The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (19 page)

“
Ink production,
”
Zink tells me with a wave of his hand.
“
It
’
s something I have no aptitude with so I can
’
t tell you much about what happens in here.
”

A myriad of smells assault my olfactory senses when I enter the room. Boxes and jars of every shape and size are neatly stored on every inch of available surface. They are crammed full with what looks like herbs, plants, leaves, insect parts, body fluids, oils and all manner of minerals. I walk past two vast, solid looking tables in the center of the room. My eyes travel over the assorted bowls, mortar and pestles, writing ink stones, glass tubes and collections of knives, tongs and long-handled spoons that cover the surfaces. There is a sky blue concoction simmering over a small flame. It
’
s as thick as wet mud and smells like the fertilizers used in the fields. I move away quickly after catching a whiff and gravitate towards the long wall on the right where hundreds of filled phials, systematically labeled, reside in a series of roughly carved, dark walnut cabinets with rippled glass doors.

“
Marum is the lead inkest, so you
’
ll have to ask him what everything is. All I know is that the ink available for my level of intusmagus is over here,
”
indicating the fourth cabinet from the door.
“
I
’
m working my way through understanding them. Just finished with this one,
”
he pulls a small phial filled with a glutinous substance the color of dying grass.

“
What does it do?
”
I ask him.

“
It
’
s one of the healing agents- they work with the nerves on the legs and feet.
”

I slowly make my way down the row of ink, reading labels as I go. There is immense variation in colors and consistencies displayed in these glass phials, more ink than there were nerve groups in the first diagram I saw. At the end of the row, I come to a cabinet with solid wood and brass doors. When I try to open the doors, they won
’
t budge.

“
That
’
s the experimental cabinet. Nothing in there is ready for application. It
’
s kept locked to avoid a mistaken application.
”

“
They are developing new inks?
”

“
Of course, we are always trying to evolve, trying to gain the advantage.
”

“
Advantage over what?
”

Zink only smiles and shakes his head.
“
Let me introduce you to Juwas.
”

He guides me out of the ink room and back down the hall through the intersection with the main hall. He bangs on a plank door with a boar
’
s head knocker. A muffled voice answers and he opens it. The room is almost in complete darkness. Zink flicks on a light by the door and my eyes blink at the brightness.

Bolts of fabrics are littered all over the room, sewing machines, dressmaker dummies and dyes strewn everywhere. In the back corner, hunched over a table, is the form of a woman
slightly rocking
with her back to us. Her grizzled dirty gray hair sticks up in every direction.

“
Juwas, I brought you someone new,
”
Zink cheerfully calls to her.

“
Eh-
”
she grunts not turning around.

“
Go on,
”
Zink whispers to me,
“
Go say hello.
”

I
’
m not sure why I feel nervous. Something about the strangeness of Juwas
’
body posture, her methodical rocking motion, and her almost animal-like grunt make me feel like I
’
d be walking a tightrope across the floor to her. But I walk forward at Zink
’
s push and say,
“
My name is Keres, Juwas. It
’
s- uh- it
’
s nice to meet you.
”

“
Heh.
”

“
Did you make my uniform? It fits me perfectly.
”

“
Know it,
”
Juwas croaks with the voice of a thousand bullfrogs.

“
Well, um, thank you, I really do love it.
”

Juwas spins around in her chair fast, whipping up her head to look at me. Her face is like old cracked leather. Scarred and tough, while her solid, stark, milk-white eyes staring blankly at me make a bright, sickening contrast.

“
Not to love. To use,
”
she rasps. She makes a move to grab my arm; the leather fingerless gloves she wears have metal plates in the palms and I jump and shiver when their unnaturally cold surface touches my bare skin. Goosebumps travel up my arm, spreading quickly over my whole body.

“
Yes, of course. I do use it,
”
I look wildly at Zink who is grinning like an idiot in the middle of the room, twirling a piece of thick cotton cord in his fingers.

“
Don
’
t. Not yet. Will though,
”
she lets go of my arm, nodding to herself. She turns back to the fabric she was working with,
“
This too. Yes. Before you go.
”
Go? Go where? To this war we seem to be training for, to the enemy we are trying to gain the advantage on? Has she looked into my mind with her niveous white eyes? Has she seen my Play Group planning to escape Chelon? I look at Zink again and he starts to chuckle, unable to hold it in anymore.

“
Alright, Juwas. We
’
ll let you get back to work. Come on, Keres,
”
he says,
“
I
’
ll show you the laundry.
”

I trip over a long roll of fabric that bangs against my shins like it
’
s made of iron and stumble out of the room. As soon as Zink pulls the door shut, we can hear Juwas let out a crackling roar of what I assume is laughter.

“
Who is that?
”
I demand, embarrassed by my absurd reaction.

“
I introduced you, that
’
s Juwas. She makes all our uniforms from the fiber collection to the finished product.
”

“
What
’
s wrong with her?
”

“
Wrong with her? Oh, that. She
’
s blind, did it to herself as a baby. When she rubbed her eyes for the first time, she burned out her irises.
”

“
Oh, how awful!
”
I look back at the door with a feeling of pity mixed with nausea.

“
Journer says that it
’
s not that she is particularly strong in ability but that her hands are weak. She has normal hands, not like ours. It
’
s like a birth defect, born marked for the Unspoken but not with the body to contain it. So they pulled her from The Mothers immediately and she
’
s lived in the Warren ever since.
”

“
Who raised her if she wasn
’
t allowed to stay on the surface?
”

“
They all pitched in. People took turns staying with her until she was old enough to be alone. Someone developed the leather and steel palm covers that keep her from doing any additional damage, and someone taught her skills so she would be useful to others. But she doesn
’
t need sewing to be useful. There
’
s something in Juwas that
’
s far beyond any of us- she sees without eyes.
”

“
Like the future?
”
Please let it be the future and not into minds.

“
Not exactly, no. The future isn
’
t something you can just read like a book. There are too many external elements that shape it so it
’
s impossible to know it. She can bend the present to look around the corner at the future. No one is really sure how much she sees, she
’
s not very chatty.
”

“
I gathered that.
”
If Juwas can see to PG3456
’
s escape, at least she won
’
t be able to tell anyone else.

Zink shows me the laundry room and how to use the machines to clean my uniforms. Turns out, I wasn
’
t too far off with my sink experiment. I was just missing the motion to drive the dirt and sweat out of the fabric.
“
Don
’
t wash in the mornings, Juwas
’
apartment is right next door and the vibrations from the machines bother her. She sleeps late.
”

We pass through an expansive room with comfortable seating arrangements, table games and televisions, and come back out on the food hall. Zink shows me the kitchen and dining areas and then takes me to the med bay we passed earlier.

“
Let
’
s stock up now, for their release,
”
he says.

We pass through a row of high narrow, rectangular beds with machines grouped around them and come to an open door at the back of the room.

“
Right. We will need a disinfectant, numbing agents, bandages, maybe a clotter just in case.
”
He is talking to himself more than to me as he pulls open compartments and stores various things in his pack.
“
One of your Play Group is training to be a Healer, right?
”

“
Yes, Doe is.
”

“
Do you think she will be in any condition to help with the others?
”

“
I- I don
’
t think so,
”
I say, remembering her sunken eyes and blood-caked arms after only four hours of the rack doesn
’
t leave me very hopeful.