31 - Cello

In the morning, I'm woken by Tiger. I'm lying on the bench and my whole body aches. Tiger's standing over me, looking at something down the corridor. Wincing, I sit up, trying to loosen the knots from my shoulder. I've never slept on something this hard before, maybe the floor would have been a better alternative. I look to see what Tiger is staring at. A bed is being wheeled away and on it lies a human-shaped form covered in a sheet.

"Seran's dead," Tiger says.

I frown, I didn't know Seran, but someone dying isn't something you want to hear about the moment you wake up. "And the other one?"

"Jika? Well, he's healing quite well. They say he'll even be able to go home by Thursday."

"Do you know all the Jewels?"

"No, there are over ten thousand of us; I just knew those two because we arrived around the same time."

I try to stand up but find that my legs are asleep. "Were they friends of yours?"

Tiger shrugs, I don't know if that means a yes or a no. I guess it means both. I try to stomp the pinpoints and needles out from my legs. "So, will there be a funeral? Is there a cemetery where Jewels are buried? Does his family know?"

Tiger looks at me from the corner of his eye, "You always ask so many questions."

I look up at him, trying not to glare with my blurry early-morning eyes. "How else am I supposed to get answers?"

"Are answers really worth anything?" Tiger sighs. He looks tired, but I probably look worse. "Okay, so the answers to your questions are: no, no and no. They'll just burn the body and throw the ash and the Jewel into the Zephyr."

"Seriously?" that option never crossed my mind. "So if I die, my mom will never know."

"What good would knowing be for her?" Tiger stifles a yawn; he looks moody, nothing like his usual self. "Whether dead or alive, it's all the same, you know? She won't ever see you again anyway. There's no reason to waste sentiment and commemorate your existence. We're just embodiments of the same souls; our existence is short and temporary."

"So you believe in that cosmic nonsense? I would never have imagined you would."

"We're living proof of it, kid." He thrusts a bundle of clothes at me, "Minty told me to deliver this to Syianne. You give it to her, I'm pissed."

He turns and walks away. I take it he's sad about his friend dying, I tell myself that if I see anyone from our team today I'll ask them about how to deal with Tiger when he's in this sort of mood. He's one big guy; I wouldn't want to find myself on his bad side.

I knock on Syianne's door, but there's no answer so I let myself in. The moment I open the door, she turns over, but her breathing suggests that she's still asleep. Quietly, I walk to the side of her bed and sit on the stool, placing the Zephyr uniform and other things delivered by Minty on the table next to her.

I watch as she stirs and opens her eyes, wrinkling her forehead when she sees my face, and surveys the room. It takes her a moment to remember where she is and why. "Morning sunshine," I say cheerfully.

"Mmm," she croaks back.

"Minty sent you a uniform."

"You look terrible Cello," she says hoarsely as she props herself on her elbow, squinting her eyes at the door. "What time is it?"

"6:30 AM. Want some breakfast? Maybe we could go have some at the dining dome; I'll ask them if you can get discharged or whatever they call it here." I start to get up, but she grabs my arm. "Wait." She looks at me, and then looks away, "I had a bad dream, could you talk to me until I'm completely awake."

I sit back down, nodding, "do you want to talk about the dream?"

"No, thank you."

"Oh, I almost forgot," I pull the slip of paper with the penciled down phone number on it. I hand it to her, "Your boyfriend called last night. Apparently, he lost his phone — this is where you could reach him."

She grabs the paper from my hand, rips it in half and throws it in my face. Or tries to, it's paper; it just flutters down onto my lap. I stare at her, "Don't kill the messenger."

"He's such an idiot," she's glaring at the room. I have no doubt that she's fully awake now. "After all the danger he got into because of me, he still wants to see me? My mistake was calling him in the first place. If I just disappear, he'll never be able to find me. Cello, throw that out, please."

I sigh and make a show of picking up both parts of the now ripped paper from my lap. My conversation with Rosalisa and the long night in the Healing dome corridor had caused me to see the evening's events in a different light. "The way I see it, Lemonade," I distractedly hold both pieces together in front of my face, "is if you want to blame someone, blame the people who keep us in the dark." I rise to my feet, "I'll go find a healer, and then let's get you out of here."

I leave her to calm down in the room and head down the corridor in search of someone in charge. I have bad karma since last night. Butting heads with Artus, arguing with Risa, annoying Tiger and upsetting Syianne — it seems like all I could do lately is get on everyone's nerves.

I stroll down the corridor in search of people. Sleeping on a hard wooden bench is really bad for you, my whole body is aching and I'm beginning to lose the edge I felt when I woke up. My thoughts are growing sluggish and I hope the weather outside is good. I may be able to find a sunny spot on the grass and catch a few winks before I have to do whatever it is I have to do today.

A small man walks out of a room and into the corridor ahead of me, I blink, "Morning Xeprim," I call, "haven't seen you in a few days."

"Why hello Duryiend," he greets me and then presses the tips of his fingers together. Risa sticks her head out from my pocket, hopeful to see Old Flent's Alprine and have some play time. "I'm glad to see you're here. Come, have a seat, I want to talk to you about some matters."

Some people, as they get older, start to slow down. When I think about it —that's completely paradoxical — since now they have less time to waste. Xeprim's got the right idea, he doesn't hesitate and gets straight to the point. Who knows how long he's got and if he'll have time to do everything he wants to? We sit side by side on another wooden bench in the corridor. I let my arms dangle between my knees, trying to stretch the stiffness out of my back.

"Duryiend, Leolan has probably told you about Belgrun. My advice to you is this: don't go searching for Belgrun, avoid him if you can."

I straighten up, I forgot about that guy, Belgrun the Alprine-holder who managed to escape the Zephyr "Why not?"

"You have to stay true to yourself. If you buy what he's selling, he'll use your purity against you."

"Is he a bad guy, then?"

Xeprim shakes his head, "Precisely the opposite. He's good to the bone, like everyone. He is filled with good ideas and intentions, the two of you are astoundingly alike. I was already old when he was young like you. I Fledged him as I did you, as you must Fledge the young when you'll be old. But good ideas can take wrong turns and could have a bad outcome." He turns to me, his crinkling smile like a crescent channel inside his old face, and he touches my chest, where I suppose my heart is. "Stay true to your own way, protect yourself, protect your beliefs, and most importantly, focus on protecting her."

I blink, is he referring to Risa, my Alprine? Why do I feel like he's talking about Syianne? It's probably because I'm so tired everything feels intense, but his words are oddly touching. He rises to his feet, "When you Plunge on Friday, don't forget what you've learned. That is the trouble with the human mind, lessons learned are so easily forgotten. And also, my last lesson to you before your Plunge is this: If, while you're in there, the Scribbles should seek you out, do not reject them, do not fear them, just read what they have to say to you, and go about your day. They can be such pests if you refuse them, believe me, I have tried."

He turns to leave and stops, "Oh, and I almost forgot. After you Plunge, don't eat anything with tomatoes in it, otherwise you'll be spending the rest of Saturday and Sunday in the toilet. May the west wind bless you!" he waves and walks away.

I stare after him. What an extraordinary man.

*

"Apple-flavoured Zribble marinated in warm water, dig in." I lay the bowl and a spoon in front of Syianne and laugh at the face she makes. I have also made myself Zribble porridge, at least this way it rolls down the throat. Now that we're out of the Healing dome, my spirits have lifted. I'm also glad that the fellow named Jika is going to survive. Due to the unbreakable rule that no two Jewels can die on the same day, the Zephyr had been sustaining his life long enough for the healers to save him.

Syianne is in a better mood. After we eat, we find a patch of grass graced with spring sunshine next to the dining dome and rest while waiting to be told what to do next. Tiger shows up again, looking a little bit less disgruntled than he was before. He sits his large lumbering form on the grass next to us and looks up at the sky. "Everyone is feeling festive about Jika surviving," he muses.

"He's a popular fellow, isn't he?" I ask, remembering the receptionist's choked voice.

"He's got a personality that grows on you. Somehow he never got caught up in the Zephyr game of lying and backstabbing, I guess it's because he works for the Zribble factory downtown. The other two, Seran and Markreet were like that too. But Jika always led the trend. Because they Plunge only once a year and spend the rest of the time elsewhere in the city, the group kept a steady relationship with the outside human world. They were usually disguised while wandering the city and didn't even bother with uniforms. That's why there's a rumour that those three had been compromised by the Core."

I feel the heat rising in my head, "Why would the Core do something like that?"

Tiger shrugs his broad shoulders and flashes me an ambiguous smile, "The Core follows its own agenda, but even inside it there are contradicting ideas of how things should work. I don't know who did this and why, but all rumours in the Zephyr originate from some twisted sort of truth."

Rumours aren't just rumours in the Zephyr. Whatever this might mean, it makes me feel sick to the stomach.

"It makes sense," Syianne says. "You said that the Zribble factory boys kept connections with human society. Neither the Core nor the Humane Advocates would want connections between humans and Jewels." Her voice is so dry I can't even imagine what she's thinking. "Keeping the Jewels as isolated as possible can help the Humane Advocates' cause, but it also allows the Zephyr to keep its autonomy without having to answer to the Council."

I raise my eyebrows at Syianne. I have no idea where she comes up with these things. Sometimes she sounds as if she's quoting from a history book, one that is yet to be written. She looks back at me and frowns, "Leolan said that the Humane Advocates march whenever there's a financial crisis. In the end, it's all about money. The Zephyr is financed by public funds."

"And what about you? Does the fact that you got hurt have anything to do with money or the Zephyr's autonomy? Were you really in the wrong place at the wrong time? It feels like we weren't warned about this on purpose." My voice is harsh, almost savage. I don't mean to sound so angry next to Syianne. Her fingers clench into fists, I put my hand over hers, feeling like an idiot to have stressed her in a moment like this.

"That," Syianne whispers, "was someone else's agenda."

Tiger clears his throat, "Anyway, I came to tell you that neither of you have given in your paperwork. You're not on the payroll yet. The exam has been postponed to tomorrow, so go back to the team mansion, get your starting packets and hand them in. When you're done with that, finish whatever studying you have to do." He pauses and then smiles, "Since you're going to be on a team, the exam results don't really matter... so don't be stressed."

"So if we're somehow not on the team, the exam results do matter?" Syianne asks.

One of Tiger's dark eyebrows arches. His eyes are so unnaturally pale in comparison with his dark complexion; I've never seen someone so brown-skinned with blue eyes. "Yeah, but don't worry about it."

"I won't," I promise. According to my logic, if we don't make it to the team in the end, something really went wrong and then whatever happens after that hardly matters.

Syianne doesn't seem as carefree as I feel.

*

The starting packets end up to be the most gruelling work we've had to do since arriving at the Zephyr. Arla the Receptionist of the Zephys had said that they were special, so I was expecting something more exciting than this.

The stack of papers is endless explanations of regulations and rules. Rules about how to conduct ourselves in public, rules about respecting the Core, dress codes, and rules about Plunging. (Undefined are required to perform one [1] annual Plunge. Failure to abide by this minimum quota will be subject to speculation by the members of the Core and disciplinary actions will be carried out accordingly. Jewels that weigh over 200 pounds or are over the age of 80 will be automatically excused if they do not wish to Plunge.) There's a set of guild rules - apparently, the Zephyr is legally considered some sort of guild. Most of these rules consist of how to keep all guild activities secret. There are rules about being a team member as well. It turns out that since we've been designated to a team, we have to fill out twice as many forms. We fill out form after form of personal information, including every possible detail of our lives before coming here.

"Cello, what do I do if I can't remember the name of my kindergarten teacher?"

"Make something up, that's what I did with all my teachers up to high school. Oh wait, damnit, I wrote Ginjy Blakentosh as both my fourth grade teacher and my kindergarten teacher."

"Why do they want to know the names of our childhood friends even the ones we didn't keep in touch with?"

"Probably some Undefined has a job to trace every possible contact and make sure that they don't know any secrets."

"Romantic relationships? Past and Current?"

"I'm glad they don't want us to include the future ones."

Syianne laughs. After several mind-numbing hours, we finally reach the bottom of the stack. I yawn hugely, flattening my face on the table. The mansion is a short drive from the Zephyr. It's amazing and quiet; you can't even tell we're in the city. We sit on the round kitchen table with the large floor to ceiling arched windows overlooking a perfectly manicured garden. Hans, the quiet red Jewel, has a penchant for gardening. Minty explained that red magic is good for giving things a boost, whether it is other people's magic, or the growing of plants and even healing. Reds are supposedly the best assistants you could have; they're the people you want next to you when you're in trouble. The boost could go both ways though; they can potentially make you tumble downhill if you so much as lower your gaze around them. They just need a seed, a loose end, any sort of beginning, and they'll go on and boost it.

I guess red is the sort of magic I'd want to have. No one knows what grey magic is like, but red sounds like the kind of magic I can get used to.

The rest of the kitchen is a beautiful combination of marble counters and wooden cabinets. I've lived my entire life in a box-like flat with a disappointingly low ceiling on the third floor in a building with no lift. The square windows were small and it was always poorly lit. It was clean, but the furniture was shabby and while nothing was ever broken because my mother has good hands, everything in my mother's flat got fixed at least two dozen times until it became beyond repair. Then, and only then, would it be replaced by something second hand that my mom found on the internet or in some yard sale.

The mansion isn't new, but it's luxurious. It's how I imagined a palace would be. Bane had told me yesterday that it dated back to the Tagry-Darabinya Empire. At that time, the nobility supported the Zephyr and this house had been a gift from Darabesh nobility. That doesn't really explain the Tagrin inscription carved into the stonework over the large front doors: Syigrumanann Hemnpidriin ga. Everyone was surprised when I told them that it meant: "The World that Goes Within and Under Shall be Called Up to the Light of the Wind."

I don't know why there would be such an inscription on a house. In Tagrin a person would use such a sentence if they were referring to something that is outrageous, far-fetched that can never, ever happen.