hope you two will fix your friendship soon, but Lai is stubborn. It might take time.”
I don’t know how to answer. I don’t even know this guy, and he’s vouching for my friendship—or what remains of it—with Lai. He talks about it so easily. Like Lai wasn’t keeping a million secrets from me. Like she didn’t betray my trust a thousand times over. Like I didn’t cause the death of her friend.
I don’t know what he wants me to say.
Clemente shakes his head. “But this is not the reason I wanted to talk with you.”
“You wanted to talk with me?” Now my confusion gives way to curiosity. What could he possibly want with me of all people?
“Yes,” Clemente says. “Lai has said you are maybe the strongest fighter in Central. So I wanted to ask—would you help the Order with its training?”
Pushing aside my sudden happiness at the fact that Lai, a hell of a fighter herself, said I might be the strongest in Central, I say, “Wait, what?”
Clemente gestures with one hand to the training room behind us. “You can see, can you not? We have started teaching our members to fight recently, but we are weak. Undisciplined. Inexperienced. Those of us who know how to fight are busy running the Order. We cannot take the time to train other members.” Now he gestures to me. “But you? You are skilled. You know how to win. If you are willing, would you help us?”
“What does the Order even need trained fighters for? Aren’t you guys a peace group?”
“Ah,” Clemente says softly. “That we are. But if we wish for peace, we may need to join the war. If the military cannot defeat the rebels, maybe we can help. But only if we have capable fighters.”
The idea of it is absurd. Me, teaching a bunch of strangers how to fight? From the basics, no less. It sounds like a pain.
But when I think of the sorry excuse for fighters I saw just a few minutes ago, I get what Clemente’s saying. If the Order does plan on joining this war, they’re not going to survive like that. They might as well be dead already unless someone who knows what they’re doing helps them. And as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me was weirdly happy training those guys. Satisfied in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’ve spent the last week on the run and stuck in a dead-end chase to find info that’s already long gone. I’ve been lied to, stabbed in the back, and told to just wait around and not get in the way.
A spark ignites in my chest as the idea of training these wannabe fighters grows on me. I could actually be doing something and helping people—and not because Lai told me to. By my own choice.
I meet Clemente’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”
* * *
Clemente fills me in on the details of how the training works now, I offer my suggestions for changes, and we agree to meet up tomorrow and start with everyone. He offers to show me the way to my room, but I’m not ready to go back yet, and the thought of being there when Lai returns is irritating, so I turn him down and keep wandering around.
After probably an hour of walking, I think I’m actually kind of starting to get the hang of this place. Things aren’t really as random as they seem, and when I run my hands over the walls, I feel symbols and arrows etched into them. They must be some kind of coded directions. I can’t figure out the symbols’ exact meanings, but I’m able to remember them and follow them to their destinations. Three swirls, a triangle, and a square lead to some kind of market. Two circles, two squares, and a triangle to an infirmary. A square, two swirls, and a circle take me to a big room with a bunch of tables.
It’s like a puzzle. I’m sure Jay’ll have a field day figuring this place out, but I get bored of it quickly. What I want isn’t to memorize my way around this place. I want to do something. I want to get out there and show the rebels and the Council and everyone else what’s what. I want to stop being on the run. I want to find my brother and kill him for sure this time.
I stop at what looks like a dead end