That prediction had come to mind every time I arrived at a new township, met new people. Will this be my family? Are any of these the bright end to this broken road?
Now I wanted nothing more than to understand what she meant. To read the stars the way she had. To unlock the skies.
Tonight was another opportunity.
I don’t think I’ll be in trouble, leaving the apartment. I’ve been in Cagmar for nine days, and not once has anyone mentioned a curfew. Unach hardly cares what I do so long as I show up for work and keep my things to the little corner allotted me. So an hour after the sun sets beyond the narrow window above my pallet, I plait my hair over my shoulder, put on the clothing I arrived in, and slip out into the corridors.
Everything in Cagmar is dim. Windows to let in natural sunlight are few and far between, and most exist only to vent the smoke from sconces, lamps, and torches. But at night it’s especially dark. About half of the lights are put out to preserve fuel. But it’s still bright enough for me to pick my way around.
The city doesn’t sleep. I can hear blacksmiths’ hammers as I approach the trade works, just above the marketplace. A few Deccor guards scurry about, but being out at night is not a crime, so I pay them little attention. Pleb workers sweep the streets and carry deliveries. I wait for them to cross before hurrying in the direction Colson pointed out to me, my eagerness driving away the day’s exhaustion. The tunnel I take ends in a narrow staircase, and my knees hurt by the time I descend past the Mid-divide. There’s a lot of housing here, smaller apartments and shacks in poorer repair than Unach’s. I see one of the great barriers that form the X, so I follow it down a ways to what must be the school, since it has a designated stone yard, presumably for recreation. I’ve always gone around this section of the city, so all of it is new to me. But I’m willing to get lost, retrace my steps, and look generally foolish, in order to share a night with my kind. It’s been a long time since I was part of a group. A long time since I played games. My heart is so full, my nerves so quick, I feel I might burst.
I don’t hear anything, but humans would likely aim to be quiet in a troll city, so I follow the stone wall of the great building around, searching for the familiar beige clothing against the darkness. The yard itself isn’t lit, but lights from nearby roads and districts shine down like close stars, casting everything in a sort of orange glow. It reminds me of bonfires back in Dina. In my mind’s eye, I see Andru’s laughing face as we clasped hands and spun until vertigo swept us off our feet. For the moment, the memory doesn’t sting, as it so often does. Soon I’ll have new memories to replace the old. Good things to bandage the bad.
I reach the back of the school and see no one, then wonder if I’ve arrived too early.
“There she is.”
Colson’s voice. Relieved, I turn.
Just as a fist connects with my cheek.
I stumble back and lose my footing, falling to my hip. My shaking hand rushes up to my face, where pain slowly sets in. Blood trickles from my nose. Blinking, I’m just able to make out Colson above me, and Etewen behind him—along with two other men. One of them helps me up, only to throw me against the stone wall.
My heart lodges in my throat, and for the briefest instant, I am in my father’s house again. I fight the instinct to curl into a ball and guard my head.
“Do you have any idea,” Colson says, his breath hot on my face, “what it’s like for us down here? We work long hours, have our valuables taken from us, scrimp and barter for everything we have. And you just dance in here and play Montra? While the rest of us get beaten, just like this”—he slams knuckles into my breast—“by the bloody task force?”
I swallow, gripping his wrist to pull him off, trying to claw through the web of confusion engulfing me. “I-I didn’t assign myself—”
A fist hits my mouth, and I’m not able to get the words out. A knee thrusts into my stomach and knocks the wind from me. I drop to the pavement. I gasp, my thoughts muddled, trying to find my bearings. A trap? Was the meeting a lie?
The memory of bonfires fizzles into black coals.
Fear coils up my middle, itching to be released. But I don’t want them to fear me. I don’t want them to go home to the enclave and tell everyone what I am. I don’t want to lose my chance of having a home here. They . . . They’re my last chance.
I have nowhere else to go.
A boot to my hip sends me sprawling. “You make a mockery of us.” Colson’s voice.