“A rebel group was caught last night,” one man said to another. “Traitors to the empire, can you believe it?”
Hearing strangers speak of her parents in such a way was hard for Sonika. It was made even harder by the fact that she could scarcely believe it herself. She wondered if her distress showed beneath the thick layer of powder on her face. Gat, on the other hand, hid his interest in the conversation well, pretending to study a swatch of purple fabric meant to be worn as a fashionable belt.
“I heard they’re rounding up the rest of the group as we speak,” the other man said. “There were two dozen of them, living right under our noses!”
What? Gat looked at her now, his expression grave.
“But the two they caught last night, Lore and Brida Vaid, were the leaders. The organizers. Slave sympathizers, both of them.” Sonika froze upon hearing her parents’ names. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gat stiffen too.
“They weren’t just caught. They were killed. They say the woman fell from the cliffs trying to escape, but the man passed into the Void later from a stab wound.”
Suddenly, Sonika couldn’t breathe. Images flashed across her mind: her father clutching his abdomen, blood spilling between his fingers like water through a sieve; her mother’s final smile as she fell from the cliffs, taking the last two soldiers with her. Protecting her children, to the end.
She gasped, trying to pull in the air but failing, her lungs screaming for breath.
One of the men glanced at her sharply, frowning, but then Gat was there, steering her away with an arm around her shoulder. “It’s this confounded heat,” he explained over his shoulder. To her, he whispered, “Breathe, Sonika.”
She did, the air making an audible sound as she sucked it into her chest.
“Good riddance, I say,” one of the men said, continuing their conversation.
The breath burst from her lips. Her cheeks flushed and her blood boiled. Who were these men to speak of her parents this way? They didn’t even know them! And now they were…they were…
gone.
Anger dwarfed her sadness and she longed to see these men—these ignorant fools—laid low. She whipped around, stalking back toward—
“Whoa there,” Gat said, gripping her arm tightly and holding her back.
“Let go of me,” Sonika said through clenched teeth.
“This isn’t the time nor the place.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
“Every word.” Though his words were even, she knew her brother well enough to sense the dangerous undercurrent to them. He wanted to go back every bit as much as she did, but he was being smart.
She took another deep breath, firing a final scathing look at the men before turning away. They walked on, past stall and vendor, past the wealthy and their slaves, past soldier and horse.
They walked until the marketplace was long behind them.
“I want to kill the emperor and all his soldiers,” Sonika said. Her anger had faded, and now she spoke the words matter of factly. They were sitting atop the plateau once more, watching the last glow of sunlight ebb over the horizon.
“That’s not possible,” Gat said. “At least not on our own.”
But the only thing keeping her hunger and sadness from gnawing her apart from the inside out was the thought of revenge.
“We need to carry on the work they started. We need to make it mean something,” she insisted.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“And hiding for the rest of our lives is better? We have no food. No shelter. No clothing other than these ripped, filthy rags. If we’re going to live like this, we should at least join the rebellion.”
Gat grabbed her shoulders, pulling her head toward him, until all she could see were his eyes, dark green in the dim lighting. “There is no rebellion,” he said. “Don’t you see that? What mother and father started? Gone. Emperor Hoza snuffed it out.”
Sonika didn’t blink. “Then we’ll start another rebellion. If you blow on a hot coal, the fire begins anew.”
Gat laughed, pushing her away.
“You don’t think I can?” She stuck out her chin in defiance.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you laughed.”
“Because we haven’t eaten in a day. Because we slept less than half the night. Because we”—he sniffed his armpit—“smell. And yet you want to discuss a rebellion?”
“Yes. What else is there to do? And you saw Mother last night, the way she used phen sur to fight off those soldiers. I knew it was more than a dance. I always knew it.”
Gat couldn’t deny that—she talked about it often enough. “It was incredible. Did you see the way she moved? Like water and lightning made one.”
Sonika nodded, glad to talk about their parents in this way, rather than remembering what happened after. “Father, too. How could we have been so blind all these years?”
“They hid it well. And we were too busy drumming up business for your phen sur training.”
Still, a twinge of regret shot through her. She’d always loved her parents, even when she squabbled relentlessly with her mother, but she’d never been proud of them. They deserved that. More than anyone else in the world.
“I want to make them proud.”
“Me too,” Gat said immediately. “But first, food.”
“Where are we going to get food? Steal it?”
Gat said, “I have a better idea.”
Sonika didn’t like it, but they were desperate. “I hate this,” she said as they dropped to the ground.
“Me too,” Gat said. He pointed to the first shadowed cubicle he saw. A light flickered from within.
Sonika entered first, offering a soft, “Hello?” so as not to startle anyone. Then again, those under the control of Emperor Hoza’s slavemark were not easily startled.
The slaves turned their heads slowly, just watching her. There was a man and a woman and two children, both old enough to be enslaved. All four had black eyes and the rigid posture to prove it. The woman said, “Does my master have need of me?”
Sonika shook her head. “No.”
“Me then,” the man said.
“No.”
“We will go,” the children said in unison. “Our master doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Gat stepped forward. “None of you is needed by your masters. We come seeking your help.”
The woman blinked. She’d never seen a slave frown, but this felt like the same thing. “But you are not our master.”
“I know,” Gat said. “We’re your neighbors. We live—lived—not far.”
“Yes. We know,” the man said. “They came for you last night. The soldiers.”
Sonika felt horrid for what they were about to do. The family was eating a meager meal of breadcrumbs and plain white rice, barely enough for two of them, much less four. “They killed our parents. We are starving,” she said.
“Your parents were kind to us,” the woman said. “You were always kind to us.”
It was Sonika’s turn to blink. She’d never realized the slaves could even recognize kindness. Their blank expressions seemed to suggest the opposite. “We did the best we could,” Sonika said, tears blurring her vision.
“You may have what is left,” the woman said. “Children.” The two children stood and offered their plates to them, and Sonika felt something twist in her.
“It is too much. We will take half, if you can afford it.”
“As you wish.” The woman whispered something to the girl, who walked past them stiffly, out into the canyons. The boy prepared a plate, taking half of what was left on each plate. The plate was a wide flat rock.
“Thank you,” Gat said. The boy bowed.
Sonika wanted to eat slowly, to savor the tasteless, pasty rice and stale crumbs, but instead she shoveled it into her mouth with her hands, barely chewing. Her stomach gurgled in appreciation, but then it was gone. Gat licked the crumbs from his lips, look
ing like he was in a trance.
“Thank you again,” he said. “We should go.”
“Wait. You can shelter here. And there is more food coming. It will be enough.”
“What?” Sonika said, but just then they heard a commotion outside. One by one they entered the tiny cubicle, slaves all of them, each placing a flat stone on the ground before bowing and departing.
Sonika was speechless, so overcome with emotion she could only smile at each person as they placed their gift and left. These people had so little and yet they were willing to give?
“They remember your kindness, too,” the woman said.
Sonika looked at Gat. They smiled at the same time, sitting down to eat. “What is your name?” she asked the woman between mouthfuls.
“Slave,” the woman answered automatically.
“No,” Sonika said. “Your name from before.”
The woman blinked. “That was a long time ago. The last time I heard it was on the great ship that brought us here from Teragon.”
“You don’t remember it?” Gat asked, licking his finger.
“It’s like…looking through fog. It is there, but it might’ve been someone else’s memory. My name was…Anja.” For the barest moment, the time it took her to speak that one word—her name—her voice changed. Gone was the stiffness, the monotone, and the silence was filled with emotion, with passion, with hope that the real woman behind the one bearing the slave mark was still in there. Somewhere. Not lost.
“What about you?” Gat asked the man.
“Noah.” Again, that change, like a burst of sunlight between endless rows of dark clouds.
“Your children?”
Anja blinked. “They were born here. They have no names.”
If the children were ashamed or distressed by this fact, they didn’t show it, finishing all the food on their plates.
Anja began to collect the stones, scrubbing each clean with an old rag. Noah said, “Time for rest.”
Obediently, the children rolled over onto the bare ground. Noah placed a threadbare blanket across them. One for both of them, barely large enough to cover their sides. Their eyes closed immediately, and they seemed to fall asleep without pause.
Sonika wondered whether the slaves dreamed. She hoped so.
“Here,” Anja said, having finished with the plates. She held a larger blanket out, just as thin as the children’s.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Sonika said. “But no. We will be warm enough inside your home.”
The woman nodded and laid down beside her children, pulling the blanket over her. She left space for her husband. There would be just enough room for Sonika and Gat, if they all pushed together. At least we can share body heat, Sonika thought, trying to stay positive. And it was unlikely the soldiers would seek them amongst the slaves.
We are safe, she thought, leaning back, nestling her head in the crook of her arm.
Gat eased down, too, his hand coming to rest atop hers. He squeezed once, and she had the feeling his thoughts were a mirror to her own, although perhaps not the last one, the one that was just now forming, taking shape like a fast-growing tree.
The moment before Noah blew out the lantern, Sonika had a single thought:
I am going to free as many of them as I can. I will do whatever it takes.
Sonika felt warm when she awoke, and not only because of the body warmth of the men on either side of her. In fact, there was only empty space on one side, where Noah used to be. Gat, however, continued to slumber on the opposite side, his exhalations deep and satisfied.
No, she was warm because of the blanket that had somehow shifted from Anja and Noah to she and her brother during the night.
“You didn’t have to—” she started to say when she saw Anja preparing the morning meal by lanternlight. It was still dark in the canyons. Noah and the children moved about her, helping. They moved so easily around each other, never colliding, that it could’ve been a dance if not for the stiffness in their steps.
“I didn’t,” Anja said, guessing her question. “You pulled the blanket during the night.”
Shame heated her cheeks. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
The woman didn’t stop moving, serving breakfast—flatbread dipped in egg yolk—onto flat stones. “Your family fed us many times. We forget many things. But not that. Never that.”
Sonika remembered when she was much younger and she used to complain about having to give up a portion of their food to the slaves. On those occasions her mother always made her deliver the food. Looking back, she felt so selfish.
Gat stirred beside her, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze darted around the cubicle, but then softened when it landed on Sonika. “My back feels like I slept on a rock,” he said. Reaching underneath him, he plucked out a rock. “Oh, that explains it.”
“Eat,” Anja said, offering a single flat stone for them both.
“Thank you,” Sonika said. They split up the food and devoured it, licking the egg from their fingers. Hopefully it would be enough to sustain them for the rest of the day. After that, they would have to figure something out.
“We must go,” Anja said when the food was gone and the plates cleaned.
Sonika nodded. Their masters would be expecting their own meals to be prepared soon.
Gat said, “Thank you. For everything.”
“Will we see you again?” Anja asked.
“I don’t know,” Sonika said, ignoring the dark look her brother shot her way.
“You are welcome here,” Noah said. “If you need us.”
“Thank you,” Sonika said, watching as they left, joining the throng of slaves already marching through the canyons.
Gat said, “We have nowhere else to go.”
She finally met his eyes. “Yes. We do. We have a mine to liberate.”
“This is madness,” Gat said.
Sonika grinned. He was probably right. A little madness was exactly what she needed right now. In truth, she was surprised she’d persuaded her brother to come this far with her. Then again, she hadn’t given him much choice when she told him she was going whether or not he came along.
They were hidden behind a rocky outcropping in view of one of the many Phanecian mines scattered across the sweltering flatlands. The dust beneath them was turning to mud as they dripped sweat under the blazing heat of the sun.
“It would take an army to take Junis,” Gat said, shaking his head.
That’s where he was wrong. The thing about slaves who were not only in captivity, but whose minds were being controlled by magic…they didn’t try to escape. The only purpose of the mine masters was to give orders and ensure the mine met the quotas set by the empire. Junis was a copper mine, one of the lesser mines. It was worked by perhaps two hundred slaves. Thus far, they’d seen six different masters emerge into the sunlight, most to urinate in the desert. They’d seen each of the six twice, which meant that was likely the sum total of them, unless one had a particularly large bladder.
Still, two against six were not the best odds, not that she would admit it. “I’ve seen you fight. You could take any three of them.”
He scoffed. “And you’ll take the other three?”
“Remember Mother?”
“You’re not Mother. You’re a dancer.”
His negativity bounced off her like she was wearing leather armor. Pessimism paved a slippery trail to despair, and she didn’t want to sink back into that hole. She needed to have a purpose, like her parents had. Something real, something meaningful.
“We won’t know if we don’t try.”
“Madness,” Gat muttered again. “I won’t even be able to say ‘I told you so’ if we’re dead.”
“Guess you’ll have to trust me.”
“Do you think this is what they would want? For us to throw our lives away?” His words hit her like a rock to the face, but he wasn’t done yet. “Why do you think they hid so much from us in the first place? They wanted us to live with
out fear.”
“Look how that turned out!” Sonika said, too loudly considering they were hiding. She lowered her voice, wishing the words back as soon as she said them, but couldn’t stop, her frustration boiling over like an unwatched pot. “We will never again live without fear if we don’t strike back, if we don’t stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want the emperor to fear me.” The words were too bold by half, but she meant them just the same.
Gat sighed. “Why is it you always convince me to go along with your fool-brained schemes?”
“Because you’re a fool?” Sonika offered sweetly.
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“So you’ll help me free Junis?”
“When?”
“Tonight. After dark.”
He shook his head, but it wasn’t an answer. Sonika knew her brother would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again if she asked. She clenched her fists, wishing the day would grow wings.
They formulated the skeleton of a plan, hoping the skin and muscle would appear when the time came.
Then they napped, getting as much rest as possible while hiding in the shade cast by the rocks.
They awoke when the sun was a finger’s breadth above the horizon, watching in silence as it fell, shattering like a broken egg yolk, painting the cloudless sky with streaks of color.
They waited.
The sky darkened.
One by one, the six soldiers emerged, relieving themselves once more in the desert before, presumably, lying down to sleep for the night. Almost certainly at least two of them would guard the mine at any given time, working in shifts.
Sonika liked those odds much better.
They waited.
Ruahi rose, the moon god’s red eye peering down from behind a half-open lid. Luahi followed, the barest sliver of green. Stars speckled the sky, green and gold and red. The greens exploded. The golds sparkled. The reds streaked like flaming arrows across the sky.
They waited.
Several clouds moved overhead like coconspirators. The desert darkened further, a land of shadows.