“Part of the training,” he answers. “We cut ties to our old families to create a new one. Worried parents look over shoulders. We have to learn to rely on ourselves.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t say hello once in a while. If we aren’t training for our families, then what are we doing it for? House before self, says the Pantheon.” I use Nightsider logic against him.
“That’s the problem with this place, Edmon. Everyone on Tao fights for personal glory then for their family name. So long as we remain a collection of rival, back-biting houses, we’ll never be strong. I’m trying to break that. I’m trying to create something greater: a nation. If we stood as one, we could conquer anything.”
I hold the gaze of his metal-gray eyes. “Let me speak to my mother.”
There is a tense beat.
“For you, Edmon, I’ll make an exception.”
I sigh in relief.
“You may write letters. They’ll safely reach Bone, but I can’t allow a response.”
“Why?” I grow suspicious.
“I didn’t want to say anything—”
“Tell me,” I demand.
“That little stunt your mother pulled the day we left for Meridian was only a prelude. The islands are threatening revolt. Your mother is leading them.”
“All the more reason I should write her,” I plead. “If I tell her I’m all right, she’ll be dissuaded.”
“I hope so.” Phaestion nods but doesn’t seem convinced.
So, I write my mother, every day. I tell her I’m fine and that training is hard, but I’m learning a lot, especially about music. I know that will make her happy. I tell her I’m making new friends.
In other words, the letters are full of lies, but I know what is at stake.
I scream as I fall to the floor. “I can’t do it!”
“You can,” Phaestion says, kneeling by my side. “I know you can.”
I want him to reach out, take my arm, and pull me back to my feet. Of course he doesn’t. He insists I stand on my own. I grit my teeth and stand with the assistance of the medical leg braces. I wiggle my regenerated toe, amazed that I can feel it. It’s a miracle I’m moving at all. I imagine the beat of Gorham’s drum. I take a step to the music in my head. It feels like my bones are breaking all over again. I take another step, then another. The drums beat louder.
“You’re doing it!”
The rhythm grows in intensity then . . .
“The pain!”
I collapse to the floor. He’s right by my side again. His hand reaches out and touches mine. I look into his eyes, and he holds me in his gaze. I feel him wanting to lean into me, but instead he says, “You’re amazing, Edmon. You’ll be running in no time.”
That’s how we work for days and weeks. I step more and feel accomplished. The Maestro comes after walking lessons, and we breathe and sing. I feel I’m back to square one learning a completely different skill.
Lessons in biology, mathematics, physics, and history start getting sent to my aquareaders in the infirmary. I begin to feel the strain of being a “normal” Nightsider boy.
“I’m bored!” I shout one day maybe six months on, while trying to learn the lineages of the various houses for history.
Phaestion is practicing juggling.
“Song marries Flanders then marries Wu, becomes Old Wusong. Wusong has a son, but he’s killed by Julii, and so Old Wusong’s daughter becomes empress, expelling House Angevin because Julii is too powerful to expel, but they are still paladins . . . Who cares?” I blurt.
“It’s our history.” Phaestion shrugs. “Empress Boudika is pretty interesting, and Hektor the Mako Breaker. Of course, there is the Great Song . . .”
“You care about all this nonsense. I don’t. These people are long dead. I’m concerned with where I’m going.” I toss the aquareader to the foot of the bed.
Phaestion stops juggling. “Do you want to see how I study?” he asks conspiratorially.
I’m shocked. Phaestion’s daily activities are a secret, not just from me, but from all companions.
“Come on.” He pulls me out of the bed. I feel stabbing pain shoot up my legs with each step as we run down the hall, but I don’t care. I’m too excited. It’s the first time I’ve walked without the medical braces since my accident.
“Where are we going?” I ask, hobbling after him.
“This way!” he calls back over his shoulder.
I meet him in a pneumovator, panting from the exertion. He whispers, “Up.” The pneumovator spirals us high through the Julii tower. I’m treated to my first view outside the walls of the infirmary in months. Meridian is dark and majestic as ever in the twilight. I’d forgotten how huge and distant the glass city looks from a high tower. Still, it seems claustrophobic and oppressive to an island boy.
“We’re here!” I can tell he’s almost giddy to have someone enter his world. I wonder if it’s lonely for him, having to spend most of his days away from others his age. The doors slide open on a dark room. A catwalk leads into the center of a vast dome formed of cascading water. It’s like being suspended inside a giant bubble.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“My study,” Phaestion says. He leads me to the center of the room and calls out, “Lesson!” The entire chamber lights up as one massive aquagraphic. “Historical records mark the fall of the Miralian Empire circa 800 Post Fractural Collapse with the construction of seven arc ships . . .”
The lesson drones much like my own aquagraphic educationals, but this is obviously more impressive in scale.
“Split!” Phaestion calls. Suddenly the aquagraphic dome splits into two lessons simultaneously.
“You’re doing two at once?”
“It’s more efficient as long as my brain can retain the information.” He smiles mischievously. “Split!”
Four lessons play. “Split!” he shouts. “Split! Split! Split!”
Eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two. Sixty-four!
“How many can you do?” I ask, astounded.
“I max out at over one hundred screens,” he says as his eyes scan. “Then my retention is diminished.”
He’s showing off, the bastard, I think.
“This isn’t even the fun part. Surveillance. Julii tower.”
The aquagraphic lessons blink out and are replaced by images throughout the tower. I recognize students drilling. Vetruk is in his office. I see The Companions in Michio’s physics class.
He could just watch us any time he wanted, know everything about us, I realize.
“I see everything that goes on.” He nods, confirming my thoughts.
I point to an obscured image on the aquagraphic screen to my lower left. “Why is that one blurred out?”
Phaestion pushes my hand down swiftly. I almost lose my balance on still-wobbly legs. “Those are my father’s quarters,” he hisses, looking over his shoulders as if we, too, are being spied on.
“What about your mother? Where’s she?” I ask. It’s something I’ve always been curious about.