CHAPTER 17
A RED BIRD landed on a limb too high for me to reach. I didn’t even know birds came in red. I watched it hop along the branch, a clear tune warbling from its beak.
Beside me, Avan tilted his head to get a better view and said, “I didn’t know they came in red.”
I smothered a laugh. We stood beneath the tree in the courtyard, waiting for the clouds to clear. Nearby, Irra flitted from flower to flower like a frantic bee, watering can in hand, talking to the plants too quietly for me to hear. I wouldn’t be shocked if the plants could hear him. In his other hand, he held clippers. He had yet to use them.
The sound of wheels rumbling over stone stole my attention from the red bird. A hollow wheeled a silver trolley up the path. The trolley looked ancient, all the corners rusted. The decay had eaten through the metal in some spots, leaving holes in the mottled silver bars. The trolley held a steaming kettle and three dainty cups.
Avan helped the hollow, a woman with gray-streaked hair, place the tray with kettle and cups on the table. She thanked him and then left with a fond glance at Irra.
“The hollows are servants, too?” I watched the woman as her trolley rattled away. Despite her apparent age, she walked with a straight spine and smooth steps. I’d noticed that about all the hollows—whether barely Academy age or silver haired with weathered skin, they looked to be in great physical shape.
“They do only what they wish,” Irra said as he put the tin watering can beside the path. “I make no demands of them.”
“We’re supposed to believe you’re a philanthropist?” I didn’t mean for it to be an accusation. “That is, I mean—”
“You have a right to your questions. I give my hollows a choice. Sanctuary and, to be frank, a chance at revenge—or return to Ninu and his sentinels.”
“The choice is obvious,” I said.
“Is it?” Irra asked. “Not everyone has accepted my offer to switch allegiances.”
Irra pulled out the wrought-iron chairs for us. As Avan’s hand touched the back of his seat, Irra’s clippers swiped at his forearm.
My gut lurched. Avan jerked away, shielding his arm with his body.
“What the drek are you doing?” I shouted at Irra before turning to Avan. “Let me see.”
He moved out of reach. “I’m fine.” He extended his arm to show me. His skin was perfectly unharmed. “See?”
I whirled on Irra. “What is wrong with you?” I snatched the clippers from him and tossed them into the grass.
Irra looked down at his empty hand, as if surprised. “My hand slipped. Forgive me.”
“Like hell.”
Avan sat, his fingers around my wrist tugging me down into my seat also. “It was an accident.”
With an apologetic smile, Irra poured the drinks. I glanced between the two of them, but they both seemed to have put the incident aside. Something was going on here.
Irra placed a cup in front of each of us. “Tea,” he said, and then began heaping piles of sugar into his own.
The tea smelled sweet and inviting, and although I had never had tea before, right now I didn’t want it.
“Your citizen IDs,” Irra said. “We’re going to replace them.”
“What?” I blurted. All Ninurtans were required to carry an ID—a metal card issued by the registry. Mine was at the bottom of my bag in the room Irra had given me. “Why?”
“You’re the first civilians to leave Ninurta in a century. They’ll do everything they can to identify you. The safest way to get into Ninurta is with a new identity.”
“You can get us back in?”
Irra blithely dumped more sugar into his cup. His demeanor had changed from when we’d first met. He still seemed a bit frayed, but the silent threat hidden beneath his peculiarities felt dampened. If I hadn’t known who he was, hadn’t seen and felt his power compressing around me and into me, I might have believed he was as unremarkable as any human.
“Well, of course,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here?”
“No! I— If you can get us in, that would . . . that would be great.” I wasn’t trapped here. I could still find Reev. Hope swelled inside me, but I had to be sure of what he was offering.
“What do you want in return?” Avan asked. His question cut short my inner celebration.
“Not much,” Irra said. “Just information.”
I tapped my fingernail against the side of my cup. “What kind of information?”
“G-10 has filled me in on the details of your brother’s situation. Whatever knowledge Reev might have from his time with Ninu would be adequate. And since I imagine Ninu will rebrand him, I should like to study his new collar. If you return successfully, of course.”
He meant to treat Reev no differently than he treated the other sentinels who’d joined him. I couldn’t see any reason not to take the deal. Besides, what else could I do? I wasn’t exactly swimming in options.
With a glance at Avan, who didn’t object, I said, “Okay. I’m in.”
“Won’t they know if a new ID shows up in the registry?” Avan asked.
“Not,” Irra said, holding up his spoon, “if it’s one that never left.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.
“It will.”
My mouth pinched at his dismissive tone. “How am I supposed to find my brother if he’s in the White Court?”
“My hollows will place you among the cadets performing in the Tournament.”
“Wait, wait,” I said, putting up my hands. “What do you mean, ‘the Tournament’?”
“If you want access to the areas in which Reev is most likely to be, then you can’t be civilians. And we can’t throw you in as Watchmen, either, because the ranks are meticulously run. Entering you as cadets is the safest route.”
Avan leaned forward. “But that would mean—”
“Yes!” Irra said, brandishing his spoon in excitement and sending flecks of tea flying. “Training. Better start now.”
“We have to wait until the Tournament begins?” I said. Who knew how much damage Ninu would do to Reev before I found him? Who knew what he had already done?
“It’s only two more weeks. And we have the time. Whatever Ninu decides to do with your brother, any alterations with permanent damage would require months to complete. Delicate organ.” He gestured at his head.
“Permanent damage,” I echoed.
“You keep focusing on the wrong details,” Irra said. “As to training—Kai, you possess unique abilities rooted directly in the River. It would be best not to showcase them.”
I stared at him from above the rim of my cup. How could he have known? I hadn’t done anything since the gargoyles chased us into the forest. I looked at Avan, who mirrored my wariness.
Admitting I was different still felt dangerous. Even if I was no longer in Ninurta. But I wanted to know what he meant—what if he had answers to the questions I’d always been afraid to ask?
“What river?” I asked cautiously. The only river still running that I knew of divided the East Quarter and the North District like a natural wall. And it wasn’t as impressive as the one made of stone and metal surrounding the White Court.
“The River,” Irra said. “The steady current over which Time keeps watch, in which all things flow. You must have been born of it.”
The threads. I brushed my mind against them. Yes, they flowed evenly, at the same pace—reliable, constant, ever present. Still, it remained a mystery how I could grasp and manipulate them.
My confusion was plain, because Irra added, “I don’t understand it myself.”
“How can you tell? That I’m different, I mean.”
“We each have our own gifts,” he said. “And you reek of the River.”
“I reek?” I tried not to sniff my shirt.
“Not literally,” he said. “It’s in your eyes. I can see the River reflected there.”
I stopped feeling self-conscious about the color of my eyes a long time ago—Reev made me realize that everyone was too caught up worrying about their own insecurities to see mine—but now I wanted to duck my head so Irra would stop staring at me.
“Does that mean I’m mahjo?”
But Irra had said they no longer possessed any real, usable magic, and I couldn’t do any of the things G-10 mentioned: I didn’t heal fast, I was too scrawny to have much muscle strength, and I was fast but not superhumanly so. Reev had never gotten sick, but I had, plenty of times.
Irra leaned over the table to peer directly into my eyes. Avan leaned forward a little as well. I tried not to move despite the awkwardness.
Then Irra shifted away and spooned more sugar into his tea. “No,” he said decisively.
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Beside me, Avan slowly relaxed into his seat.
“Then what am I?” I prompted.
“You,” he said, lifting his cup to his mouth, “are a conundrum.” He took a happy sip.
I slumped into my chair and sighed. “So you don’t know. Shouldn’t being Infinite mean having infinite knowledge?” I muttered.
“Eternity would be quite dull if that was true.”
“Can you at least tell us where to find Reev? Is there a sentinel barracks?”
“Unfortunately, Ninu keeps that sort of information to himself. I can’t break those particular enchantments without alerting him to my interference.”
The disappointment felt heavy in my chest, but I pushed it down. I’d find Reev the old-fashioned way: by searching. Inside the White Court, I’d have a better chance at success.
“I’ll find him,” I declared.
“And I’ll leave you to it. However, I do feel the need to repeat this again,” Irra said, and suddenly, his presence vibrated around me like an echo, plunging me into that same chilling emptiness of the Void. “In the Tournament, do not use your powers. No matter what.”