Free Zenn Scarlett by Christian Schoon Page B

at the line of closed doors. “Novice Zenn, do you recall the time when there were more students at the cloister school? Helping with tasks?”
    “Not really,” Zenn said. “The Rift with Earth had already started when I was born. So, it’s basically been this way for my whole life.”
    His question prompted her to imagine, not for the first time, what it was like when the entire dorm had been buzzing with activity. Did students talk and joke with each other as they hustled out of their rooms every morning? Were they all good friends with each other, sharing their excitement about the animals they would work on or learn about that day? And did her mother join in the banter, when she was Zenn’s age and going through her novice year?
    “Were you not lonely,” Hamish asked, “growing up in the absence of others in your hatchling group?”
    “No, actually, I’m used to being the only… hatchling around here,” she told him.
    “And what of your friends in the surrounding environment? With the townfolk in Arsia indisposed toward alien animals and those of us who deal with them, do you in fact have friendships or associations with others?”
    “Um, no,” Zenn said. “I don’t… associate all that much.” The truth was, even if she was inclined to ignore the Rule about making friends, kids in Arsia City and the valley didn’t stay around. They grew older and left. They moved to Zubrin, or went to find work in one of the other larger settlements.
    Friends leave. Everyone… leaves .
    Talking about it, thinking about it was making her feel testy.
    “Besides, it would be weird to have lots of others here,” she said. “All those bodies and voices, all those faces, swarming around all the time. I’m not really sure I’d like it.” But even as she said it aloud, she could feel the tug of curiosity. What would it be like? Other bodies, other faces, other personalities all around, every day, day in and day out? The strange mix of emotions this train of thought provoked made the whole idea almost overwhelming. No, she decided. It was better as it was. Less confusing. Safer.
    “Zenn?” It was Sister Hild, calling up from downstairs. Zenn walked to the banister and looked down. The Sister was in the entryway of the calefactory hall. Next to her, Otha was pulling on his heavy work chaps.
    “So, the princess awakens,” her uncle said, glancing up. “Good. You can assist. Get dressed and meet me in the courtyard. Did I hear our new sexton up there?” Zenn turned to see the big coleopt attempting to move quietly back to his room.
    “He’s here,” Zenn said, then immediately felt guilty. “Sorry,” she whispered as he came to join her on the landing.
    “Yes, director-abbot,” Hamish said, only half-concealing his disappointment at being discovered. “I am here.”
    “Did you give Griselda that dose of mineral supplement with this morning’s feeding?” Griselda was a crypto-plasmodial seepdemon being treated for membrane parasites at the clinic.
    “I haven’t fed her yet, director-abbot. I was about to attend to it. Right after breakfast.” His mouthparts quivered at the mention of food, the crescent-shaped mandibles rubbing together with a sound like sharpening knives. “Do I have your approval for…?”
    “You haven’t had your breakfast yet?” Otha cut him off. “Early to wake, sooner to work, sexton Hamish.” It was a saying Zenn had heard many times. She got an uncharitable amount of pleasure hearing it quoted to someone else. Hamish’s antennae drooped, and he gave her what she imagined was a coleopt’s version of a long-suffering look as he went by, descended the stairs, and started off for the kitchen.
    “Sexton,” Otha said, stopping him. “Patients eat first. Remember?”
    “Yes, director-abbot,” Hamish said, turning reluctantly toward the door leading to the cloister yard.
    “Did we get a shard?” Zenn called to her uncle. It was the same question she asked almost every