Page 89 of The Tribes of Magic
DIVISIONS
We took the train from the Castle to the Magic Emporium. The distance between the two stations was five stops, for a total travel time of twelve minutes. It sure beat running there.
The train carriage was clean and climate-controlled. It was also for the most part empty. Very few people were permitted to travel freely between the districts of the Fortress, so the trains weren’t often full.
“Look.” Nevada pointed at a poster stuck to the wall across from our seats.
I’d seen a very similar-looking poster before, shortly after I’d arrived in the Fortress. Back then, Kylie had been the one sitting next to me. I felt another twinge of guilt, another reminder that I still hadn’t found her.
Nevada read the colorful poster. “Portia and the Circus of Dreams. The first and only performance on Gaia, one night only, Wednesday night.” She looked at me. “Do you think we could score some tickets?”
“I doubt it. ‘First and only performance on Gaia’? I bet the show was sold out before they could even print that poster.”
The rest of the Apprentices had bigger concerns than the circus show—or at least Bronte and Dutch did.
“What poison are you going to use on us, Altair?” Bronte asked.
“I can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
Bronte huffed with indignation. “That’s completely unfair. How are we to make an antidote when we don’t even know what the poison is?”
“These tasks are supposed to prepare you for real life as a Knight. And in real life, the villain who poisons you won’t kindly indicate what poison they’ve used.”
Altair appeared wholly unconcerned with Bronte’s mental breakdown. His indifference was making her even crazier. Dutch came to her rescue—or tried to, anyway.
“The villain also won’t warn us before they poison us,” he pointed out. “Which you did.”
“Your feedback is duly noted. The next time I decide to poison you, I won’t forewarn you.”
Nevada turned a little green. And Bronte a little red. She pulled up an antidotes book on her phone and started furiously scrolling through the pages.
I probably should have done the same, but I’d only have gotten in a minute or two of studying anyway. Before I knew it, the train doors were opening. We’d arrived at our stop.
When we exited the train, all thoughts of poisons and antidotes vanished from my mind. All I could think about was the Watchers. They were everywhere—on every train platform, on every street corner, in front of every shop. They’d taken over the Magic Emporium.
“Why are they here?” Nevada asked.
As usual, Bronte had the answer. “They’re looking for Rebels and any remaining members of the Brotherhood of Earth. It’s all over the news. Don’t you guys watch the news?”
“Sure, but you have to wade through the hysteria, melodrama, and propaganda to get to theactualnews.”
“Savannah, you’re the one being melodramatic.” Bronte sighed at me, then walked to the front of the line, right next to Altair, like the perfect student she was.
I looked at Nevada. “Hey, what did I do?”
“Nothing. Yet. But the day is young.” Her eyes twinkled at me.
I was mid-chuckle when I saw something that stopped the fun dead in its tracks. Two Watchers pulled a man off the street and into their SUV.
“I know him,” I gasped.
“Really?” Nevada asked. “How?”
“I’ve seen him around the Emporium a few times. His name is…Mr. Patterson. Yes, Mr. Patterson. He often wanders the streets, muttering to himself and smelling strongly of old cheese. He has lengthy conversations with himself about the corrupt Gaian Government taxing us and ruling us from the safety and comfort of Paradise.”
