The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

“Yes, sir,” I answered, somewhat unsure of how that was possible.

I shuffled uncomfortably, glaring at the man’s number. It couldn’t be right, could it? But to think otherwise would be to assume that Scipio was wrong, and if I wanted to start claiming that, I might as well arrest myself and spend the night in a cell.

Gerome looked at me, then at the man, his hard eyes seeming uncertain. “Very well, then,” he murmured after a pause. “We cannot arrest those in Scipio’s grace. The Citadel apologizes for any inconvenience you have suffered, Citizen.”

Grey gave him a shrug, donning an expression of mock sincerity. “That’s no problem,” he replied. “I just want to help the Tower run as smoothly as possible.”

I stared at him. His words were dripping with sarcasm, his eyes glinting with amusement. How the hell was he still a nine? It didn’t make any sense.

“You were a one!” I erupted, gesturing at him. “You fled from Knights of Scipio’s order!”

Gerome’s baleful gaze fell on me this time, and I shrunk under it. “You know as well as anyone that Scipio marks criminals with a one, to make their capture easy and assured. If he is not a one, then he has committed no crime.”

“But—”

“We’re done here, Squire,” Gerome said, his voice gaining a hint of steel as he turned and walked away.

I could only stare at his retreating form. It seemed that Gerome was as indifferent to crime as he was virtue. Actions didn’t matter to him, or to the other Knights. It was all about Scipio and the number you happened to have flashing on your wrist. They were off the hook for everything else. Gerome was too indifferent to even admit there must have been some kind of mistake. But I couldn’t exactly blame him, either; this was the only protocol he knew.

I, however, couldn’t stop thinking about it. In all my years of having my accomplishments ignored, I hadn’t really stopped to consider the things a high number could get away with. Now, my mind was abuzz. This couldn’t be right, could it? And yet, it was happening.

I shot a lingering look back at Grey. He was lounging against a pipe, his eyes bright with quiet amusement. As I turned to follow Gerome, Grey gave a mocking salute, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Oh, I’m going to figure out exactly what you’re doing.





Chapter 3





I followed Gerome along one of the many bridges that connected the shell to the entrance of the Citadel, the Knights’ headquarters. The giant cylindrical structure was dark and foreboding, stylized with great arches and loops of metal tempered to look like stone. The level we approached had high, towering walls, and lining those walls were gargoyles set upon platforms. Blue-and-silver banners bearing Scipio’s insignia (a tower wreathed in lightning) hung from the structure, and high above I could hear the whoosh and snap of Squires and Knights lashing between the arches of the Citadel, practicing their art.

Reaching the looming front doors, Gerome was waved through, while I was brought to a stop, a crackling baton barring my path. I looked up and met the eyes of Lewis, a Knight who had sparred with me once. I had even thought of him as friendly.

“Nobody below a ranking of four is admitted here,” he said, his voice unyielding. “You may take the residents’ entrance, as you still live with your parents.”

I looked to Gerome, but the man just shook his head. I should have expected the reaction, to be honest. Gerome would have arrested his mother and spared the devil based on the number on their wrists. I bet the devil was good at cheating the system too… maybe I could find him and he could give me some tips.

“Go home, Liana,” he said, rubbing at his brow. “You need to speak with your parents.”

I bit my lip. “What about my report, sir?”

“I will handle your report,” said Gerome. “I was there. At any rate, the testimony of a three is inadmissible in the records. Dismissed.”

He never said “goodbye” like a normal person might have. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the building beyond without another word. In front of me, Lewis continued to hold his baton, eyes level with mine.

I swallowed hard as I stared at the man. It wasn’t even that I liked giving the reports, but it was my job. To be disallowed from even doing paperwork somehow felt like a bigger slap in the face than anything else I had experienced.

What am I going to do—write a treasonous report? I thought bitterly. Then I tried to catch the sour thought, bundle it up and send it to some part of my brain where it wouldn’t be noticed. I couldn’t allow myself to fall to a two. Happy thoughts.

Hey, you okay? a soft voice in the back of my head asked.

I jumped and stared at Lewis. He just brandished his weapon again, apparently concerned I might try to force my way in. I took a step back and exhaled, looking around. It hadn’t been him talking, and there wasn’t anyone else around, which really only left me with one option: my dear brother, with his personal access to Scipio’s communication networks.

“Alex?” I muttered softly, knowing the implant in my ear would pick up the sound and transmit it back to him.

Literally and metaphorically coming at you through your thoughts, buzzed the voice in my head. I went to check in on you and saw your number had dropped. What’s going on?

I smiled and walked away from Lewis to settle down on a bench. Alexander had always been the first to ask what was wrong. I rarely heard from him these days, except in a crisis. My parents hadn’t taken kindly to his decision to leave the Knights, even to directly serve Scipio, and as a result he never visited. I missed him, truth be told. There was something earnest and good in Alex that was hard to find elsewhere, and it often made me wonder just how he had come to work with Scipio.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Stupid run-in with a moronic Cog.”

A pause.

Your ranking has slipped to a three, Lily.

I scowled at both the patronizing voice he used, as well as the nickname. He was the only person who called me that and I wasn’t fond of it.

“So?”

So, three is when compulsory Medica treatment kicks in. Not to mention, your apprenticeship is nearing an end. They could drop you.

I let my head fall into my hands, a wave of defeat rolling through me. Alex had never been one to mince words, and he knew me well enough to know exactly what I was afraid of. My number had fallen because I couldn’t stay positive, keep my thoughts in a good place on a consistent basis. The Medica was going to fix those thoughts, whether I liked it or not. And I had to do it, or risk losing my department forever.

“Maybe it’s just a bad day,” I muttered. “Maybe it’ll be better in the morning.” Using the net to communicate was weird; it always looked like someone was talking to themselves, although everyone knew they weren’t. Or at least hoped they weren’t.

It won’t be.

“Gee, thanks for the reassurance.”