Truancy Page 17

  Zyid looked very closely at his face, and Tack suddenly felt squeamish. Tack had recognized Zyid in an instant, but surely Zyid couldn’t recognize him? After all, Tack had been covered in soot, tears, and blood a few days past when they had both borne witness to Suzie’s death.

  Tack cursed himself silently. He knew that he should be feeling anger right now, anger enough to strike out at Zyid, strike out at the killer he’d sworn revenge against. But somehow, under that fierce gaze, Tack couldn’t muster the rage, or the will, to attack—both had been overwhelmed by fear and awe.

  “You’re physically capable in appearance and in rumor,” Zyid observed at last, and Tack felt immense relief at having avoided recognition. “How did you get that way?”

  “I exercised,” Tack replied quietly, averting his gaze.

  “While attending school?” Zyid asked shrewdly, raising an eyebrow.

  “I wasn’t a good student,” Tack said, which was true.

  “I hear that you are skilled in throwing knives,” Zyid said. “Where did you learn this talent?”

  “It was a hobby,” Tack murmured.

  “Do you have any other hobbies?” Zyid demanded.

  “I can fight,” Tack answered dutifully.

  “Hand to hand?” Zyid pressed.

  “And with swords and knives.” Tack was finding it difficult to conceal anything under Zyid’s gaze.

  There was a sudden silence as Zyid seemed to ponder Tack’s answers.

  “You joined the Truancy only yesterday, correct?” Zyid asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Tack replied, and the shadow in the corner shifted for the first time.

  “Why did you join?” Zyid demanded.

  “I had nowhere else to go,” Tack said quietly, which was also true.

  “Fair enough.” Zyid crossed his arms. “Are you willing to fight for the Truancy?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tack said honestly.

  “And are you willing to die for it?” Zyid asked.

  Tack hesitated for the briefest of seconds. “Yes, sir,” he answered finally, though with little conviction.

  “Good.” Zyid nodded, and the shadow in the corner seemed to budge uncomfortably. “Are you curious about the Truancy, Takan?”

  “Yes,” Tack answered truthfully; he could think of a hundred questions about the Truancy that he’d love to have answered.

  “Very well, I’ll personally give you the tour,” Zyid declared, now turning his head slightly back. “Noni.”

  The shadow in the corner got to its feet and walked forward into the light. As Noni’s face became visible, Tack noticed with some discomfort that she was glaring daggers at him with icy blue eyes. Her skin was pale, contrasting starkly with her sleek black hair that was tied back into a long braid. Her lower face from the nose down was thoroughly wrapped with a thin black scarf, which struck Tack as odd considering that the weather was quite warm. She wore a tight-fitting black T-shirt with a denim vest over it, as well as blue jeans that seemed to have been hacked off right above the knees. Her very being seemed to exude a sort of hostility towards Tack, which made him unconsciously shuffle his feet in discomfort.

  “Noni, this is Takan. Takan, this is Noni,” Zyid said, sounding slightly amused as his eyes traveled from one to the other.

  “Hi,” Tack said lamely.

  Noni said nothing, but her fierce blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tack was forcibly reminded of what Steve had told him. Too bad she doesn’t take any nonsense.

  “So, now that you’re acquainted, let’s head next door,” Zyid suggested, leading the way. “There is much you need to be shown, Takan. Feel free to ask any questions as they come to mind.”

  Noni swiftly followed Zyid out the door, and Tack hastened to keep up. The three of them marched out of the flower shop and over to the large office building that was their hideout. A number of Truants were now busying themselves by moving the crates and boxes from the parked vehicles and into the building, with each emptied vehicle quickly driving off. As they reached the glass doors, several Truants called or waved at Zyid, who waved back without looking.

  Inside, Tack found himself in an official-looking lobby with a marble floor, decorated walls, and a guard desk behind which several Truants were lounging. They quickly sprang to their feet as Zyid walked in, and Zyid gave them a curt nod as he led Tack and Noni over to a stairwell. Apparently the elevators in this hideout were also broken.

  “We’ve consolidated the bulk of the Truancy here to better coordinate attacks of a larger scale, in preparation for summer,” Zyid explained as they walked up the stairs. “We still have scattered cells around, but they’re not nearly as common as they used to be.”

  Tack was finding it much easier to think for himself now that Zyid’s dissecting gaze was off of him, and having been given approval to ask questions, he voiced the first one he could think of, convincing himself that he was only building up the courage to avenge Suzie.

  “How do you feed everyone?” Tack asked, thinking of the amount of food it would take.

  “When you gather hundreds of people together, you can be sure that there will be a wide variety of talents among them,” Zyid said. “Cooking, fortunately, is one of them. We prepare massive meals twice a day, but mostly to get food Truants must go to the inhabited parts of the City.”

  “How do they pay?” Tack asked quizzically.

  “Mostly, Takan, they eat free,” Zyid answered. “Many of the supplies we receive, in fact, are donations.”

  “Donations from who?” Tack asked, bewildered.

  “Surely, Takan, you don’t think that you can’t be a Truant while still at school?” Zyid laughed. “There are some still attending school that sympathize with us. The ones who know how to keep their mouths shut are occasionally recruited. Many of them have parents who run businesses. They don’t have to fight to help—some pass us boxes of wholesale clothing; some give us buckets of day-old bread; others even just pass a hungry Truant a free hot dog from their father’s stand.”

  “How do you recruit these people?” Tack asked with genuine curiosity.

  “Most of that goes on during the summer,” Zyid explained. “The summer is when we’re most active. The students are out of school, so we can move more freely and blend easier. We can talk to and recruit new members. Also, children tend to help their parents out during the summer more than any other time of year.”

  “So everything you get is from donations?” Tack asked disbelievingly.

  “You’re very sharp, Takan,” Zyid said, casting him an approving look as Noni scowled. “No, I personally pay for much of this.”

  “How?” Tack pressed.

  “I am very fortunate in that money is something that I do not have to worry about,” Zyid said lightly.

  Tack suddenly remembered being told the exact same thing by Umasi, and he had a feeling that he wouldn’t get much of an answer if he asked Zyid why he didn’t have to worry about money. Instead, Tack thought up another question as he glanced back and became uncomfortably aware that Noni’s eyes were drilling a hole into the back of his head.

  “Why do you spend your money on this?” Tack asked.

  “Because, Takan”— Zyid looked at Tack out of the corners of his eyes—“money is a trivial thing. How you spend it is nothing compared to how you spend your life.”

  They came to a floor where Zyid stopped and showed Tack around a room that was filled with cubicles. Sleeping bags had been rolled out in each, and Zyid explained that each Truant slept in a cubicle. Zyid quickly ran through what was on each floor, including which floors Tack could find a television on. Zyid also showed Tack where the water fountains and bathrooms could be found, and explained that most of the provided meals were now being served next door at the abandoned burger place. All the while, Noni stalked behind them agitatedly. Finally, Zyid led them back down to the lobby.

  “I hope you found that enlightening,” Zyid said to Tack as they stopped near the reception desk. “Do you have a
ny more questions?”

  Tack shook his head, having indeed exhausted every question he could think of.

  “Excellent.” Zyid rubbed his hands together. “Now, Noni, what time is it?”

  “Six forty-three,” Noni replied quietly, lifting her furious gaze off of Tack long enough to glance at her silver wristwatch.

  “We have about five hours until Alex’s group is scheduled to depart.” Zyid said. “How about I take you two to dinner?”

  “Erm…,” Tack began, unsure of how to reply.

  “Yes, sir,” Noni said quickly.

  “Good,” Zyid said approvingly. “Follow me; I know just the place.”

  * * *

  “Explain this to me again,” the Mayor said in a deadly voice. “A helicopter, five Enforcer patrols, and one armored vehicle housing an entire attack squad, all lost?”

  “By the time reinforcements got there, the vehicles were all wasted and the men dead,” a cabinet member said, gulping. It was dangerous to be the bearer of news this bad. “No Truancy bodies were found, though there’s evidence that at least a few of them were killed.”

  “How did this happen?” the Mayor asked, flicking his lighter open.

  “We don’t know, sir; it seems that they fell into some sort of an ambush,” another cabinet member offered.

  “I’m really looking forward to explaining this one to the public,” the Mayor snarled. “And you tell me that there is no sign of the allegedly huge Truancy convoy that these Enforcers were chasing?”

  “None, sir,” the same cabinet member said nervously.

  The Mayor slammed his lighter down onto the oval table, causing the cabinet members to jump in fright.

  “I want to know how the Truancy managed this,” the Mayor said, his voice now deadly calm. “And I want to know today. They’ve never fought back this hard before; always they ran whenever we found any of them.”

  “It’s probably because they’re now working in larger groups,” a third cabinet member suggested. “They’re more willing to resist.”

  “The next time they stand their ground, I want them crushed,” the Mayor growled, clenching his fist to illustrate the point. “I want a full Enforcer task force on the standby at all times, ready to go if we see anything, anything.”

  “Consider it done, sir,” a cabinet member assured, scribbling hastily onto a notepad.

  “And you know that aerial surveillance?” the Mayor asked, earning some furious nods from all around the table. “Double it. And find some pilots with brains that don’t chase after Truants armed with rockets.”

  “Pilots with brains, yes, sir,” the scribbling cabinet member said, adding a few lines onto the notepad.

  “Now get out of my sight.” The Mayor shut his lighter.

  The cabinet didn’t need to be told twice; they clamored to leave the room, one of them clutching his notepad in his mouth. The Mayor rubbed his temples and moved to his desk, where he took out a clean sheet of paper and seized a pen from a mug on his desk. As he began to write, the Mayor found, to his chagrin, that the pen ran out of ink after five words.

  “Nothing ever goes right around here.” The Mayor breathed as he reached for a pencil.

  * * *

  “Peter, it’s been a while!”

  A boy dressed in an uncomfortable-looking suit, leaning against a registration stand in one of the City’s many fancy restaurants, who had been poring over the list in his boredom, looked up suddenly, and a wide grin spread across his face.

  “Zyid!” the boy exclaimed, walking forward. “It has been a long time; what’s up? Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m all the way out here,” Zyid said amusedly. “I think you’ve met Noni before? And this here is Takan, one of our very distinguished new members.”

  “Nice to meet you!” Peter said with a grin, immediately outstretching his hand.

  Tack shook it embarrassedly. He didn’t feel very distinguished wearing his gray sweatshirt, accompanied by Noni and Zyid, both of whom hadn’t bothered to change into anything less casual before coming to this fancy restaurant, in one of the living districts, no less. The trio had already attracted a few curious looks from some of the restaurant’s adult patrons, but no intense scrutiny yet.

  “Big things went on today.” Zyid had leaned forward to whisper to Peter, his eyes darting around to spot potential eavesdroppers. “Keep an eye on the news tonight.”

  “Ah, I gotcha,” Peter said, nodding sagely, his grin never fading. “You’re here to celebrate, then?”

  “That’s correct.” Zyid returned the grin.

  “Great. Come this way; you can have one of the private rooms,” Peter assured them, ushering Zyid, Noni, and Tack over to a side hallway, around a corner, and through a set of large double doors into a lavishly decorated room that was safe from the eyes and ears of the other patrons.

  “Any preference tonight?” Peter asked as they sat down.

  “I’ll leave the menu selection in your very capable hands, Peter,” Zyid said, causing Peter to beam delightedly.

  “You won’t be disappointed,” Peter promised as he bustled out of the room.

  They weren’t. Less than twenty minutes later, Tack was feasting on crispy duck cooked with pineapples, fried rice, and sweet-and-sour pork ribs. They drank plain water. Tack had no complaints, however; the food was delicious, the crispy duck being Tack’s favorite, as the meat had a unique sort of richness that went very well with the taste of pineapple.

  The meal was eaten mostly in silence, though Tack couldn’t help but notice that after Noni loosened her scarf, she kept glaring at him over her glass of water, which bothered him more than he thought it should have. Determinedly focusing on his duck, away from Noni’s gaze, Tack was mostly successful in preventing himself from thinking about the fact that he was now eating dinner with the murderer that had killed Suzie. There were a few times that Tack gripped his fork and knife particularly hard, but they didn’t last long; the duck was really good, after all.

  After the dishes had been cleared away by Peter, Zyid folded his hands on the table and stared intently at Tack. Tack again got that uncomfortable feeling like he was on the operating table and under the knife.

  “You’re astute, strong, and skilled, Takan,” Zyid said. “That is a rare combination. I think you are, in fact, more skilled than you let on. Tell me, who taught you what you know?”

  Tack’s mind was racing. It was like Zyid knew, but he couldn’t possibly know about … and then Tack remembered Umasi saying that he had been acquainted with Zyid. What exactly was their relationship? Could Umasi have told Zyid anything about Tack? After a briefest moment of indecision, he steeled himself and decided to lie, hoping fervently that Umasi could keep secrets from other people beside him.

  “I learned from tutors,” Tack said steadily. “My parents wanted me to have extracurricular activities on my résumé, so they sent me to a variety of different training programs.”

  Tack willed his face to stay emotionless, which was something he was growing better at. Zyid looked at him for a few more moments, then spoke.

  “How confident are you in your abilities?”

  Tack frowned. It wasn’t a question he’d ever thought about before.

  “Pretty confident,” Tack said slowly. “I think I can handle any job you want me to do.”

  “Really?” Zyid mused. “That’s good, because I think I have the perfect test for you.”

  Zyid’s gaze shifted to Noni, who had clenched her fists. Tack turned to look at her, and saw for the first time a crackling eagerness glittering in her icy eyes. As Tack’s mind deduced the obvious, he felt a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the meal.

  15

  SWORDS

  “This is a ceramic sword,” Zyid announced, running his hand over the sheath. “I have one myself, and I’ve noticed that Noni has had her eyes on it for a while.”

  Tack looked at Noni out of the corner of h
is eye; she was staring down at her feet, looking embarrassed.

  “For the record, Takan, the ceramic these are made of is stronger than steel and undetectable by metal detectors because, naturally, it is not metal,” Zyid continued. “This ceramic sword is a prize. It will go to whoever can put it to better use.”

  Noni lifted her head, her icy eyes gazing covetously at the sword. Tack, for his part, didn’t want the weapon half as much as Noni obviously did, but he didn’t think that saying so would go over well with Zyid, so he kept his mouth shut.

  The three of them were standing in the center of the flower shop. Pressing up against the walls of the room were a large number of Truant spectators that Tack guessed had been invited by Zyid. Night had fallen, and so the only light in the room issued forth from the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the rest of the room, and the spectators, cloaked in shadow. Tack thought he recognized Gabriel among the milling shadows, but like the others he remained silent.

  “I have here two wooden swords,” Zyid said, pointing to a bucket at his feet. “Noni, Takan, these will be your weapons. The first person to land a killing blow wins. It’s quite simple; I assume you both understand?”

  Noni nodded and tightened the scarf around her neck. As she did, Tack noticed with a certain amount of discomfort that she looked ready not only to fight, but her eyes suggested that she was prepared to actually kill him. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what he had done to offend her. Tack, for his part, wasn’t particularly eager to duel, especially not with an assassin that had a reputation for being a cold-blooded killer. But before he could think about protesting, Zyid had turned his gaze on him again and Tack found it impossible to refuse.

  “Yeah, okay,” Tack said meekly.

  “Very good.” Zyid nodded, snatching up both swords and tossing one each to Tack and Noni. “Let’s not keep the spectators in suspense.”

  Tack had barely caught his sword when Noni lunged forward, bringing hers downwards, aiming for his head. Tack felt a jolt of surprise surge through his spine, but then, as he gripped the wooden weapon and felt the familiar feel of a wooden hilt, it was suddenly as if he weren’t in control of his body, as if it were acting on its own accord.