Free Poor World by Sherwood Smith Page A

girls, but held no conversation with them, not until they were taken by that same woman to ‘evaluation.’
    This turned out to be a lot of tests, from reading and writing (Faline and Diana failed utterly at that) to various kinds of physical prowess tests. At first Diana had shown her skills, not to show off, just from the sheer joy of being able to move — and they’d promptly peeled her away and assigned her to something rather forebodingly labeled an Assault Group.
    She’d had no chance for anything but a backward glance, and Dhana hadn’t seen her since. The other girls had exchanged looks of warning, and when it was Dhana’s turn, she’d run like she had stones on her feet, and as for jumping, she’d done the baby ones only. Sherry and Gwen were separated out next and sent to the kitchens, which resolved Dhana not to do too badly. She knew that Sherry and Gwen would not mind kitchen work — they volunteered for it most often in the Junky — but Dhana knew she’d go crazy.
    Seshe was assigned to something called Communications, then she, too, disappeared — though at least Dhana glimpsed her at meals. Dhana also saw Faline, looking uncharacteristically subdued; she was alone, at Supply. Dhana was glad that Faline hated her shape-changing powers so much she wouldn’t use them even to get out of what had to be a boring job. There were some worrying whispers about Kessler’s magician, some woman called Dejain, and how she liked live victims for her experiments. If Dejain found out she had a couple members of magic races on hand, who knew what nastiness she’d try?
    The bell clanged. The tutor glanced at the clock — all the rooms had Earth-style clocks — and said, “Leave your papers.”
    They got up from their benches, lined up, and walked to the mess hall. Dhana frowned at her feet, loathing the dry, hot air. Wherever they were, it wasn’t meant for her people. The reminder of her heritage brought her thoughts back to Dejain, and she frowned. Some people never came back from those ‘experiments.’
    â€œThough I heard Kessler doesn’t like her using us, not so close to the deadline,” a girl named Coley had told Dhana. “I hear she has to just use the prisoners now.”
    Dhana didn’t like that, either. Not when Puddlenose, Christoph, and Rel were in the klink.
    As they entered the mess hall, Dhana cast a quick look around. Rules said you don’t talk to people from other barracks unless ordered to. If you broke rules, you went on report. That meant various kinds of punishments, the easiest of which was extra hours of cleaning, and the worst ... Dhana shuddered. Not that anyone ever caused trouble.
    A flicker on the edge of her vision made her look up. Faline walked by, her hair neatly braided, her clothes plain. Faline’s freckled hand touched the other — ring finger — CJ. Faline’s brows quirked in question.
    Dhana pointed her thumb down briefly, and they passed out of one another’s line of sight. Dhana spotted Seshe’s long, pale hair on the other side of the room, and she squashed a sigh. No chance of exchanging even a glance.
    She got her tray, and waited unenthusiastically for her share. Neither Gwen nor Sherry was doling food out. Down the row she shuffled, receiving a dollop of boiled rice — no herbs — and buttered vegetables — again no herbs — and salted fish, though Dhana avoided that as surreptitiously as she could. Last, sliced lem-fruit.
    When Dhana sat down, Coley appeared and plopped her tray across from her. “Hi,” Coley said, smiling, as Dhana passed the water pitcher to her. Coley was round and brown and her bright cheeks made Dhana think of apples. “Good day?”
    â€œOf course,” Dhana said. “Like always.”
    They began to eat, and Dhana said casually, “Sure better grub than I ever got at home.” She said it