.
“Independent reading today, class. And there will be a quiz on the material later this week.” He bent over the desk, balancing his weight on the tips of his fingers. “You all know today’s the deadline for deciding which Interest Society you’ll join this year. I hope you’ve made your selection already because I’ll be calling each of you up to take your official requests.”
Mr. Strick sat back down and tapped his databook a couple times, clearly still irritated.
“Laana, you’re first.”
The girl looked mortified. She stood and began timidly making her way to the front of the room as slowly as she dared.
Sage didn’t envy her, but she didn’t feel particularly bad for her either. Everyone was an equal target for Mr. Strick’s anger.
She tried to focus on the assigned reading, but her mind wandered. Interest Society choices had to be made today. After spending two weeks trying out some of the different options, her choice had been easy. She just wished she could inform a different instructor. Everything about Mr. Strick made her nervous and uncomfortable, and she didn’t want to spend more time around him than was absolutely necessary.
The steady rhythm of students walking to and from his desk made it nearly impossible to concentrate. That, and the general dread she felt of hearing her name called.
“Sage.” Mr. Strick’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts.
She set her databook down and stood, making her way toward the front of the classroom.
“First choice.” He didn’t even look up. The command came as soon as she was standing beside his desk. He didn’t bother posing it as a question.
Sage hesitated.
“Indarra?” He finally peeled his eyes from his databook to look at her. “Do I need to make the choice for you?”
“No, sir.” Sage bit the inside of her cheek. “I know which one I want.”
Mr. Strick sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. “Well, which is it? I’m not going to guess.”
“The Historical Interest Society,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
His eye twitched. He raised an eyebrow and spoke a bit more quietly. “You know we encourage you to select a different Interest each year.”
“I know.”
“And you know that I’ve taken over that particular Interest Society? That, unless something changes, you would be reporting to me at the end of the year?”
Sage nodded. She could feel her face reddening.
He leaned forward and spoke in a voice low enough that only Sage could hear. “We both know what happened to my predecessor,” he growled, “and we both know the role you played in it. This doesn’t seem wise, girl.”
She swallowed hard, pushing down the bile she felt rising in her throat.
“I feel I was cheated last year, sir,” she continued, ignoring the barb. “I should have had more time to study a more narrow topic.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “I see. Have you a second and third choice?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head. No one ever needed a second choice for the Historical Interest Society—it wasn’t exactly in high demand.
“Very well.” Mr. Strick glared at her. “Your preference will be taken into account. But I make no promises to you. As you know, there are many factors that play into your ultimate assignment. Now take your seat, Ms. Indarra.”
Sage returned to her desk and exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
/> Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she should have made a different choice. But she knew she owed Mr. Walsh something. And she was more convinced than ever that Eprah was hiding some secrets of its own.
***
End of preview.
Continue reading The Relic: Sacrisvita Book III.
READ MORE BY DYLAN STEEL
Sacrisvita
THE PRODIGY: A Sacrisvita Prequel
(FREE and only available HERE.)
THE INSTITUTION: Sacrisvita Book I
THE ARCHIVES: Sacrisvita Book II
THE RELIC: Sacrisvita Book III
THE ESTATE: Sacrisvita Book IV
THE VANISHED: Sacrisvita Book V
THE CAPTIVE: Sacrisvita Book VI
THE OUTCAST: Sacrisvita Book VII
THE TRIALS: Sacrisvita Book VIII
THE ROGUE: Sacrisvita Book IX
THE CITIZEN: Sacrisvita Book X
THE SURVIVOR: Sacrisvita Book XI
***
Third Earth
SLEEPER: A Third Earth Prequel
(FREE and only available HERE.)
ALONE: Third Earth Volume One
***
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