Instructor Garcien pulled down a thin piece of rolled bark from where it was hooked to the wall. On it were inked drawings of different clouds.
She scraped up a handful of dirt off the stony floor, blowing on it until it formed itself into the shape of a cloud in herpalm. It drifted lazily as it expanded, hovering over the front row of benches. A murmur of awe spread through the trainees.
That had to be a Skinscript ability, but which one?
“The clouds, in combination with the wind direction, will warn you before weather reaches you, but they will not protect you from the aftereffects if you're unprepared. If you lose your Arc, you lose everything. A sunken ship is a death sentence for everyone aboard.”
“Weather of any kind agitates the miasmic creatures, and also forms larger more dangerous waves. It also restricts visibility, both for you and for any nasty life forms that rely on sight.” She pointed to the top image on the bark.
Henrik wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I've got some nasty forms myself,” he whispered. I rolled my eyes.
“Is there a question?” Instructor Garcien looked directly at Henrik. “No? Well if you're done talking now, please let me know...by being quiet.”
Henrik's shoulders slumped. He was right, the old Kraken did have teeth.
“You will need to recognize at least eight different types of clouds on sight. Cumulonimbus is the most dangerous. This shape means that a storm is brewing. No Arc should set out if you see these clouds. Nimbostratus and Mammatus clouds,” the cloud of dirt shifted into a new shape, “Are the next most unsafe. These can result in heavy downpour and snowfall.”
I considered the ruddy cloud she held. Memorizing the shapes and names as she continued to read them off would take me a while.
Storms had never scared me, but miasma was deadly enough all on its own, even on a calm day. The image of being tossed around in a storm while surrounded by miasma clung to me like a distant disquiet through the remainder of the day.
Chapter 7
Shifting Tides
Sarina and I finished eating lunch together in the courtyard to the tune of nearby crickets. She offered me her bread roll, explaining they upset her stomach.
Despite myself, I liked her. She had already memorized every piece of this morning's lesson, while I was still reminding myself of the different precipitation types.
“I’d rather eat rocks than do Fitness training this afternoon with Instructor Tyrell,” Sarina confessed.
“Which one is Tyrell, again?” I picked at my fish, trying to separate the bones from the flesh. I knew exactly which one Instructor Tyrell was, but there was no reason to make it obvious that we knew each other. Maybe he’d treat me like every other trainee.
Fat chance, but a girl had to hope.
Sarina gave me an incredulous look. “Zevrial Tyrell? The only person who has survived being alone on an outer isle?” I shook my head, that didn't ring any bells. But also, this was an opportunity to gather more information about him.
Sarina was more social than me, and she’d already made fast friends with many other trainees. They had to be the source of her gossip. “The orphan prodigy?” I shook my head again. She threw her hands up. “The man who almost got himself kicked outta Voyager training before graduating? Dark hair, bedroom eyes, brooding eyebrows, body art for days?”
“Ooooh.” I pretended I’d just put it together. My mind conjured up a memory of those bedroom eyes and I stabbed at another piece of fish, frustrated with the feelings they elicited. There had to be a way to weasel out of dealing with him again. I rubbed irritably at the spot on my chest where Skinscript still remained. It had been several days now, and it hadn’t faded at all. Had his? “You’ll do great.” I assured her, chewing her sacrificed bread roll. “You qualified, so you’ll be capable of whatever training he has planned, too.”
She picked at her remaining food. “You’re probably right. We made it this far, we’ll be fine.” She glanced up. “We should get going, the training starts in a few minutes.”
The Fitness center had a larger interior than I expected, segmented by fiber-mesh screens. The walls were lined with equipment I'd never seen before, everything from ornate bows to resin coated harpoons and gleaming knives. All of the weaponry was held by thick sprawling vines that draped down from the walls. Unlike the courtyard, the fresh salty smell of the air from outside was overpowered by the sour flavor of sweat. Limey light spilled through the bamboo stalks flanking the window, saturating the room in a chartreuse tint.
Zevrial was wearing a training jerkin today, his hard lines juxtaposed against the curving wrinkles in the fabric. It accentuated his muscles in ways that left my mouth dry.
One of the other trainees frowned at Sarina as she and I entered. “Weren’t you just here?”
“Nah, I was at lunch with Lisia.” She frowned back.
“Must be all the new faces.” He shrugged.
“Today, we're doing calisthenics,” Zevrial called out.
I smirked. Calisthenics was basically all I'd done in my spare time while in the Reformatory, training would be easy. His gaze snagged on mine, and he smirked at me, which made my smile drop.
“But with an added twist. Since I already know you all are in great shape, we'll be adding these,” he held up a rope that was interwoven with rocks. “We’ll use them as belts today, and later this week we'll use them as bracelets and anklets too.”
