think I’m going to tell you my
real
name, do you?” “Keltan” countered. “Besides, it’s a beautiful horse. The only good thing
about
the Autarch is that horse.”
Mara gasped. She’d never heard
anyone
criticize the Autarch before.
But I suppose if you’re already risking your life . . .
“Why wouldn’t you take your Mask?” she said. “Why would you run away? You’ll be a fugitive the rest of your life if you—”
“Because,” the boy said. “The Mask changes you.”
Mara, hearing her own fears coming from someone else’s lips, fell silent.
“Oh, they
tell
you it doesn’t. They say it only shows what’s inside you, that it’s for public safety, so the Watchers know who’s a threat, blah blah blah. ‘You’ll be the same person afterward,’ they tell you. But it’s not true!” The exclamation came out like a curse. “My best friend was Masked two months ago.
And he’s not my friend anymore.
”
Like Sala
, Mara thought, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the dank cellar. “He’ll be a full apprentice now,” she said, echoing her mother’s words. “More responsibility. He’s an adult. That’s all—”
“That’s
not
all,” Keltan snarled. “He’s not acting like an
adult
. He’s acting like
a completely different person
. He acts like we never did all the things we did. Like he doesn’t remember all the fun we had. All the secrets we shared. He . . .” He stopped. “He told me to go away and quit bothering him. He said he didn’t want to see me again. That was the day before I was supposed to be Masked.”
“And that was enough to make you run away?” Mara said. “To risk your
life
?”
“There are other reasons,” Keltan said. “But they’re none of your business.” Suddenly he was right beside her. His hand found her wrist in the dark and squeezed it so hard she gasped in pain. “My knife is right here,” he said. “Now tell me why you’re
really
here, ‘Mara.’ If that’s your real name. And don’t . . .” He jerked her arm, hard. “. . . lie.”
“I told you the truth!” Mara squeaked. “I just came out for fun. We used to do it all the time—”
“We?” Keltan jerked her arm again.
“My friend Sala and me!”
“And where is
she
?”
Gone
, Mara thought, remembering how Sala had cut her dead in the market that morning.
Like your friend
. “Masked,” she said out loud. “Masked.”
Keltan let go of her as suddenly as he had grabbed her. She rubbed her sore wrist. “Then you
know
. They’re lying to us. The Masked ones. The grown-ups. The Maskmakers—”
“No,” Mara said. “My father—” She bit off her defense before it fully emerged, but not soon enough. Suddenly Keltan had her wrist again.
“What about him?”
“Nothing!”
He squeezed so hard she couldn’t stifle another gasp. “
What about him?
”
“He’s a Maskmaker,” she yelped. “I’m going to be his apprentice.”
His hand loosened on her arm. “You’ve got the Gift?”
“Yes! And I
know
the Masks don’t change you. My father told me so.”
“And you believe him?”
“He’s my father!”
Keltan snorted. “All the more reason not to trust him. He
wants
you to change. He wants you to be a good little drone in the Autarch’s hive like him, like all the rest of them.
Especially
if you have the Gift. You
have
to be obedient, and the Mask will make sure you are.”
“But my father is making my Mask himself.”
“So? Doesn’t he wear a Mask?”
Mara said nothing.
“You see? It’s a perfect scheme. The Masked creating more Masked, while the Autarch rules with an iron fist and nobody is ever able to challenge him, or even
think
about challenging him. Except for the . . .”
He stopped again.
“The–the what?” Mara asked in a small voice.
“The unMasked Army,” the boy said, barely whispering.
If he’d shouted obscenities Mara would have been less shocked. “They’re a myth! A tale from a
real
name, do you?” “Keltan” countered. “Besides, it’s a beautiful horse. The only good thing
about
the Autarch is that horse.”
Mara gasped. She’d never heard
anyone
criticize the Autarch before.
But I suppose if you’re already risking your life . . .
“Why wouldn’t you take your Mask?” she said. “Why would you run away? You’ll be a fugitive the rest of your life if you—”
“Because,” the boy said. “The Mask changes you.”
Mara, hearing her own fears coming from someone else’s lips, fell silent.
“Oh, they
tell
you it doesn’t. They say it only shows what’s inside you, that it’s for public safety, so the Watchers know who’s a threat, blah blah blah. ‘You’ll be the same person afterward,’ they tell you. But it’s not true!” The exclamation came out like a curse. “My best friend was Masked two months ago.
And he’s not my friend anymore.
”
Like Sala
, Mara thought, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the dank cellar. “He’ll be a full apprentice now,” she said, echoing her mother’s words. “More responsibility. He’s an adult. That’s all—”
“That’s
not
all,” Keltan snarled. “He’s not acting like an
adult
. He’s acting like
a completely different person
. He acts like we never did all the things we did. Like he doesn’t remember all the fun we had. All the secrets we shared. He . . .” He stopped. “He told me to go away and quit bothering him. He said he didn’t want to see me again. That was the day before I was supposed to be Masked.”
“And that was enough to make you run away?” Mara said. “To risk your
life
?”
“There are other reasons,” Keltan said. “But they’re none of your business.” Suddenly he was right beside her. His hand found her wrist in the dark and squeezed it so hard she gasped in pain. “My knife is right here,” he said. “Now tell me why you’re
really
here, ‘Mara.’ If that’s your real name. And don’t . . .” He jerked her arm, hard. “. . . lie.”
“I told you the truth!” Mara squeaked. “I just came out for fun. We used to do it all the time—”
“We?” Keltan jerked her arm again.
“My friend Sala and me!”
“And where is
she
?”
Gone
, Mara thought, remembering how Sala had cut her dead in the market that morning.
Like your friend
. “Masked,” she said out loud. “Masked.”
Keltan let go of her as suddenly as he had grabbed her. She rubbed her sore wrist. “Then you
know
. They’re lying to us. The Masked ones. The grown-ups. The Maskmakers—”
“No,” Mara said. “My father—” She bit off her defense before it fully emerged, but not soon enough. Suddenly Keltan had her wrist again.
“What about him?”
“Nothing!”
He squeezed so hard she couldn’t stifle another gasp. “
What about him?
”
“He’s a Maskmaker,” she yelped. “I’m going to be his apprentice.”
His hand loosened on her arm. “You’ve got the Gift?”
“Yes! And I
know
the Masks don’t change you. My father told me so.”
“And you believe him?”
“He’s my father!”
Keltan snorted. “All the more reason not to trust him. He
wants
you to change. He wants you to be a good little drone in the Autarch’s hive like him, like all the rest of them.
Especially
if you have the Gift. You
have
to be obedient, and the Mask will make sure you are.”
“But my father is making my Mask himself.”
“So? Doesn’t he wear a Mask?”
Mara said nothing.
“You see? It’s a perfect scheme. The Masked creating more Masked, while the Autarch rules with an iron fist and nobody is ever able to challenge him, or even
think
about challenging him. Except for the . . .”
He stopped again.
“The–the what?” Mara asked in a small voice.
“The unMasked Army,” the boy said, barely whispering.
If he’d shouted obscenities Mara would have been less shocked. “They’re a myth! A tale from a
Similar Books
