The Unblessed Dead

by Rhiannon Frater

  Under Strom’s furious gaze I finish eating the cookie and drinking the water. My hand trembles when I hand the cup to Schoolmistress Simmons. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m ready to go now.”

  The younger warden gestures for me to exit the room. He keeps a safe distance from me, but I make a point of reading his name badge when I pass him: Witt. I commit the two names to memory. I’m nervous to be in their presence without a chaperone and if they dare touch me I will report them. My father always taught me to be careful in the presence of men, even those in authority.

  Schoolmistress Simmons follows in our wake while I claim my cape and bonnet from the cloak room. Strom regards her with a dour look, but she ignores him. I notice her tablet in her hand. I hope she’s finished erasing all the correspondence regarding my application to the Academy. When I finish securing my bonnet, I give the wardens a nod.

  “Walk two feet in front of us. Follow our instructions. Don’t attempt to detour. If you do, we’ll use the control pole,” Strom informs me.

  I blush at the mere thought of being guided around like a rabid Unblessed but nod.

  “You won’t need to. She’ll obey. She’s Pious Standing.” Schoolmistress Simmons moves about to glare at Strom. “Give her the respect due for someone of her standing.”

  “You don’t know what she’s accused of, ma’am. If you did, you would change your tone with me.”

  My heart thuds harder in my chest. I’m accused of a crime. Did Prudence report that I performed illicit acts with her brother? My face flushes with the heat of my anger and embarrassment. I can still remember Bale’s awful hands on my body.

  Walking down the steps and through the empty halls to the entrance to the school, I’m anxious to leave the building before lunch is over. I don’t want my fellow students to see me in custody when they return to the halls. The humiliation would be too great.

  Instead, much to my dismay, I’m paraded through a small gathering of girls waiting on the front steps for the bell to ring. The girls watch with wide eyes and dropped jaws. I stare straight ahead while walking briskly toward the open gates. I still feel a bit wobbly on my feet, but my head is clearing with the fresh air.

  “Wait for me, Ilyse!”

  I spin about to see Carrie rushing out of the school clutching her bonnet and cape to her chest. Blond hair shimmering in the sunlight, she descends on the wardens like my avenging angel.

  “There’s been a writ issued for her by the Council of Crats,” Strom explains in a short tone. He can speak to us, but we cannot respond. “Return to your class.”

  Carrie darts around him to my side. “I’m going with you.”

  “You’re not on the writ,” Strom insists.

  “Where you go, Ilyse, so do I.” Pulling on her bonnet, Carrie glares at the wardens. “You’re Pious Standing, Ilyse, and I won’t allow you to be sullied by being paraded alone through the streets.”

  “We’re not parading her,” Witt protests.

  Glowering at him, Carrie dons her cloak and fastens it at her throat.

  “You don’t need to do this,” I whisper to her.

  “Yes I do. I am always at your side. If you’re being accused of something, I am your witness,” she answers.

  I understand.

  She’s my alibi.

  Taking my hand, she ignores the wardens as they discuss this unexpected turn of events. I squeeze her fingers and she gives me an encouraging smile.

  “Wait until father finds out,” she whispers to me.

  “The wardens claim he knows,” I say, my heart sinking again. It will be difficult to face my father.

  “And he allowed this?” She jerks her head toward the two wardens who are still arguing.

  “He might not have had a choice. Not after mother.”

  Carrie frowns. Our mother’s fate complicates everything about the situation.

  “When will they stop arguing? Shouldn’t we be hurrying,” Carrie says in a loud voice.

  Witt blushes while Strom scowls.

  After a moment of indecision, Strom waves us forward.

  The sun is directly overhead and heat shimmers over the cobblestone road. I keep my face in the shadows of my bonnet but I can still feel the stares of those we pass on our trek. The easiest and fastest path to the Council of Crats leads directly through the heart of the settlement. Humiliation weighs on my shoulders. People will presume that I’m guilty of a crime, and even though I am, I seethe with anger at being escorted so openly. If Bale hadn’t attacked me none of this would be happening.

  After a long walk, we at last we ascend the steps to the pink granite council house with its white pillars and tall peaked roof. I swallow down the hard lump forming in my throat. Carrie tightens her hold on my sweaty hand when we near the tall double doors. Above the entrance are the words Piety and Justice.

  Any piety I had seems lost now and I wonder if there can possibly be justice for me. Yes, I killed Bale but he forced me to defend myself. Does that balance the scales?

  Drawing a deep breath, I push open the doors and enter the cold interior. The marble floor is highly polished and a blurred reflection of me and my sister greets us. The vast foyer is eerily empty. The walls, floor, staircase, and the rotunda overhead are various shades of white with no sign of color. The sterility of the building only adds to my unease.

  Strom moves around us to approach a window that reveals a small office on the other side. I watch Strom sign my writ and slip it through a slot in the glass.

  A young woman takes the paper and peers past the warden to where I stand. Her frizzy blond hair, ruddy face, and very thin frame are familiar. She was several years ahead of me at school and is obviously Unclaimed, since no married woman would have a job. I don’t recall her name but she appears to recognize me. I’m surprised by the smirk she casts in my direction before she bends over the form and begins to scrawl on it. She then hands Strom another piece of paper and they repeat the process.

  Witt awkwardly stands near us. I wonder how long he’s been a warden for he seems less inclined to exert his authority.

  When Strom returns, he motions toward the impressive stairwell. “The questioning room is on the second floor.”

  The steps are well-worn and I grip the brass railing to keep from slipping. The clack of the wardens’ boot heels echoes through the space and a shiver slides down my spine. In my head, I repeat my story over and over again.

  The second floor is just as unwelcoming as the first. Cold ivory marble surrounds us. White doors are labeled with black letters and the word “Truth” is printed on the doorframes. Strom guides me down the long hallway until he finally arrives at the eighth door. Unlocking it, he reveals a windowless room that is a stark contrast to the rest of the building. The walls are painted black and the floor is black marble. Chairs are arranged in a circle and one wall is mirrored.

  Witt stands near the door looking unsure. I suppose it’s not every day he’s sent out to drag teenage girls in for questioning.

  When I enter the room, I’m surprised to see Prudence sitting in one of the chairs. Tears stain her cheeks and her eyes are swollen from crying.

  “Take a seat,” Strom orders. “It’s a good thing your sister volunteered to come. I was given her writ when we arrived.”

  Carrie doesn’t seem upset by this announcement and actually gives him a triumphant look.

  “Do they have to be in here?” Prudence demands in a raw voice.

  Strom looks surprised at her break of protocol but must excuse it on her emotional state for he answers her. “Yes, they do. Now, sit down and wait for the Interrogator.”

  This pronouncement makes me tremble again, making it difficult to maintain a timid exterior. I hope I don’t look as guilty as I feel.

  Carrie takes a seat near the door and glares at Prudence. I sit beside my sister, focusing on the empty chair across from me. I can see my friend fidgeting in my periphery when the door shuts.

  “I would really like to kn
ow what this is all about,” Carrie says in a loud voice.

  “My brother is missing and it’s your sister’s fault!” Prudence shoves an accusing finger in my direction.

  I swivel toward her, my anger flaring. “I never encouraged your brother. Never! I’m Pious Standing!”

  “So you claim! But I wonder! He told me you spoke to him!”

  “I told you that I only told him to stop speaking to me out of fear of him ruining my standing!”

  Carrie grabs my wrist, her eyes flicking to the mirrored wall. “Don’t argue with her. Let’s wait for the Interrogator. We both know you were in bed last night.”

  “Liars!”

  Prudence shifts around in her chair so her back is to us. The quaking of her shoulders touches my heart and I fight the urge to comfort her. When Angelina disappeared, I was devastated and terrified. I’d hoped for weeks that she’d returned, but finally accepted she was gone forever. I know the awful feeling of helplessness and loss that comes when a sibling is missing. She’ll never see Bale again. Our friendship is in tatters and I know it can never be repaired.

  I sit stiffly on the uncomfortable chair with my hands on my lap and my head bowed. Carrie follows my example but Prudence remains hunched in her chair clearly not caring for decorum.

  The door opens again.

  “Well, this is curious,” Quade’s voice says.

  “Just take a seat,” Witt replies.

  “Is someone going to tell me why I’ve been taken into custody? I’m a citizen of The Enclave and I have a right to contact the consulate.”

  “This is only a questioning,” Witt says. “I was told you are to take a seat until the Interrogator arrives. Do not speak to the young women or approach them. That would be a violation of the Lost Texts.”

  “What if I don’t follow the Lost Texts?” Quade asks while wandering close to the mirrored wall.

  I lift my eyes to see he’s grinning at the befuddled Witt. Wearing a black wide-brimmed hat and matching duster, Quade definitely does not look like anyone from the settlement.

  “Well, we do follow the Lost Texts, so you best remember that.” Witt steps outside and shuts the door.

  Silver rings glinting on his fingers, Quade raps against the reflective glass. “Two-way mirror, huh? Interesting. Just so you folks know, I’m not talking to the young ladies. I’m talking to whoever is watching us on the other side of this mirror. If it’s such a violation of your Lost Texts for me to interact with them, why did you leave me, an outsider, in here with these young ladies? Aren’t you afraid of me corrupting them? Or are you hoping we’ll speak of whatever dastardly crime you think we’ve committed and incriminate ourselves?”

  Next to me, Carrie giggles.

  Prudence twists around in her chair to stare in disbelief at Quade.

  “Look, I realize I’m a stranger in this settlement, but I’d like to know why I was so kindly escorted here. I have a lot of work to do on my new house.” Quade leans against the mirror and raps on it with his knuckles. “I know you’re in there. Why keep us waiting?”

  The minutes pass by and Quade continues to knock on the mirror.

  “I’m waiting for answers,” he says, sounding bored.

  The door opens with a loud click. My father enters with two other men. Both are Elder Crats. Elder Johan and Elder Alvus are two of the most respected people in the settlement. Their wrinkled, sun-leathered faces are stern with disapproval. My father, meanwhile, looks stricken. I haven’t seen this particular expression on his face since my mother died and Angelina went over the wall.

  “Master Reed, please take a seat,” Elder Johan orders.

  “I am a citizen of the Enclave and if you’re planning to hold me here, I wish to speak to my consulate.” Quade folds his arms over his chest and regards the Elders with defiance.

  I’m shocked by his boldness. No one from the Atonement Settlement would ever dare to speak to the Elders in such a manner. Prudence stares at him with her mouth gaping open while Carrie stifles a giggle that sounds more like a snort. Our father gives her a sharp look and she ducks her head.

  “Master Reed, you’re here because a most disturbing event has taken place in Atonement Settlement,” Elder Johan replies. His very white hair and beard stand out starkly against his dark skin.

  Prudence clearly wants to speak out but she knows the rules. She bites her lip, her hands pressed together in a tight knot on her lap.

  “Again, what does this have to do with me? Or these girls?” Quade doesn’t move from the wall. Keeping his arms folded across his chest, he stares at the three men blocking the doorway.

  My father stands behind the two Elders facing Quade, but his gaze is solidly on me. I’m not certain if he is angry with me or upset we’re being questioned. Panic has muzzled all my senses. I remain with my head down, peering at the Elders through my eyelashes.

  “Master Bale Wescott has been missing since sometime last night,” Elder Johan says. “Prudence Wescott informed us that her brother often visited the cemetery near your home after nightfall. He was…. meeting with someone.”

  I can feel my father’s gaze weighing on me like hot coals. Certainly, he can’t believe Prudence? I want to speak out but I’m confined by the Lost Texts. If I’m to maintain the illusion of Pious Standing, I must bite my tongue.

  “So you think I may have seen something?” Quade lifts his eyebrows. “If that’s the case, the answer is easy. No.”

  “Earlier that answer may have sufficed,” Elder Johan says in a solemn tone, “but all that is changed now.”

  “Did you find him?” Prudence blurts out, unable to maintain her silence. “Did you find Bale?”

  “Sadly, dear child, we did,” Elder Alvus replies, surprisingly ignoring her violation of the Lost Texts.

  I catch Carrie giving me a worried look. How could they have found Bale? He was dragged beneath the ground? Does this mean they dug up his body in Quade’s garden?

  Lips trembling, Prudence looks close to flying out of her chair. “Is he okay?”

  My father motions for her to remain seated. “No, I’m afraid not. The Brethren found him in the Perdition Sanctuary among the Beloved Dead.”

  The world tilts around me and I fear I’ll faint again. Instead, I grip Carrie’s hand and listen to Prudence’s screams reverberating through the room.

  Chapter 10

  The Accuser

  The shrill screams of my only friend slice through me like a knife. The piercing sound ricochets around the room. The three older men wince at Prudence’s emotional display while Quade takes several steps toward her before hesitating. His gaze slides to me and Carrie. We both shake our heads. Fingers twitching at his sides, Quade grunts with frustration.

  “Don’t touch her,” my father says to Quade. “I can see you wish to console her but it’s our way.”

  “At least get her mother in here to take care of her,” Quade replies. “She’s clearly devastated.”

  Prudence rips at her hair with her hands, rocking back and forth on her chair. I don’t know how the Elders expected her to respond to the news of her brother’s death. If someone told me my brother was among the Beloved Dead, I wouldn’t be able to contain myself. I scoot toward the edge of my chair, tempted to console her. Prudence stood by my side during my worst days and I want to do the same for her. I start to stand but Carrie grabs my wrist to hold me in place.

  It’s too late. Prudence sees my aborted attempt to go comfort her and she lets out a terrifying, guttural cry. “You did this!”

  “No, no! Never!”

  “You lured him to the cemetery and… and… afterward killed him!” Thrusting an accusing, shaking finger at me, Prudence’s red face hardens with hatred. “You killed my brother to protect your Pious Standing!”

  This is why we are all in here, Ilyse. It’s a trap.

  It’s difficult not to look at Quade when I hear his voice in my head. I know he’s right. I realize a bit too late that Elder Johan is the Interrog
ator. He placed us in this room to coerce the truth from us. Prudence is our greatest threat.

  “How can you say such a thing?” Carrie glares at Prudence. “My sister had nothing to do with your brother.”

  “That’s a lie!” Prudence roars back, lunging out of her chair toward me.

  My instinct is to verbally defend myself but Quade makes a subtle move in my direction.

  Let Carrie deal with her.

  Carrie intercepts her, pushing her away from me. “No, it’s not! I saw your brother attempt to engage her more than once and my sister ignored him!”

  “Is this true, Carrie?” my father asks hopefully.

  “Of course, it is!” Carrie stares at my father with shock and disappointment. “You know my sister is faithful to the Lost Texts.”

  “No, she’s not! She killed him! I know it! I never should have trusted her! She’s just like her mother!”

  My father pales at this slight and raises a shaking hand to his brow. Prudence’s words obviously sliced deep and my anger against her grows.

  Elder Alvus’s watery eyes regard us from beneath his shaggy salt and pepper eyebrows. He raises one age-speckled hand, gesturing for Prudence to return to her chair. “Calm yourself, Prudence, and explain your accusation.”

  Wiping away tears and snot with the back of her hand, Prudence automatically obeys, years of training taking hold despite her outburst. In a voice that is hitched with emotion, she says, “My brother liked Ilyse. He told me he thought she was very pretty. He gave me messages to relay to her. I even told her about the meeting place at the cemetery where some gather after dark.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything since Ilyse ignored those messages,” Carrie says in my defense.

  “Did you ignore the messages, Ilyse?” Elder Alvus asks me directly.

  “Yes, sir. I had no intention of ever speaking to Bale or being with him in an illicit manner,” I reply truthfully.

  I’m hurt by the relief written on my father’s face. Knowing that he doubted my loyalty to the Lost Texts is painful, especially because I am doomed to crush his hopes for me.