The Choosing (The Arcadia Trilogy Book 1) (5 page)

It's where he'd gone to trade. Where he'd lived before the war. Where he'd returned to learn to work with more and more of the Before Times technology.

He'd gone back originally to bring out Livy's grandmother. He'd failed. After that, her mother had told her once in a more mellow mood when she wasn't calling him a stupid old man, foolish and not to be listened to – after that he'd lost the will to fight. He started collecting anything he could from the borderlands, the stretches between the outright Void and the lands around it, then venturing further and further into the desert.

Until he'd gone in one day as a middle aged man and emerged white haired and crippled, limping and nauseated, dying by degrees.

His disability stopped him venturing into the Void anymore. The inability to travel inside the desert halted the disease before it could spread any further through his system. He grew ill, but never ill enough to die, and he came to live with his son – and with Olivia Bane – in Agara.

He told her stories. Livy knew about snakes and spiders and scorpions and other things she didn't want to know about. She hated them and stomped them when she saw them in the field or in her parents' house. Grandfather Bane, though, told her about four foot tall scorpions and ten foot long snakes. She had nightmares for months and her mother did nothing but swear at her for hanging around
that foolish old man
and swear at her grandfather for
filling her head up with your stupid stories
.

Livy wasn't so sure they were stories.

But her favorite stories were of the desert itself, a living, breathing, independent entity indifferent to human wants, needs or suffering.

A
fter a week on the buses
, one per province, even those from different villages knew each other better than they wanted to. Close proximity and a small number of facilities, shared meals and unsound sleep took their toll. There were scuffles among the boys, face slapping among the girls, name calling between everyone and out and out speculation of what would happen to them when they reached the glass and steel heights of the domed city. Stories ranged from the cannibal leaders of the world, who devoured sixteen-year-olds for their inherent power, a story that made the nearest Centurion simply scoff and tell them to shut up. There were stories in which they'd all be honored and set up as rulers to make the rules for their own lands. That story lasted longer than it should have despite a rational third of the bus asking questions like what would have happened to them all to turn on their families, since the laws that came from the capital were never, ever in favor of the villagers. That one caused one of the boys to be struck a hard blow across the face with one of the Centurion's staffs. Livy found herself almost on her feet, ready to go to him. She'd seen him around Agara, knew he was a shop keep's son, and she thought his cheekbone had probably been broken.

But when she tried to stand to go to him, her seatmate, today a tiny girl named Lilac, put one hand on her wrist without moving anything else – not her faraway gaze, not her body, nothing but the one hand, cold and small but incredibly tight on Livy's wrist.

At the same time she caught sight of the female Centurion, the one who had warned her off when the grain fly had bitten the child. She wasn't moving either, simply watching Livy with eyes that bore into her.

Livy turned to the window, trying to control her emotions, her mind torn between the screaming of the boy with the broken cheekbone and the wonder of the desolate land beyond the bus windows.

Logic won. There was nothing she could do for the boy. He'd brought his punishment on himself and she'd been warned by more than one person not to try and heal him.

She turned her back on the boys with the flasks and the girls with the soft hands and looked out at the vision of expanse beyond the window.

She wished the injured boy would shut up.

Tony was on the ground, writhing, and his mates were trying to get ice to him, divvying up any willow bark they might have. A surprising number of the boys carried flasks of alcohol, and those were proffered in closed fists, one over the next as the knot of boys knelt at the back of the bus.

It was the first time Livy had seen a separation like that, the voluntary difference of boys and girls.

The next day the glass and steel city rose into view, as cloudy as a barely glimpsed dream behind its glass dome. Livy had always anticipated it would be small and finite – how could a city under glass be anything else? But ingenious engineering and no price spared had gone into making a dome that stretched farther than her eye could see, the dome itself rising high, high into the blue sky.

Moments after the city came into view, the shutters over the bus windows slammed down, sealing them into premature nighttime. In the front of the bus, a shield went up between passengers and the Centurion driving.

The others stood at the front of the bus and stamped their staves until they had the attention of every last one of the youths on the bus. Livy looked around, still putting names and faces together. The thirty or more kids on the bus were more people than she'd ever been introduced to at the same time. It was confusing.

"Listen," intoned the guards at the front and everyone fell silent more readily than Livy would have expected, given the excitement and terror that the sight of the capital city brought.

"You'll be separated in the capital, by province and sex. You'll follow all instructions given to you, whatever the source."

The staves stopped stamping. The Centurions were done.

"Wait!" Voices chorused up together, demanding to know what was going to happen to them, begging for something to drink before they left the bus, for food, for a way to contact their families, for reassurance, for word about what would happen to their loved ones.

There were no answers. The guards slipped through an opening in the shield that had separated them from the front of the bus and cut off all view and now they were alone.

The silence was stunning.

T
he window blinds
went up without warning. Suddenly they were passing over paved roads, leading ever deeper into the city-state of Arcadia.

"Look at them!" someone shouted and everyone raced to the windows.

Outside in the dirt and dust of the far end of the capital, crippled children and adults were begging, pleading, falling to their knees with their hands outstretched toward the bus. The sound of their wailing started to come in through the windows. High pitched and eerie, the Untouchable's call for food.

The boy with the bruised and discolored cheekbone came up on one side of Livy, and Lilac on the other. Silently they watched the wretched masses begging for succor until more Centurions arrived out of nowhere, beating the already broken creatures, sending them running from the whip.

Livy turned away and covered her face.

"Best watch, girl," the soldier closest to her said. "You never know when that might be you. Maybe you'd better become familiar."

Livy looked at him coldly. The Centurions still frightened her, but after a week on the bus, she knew they didn't have permission to kill any of their charges. She let her dislike show and turned her back, choosing instead to watch the throngs of Untouchables.

T
he building
they were taken to at twilight was immense, climbing more than twenty stories, so high most of them became giddy and disoriented. They'd never had to look so high to see the tops of buildings and it made them dizzy.

The city glittered too, in the slow long light of evening. Street lights were coming on and buildings lighting up. They watched in amazement as electricity lit the town, then turned when new Centurions came to claim them, stamping their staffs for attention and Livy saw the guards who had been with them the entire journey move away without a backward glance.

"Line up!" shouted the Centurions, and began moving through the youth, pushing and sending them tripping through the streets. The orders were loud and too fast, demands to hurry and comply, get to where you belong, the lines were long and organized as green for Pastoreum, blue for Oceanus, grey for Tundrus, and they needed to move, to run, to hurry, to not ever hold up ones who ruled.

"Line up and get inside. Now, now, now! Inside you will find regulation uniforms, in your home colors. You will file inside, strip, throw away your clothing. You will not need it again. Your clothing here will be provided for you. Shower. Change. You will have ten minutes before guards are sent to haul you out, so do. Not. Dawdle."

They stared at each other, horrified, boys and girls from different lands, dark faces facing light faces facing those pale and angular, the people from the islands of Oceanus. The buzz of voices cut through their ranks –
do they mean for us to shower together? It's not right.

They didn't just mean boys and girls, the problem of which was solved when they approached the structure the guards had indicated and found the line split in two with boys one way and girls the next.

They also meant showering with each other.

Between provinces.

T
here were indoor showers
, with warm water.

There was food and there was clothing and most of them didn't mind discarding the soiled rags they'd been traveling in.

It was the lights that startled. The way indoor was changed from night to day. There was some electricity in some of the lands. Not much and most of the time it didn't work.

It's wonderful,
Livy thought, and instantly felt guilty.

But she did like the way the electric lights pushed back the night.

T
hey ate
while they moved slowly through lines, being processed. Their ID chips were modified by a woman with a sharp knife who cut into the flesh of their wrists and extracted the cards long enough to add filaments of wire, changing them somehow.

Clutching bloodied wrists, they moved past into the Institute, separated again now as they were led into the dorms, girls on one side and boys on the other.

Livy found herself in a small room, no door to it but bars lifted up to the ceiling in the doorjamb, ready to slam down if their jailors meant it. The room itself was large enough to hold two identical desks, with two identical chairs, two storage lockers, open and empty, and a bunkbed arrangement. A girl with a sharp foxy face lay on the top bed, her dark hair braided down her back. When Livy walked in, she rolled onto her belly and gripped the edge of the bed with both hands as she stared down at Livy.

"I took the top bed because I didn't think anyone ever wanted it. If you do, I'll hand it over. I'm Julia."

The sight of the bed felt like the last straw for Livy. Exhausted, still hungry, cold and scared, she felt the shaking start in the pit of her stomach and radiate outward until she couldn't control it and stood shuddering, just trying to breathe.

The girl vaulted off the bed, took Livy in her arms and sat her on the edge of the lower bunk. "It's all so strange. Take a deep breath. We'll get used to this. Are you cold, hurt or scared?"

"Scared?" Lily asked. "Should I be?"

The other girl looked shocked. "Don't you know about this place?"

Livy shook her head.

Julia bit her lip. "I don't know much, but I know once you get here, you never leave."

"Never?" Livy's voice quavered.

Julia shrugged. "A few people do. My parents said sometimes a few people will come back."

Livy looked at her.

Julia said, "As Centurions."

"I'd
never
do that," Livy declared and clapped both palms over her face.

"Not much for war games? But you might be surprised. From what I've heard, the schooling here will kill you. You have to be strong and talented and never back down."

Livy took her face out of her hands. "This has happened before?" Her voice was flat.

"Once a generation," Julia said. "It's how the Plutarch keeps his family in power."

"How do you know all this?"

"My mother's brother was collected. He told her, before – " She frowned and stopped.

Into the sudden silence, Lily said awkwardly, "I'm Olivia Bane. You can call me Livy."

The other girl startled and smiled though it didn't reach her eyes. "Okay, Livy Bane. You better get ready. Trials start soon. You should get as much rest as you can." She stood. "Did you want the top bunk?"

Livy absolutely didn't care. All she knew was she was suddenly more exhausted than she'd ever been in her life, even after her first day on the fields at home. "I don't care. If you want the lower, you can have it." They were both standing now, and Julia looked down at her kindly.

"Nah, you're short. It will be easier for me to get up and down. Goodnight, Livy Bane."

"Goodnight, Julia. Julia what?"

Silence from above, and then, faintly, Julia said, "I guess now it's just Julia."

Livy heard her roll over then, and a few minutes later, heard her start to snore lightly.

Livy herself lay quietly on her back, trying to control her trembling as she stared up at the bottom of the bunk above her.

S
moke turns the sky black
, and the sun orange. Villagers run for their lives, familiar faces whipping past Livy in a frenzy of fear as the village burns down.

Livy runs toward the village, not away, and the Centurions gallop toward her on their mounts, gripping flaming torches. Grandfather Bane falls behind quickly, too old and sick to keep up with the fleeing community. Even as he falls Livy sees he hasn't been shot. The closest Centurion didn't seem him fall. By the time the riders thunder their way, he looks dead in the muddy earth already. She holds out the hope he's still alive.

Then she sees Maddy. Livy's mother runs with her neighbors, clutching a baby close against her body. Breaking free of the panicked people around her, she runs into the forest, her child held tight, heading for the first copse of trees to hide behind, and stumbles directly into the path of a Centurion. He raises his rifle, takes aim, and shoots.

A
nd Livy flies
upright in her bed. There's no sunlight in the tiny interior room she shares with Julia, no way to tell the difference between night and day.

Except for the alarm sounding, waking them all to their first day in Arcadia.

"
H
urry
," Julia said, rushing to pull on the uniform she'd been given the day before.

"What is it?" Livy panted.

"Breakfast? I don't know. I just know that noise means hurry."

Probably she's right. But her dream meant hurry also, Livy thought.

Hurry. Run for home.

Before it's too late.

T
he mess hall was chaotic
. Today there would be no order, no matter how loudly the guards barked at them where they were meant to go, to sit, what to eat, how long they had. Speculation ran riot. Voices soared upwards. Boys and girls alike cried for home and mothers and fathers.

The scent of food wafted over the madness. The entire room smelled of salt and chicken and coffee. Livy also smelled bread, though nothing as delicious as the bread made in Agara. Julia dragged her into line for a tray of food, and then to a table, and then, despite the level of noise, the orders and the babble and the crying, there was a measure of calm, and all they had to do for the next several minutes was eat.

When the basic needs were taken care of, Livy found herself looking up. She was surrounded by people her own age, everyone here was sixteen, either on the early end of it like she was, or nearing seventeen, only just a little too late.

Across from her two boys in grey uniforms shared some story, their eyes serious and intent as they talked. Watching them, she realized the one on the left, diagonal from Livy, was Simon, who might have been sixteen, but looked older, on the brink of adulthood. He was fair haired, the way so many from Tundrus were. Her father had introduced her over the years to more visitors from the cold countries than most people in Pastoreum might have met. It always seemed to Jep Bane that an exchange of information could lead to an exchange of talents and skills, so into their house came mathematicians and bakers, seamstresses and other blacksmiths, masters of horse and veterinarians. The cold country produced men who knew how to sail the icy seas that lapped from the northern end of Oceanus, and those who knew how to ice fish. Her mother often asked what good that would do anyone in Pastoreum, her voice lightly teasing, but Jep believed in exchanging knowledge and he taught ice fishermen and shipbuilders how to shoe horses they didn't have and bend iron into implements they didn't need. That truly was a fair exchange of information – equally useless to both.

Simon, the boy from the cold countries – both of them were, really, but the only one who caught and held her attention was Simon – had the chiseled cheekbones and jaw of a northerner, and the light blue-grey eyes. Broad shoulders and heavy, well muscled arms showed now that he was off the bus and wearing only a loose uniform with short sleeves.

His friend, beside him, was also fair, the two of them seriously talking and the friend chewing the edge of a thumbnail. Livy could remember her mother once laughing at Pippa who, in the throes of a crush that wasn't yet on the hapless Denny, had just told her mother how smart a particular boy seemed to be. Mad had replied maybe he was and maybe he wasn't, but it was best not to confuse the squinting of nearsightedness with intelligence.

And during the laughter that ensued at Pippa's expense, she'd added quietly, "Sometimes nearsightedness can make it very difficult for the person to see anything at all."

That just made her homesick all over again. So into the conversation across the table, she said, "Hi. I'm Olivia Bane, and this is Julia – 'er, Julia." And held out her hand, knuckles first, expecting the boy she didn't know to greet her back in the familiar Pastoreum bump that spared the fingers for the work of growing and harvesting food.

Instead, the two exchanged a quick glance, then the boy she didn't know slid his open palm onto her forearm and wrist, and Livy blushed, remembering only then that Tundrus people, often hampered by woolen mittens or leather gloves, greeted this way.

"Trevor," said the boy, and motioning to the boy Livy had been watching with the intensity Pip watched Denny, and gestured at his friend. "And Simon."

"We've met," Simon said, and smiled lazily.

They were interrupted by two girls on Trevor's far side, who piped up and held out their hands. They wore the sea blue uniforms of Oceanus, and greeted by grasping wrists, as if holding the other person still against a current long enough to exchange information. Introductions stopped midsentence when a booming voice told them all to sit, finish their food, and enjoy the luxury of the longer meal periods they'd have today, because tomorrow work would begin in earnest.

The two from Oceanus, tall Kara with her light brown hair and serious straight brows and Viola, medium height but standout with bright carrot-red hair, sank back in their seats, mouthing at Livy and Julia – "Does anyone know what's going on?"

Olivia shook her head, and fell to finishing her breakfast even as Julia coaxed a sullen dark haired youth named Damien into their circle. After all the weeks on the road and all the time for silence in her own head as she'd let other people have conversations around her and, staying true to herself as her grandfather had asked, she'd tried to remember anything at all that sounded like what was happening. Now, in the midst of first morning confusion and all the conversations around her, she remembered two small things.

She remembered her parents talking at dinner about the new tax, the collection of which was coming up, and that they'd said something about sixteen. That made sense now. A little too late to help.

And the other thing, something Grandfather had told her maybe a year ago, his usually jovial voice hoarse and weak with sickness. Livy had feared they were going to lose him then, but the old man had pulled through and lived to tell her more tales, some true and some so invented even she laughed long before he admitted they were a farce.

What he'd told her that day was sacrilege and hearsay, slander and treason, all rolled up into one story but she'd been old enough to know the value of discretion, and had always loved him deeply enough to keep any secrets.

They'd been sitting in the sun, she remembered, and the scent of honeysuckle colored the day.

"
T
here's
an old myth from Before Times, of a king who ruled a kingdom beset by a wild beast. It roamed the catacombs under his palace, and took servants, which the king didn't care about, and nobles, which he did. It had the head of a bull with razor sharp horns and the body of a man, a huge, strong, blue man."

She'd laughed at blue and started making a daisy chain as she listened. In her mind she named the parts of the flower and the medicinal purposes her mother had taught her, and so the story was fragmented, but she remembered he'd said the king would take an even number of boys and girls from neighboring kingdoms and set them loose in the maze beneath the palace, sport for the creature to kill, to satisfy its blood lust and slake its hunger.