surroundings. The Aegis reminded
her of the community college back home—a large boxy dormitory opening to a courtyard,
half a dozen
scattered outbuildings, and multiple trails that led into a thicket of woods. She
leaned forward and squinted, bringing an obstacle course into focus.
Aisly followed Cara’s gaze. “That’s where you’ll take your physical conditioning class.”
Cara groaned inwardly. Even in another galaxy, she couldn’t escape PE.
“But don’t worry,” Aisly continued. “The instructor will adjust your target time to
compensate for your inferior respiratory system.”
Awesome. Add to the equation Cara’s inferior human brain, and after Troy left, she’d
be the most worthless person on the planet. Quite the downgrade from her previous
title of
Midtown High valedictorian.
“Do you go to school in this Aegis, too?” she asked. From what she understood, children
stayed in their local Aegis from birth until the end of their twenty-first year, when
they
received a job assignment and moved to the occupational barracks. But surely any L’eihr
gifted enough to be appointed to The Way wouldn’t take classes with the rest of the
students.
“We do now,” Jaxen said. When she waited for him to elaborate, he didn’t.
The three of them climbed the front steps leading to the dormitory, and Aisly extended
her wrist for the scanner. In response, a pair of metallic doors hissed aside to allow
them into the vacant
lobby. Cara braced herself for an icy burst of air-conditioning, but a cross breeze
from open windows along the adjacent corridors brushed her skin, reminding her that
the temperature here hovered
around seventy year-round. The next sensation to reach her was the warm, welcoming
scent of baking bread. Her stomach growled in response.
“Must be breakfast time,” she mused. That would explain the absence of students.
“Yes,” Aisly said. “Our morning staple here is
t’ahinni
. It’s made from
larun
, which is a flat—”
“Flatbread,” Cara finished. A bittersweet smile curved her lips. “I tried re-creating
it on Earth for Aelyx, but I never got it right.”
From there, they whisked her to the headmaster’s office and outfitted her with a supply
of clean uniforms and a palm-size tablet.
“Bring this to each class,” Jaxen said. “All the texts and essays you’ll need are
preloaded and translated into English.”
Even after his demonstration, Cara didn’t understand how to use the device, but she
kept quiet for fear of looking stupid. She’d ask Elle to explain it later. Next, Jaxen
and Aisly
escorted her to her room, which was near the lobby on the first floor.
Jaxen paused outside her door. “Is it still your intention to remain here permanently,
as Aelyx’s
l’ihan
?”
Cara nodded, even though “remain here permanently” sounded so…permanent.
“Excellent,” Aisly said. “Then we can resolve the issue of your citizenship.”
Cara’s stomach dipped. Just because she’d left Earth didn’t mean she wanted to sever
all ties to her people. “Can I have dual citizenship?”
“Absolutely,” Aisly promised. “But the process remains the same. In order to become
a citizen, you have to hold a
Sh’ovah
.”
A
Sh’ovah
? Why did that sound familiar?
Cara searched her memory. When nothing came, she turned to Jaxen for clarification,
but by the time their eyes met, the answer hit like a cannonball to the gut. It sounded
familiar because
several months ago she’d written a blog post about the rite of passage:
You swear an oath to the Sacred Mother, and then all your peers stand in line and
smear mud on your naked body to
symbolize your union with Her. Mazel tov!
All the blood in Cara’s face went south, settling somewhere in the vicinity of her
socks. She’d have to stand before her new classmates in her birthday suit? And let
them cover her
with mud? There had to be another
William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone