I frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m a nobody.”
“Oh, don’t be modest. You managed to achieve plenty inside the Reformatory. And you stole my contact list right out from under my nose, with no one the wiser. You’ll soon be a graduated Voyager, complete with Skinscript brand and direct access to Arcs, Starshells, and everything else on the outer isles.”
Continuing to argue with him about having not stolen the list was pointless. “So is everyone else here. Including you.” I gestured around to the other attendees.
“Yes, but none of these other graduates have your history. Only one other is a former Apostate, and he is rather incompetent.”
One, two, three, four, pause.
“You tried to trick me into killing Nikolach so you could take his dust supply because you think Henrik isn’t capable enough.” I shook my head. “That's insane.”
“No, it’s logical. Alas, plans don’t always work out. I am still considering the wisdom in keeping you around at all.”
I took a wary step away from him. “Because of this contact list I presumably stole? Which I knew nothing about?”
He glared at me. “There is that. And because you are too unpredictable. Wherever you go, my plans unravel. I try to plan without your involvement, you prevent my greatest rival from taking the bait I laid out for him, keeping him locked up for another two months. I try to plan with your involvement and you fail to finish the job. And you’re wrapped up too closely with too many other important people. You’ve made yourself too valuable a piece to lose just for my convenience. So, we are at an impasse.”
“Pity.” It was the best type of pity, the type that kept us at a stalemate instead of with him actively trying to kill me.
Yeshar gave me a cold, unblinking stare. “Oh, I’ll still benefit from using you. For now, that will have to suffice.” He frowned. “I still don’t understand why you didn't kill him.”
If he knew I’d tried to, would he see me as a bigger threat and try to kill me?
“Call it an attack of conscience.”
“Fine time to grow one. You'd kill a Sentinel, but not an Apostate.”
“Nikolach killed the Sentinel, not me.”
He sneered, leaning forward toward me. I jerked backwards. “Don't ever mistake me for a simpleton. If your claim were true, Nikolach wouldn't be out for your blood.” I struggled for calm, my heart rattling against my ribcage.
His eyes were hard. “Don’t cross me again. Don’t even consider stealing from me again. Nothing on this island, not theVoyagers, not the Ascendancy, not even the Devourer can help you if you make yourself into my enemy. Stop stirring shit up. I will run out of reasons to keep you alive if you keep kicking hornet's nests. As for the rest…” His hands relaxed at his sides. “Consider it restitution for the stolen list.”
My stomach dropped. “The rest of what?”
“Well for starters, today.”
He turned and stalked away.
Before I could ask him anything else, Instructor Weavir stepped onto the platform and began to extol the virtues of becoming Voyagers. For over an hour, with lots of gesticulations and gusto. Something about our Tides, the Devourer, and what an auspicious day this was for all of us.
With Voyager service now a reality, my childhood nightmares of Krakens had returned to haunt me. Unable to sleep last night despite my exhaustion, I had slipped in a brief nap after the final exam. My mind was half-dreaming while still technically awake, so focusing on the details of his speech was impossible.
Instructor Penbrook approached the podium with a large bottle of shimmering ink as the speech wore down.
Show time.
I hoped I’d be given the Fortitude Skinscript. It was the best for keeping me alive once they sent me out on operations. I hadn’t seen Zevrial since receiving my first two glyphs, which had left me with no opportunity to ask for it.
And right on cue.
From the edges of the treeline, I spotted his telltale form. Dark eyes swept over the crowd, snapping to mine. His eyebrows pulled down in a frown.
Nice to see you, too.
“Benji Westbrooke,” Instructor Penbrook called out. “Receiving Agility.”
Benji stepped up to the platform and extended his right arm. With brusk proficiency, Instructor Penbrook dipped a paint brush into the Starshell ink and transferred the glyph onto his arm. They said a few other words, too quiet to hear. Instructor Garcien handed Benji a sheathed dagger, length of rope, and spyglass, saying a few words of her own. Benji beamed.
