Not that I was actually allowed a name, of course. The only way I could be a part of society, equal to other folk, would have been to destroy my companions and prove myself exceptional, better than the fate I'd been consigned to. And that wasn't likely.
But despite of everything, we gave ourselves names. Silly names, to contrast with the normal ones. Had I been better, I would have been named something normal like Styfluer. As it was, my blood-sister got that name, from what I could reckon.
We were supposed to keep away from the complexes of the Folk. Venturing out was supposed to be punishable by instant death. And yet, I'd seen my blood-sister (one of them, at least) grow among her people. Had no one seen me?
"It's deliberate," my friend Flaquiv argued with me, as we'd argued before. "They tell us not to do it, so that whoever of us do do it are the ones they want to save the lives of."
"So they want to reward us for breaking the rules? We break the rules just by being alive."
"Maybe that's part of their plan, too. Think about it. They could kill us more quickly than they do, but they don't."
"How do you know?"
"Look at those buildings." She pointed to the horizon, full of jagged rooftops. "They can make that! Weapons that can kill would be easy next to that."
"Maybe they don't have the right kind of metal to make weapons."
She shook her fur scornfully. "What do you think they build those out of, dirt?"
"We weren't old enough to remember. They might have been."
"Okay, dirt-boy, tell me this: how does the bell work?"
"The bell? What does that have to do with anything?"
She rose to her feet menacingly. "Unless you want me to ring it, you tell me."
"Flaquiv! Not you!"
She sat down again. "No, of course not me. You take things too literally. But I have a point, and if you tell me how the bell works I'll show you."
I reflected that I'd never won an argument with her. "Someone pulls the rope and the bell rings."
"And the Folk come."
"Right."
"So, if they live way over there, in buildings made of dirt, how do they hear the bell ring?"
I paused, trying to come up with a clever answer.
She called me on it. "Eh-heh. They've got powers. Powers that can hear a bell here in there. And that's why we don't try and think we're as good as they are. You didn't see Pothmur, did you?"
"Of course I did! We knew each other."
"I mean you didn't see him die. You were hiding like everybody else."
"So were you."
"But I was paying enough attention to hear. They had something that made a noise. A noise we can't make. And something that killed Pothmur."
"Okay, okay."
"I don't know why I bother to talk to you." She strutted off. "You're always the same every time."
I didn't feel like getting up, so I remained seated on the ground, staring out at the city, thinking, as usual, of Styfluer. In this community, it wasn't a smart idea to talk positively about blood-siblings among the Folk, so I wondered about her in the privacy of my own brain. How was she doing? Better than me, certainly.
Yet how was she better? I didn't know the qualifications Folk used to determine who was worthy of inclusion among them, and who would be left to die. Yet I thought positively of myself, and however intelligent or talented I was, Styfluer had to be more so.
In a way, I pitied her. She had no blood-brothers or sisters among the Folk, and so was assigned to another child in similar circumstances. Since she had been a firstborn, her parents were expected to continue producing good progeny. Instead, our blood-brother and sister that followed were cast out, and we had not been able to rescue them.
As I mourned for them quietly, Flaquiv dashed up from behind me. "Coaratt," she yelled hoarsely.
I turned around angrily. "What, I'm suddenly interesting again?"
"No-no, I'm sorry-it's, it's-"
"Enough melodrama."
"I'm serious!" She paused enough to get a breath in, then, "Vidjair's dead."
"If you wanted an excuse to talk to me, you could have come up with something better than that."
"Won't you believe me?"
Females, I noted, cry all too easily. Trying not to consider the possibility that the man who had saved me from starvation had been killed, I strode back. Everyone was panicking, milling around. They saw me and called my name, knowing how close I had been to him.
In spite of myself, I joined them. He had been decapitated, and spots of blood formed a short trail that led to where the knife that killed him had been dropped. I was too numb for it to really sink in, so I changed the subject somewhat. "Has anybody else been killed?"
"No," someone said quietly.
"Well, that's good, right? Nobody's going for the bell?"
"Whoever did it could be just waiting. Subtly, slowly, not all at once."
I turned to see who that was, not trusting my ears. To her credit, she wasn't smirking, which I wouldn't have put past her. But she knew I'd look for her.
"Relax," she said, trying to sound like she was supposed to but at the same time demeaning. "I wouldn't do that."
"Wouldn't you?" I challenged.
"You're just too upset right now. We'll talk later."
Unable to resist, I let Flaquiv guide me away. I knew I was acting immaturely, but there were more important things on my mind. I saw her leave, but didn't take interest in where she was going, or what she was doing.
Not until much later, when I heard her pass by. Looking back, that might have been done deliberately, in a ploy for my attention. "Therefore," she said to herself, "the best possibility would be to get everyone involved."
I ignored her.
"I'll be back soon, Coaratt." She made a point of stomping off.
I wasn't able to focus on Vidjair, although I tried. Flaquiv, as usual, dominated me. Even in my private thoughts.
It was a while before she came in at a sprint. She halted at my bed and paused for a moment before saying "Coaratt, look at me."
I was facing the wall, and exhausted all the strength I thought I had turning over and facing her direction.
"At me."
I lifted up my head, and saw that she was casually carrying the knife. That galvanized me. I sat up, ready to try and defend myself. I hoped instinct would show me how. No one had ever taught me.
"Now that I have your attention," she continued calmly, "I want your opinion." She threw the knife to the floor. "Oh, and I wasn't going to kill you. I don't know how."
"You cut off my head. Like you cut off Vidjair's."
"I would only have done that if I wanted to hurt you."
"And you don't?"
"Listen to this. I was arguing over how to make a bell run-"
"Like you need any advice?"
"It hurts to say this, but you're smarter than I give you credit for."
Trying to flatter or lull me?
"How does this sound? You'd have better luck if someone else was trying, too. Then you could split the load."
"And wind up in a final matchup?"
"Yes."
"But by the same logic, if everybody was killing everybody else…"
"Yes!"
"Do you think that's what the Folk want?"
She paused, then slowly said, "Yes…if they can hear the bell, maybe…maybe they can watch us."
A sort of comeuppance, then, for all the time I had spent watching Styfluer.
"That's what they do for fun-watch us trying to kill each other."
"So that's why they spare us."
She didn't put passion into her words, just cold purpose. "I hate them."
I figured she just wanted to rant, so I lay back down.
Bad move. She shoved her face over mine, subjecting me to her smell. "Do you, almost-Folk? Blood-brother of one of them? Do you hate them?"
"Our parents are Folk."
She moved away, which was progress. "You're impossible!"
"Why don't you think about killing them instead of us?"
She raised her head and looked at me, seeming sort of proud. When did she ever express genuine happiness? "Come with me." Then she took my wrist in her hands.
Another novelty. Despite our arguments, she had never resorted to physical contact. But it wasn't the rough grab I expected. Instead, she felt gentle. We walked to her room: I knew where it was, but she was reluctant to let go.
She finally released me and dashed over to her bed. "Now look at this."
She was pointing to rows of irregular knife slashes on the wall. Specifically, the one in the top right: the first in the count. "See this? That was the day I thought of killing Folk." She ran her hand right to left across the marks, stopping at the last one. "And this is today."
"Every line is a day?" I didn't want to count.
"Yes. But I couldn't do it."
"Of course not! They'd kill you!"
"I don't mean that way…" she began, but then toned down. "I don't know what it's like there. I don't go outside our compound, I don't even rescue people. I would need someone who has been there. Sees what's going on."
"No."
But she didn't hear me. "And if I found someone like that, I could torture him, kill the people he loved…"
I backed away from her, towards the door. She continued talking, thinking I was there. And just as her vision of me couldn't escape her, I couldn't either. When I got back to my room, I found the knife where she had left it, the last of Vidjair's blood permanently staining the floor.