Outlier: Rebellion Read Online Free PDF Page B

tales were spun. Even the guards ushering them to their judgment have eyes that smile.
    He can’t wait to tell the guys at the metalshop. They were wrong, they were all wrong. What a good laugh they’ll have, repairing the machine he’d broken in such a careless fit. He already misses their jeering. The chains on his wrists already feel so light, they might as well not be there. The Kingship is kind …
    At last the marching comes to an end, and now they’re seated on a steel bench the length of the hall. As each person is ushered into the throne room, the rest of them grow more anxious. The chrome hallway echoes monstrously with the crash of the iron throne room door each time it shuts. After the fourth or fifth slam, Rychis thinks of it like the heartbeat of Cloud Tower. Not unlike his own thrashing chest, he can’t seem to breathe evenly. I am Rychis … I have a wife and baby boy. I lost my temper …
    No one seems to be returning from the throne room, which comforts him. Each person is being shown mercy. They’re released out another door, put onto a train back to the slums in time for dinner. The Kingship is kind. The Kingship is good. Greymyn the Great.
    First thing I’m going to do when I see you , he thinks of his wife, is take you for all the hours in a night.
    The next person is called, the crash of doors, and only two left before him. Rychis considers whether his wife is home yet, if she’s preparing supper, which makes him worry suddenly: he’s the only one who can get that boy to eat when he’s having one of his fits! His wife never figured out the trick, but it’s the little monster thing Rychis does … acting like a silly creature, the boy laughs and his mouth opens. It’s so easy, it’s so, so easy …
    The person at his side rises, moves to the door, crash as it shuts. He’s next and can’t keep his leg from hopping in place. The guard with kind eyes watches him, and Rychis can only stare back apologetically. I am Rychis Bard, he rehearses. I have a temper and lost my wife, and … No, that’s not it.
    The doors yawn again. His turn has come.
    He rises, left knee cracking under his weight, and moves into the room. He sees the King on the throne and it’s so, so, so far away. The room is endless, on and on, he just puts one foot before the other. Each step assaults his ears, the clack of heel on pearl tile dancing up the ridiculously tall room, the sound rattling above him like invisible birds. Everything is glass, just like they said … He can’t manage to swallow, his throat tightened. He walks evenly, not daring to trip and make a fool. I am Rychis, I lost my temper, I broke my wife— No —a machine. I lost my temper and broke a machine. I am Rychis Bard and I …
    Then all too soon he’s before the King and his Marshals, the lords that he’s been ruled by all his life yet never seen in person. To one side of the throne are two of the three Marshals. He knows them so well from the broadcasts, the morning news and the night; they are the King’s chief executives. Taylon, the very young Marshal of Order who runs the elite crew of law-enforcers called Guardian … the very ones who brought him here for his mishap this morning. And the wise and kind-faced Marshal of Peace, Janlord, who looks so much taller in person, so much grander. The model of warmth, a youthful, cherry-cheeked grandfather to all. The other side of the throne holds the third Marshal, the colorful one, the Marshal of Madness— No, no, that’s what the cynical and mocking call him. His true title is the Marshal of Legacy. His name is Impis.
    And of course, there’s the noble King Greymyn Netheris. The Screaming King, they call him. The Banshee King, because his Legacy is the shout of death. Such a marvel, the King and his massive tangle of a beard that hides his mouth—the death-cry of legend. And that beautiful throne, the chair whose sole occupant governs all the city and the slums and the eleven wards, the