The Military Academy
More gasps.
“Silence!” Morton shouted.
“It was a joke. It was just a joke!” Elliott shrieked.
Morton reddened. “Two Chosens violate their Chosen bonds, four Rymellans executed, the worst threat to the Way anyone can remember, and you’re joking about it?”
“I’m sor—”
“I wasn’t planning to offer a demonstration today, but now it looks like I will be.” Morton straightened and motioned to Danson and Eckles. “Secure him to the pole.”
“What?” Elliott drew back, his eyes widening.
Morton grabbed Elliott’s arm and pulled him into the clearing.
“No, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Elliott wailed.
Danson and Eckles took over from Morton, each taking one of Elliott’s arms. They started to haul him toward the pole, but he resisted, pulling back and digging his heels into the ground. “It was just a joke. Please. Please don’t—” His voice choked off.
Behind them, Morton shoved him forward. “Move!”
Elliott’s head snapped back; he lost his balance and hung limp between Danson and Eckles as they dragged him toward the pole, his toes leaving two parallel trails in the soil.
“I’ll beep for a physician and load my stick,” Morton said. “And you will all remain silent. Anyone who speaks will be next.” He strode from the clearing.
Elliott sobbed as Danson and Eckles forced his back against the pole and secured him to it using metal restraints Eckles pulled from a box at the pole’s base. “Please,” he managed to say. “Please, don’t do this to me.” He dropped his head and wept.
A metallic ringing filled the air. Lesley didn’t understand where it was coming from. Bells? No, but it had a rhythm to it. It— She swallowed. Elliott was shaking, causing the restraints to vibrate against the pole. She felt Mo’s fingers brush hers and squeezed them, but didn’t dare look at her.
Morton returned and lifted his stick in the air. “The physician is on his way,” he announced.
Lesley looked at the stick in disbelief. He wasn’t actually going to do it, was he?
“What’s your name?” Morton shouted at Elliott. When the only reply he received was a whimper, he grabbed Elliott’s hair and yanked his head up. “I said, what’s your name?”
“Tom. Elliott.”
“Well, don’t worry, Tom. Once I inject you, you’ll be dead within seconds. You won’t feel a thing.”
Morton let Elliott’s hair go. Elliott dropped his head. The metallic ringing intensified.
“What’s your name?” Morton asked, pointing at the girl who’d gasped.
She looked at him uncertainly.
“You can speak if I speak to you,” Morton said. “What’s your name?”
“Rosemary Mathers,” she said proudly, standing ramrod straight with her hands clasped behind her back.
“And yours?” Morton asked the boy who’d been on Elliott’s left.
“James Gladstone.”
“And, of course, you both agree that I should execute Elliott.”
Mathers nodded enthusiastically. Gladstone seemed unsure, offering only a half-hearted nod.
Morton took a few steps back “Does anyone here think I’m wrong?” He slowly turned in a circle, surveying the group. “Does anyone think I shouldn’t execute him?’
Lesley took a deep breath and forced her hand up. Mo inhaled sharply.
Morton rushed toward her. “You think I’m wrong?” he shouted, his face so close to hers that she could tell he’d had fish for lunch. “You thought his joke was funny?”
“No,” Lesley said.
“I know what you’re thinking. It was only a joke. Oh, boo-hoo-hoo,” Morton said, raising his voice an octave. “Let him go, Commander. Let the poor thing go.”
“No.”
“You don’t think those who violate the Way should be punished?”
Lesley resisted the urge to step back when spittle hit her cheek. “No, they should be.”
“Well, then, why do you think I’m wrong? Are you a coward? Afraid to watch a criminal die?”
“No. Disobedience means death. Death to those who commit a Chosen Violation. Death to those who disobey. Death to those who violate the Way.”
“Don’t parrot the Words at me. Why shouldn’t I execute him?”
“Perhaps you’d tell us what capital article covers distasteful jokes.”
Morton cocked his head. “Perhaps Elliott has a record filled with strikes and this pushed him over the threshold.”
Lesley shook her head. “I doubt he’d be here, being evaluated, if that were the case. And you didn’t know his name. If he had that many strikes on his record, you would have known his name.”
Morton stared at her a moment, then laughed. “What’s your name?” he asked, stepping back.
“Lesley Thompson.”
“Well, Lesley Thompson, you’re right!” he roared. “Which is why my stick isn’t loaded.” He returned to the middle of the clearing.
Lesley wiped her cheek while his back was turned and hoped her legs would stop shaking.
“What’s the matter with you?” he shouted at the group. “Were you all going to stand there and watch me do it? Listen to me. We all serve the Way, even executioners. The Way protects us.” He pointed at Elliott. “The Way protects him. It ensures that no commander will ever execute him unless that commander can justify his execution under the Way. Any commander who abuses his or her position would end up at an execution site him- or herself. If any of you ever sees someone about to violate the Way, you must speak up, no matter who it is. Even if it’s a commander.”
Morton nodded at Danson and Eckles. They released Elliott from the restraints; he fell to his knees, trembling. “Still think the Adamses enjoyed it?” Morton said to him. “Now get up!”
He struggled to his feet.
“Look at me.”
Elliott lifted a face streaked with tears.