Page 2 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

This is the only village out of the eight I’ve lived in where there are more than a handful of us since the main job here is welding. Unless you’re trading and hunting illegally, like Damien and me.

Gathering is acceptable, not that berries are enough to keep the kids from malnourishment, and not that it’s easy either. Most of the herbalists’ knowledge is passed by word of mouth, which makes it hard to determine which pretty berries will sustain life and which will take it away. I know some of the poisonous ones, but only because I’ve seen them in action, and that kind of sight doesn’t ever give you the peace of purging itself.

Kind of like my dreams.

Today, Ms. O is teaching us how to hit a corenth to paralyze it—but not for hunting, for defense, so she says. Which doesn’t make any sense, because the corenths don’t attack.

“How many times have you…?” Elliae whispers to me while nodding her head toward Ms O.

Elliae is easily the prettiest girl in our village, with long, straight auburn hair like Damien. Her face is more rounded than most of the other girls, and the apples of her cheeks are high and bulbous. She has every physical feature you could ever want, and I always thought it would do her much better if she were off somewhere in a place like Utul.

Beauty doesn’t lead to pretty jobs here.

“More times than I can count,” I whisper back. But I’ve never paralyzed a corenth, that’s always Damien. All I do is finish the job.

“Did he go to the saul today?” Elliae asks me.

“Yes, why?” She doesn’t normally ask me about that.

“Ma told him not to. Something about a new shipment of Nepenthe.”

Suddenly, I’m cursing Damien in my mind. I knew it was a bad idea, going today, knew I saw more keepers than usual. For the life of me, I’ve never been able to understand why the Royals let them stay after the war. But they’re still here, after killing us for sport.

“Tell Ms. O my mom’s sick if she asks.” I stand up and slip out of class.

On my way out of school, I walk by the same old room I walk by every day I sneak out. One that hasn’t been filled for my entire three years here. Today the walls are littered with new posters spelling out sentences in color. On paper. Color on paper—something I’ve never seen before.

Paper is scarce around here and trees are illegal to cut down—a criminal offense much worse than hunting—seeing as lumber is a Viridian job. So seeing all these pages with things like Hard work makes the worlds go round or Your sacrifices strengthen us all, and my personal favorite, The key to peace is compliance, filling the walls is rather surreal.

I’m sure it has something to do with the keepers, and just what it means I don’t care. I’m more worried about how we’re going to feed ourselves.

My eyes catch on a small note, words spelled out in leaves and dirt, not fancy colors. YOU DESERVE TO BE SEEN.

Maybe that one’s my new favorite, for its comical attributes.

I slip out through another hole in the school that used to have glass in its place—so I’ve heard—and walk straight to the saul. Word around town says it’s the oldest building in this village because the Nepenthe took it over during the war and it didn’t burn down with the rest of the world.

But I’m too filled with anger to let the past get to me too. I can’t believe Damien went to the saul knowing the keepers were multiplying. Trading isn’t exactly illegal—but trading livestock is. Only the wealthy get to handle the corenths, not Folk like us.

I’m halfway there when I see him. I don’t change my pace out of fear of attracting a keeper’s attention, but I want to run. Maybe give him a good slap too. But the Nepenthe are fast. With super speed and agility, you never know when they’ll show up.

When I’m less than a foot from him, I say quietly, “What is wrong with you?”

Damien lazily rolls his eyes. “We needed water, Red. The little ones haven’t had anything to drink in a full day’s time.” I eye his pack. “Yes, I got you water, of course.” He hands me a water skin and I’m sucking it dry. I haven’t had water in a full day either. I can make it two and a half before the paralyzations start. His little siblings don’t have that kind of practice.

I shove the water skin back into his chest, hard. “But the keepers?—”

“Want to say that any louder?” He slips the water skin into his pack and grabs my arm. Instinctively, I look around, to my sides and behind me. “Stop. Eyes ahead.”

“They’re here, aren’t?—”

“Don’t say anything. I still have four austecs in the bag.”

“Shit.” If we’re caught, we’re screwed, and if we’re not, four isn’t enough to feed his family of five and mine of two.

We keep walking, eyes ahead of us, both hoping that they won’t stop us today. The smallest penalty for hunting is twenty lashes to the back, the highest is death. Four austecs is a lot more than one. One could be forgivable—an honest mistake, your first time. Four means you know what you’re doing.

My heart drops to my stomach when I hear someone say, “What’s in the bag?”

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