A blue-robed priest scratched his neck and then pointed at me. His companion, a Creet soldier, gripped my arm and led me over to a company of previously chosen others. I was elated, for Lillatta was in my group, standing not more than three people away. The itchy-necked priest had selected her for the group earlier. I saw no other Sakitans nearby, so with a confrontation unlikely, I inched my way toward Lil. She was aware of me now, for she was staring, and the look was one of fright.
I smiled, trying to reassure her, but that just seemed to frighten her more. What was she thinking? That I was going to harm her? I glanced over to see if the Spood priest and soldier were looking. They weren’t, so I edged over to Lillatta’s side.
She seemed on the brink of bolting.
“What is wrong with you?” I whispered. “Are you trying to attract attention?”
She turned to me and panic contorted her face.
“I didn’t mean to,” she blubbered. “Please don’t hurt me. I had to do it. I—”
I grabbed hold of her hand and spoke as gently as I could.
“Shhh, it’s all right. I would never hurt you. I don’t blame you for what happened. I have never blamed you. I know you had to make an awful choice, but I have never thought any less of you for it. I am your friend, Lillatta, and always will be.”
The hint of a hopeful expression appeared on Lillatta’s face.
She began to cry. This was not the time or place for that! I tried shielding her from the Spood duo who were still conducting point-and-move. I pressed my arm around her shoulders.
“Listen,” I urged, maintaining my soothing tone. “We can talk later and cry all we want to, but right now I need you to pull yourself together. I came here to rescue you, and that won’t happen if you don’t stop trying to stick out like a can-rak in a porse herd.”
That got her attention.
“You came to rescue me?” It was a statement tinged with wonder and doubt.
“Yes, my silly little friend. I came to rescue you.”
The Spood priest yelled something, causing us to glance over at him. The priest was pulling an older man with stringy white hair from the main group.
“Who commands this company?” the itchy priest demanded.
“It is Sopak,” the Creet assistant replied.
“Tell him he has earned five demerits on his record. I keep telling these commanders I want slaves who can work, not useless meat such as this.”
He indicated the old man.
“Kill him.”
At first, the elderly man did not react to the words directed at him. Then, realization must have struck, for he went to his knees and began pleading for his life. He reached out gnarled hands to grab the priest’s robe as the man turned to leave. He missed, emitting a pained cry as he fell forward onto his aged palms and twisted fingers. At that moment, a blade plunged through the man’s back, past his spine and into his heart. The old man grunted and collapsed. The Creet withdrew the blade and casually wiped the blood off on the dead man’s tunic.
No one reacted to the murder. If the man had family members, they remained silent. It would not be wise to announce your loyalties to one in disfavor. We all knew it could have been any one of us sharing that fate. A wrong look, a misplaced laugh, an innocent bump. It took no more than that and the blade might be at your back.
The Spood continued forming the prisoners into multiple groups. Lillatta and I were in a party of about ten. Javen wound up in another group. I was sad we would have no more opportunities to converse. I had grown to appreciate Javen’s amiable companionship. I would miss him.
Guards led our group along the main thoroughfare of the sperza and directed us to climb aboard a couple of those odd platforms that rolled. They assigned other groups to similar vehicles. Hitched to each platform were four drooves. A driver cracked a swok, the drooves pulled, and we left the sperza behind.
We traveled a well-worn road for a couple of hours, passing through forests and then through fields worked by slaves, stopping only for a water break. The platforms rocked and creaked and the sun burned. We sat on bare wood and my body began to bruise and ache. The road skirted several sperzas, but our handlers did not stop or detour.
Our escorts were a full Creet troop of about a hundred soldiers along with a few blue-robed priests, all of them riding individual mounts. Lillatta and I could not converse, as the Creet guards were too close. My anxiety level continued to increase. I feared the opening to escape had been shrinking since our arrival. We were on a road of no exit, a road that appeared as the extended tongue of an unknown beast, leading us ever closer to its open jaws.
Our destination revealed itself—Grell, the city.
On the outskirts of Grell stood houses, wood-framed and multihued, with some seemingly built to outlast the world and others appearing as frail as dreams. They lined intersecting streets of dirt and stone that twisted or ran straight, depending on the whim of their designers. Intermingled with the houses were shops of infinite diversity, offering whatever the imagination could conjure. Spood men, women, and children bustled along the narrow lanes, going in and out of these business establishments. Some perused open-air markets where they scrutinized wooden bins layered with produce for the purchase or examined cuts of meat hanging on hooks. The variety of fruits and vegetables available, I learned later, was due to the odd, square fields of orderly sprouts I had seen on arrival. The Spood had usurped the province of nature and grew the food themselves. Remarkable!
The closer you moved to the heart of the city, the darker and denser became the substance and mood. Here there were structures made of stone, buildings crammed against buildings, rising, looming. Each one appeared in competition to see which could shout the loudest, which could display the most grotesque facade. Disturbing images of violence and savagery abounded, some standing before the buildings as hideous, individual figures of stone, and others carved to massive heights right into the rough faces of the cold, sharp-edged edifices.
We wove our way down dirt back streets and paved main thoroughfares until arriving in the plaza that marked the center of the city. Lofty government buildings surrounded this plaza, which was a square, stone-paved expanse of considerable size.
My neck craned to take in all these marvels. I felt a small embarrassment over my ignorance that this surprisingly complex world existed outside my own. The Spood appeared advanced well beyond the simple realities of my own tribal society. Still, a culture as sophisticated as this being so vain and cruel I could not reconcile. What had warped them to such a degree?
Our two vehicles drove through the plaza and down a side street, coming to a halt before a grim, hulking mass. The building was of solid construction and soulless, with a dull gray facade studded with barred sentals and tiny square portholes. Similar buildings lined both sides of the street, and I saw other rolling platforms pulling up before each. We disembarked, and soldiers led us up the wide steps of the building, through an archway and into the coolness of the structure’s interior.
Our contingent of Creet guards escorted us down a short hallway and into an expansive, circular room where pillars of stone supported a high ceiling that seemed formed from a single rock slab. Creet soldiers, priests, and others mingled, some sitting on stone benches, others standing and conversing in small groups. Several looked over as we entered, and then went back to their business.
Evenly spaced, narrow stairwells branched off the oval room and we climbed one to the next level. The stairwell opened onto a wide hallway lined with cells. A guard unlatched and then swung open a heavy wooden door that had a small opening at eye level spaced with vertical metal bars. The guard pushed the ten of us inside. The door shut behind us and the metal latch locked into place.
The room was gloomy, surprisingly spacious, and already occupied. Men, women, and children, all garbed in standard slave gray, showed curiosity over the newcomers. Thirty pairs of eyes offered th
eir naked scrutiny, which soon faded when they detected no familiar face. The room was high ceilinged and had four curious portholes along one wall about shoulder level. Higher up, and inaccessible, were two larger sentals where the dismal light entered. Both of those openings sported metal bars and lacked the see-through material known as sheek. Filthy straw covered the floor and slop buckets defiled the four corners.
The stench was nauseating, at least to ones who had only recently been walking freely in the fresh outdoor air. I grabbed Lillatta and made for the porthole side of the cell, where we found a space to stand midway between two of the offensive buckets. I put my eye to one of the apertures.
It was narrow, not more than two spread hands in width and height. The square hole extended through the thick wall to the outside. The restricted view revealed what seemed to be the bland side of a government building. Fresh air blew through the opening and it felt wonderful on my face. The portholes were air vents, and without them we would all soon suffocate from the heat and smell.
I looked around the room. The misery was palpable. This place was a hole unfit for the lowest animal. As I perused the wretchedness of the room, my fondest wish was for every last Spood to go straight to Fuld. I could imagine no more fitting an end than for all of them to drown forever in its black waters.
I gave Lillatta a turn at the porthole and she was grateful for the air. Then we found a moderately unsoiled patch of straw along the wall and sat down to talk. As we got comfortable, the room door opened again and guards forced another group of captives inside. These were all women and several were Sakita. I knew each of them, but that didn’t prevent them from burning holes in me when they noticed my presence. I would deal with that awkwardness later. For now, I simply wanted to get the details of Lillatta’s capture. She had seen the Sakitan women enter the room, but I persuaded her not to go to them until we finished our talk.
“Tell me everything, from the beginning,” I encouraged.
Lillatta’s confidence that she was safe with me had grown, and I sensed her need to unburden herself of the dreadful events that had occurred. My question caused her to look directly into my eyes, and it disturbed me to witness such a profound sadness and pain in hers.
“First, Sanny, I want to tell you how sorry I am over what I did to you. It gnaws at me every single day, and I just can’t stand myself for doing that.”
“Let it go, Lil. I understood and forgave you long ago. Put it in the past and let’s start over.”
Lillatta nodded, grateful for the words. Then, she told me the story of the Spood invasion.
“It was awful, Sanny. It was less than three months after you were—umm, sorry, I mean after you left camp. It was night and we were all asleep. The Creet soldiers just rode in without warning and attacked us in our tents.”
Lillatta took a deep breath and then another.
“Semral tried his best to rally the men, but it was already too late. I saw three of them cut down Barkor and his wife. He was too drunk to put up much of a fight. Semral bested two or three of them with his spear, but then someone struck him on the head and I saw him fall. I don’t know what happened to him after that. I grabbed a rik-ta and ran over to help but a droove burst out of the dark and knocked me down. I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew I was waking up in a grassy area some distance outside our encampment. There were only women and children there because the Spood had separated us from the men. They held us there for a couple of days. It was there that I—that I—”
Lillatta stopped speaking, put her face in her hands and unexpectedly began to sob. At once, I reached out a comforting hand. As I touched her shoulder, her head snapped up.
“They killed him, San. They killed Kalor!” She began wailing and her body shook as tears pushed out to form wet stains on her tunic. I pulled her to me and held her trembling body in a tight embrace.
“It’s all right, Lil,” I soothed. “I’m here.”
Lillatta’s words had stunned me, and it took me a while to process the disturbing news. Kalor, dead? I could not even comprehend the possibility. Lillatta and Kalor had been together since well before my banishment. They had been inseparable. I could not imagine the cruel depths of anguish, the bitter grief Lillatta must be experiencing, as Kalor had been her entire world. How was it she hadn’t collapsed into a total emotional wreck long before now? Obviously, she had been holding everything in, for now all the emotion, all the sorrow and pain were flooding out of her. I was just grateful Ra-ta had allowed me to be here when she needed me.
“Go ahead and cry, Lil. Let it all out.”
She held onto me as if I were her only remaining link to an ordered world. In time her trembling and sobs subsided. She loosened her hold and sat back, using the back of her hand to wipe at her runny nose and eyes.
“I’m sorry, San. I’m such a mess.”
“No, don’t say that. You’re not. You’ve been through a horrible ordeal, but you are showing remarkable strength . . . I’m proud of you. When you feel up to it, you can tell me the rest of what happened, but only if you want to. For now, why don’t you just lie back and get some rest.”
“No, I want to tell you,” Lillatta said. “I’m all right.”
After a few moments, she had regained her composure, and she proceeded to tell me the remaining details of the troubling story.
“You know what Kalor was like, San. He was not one to just stand by and allow the Spood to take us. He tried to organize a revolt. They said he tried to rally the others in the ceremonial tent where they were keeping the men. He was trying to keep it secret from the Spood, but word got out. When they came for him, he broke free and escaped, and they—they chased him down with a droove and they—”
Lillatta stopped. She would not say the words. Then, her face screwed up with anger.
“I swear! I’ll kill that Bratar if I ever find him!” She spat on the straw floor.
My ears heard but my brain took a few seconds to catch up.
“Bratar? What does Bratar have to do with this?” I asked.
“He told the Spood about Kalor’s plan. He’s a traitor. He betrayed us!”
Then Lillatta reddened, realizing she should be the last person to accuse another of betrayal. I said nothing. That was all in the past and no longer concerned me.
My thoughts were instead on Bratar. Being a coward was bad enough, but a traitor too? What would cause a person to turn against his tribe, his family? How could anyone do that and still live with himself?
Lillatta was about to continue, but I felt it time I told her something, something I should have told her long ago. Speaking from an emotional place has always been hard for me, but I would not shirk it now. I reached out my hands to grasp hers. With a puzzled expression, she faced me as I spoke.
“I am so sorry Lil, about Kalor. He was a good person and I really admired him. I want you to know that even though I never said so, I thought he was perfect for you. It might have seemed at times I was avoiding you both and was pushing you away from me, but that was never the case. I always wished only for your happiness and thought my father’s path for me was not a safe one for you. I had hoped you and Kalor would be free of it and have a long and joyous life together. I am so sorry it did not turn out that way.”
Lillatta’s eyes dampened again.
“Thank you, Sanny, for saying that. It means a lot to me.”
I embraced her again in an emotional hug. When we separated and both of us had composed ourselves, I asked, “Can you tell me what became of Satu and Pilkin?”
Lillatta did not respond right away. She looked down at the dirty straw a moment before turning her face back to mine.
“It was a terrible thing, San. There was this man in charge, a priest with red hair who—”
“Wait. What? A redheaded priest?”
My mind reeled. Could this possibly be the priest
from the sperza?
“Was this man fat?” I asked.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I think I’ve met the man. If it’s the same one, then I killed one of his soldiers.”
Lillatta’s eyes broadened and her face reflected a level of shock I had never witnessed before. She looked at me as if seeing a stranger. I could see how shaken she was by my words, by my admitting to such an act, to having killed a man. She sat in silence for a moment. Then, her expression changed.
“Good! You should have killed that fat man, too. You don’t know what terrible things these people do.”
In truth, I did. I had seen enough evidence, even personally witnessing the cruelty of the redheaded priest and his soldiers. Yet how could the murderous fat man have been in two separate places? Thinking about it, I realized the time framework would have allowed for it. It was possible for him to have been at both the sperza and terrorizing our lands during that period—but why? Lillatta cleared it up for me.
“The fat priest didn’t stay long. I overheard him telling one of the Creet that superiors had summoned him to oversee the building of something, but that he would return once that got underway.
“He’s evil,” Lillatta continued. “He had a grottis built—do you know what that is?”
I told her I did.
“The priest asked who the shaman was. Pilkin wasn’t going to admit he was our medicine man, but then Bratar pointed him out. Bratar is working with the Spood now. He’s a soldier in their ranks.”
I shook my head in disbelief. A Spood soldier? The Spood look upon others as inferiors. Why would they allow Bratar, the most inferior of them all, to become one of them? They must be insane.
“Pilkin was mad as fuld, but he could do nothing,” Lillatta continued. “They wanted to make an example of the spiritual leaders of the people they conquered, to show that their god was more powerful. They tied him to that grottis and then they. . . It was so. . .”
The image must have been horrifying, for Lillatta hid her face in her hands again, holding them over her eyes for a few moments before sliding them down past her cheeks.
“They tortured him, Sanny. They threw things at him and he screamed. It was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen! He suffered terribly before he died. I was sick.”
The fat man had to die. I vowed that if I ever got out of here I would see to it personally.
Lillatta finished her story.
“They built ten of them.”
“Ten? What possible reason was there to build ten?”
“For Pilkin’s six apprentices and a few others, that’s who they were for.”
“And what about Satu?”
Lillatta looked away and I feared what she was about to say.
“Bratar pointed him out to the priest,” she said in a low voice. “They don’t like cripples.”
Anger always resides in me and I try to keep it in check, but it has to have space. Now it was squeezing into too tight places and that was dangerous. I felt there was no room for anymore and yet more kept coming, with no means to dump what was already in me.
I had been keeping an eye on two of our male cellmates, both of whom had been in the room when the newcomers arrived. They were talking to Miras, the Sakita woman I had first spotted in Lillatta’s caravan. I could tell by Miras’ body language that she was uncomfortable with their conversation. Then, one of the men grabbed her arm and the other touched her hair.
I leaped up, causing Lillatta to jump. I marched across the room.
“Are these men bothering you, Miras?” I asked.
The two men, one who was about twenty and the other older, glanced over at me with undisguised irritation. After he got a good look at me, the younger one leered.
“We can bother you instead, if you like.”
His companion laughed.
I ignored them and spoke to the obviously frightened Miras.
“Are these men bothering you?”
She gave a barely perceptible nod. The young man did not appreciate my interference.
“You better get out of here, little girl,” he threatened. “Or I can’t be responsible for what happens to you.”
They were both standing directly in front of me now, the older one grinning.
“Let’s show her what we do to those who don’t mind their place,” he suggested.
I was aware of the dead silence in the room. None of the men watching seemed inclined to intervene.
“Which one of you is the stupid one?” I asked.
They stared at me dully, caught off guard by the unusual question.
“Well, don’t answer that, because I already know. Sorry to disappoint. I know each of you wanted to claim it, but I’m afraid it’s a tie. You’re both stupid.”
The young one cursed and in a bellowing rage lunged forward, swinging his fist to crack my face. I curved out of its path and countered with a furious fist to his stomach. He bent over with an audible grunt and fell straight to the floor. The other came in with a wild attack, swinging one arm and then the other. I avoided both and punched him hard in the nose. He cried out and put his hands to the broken flesh as blood seeped out between his fingers.
The younger one, now crazed with fury, had gotten back up and had raised his fist to hammer down hard upon my head. The anger in me had found an outlet and I was eager for the fray. I blocked the man’s downward thrust and then gave him a sharp chop across the throat. He gasped and choked. I grabbed his left arm and spun him around, then shoved his face hard into the wall. I cranked his arm up his back until he screamed in agony.
“I could break your arm with one more little push,” I told him. “And do you know what would happen if the Spood found out you had a broken arm? They would kill you. So, do you want a broken arm?”
“No, don’t, please,” the man pleaded.
A scuffling sound and a thump sounded behind me. I turned my head to see the other man lying on the floor, out cold. Lillatta stood over him with a wicked grin on her face.
“He tried to take advantage while your back was turned. I thought he might want to take a little nap,” she said in explanation.
It was good to see the old, feisty, humorous Lillatta back. I had missed her.
I turned back to the whimpering man, gave a savage crank to his already distressed arm, and then told him, “You are going to sit down, shut up, and not so much as think about bothering these women ever again.” Then I released him.
The man turned and rubbed his bruised arm. He glared at me, full of angry resentment and said, “You’re craz—”
He saw my look and thought better of finishing his comment, and then he hurriedly moved off to find a place to sit far from my presence.
As I made my way back to Lillatta, I noticed the stunned expressions and dropped jaws of the men in the cell. I also detected smiles. These were mostly on the faces of the women, and as I proceeded across the cell, I became aware that they were directing those smiles at me. Even the Sakitan women were smiling, and that astonished.
Miras approached. There was no hint of disapproval from her Sakita companions as she stood before me, meeting my eyes with hers.
“Thank you . . . Sanyel.”
She had spoken my name. I knew it had to have been difficult for her, for banishment encourages the severing of all connections forever, and that includes never speaking the name of the banished. Miras was making a deliberate effort to reconnect, and by saying my name she was telling me I was no longer invisible to her. Only Lillatta had dared speak my name until now, and that was probably because she didn’t know any better—or, she didn’t care.
I had no opportunity to respond to Miras, for the sound of the door unlatching drew our attention. It had been but a couple of hours since our incarceration. Now, the guards wanted us out of the cell, down the stairs, and back out into the sunlight.
**
~~SIXTE
EN~~