The Blue Tower

Chapter 3

THE GIRL STANDS in the middle of my room, hands folded innocently in front of her. She looks about twelve years old. She's wearing a plain gray-blue robe like mine.

"Hi."

I climb down from the window and stand in front of her, straightening my robe. Her straight black hair and porcelain skin carry a stoic dignity. Her eyes are narrow and dark as night, with flecks of gold like stars. We're about the same height.

Past her, the door is closed. "I didn't hear you come in."

"It's the wind. Very loud this high up." She bows gracefully. "I'm Kiyo. What's your name?"

"I...don't know."

"What would you like to call yourself?" Her voice is small, a whisper compared to the roaring wind outside the tower.

It's an overwhelming question. I have no name. I need a name. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my robe, thinking. Many words come to me, and somehow I understand how my mind works, neurons firing in my cortex, but this means nothing without memories.

As the moments pass, Kiyo waits. She remains perfectly still and silent. Her expression is impossible to decipher.

Then it hits me.

"Cipher," I say, testing the word. It fits, like a secret code to others, allowing them to unlock my attention. "You can call me Cipher."

"Nice to meet you, Cipher." She moves to the table, where a tray now sits beside the paper and ink jar. She lifts the cover off the tray, revealing a plate of steaming food. "Dinner's usually the same," she says. "Seaweed salad. Fish soup."

"Why?"

"I guess because that's what we have, being by the ocean. You get used to it. Helps you sleep."

"Who's we?"

"Us. Me. The leaders of the Blue Tower."

"That guy who looks like a wizard?"

She grins, sending a ripple of warmth into the cold and barren room. "His name's Abram. The other leader is Sarai."

"How long have you been here?"

"Many Scourings." Her gaze drops to her feet.

I shake my head, confused. "What's a Scouring?"

"It's like a battle between the towers. There are five of them. We use the Scourings to measure time."

"Oh." Now the revelations come too quickly. I don't know where to start with my questions. The room is quiet as we stare at each other, the two of us in this giant tower that apparently fights against other towers and feeds us seaweed. "Do you remember anything before you showed up here?"

She blinks at my question. Her eyes take on an eery blankness. "Only a little. I've been to the Sieve..." Her last word comes out as a whisper.

"The Sieve?"

She backs toward the door. "You should eat, then sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day, your first class."

"What's the Sieve?" I step forward, not wanting her to leave.

She bows slightly. "I will see you tomorrow, Cipher."

"No, wait..."

The words are hardly out of my lips before she quickly opens the door and slips through.

I rush to the door, grabbing for it, but my hand pulls back at the last moment, instinct not letting me stick fingers into the inch-wide gap before it slams shut. The solid slab of wood does not budge when I shove it. I bang my fist on the door and shout for Kiyo.

There is no answer. The wind howls outside the window.

How did she open the door? It must be possible.

Trying not to panic again, I sit down at the table and stare at the food. Abram said Kiyo would come, and she did. Kiyo said there would be tomorrow, so maybe there will be.

The smell of the food convinces me to try a bite. The fish soup tastes good. The seaweed not so much. But I devour all of it, then slide the tray away.

The paper still sits on the table. The blob of ink with the three circles I drew around it looks up at me. My fingers rub along the feather's soft edge, then pull it from the jar. I write down seven words:

Cipher

Kiyo

Abram

Scouring

Sieve

Blue Tower

It's a start. I hold the quill ready above the paper, hoping some deep-down memory will come to me. My eyes close. What happened before I was treading water at the base of the tower? I know that people are born as babies to mothers. They don't suddenly appear in lakes. But I can't remember my mother, my father, or anything else. I put the feather back in the jar and move away from the desk.

The bed looks inviting. My head rests on the soft white fabric. My eyelids are heavy. As the sound of the ocean lulls me to sleep, the words Scouring and Sieve tumble over and over in my mind like grains of sand in the waves.