Guardians (20 page)

Saith decreed that the sexes were to live separate from one another. This meant that families were broken apart: brother was forcibly separated from sister, partner from partner, and parent from child.
The mingling of the sexes led to bad thoughts,
she decreed.

Throughout, Gideon watched with a kind of awe. Saith was making the rules capricious and subject to change without warning. No one knew what to expect, and therefore everyone
lived in constant fear of breaking a law they hadn't even known existed. Many complained, although not out loud; a handful even began meeting in private to discuss how to fight back against Saith and her harsh decrees. Yet the girl prophet heard about their plans before they could even be formed, for she also paid handsomely for information. If anyone was even suspected to be a troublemaker, Saith's guards would pay a visit in the middle of the night.

After that, no one would ever hear from that person again.

One ruling met the greatest opposition: It banned all the activities in the basement.

Gideon had given Saith free rein when it came to making rules; he and the girl were a team, after all. But, in private, he tried to argue her out of this one. He reminded her that the lower rooms were the greatest source of glass in the entire District. Yet she pointed out that the lost profits could be made up for in another way: Her guards would simply seize the possessions of anyone made to disappear. Reluctantly, Gideon agreed that this might work. And so under Saith's supervision, both the drinking room and its locked supply closet were emptied. Hundreds of sealed bottles were removed and brought outside, where their contents were poured into the gutter. The stench filled the street for hours.

A day later, Nur was stunned when guards arrived at the twin closets where her girls plied their trade. She assumed there had been a mistake and attempted to talk reason to them. But pushing her aside, they went through her belongings, gutting the rooms.

All of the girls she supervised were led away at gunpoint. Then the boys pulled out the stained bedding and set it on fire, not even bothering to block Nur's attempt to escape. They knew as well as she that the dual stairways were heavily guarded upstairs and that there was no other way out.

In her desperation, Nur ran into what had been the drinking room. There she found Eli, who sat slumped over a table, asleep. By now, he was little more than a shadow that could not or would not do anything to save her. He didn't even seem to understand that the drink that had sustained him for so long was now forbidden.

Two guards seized Nur. As she screamed, they held her down and sliced off her long brown hair, flinging the locks onto the ground. Then they dragged her up from the basement. As they paraded her through the main hall, everyone gathered to watch from all sides of the mall and gazed down from the balconies. Now that Nur was out in the open, newly shorn and in disgrace, many jeered at her, catcalling and spitting.

She was finally brought upstairs to Saith, who sat in her altar room. At first, the older girl was defiant, her head held high. When she saw that Gideon was there, however, her bravado wavered and she threw him a look that was both terrified and beseeching. Then a guard smacked the back of her head, hard, and Nur touched both hands to her forehead as she gave a deep bow. Tears splattered on the marble floor at her feet.

The little girl stared at Nur with an unreadable expression. “It true what they say?”

“What that?”

“You in charge of girls who sell their bodies. To boys. That true?”

Nur continued to keep her gaze averted, but her cheeks flushed. “Maybe you ask
him
,” she said under her breath. “It was his idea.”

Saith's face darkened. She was about to speak when Gideon cleared his throat. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Saith responded with heated words, but he persisted, holding his ground. Then at last, with what seemed like misgivings, she nodded.

“I Shun those other girls,” she said. “But you lucky.”

To her confusion, Nur was led from the room. She was given a black sheet to wear and a place to sleep on one of the halls reserved only for girls.

In the early morning, Nur was told she had been given a new job. She was to be Saith's assistant, nurse, and cook.

Nur knew that Gideon had spared her life. Yet for the girl who once had so much vanity, there could not have been a worse punishment.

Like everyone else on the top two floors, Esther was aware that something significant was going on downstairs in the mall.

She could hear her few remaining students whisper about the new and restrictive rules: the change in clothing. The forced separation of the sexes. The actual worship of Saith. Yet if they noticed Esther was listening, they would stop talking and break apart from one another at once.

It was impossible not to notice that many of them dressed differently now: in black or white robes, unadorned by jewelry, watches, sunglasses. The girls either cut their hair short or tied it back beneath a hood. Yet all of these new rules were just the outward signs of a bigger and more sinister change.

Even though Esther and her friends were effectively sealed off from the lower floors by windows that looked down over the atrium, she could smell smoke arising from time to time in the stairwell. And on two recent occasions, she had awoken to the sound of faraway screams.

Esther knew what was happening. She had thought showing everyone her child had defused a deadly situation. Now, not to be outmaneuvered, Saith was taking her aggression to a whole new level.

Esther would have to confront Gideon and the little girl before it was too late. But first, she would have to find out everything she could.

This time, she called on Silas herself.

S
ILAS ADJUSTED THE BLACK SHEET SO HIS FACE WAS OBSCURED.
T
HEN HE
made his way down the staircase to the main floor of the mall.

The little thief had taken extra precautions. He had been caught by the assassin with the white streak in his hair not once, but twice. Why the older boy hadn't killed him was something Silas would never understand. Still, he had learned from his close encounters. And now that Esther had enlisted his help, he felt an even greater need to prove himself.

Like the others, Silas had heard rumors about the changes downstairs. He knew enough to wear a black hooded robe fashioned from several bedsheets, as well as to confine his
spying to the lower two floors, where only boys were allowed.

Yet nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he emerged.

The market that had been a bustling center of commerce was now completely different. Gone were the mobs of people and the endless rows of tables heaped with clothing, housewares, luxury items, shoes. Now, a dozen or so male customers stood on a silent and orderly line. Identical and anonymous in robes that were either white or black, they waited to purchase only two things that were on sale from a single vendor: food or water. There were no more glittering luxuries, like the watch he had once stolen. Silas recognized produce, squash and potatoes, that he himself had helped pick that morning.

Armed boys no longer stood guard at the head of the dual staircases leading to the basement; what few pedestrians there were now were free to move up and down between the bottom two floors. Because there were no crowds in which to get lost, Silas had no choice but to join the line. He had brought along a handful of glass in case he needed to buy something. As he approached the table, he suddenly noticed something else on sale.

A loose stack of paper was piled to the side. Nearly everyone on line was buying one.

When he made it to the table, Silas selected a bottle of water and a bunch of radishes. On an impulse, he took one of the sheets of paper and added it to his pile, as well. Only when he handed over his glass fragments and took his items could he examine it. A drawing done with pencil, crude and childlike,
showed a girl with large eyes and short hair.

Around him, others were folding up the pictures and slipping them into their pockets. Silas did the same. Then, as he made his way to the basement, he heard something odd.

A dull drone filled the air. Although it was faint, it grew louder as whatever it was approached.

Silas glanced around. To his surprise, nearly all of the other boys, including the vendor, had stopped what they were doing and stood as if rooted to the spot. In unison, everyone closed their eyes and raised their hands, pressing their fingers against their foreheads; then all began bowing again and again in the same direction. They faced the far end of the hall, where the rounded stairwell spiraled down from the floors above. Everyone's lips moved as they mumbled something Silas could not make out. It matched the tone and rhythm of the noise, which the boy suddenly realized was the faraway sound of many people chanting.

Without missing a beat, Silas copied their gestures, facing the stairs and moving his lips as if joining them. Yet he kept his eyes open enough that he could observe what was going on.

Silas noticed that one boy refused to join in, a heavyset child who seemed a few years older than he was. He could tell at a glance that it wasn't intended as an act of rebellion. Silas remembered Eli's partner, Asha, who hadn't been right in her mind. She was more like a toddler than someone in her teens and this boy was no different. His face slack and his gaze turned inward, he seemed to be talking to himself. Laughing at nothing, he repeatedly flicked his fingers against his thumb,
one at a time, as he rocked back and forth.

Without knowing why, Silas felt a stab of dread for the boy.

Meanwhile, a slow procession had emerged on the fourth floor and was making its way down. Dozens of females cloaked like the boys in black or white crowded the staircase, covering their faces, bowing, as they chanted loudly. They appeared to be following someone. But although Silas strained his eyes, he could not make out who it was.

By the time the ensemble made it to the ground floor, all of the boys had crowded forward to join them, if at a distance. Silas went with them, uncomfortably aware that everyone around him had a strained, expectant expression, their faces reverent. The person at the head of the group, a tiny figure draped in black, picked its way across the marble floor of the giant atrium to what Silas knew had once been a fountain. It climbed inside the large tiled receptacle, now empty of water, then turned to face everyone as it took a seat on the fanciful structure inside, pushing back its hood as it did so.

With a start, Silas realized it was Saith. He could not believe that the little girl he and Esther had rescued from the streets of Mundreel had become what she was rumored to be. And with this comprehension came the sudden understanding of what the people around him were chanting:

“Forgive us, Saith. Clean us, Saith. Heal us, Saith. Save us, Saith.”

With her newly shaved head and air of total authority, Saith was almost unrecognizable. Yet she still had the same sharp features and huge black eyes that, even now, seemed to be trained on him.

Silas shrank back, glad he was heavily cloaked. Still he made certain to cover his face with his hands as he continued to bow and move his lips in time with the others. After a few moments, he noticed that, in fact, Saith hadn't noticed him at all; her eyes had moved past him. With a pang, he realized she was staring at the boy who stood behind the crowd, the one with the child's mind. For Silas was certain that he was the only one not bowing, chanting, and giving thanks to Saith.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Saith frowned. She gave some sort of signal, for at once one of her guards came forward and inclined his head so he could hear. Without averting her gaze, the girl addressed him. Then the hulking boy nodded.

Through his half-shut eyes, Silas could sense rather than see that two other guards began to circle the group. Still bowing and chanting Saith's name, Silas inched his way back; he wanted to see what was going to happen next. Within moments he became aware of a small commotion in the back of the central hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the guards walking away with the simple boy, whom they held between them. Seemingly unaware of what was going on, he continued to laugh and play with his fingers.

On an impulse, Silas made a decision.

By now, the devotions had ended. Saith had begun receiving individual followers: They approached one at a time, lay facedown on the ground before her, then murmured to her in soft and urgent voices.

Silas took advantage of the moment to break away. He knew the layout of the District better than anyone; from where
the guards were walking, he assumed they were heading to the hidden staircase that lay at the far end of the main floor. Making certain not to draw attention to himself, Silas found his way to the metal door and slipped inside the dark stairwell.

Although it was pitch-black, Silas could hear the sounds of the guards and their prisoner high above him, echoing down through the seemingly airless shaft, and he put on speed until he was only a level below them. They all continued upward, flight after flight. Finally, they stopped; by Silas's count, they were on the seventh floor. There was a clunk of the door being pushed open. Then he could hear the guards stepping out, dragging the younger boy with them.

Silas climbed the final steps and waited for several seconds in the dark. Then he too pressed open the metal bar that opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The layout was exactly the same as the hall where he lived: a square passageway with sleek wooden doors on one side and windows looking down on the atrium below on the other. Silas could see the guards on the far side of the hall, through the panes of glass. He dropped down so he wouldn't be noticed. Then he darted forward at a crouch until he made it to the corner. He took a quick peek: No one was there. As he crept down the corridor, he could hear the guards more clearly as he drew near. When he reached the next corner, he pressed himself against the wall and willed his heart to stop pounding.

He was no more than a stone's throw away. The three boys had stopped in front of the twin silver panels with the vertical seams that stood in the same place on every level.
“The elevators,” Joseph called them. Unlike the rest of the immaculate beige hallway, the rug beneath their feet was blackened and filthy.

“But he a baby,” one of the guards was saying. He had pushed his hood from his face; he was perhaps fifteen, with brown hair and snub-nosed features. “When my sister alive, she the same way.”

He was speaking of their prisoner, who sat on the dirty ground between them. Using his finger, the boy traced pictures in a tiny patch of clean carpet before rubbing them out and starting over again.

“Her orders.”

“But he ain't no harm.”

The other one shrugged. “She don't want that in the District no more.”

Silas became aware of the sound of the boy's breathing: noisy and through his mouth. This got the guards' attention as well.

“Better get it done, then,” the first one said. He sounded resigned.

The second guard pulled something from beneath his robe. Silas realized the object was a gun. He leaned over the boy who sat between them, absorbed in his game.

Then he shot him once in the temple.

Silas squeezed his eyes shut. Trembling, he could taste the bile rising in his throat and he willed himself not to vomit.

A noise made him look around the corner again. One of the guards was using a crowbar to pry apart a set of silver panels as
the other held the dead boy by the ankles. The first one gazed through the doorway of the partly open elevator. Even from where he stood, Silas winced at the terrible smell that filled the air.

“Ready?”

Together, they half dragged and half pushed the body over the threshold. The twin doors weren't fully open; an arm snagged on one and the boys had to kick and maneuver it free. A few seconds later, Silas thought he could feel the faint thump as the body hit the ground floors below. Then the two guards, working together, managed to slide the elevator panels shut again.

“I need a drink,” the first one said.

“Proof? Ain't it gone?”

“I got some hid.”

Both wiped their hands on their robes and clapped them to remove dust and blood. Then they headed back toward the staircase.

Silas had already retreated in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner just before the guards appeared. He crouched low a few feet away from the door, his heart thundering in his thin chest.

After he heard the bang of the door shutting and the lumbering steps fade away down the stairwell, Silas girded himself. Then he stood up and moved out into the hall.

He walked quickly, trying not to think. At the elevators, he stopped.

The guards had forgotten their crowbar, which lay at his feet. Silas picked it up and, with difficulty, inserted its sharp
edge inside the seam of the second set of panels, the way he had seen the other boy do. By rocking the heavy tool back and forth, he was able to work the doors open a few inches. As he pulled one of the panels open even farther, the blinding stench hit him so hard his eyes and nose began to water. Feeling in his pocket for a firestarter, Silas clicked the tiny wheel with trepidation. Then holding it out as far as he could, he leaned over and attempted to peer down into the darkness.

“Hey!”

As Silas whirled around, he saw one of the guards standing at the far end of the corridor.
The crowbar
, he realized with a sinking heart. The boy was already fumbling in his robes for what Silas knew was his gun.

It was impossible to run. Silas could already hear the other guard coming around the other direction to cut off any escape.

In desperation, Silas tried to fling the iron tool at his assailant. It was far too heavy for his thin arms and clattered against the wall instead. Yet the guard instinctively quailed, his arm against his face, and this bought Silas precious seconds.

Silas turned to the elevator. He had a sense of what horrors lay in its depths, and the thought of it filled him with dread. Yet he had no other choice.

Leaping through the doors into the foul darkness, Silas dropped like a stone. Behind him, he heard the gun go off.

As Esther gathered the third load of dirty bedding, she paused to push the hair back from her eyes.

Silas had not returned the night before. Nor had he shown
up that morning to help her on the sick floor. Alone, Esther brought the sheets and blankets up to the roof garden and added them to the giant metal tub kept in the corner for much-needed washing; thanks to the recent heavy rains, there was enough water to boil for laundry. She was glad for her usual chores—gardening, fixing a broken pane of glass, helping Michal and Skar pound dried beans into flour. They were a welcome distraction. Yet as the hours passed, her anxiety about the boy grew.

After the midday meal, Esther drew Skar aside to speak in private. She had told her friend about Silas's mission the day before.

“Any sign of him?” Skar asked.

“Nothing,” Esther said.

Esther tried to cling to hope, for although he was young, Silas was clever and resourceful. Every time the door to the roof banged open or she heard a footfall in the corridor, she looked up, her heart pounding. Yet as the afternoon deepened and the sun grew low in the sky, there was still no sign of the boy. After dinner, Esther was supposed to teach the evening classes. Yet her mind was not on her work and she stumbled over the simple lesson she was giving the few Outsiders who had shown up.

Uri had been reading, unnoticed, in a corner of the library; now he came forward.