hands were quivering, like she was cold. “In two?”
One by one, Mizra took our cards, read them, gave them back. “Two new teams. One’s still in the eighth Keepersrill, different street though. The other’s the seventh Effluent.”
Kichlan jerked his head up at that. “We should have known this would happen.” His dark eyes pierced me, and I knew he and I were thinking the same thing. This was not chance. This was a message. “The veche wouldn’t just leave us be.”
I approached him, careful and slow. “Show me your card, Kichlan.”
He shook as he dropped the torn board into my palm. “What have we been doing, these past two moons?” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Pretending everything is normal? Listening to your Keeper, collecting the scraps he deemed to toss our way? Following his pointless instructions? We knew they would come, and we weren’t ready!”
Gently, I pried the card open. I pieced the words together.
“What more could we do?” Sofia whispered.
“Eighth Keepersrill,” I read out loud, and my heart sunk somewhere closer to my stomach.
“Oh no,” Mizra said, voice defeated. I looked over my shoulder. He stood beside Lad, and held his card. “They split up Uz and me.” He face was shadowed, almost expressionless. “They did the same to you.”
“What?” Kichlan’s voice was little more than breath.
“They split you and Lad up. You’re in different collecting teams.”
Kichlan swayed. I grabbed his shoulder, terrified he would fall. Lad let out an injured wail and ran to his brother’s side. He wrapped arms around Kichlan’s waist and hunched over to bury his head in his older brother’s chest.
Kichlan stroked Lad’s hair. I met his eyes and knew this was my fault. If I hadn’t been sent here, if I hadn’t disobeyed the puppet men and sided with the Keeper, then Lad would not be in this danger.
“They can’t,” Kichlan murmured. “I’m supposed to be with him, always. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”
“I’ll look after him.” I mouthed the words, not sure he would hear me even if I spoke.
But Kichlan whispered, rueful, his voice bare. “And who will look after you?”
The veche had divided us with disturbing efficiency. Mizra from Uzdal; Lad from Kichlan. Kichlan from me.
Were we really so fragile?
Kichlan, Uzdal and Sofia had been sent to the new address in the eighth Keepersrill. Lad, Mizra, Natasha and I were to go to the seventh Effluent. The two new collectors had to fit into that arrangement, but we didn’t know how.
So we farewelled the sublevel a final time. Kichlan left the keys on the inside doorstep, locking the door before pulling it closed. Then we dispersed, quiet and broken.
Was it really so easy for the puppet men to defeat us?
My collecting team gave me strength. With them behind me I had stood up to the puppet men and refused to become the weapon they wanted. They were more than a substitute for my lost critical circle, more than a group of fallen people I had no choice but to work with. They had given me somewhere to belong, when the rest of the world felt alien.
None more so than Kichlan and Lad.
I watched their backs as the brothers disappeared down Darkwater. They huddled together, two damaged men. And I hated it. I hated that I could not be their strength, when they needed it.
Hunched into my jacket, hands fists in my pockets, I returned home.
Valya knew something was wrong the instant I entered her kitchen. She was a large, old woman, constantly cooking, ever-aproned but with sharp eyes and an even sharper mind. She stood by her kitchen bench, holding a sticky-looking knife and watching the door. Sweetness cloyed the room.
“Pudding,” Valya said. “Because I think you need it.”
How could she have known that, before I even arrived?
“Sit.” She turned back to the bench and I collapsed into a chair beside the large dining table that dominated the room. She fussed for a moment longer before placing a
One by one, Mizra took our cards, read them, gave them back. “Two new teams. One’s still in the eighth Keepersrill, different street though. The other’s the seventh Effluent.”
Kichlan jerked his head up at that. “We should have known this would happen.” His dark eyes pierced me, and I knew he and I were thinking the same thing. This was not chance. This was a message. “The veche wouldn’t just leave us be.”
I approached him, careful and slow. “Show me your card, Kichlan.”
He shook as he dropped the torn board into my palm. “What have we been doing, these past two moons?” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Pretending everything is normal? Listening to your Keeper, collecting the scraps he deemed to toss our way? Following his pointless instructions? We knew they would come, and we weren’t ready!”
Gently, I pried the card open. I pieced the words together.
“What more could we do?” Sofia whispered.
“Eighth Keepersrill,” I read out loud, and my heart sunk somewhere closer to my stomach.
“Oh no,” Mizra said, voice defeated. I looked over my shoulder. He stood beside Lad, and held his card. “They split up Uz and me.” He face was shadowed, almost expressionless. “They did the same to you.”
“What?” Kichlan’s voice was little more than breath.
“They split you and Lad up. You’re in different collecting teams.”
Kichlan swayed. I grabbed his shoulder, terrified he would fall. Lad let out an injured wail and ran to his brother’s side. He wrapped arms around Kichlan’s waist and hunched over to bury his head in his older brother’s chest.
Kichlan stroked Lad’s hair. I met his eyes and knew this was my fault. If I hadn’t been sent here, if I hadn’t disobeyed the puppet men and sided with the Keeper, then Lad would not be in this danger.
“They can’t,” Kichlan murmured. “I’m supposed to be with him, always. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”
“I’ll look after him.” I mouthed the words, not sure he would hear me even if I spoke.
But Kichlan whispered, rueful, his voice bare. “And who will look after you?”
The veche had divided us with disturbing efficiency. Mizra from Uzdal; Lad from Kichlan. Kichlan from me.
Were we really so fragile?
Kichlan, Uzdal and Sofia had been sent to the new address in the eighth Keepersrill. Lad, Mizra, Natasha and I were to go to the seventh Effluent. The two new collectors had to fit into that arrangement, but we didn’t know how.
So we farewelled the sublevel a final time. Kichlan left the keys on the inside doorstep, locking the door before pulling it closed. Then we dispersed, quiet and broken.
Was it really so easy for the puppet men to defeat us?
My collecting team gave me strength. With them behind me I had stood up to the puppet men and refused to become the weapon they wanted. They were more than a substitute for my lost critical circle, more than a group of fallen people I had no choice but to work with. They had given me somewhere to belong, when the rest of the world felt alien.
None more so than Kichlan and Lad.
I watched their backs as the brothers disappeared down Darkwater. They huddled together, two damaged men. And I hated it. I hated that I could not be their strength, when they needed it.
Hunched into my jacket, hands fists in my pockets, I returned home.
Valya knew something was wrong the instant I entered her kitchen. She was a large, old woman, constantly cooking, ever-aproned but with sharp eyes and an even sharper mind. She stood by her kitchen bench, holding a sticky-looking knife and watching the door. Sweetness cloyed the room.
“Pudding,” Valya said. “Because I think you need it.”
How could she have known that, before I even arrived?
“Sit.” She turned back to the bench and I collapsed into a chair beside the large dining table that dominated the room. She fussed for a moment longer before placing a
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