“The Chancellor,” Bri continues. “He doesn’t want to be called by name because that’s too personal. He founded this place and essentially owns Ghizon. He united the islands’ native tribes and shared his magic with all of them, and he gives it to all of us, too, so, hello Binding!” She leans in for a whisper. “No one knows where he got it from, but rumor has it he laid with a goddess who desperately wanted a son and he wagered she’d give him magic in exchange. Only thing is, she didn’t conceive so he had to get away by the skin of his teeth with magic. Apparently there’s a veil of protection over the island so she can never find us.”
She squints up at the sky as if she really believes this shit. “But who knows? There’s no shortage of rumors around here. Usually they have a seed of truth, I always say. I digress. But yes…” She does that thing with her fingers and lays them over her heart. “The Great and Generous Chancellor. Seyeen.”
Now I want to know what she’s smoking.
“You have a lot to learn about this place. Sounds like your da—”
“Aasim,” I say, interrupting. She gotta stop with that father shit.
She studies my face for several moments. “Your… Aasim didn’t tell you much about this place.”
I gave him all of forty-five seconds to talk to me before my AirPods were in. “Very little.”
“Well, not to worry. I’ll get you up to speed.” She nudges me with her elbow and I force a smile. I should try to be more friendly. She really is nice.
“Th-thanks.” And I mean, having someone to actually ask questions probably is a good idea.
The commotion behind us has stopped and it’s Bri’s turn for Sorting on the platform. But Stick Lady joins us on the far end of the stage and her watery eyes burn into me like frost.
“Hmph.” She points toward BINDING before huffing and storming off. I guess Bri was right: I do get to be Bound. Bri holds two fingers to her lips like she’s blowing a blunt and winks. I laugh.
“Meet you on the other side,” she says.
“Bet.”
* * *
The other side is off the platform, thankfully, in a nearby building. The Binding building. No more crowds, no more stares. Just white walls, sterile like a hospital with a giant floor-to-ceiling picture of the Chancellor. His white eyebrows are slicked down, shiny, and his thinning white hair looks much fuller. His skin is still overly pinkish like he spends too much time in the sun or he’s really embarrassed permanently. Or both.
Aside from the portrait, the walls are bare. Thin, long benches line the hallway and lockers are on the opposing side. Two swinging metal doors have STAY OUT written in bold blue letters. A pencil-thin woman with a literal nest of violet hair on her head scans a card on some sort of pad near the door and pushes through. Before her, Redheaded Girl went inside, and I could swear seconds later I heard screaming under the elevatorish music they have playing. Maybe I’m hearing things.
I pound my head back on the wall. The rattling in my brain is calming in a way. What is Tasha doing? Where did that CPS lady even take her? Darkness wraps around me and I see my sister’s face on the back of my eyelids. She’s smiling, then crying. Her mouth widens and her nose thins. Her eyes stretch a little as her features morph into Moms’s. I roll my purple frayed necklace between my fingers.
I catch sight of Bri strolling up, fidgeting with some metal gadget I can’t quite make out. But the way she’s biting her tongue, it seems dire.
“You survive?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, Zruki for sure. My build, my genes, it’s mine work for me. Plus, my parents are Zruki and it usually follows genealogy.”
“So what do non-mine-working-Zrukis do?”
“Those… would be…” She grunts, pushing one end of the metal into the other. “Ugh! Sorry, my PRI Modifier is out of whack. They’re Dwegini.” She shoves the metal thing in her pocket and I catch a half glance at it. It’s squarish with red buttons and a blue light on top. But one end is dangling and I don’t think it is supposed to be.
“Dwegini?”
“The others. They’re not built for mine work. They do administrative stuff, they’re entertainers, armed guards, they do medical stuff, research. Lots of magic theory research. Chancellor’s really into that. He keeps his supple-bodied folks working in the mines. That’s where the onyx comes from, for binding. My parents are both mine workers. Dad’s working on a side job to get us a bit more rations, and maybe even move to a larger unit. I think you call it a house? But my dad’s efforts haven’t really gone anywhere. I don’t mind sharing a room with my parents, and my brothers are so little, they don’t seem to care.”
One bedroom? For all five (maybe more) of them?
“And the floor really does feel good to my back… after a while. Plus, it’s free. Can’t complain too much.”
The floor? Now, that I didn’t expect. “I don’t understand. People seemed relieved to be Zrukis. But you laid up in government-sanctioned housing?”
“I mean, Zrukis may sound like the lower ranking in the hierarchy work-wise because its manual labor, but it’s an honorable trade, Rue.” She stands up straighter. “It’s critical to the function of Ghizon. Sure, it’s charmed dresses and artsy makeup, but it’s also rapid cell regeneration, cloaking, which has all kinds of uses, growth serums. I mean… this magic the Chancellor unearthed is brilliant.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
“All our protections here, the weapons Patrol use… all magic.”
“Protection?”
“Yep.”
I sit up taller. “Tell me more.”
“Oh man, there’s so much. And our magic only grows more functional as we continue to study it,” she explains, her eyes lit up. “Onyx is everything here. Can’t Bind people without onyx. And we do that. Zrukis. We’re kind of a big deal.” She bats another flyaway hair. “And at least we get Bound. There’s one more word in that old woman’s vocabulary.” She shudders. “Macazi. That means you’re casteless, not worthy of either and not fit to bear magic at all. They don’t even get units. It’s community housing for them, until they die off or who knows what. Rumor is they use them for”—she whispers—“trials… like for research. Zruki is not at all a bad gig.”
The way she’s looking at me, I think I’m supposed to marvel at her designation. And because I want to try to be a decent friend to this chick, I do. “Oh wow, my bad. Well, congrats.”
“Thanks. Our units are decent, too. Being only one room means less time cleaning, and it’s easier to heat and cool with Memi’s magic. The floor isn’t as bad as it sounds.”
“No, y-yeah. I didn’t mean anything by that.” I’m just surprised that in a world with magic, people would live like they broke. Why does the Chancellor need a grip on things like that? Why not let people live freely, earning their way? What does he gain by giving them magic but controlling how they use it, where they work, their quality of living, making them work their way up the chain in their free time, on the slim chance they can find free time? I seen that before and that… that ain’t admirable.