Crecheling Read Online Free

Magister.
    “Tomorrow, children,” Magister Zarah said, “you will make your first real choice.”
    Shad rolled his eyes at the word “ children .” He rolled them at Cheela, and Dyan felt a cold impact in the pit of her stomach, like she’d been punched by an icicle. Her jealousy warred with an intense curiosity at the Magister’s words, and a sense of mild surprise. Something was happening here, something that felt large and inevitable but that she hadn’t expected.
    “Is it our Callings?” Deek asked. “Do I get to choose what kind of Mechanical I’ll be?”
    “Every single choice you ever make,” the Magister said, “beginning tomorrow and for the rest of your lives, will have two attributes.”
    The sun, beginning to drift down on Dyan’s right shoulder, was warmer than could really be comfortable, especially since Dyan was dressed in an Outrider-style traveling coat and hat. They all were. She took off her hat and wiped sweat off her forehead, squinting against the yellow glare.
    “First,” the Magister continued her lecture, “every choice will exact of you a price.” Dyan had heard many explanation from Magister Zarah—and from earlier Magisters—while walking or riding, so in one sense this discussion of choices seemed very normal, very run of the mill. On the other hand, Zarah’s words implied that everything was changing in the Creche-Leavers’ world. Which, of course, it was.
    Dyan gulped, remembering the sight of the unknown, whistling man falling to his death, his neck snapping instantly and his feet jerking for a few seconds, like the body of a slaughtered chicken.
    “You mean in Scrip?” Deek asked.
    “Some choices cost Scrip, yes,” Magister Zarah agreed. Her voice was always stern and tough, but now it sounded truly hard, even bitter. “But for everything you choose, you pay a price by turning your back on all the other things you might have chosen.”
    “That’s what Coolers are for,” Wayland chuckled. “So I can have the iced cream today and still choose the berries tomorrow.”
    “Consider Love-Matches,” Zarah said.
    Dyan looked instantly at Shad. He looked down at his saddle, adjusting something with one hand, but he looked up and caught her glance after a moment. And smiled, a little.
    “Oh, I consider them all the time!” Cheela snapped.
    “A Love-Match is an exclusion.” Something in Magister Zarah’s voice made Dyan turn around and look at her teacher. The brim of her rider’s hat obscured Zarah’s eyes, but her mouth seemed to be twitching slightly at the corners as she spoke. “A Love-Match says I choose this one and none other, and no other may choose me .”
    Dyan settled back into her saddle, facing forward again. “All those other possibilities are the price you pay for love,” she said, understanding.
    “The price I pay for being Called to be a Healer is that I won’t be riding the canyons of the Wahai with bola in hand, looking for runaways,” Wayland said. “Though that sounds like it’s really a price paid by the Outrider Corps.”
    “All the other Callings are paying a great price for your gift to Healing,” Dyan joked, and Wayland laughed. His whole body shook when he did so, which set the others to laughing, too, and spooked his horse. It broke into a jittery canter and rattled ahead several lengths before he could rein it in.
    Dyan thought about the Magister’s words while Wayland struggled, and when the Creche-Leavers had regained their formation, she shared her thoughts. “But that means that we’ve been paying prices all along,” she concluded. “Only instead of prices of our own decisions, we’ve been paying the prices of the decisions of other people … of the Magisters, I guess. Of the Council.”
    She looked back again and was pleased to see the Magister smiling. “That’s right, Dyan,” she said. “Your Lot Letter obviously marked you for the right calling.”
    “Yes,” Cheela drawled, running fingers through her