The Gauntlet (The Cage 3)

“She has been trained by a Kindred. She might not look like much, but she meets the requirements. And that ape has run the Gauntlet before. She can give us important insight.”

Willa huffed in disagreement, but Bonebreak only waved away her objection.

Ironmage rubbed his chin, nodding. “This could work. . . . Yes. It’s possible. Not probable, of course. She’ll probably go mad like the others and die within the first few puzzles. I give her a handful of hours at most. But if it did work . . .” He cackled in delight, rubbing his hands together at the thought of imagined riches.

A handful of hours?

“How long does it last?” Cora asked. “The whole Gauntlet from start to finish.”

“It varies, little childs, it varies. Some runners complete puzzles in ten human minutes. For someone relatively weak like you, I would imagine each puzzle would take several human hours.”

She ignored the insult. So if there were twelve puzzles, she should expect the Gauntlet to last about twenty-four hours. A full day.

She motioned to the darkness beyond the windows. “Am I going to have to wear these goggles the whole time?”

“Oh, no, little childs. The Gatherers are blind as cave worms, and the Axion and Kindred as well. The Gauntlet happens above-ground, on the surface. The module ship lands in a valley close to Tern; there are tunnels to connect it. The delegates bring their own ships that interlock to the Gauntlet module. They don’t set foot underground. Afraid of the dark.” He made a disgusted sound. “All together, it forms a small compound. The Gauntlet module, with its twelve chambers, is the centerpiece. Around it are smaller modules that serve as the central vestibule, recess rooms, and control compartments.”

“Cassian said there was a formal registration process.”

Ironmage dismissed that with a wave. “Bah. Perhaps there is when the Kindred host the Gauntlet. I am not surprised they would make it as complicated as possible. We Mosca care nothing for such formalities. Once the weather cooperates, we throw the runners in and it begins. It is no more formal than that.”

“How many runners will there be? And of which species?”

Both Ironmage and Bonebreak were silent for a moment. Bonebreak scratched his chin awkwardly. “Well,” he said. “One. You.”

Cora nearly choked on the last of the gruel. “I thought there were normally more than that. At least five or six.”

Ironmage took a hefty sip of his drink. “Runners don’t like to travel all the way to Drogane. Can’t imagine why.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the smell,” Cora muttered. “Or the general complete disregard for any law and order or, you know, lamps.”

Ironmage shrugged. “What does it matter how many run?”

“It matters,” Cora said, “because this means all eyes will be on me. The Kindred Council member Arrowal has been trying to sabotage me this entire time. And Fian has been helping him. This makes it easier for them.”

Bonebreak scoffed. “We do not fear meddling by a few Council members. The Gauntlet cannot be sabotaged. Believe me, if one could cheat the Gauntlet, we Mosca would be the ones to figure out how. The Kindred have even tightened the regulations. A loophole was brought to the Intelligence Council’s attention, something about how a runner might be able to manipulate the Chief Assessors’ command inputs to approve a victory before the puzzles even began. The loophole was closed, the regulations rewritten.”

Cora felt the blood draining from her face. She had been the one planning on using that loophole to win.

“When the time comes, little childs,” Bonebreak said, “we will take you aboveground to the valley. You will see the Gauntlet modules for yourself. In the meantime”—he poked at her thin arm—“I suggest you work on building your strength.”

He said something in Mosca to the children, who jumped up and grabbed Cora and the others by the hands, pulling them toward a partitioned area of the great room that had been filled with big, ridiculous fluffy pillows.

“Good night, little childs,” one child said, standing on tiptoe to pat Cora on the head.

Once they were alone, Cora sighed and flopped onto a pillow.

Willa pulled out a piece of paper.

Isn’t nice, is it?

Cora swallowed hard. She was suddenly aware that everything the Mosca did to treat her and the other humans like animals, humans had done—and worse—to chimpanzees.

“Sorry,” Cora said quietly.

Willa huffed.

“Listen,” Cora said to Anya. “You heard what they said. What are we going to do now?”

“About what?” Anya asked blankly.

“About the Gauntlet!” Cora whispered.

Anya nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah. Right. Of course.” Her hands, tucked in her lap, were shaking with the tremor.

Cora turned to Willa and explained, “We were going to use that loophole to cheat it. It was Plan A. Take over the Assessors’ minds and make them approve my win before I’d even entered the first puzzle. But somehow, the Kindred found out our plan. It must have been Fian. When he betrayed Cassian, he must have told the Council.”

Willa wrote a note.

If cheating was Plan A, what’s Plan B?

Cora nearly laughed in panic. “Plan B,” she said, “was to run it for real. To actually try to win. But you heard Ironmage and Bonebreak. I’m not ready. My training with Cassian was interrupted. You said yourself I shouldn’t run.”

Anya leaned forward. “But you have to run, Cora. I’ll help. We have seventeen days, that’s enough to finish your training. I can teach you to control your perceptive abilities better. And physical conditioning should be easy enough; there’s plenty of room to climb and run in the city.”

“Thanks,” Cora said, “but it’s the intellectual puzzles I need most help with. Letter and number puzzles have always been my weakness.”

She and Anya both looked sidelong at Willa. The chimp folded her arms obstinately until Anya batted her eyes and said in a sweet voice, “Isn’t that what the Axion did to you, Willa? Make your brain stronger?”

A grunt of unhappy affirmation came from Willa.

“Look at it this way,” Cora pleaded. “I’m going to run the Gauntlet with your help or without it. Nothing you say can convince me not to. But your advice could make all the difference. And if humanity is freed, animals will fare better too. I’ll make certain of it.”

Willa huffed and wagged her head side to side.

“You could even help set up a new system,” Cora pressed. “If I win the Gauntlet, you could have a real say in the way animals are treated. We could put in laws so that none could ever be experimented on like you were.”

At this, Willa paused. She wrote again.

This is beyond foolish. You will get yourself killed. But that is your choice to make.

Cora grinned. “I take this to mean you’ll help.”

Willa rolled her eyes but nodded.

“That just leaves moral training,” Anya said.

Cora took Lucky’s journal from her pocket. She flipped through the pages almost reverently, as if she could see him in his tight handwriting, smell him in the binding. In these pages, he had written his thoughts about how the Kindred had mistreated their human and animal wards and what he thought was right and wrong.

She stopped on a list he had made.

Granddad’s Code, it said. First: Do no harm. Second: Think about the good of the group over the good of the individual. Third . . .

Cora closed the book, squeezing it tightly. “I already have a moral coach,” she said. “Lucky.”