Fadeout

Chapter 9: Silas

The first place the guards took him was the shower room in the boys ward. They waited while Silas cleaned up and put on fresh clothes. He didn’t think this was normal procedure for the Machine, but he was covered in mud and supposed that they didn’t want to get the table dirty. He tried to make every moment last longer, but before he knew it he was clean, dressed and walking away from the boys ward.

They walked through the corridor that led out of the Carillian ward to the building where the Machine was kept, but instead of turning toward the Machine they turned right and climbed up four flights. When they entered the hall of the fourth floor, Silas could hardly believe his eyes or his feet. The ceilings were high and had splashes of bright colors flung on them. They seemed like they would reflect the sun in a way to make the whole hallway flood with light, if the sun was out and it wasn’t raining again. And the carpet was so soft and thick that Silas was certain his feet sank an inch. It was no wonder they made him take a shower first.

Tymas stopped in front of a large walnut door and knocked three times.

The door opened and the Tirean boy gave a quick, polite smile before he said, “Thank you, Tymas. I can take him from here.”

The grip on Silas’ arm didn’t change.

“I don’t think you should be left alone with—” Tymas started to say.

“I can take care of myself and we’re not going to be leaving the room, so if you absolutely must stay on the floor, you may do so in the hall.”

Tymas growled, but when the boy took Silas’ hand and pulled him toward the door, Tymas let go. The boy gave Tymas another smile as he shut the door, a bit forcefully to Silas’ ears.

“My name is Jamar Pelacroix,” the boy said. “My father owns the Cartiam. You are here to keep me company. I often get bored on my father’s business trips, so it is your job to keep that from happening while I am here.”

Jamar tilted his head and appraised Silas. “You’re taller than you looked. But you’re also thinner, so that should still work. Now, do I call you 800190, or do you have a name?”

“My name is Silas Durant.”

“Silas.” Jamar scrunched his eyes as he looked at Silas. “I guess that will do. You may call me Jamar.”

“Thank you,” Silas wasn’t sure what to say and this was all that came to mind.

Jamar smiled. “Good, that’s over. Now, I suggest we play a highly competitive game. Fighting each other mentally will be the best way for us to get to know each other. Plus it’s a great way to pass the time and since it’s raining we can’t go outside.”

“You were going to take me outside?” Silas asked.

“Yes, it is easier to practice sword fighting in a large open space.” Although Jamar tone inched toward scoffing at Silas’ ignorance, Silas didn’t care.

“You want me to learn how to sword fight so you can practice?”

“Well, I can’t fight a dummy. That’s not a good way to increase my skills. Have you ever held a sword?”

Silas shook his head.

Jamar rolled his eyes. “Follow me.”

They wound their way around a large, plush bed to a wooden closet near a full bookshelf that covered a whole wall. Jamar swung the closet door open revealing weapons of all sizes and shapes. He leaned in and pulled a small, unadorned sword out from its place near the bottom of the closet.

“Hold this,” Jamar said passing the sword back to Silas.

Carefully, as if afraid that he would cut himself, Silas took the sword’s hilt and wrapped his fingers around it. The metal was cool to the touch. Silas took several steps back and swung the sword back and forth to see how it moved through the air. He hoped he wouldn’t be punished for this, but since Jamar was the owner’s son, he figured he was probably okay.