The Blinding Knife(38)

Teia sank into her seat.

“It wasn’t like that,” Kip said. “Really. It was just really fast, and then it was over in like three seconds. I got lucky. Seriously. Ask Teia. She’s tougher than I am. She kicked me in the face yesterday.”

“What? What? What?” Ben-hadad said. “Teia?”

“Kip was assigned to be my partner,” Teia said. She grimaced.

Oh, thanks.

Ben-hadad asked her, “Partner? You tried out? I thought you weren’t going to try out until next year.” He looked momentarily hurt, but then covered it. “I would have come! Ha, scrub!”

Kip’s lifted eyebrows asked the question for him.

Aras said, “Ben-hadad got here too late for the drafting lectures year last spring, but he did test into the spring class of the Blackguard.” He turned to Teia. “But you said you thought the Blackguard was stupid. Standing in the path of swords to protect idiots is for idiots, you said.”

“Aras, you’re sitting next to Kip Guile,” Tiziri said.

“I know. I heard the first time. What’s the—Oh, oh! I’m sure Teia didn’t mean your father’s an idiot, Kip. She probably meant the White. I mean, I guess it’s gotta be one or the other of them, huh? Maybe the Red? Oh, wait, that’s your grandfather.”

“Aras!” Teia said.

Ben-hadad said, “Teia, you said you didn’t want to hurt people for a living.” He seemed to take Teia’s secrecy about trying out as a personal betrayal.

“I don’t!” Teia said, defensive.

“Then, what? When I argue for you joining the Blackguard, what they do is garbage and idiocy, but Kip comes along and—”

“That has nothing to do with anything! Not all of us are bichromes, Ben. You might even be a poly. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. You’re going to be powerful enough that no one will care who your parents are. I don’t even have a real color.”

“Your color is just as real as anyone’s. People just don’t recognize it yet, Teia, we’ve talked—”

Teia shot back, “If no one recognizes it, no one’s going to recruit me for it either. Maybe in five years more people will think like you do, but for now I’ve got no other options. It’s all I’m good for. Don’t you understand? I tried to find another sponsor. I failed, and my mistress ordered me to try out for the Blackguard.”

“I didn’t know your mistress ordered it. I’m sorry,” Ben-hadad said.

She’ll make it in, Kip thought, but he said nothing. He was the one who’d unwittingly revealed the secret. He was just hoping that by being quiet he might avoid further wrath.

“And you, partner, thanks a lot,” Teia said.





Chapter 20




Kip finished his breakfast, still feeling hungry. Teia got up and went over to the lists on the wall. She left her bowl and spoon and glass on the table, as it seemed that most everyone did.

Ben-hadad and Tiziri got up and left, too, heading in different directions. Only Kip and Aras were still sitting at the table. The gangly boy was a slow eater. The apple of his throat was distractingly large, making him look like a large, kind vulture.

“Are we supposed to do anything with our bowls?” Kip asked.

“Huh?” Aras had been looking over at some girls. Pretty, in the same plain uniforms as everyone else, but with jewelry at their wrists and throats. Rich girls. Out of reach, but not out of the reach of dreams, from Aras’s distant look. “Bowls? What?”

“Are we supposed to put away our bowls?” Kip asked. Back home, no one would tolerate a fifteen-year-old shirking washing up.

“Slaves do it. You should go. First shift starts soon.” Aras went back to staring at the girls.

Leaving the table felt like abandoning safety to go back and play in the fields of the wolves. But there was no putting it off. Kip stood and headed toward the wall of lists. He passed by some older discipulae just coming to eat. A boy and a girl walked by, their arms down at their sides, eyes intent with concentration, their food held on blue trays that they each were drafting. Each raised their hands slowly as they walked, trying to adjust the open luxin without spilling their food and drink. Then they sealed their trays, almost simultaneously.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” the boy was repeating. He’d sealed the luxin badly, and even as he reached the table, his tray disintegrated, dropping his bowl and glass, both of which shattered.

“One for the girls!” his opponent said, setting down her perfect tray easily.

The boy swore under his breath as some other boys, clearly his friends, groaned. A magister piped up, “You’re cleaning that yourself, Gerrad. No slaves.”