Page 39 of The Sixth Fraction

In the middle of the building is an atrium. The ceiling is all tiny panes of glass arranged into white-framed octagons. The sun has now risen enough to send warm light in every direction. It catches on gold filigree that’s painted on the walls. A grand marble staircase spills into the floor like wax poured out of a candle.

There are intricate details everywhere: the geometric daisy shapes in the metal barrier that wraps around the second floor; the white leaves that frame the ceiling in plaster; the globe lamps that dangle from delicate chains all throughout the room.

It’s beautiful.

And it doesn’t look worn-out or broken or collapsing or abandoned at all.

She turns to me and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for the ‘cold soup and a hard bench’ routine. I needed to make sure you were committed,” she says.

I get the sudden urge to scream. She put me through that night of hell as a test?

“Plus”—she shrugs—“if you can’t endure that, there are a lot of things about this life you won’t be able to handle.”

I don’t think of myself as a violent person, but in that moment, I want to punch her.

There are rooms all around the edge of the atrium, on the first floor and the second. A girl steps out of one of them. She doesn’t look much older than I am. She has short, messy hair, and it takes a second for me to make sense of her clothes. She’s in a blue sweater—too big, it hangs off one bare shoulder—and black denim pants. Her boots are gray, but they’re not laced up tight like the Abnegation wear them. Instead their laces and tongue flop over, sloppy. On her fingers are wire rings twisted into shapes: a diamond, a sun, a teardrop.

“Rory, right?” Evelyn says to her. “Come here. I have a stray for you to show around.”

Rory looks startled. All her features are overgenerous: wide round eyes, a big mouth, a strong nose.

“Me?” she says.

“Yes. You.” Evelyn gestures to her. “Tris, this is Rory. She came here from Amity a few weeks ago. Rory, this is Tris. Bet you can’t guess where she’s from.”

Rory looks me over and smirks. I brace myself for some kind of comment, but all she says is, “Sure thing.”

Her voice is rough, for a girl’s.

“I’ll check in on you soon,” Evelyn says to me. “Until then, you’ve got a lot to learn. Starting with the rules, Rory.”

And then Evelyn’s gone—not back the way she came but across the lobby and into the next room, where I can faintly see a group of people gathered around a large table.

“I don’t know how she always remembers everyone’s names,” Rory says, as she watches Evelyn disappear into the next room. “I’d take you to breakfast, but we’re not allowed in there for another twenty minutes. The Foxes are doing their morning scheming.”

“Foxes?” I say.

“It’s one of our guilds. Each one does something different. ‘Healers’ are the medics. ‘Travelers’ are the train operators. ‘Makers’ is for if you’re handy. You get the idea. But let’s just say the Foxes Guild is for the quick and clever.” She smiles. “That’s where I’m headed. I hope, anyway. They don’t take just anyone.”

I think of the green banner in the Hall of Factions, stitched with its cluster of white flowers. I wonder if people who call themselves “Foxes” would be capable of an attack like that.

Maybe. I could try to find out.

I say, “These guilds sound like factions.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “They’re about work, not whole philosophies. Once you’re a full member, you can live wherever, wear whatever, befriend whoever you want, as long as you pull your weight.”

I frown at her. I feel like it can’t be as simple as that.

“What do the Foxes do, exactly?” I say.

“Not so fast, Stiff.” Rory holds up her hands. “We have to start with the rules. There are only three, so I’m pretty sure you can remember them all.” She ticks the first one off with her fingers as she says, “One: ‘Don’t get caught.’ Dauntless sentries are bored, and we’re easy targets.”

“But if you’re not doing anything wrong, what’s the problem?”

Rory sighs. “You’re doing something wrong just by existing outside of the factionless sector. You know even there, they’re not supposed to gather in groups larger than five? Sentries call it ‘crowding’ and claim it’s ‘not safe.’ One of many reasons Evelyn and the others started to organize.”