1: Reni
Beware, oh careless reader,
For it never hurts to look
And see what fate befalls you
Reading someone else’s book.
“Reni, dear, you’re late again.” The nun stood quietly, perfectly composed, and yet it was the subtle impatience in her calm voice that woke the young girl from her sleep. She had collapsed on her bed again—reading The Fountain Maid until she had fallen asleep. Blinking her eyes open, it was the first thing she saw. The illustration of a pretty maid holding up a water jug to a knight’s lips stared up at her, and she flipped it under the bed with her fingertips before pushing herself up to face the nun.
“I’m sorry I overslept, Sister Anna,” she said.
“It is not good for young girls to read romance tales, right before bed,” Anna raised her eyebrow. “Now, come, child, you are again late for the ceremony, for we have a visitor.” Reni pulled the robe over her head quickly, while steaming with irritation underneath it; of course they would take away the book now from under her bed. Of course they would remove it from the school library. They might replace it with a modern version, watered down and pointless like all of the other fake legends, Reni scoffed—what she would do to read the real one of her favorite story! Hmph. They might as well replace the whole library with gibberish so that the orphans would have nothing to read.
The orphans, meaning, Reni herself. Oh there were other orphans. Dozens of them, from all over the city, all bearing one sad tale or another. But none of them liked to read—not like Reni. Most of them were too interested in the hype of the newest hero that was out there, claiming to be different, more special; but none of them were genuine.
Everyone was looking for a hero. The Great City didn’t even need one. Sure, everywhere there was going to be crime and monsters, but that was life, wasn’t it? The world wasn’t ending or anything. It’s not like the fabrics of the universe were shifting dangerously and everyone was going to flock to the time tower and speak with the chronologist, Reni smiled. Now THAT would be interesting.
And she loved to read. The old legends, that were probably true, once—before alternate storylines were added or taken away. They were still entertaining, a good way to distract from the fact that Reni, poor thing, was not the most popular girl. First of all she was always late, like right now, and shorter than all the rest, reaching upward to grab a candle and speeding into the welcome hall.
She definitely had pretty hair, but not a soul knew it, for they were too busy making fun of it for being red. The nuns, of course, never teased her, but they did say often to be content with what had been given to you. Shortness. Freckles. Red hair. To be CONTENT. Not thankful. As if…well.
Reni sighed deeply, but quietly, finding her place while walking slow and composed—always composed—in one of the back rows, holding the lit candle.
Why she was placed in the back row, but not up high where the spots lifted to form a bowl around the dark room, but left her standing in one of the lowest spots—that she would never know. No visitor would ever see her there. She would never be called by one of these famous, visiting heroes to be an apprentice, would never get a recommendation to one of the universities so that she could have a future when she turned seventeen. It just kept getting better. Her only friend, Megan, had left about two months ago—she’d been adopted, probably because she was tall, and smart, and had charming dark eyes, and smooth rick hair the color of ripe black walnuts that never shifted out of place. She had a charismatic smile. She was nice to everyone. And so a well-known, rich family had come to the orphanage school and chosen to adopt her. At seventeen. Against all odds.
Now she was getting a formal education at the university, Reni learned, in the enthusiastic letters her friend occasionally sent. She was meeting new people and seeing her way around the city, and Reni, as always, was left behind. Now there was no one, really, to even talk to. At least Megan had encouraged her to face her fears and CONVERSE with people; when Megan was around, the other kids weren’t so rude to Reni. It was nice. Fake nice, but still.
Now Megan was gone. There was no staying up later than you were supposed to and giggling. There was no talking about good or bad books, or verbal dreaming about the future. Megan had always wanted to be adopted by someone rich who could fund her going to the university. And she got it.
But what had Reni got? She didn’t even have good hair. All she had was her books. And the rotten nuns were starting to deprive her of those too.
“Blasted glasses,” Reni muttered, tucking them into her pocket, remembering they were not allowed just now. Everything had to be perfect. Mother Wahtermen was opening up the colossal doors just now, leading in the visitor. Every whisper among the children fell silent. This moment was critical for everyone.
Kids looked forward to this day more than adoption day, because a celebrity came to choose a guide—or an apprentice—to help them on their heroic journeys and, if they did well, to give them a recommendation to a university. Preferably THE university, the grandeur one, which was quite close to the orphanage, but which Reni had never seen, because she was never allowed to go outside and wander about by herself.
