Dr. Espada is the one I need to talk to; I think back to our last day at the Greenhouse, the day he assigned us to our internships. He seemed almost sad when I sat at his desk, so intense . . .
Suddenly, I’m listening. My mind feels sharp and open: a feeling of utter clarity. I smell ogwe trees, though I’m not near enough to one for this to make sense. My ears ring and I notice a quiet buzz swirling in my head. Now that I’ve noticed it, it seems to grow louder. Has it been there all along, or did it just appear? Something tugs at the back of my brain, a prickling inside my skull.
And then I’m running. Alma and Rondo call my name, but I can’t answer. The tugging feeling pulls me along and I’m not even sure where I’m going until I find that my feet are carrying me back home, gliding down the dirt path as if I’m flying, barely feeling my feet hit the soil. I reach our ’wam’s door, hurriedly swiping my palm across the pad and darting through as soon as it opens.
I rush through the empty kitchen, down the dim hallway, and throw open my folding bedroom door. I scramble onto my bed, pawing at the mattress, fumbling to pull up the corner. I know before I even see that the hole is empty, but my eyes confirm it: the egg is gone.
CHAPTER 13
In the morning, Alma and I are preparing for the oath ceremony. We have no idea how much of a ceremony it will actually be, but we washed our skinsuits last night, just in case this ends up being something of an event.
In addition to washing my clothing, I searched my parents’ bedroom and study for the egg. Alma kept watch at the front door and I went in each room and looked in every wall compartment, under the mattress, in boxes, and between slides. Nothing. No sign that my parents—or anyone—had been home during the brief length of time Alma and I had gone to meet Rondo at the bridge. Someone must have been watching the ’wam, I decided, to know when it would be empty so they could go in and get it. But how had they known I’d had the egg at all?
At first I was furious, but the anger shrank into a knot of fear. Someone had been in my room. Maybe one of my parents, but maybe someone else. Who? And does that mean they know I’ve seen the spotted man?
The front door slides open and I exit the ’wam, Alma on my heels. I almost jump when Rondo appears in front of us, having just come around the corner on the path, but part of me expected him to be there. I messaged him last night, telling him what had happened, and all he said was: I’m going to dig. See you tomorrow.
“Hey,” I say. The sight of him is like a trickle of cool air against my skin in the rising heat.
“Hey.”
“So?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing about the missing hundred and nothing about the egg either. I didn’t really expect to see anything about the latter, but still. Plus Jaquot kept asking me what I was working on and it was hard to focus. I left while he was washing up. Hope that wasn’t rude.”
“Damn,” I say. “Did you start looking at personal files?”
He waits to respond until a small group of whitecoats passes us on the path. They ignore us entirely, making their way up toward the main dome.
“Yes,” Rondo says when the whitecoats have gone. “But I didn’t see anything unusual. Even your parents’ files look normal.”
“You were in my parents’ files?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
“Yes. Alma’s parents too.”
“Hey!” she says.
He shrugs.
“I had to start somewhere,” he says as we approach the stairs. “That’s what I’m doing. But I can’t find anything. Your grandfather’s name appears in only one place, Octavia, and that’s on the records from the Vagantur. After the ship lands, he just . . . vanishes.”
“So weird,” I say. I wonder if my grandfather died in the landing after all. Maybe they neglected to put his name on some forgotten list of casualties.
“But, some good news. Kind of,” he says. “That thing your father mentioned? The Solossius? I found a reference to it in your dad’s files.”
“Really?”
“Don’t get too excited,” he says. “There wasn’t much. But I saw it mentioned as a relatively new project he’s working on with three other members of the Council. Including Dr. Albatur.”
“Solossius?” Alma says, batting at a few small vines that have grown out across the path. “That sounds like one of the dead languages.”
“You and your dead languages,” I can’t help but tease. “What does it mean?”
“I’m not entirely sure. But sol is sun, obviously, and ossius means bones, I think. Or having to do with bones. So . . . sun bone? Sun skeleton? I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Well, we know Dr. Albatur has issues with the sun. But he never said anything about his bones.”
We don’t say anything else as we finish the climb to the main dome, all lost in thought.
Inside, Jaquot and Yaya are already waiting outside the lab door, a small distance away from the guards. Jaquot is still yawning and merely nods when we approach. Yaya tips her head in greeting. I don’t quite manage a smile, but for some reason her levelheadedness eases my mind. Nothing seems to ruffle her—I should try to be more like that.
“Good morning,” she says. “Ready?”
“Definitely,” Alma says, grinning. She’s relieved to be around someone who shares her enthusiasm for the Zoo. But nothing is like it was for me. The Zoo holds animals—the beautiful, exciting creatures I’ve longed to study more closely my entire life—but somewhere in the winding bright hallways is the spotted man too: a hidden prisoner. Is that what our oath is designed to protect? Another question Alma would wish I didn’t have.
I snap out of my thoughts when Rondo nudges me and nods at the approaching figure of my mother.
She waves, smiling her warm smile that has always made people comfortable, but all I see is the mask of it. Looking at her and knowing that she and my father both lied to me about my grandfather . . . I can’t trust her face, or her.
“Hello, everyone,” she says. “I’m glad you’re all here early. No doubt you’re expecting to take your oath today?”
She looks around at us expectantly and we all nod, even me.
“Good. You would be correct. Today you will be taking your oath and moving on to a new area of study.”
“Thank the stars,” Jaquot says.
My mother chuckles, moving toward the lab doors and pressing her thumb against the entry pad.
“I suppose we know what your focus of study won’t be?” She smiles. “In general, sorting does belong to a team of specialists. We gave them a break while you went through training.”
We step through the doors, past the guards. At one point I was shocked at the sight of the buzzguns they now carry—when did I stop noticing them?
“So . . . what are we going to do next, Dr. English?” Yaya ventures once we’re in the Zoo.
My mother looks over her shoulder, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows.
“You’ll see,” she says.