I frowned, and realized I had been leaning a lot on Quess recently. I’d been leaning on all of them a lot, asking them to see to the things that I should really have been helping with in the first place.
“Good,” I said, giving him an approving nod. “And I’m sorry for putting so much on you.”
“It’s okay,” he announced with a modest shrug. “Thankfully, all the cadet courses are canceled for the remainder of the Tourney, so I have a lot more free time to get more done.”
I winced. Even though I needed our other objectives met, I needed Quess tomorrow, and for the rest of the Tourney, to keep an eye out and search for anyone who seemed to be overly interested in us. If we could identify them, I hoped we could identify whether they were working for someone—and who.
Quess noticed my expression, and sighed theatrically. “What do you need me to do?”
I gave him an apologetic look. “I’m going to need you in the crowds tomorrow during the qualifiers. More specifically, I want you up in the rafters. Keep an eye out for anyone who keeps showing up where we are, or seems like they’re following us. If you see anyone suspicious, take their picture and we’ll give it to Ambrose later, to send to Lacey.”
He considered it for a second, and then nodded. “All right.”
“What about me?” Tian chirped, wiping chocolate off her face with the back of her arm. “Am I in the crowd as the smallest super spy ever? Or… S.S.S., as I like to call it.” She hissed the sound “ssssss”, making me smile.
“You’re letting a child be a spy?” Leo asked, cocking his head at me and spearing me with a curious look. “Fascinating, but not altogether unprecedented.”
“I’m actually not,” I corrected him with a laugh. “Tian, you have your own super-secret mission, remember?”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I know, but every place I go, nothing is speaking to me! Cogstown and Water Treatment are both being quiet, and I don’t know why. Although, I might have heard some humming by the hydro turbines yesterday. Maybe there’s something tucked up underneath—”
“Absolutely not,” Quess said, setting his mug down with a thunk. “Sorry, Tian, but you stay away from the hydro turbines. Promise me, right now.”
Tian immediately looked contrite. “I promise,” she said, sounding two parts mystified and one part scared.
“Thank you,” Quess breathed, sounding clearly relieved, and I couldn’t blame him. Even my own heart had lurched sideways at the thought of Tian doing something as dangerous as trying to navigate the hydro turbines. The massive machines sucked in hundreds of gallons of water from the river outside, and had thousands of working parts that she could get caught in or fall from… There was no way any of us were letting her take that risk.
Luckily, Quess was proving to be an excellent guardian for her, so I didn’t need to be overly concerned.
“Well, keep looking, Tian,” I said gently. “I’m sure you’ll find us a really good place for our new home, but just remember—Quess and Grey aren’t the best lashers.”
She seemed to think about that for a long moment. “Right,” she breathed. “That changes things. Hm.”
I could see the gears in her head whirling, but didn’t pry. Quess and Maddox both had faith in Tian’s ability to find tucked away and hidden rooms around the Tower, and I trusted them—and her.
“Okay, well, I think that pretty much takes care of everything,” I said. “We should use whatever time we can to train.”
Quess nodded and hit the button on his device, shutting off the field it was generating. Leo and I stood, bade quick goodbyes to Tian and Quess, and then stepped into the hall to leave them to finish their check. They were also going to babysit both apartments, to make sure no one tried to access them while we were gone.
Outside, I started to cross the hall toward Ambrose’s apartment, but Leo reached out and grabbed my forearm in a firm grip. I looked over my shoulder at him and then pivoted. “What is it?” I asked.
“Has there been any word from your brother yet about Scipio?” he asked.
He looked at me with hopeful eyes, and I felt bad that I didn’t have anything for him, but there hadn’t been a peep from Alex.
“Nothing yet,” I said softly, and immediately put a hand on his shoulder when he seemed to droop. “I’m sure it’s just taking some time because Alex is being cautious,” I said, in an attempt to soothe him. “And don’t forget—I want to find Jasper, too.”
“For your Paragon?” he asked, and there was a touch of bitterness in his voice.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. It was more than that. Jasper had saved my life, and helped me save my best friend from a fate that was literally death, and I owed him for that. “He’s my friend,” I finally explained, and Leo shot me a tremulous smile.
We stood there for a second or two, not talking, and when it started to border on awkward, I cleared my throat and pointed to Ambrose’s door.
“Shall we?” I asked. “It’s time for us to go train with Ambrose and Maddox.”
Leo looked at it with a slightly haunted expression, and then nodded. “Let’s go,” he replied.
16
A yawn cracked my face, causing me to shut my eyes as it overtook me. It felt like forever before it passed, and once it did, my eyes were watering slightly from the force of it. I shook my head, trying to knock the morning’s residual sleepiness out of my skull, and looked around.
It was early, but there was already a steady stream of people moving from the halls into the entrances of the Salles. We stood just beyond the lines, back behind a mobile partition that had the words Competitors Only on the side.
I was leaning against the wall, Maddox beside me, watching Ambrose and Leo. They were at the official’s desk, seated just below one of the many statues that lined the high walls of the hallway. Metal sconces ran between the statues, emitting warm yellow light that reached all the way up to the ceiling, illuminating all of the figures.
I kept my eyes on Ambrose and Leo, though, watching as the woman behind the desk handed Ambrose a plastic sheet. The two men moved a few feet away, and I tapped Maddox on the wrist and pointed over at them.
She nodded, and together we began to push through the crowds of people waiting in line to receive their schedules. Through the door just behind them, I could already hear cheering and the sounds of battle, but I had no idea what was happening to elicit such an excited response.
Maddox and I came to a stop right in front of where the two men were waiting, just on one side of the door.
“What’s our schedule?” I asked, nodding at the plastic film, which displayed a digital readout of the times and places we were to report to. Ambrose held it firmly between two fingers and studied the digital display for a second, his eyes going over the glowing letters.
“Hand-to-hand is first,” he said. He checked the clock on his indicator and narrowed his eyes. “We need to be at ring twenty-one in fifteen minutes.”
“There’s plenty of time,” I said, noting the urgency in his voice. “Relax. We’re right on time for the plan anyway, remember?”
That seemed to settle him some, and he handed the film off to me and headed for the door. We all moved into position around him, but I lagged a few steps behind, going over the details for our events. After hand-to-hand, we had to report immediately to the baton qualifiers. On the one hand, that was good—it meant we got two events over and done, and saved ourselves traveling time. But it also meant more time out in the arena… which meant more exposure to anyone working against us.
With that thought, I picked up my pace and tucked in closer behind Ambrose.
The wide oval doors spread open as we passed, and I looked around to see what had changed since yesterday. Stadium-style seating that folded into the walls was now fully drawn out, creating a half circle around the arena. Several people in different-colored uniforms were sitting on the seats, watching the events. Some were grouped together, some sat by themselves—but
they were all watching the space below, or the screen on the wall behind it.
The area around the bleachers had been cleared of all equipment, and now contained several fighting rings, which were laid out in a grid. Five rows of five rings, all separated by walking spaces in between. Over each ring, robotic drones recorded and transmitted the fights, which were broadcast on the screen that took up a large portion of the recently erected wall that cut the arena itself in half. Over half now, in fact; the space had been reduced even further to accommodate whatever construction was happening on the other side. By tomorrow, the rings would be gone, the remaining space used for whatever the first challenge was.
A fight was being displayed on the biggest screen now, and to my surprise, I saw it was Dylan’s hand-to-hand qualifier. The curvy young woman was in the process of flipping another Knight neatly over her back and unceremoniously onto his. She snapped a quick punch to his face before mule kicking another opponent rushing her from behind. He went flying backward, offscreen, and she straightened, taking a moment to brush her hair back. The drone grew close, and her face became larger on the screen. She was in the process of scanning the arena when she saw it watching her. She grinned, an attractive dimple forming in her cheek, and gave a two-fingered salute before running offscreen. The camera changed right afterward, to another fight in another ring, and I looked away.
Dylan had seemed so self-assured and confident, even when she smiled and saluted the camera. For me, the prospect of being recorded and displayed for everyone to see was slightly unnerving, but being shown on the screen was a way of garnering supporters, as it meant you were worth paying attention to.
And clearly, Dylan was worth paying attention to. The file Lacey had gotten with Dylan’s records painted an interesting picture. Apparently, her parents had died—first her mother, of Whispers, when she was young, and then her father later, in some sort of electrical fire. She was Cog-bred, but after her father died, she was cared for by her closest living relative—her aunt. Her aunt was Cog-bred, but had transferred to the Knights when she was fifteen, and had earned retirement after her hand was smashed in an unfortunate accident in the plunge.
Dylan and her aunt still lived together, with Dylan now caring for her, which was rare. Most Knights who suffered some sort of functional disfigurement chose to transfer departments, because they felt ashamed that they were unable to serve the Tower. If they weren’t able to transfer, or to find some new purpose helping the Tower, they eventually began dropping in rank, until they were forced to receive the Medica’s intervention services. Family would typically abandon them long before that point, so the fact that Dylan was still residing with her aunt, and had been for several years, spoke a great deal to her character, in my mind.
Everything else in Lacey’s report showed that she was, at the very least, a good Knight. Her record was exemplary, and her instructor reviews practically glowed with adulation for her bravery and dutiful nature to the Tower. Lacey’s search had gone deep, but there was no evidence of her being a legacy—or ever working with a legacy.
I thought about Dylan as we wound our way down the ramp that led into the open space of the arena and through the aisles, and watched the numbers displayed on the blue-static walls of the fence keeping fighters inside. Her nebulous legacy status aside, all signs pointed to the fact that she would make a good Champion, and I once again felt a moment of doubt about what we were doing.
We came to a stop just as I was reminding myself that we had no choice, and I looked up to see the number twenty-one floating on a static shield around a ring. The fence was much taller than normal, the four metal posts that generated it standing at least ten feet high from where they slid out of the floor.
In the ring, a team was in the process of pummeling each other with their fists. It was clear by the complete and utter pandemonium inside the ring that the style randomly selected for them was Last Man Standing.
For all of the hand-to-hand matches, there would be a style or objective picked by a program for the candidates to ensure that they were able to adapt to all challenges they might face. Last Man Standing was literally that: they fought until only one person remained, using a three-hit elimination system. Others, like King of the Hill, were a time trial, where you had to oust your opponent from their position, and then hold it for a certain period of time, defending your own position against the other team. Protect the Specialist was the one I most dreaded, as it came with the biggest liability in one of the team events—one person acting as the target while the others tried to keep them safe.
“You okay?” I looked over to see Maddox giving me a curious look, but there wasn’t any time to respond. The match that had been taking place inside the ring suddenly finished, with the participants leaving the field through an open slot in the static field, and we were being ushered through another opening opposite theirs.
Ambrose was waving at me, while four tall men streamed by him, entering the ring. They were clearly our opponents, and according to the film in my hand, their leader was a man by the name of Kody Tellerman. I clicked his name, and his information appeared, displaying a picture of a sandy-haired man with olive eyes and a crooked grin. His rank was a lowly Knight, but he was two years older than me. His test rankings were displayed next to his picture, along with a list of deeds that culminated in leading a fire response team to a fire that happened on Greenery 11.
I tucked the film away and followed Maddox into the ring, the shield dropping in place behind me with a sharp zzt sound that made the skin at the nape of my neck crawl. I shook it off and eyed Kody as we walked up, taking him in. Truthfully, I wasn’t intimidated by his records or test scores—but I wasn’t about to let my guard down, either. He was lean, with limbs that seemed slightly too long for his torso, but he held himself confidently.
Both he and Ambrose stepped forward to meet the official in the center of the ring. He was holding something in the palm of his hand, and as they approached, he gave them a slow nod, indicating that they should do something. I couldn’t see what they did, but words began to scroll from top to bottom on the blue surface of the static fence. At first, they were too fast to read, but then they gradually slowed, coming to a stop and settling on one: Protect the Specialist.
I suppressed a groan. One player on each team was designated the specialist, while the remaining three were the escorts. The escorts’ job was to protect the specialist. Each escort was eliminated if they sustained three direct blows to the torso, but if the specialist was hit once, the entire game was over.
Like I said, huge liability.
Luckily, we’d taken a good portion of yesterday training for this, and we had a plan in place.
“Who will be the specialist for your team?” the official asked Ambrose.
Ambrose gave a heavy sigh. “I will be,” he announced.
I knew that was hard for him to say. He hadn’t been happy about it yesterday, either, but he had agreed to it. Still, I was glad he had kept his word, and I recognized the gesture he was making by means of the sacrifice. The specialist was not who you wanted to be if you wanted to shine for the masses, but it was the safest place for him.
The official gave him a look of surprise, and then handed him a white patch, which Ambrose pressed down over his heart, marking himself as the specialist. “And you, Knight Tellerman?”
Kody studied Ambrose for a second, a bemused smile on his lips. “Same,” he announced arrogantly. This only made the official more confused—and had a similar effect on me.
“What’s wrong?” Maddox asked, leaning closer to me.
I stared at Kody for a second more as he pressed his own blue patch on, wondering why he had chosen the position. It was the least desirable spot on a team if you wanted any sort of glory.
“I’m not sure, but keep your guard up,” I replied, trusting my instincts, which said that he was up to something.
There was a huff beside me, and I turned to find Leo rolling his eyes, a dry smile
on his face. I blinked, surprised by his reaction, and then cocked my head.
“When did you start doing that?” I asked.
“I…” Leo frowned. “I think that was the first time.” He looked at me excitedly, his expression boy-like. “I was trying to express my feelings on how silly your statement was, as this is a fight, and our guards will inevitably be up. Did I do it right?”
I faltered, uncertain how to answer his question. “Yes?” I said, looking at Maddox. She gave me a wary and alarmed look, and I got the sense she didn’t want to touch this either. “Sorry, Leo, I’m not sure how to render judgment on an eye roll.” I hesitated, going over his words in my head for another second, and then added, “I will say that it was a lot to unpack with just one expression, so maybe try a sarcastic statement? There was a lot of nuance there that was lost.”
He accepted my answer with a smile, his pleasure at this new learning experience obvious. I found myself smiling as well, taking part in his simple joy at learning how to express more complex behaviors. It was amazing how fast he was learning and changing.
Amazing and a little endearing. And concerning. What happened if Leo liked feeling things like this? What if he liked having a body? What would I do then? What could I do then?
I shook off the line of questions, and with it the deep pit of anxiety that had started churning in my stomach, and returned my mind to the matter at hand. Ambrose was now standing next to us again, while the official in the ring gave us the traditional speech of what was and wasn’t permissible. I glanced over at Ambrose, who was wedged between Leo and me.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I know this isn’t where you want to be.”
“Let’s just try to end it quickly,” he breathed, tugging on his sleeves and staring straight ahead. “And if you can, leave their specialist for me.”
I sucked in a deep breath, digging for patience. A part of me wanted to remind him that wasn’t a good idea, especially with Kody acting so confident while taking the specialist position, but I held back. This was my compromise to him, and I had to show him I was going to have his back.
The Girl Who Dared to Think 3: The Girl Who Dared to Descend Page 16