Everyone starts yelling then. Most of the cadets run. Even Elessa backs off. Without the hobble, Bomar can shoot the lazel at full power.
I’m the only one who hasn’t moved, mostly because I’m so surprised. “How did you do that?” I ask.
“Every idiot knows how to disable one of those things,” Bomar scoffs. “But then every idiot knows lazels can’t hurt fontani.” He points the gun at me again. “Here’s your chance, Jax. I’m going to shoot on three. Let’s see if you can handle it.”
“Bomar,” I say, “don’t be stupid. You’re going to get us both in trouble.”
“One!” Bomar yells, starting to laugh again. “Two!”
He pulls the trigger on two. At first nothing happens, but Bomar keeps yanking on the trigger and finally there’s an icy crackle as the lazel goes off. The burst of null fizzles out about a meter away from me, before I even think to duck. Bomar hardly notices—he’s still trying to shoot me, whooping like it’s the most fun he’s ever had.
And then, all of a sudden, Bomar is gone—just gone, like he was never even there. Way across the range, I see Rhetor Croupo kneeling on the ground with his lazel ready to shoot. I wonder if he did shoot, if he saw what Bomar was doing and nulled him right there, and for a second all I can think is, He just killed Bomar! But there would have been a bluish shadow and some of the ground where Bomar was standing would be gone, too, and there isn’t any of that.
And then I see Bomar. He’s on the ground about five meters away, and looks totally confused—until he sees Fontanus Charles standing over him. Then he just looks scared.
TWENTY-THREE
JAX
Charles is another of our city’s fontani, one of the oldest anywhere. He looks like he’s maybe forty, but he’s been fighting since the very beginning of the war, more than five hundred years ago. He’s one of the best in the Legion, even though he doesn’t look very tough at all. He’s short and pale and a little flabby, and he has a round chin that makes his head look kind of like an eggplant, especially since his forehead goes way up with only a little curly hair around the top and sides. The first time I met him, I was thinking this exact thing, and he probably guessed because he said, “Oh, judge me by my size, do you?” He used this weird voice that reminded me of a frog, but he was smiling like it was supposed to be a joke. “When five hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not,” he said, in that same froggy voice. I was starting to think he might be crazy. The words all made sense, but they were in a different order from the way people usually talk. But then he said, in a totally normal voice, “Just kidding. You’ll probably look a lot better.” Since then I’ve learned that Charles can be really helpful; you just have to ignore him whenever he does something weird, which is often.
Rhetor Croupo has come sprinting from across the range, his face all tight and mad. He stops in front of Charles. “Fontanus Charles!” he says, saluting. “I appreciate the help, sir!”
Charles returns the salute. “Thought it would be a shame to have you null one of your cadets,” he says. “The Legion needs everyone it can get, even the exceptionally stupid.” Charles turns to Bomar. “How would you like to be a test subject for new artifices, Cadet?”
“Whatever happens will be better than he deserves, sir,” says Croupo. He looks down at Bomar, too. “Cadet Bomar! Understand that any of the three people standing before you now—Fontanus Charles, Fontanus Jaxten, and I—would have been entirely justified in ending your life before you could further endanger your fellow cadets. You will get to your feet and thank Fontanus Charles for saving your hide. You will then report to your section adjutant and wait until I am ready to escort you to the Curator’s office.”
Bomar has started to cry, but he does what Rhetor Croupo says. When he goes to where Elessa is waiting with the other cadets, they all take a few steps back, like they’re afraid they could get in trouble just by standing too close. I actually feel kind of sorry for him.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Croupo says to Charles.
“No, thank you,” Charles answers. “I’m just here to borrow one of your cadets for the day.” He grins at me. “What do you think, Jax? Fancy a field trip?”
“Field trip” is another of the weird things Charles says. It means when we travel somewhere outside Ninth City “for educational purposes,” as he puts it.
“Where are we going?” I ask. Charles’s field trips are usually fun, and they’re always exciting. Sometimes we practice the different techniques fontani use in battle. The reason we need to leave the city to practice is that, when we’re sparring, it helps to be far away from anything we wouldn’t want to break by accident. Other times, Charles just takes me places he wants me to see. Once we went really far south to watch glaciers, which are big cliffs of ice, falling into the ocean. There would be this sound like thunder, and a whole sheet of ice would gush down into the water. It was awesome. You’d never believe how different other parts of the world can be.
Every so often, we’ll visit one of the old cities, too, the ones from before the war. That’s usually not so fun. Once we went to Tokyo, which Charles said used to be one of the biggest cities in the world. Millions and millions of people lived there, and all of them died the day the Valentines came—all except the three who turned out to be fontani like Charles and me. Two of those fontani have been killed in the war, Charles said, and one is still fighting at the Front. Now Tokyo is just a few crumbly old towers. Charles used to live in a city called Vancouver, and there’s even less there. He was the only survivor. So yeah, going to the cities isn’t much fun. I’m a little nervous about this field trip but definitely excited.
“You’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip to sunnnnnny Bermuda!” Charles says in another of his weird voices, kind of half singing. As far as I’ve been able to figure out, “all-expenses-paid” means absolutely nothing.
Bermuda is Charles’s name for Area 22-53, an island way out in the middle of the ocean. Technically, it’s part of the Ninth Principate, but nobody actually lives there.
“Why?” I ask.
Charles raises his eyebrows. “Why do you think?”
“They’ve found another fontanus,” I say automatically.
“Fontana, actually,” Charles answers, smiling. “A girl, right around your age. The censors asked me to give her a little crash course on the history of the Valentine War.”
“So she’s from the settlements?” I’ve always been surprised at how little the people who live in the settlements actually know about our war with the Valentines, which is practically nothing. I guess we’ve got our reasons for “keeping them in the dark,” as Charles puts it. For one thing, we can’t really explain about the war without explaining about thelemity, and everyone seems to think that if the settlers knew about thelemity, they’d want it for themselves, too, and the problem there is we barely have enough fontani to power the cities, let alone hundreds of settlements. Well, maybe not everyone thinks that way. There are a few people, mostly at the Academy, who think we should tell the settlers everything, the way Charles is going to do for this one girl.
“No, actually,” Charles says. “The censors did find her in one of the settlements, but she comes from the unincorporated peoples.”
Now, that’s surprising. Before the war, the world was divided into a lot of different territories called “countries,” which Charles says were a little like our Principates only they usually had more than one city, and people could be spread out all over the place instead of walled up in a city or settlement. The countries were always squabbling over things, and sometimes even fought against each other, but after Romeo destroyed pretty much the whole world, the people who were left joined together to fight back. Eventually, they built the Principates, each with a big piece of the planet to defend, with one city to do the fighting and a bunch of settlements to help out. But there were some people left over, people
who went into hiding when the war started or were someplace so isolated they didn’t know what was happening and never ended up in a city or settlement. These people are called “the unincorporated peoples.” They have little societies all over the world, most of them living the way people did thousands of years ago. Kids at the Academy say the nocos live in caves, or huts made of mud or grass, that they wear animal skins and fight with spears and arrows—not that any of us has ever met one. “Really?” I ask Charles.
“Really,” he says. “Learning she’s fontani has been something of an adjustment, as I’m sure you can understand. I think you’ll be able to help her get used to it.” He pauses, the way he does when he’s getting ready to say something he knows I won’t like. “And I’d like your help getting her under control once she goes active.”
We’d been walking away from the firing range, but now I stop in my tracks. I should have figured out what Charles had planned, but I didn’t even think about it, probably because I didn’t want to. When fontani first get their power, they lose pretty much any sense of where they are or what’s happening. It’s sort of like being in a dream. The problem is, they can also do all these unbelievable things. Imagine a dinosaur sleepwalking, and you’ve pretty much got the idea. “Like a bull in a china shop” is how Charles puts it. It all means the same thing, which is that new fontani are really dangerous. That’s why we take them to Bermuda before they go active: because there’s about a thousand kilometers of ocean in every direction, so it’s less likely they’ll destroy anything important. We also make sure to have other fontani nearby, experienced fighters who can keep the new ones from doing too much damage. Bermuda is a total wreck, by the way.
Charles doesn’t have much trouble figuring out what I’m thinking. “You can stay behind if you want, Jax,” he says, “but this is your best chance to find out what it’s like to face fontani who don’t necessarily have your best interests in mind—and that’s something you need to learn before you find yourself up against a Valentine Zero.”
I know Charles is right. Romeo has fontani, too, same as us, and the better I get at fighting them, the more use I’ll be to the Legion. But it gives me a bad feeling, like standing alone in the Forum the last time Romeo attacked. Instead of answering Charles, I ask, “Was Rhetor Croupo really going to null Bomar back there?”
“No,” Charles says, laughing a little. “I’m sure Croupo had some nonlethal artifice ready. And I was watching the entire time, ready to step in if things became too unruly. I just wonder why you didn’t stop Bomar yourself.”
That’s a good question. It wasn’t that I was scared, not exactly. I knew that lazel couldn’t hurt me. I could have grabbed it right out of Bomar’s hand and not been in any danger at all, but I didn’t think to. It just seemed like the sort of thing a teacher should do, or a fighter or a leader, someone like Croupo or Charles or Vinneas. “I don’t know,” I mumble. “I guess I thought I’d do something wrong.”
“Not a problem,” Charles says, still smiling. “You’ll figure it out with practice. But I want you to understand that I wouldn’t have left you alone with Bomar if I didn’t think you could handle him, and I wouldn’t be taking you with me today if I didn’t think you were ready.”
“Really?” I’m not so sure. If Charles thinks I’m ready to fight other fontani, he might be crazy after all. I mean, we’ve done a lot of sparring, but I still can’t really imagine what it would be like.
“Really. But listen, let’s start out by meeting her. I’ll be training both of you from now on, so you might as well start getting to know each other now. And if you think you’re nervous, imagine how she must feel. A few days ago, she didn’t even know there was a war. Now people are telling her we can’t win without her.”
That I get. I’m still not totally used to the idea that the Legion could really need me for anything.
“What do you say?” Charles asks.
“I say let’s go.” I try to sound confident, even though I’m not.
TWENTY-FOUR
JAX
Charles has a velo waiting, which surprises me until I remember we’re going to meet an inactive fontana. Normally, when Charles and I go on a field trip, we just fly, but if we do that today, we’ll risk sending this new girl active, which would be very bad for anyone who happened to be nearby.
The trip seems to take forever, though really it’s less than an hour. Most of the time it feels like we’re not moving at all because there’s nothing to see but the ocean and a few clouds. Charles talks the whole way, asking me about the Academy and the cadets in my section. He’s seen a lot of generations go by, and he’s always interested in “what the kids are doing these days.” For some reason, he thinks it’s incredibly funny that sixth-classers at the Academy are referred to as “Dodos.”
“We’ll be seeing one of your old schoolmates today,” he says just as Bermuda comes into sight, a tiny patch on the ocean below. “Name of Vinneas. Said you were friends. Very young for the censors, I thought. Well, most legionaries look like children to me, but this one seemed younger than most.”
Vinneas—I’d completely forgotten he was with the censors now. Everyone at the Academy was surprised when we found out he was leaving, but it was an even bigger shock to hear he’d been assigned to the censors. Vinneas had one of the highest cumulative scores ever in the Academy’s Combat Exercises, and in three years of commanding practice battles, he’d never lost once. On top of that, he’d just been made Procurator, which is pretty much the most important position an OA can have. They wouldn’t have done that unless they expected him to end up leading troops or advising on tactics. All the censors do is count up the supplies we get from the settlements. But if it means Vinneas is going to be there, I think I’m glad he ended up with them.
Thick gray clouds have come rolling over the ocean, but they part as they get close to the harvester stationed above the island of Bermuda. By the time we circle in to land, the sky is cloudy everywhere except the puddle of sky where the harvester is, floating like a big, wingless duck in a circle of sunlight.
Vinneas is waiting for us in the landing bay. I thought I was getting used to seeing older people salute me, but it’s still a little strange when Vinneas greets me that way. At least it’s the only thing he does that reminds me of my rank in the Legion. When he talks, it’s like we’re just friends from the Academy. “At last, the reinforcements have arrived!” he says with a grin.
He’s with another censor, an older man with bushy cheeks who Vinneas introduces as Reggidel. “The girls are waiting in the next room,” Reggidel says gruffly. He smiles like he’s a little amused and a little annoyed. “Let’s hope you two have more luck than we did.”
“Been giving you some trouble, have they?” Charles asks, like he already knows exactly what sort of trouble.
“We haven’t gotten off to the best start,” Vinneas admits. “Nothing you two can’t handle, I’m sure.”
“What do you mean? Is there more than one?” I ask.
“Naomi, the girl we suspect of being fontani,” Reggidel explains, “and her sister, Rae.”
“Rae is revenni, as it turns out,” Vinneas adds. “We’d like to bring her into the Academy as well. She’s proving somewhat reluctant.”
Wow, sisters. At Ninth City, you almost never see siblings at all, and especially not two people with the same mother and the same father. I wonder how much they’ll look alike, whether they’ll be like the twin boys from Sixth Class Section A, who’re about the only other siblings I’ve ever seen together at the same time.
“We’ll be our charming selves,” says Charles. “Can’t promise any more than that. Ready, Jax?”
I don’t think I am, but I nod anyway.
“Well, I suppose that’s it, then,” Reggidel says with a sigh. He motions toward a door at the end of the bay. “Right through here. Guard your man parts, everyone.”
“Recruiting Naomi has been a little traumatic for Censor Reggidel,” Vinneas whispers, though Reggidel hears him anyway and kind of grunt-laughs. I want to ask what they think is so funny, but then the door opens, and I’m looking right at them, Naomi and Rae.
They aren’t at all what I was expecting. They aren’t in furs, and they don’t have crazy hair or lots of scars or weird jewelry or anything. They look like people you might see at Ninth City, although their uniforms are white, which is a little strange. White is the color you wear if you’re not part of the Legion or the Academy, and at Ninth City that pretty much means very young children and criminals.
They aren’t identical, either, like the twins from Section A. Some things about them are the same, like their eyes, which are big and light brown, but you’d never get the two of them confused. One is a lot taller than the other, for one thing.
“Jax, Charles,” Vinneas says, “meet Naomi and Rae.” It turns out Naomi is the smaller one, which makes sense because Charles said she would be my age, and we’re about the same size. Her hair is almost the exact same color as her eyes, kind of like coffee with cream, and she has freckles that same creamy color. Rae must be older. She looks like she spends a lot of time outside, and her hair is much lighter, and she’s extremely pretty.
“Vinneas tells me you’re going to explain everything,” Rae says, sounding really mad. She seems to be talking to Charles, but I think the one she’s really angry with is Vinneas. She’s speaking Aux, which is surprising. I’d heard the nocos all speak languages from the old world, but her Aux is perfect. She has a weird accent that makes her words kind of float. “That will be a fine piece of magic, I expect, reasoning a little girl into your war.”
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