The Blinding Knife

Chapter 25

Kip caught up to Teia on the way to Blackguard practice. “What was that all about?” he asked.

She didn’t answer immediately. Didn’t look at him.

They came to the lift and had to wait, and Kip thought she wasn’t going to answer him, that he’d somehow been rude without knowing it. He would have started up a conversation about something else, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You know how you’re a superchromat?” she said quietly.

“Freak,” he said. Though other than making him different, as far as he knew, it was a pure advantage, with no drawbacks. “And how did you know?” She wasn’t in his engineering class.

“Everyone knows everything about everyone here, Kip, especially about the new kids, especially when the new kid has a grandfather who’s a Color… or a father who’s the Prism.”

Oh.

“Anyway,” she said, setting her scarf on her head to pull back her hair, but still not making eye contact. “I’m a subchromat. Color-blind. It happens as rarely for girls as superchromacy does for boys, so I’m as much of a freak as you, but you’re a freak in a good way.”

“But, but, how’s that work?”

“Reds and greens look the same to me. Sometimes, I try really hard and convince myself I can tell the difference. But I can’t.” She flushed, as if she hadn’t meant to say so much. “Our lift.” She gestured.

“But what’s that got to do with the secret colors?”

“Nothing.”

“And what are the secret colors?”

She stared hard at him. “Our lift, Kip.”

“Do you draft one of the-”

“Kip!”

They got on the lift. An older student took care of counterweights. They didn’t let first-year students operate the lift. Too many fatalities, they said.

Not reassuring.

“So, while we’re trying to join the Blackguard, what is everyone else doing?” Kip asked.

“Work,” Teia said. “And after we’re done, there’s practicum until dinner. Then another work period every other day of the week. On alternating days, they assign readings. Color theory, mechanics, drawing, religion, arithmetic, hagiographies, politics, lives of the satraps, that sort of thing. It’s a lot of work to maintain the Chromeria, and they say it’s good for us to know what all of that work is, so that when we take over one day, we know it all.”

“What other kinds of work are there?”

“For dims? Mostly cleaning. Every floor, every window, every study mirror. If you’re unlucky or being punished, you get latrines or stables or kitchens. If the older students are busy, we help in the jobs that take more skill or are more physically demanding: lifting the counterweights and the water, manning the great mirrors, carrying magisters’ books back to the libraries. Later still, students who are rich or have good sponsorships are able to bring slaves to do their work for them. Or hire servants or poor students.”

Like you, Kip realized. But not like me, not anymore. A Guile would definitely go into the rich category.

“You should have some sponsors coming around soon, Kip. Just make sure you don’t sell out cheap. They’ll act like they’re your friend, but at the end of the day, they don’t care about you. They’re just scouts, and they get paid out of the difference between what the sponsor is willing to pay and what the drafter is willing to take.”

They emerged from the Prism’s Tower into the sunlight. Kip said, “But I’m not going to have to worry about a sponsor, am I? I mean, I thought my father was going to pay for everything.”

She stopped dead. “What are you talking about?”

Kip raised an eyebrow, lifted his hands, befuddled. “I already told you I’m a Guile. I mean, a bastard, but my father has recognized me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You mean you don’t know? I thought that’s why you came and sat with the rejects today.”

“What are you talking about?” Kip said. His throat felt suddenly tight.

“Andross Guile disavowed you. And he’s the Red. His word is law. That’s why you don’t have a Blackguard escort anymore. That’s why you have to work with the rest of us. That’s why Magister Kadah treated you like she did. You’re like everyone else now, Kip. Except with more talent. And a lot more enemies. You’re not a Guile anymore.”

Inexplicably, Kip laughed. It was the best news he’d heard in weeks.