“We are putting on a very special celebration in honor of this Bone Season, XX-40. The twentieth Bone Season.” He swept a hand toward the Rookery. “Our finest performers. A feast for the senses. A saturnalia of music and dancing to show off all our boys and girls.”

“You refer to the Bicentenary,” Warden said.

It was the first time I’d heard the word.

“Precisely.” The Overseer smiled. “The ceremony during which the Great Territorial Act will be signed.”

That didn’t sound good. Before I could hear any more, I was blinded by a vision.

As an oracle, Nick could send soundless images through the æther. He called them khrēsmoi, a Greek word. I could never pronounce it, so I just called them his “snapshots.” 12 had the same gift. I saw a clock, both hands pointing toward twelve, followed by four pillars and a flight of steps. A moment later, I blinked, and the images were gone. I opened my eyes to see him looking at me.

It had all happened in a second. “I am aware of the Act,” Warden was saying. “Get to the point, Overseer. 40 is exhausted.”

The Overseer didn’t balk at Warden’s tone. He must be used to being despised. Instead he offered me a smile, soft as oil.

“I would like to invite 40 to perform with us on the day of the Bicentenary. I was impressed with her strength and agility on the night I captured her. It gives me great pleasure to invite her to be my principal performer, along with XIX-49-1 and XIX-49-8.”

I was about to refuse, in such a way as to earn myself a severe punishment, when Warden spoke.

“As her keeper,” he said, “I forbid it.”

I looked up at him.

“She is not a performer, and unless she fails her tests before the Bicentenary, she remains in my keeping.” Warden stared directly at the Overseer. “40 is a dreamwalker. The dreamwalker you were assigned to bring to this colony. I will not allow her to be paraded in front of the Scion emissaries like a common seer. That is an assignment for your humans. Not mine.”

The Overseer wasn’t smiling now.

“Very good.” He bowed, not looking at me. “Come, 12. Your challenge awaits.”

12 slid me a look, one eyebrow raised in question. I nodded. He turned and followed the Overseer back to the Rookery, walking with an easy stride. He didn’t seem afraid of what he was about to face.

Warden’s eyes scorched on my face. “Do you know the oracle?”

“No.”

“He never took his eyes off you.”

“Forgive me, master,” I said, “but am I not permitted to speak with other humans?”

He didn’t take his eyes off me. I wondered whether the Rephs understood sarcasm.

“Yes,” he said. “You are permitted.”

He swept past me without another word.

11 Of Weeping

11

Of Weeping