Carve the Mark

  It was hard to say whether he wasn't speaking to me, or I wasn't speaking to him. In any case, we didn't exchange words. The Sojourn Festival carried on all around us, and I was called to stand at my brother's side, dark-streaked and silent, at some of the festivities. Akos was always at my back, his occasional touch compulsory, his gaze distant. Every time his skin grazed mine to bring relief, I twitched away at first, all trust gone.

  Most of the time I spent at the arena, presiding over challenges at Ryzek's side. Arena challenges--one-on-one, public fights--were a long-standing Shotet tradition, originally intended as a sport to hone our combat skills in the days when we had been weak and abused by almost everyone in the galaxy. Now, during the week of the Sojourn Festival, it was legal to challenge almost anyone you had a grievance with to fight, either until one person surrendered, or until death.

  However, a person couldn't challenge someone whose social status--arbitrarily decided by Ryzek, or someone he appointed--exceeded their own. As a result, people often chose to provoke their true enemies by targeting the people around them, friends and loved ones, until the other extended the challenge. As the festival advanced, the fights became bloodier and more deadly.

  So I dreamt of death, and death filled my days.

  The day after I turned sixteen, the day before we boarded the sojourn ship, and five days after Ryzek began trading memories with Eijeh, Akos Kereseth received the armor he had earned long ago, at the soldier camp.

  I had just finished running sprints in the gym, so I was pacing back and forth in my bedroom, catching my breath, sweat dripping down the back of my neck. Vas knocked on the doorframe, a polished armor vest dangling from one of his hands.

  "Where's Kereseth?" Vas said.

  I took him down the hallway, and unlocked Akos's door. Akos was sitting on his bed, and judging by his unfocused gaze, he was drugged by hushflower, which he now consumed petal by petal, raw. He stashed them in his pockets.

  Vas tossed the armor at Akos, who caught it with both hands. He handled it like it might shatter, turning it over and running his fingers over each dark-blue panel.

  "It is as much as you earned, I'm told, under Vakrez's teaching last season," Vas said.

  "How is my brother?" Akos said, throaty.

  "He no longer needs a lock to stay in his room," Vas said. "He stays of his own free will."

  "That's not true. It can't be."

  "Vas," I said. "Go."

  I knew rising tension when I felt it. And I didn't really want to watch whatever happened when it broke.

  Vas tilted his head as he regarded me, then bowed slightly, and left.

  Akos held the armor up to the light. It was built for him--with adjustable straps to accommodate his inevitable growth, flexibility through the rib cage, extra padding over his stomach, which he always forgot to protect when we trained. There was a sheath built into the right shoulder so he could draw over his head with his left hand. It was a high honor, to wear this kind of armor, especially at such a young age.

  "I'm going to lock you in again now," I said.

  "Is there any way to undo what Ryzek does?" Akos asked, like he hadn't heard me. He looked like he had lost the strength to stand. I thought of refusing to answer him.

  "Short of asking Ryzek nicely to trade the memories back and hoping he's in a giving mood, no."

  Akos stood and dropped the armor over his head. When he tried to tighten the first strap over his rib cage, he winced, shaking out his hand. The straps were made of the same material as the rest of it, and they were hard to maneuver. I pinched the strap between my fingers, tugging him toward me. My own fingers were already callused.

  I pulled at the strap, working it back and forth until it was pulled tight around his side.

  "I didn't mean to involve you," Akos said quietly.

  "Oh, don't patronize me," I said tersely. "Manipulating me was a crucial part of your plan. And it's exactly what I expected."

  I finished with the straps, and stepped back. Oh, I thought. He was tall--so tall--and strong and armored, the dark blue skin of the creature he had hunted still rich with color. He looked like a Shotet soldier, like someone I could have wanted, if we had found a way to trust each other.

  "Fine," Akos said, again in that quiet voice. "I meant to involve you. But I didn't expect to feel bad about it."

  I felt choked. I didn't know why. I ignored it.

  "And now you want me to help you feel less bad, is that it?" I said. Before he could answer, I walked out, bringing the door closed behind me.

  Before Akos and me were the dusty streets of Voa, behind a tall metal fence. A large, shrill crowd waited for us beyond it. Ryzek stepped out of the house with his long, pale arm raised to greet them, and they let out a dissonant cry.

  The Sojourn Festival was almost over. Today all the able-bodied and of-age Shotet would board the sojourn ship, and soon after that, we would leave this planet behind.

  Vas followed Ryzek out the door, and then, dressed in a clean white shirt and looking more present than I had ever seen him: Eijeh. His shoulders were back, his steps wider, as if for a taller man, his mouth curled at one corner. Eijeh's eyes passed over his brother and scanned the street beyond Noavek manor.

  "Eijeh," Akos said, his voice breaking.

  Eijeh's face betrayed some recognition, as if he had spotted his brother from a great distance. I turned toward Akos.

  "Later," I said harshly, grabbing the front of his armor. I couldn't have him breaking down with all these people watching us. "Not here, not now. Okay?"

  As I pulled away, released him, I watched his throat work to swallow. He had a freckle under his jaw, near his ear; I had never seen it before.

  His eyes still on Eijeh, Akos nodded.

  Ryzek descended the steps, and we all followed him. The sojourn ship shaded us, casting Voa in shadow. Decades of the sojourn had produced the city that surrounded us, a patchwork of old stone structures reinforced with clay and new technology scavenged from other cultures and lands: low buildings with glass spires built on top of them, reflecting images of other planets; dusty, dirt-packed streets with sleek reflective ships gliding above them; street carts selling current-channeling talismans next to carts selling screen implants that could be wedged beneath a person's skin.

  That morning, between surges of pain, I had traced and shaded my dark eyes with blue powder, and braided my thick hair. I wore the armor I had earned at the edge of the Divide when I was younger, and the guard around my left forearm.

  I looked back at Akos. He was armored, too, of course, with new black boots and a long-sleeved gray shirt that pulled too tight around his forearms. He looked afraid. He had told me that morning, as we walked to the entrance of the manor, that he had never been off-planet before. And then there was Eijeh, changed, walking right in front of us. There was plenty to fear.

  As we passed through the gate, I nodded to him, and he released my arm. It was time for my eleventh Procession, and I wanted to make it to the transport vessel on my own strength.

  The walk passed in a haze. Shouting, applauding, Ryzek's fingers finding outstretched hands and squeezing. His laugh, my breaths, Akos's trembling hands. Dust in the air, and smoke from cooked food.

  I finally made it inside the transport vessel, where Eijeh and Vas were already waiting. Eijeh was adjusting his own straps with the ease of someone who had done it a dozen times before. I pulled Akos toward a seat in the back, wanting to keep him separate from his brother. A great roar sounded from the crowd as Ryzek waved from the doorway.

  Just after the hatch closed, Eijeh fell into the straps holding him in his seat, his eyes wide but also blank, like he was staring at something none of the rest of us could see. Ryzek, who had been fastening his own restraints, undid them and sat forward, his face inches from Eijeh's.

  "What is it?" Ryzek said.

  "A vision of trouble," Eijeh said. "An act of defiance. Public."

  "Preventable?" It was almost as if they
had had this exact conversation before. Maybe they had.

  "Yes, but in this case, you should let it come," Eijeh said, now focusing on Ryzek. "You can use it to your advantage. I have a plan."

  Ryzek narrowed his eyes. "Tell me."

  "I would, but we have an audience." Eijeh jerked his head toward the back of the vessel, where Akos sat across from me.

  "Yes, your brother is an inconvenience, isn't he?" Ryzek clicked his tongue.

  Eijeh didn't disagree. He leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes as we launched.

  The loading dock of the sojourn ship was one of my favorite places, vast and open, a maze of metal. Before us was a fleet of transport vessels ready to take us to a planet's surface--polished to perfection now, but soon to return streaked with dirt and smoke and rain and stardust, badges of where they had been.

  They were not round and squat like passenger floaters, or jagged and hulking like the sojourn ship. Instead, they were smooth and sleek, like birds caught mid-dive, with their wings folded back. Each one was multicolored, formed from different metals, and big enough to hold at least six passengers, though some were larger.

  Mechanics in dark blue jumpsuits swarmed our vessel when it landed. Ryzek got off first, jumping down before the steps had even descended from the hatch.

  Akos had come to his feet, his hands squeezed into fists so tight I could see tendons standing out from knuckle bone.

  "Are you still in there?" Akos asked Eijeh, quiet.

  Eijeh sighed, and dragged one fingernail under another. I watched him carefully. Ryzek was obsessed with clean fingernails, and would sooner have broken one off than allow dirt beneath it. Was this gesture, Eijeh scraping fingernails clean, something that belonged to him, too, or was it Ryzek's, a sign of Eijeh's transformation? How much of my brother now pulsed inside of Eijeh Kereseth?

  He answered, "I don't know what you mean."

  "Yes, you do." Akos pressed a hand to his brother's chest and pushed him back against the metal wall of the vessel--not violently, but urgently, leaning in close. "Do you remember me? Cisi? Dad?"

  "I remember . . ." Eijeh blinked slowly, like he was just waking. "I remember your secrets." He scowled at Akos. "The time you stole with our mother after the rest of us went to sleep. How you followed me around all the time because you couldn't manage on your own. Is that what you mean?"

  Tears shone in Akos's eyes.

  "That isn't all of it," Akos said. "That isn't all I am to you. You have to know that. You--"

  "Enough." Vas walked to the back of the ship. "Your brother is coming with me, Kereseth."

  Akos's hands twitched at his sides, itching to strangle. He was Vas's height now, so their eyes met on the same plane, but he had half the other man's bulk. Vas was a war machine, a man of muscle. I couldn't even imagine the two fighting; all I could see was Akos on the ground, limp.

  Akos lunged, and so did I. His hand was just reaching for Vas's throat when I got to them, one hand on each chest, pressing them apart. It was surprise, not strength, that made this effective; they both moved backward, and I wedged myself between them.

  "Come with me," I said to Akos. "Now."

  Vas laughed. "Better listen to her, Kereseth. Those aren't little heart tattoos she hides under that arm guard."

  Then he took Eijeh's arm, and together they left the ship. I waited until I could no longer hear their footsteps before backing off.

  "He's one of the best soldiers in Shotet," I said to Akos. "Don't be an idiot."

  "You have no idea," Akos snapped. "Have you ever even cared about someone enough to hate the person who took them from you, Cyra?"

  An image of my mother came to mind, a vein in her forehead bulging, like it always did when she was angry. She was scolding Otega for taking me to dangerous parts of the city during our lessons, or for cutting my hair to my chin, I couldn't remember which. I had loved her even in those moments, because I knew she was paying attention, unlike my father, who didn't even look me in the eye.

  I said, "Lashing out at Vas because of what happened to Eijeh will only get you injured and me aggravated. So take some hushflower and get ahold of yourself before I shove you out the loading bay doors."

  For a moment it looked like he might refuse, but then, shaking, he slid a hand into his pocket and took out one of the raw hushflower petals he kept there. He pressed it into his cheek.

  "Good," I said. "Time to go."

  I stuck out my elbow, and he put his hand around it. Together we walked through the empty hallways of the sojourn ship, which were polished metal, loud with echoes of distant feet and voices.

  My quarters on the warship looked nothing like my wing of Noavek manor--the latter had dark, polished floors and clean white walls, impersonal, but the former was packed with objects from other worlds. Exotic plants suspended in resin and hanging from the ceiling like a chandelier. Mechanical, glowing insects buzzing in circles around them. Lengths of fabric that changed color depending on the time of day. A stain-spattered stove and a metal coldbox, so I didn't have to go to the cafeteria.

  Along the far wall, past the little table where I ate my meals, were hundreds of old discs that held holograms of dancing, fighting, sports in other places. I loved to mimic the staggering, collapsing techniques of Ogra dancers or the stiff, structured ritual dances of Tepes. It helped me focus through the pain. There were history lessons among the discs, too, and films from other planets: old news broadcasts; long, dry documentaries about science and language; recordings of concerts. I had watched them all.

  My bed was in the corner, under a porthole and a net of tiny burnstone lanterns, the blankets still rumpled from the last time I had slept in it. I didn't allow anyone into my quarters on the sojourn ship, not even to clean.

  Dangling from a hole in the ceiling, between the preserved plants, was a length of rope; it led to the room above, which I used for training, among other things.

  I cleared my throat. "You'll be staying through here," I said, crossing the crowded space. I waved my hand over the sensor next to a closed door; it slid open to reveal another room, also with a single porthole to the outside. "It used to be an obscenely large closet. These were my mother's private quarters, before she died." I was babbling. I didn't know how to talk to him anymore, now that he had drugged me and taken advantage of my kindness, now that he had lost the thing he had been fighting for and I hadn't done anything to stop it. Which was my pattern: stand by while Ryzek wreaks havoc.

  Akos had paused next to the door to look at the armor that decorated the wall. It was nothing like Shotet armor, bulky or unnecessarily decorated, but some of it was beautiful, made of gleaming orange metal or draped with durable black fabric. He made his way into the next room slowly.

  It looked a lot like the one he had left behind in Noavek manor: all the supplies and equipment necessary to brew poisons and potions were along one wall, arranged the way he liked it. In the week before his betrayal, I had sent a picture of his setup ahead of us to be copied exactly. There was a bed with dark gray sheets--most Shotet fabric was blue, so the sheets had been hard to find. The burnstones in the lanterns above the bed had been dusted with jealousy powder, so they burned yellow. There were books on elmetahak and Shotet culture on the low bookcase next to the bed. I pressed a button next to the door, and a huge, holographic map of our location sprawled over the ceiling--right now it displayed Voa, since we were still hovering above it, but it would show our path through the galaxy as we traveled.

  "I know quarters are close here," I said. "But space on the ship is limited. I tried to make it livable for us both."

  "You made this place?" he said, turning toward me. I couldn't read his expression. I nodded.

  "Unfortunately, we'll have to share a bathroom." Still babbling. "But it's not for long."

  "Cyra," he interrupted. "Nothing is blue. Not even the clothes. And the iceflowers are labeled in Thuvhesit."

  "Your people think blue is cursed. And you can't read Shotet," I
said quietly. My currentshadows started to move faster, sprawling under my skin and pooling beneath my cheeks. My head pounded so hard I had to blink away tears. "The books on elmetahak are in Shotet, unfortunately, but there's a translation device next to them. Just place it over the page, and--"

  "But after what I did to you . . ." he began.

  "I sent the instructions before that," I replied.

  Akos sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry, about . . . everything. I just wanted to get him out. It was all I could think about."

  His brow was a straight, low line above his eyes that made it too easy to see his sadness as anger. He had cut his chin shaving.

  There was a rumble in his whisper: "He was the last thing I had left."

  "I know," I replied, but I didn't know, not really. I had watched Ryzek do things that made my stomach turn. But it was different for me than it was for Akos. I at least knew that I was capable of similar horrors. He had no way of understanding what Eijeh had become.

  "How do you keep doing this?" he said. "Keep going, when everything is so horrible?"

  Horrible. Was that what life was? I had never put a word to it. Pain had a way of breaking time down. I thought about the next minute, the next hour. There wasn't enough space in my mind to put all those pieces together, to find words to summarize the whole of it. But the "keep going" part, I knew the words for.

  "Find another reason to go on," I said. "It doesn't have to be a good one, or a noble one. It just has to be a reason."

  I knew mine: There was a hunger inside me, and there always had been. That hunger was stronger than pain, stronger than horror. It gnawed even after everything else inside me had given up. It was not hope; it did not soar; it slithered, clawed, and dragged, and it would not let me stop.

  And when I finally named it, I found it was something very simple: the desire to live.

  That night was the last night of the Sojourn Festival, when the last few transport vessels landed in the loading bay and we all feasted on the sojourn ship together. The people we brought with us were supposed to be energetic by now, their confidence and determination bolstered by the celebratory events of the past week, and it seemed to me that they were. The crowd that carried Akos and me on their tide toward the loading bay was buoyant and loud. I was careful to keep my bare skin away from them; I didn't want to draw attention to myself by causing people pain.