The Gender End by Bella Forrest (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📕

they were wearing identical crimson uniforms underneath, resplendent with shiny black knee-high boots.

“Is a knight like a warden?” I asked, suddenly curious.

MacGillus looked over at me, his mustache twitching as the corner of his lip curled up. “I’m not sure what that is,” he admitted honestly.

“A, uh, guard,” I stuttered as I tried to find an accurate analogy. “An organized force that helps catch criminals?”

“Oh. In that case, yes, a knight is very much like that.”

“You shouldn’t tell her that,” Jathem chided sternly, and I looked up to meet his eyes, suddenly feeling hesitant about even using the term “warden.” Still, that didn’t give away our location or surroundings—as long as I kept quiet about that, I couldn’t imagine what I might say about our social customs that could give anything away. But I needed to be more careful in the future. It was probably best not to concede anything. Viggo had shown me how a cunning investigator could gather information from almost nothing, and Jathem could have that talent as well.

“Okay, well, if we can’t talk about that, can you at least tell me about your council? How many people are on it? And are they elected, or is it an aristocratic system that you must be born into to rule?”

“How are leaders in your culture determined?” Jathem shot back, and I frowned.

“Look, Jathem, I’ll be more than happy to answer your questions, but in my defense, we’re not going to be meeting with my leaders. We’re going to be meeting with yours. Any info would help. I mean, I don’t want to disrespect your leaders by doing something stupid like speaking without being spoken to or some other tradition I don’t understand.”

Jathem frowned as he stepped past me, heading down the narrow passage. The tunnel was cramped—Jathem and MacGillus had to duck down to move through it—but my head barely brushed the top of the tunnel. It moved down about ten feet, and then opened up onto a landing. The wall was directly in front of me, and as I looked around, I realized we were standing on a set of stairs. There was a door directly across from me, with a hatch marking it 97-E-12. I noted it as I continued to marvel at the length of the stairs. There were no switchbacks that I could see, but rather a steady, fixed incline running along the width of the tower. I could see where it turned ahead, and there were dozens of landings with doors on either side running left to right.

“Wow,” I breathed, looking up. “This is incredible.”

“This is the shell,” Jathem said, already beginning to climb the seemingly endless stairs. “I don’t mind telling you this, as it relates to our defensive capabilities. If you do turn out to be some spy or nefarious individual, I want you to realize the frivolity of your cause before you even attempt it.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that as I trailed along behind him. “Seems fair. So the shell does what, exactly?”

“It protects and braces the area inside, keeping it environmentally sound. But more than that, it acts as a deterrent for any and all outside who might harbor ill intentions. Whole sections can be closed off at a moment’s notice, long before anyone could get inside.”

“So it’s kind of like a beehive?”

“Do your people keep beehives to help pollinate your crops?” asked MacGillus from behind me, and I paused in my march up the stairs to look at him.

“Actually, I’m not sure. I’m not a farmer.”

“Neither is he,” said Jathem from ahead. “But MacGillus just married one, and now he thinks he’s an expert. Although why he’d ever want to farm is beyond me.”

“You know that farming was my first choice. I just have a black thumb is all.”

“Your first choice?” I asked, not wanting to stall their flow of conversation, but also too curious to resist.

“Everyone in the tower has a task, a purpose, Miss…” Jathem paused and cocked his head, slowing on the stairs. “I never caught your name,” he remarked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Violet. Violet Bates.”

He inclined his head and then began to march again. I sucked in a breath, already cognizant that my ribs and thighs were aching, and followed suit. I hated that I was still injured—now, more than ever before, was a time when I most needed to be fit, and it just wasn’t possible.

“As I was saying, everyone has a purpose, and is allowed to apprentice in whatever department he or she feels best suited to. Sometimes they are accepted, but other times they must find a different department, as their skills are not up to par.”

“Ah. That’s interesting,” I replied. “I guess we do things similarly, but… enterprise makes it possible for anyone to do or be anything they want.” Depending on their gender and which side of the river they live on, I would have added if I’d wanted to be completely accurate.

“Provided they have the mental capacity for it, I assume,” he mused.

I frowned at the dryness in Jathem’s voice, and then shrugged. It was accurate.

We finally reached the corner of the building, and turned. My breathing was coming in sharp bursts now, the ache in my ribs spreading. While my bruised ribs had seemingly settled down, the stairs were providing a unique set of challenges that they did not agree with.

Neither did my thighs or my calves, for that matter. The steps just seemed never-ending, and there was no way of knowing how much higher we would have to climb before we reached our destination. I felt a deep yawn coming on, the exhaustion of the past few days really starting to take its toll. The multitude of steps ahead of me were calling for me to sit down and find a way to catch at least a few minutes of precious sleep, as well as catch my breath.

MacGillus seemed to note my flagging strength first; after a few moments of my panting and wheezing,