Media: Cadence

Music of the chapter: "Trace of Gravity" by Mark Petrie

Cadence saw a group of recruits pass her. They were shoving one another, laughing and sharing jokes exclusive only to the four of them.

"Excuse me?" Cadence ran up to them. "How can I get to hall three?"

Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. The shortest of the group, a boy with piggy eyes and a crop of brown hair walked up to her. "Is the pig actually talking to us?"

"I'm just asking for directions," Cadence said defensively, taken aback by his sudden brashness. Was it something she said?

She still couldn't understand what she did wrong, but then noticed the colored bands on their right forearms. Cadence swore inwardly. She couldn't had seen them just now, their bands were facing the wall.

"I'm going to have to wash my ears now, pig," the boy said in an unfriendly tone, a tone which reminded her of Khazaria. "Go back and roll in the muck."

His other friends laughed. The only girl in the group clapped him on the back, saying "good one!"

"Down the hallway, take a left and go upstairs." A boy carrying a bag of books stopped next to Cadence. "It's the room with the red knocker."

He looked really familiar—ruddy curls, a skeletal frame and soft blue eyes. Where had she seen him before?

"Aw," the girl said in a mocking tone. "Look at Elijah, going soft on a pig again."

"She's not a pig, she's Murka," Elijah replied in an unfriendly tone. "If you cannot differentiate humans and animals, you should see a Healer."

Elijah. Cadence blinked. He couldn't possibly be the Elijah Khavarosk, sole heir to the House Khavarosk, High Priest in line of the Hall of Spirits. She remembered him now, he had been at the Yule party thrown by the Oreliks—the Oracle.

The piggy boy looked torn between punching Elijah in the face to prove his leadership to his gang and wanting to run off with his tail in between his legs. "Pig." He finally spat and walked off, his friends trailing behind him.

"They disgrace their Houses." Elijah shook his head. "I apologize on their behalf and I hope you'll have a great day." He nodded and walked down the corridor.

Insulted and hurt, Cadence stomped down the corridor to the room with the red knockers. In House Orelik, no one had yelled "pig" into her face before, not even Khazaria. She had other names for Cadence. The derogatory term "pig" was used by Vayra on Murka to depict their lesser status. Throw them into the mud, cover them up with manure, and still no one could tell the difference, because they were normal.

Still furious, she lifted the knocker and banged it against the wood, much harder than she intended to.

"Come in!" A male voice called.

Cadence pushed open the door and felt the familiar sense of dread settle in. People. Teacher. A crowd. She could feel her heart racing, the sweat gathering in her palm as she approached the class of thirty other recruits. She saw a grinning Misha wave at her before nudging her desk mate.

The teacher was a kind-looking old man with a few wisps of silver hair left on his spotted head. Tall and hunched, he waved a skeletal hand at the only desk with a free spot. "You must be Cadence Novik," he said. "Welcome to the Left Order."

To Cadence's surprise, the whole class put their hands together and started clapping. Embarrassed, she slipped into the seat next to a plump boy with ginger hair so long, it covered his eyes.

"We're learning about foreign culture today, Cadence," the teacher said once the clapping had subsided. "I'm Master Baatar, pleasure to have you in this class."

"Do you have the textbook?" The boy next to Cadence said.

She nodded, plopping her bag of books onto the desk.

"Master Baatar drawls, try not to fall asleep. He might seem like a harmless old man now, but once he gets riled up, he can defeat a Swan all by himself."

"What are Swans?" Cadence asked.

"Varya," Arik answered. "Fancy pants name for stuck up pricks."

Cadence scoffed. The Varya were anything but swans. They're ruthless, prideful people who look down on anyone unlike their own.

"Psst." The girl across the aisle whispered. "New girl."

Cadence glanced over. The girl handed her a roughly folded piece of paper. "Misha asked me to pass this to you."

Cadence's hands started trembling as she unfolded the piece of paper. Misha's untidy scrawl glared at her, the dark strokes extending their legs and started to perform a dance.

"You can't read, can you?" Her desk mate said, noticing she was making no advance to write a reply.

Cadence shook her head. "Not really."

"Let me." The boy looked at her for permission before taking the note from her hands.

"You are lucky you can't read this," the boy chuckled. "You'll burn your eyes."

"What does it say?"

"To put it bluntly, she called you the new bitch. Don't take it offensively. To Misha, all her friends are called bitches."

Cadence looked at Misha, who flashed her teeth in the form of a distorted grin.

"My name is Arik, Arik of the High Mountains." He extended a hand to Cadence, who promptly shook it. "Cadence Novik. Unfortunately for me, I don't have a tribal place name."

"Most unfortunate," Arik agreed. "My family lived in the High Mountains for years, until they decided they wanted a new life, a more modern approach, and moved down to the Region of Games."

"Why join the army then?" Cadence said. "You have a family."

Arik cocked his head and looked at Cadence with a sudden intensity. "Have you ever hated someone so much, you wish you could dedicate your entire life pursuing revenge?"

"Uh," Cadence said. "No?"

Arik flipped through his textbook without even looking at the pages, Master Baatar forgotten.

"My family lived outside the walls of the Region of Games. We weren't Varya, none of us were. The application to move into the Region of Games would take an eternity to process, so we were stranded outside the walls. The guards wouldn't let us in. That night, I still remember the howl of the cold wind, just like now-" He glanced out at the snow storm beating against the Hall windows. "-we camped outside, exposed and vulnerable. Then, the Rakasha came."

Cadence blanched, feeling herself spiral back into the moment when the Rakasha bit off her father's head, chewing upon it like it was a toy. Arik continued.

"My parents tried to protect me of course, I was only seven. While they distracted the Rakasha, I ran like a coward. I should have helped them. They're dead because of me."

"You have no Celestium, no training, no Affinities," Cadence tried to sound reassuring, but a small part of her voice had started to break. "It's not your fault."

"I might not be able to protect my family back then." Ales gulped in several deep breaths, sounding like a wounded rhino. "But now I'm in the Left Order. I can protect other children and families from suffering the same fate, so they won't have to grow up without parents."

"My father was killed by a Rakasha too," Cadence said. "I caused it."

"You're such a hypocrite, Cadence," Arik said. "Both our parents were killed by Rakasha, yet you say I am not the cause but you are? I believe I have the right to blame myself."

"I-" Cadence didn't know how to reply to that. "I'm sorry. I only meant to-"

"Comfort me." Arik stopped flipping pages. "A lot of people try to comfort me, but I am already beyond that, Cadence. A lot of people who come here have faced some form of torture in their lives, something that tore them apart until they were beyond repair. We all have something in common, so don't pity any of us."

"I shall keep that in mind." Cadence commenced picking at her rope bracelet. Did she anger Arik? She didn't want to make enemies on her first day in class. The group of Swans were enough, she was glad she didn't have to see them in her classes, except for combat training, Ales had mentioned they shared that particular class.

"Do you need me to read to you?" Arik said. "Master Baatar is moving onto Lekhobar now."

"That would be splendid," said Cadence thankfully, relieved that Arik wasn't mad at her.

Arik opened the book, with precision this time, landing the page on forty-six.

"This is the complete Atlas and History of Esvanira," he said. "By Zaheera Oreva."

"Sounds Lekhobarian," Cadence said.

"Zaheera is indeed Lekhobarian. She was one of the few who managed to escape their slave masters and came to Moskava seeking refuge. She used to be a rich trader, owned many ships and traveled wide, until a storm destroyed the vessel carrying her, washing her ashore of Lekhobar. Thanks to her, we have great insight of the world we live in."

"Nice," Cadence said. "You like reading about world cultures?"

"Well." Arik looked happy at Cadence's praise, and started twiddling with his thumbs. "I want to get onto the tracker unit. Trackers have to know whole atlases and cultures in their heads. Did you know Trackers make up a large number of Moskavan ambassadors?"

"I thought ambassadors were reserved solely for Varya?"

Arik shook his head. "Varya are mostly in the combat unit where their talents are needed the most. Folks like you and me can do the boring paperwork, or the dirty job of dying in the front lines."

"You two at the back," Master Baatar suddenly said loudly. "I acknowledge that you're the new recruit, Cadence, but do pay attention during class. It's of uttermost importance that you familiarize yourself with the shapes and cultures of our world. Pray tell, Cadence, how many known nations do we have in Esvanira?"

Cadence stood up, her heart hammering in her chest. "Uhh..." She glanced at Arik for help. He obliged, but Cadence couldn't read his lips, they moved too fast.

"M-Moskava," she stuttered, trying her best to recall her lessons with Cole. "Eyria, Lekhobar, uhh."

"Eyria is our neighbor, Lekhobar lies on the other side of the world. What about our other neighbors, apart from our ally?"

"I don't know, sir," Cadence said lamely.

"Balktesh, Soval and Maysia, my child." Master Baatar tapped the blackboard. "They're the smaller nations, and they trade amongst themselves, for they do not wish to trifle with the affairs of the bigger and more powerful nations. Do you know which nation is ally with which?"

Cadence shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn.

"Moskava's allies are Eyria and Maysia. Lekhobar has no allies, they're a sad, lonely, and secluded nation. Balktesh and Soval are allies and comrades in arms. As recruits, you are expected to know your friends and your enemies. Sit down, Cadence, and pay attention next time."

"Sorry," Arik said as Cadence sat down, embarrassed. "Should have warned you that we weren't allowed to talk in his class."

"You talked to me first." Cadence huffed.

Arik grinned. "It's always fun to get someone in trouble."

"What's wrong with you recruits?" Cadence shoved him in the arm, but then hurriedly dipped her head as Master Baatar's sharp gaze swept through her.

"You say it like you're no recruit," Arik whispered back. "You're one of us now, like it or not."

Something suddenly hit Cadence on the head, hard. She bit back a shout of surprise and glared at the scrunched up piece of paper on her desk. She glanced back to find Misha motioning at her to open the paper.

Arik made a knowing sound. "It's the invitation."

"What invitation?" She took the paper apart. It was empty except for a single scrawled word—tonight. At least it was what Cadence thought the word was.

"Tonight what?"

Arik dropped his voice into a bare whisper. "We'll leave at midnight to perform the Great Tradition."

"I thought there is a curfew?" Cadence said, remembering her timetable. "Curfew is at ten."

"Screw the curfew. You are going abroad on one of the recruits' oldest traditions. Our seniors did it, and so did the seniors before them."

"What are we going to do?"

There was a mad gleam in Arik's eye. "You'll see. The guard of the Left Order common rooms goes away for a break at midnight sharp. He's got beer stashed somewhere around, and he is not supposed to be drinking while on duty, but I would drink too if I was stuck doing such a monotonous job."

"When you say recruits, you mean all of them? There are like hundreds of us. Will the Varya be coming too?"

"Shhh!" Arik almost clapped a hand over Cadence's mouth. "Not so loud, you don't want old Baatar to hear, do you? We do it in batches of six. Tonight is my turn. Also, who the hell would invite the Swans? They'll tattle on us all."

"But if you bring me along, wouldn't I drag you back? I mean, I am new, after all." There was a small, uneasy feeling buzzing at the back of Cadence's head. If her brother heard about this, he would stop her from even going near Arik entirely. "I don't like the sound of it."

"Aw, don't be a spoil sport. It's perfectly safe. Generations and generations of recruits have done this, and nobody in the Hall has ever found out. Just stick to what we say, and you'll be good."

He patted Cadence on the shoulder and switched his attention to Master Baatar, no longer answering Cadence even when she pressed him for more information about the secret plan later at night.

Cadence chased Arik's pencil around the table with her finger. She didn't want to go, whatever they were planning, it sounded dangerous, stupid even. Yet, she could make new friends and distract herself from the pain of her father's death.

She decided to let the Orishas determine her fate. Right is yes, left is no. Cadence spun the pencil. Round and round it rotated, like the arrow of a compass going haywire. Air resistance caught up, leaving the pencil wobbling precariously to the right, almost touching no. Cadence rolled the pencil back to Arik, closed her eyes, and sighed.