SanClare Black (The Prince of Sorrows) by Jenna Waterford

was.
    “ Yes.” Pol belatedly answered Michael’s question when Ned failed to. “If we ever have to go to hospital, Nanna Tierna looks after us. She lives here, you know, but she spends most of her time at Landsend. She does always come with the healers for inspections when they want to make sure we’re not secretly diseased.”
    Michael ’s new roommates crowded around him then, all trying to see the picture. They pressed against him, the contact making their thoughts even clearer than they’d been before. Michael bit his lip, fighting back nausea. The thoughts were too loud, too many, but this was his new life. He’d have to find some way to cope with it.
    When Pol moved to turn the page, a new voice called, “Wait!” and Michael sensed the other boy just then realized that their table had become the center of what seemed to be the entire dining hall’s attention. Boys and girls of all different ages crowded close around the table, all trying to see Michael’s drawing.
    I can ’t take this, Michael thought, and he untied the straps binding the booklet together and took the picture out so it could be handed around. This led to something of a melee, and the noise level in the hall—already quite high—rose noticeably, but the epicenter of the crowd shifted away.
    Hands attacked the booklet, snatching several pictures in quick succession. Michael watched, wistful but resigned, as one of his earlier attempts—this one of the view from one of his hospital ward’s windows, framed by realistically draping curtains—disappeared. Once the crowd had moved off, trading around the pictures and shouting, half the drawings in Michael’s notebook had vanished and were making their ways around the dining hall to much acclaim.
    “ Aren’t you upset?” Pol asked as Michael calmly retied the straps on his now much skinnier booklet. “You’ll probably never see those again.”
    Michael shrugged. “I can always draw more. He smiled across the table at Pol and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Those are not my favorites. I still have those.”
    Pol seemed almost surprised to find himself grinning back . “Come on,” he said as he stood. “I’ll show you our room.”
    They were interrupted at the dining hall door by a group of boys and girls, all older than they were, all talking at once. Michael made out the words, “Draw me!” repeated several times in several voices, all very insistent. He took a step back, retreating from the noise both outside and inside his head but hands reached out and caught him.
    He wanted to scream at them all to stop touching him , but his throat had gone dry and his head whirled. And then someone’s back blocked his view, and the hands released him.
    “ Leave him alone!” Pol shouted, annoyance rolling off of him in oddly-comforting waves. “Can’t you see he isn’t well? He’s just left the hospital.”
    A flurry of words, again, but Michael heard, “Sorry,” among them.
    “ Yeah, well,” Pol said as he turned around to check on Michael who saw the group dispersing. “You all right?”
    Michael still couldn’t get any words out, but he managed a nod.
    “ Vail Above Us, but you look awful,” the other boy commented, but his smile had returned. “Don’t mind them. They’re nice enough, and they like your pictures. You can trade them for stuff you want!”
    Michael had no idea what that meant, but when Pol said, “Let’s go,” Michael followed along willingly, re-shouldering his pack which contained his sketch book, his saved, special pictures, and some odds and ends of charity clothing. Everything he had, Nanna Tierna had given him, but now he was one of these children. One of JhaPel’s orphans.
    Kiska . They call us kiska.
    He caught Pol’s attention as they climbed a steep staircase. He’d regained his composure but now needed a moment to catch his breath. “Excuse me, but what is a ‘kiska?’”
    Pol snorted derisively. “Nasty word, but it’s what we