I didn’t bother to ask how she knew that. She knew everything, because she clearly stole all the good genes from the rest of us pathetic villagers. I sat up higher in my seat, peering at the faces that were so completely oblivious to us. The sols didn’t look any different to us dwellers, not really. I was staring at a group of them now, as they gathered around a shop-front, waiting in line for something with hempen sacks of produce loaded up into their arms.
“They don’t look that sacred,” I muttered to Emmy.
She followed the direction of my gaze, and then snorted on a laugh. “Those are dwellers, Will. The sols keep slaves even in Tridel.”
I flushed, a tiny bit embarrassed, and turned the other way, staring out along the other side of the cart. There was a couple walking along the side of the road, close enough for me to examine. The woman was a few inches shorter than the man, her arm hooked through his. Either there were subtle differences in how sols appeared compared to dwellers, or else they were just a particularly attractive couple. Whatever the reason, the sun was shining right on them, highlighting them like a flattering spotlight. I felt my mouth dropping open, just a little bit. Her hair was shiny, her eyes were shiny, his teeth were shiny, their clothes were shiny. Maybe it was just the light, but it put me into a bit of a trance anyway.
“Shiny,” I drooled, causing Emmy to laugh again.
The man must have heard Emmy, because he glanced our way, his smile growing for a moment, as he nodded in greeting. He knew where we were going. It was pretty obvious. We were dwellers, sitting in a cart bearing the Creator’s insignia. We were going to Blesswood, to serve the future gods.
“He smiled at me,” I tried to tell Emmy, speaking out of the side of my mouth, trying not to make it look like I was talking about him.
“I know, dummy,” she replied blandly.
The cart veered a little then, probably dodging a crack in the pavers, and the wheel hit a puddle, spraying dirty street water all over the shiny couple.
“Whoops.” I jerked back in my seat, fixing my eyes firmly in front of me, as though I had somehow done it deliberately.
The man wasn’t smiling anymore—he was now loudly cursing poor Jerath, who either couldn’t hear, or didn’t care. I suspected that Jerath was another dweller, albeit one important enough to serve the sols of Blesswood. Did that give him a certain amount of status? And was the status high enough that he could accidently spray some sols with street water? Apparently.
Things were looking up.
“Remember what I told you, Will?” Emmy was watching me. I could feel the weight of her stare.
I had no damn idea what she was talking about, but she already knew that. I was supposed to say ‘what?’ and cue preventative lecture about safety in Blesswood.
“Don’t sleep with a knife in the bed for safety?” I asked instead, a smirk lifting my mouth.
She narrowed her eyes on me, trying to convey that it was serious time. “Not that.”
“Don’t make out with Teacher Hardy’s son? He probably has a disease because he’s always itching his crotch?”
“Not th—”
“Don’t leave the curtains open while I’m dancing naked? Don’t eat everything that’s put in front of me—especially if I was the one who put it in front of me? Don’t—”
“Will—”
“Don’t sew all the holes shut while I’m mending shirts, because then where do the arms go?”
“Will—”
“Don’t drink pond water; don’t believe everything I read; don’t say no to everything; don’t say yes to everything; don’t—”
“Don’t talk over me while I’m trying to lecture you!”
My smirk melted into laughter, seeing how red her face had turned, and I settled back into my seat, wiggling around a little bit to get comfortable.
“Okay, fine,” I eventually said. “Bring it on. Lay it on me. Lecture away. I’m ready. I’m waiting. Let’s do this.”
She was getting frustrated. The smoke coming out of her ears was almost visible—but to be honest, I was trying to put off the serious-talk. I had been since we left the village. Emmy had been preparing for the possibility of eventually ending up in Blesswood, but I hadn’t been. I didn’t know anything, and I was terrified of what she was going to tell me.
“Are you done?” she finally asked, arching a single, silver eyebrow.
“No, wait …” I reached into my pack, pulling out one of the honey sandwiches that she had packed to last the journey. “Okay, go,” I allowed, freeing the bread from its canvas wrapping and stuffing as much into my mouth as possible.
Maybe I was being immature, but it would be easier to turn this into a one-way lecture.
Emmy didn’t mind. She launched straight into it. “You have no idea what’s going to happen when you get there, Will, but the rest of us do. They spent a lot of time going over this in the last moon-cycle at school, because two of us were going to get picked. It’s important that we’re prepared.”