I TRAIL AFTER PUNA AND the other quartet members into the Ydayas’ grand apartment. I glance around surreptitiously, looking for something, anything, I can use to try to find Dámiul. A computer, maybe, or some kind of communicator. I haven’t heard from him or sensed his presence in the four days since I arrived at the Ydayas’ place. Sending out psychic signals must not be enough.
There was also nothing in the Ka’risil quarters I could use to contact him. Our computers can only be used to communicate with each other or Puna, and the only information I can access is a limited music library that Puna maintains. Despite her emphatic thought commands reminding me that I’m a willing employee, I’m beginning to feel like a captive or a slave. Though the Ydayas treat us well enough, we’re kept in a locked area and forced to follow their commands. I don’t know any other word for this but slavery. If that’s what this is, I guess I unwittingly sold myself.
Puna leads us to a small, black stage that’s been set up at the back of the Ydayas’ main hall. “The rest of you already know this, but for the sake of our new member”—she gives me a slight smile—“I’ll explain how this works. You will perform here, and your sound will carry throughout the apartment. The Ydayas may or may not watch you, but whichever room they’re in, they will hear you, so play as though this were an auditorium, and they’re sitting in the front row. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
“Good. This will be your regular routine, though there will be more public performances in the future. Not only are the Ydayas frequent hosts, but they also co-sponsor galas with other patrons or loan out the quartet for charity events. But for now, your only concern is to perform for them privately.”
I walk up a short set of stairs onto the stage. Cara places her case on a black shelf at the back. Assuming I’m supposed to do the same, I place my case next to hers and open it. She glances at me slantwise but doesn’t say anything.
I take out my instrument and make my way over to my stand. The screen before me displays the first song in the set we’ll be playing. The other three players seem to be in lockstep when it comes to our pieces, and I hope I don’t accidentally render my part jarring.
As I begin tuning my viola, Puna brings up a holographic document on her watch-like device. She knits her eyebrows as she reads it. Curious, I try to make out the myriad of symbols, clustered in what I imagine are words. I recognize one that Dámiul showed me once: the symbols for Adryil.
Knowing I’ll need to understand more of the alien language than that if I’m to find him, I try to make out some of the other words. Except for the little Dámiul taught me, the only places I’ve seen Adryil writing has been on building signs on my way to the Ydayas and on Puna’s device.
One cluster of symbols looks familiar. I think it’s Karovye, which means Earth. I move my lips to the syllables, trying to figure out which symbol represents what.
“What did you say?” Puna gives me a sharp look.
“N-Nothing.” Did I accidently mispronounce the word as something offensive?
Whatever I’m doing, I should stop. There’s no need for me to learn to read Adryil…
That’s Puna. Clearing my head is a familiar routine by now. I picture myself playing simple, ascending scales, mundane and peaceful. A few seconds later, she retreats.
The others start warming up, and I run through the scales I was just thinking of, fingers joining my mind.
But I can’t concentrate on them any longer. Every time I start questioning, Puna invades my head. The other three seem perfectly content—that’s what she’s trying to make me. She wants me to accept the way things are, but I can’t ignore the idea that people are having their memories erased.
One of my bow hairs snaps. I stop playing and go over to my case, aiming to yank the stray hair out and put it away, then throw it out later. Cara stops her warm-ups and walks with me. She catches my eye, and I wonder what she’s up to. As I put my viola down, she grabs a cake of rosin from her case.
“Hey, Iris,” she says. “I think we should meet one-on-one to go over that section in the new piece. You know, the part where the middle voices get the melody.”
I don’t understand. The passage she’s referring to is incredibly basic. Maybe she wants to make sure our pacing is precise? “Sure.”
“Why don’t you come over to my room after we’re done tonight, and we can at least go over it once or twice before curfew?”
“I’d be happy to.” That’s the most words she’s spoken to me the entire time I’ve been here.
“Places, everyone!” Puna’s voice reverberates through the large hall.
The warm-up noises die down, and Cara and I return to our spots. Andreas eyes each one of us to check that we’re ready, then inhales and lifts his violin to cue the upbeat. I come in on the downbeat along with him and Cara. A measure later, Temir joins us with the bass line.
The song rolls along gracefully, rippling like a brook over stones. My placid tenor notes blend smoothly with the other strings, and I let the music wrap its soft harmonies around me. In this moment, it’s the only thing that matters.
I press my hand against the pad by Cara’s door, somewhat apprehensive. The door opens, and I walk in, viola case in hand.
Cara rummages in her closet. “You can put that down wherever.” She doesn’t look up as the door closes behind me.
I set my case on the floor. “So… How are you?”
“Marvelous.” Her voice is deadpan. She turns, fixing her sharp green gaze on me. “We’re not actually rehearsing, by the way. That was just an excuse to get you here.”
“Oh?” My voice rises involuntarily, and my nervousness swells.
Cara tilts her head. “You scared of me or something?”
Figuring there’s no sense in hiding what must be obvious, I shrug. “A little.”
Cara pulls her lips in, turning her full mouth into a thin line. “Be straight with me. Were you trying to read Adryil earlier?”
I nod instinctively, too nervous to come up with a lie or excuse. Why is she asking me?
“You looked like you knew a word or two. Puna didn’t seem too happy. Did she tell you to forget about it?”
I nod again. “She’s told me to forget a lot of things.”
“But you haven’t.” Cara narrows her eyes. “Your little innocent act may fool her, but I can tell you’ve got questions on your mind. Playing clueless works well for you, doesn’t it? No one suspects the quiet girl.”
The nervousness tightens its grip on me. “What’s this all about?”
Cara goes back to the closet, then emerges, holding a black tablet. “You want to learn Adryil? Here’s your chance.” She hands me the machine. “Whatever you do, don’t let Puna find it. If she does, I’ll deny I knew anything about it.”
I examine the flat device. A small button protrudes from one end. I press it, and the screen lights up, displaying a list of English words with their Adryil equivalents. I tap one of the icons at the bottom to see what it does. It whisks me to a home screen, with options to read Adryil phrases or practice pronunciation. This tablet reminds me of the foreign language guides the Opera used to learn Italian, German, or whatever tongue their songs were in.
This is it—the answer I’ve been looking for. If I knew what their symbols meant, surely I could find some way to get a communicator and contact Dámiul.
I start to thank Cara, but the words freeze in my throat as I recall how Estelle feigned friendliness, then sabotaged me.
Cara crosses her arms. “What’s the matter?”
“I…” I try to find some way to phrase my question without sounding like I’m accusing her of something. “Why are you giving this to me?”
She twists her mouth. “Look, I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I just don’t like how the Adryil keep us ignorant. You’re the only Earthling I’ve run into here that doesn’t seem brainwashed yet, and I’d like to keep it that way. In case you haven’t noticed, the Adryil are allowed to use their telepathy on the Ka’risil.” Sarcasm rings from her voice. “I hope I’m right about you. If I’m wrong, then I guess Puna will come knocking on my door soon enough.”
“You can block them too?” I regard Cara in a new light. The blankness that seems to be her default expression must be an act, just like I pretend to be calm when I have a million questions demanding to be asked.
“I sure can.” Cara smirks. “The hardest part is playing along, isn’t it? I’ve been here for almost a year, and sometimes, I feel like I just can’t keep it in. If that feeling ever comes over you, keep your mouth shut. We’re not supposed to realize what’s happening.”
I shake my head. “Why would they do this to us? How is it allowed?”
“It’s all part of the devil’s bargain you make when you sign your contract. We’re the only things from Earth the Adryil want, and they want absolute obedience from us, so our wonderful government gave them a loophole. Our patrons can do whatever they want to us, and do you know what they do to noncompliant Ka’risil? They erase your mind.” She shifts her gaze. “I’ve seen it happen once, and that was more than enough. When they get serious, no amount of willpower can save your memories.”
I bite my lip, knowing full well how true that last part is. I’ve tried several times to recall the Papilio alum I was hoping to locate. All I find is white noise in my head. If I’m not careful, Puna could send the rest of my memories sliding into that abyss. One mistake could cost me everything I know, everything I am. I knew it in my gut, but Cara’s confirmation makes the danger more immediate. If they took my memories—what would I be? If I didn’t know where I came from, or what I believed, or who mattered to me… I’d be a husk of my present self. A body with little more than breath, blood, and bones inside.
Cara brings her attention back to me. “Hey, I’m sorry I was kind of cold to you before. It was nothing personal. And neither is this.” She nods at the tablet. “It’s about something bigger than you and me.” She looks me in the eye. “You can trust me.”
I’m still not sure about that, but in any case, I need the tablet. “Thank you.” I glance at the thin machine. “Where did you get this?”
“Someone passed it to me, like I’m passing it to you.”
If she has forbidden technology, she must know more than she’s letting on. My mind flashes to that sign—the one with a man who looked like he could be Dámiul’s father. “Does the last name Verik mean anything to you?”
Cara’s eyes widen. “What do you know about the Veriks?”
Her response tells me that Dámiul’s family must be significant somehow. “I… saw a sign on my way here. It showed Master Verik alongside several Ka’risil. I was wondering what it meant.” Until I know I can trust her, I’ll keep the truth about Dámiul to myself.
Cara brings her hand to her chin, thinking. “Let’s just say that Master Verik is pretty much in charge of Papilio, Sinfonia, and most of the other schools like them.”
The man in the sign must have been Dámiul’s father, then. Cara’s lack of surprise or denial about what I saw means she must know about it too—and know for certain that it’s Master Verik who’s pictured. But what did she mean when she said he was in charge of the schools? I was always told that they were Earthling institutions. I voice these thoughts, hoping Cara might reveal the truth, but she interrupts before I can finish.
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Cara crosses her arms. “Those questions could get you erased, and for both our sakes, I won’t be answering them tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like losing my memories for someone I barely know.”
A mixture of disappointment and frustration churns in my gut. She has a point; she has as much reason to distrust me as I do her. But I’m getting closer. She knows what’s going on—I’m sure of it. If Dámiul can’t tell me, perhaps Cara will.
A buzz sounds from the monitor on Cara’s desk, indicating that we have five minutes until curfew. Cara makes a face. “You’d better get back to your room. You know what to tell Puna if she asks what we were doing, right?”
“Of course.” I blink innocently. “We were just rehearsing the second movement of ‘Creator’s Folly.’”
Cara barks out a laugh. “Oh, I wish looked as harmless as you. That’s why Puna lets up so quickly with you, isn’t it? I must have a villainous face, because she always thinks I’m up to something.” She jerks her head at the tablet. “Hide that in your case.”
I open my case and place the tablet over the fingerboard of my viola. Having the device scrape against the instrument makes me uncomfortable, but it’s the only way to transport it unseen.
After saying goodbye to Cara, I head back to my room. Puna stands in the courtyard, eyeing the Ka’risil quarters. She watches me.
Just look innocent. In case she tries to read my mind, I mentally run through my part in “Creator’s Folly.”
“Zeth onayil Iris.” My name is Iris. “Ona Papilioyil dira.” I am a Papilian. “Ona at’strat illátet fac.” I play viola.
I move my lips to the Adryil syllables, barely whispering each. The courtyard lights went out hours ago, and the window above my desk is almost completely black. I only meant to peek at the Adryil language tablet before going to sleep, but couldn’t resist reading more.
I yawn widely, stretching my arms over my head. Cramming dozens of alien words into my brain has taken its toll. I’ll probably forget half of them by tomorrow. In any case, my alarm will wake me in less than six hours, so I should sleep while I can.
I get up from my chair, wondering where to hide the tablet, but a flash of blue light catches my eye. Puzzled, I look out the dark window. The light bobs toward the courtyard’s wall, and I make out the vague outline of someone beside it. Long hair, medium height—Is that Cara?
The person presses something on the wall, and the light briefly flashes across her face. It is Cara. What’s she doing?
A sliver of yellowish light appears in the courtyard—the door in the wall opened slightly. Cara slips out, and the door slides shut. But both the doors to our dorms and the doors leading out of the courtyard are locked. How did she get out? Where is she going?
First the illicit language tablet, then the mysterious hint, now sneaking off—she must be involved in something secret.
And until I find Dámiul, she’s my key to finding the truth.