5 - The Summoning, Part I

“And precisely what you’re missing...”

I gasped, earning a few curious glances from the people next to me at the breakfast table. I couldn’t believe how long it took me to realize what the wa—Master Romia meant. I stared down at the bread on my plate, not knowing how I could have missed an answer that had been screeching in my face through the whole night. She must mean Lillian!

“Hey, Avi, you gonna eat that?” Lindo, my partner in the previous day’s exercises, sat at my left, pointing at the small pile of peas next to my bread.

“Sorry, but I am. You want the bread instead?” I really had no interest in food at that moment, but I knew I had to eat something or I’d starve before getting a chance to confront Master Romia.

“Nah, that part’s all yours.” He cringed. No one wanted the bread. Almost everyone would rather chew on a brick than have to polish off the accident that ended up on our plates every morning.

“Carcerus, Lindo!” A deep, baritone voice called from the front of the warehouse, catching the attention of everyone in the room. I looked at my neighbor quizzically, but found that his expression was just as confused as my own. I looked at some of the faces around me and realized with growing discomfort that the only thing they had in common was dread. “You have hereby been summoned to the southern courtyard. If you do not come by the fifth bell, we will proceed with collection.”

Collection. The word echoed in my head, and the meaning of it brought dread to my own features as well. There is a chance that we will be summoned, but none of us return, and none of us know what it really is... Oriole’s words echoed like a death knell through my mind and I shuddered, what little appetite I had dissolving into the shiver that settled in my hands.

“Oh no,” Lindo breathed, his face stricken, and he shot me a panicked look, “Avi, what am I supposed to do?... I can’t...”

I stared back at him and saw my own horror reflected in his eyes, then I broke eye contact and fixed my gaze instead on my plate and felt a terrible sickness tearing at the pit of my stomach. “I... don’t know...”

I heard him let out a ragged breath as he wrapped his hands around his head and got to his feet, then he left the table silently and no one stopped him. It was as if I could hear the thoughts of the people around me meld into one voice inside my head: Don’t go near him now or you’ll be infected.

The rest of the meal went on in silence, and I didn’t eat another bite off my plate. Then it was work, and I was glad to have something to keep my mind away from the subject that became, in a single moment, the most taboo word in the dictionary. Throughout the whole morning, no one mentioned the incident over breakfast, and I didn’t dare become the first. And, after somehow making my way through the whole morning without getting sick, I heard the second bell ring, and a task I thought got buried in the dreaded taboo that filled what I thought was every moment resurfaced. Master Romia.

I ran toward the field that Thirré had led me to the day before, and the thought of what Master Romia would do when I arrived late kept ringing at the back of my mind and sending chills down my spine, striking my feet to go faster forward.

I turned the last corner and heard voices. I skidded to a reluctant stop, then looked over the edge of the fence into the courtyard where my lesson was supposed to be held. Master Romia stood near the building, and someone shorter stood next to her, her rigid back telling me she was at least a little nervous to be there. I listened to their voices and furrowed my brow bemusedly.

The smaller girl was Oriole. Why was she talking privately with the warden again?

I sighed, deciding I couldn’t risk going to the temper tantrum’s office again for who know what, and backed up a few steps, then sprinted into the field pretending I hadn’t listened in on a portion of their conversation and had a chance to catch my breath after running a fifty lengths. I planted my hands on my knees, then glanced up at the warden expectantly.

“I’m sorry for being so late,” I panted, faking tiredness, “it won’t happen again.”

“Come back in four bells,” I heard Master Romia say under her breath toward Oriole, who was utterly shocked for some reason. “Itoma, shall we begin?”

The lesson was short and Master Romia was distracted, making me suspicious of her thoughts. Curiosity was a double-edged blade, but once the lesson was over, I couldn’t help but start scheming on how I would find their conversation, and two bells later, that was exactly where I was—in that same field, plastered behind the gate listening for the entrance of Oriole to the warden’s office. By this time, it was just before the sixth bell and the sun was setting in the west at an alarming rate, making the dusty ground around me glow orange with the reflection of the blood-red sky above. I shuddered, remembering the last time I saw the sky that shade of red. The village fire flew, a bloody rose of death, through the sky, tainting the sky crimson. The whole world was crimson that night.

The creak of Master Romia’s door brought me back to the hot sand and the peaceful sunset. I held my breath as I heard the warden welcome her.

“To you as well, Miss Warden.” Oriole replied.

“Let’s get straight to the point. The transmutation?”

Transmutation?

“They are getting clever in hiding it, Warden. I believe they’ve concocted a new code.”

I heard the warden grumble a curse under her breath. The mood was tense, and it took an amount of effort to release my breath again. I also released the muscles in my legs that had tensed themselves and were giving me cramps. I wonder where they’re going with this?

“Oriole, do you know whether or not you-know-who has made another move?”

“Yes.” She responded in a low voice. “Lindo Carcerus was summoned this morning—”

“And did he go?”

“Yes, and I believe—”

At that moment, there was a loud knock on the door. I pressed my back harder up against the wall in anticipation. I didn’t think anyone else would be coming. And I didn’t think Oriole and Master Romia knew, either.

“Warden Celive Romia,” a deep voice rumbled from the porch. I sucked in a breath; that was the same baritone from that morning at breakfast. “Major Balbaeus Hube requesting your time. Is the refugee Oriole currently in your presence?”

“No, Major.”

“I see. I have been ordered to search the vicinity no matter your response, so I must enter, Warden Romia.”

I heard the warden curse to herself again, then I heard what I assumed was her standing up, walking over to the door, then a silent commotion of rustling and resistance. Alarmed, I looked over the side of the fence to see what was happening and gasped. The warden had a cloth over the major’s mouth and nose, and he fell unconscious into her arms, then she started dragging him under the arms into the office.

“And so you shall, Major,” Master Romia grunted as she managed to get the major fully inside her office, leaving the door ajar.

I held my breath, trying to decide what to do. Should I intervene?

Well, whatever I was going to do, I only had about fifteen seconds to do it.