Page 32 of Cage of Starlight
Randall finds himat dinner, toting a bowl filled to the brim with corn hash soup. “I save my tokens for this,” he confides, sliding into the seat beside Tory. “Keep going back for more and stuff myself ’til I almost puke.” He opens his hand to show two more of the white-rimmed purple coins. “I willfeasttonight.”
Tory smiles, sipping at his soup. A bit salty, but savory and filling. “It’s not bad.”
“It’sglorious.Just like home. I love her for it, but Niela—my girlfriend, remember? She’s Mrs. Jeffra’s daughter. Healer, just like her mom!—she can’t cook to save her life. She’s always sayin’ I need to work harder ’cause she doesn’t want to see me back in there.” Randall’s eyes crinkle. “Don’t think she knows I let ’em clip me so I can visit.”
“That’s, uh . . . sweet?”
“Her uniform’s so cute. They have those littlehatsand I just—her hair, and the things the aprondoesto her waist! You get me.”
He doesn’t. In the House, Tory met people who welcomed sex and all its trappings and trimmings, people who enjoyed only the physical aspects, people who approached it as a transaction, and people who were actively appalled by it and served their clients indifferent ways. He talked to them all, learned young that he wasn’t alone in his indifference. He learned young, too, that his preferences didn’t matter—if he wanted to keep himself happy, healthy, and alive, being what other people needed mattered more than understanding what he wanted.
Randall might understand if Tory told the truth, but Tory would be a fool to cultivate friendships after the mess he made of his time in Hulven, so he just hums agreeably, which seems to be all Randall needs.
“So.” He nudges Tory, conspiratorial. “You’re new here, huh?”
“First day training, second day here. How’dyouget taken in?”
Randall shrugs. “I was a late bloomer, didn’t even know I was a Seed until this one day I was working in the smithy and me and this other apprentice almost got nailed by flying knives when a display tipped. I did my thing and saved both of us, swore him to secrecy.”
“He sold you out,” Tory guesses.
“Nah. Gus? Stellar guy. I just felt weird staying there, you know? Secrets make shackles, and all that. Applied for work in Maran. Should’ve known not to go to thecapital, but I never said I was clever! They were doing examinations at the checkpoint before the outer wall, some sort of blood test. Figured it was for a sickness or something, but, well. When my blood lit on fire, I kinda knew it wasn’t. They sent me here.”
“Sucks, man. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “I was tired of hiding it, and it’s not so bad here. This is where I met Niela. If we get married, we can apply to be placed together whenever the whole war thing’s done.”
Optimistic of him to believe Vantaras will ever let it end, but Tory doesn’t say so. He’s heard conversations like this one enough to know what’s next. “She a keeper, then?”
Randall gets that look again. Soft—so awfully soft. “She says she was a bit of a—a delinquent, I guess, before she came here. Says she’d never have pegged herself for a Healer, but I think she’s plenty nurturing. Anyway, we didn’t get along real well at first, but then we saw each other every day in the infirmary, and . . .”
“You are a walking cliche.”
“Tried and true methods, my man. Tried and true.”
The silence goes on a beat too long.
Randall chuckles, awkward. “So, you’re real good for a newbie!”
Tory stabs a kernel of corn with his fork. “Not exactly a newbie. I’ve been doing something that—uses the same theory, I guess?—for years now, so once I made the connection it came pretty easy.”
Randall leans close. The smile stays frozen on his face, eerie as he whispers, “Don’t get too good, okay? Way I hear it, the talented ones, they’re the first to be deployed. Make some mistakes. Hang back. I’ve been here six months, and half the folks I came with are gone. Not like gone, butgone-gone. Being ‘bad’ has worked pretty well for me. The things I’ve heard about what’s out there . . . I don’t want to see it. War’s gotta end sometime. Wait it out if you can.”
Tory’s mouth goes dry. “Okay.”
Randall claps him on the back like he just told a joke. “Good man! Coming here is a bit of an upset, yeah? You been to the rec room?”
Tory shakes his head.
“Let’s go! The Kinetic guys go there to spar, but I like the game tables. We can play cards or something, unwind. People gamble meal tokens sometimes. You got any leftovers from your first allotment?Any you don’t want? They trade all sorts of stuff at the tables. I got an extra pillow there once.”
Tory grins. Thanks to the bastards here and theirhigh hopesfor him, he certainly has no dearth of tokens.
*
The rec room is wide and packed with people. That’s the first thing that rubs Tory the wrong way.
The air tastes of sweat from the roped-off sparring ring and smoke from the crude card tables. Curses and conversations and laughter meld to create a steady buzz, broken occasionally by a cry or a chorus of cheers. Tory watches the fight in the elevated ring for a while. He nudges Randall.
