The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page A

for signs of an emotional relapse either. We talk about all the robes from the morning, the potential for a good harvest, the feast planned for that night. We reminisce over past years ’ performance displays each Service line provides for entertainment while everyone gorges themselves on food- there will be no rationed amounts tonight. Our chatter is so polite we could be any Play Group. No one would guess what lies beneath our friendly, arm ’ s length banter.
    The door shut firmly in our common room, we place our boxes on the table. Harc asks, “ Who wants to go first? ” in an over-bright voice. No one makes a move. She reaches out and pulls the knotted rubber band off her shiny plastic box. Inside lays a neatly folded blue jumpsuit, slippery white underclothes, shoes and head wrap. The included card illustrates how to wear each piece. “ Well. It ’ s not the color of my dreams but it compliments my hair rather well, doesn ’ t it? ” She holds the jumpsuit up to her chin and looks at us with a raised eyebrow.
    How is she able make jokes? And how am I able to laugh at them? How can we just chat lightly like we were never in Solace, like we never watched The Mother hit her? Like I never tried to gouge out a pair of cold eyes in retaliation? How am I doing this? I ’ m back to going through the motions. Opening Service boxes one by one, looking at all the contents, and laughing. It feels forced and vulgar.
    My box is the only one still left to open. Everyone has been looking at it since we sat down, no one really wanting to know. I can ’ t remember seeing an Unspoken in anything but the standard issue clothing everyone in Chelon wears. I look around the room. I want to see it one more time before everything is changed by what ’ s in this black box. Taking a deep breath, I press the clasp and the lid swings open. Resting on top, there is the instruction card with a woman dressed in a formfitting black suit with terra-cotta orange patches on the arms, legs and torso, high black boots and a black leather belt resting at an angle on the painted model ’ s hips. When I pick up the card, it unfolds showing more instructions for different versions of the uniform, a short skirt and jacket, a long loose skirt with leather pouches dangling from the belt, one with a shirt and not much else, one thick and lined with fur with zippers up the arms and legs. I reach into the box and pull out the first suit pictured on the card followed by the boots and belt. There ’ s nothing else in the box.
    “ I guess the other ones are seasonal, ” is all I can think of to say. How can I possibly serve Chelon in a skintight suit like this? It ’ s so small, it doesn ’ t even look like I could pull it past my thighs. The material feels dense and unbreathable. A claustrophobic feeling starts to close me in.
    Wex reaches out for the belt, gently pulling my fingers open so he can take it from me. He looks at it with interest. Loaded with pockets, loops and pouches, none of which have anything in them. “ A belt like that would be dead useful in the fields. Better than the issued sling bag anyway. A bag, or even our everyday packs, could really get in the way when you ’ re plowing or harvesting the grains. If that strap gets caught on anything, you could lose an arm in the combine. ” I can feel Doe ’ s hand on mine, she seems so far away, why won ’ t she stand still...
    “ Catch her, Wex. She ’ s going to faint. ”

Chapter Four
     
     
    I do not faint. I vomit. Stomach acid and bile mostly, but there ’ s also something resembling the soup I had last night. “ Sorry, ” I choke as I spit the last of it on the floor.
    “ You just aren ’ t used to all this activity, ” Doe says soothingly.
    “ Neither are the rest of you and you aren ’ t tossing up last night ’ s dinner, ” I rasp, looking up from under the curtain of hair that ’ s fallen across my face to see all of them exchange glances. “ What? ” I