Vincalis the Agitator Read Free Page B

time since he was born.
    “We’ll do it,” he said.
    “Bring them with you tomorrow, then,” Solander said, but Wraith was already shaking his head in disagreement. “No? You won’t
     bring your friends?”
    “
I
can go through the gates.
They
can’t.”
    Solander looked startled. “Oh. I forgot about that.” He frowned thoughtfully and said, “And you and your two friends live
     in the Warrens.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then I have to figure out some way to get an aircar with universal clearance into the Warrens. That might take a day or two.
     Going through gates like that—well, that isn’t the sort of thing you want to make a mistake about.”
    Solander thought for another minute, then said, “I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, we’re going to steal some food
     for you and your friends.”

    Wraith and Solander stood in one of the pantries of the house’s enormous kitchen, loading food into a box. Wraith had a hard
     time believing his eyes—he could not begin to guess the purpose of all the equipment in the huge outer room, nor what most
     of the many people out there were doing. Cooking, obviously—the smells alone whispered every wonderful promise possible about
     the food being prepared—but none of them did anything that looked like drawing Way-fare out of the wall-tube. Wraith knew
     of no other method of food preparation, so he kept peeking over his shoulder to see just what they did.
    That was how Wraith saw a hard-faced older boy coming toward the pantry where he and Solander picked out supplies for him,
     Smoke, and Jess. “Solander,” he said, keeping his voice low, “someone’s coming.”
    Solander looked toward the door and groaned. “Luercas—he’s a distant cousin.” Solander hid the box in with other boxes on
     the floor behind him and turned quickly, several small pies in hand. He passed one to Wraith and started chewing on the other
     one. “He’s … awful.”
    Wraith said, “Oh,” and then took a bite of the pie. It tasted so impossibly good, tears started in the corners of his eyes—and
     at that moment Luercas sauntered into the pantry.
    “You,” he said, looking past Wraith to Solander. “What are you doing in here, you little rodent? Your parents should keep
     a tighter leash on you.”
    “I have as much right to be in the pantry as you do.” He muttered something the tone of which sounded insulting to Wraith,
     though he couldn’t make out the words.
    Apparently neither could Luercas, because he glared at Solander. “Not if I tell you that you don’t, worm.” Luercas then looked
     at Wraith, and his eyes narrowed. “And what in all the hells is this thing?”
    “A … distant cousin from … Ynjarval,” Wraith lied. “Here on temporaries.”
    “Looks like something you found in the street. You, street-dirt. Disgusting black-haired stick. All by yourself in the real
     city, eh? Let me see you bow to your superiors.” He smiled at Wraith, a most unpleasant smile.
    Wraith felt sick to his stomach. But he looked Luercas in the eyes and said, “I don’t think so.”
    “Don’t you, street-dirt? With Mama and Papa back in Ynjarval, they’re not going to be able to do much to help you. Better
     get used to bowing if you’re planning on transferring here.”
    “No,” Wraith said, shaking his head. He felt pretty certain if he’d had more than that single bite of pie in his stomach over
     the last day, he would have thrown up right there, but he tried not to let it show in his face or in his voice.
    Luercas pointed at Wraith, and Wraith heard Solander gasp. “I said bow,” Luercas said, and a pale line of fire sketched itself
     from Luercas to Wraith … and promptly died.
    Wraith crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look confident. He said nothing. His heart was racing, and his knees were
     so weak he could feel them trembling. He leaned back against the shelving for support, but it apparently had the effect of
     making him look