Dragonfly Song (22 page)

Those three weren't anything to do with me,
Aissa thinks.

But the most important thing now is to get through her own race. She's never run with anyone else – fleeing the twins is not the same as racing. The more she thinks about it the more she worries.

She can tell that the rest of her group are thinking the same thing:
Let us go next! Let's get it over with!

They're the very last to run. They're all so tense they're ready to explode over the line before Niko has time to clap his hands. One boy actually does.

Niko roars. They don't need to understand the words to know what he's saying: ‘Get back behind the line! Wait till I clap!'

When the clap finally comes, the boy is so determined not to be wrong again that he starts a moment behind the others.

Aissa never sees him. She runs as if stones are hurtling, as if a wolf is on her heels. She feels the air in her lungs and the spring in her legs. She seems to have barely started when she sees the great gate ahead of her and realises she's leapt right over the end line. The others are just reaching it now.

Mia's striding up to her.

I didn't stop at the line! I'll be sent off!

But Mia is grinning. She pats Aissa's shoulder and sends her back to her group.

They sleep in the dorms, eat in the dining hall, and train in the arena. The days are hot, hotter than at home; they train before and after breakfast and again in the evening; the afternoon siesta is long. They learn to strap each other's wrists and ankles
for strength, and to feel comfortable wearing shorts and a close-fitting top. Life is a haze of shouted commands and pushing their bodies until they ache. When they rest their minds buzz with new words and their new life.

They learn handstands and handsprings, cartwheels, somersaults and backflips, and how to jump from a standing start. They pull themselves up on a high bar and swing around it.

It's not easy. Shoulders are dislocated; arms are broken and so are ribs; ankles are sprained. Aissa has a bruise spreading like a purple flower on her thigh. ‘From the bar?' asks Luki.

With her fingers, Aissa mimes a handspring crashing to the ground.

They'd worked out signs when no one could speak the same language. Now, even though they can understand simple commands, it's still easier to use signs in their mixed dialect groups. For the first time in her life, Aissa can communicate nearly as well as anyone else.

Not only that, she's as good as anyone else. She's small and wiry; years of hard work have made her strong, and a life of hiding has made her quick and agile. She'd turned cartwheels of relief when she joined the wise-women; now she can do them elegantly, and handsprings besides, and that is pure joy.

She points to a red welt across Luki's side. It looks as if he's been beaten, except that they never get beaten here.

‘Crashed across the bar,' Luki says ruefully. ‘I was lucky I didn't break a rib.'

But soreness only matters if it means more mistakes. Welts and bruises will heal; they're lucky to earn them. Because it's not just the injured who are sent away – anyone who doesn't learn fast enough gets pointed to the sidelines, and disappears before nightfall.

No one knows where they go. There are whispers of sacrifice. One girl decides they're sent home: the next day she jumps so badly that she disappears too.

A full moon cycle later, only fifty-nine trainees are left. They still haven't seen a bull.

But something is about to happen. Aissa's sure of it. Mia and Niko used to only note trainees who were doing something wrong – now they're discussing her perfect flip. She feels sick with fear for the rest of the day.

The next morning they're divided again. Thirteen boys and five tall girls are told to race circuits around the ring. Luki is one of them. They run for an hour at a time.

Aissa's in a group practising acrobatics. There's no bar for the next ten days, just handsprings and backflips, leaps and catches: a different routine for each group, over and over. The world whirls; she doesn't know which way is up and which way is down.

But it's nearly the solstice, the first day of summer and the longest day of the year. Aissa guesses that the new dancers are going to be part of the Bull King's celebrations.

21

THE DANCE OF SUMMER SOLSTICE

Slaves arrive at dawn to dismantle the bullring fence and stadium seats. Mia and Niko send the runners for a quick jog and watch each group of acrobats go through their routines. Once to warm up and again to perfect it, then they're sent in pairs to the bathrooms with scented oils, scrapers and combs.

Aissa's guessed right: even the Bull King celebrates the longest day. The dancers need to be clean and perfect to honour the gods.

Aissa is with Zeta, a strong, tall girl who'd been in the runners' group with Luki. They oil their bodies and scrape the dirt off with short leather straps; wash each other's hair and plait it into seven tails, exactly how Niko demonstrated.

Zeta doesn't speak till it's her turn to wash Aissa's hair, but once she starts talking she can't stop. Her eyes carry the same shock and grief as Luki's, and Aissa guesses that the story she's telling is the same,
though ‘bull' and ‘boy' are the only words she understands.

Mia comes to inspect them. She undoes one of Zeta's plaits and makes Aissa do it again, checks that their hands and short-bitten nails are scrubbed spotless, and gives them their new clothes. Shorts and tops like the ones they've been training in, but bright and new.

New clothes, that no one else has ever worn!
For a moment the thrill drowns out the fear bees in Aissa's belly.

‘Rest now!' Mia says, when she's satisfied that their blouses are crossed and tucked perfectly, the belt tight enough to hold everything together and loose enough to breathe.

Rest?
Aissa thinks. She wants to run and cartwheel, even meet the bull if she has to. The fear will only buzz stronger the longer they wait.

It's the slowest siesta she's ever known. No one sleeps.

Finally Mia and Niko call them. The acrobats and runners are separated again; Aissa presses Zeta's hand as she joins the group following Mia out of the hall that's been their home.

Panic rises in her throat like vomit.
Why are we being separated? I didn't see Luki to say goodbye!

They follow the road to the palace – another word they've learned – and through a maze of gates to a small room with a basin, where a woman waits for them. Mia stops and salutes.

The Lady!
Aissa thinks. The woman has a round, pregnant belly, and is beautifully dressed in a flowing
red robe embroidered with birds and flowers. She is holding a jug painted with the sign of the sacred double axe.

‘Hold out your hands!' Mia orders, and as each acrobat offers their outstretched hands, the priestess pours water over them, murmuring words none of them know but all understand. They are being cleansed to meet the gods.

The fear in Aissa's belly settles from bumblebee buzzing into a solemn, heavy mass.

Mia leads them through a hallway to a last gate. On the other side is a courtyard, its flat paving stones covered with a layer of sand. The fences and tiered seats from their training arena have been raised around it, in front of the great red pillars and open corridors of the palace.

So the bull can't get into the rooms!
Aissa guesses, and shudders. Suddenly the bull is more real than it's ever been – though she still hasn't seen one.

The palace rises above the barricades; people are crowded at windows, on roofs, and in red-painted balcony boxes. A musician is playing a lyre, though it's hard to hear him over the rumble of the crowd; he stands in front of a pair of tall stone horns, looking up at the biggest balcony box.

The Bull King is in the balcony.

His head is a bull, and his body is a man's. Aissa's skin crawls as if she's covered with spiders; her plaits feel as if they're standing on end. The king is more terrifying than her worst nightmare. She can't look
away; can't see anything else. It's a long moment before she even notices the woman beside him.

If the priestess who washed their hands was the Lady, this is the Lady of Ladies, the Mother of all – although beside the monstrous king, she looks small and human. Her skirt is layered with red and green flounces, belling out wide from her tight gold belt. More gold glints from necklaces, bracelets and the tiara around her piled-high hair.

Niko opens the gate. ‘Go!' he says. ‘What are you afraid of? There's no bull for you today.'