Scythe (Arc of a Scythe #1) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,94

here?” Xenocrates asked. “Wouldn’t you prefer to speak in a quiet room?”

“None of my rooms are quiet today,” Goddard said.

“Yes, but this is far too public a forum.”

“Nonsense, this isn’t the Forum,” said Goddard. “It’s more like Nero’s palace.”

Volta chimed in with a hearty but staged laugh. If he had to play toady, he would own the part today.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t become the Coliseum,” said Xenocrates, a little bit of bite to his words.

Goddard chuckled at the thought. “Believe me, I’d be more than happy to throw a few Tonists to the lions.”

A partygoer—one of the paid ones—did a perfect triple gainer off the diving board, the splash leaving a streak across the High Blade’s heavy robe.

“Don’t you think this ostentatious lifestyle will catch up with you?” Xenocrates asked.

“It can’t catch me if I keep moving,” Goddard said with a smirk. “I’m nearly done with this place. I’ve been looking at real estate down south.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Why so tense, Your Excellency?” said Goddard. “I invited you here because I wanted you to see firsthand what a positive thing my parties are for the Scythedom. Good public relations all around! You should be throwing grand galas at your own home.”

“You forget that I live in a log cabin.”

Goddard narrowed his eyes, not quite to a glare, but close. “Yes, a log cabin perched atop the tallest building in Fulcrum City. At least I’m not a hypocrite, Xenocrates. I don’t feign humility.”

And then the High Blade said something to Goddard that was a surprise to Volta, although in retrospect, it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. “My greatest mistake,” said Xenocrates, “was choosing you as an apprentice all those years ago.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Goddard. “I’d hate to think that you’ve yet to make your greatest mistake.” It was a threat without actually being a threat. Goddard was remarkably good at that.

“So tell me,” said Goddard, “does fortune smile on my apprentice, as it has on yours?”

Now Volta’s ears pricked up, wondering what fortune Goddard meant.

Xenocrates took a deep breath and let it out. “Fortune is smiling. The girl will cease to be an issue within a week. I’m sure of it.” Another diver splashed them. Xenocrates put up his hands to shield himself from it, but Goddard didn’t flinch in the least.

Cease to be an issue. That could mean any number of things. Volta looked around until he spotted Rowan. He seemed to be having a heated discussion with a party boy. Citra “ceasing to be an issue” would be the best thing for Rowan, as far as Volta was concerned.

“Are we done now? May I leave?”

“Just a moment,” said Goddard, and then he turned and called toward the shallow end of the pool. “Esme! Esme come here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

The look of terror that came over the High Blade’s face was chilling. This was indeed getting more interesting by the minute.

“Please, Goddard, no.”

“What’s the harm?” Goddard said.

Esme, water wings and all, came trotting along the pool’s edge to them. “Yes, Scythe Goddard?”

He beckoned to her and she sat on his lap, facing the man in gold. “Esme, do you know who this is?”

“A scythe?”

“Not just any scythe. This is Xenocrates, the High Blade of MidMerica. He’s Mr. Big.”

“Hi,” she said.

Xenocrates offered a pained nod, not meeting the girl’s eye. His discomfort at this encounter radiated like heat. Volta wondered if Goddard had a point or if he was just being cruel.

“I think we met before,” Esme said. “A very long time ago.”

Xenocrates said nothing.

“Our esteemed friend is far too uptight,” Goddard said. “He needs to join the party, don’t you agree, Esme?”

Esme shrugged. “He should just have fun like everyone else.”

“Wiser words have never been spoken,” said Goddard. Then he reached behind him out of Esme’s line of sight toward Volta and snapped his fingers.

Volta drew in a slow, silent breath. He knew what Goddard was asking of him. But Volta was reluctant. Now he regretted being a part of this at all.

“Maybe you should show your moves on the dance floor, Your Excellency,” said Goddard. “Then my guests could laugh at you, just the way you made the entire Scythedom laugh at me in conclave. Did you think I forgot about that?”

Goddard still reached back toward Volta, now wriggling his fingers impatiently, and Volta had no choice but to give him what he wanted. The young scythe reached into one of the many secret pockets of