queasiness intensified.
Rollo nuzzled at the girl’s neck, ignoring Retra until the kar arrived at another dimly lit, already crowded platform.
Everyone tried to leave at once. Retra stumbled, knocking her knee against a pole as she stepped down. She straightened, catching a glimpse of Markes again – then he was gone.
Rollo appeared beside her and grabbed her hand. ‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’ he asked.
She scowled at him. ‘Why were you doing that with a stranger?’
‘Not a stranger, her name is Keltha and she kisses like a devil.’ He poked out his tongue and rolled it around obscenely.
Retra pulled her hand from his. His baiting and his crudeness stung.
Seeing her reaction, his expression grew serious for a moment. ‘Get over it, Retra. You have to fit in here. It’s the only way.’
She stared at him, not quite sure what he meant. Then the crowds began to surge forward down the stairs and into a vast, lit empty space.
Retra clung to the gates at the top, looking down at the huge stone columns on one side which seemed to be carved out of the mountain. On the far side, ornate ironwork rails marked the edge of a steep, dark precipice. Between the railing and the columns, in the centre of the field, fire jets spurted into the sky, spreading jagged light across a burgundy velvet-cloaked stage.
Rollo tugged at her again. ‘Come on, we won’t be able to hear if we stay here.’
She followed him down the steps, her irritation with him banished by wonder. She’d never seen so many people in one place.
Rollo forced a path for them, determinedly elbowing his way between the excited crush of bodies to the front. Retra saw six figures standing at different points of the stage, all motionless in the flickering light of the fire spouts.
‘Silence.’ A single word, issued from the person at the centre. It echoed more than it should have, sibilant and eerie, quieting the crowd. It caught in her mind.
‘I am Lenoir, leader of the Guardians. This may be the only time we will meet, so listen well. What you fail to hear becomes your lot to bear.’
He waited then, letting his words impact.
Retra stood as still as him, transfixed by his manner and look; the lustre of the black hair that framed his pale, flawless face. He was beautiful in a way Retra had never seen before.
Unholy.
A Seal mantra moved her lips but she clamped them together. Now was not the time for her Grave ways. She must listen and learn or … God. Another unbidden thought. He is like God.
But what did she know of God? What did she know of men?
And yet the drift of his long hair and his worldly sneer made her stomach clench with unwanted emotion.
‘I – we …’ he gestured dramatically, left and right, ‘own you now. This is our place.’
The silence became taut as if the crowd breathed in accord.
Lenoir laughed, feeling it. Though many could not see him as well as she could, he mesmerised them with his voice alone.
‘Fear not. All we want … is for you to pleasure yourselves,’ he said.
A cheer went up, discharging the tension.
He waved his hands once more for quiet. ‘In Ixion music and party are our only beliefs. Darkness is our comfort. We have few rules but they are absolute. Your endocrine systems have been altered by changes to your hypothalamus. You no longer need to sleep or see sunlight.’
More titters and cheers. A little frayed and scared, Retra thought.
‘Still, you will need to rest for a short period every twelve-cycle; how long will vary for each of you. When that time is upon you, the badge you have had administered at the Register will glow. We call this rest petite nuit – little night.’ He laughed. ‘Your body needs to rest and yet your mind will remain conscious. That is the time for you to be in your beds, little ones. If you ignore this, it is at your own risk.’
Catcalls and whistles followed this.
Retra watched a smile catch and linger on his lips as if he enjoyed an amusing secret.
A young woman moved from one side of the stage to join him. Her naked scalp glowed in the amber light, yet she was not quite bald; dark hair sprang from the edge of her skull like a collar of spikes. In profile her nose was perfectly straight, her lips thin. She wore hard leather on her arms and legs, and a shaped tunic.
Retra’s