The Monstrous Citadel

by Mirah Bolender

  “Excuse me, Miss Darcy? Keya said you usually have breakfast in here. Can we do the same?”

  “- - - can go to the dining car without me,” Okane mumbled, but she didn’t dignify that with a response.

  “The dining car is pretty high-class, and it was nice being there yesterday, but I’d feel more comfortable here.”

  Darcy hummed. From a closet she procured two cans, which she opened and set on top of the little oven. She tapped its side and the flames roared with more vigor. She held up one hand with the fingers spread: five minutes. The little oven warmed the food, and Darcy handed them large spoons. Okane crawled out of his blanket cocoon and they sat on the edge of the mattress to eat out of the cans.

  “Thanks,” said Laura, scooping some of the food into her mouth. The unidentifiable contents tasted bland and had a weird texture, but she wasn’t about to complain. “I don’t want to ask for too much, but could we leave this car, too? I’d like to walk around. Can we go a few cars down and back?”

  Darcy smiled again and shrugged. Clearly she didn’t care.

  Shortly after finishing, they slinked outside.

  “Are - - - looking into something?” Okane asked, as they crossed over to the next carriage.

  “We’ve got to get off soon, whether the train stops or not.”

  “That’s why - - - asked about the hobos?”

  “Exactly. We just need to find somewhere safe to get off.”

  “Is there even a place where the train gets slow enough?”

  “They’ve got to go slow around Rex, right? Even if they haven’t ripped up the tracks there yet, they still could before we get there. Nobody wants a train to go full-speed into damaged tracks, especially if that means putting passengers at risk of getting captured.”

  “Captured?” Okane echoed as they stepped through the narrow aisle. “I thought they already had all the slaves they need from attacking satellite towns.”

  “They work people hard enough to kill them. There’s never a safe time to interact with Rex.”

  If they were captured, there would be no rescue. Rex’s forces could fight off any attempt. Satellite citizens sometimes committed suicide over facing Rex at all.

  Okane lapsed into silence. Hopefully he wasn’t worrying himself sick over what they’d be running into. Laura herself refused to think about it. Instead she focused entirely on finding the optimal escape route for the next phase of their ramshackle plan. They had to double back all the way to the car they’d hid in earlier before spotting one of the side doors unblocked.

  “I guess this will be our exit, too,” Laura sighed, rapping the door with her knuckles. “There was a ladder next to it. We can use that like the hobos do.”

  “How will we know when to do it?”

  “We can ask how long it’ll be until we pass Rex. They’ve got enough on their plates, so they shouldn’t be suspicious. Let’s ask them now.”

  They trekked back the way they’d come, and ran into Keya on the way. She stood on the back of the Sweeper car, her expression severe. The door behind her was open and Felix peered around her, curious but reluctant to come all the way out. Laura paused in the other doorway. Why did she have a bad feeling?

  “Something wrong?” she called over the sound of the train.

  “Yeah. Yeah, there is.” Keya’s eyes were narrowed, angry. “How about you come back with us?”

  “Come where, exactly?” Laura clenched her hands.

  “Back up the train. The others would love to discuss a little … issue that came up in a message from the gatehouse.”

  “What kind of message?” Laura snapped, but she had a good idea what it was.

  “You know very well,” Keya snarled. “Two Sweepers collaborated with mobs and let them steal all the Gin? Attacking your head is some backstabbing bullshit, but Gin? You’ve abandoned an entire city!”

  “That’s wrong!” Laura argued. “We didn’t steal any—”

  “What did the mobs promise you for that?” Keya spat. “Money and a comfy place in Litus? Or maybe you’re just running out of shame?” She pulled out her gun and gestured sharply. “Get over here! I’ve got no intention of playing nice with traitors!”

  Laura took a quick glance at Okane, who jerked his head back toward their presumed escape.

  “Sorry, no,” she said quickly, slamming the door shut. She heard a muffled curse, but was already dashing away after Okane. They fled to their selected car. While Okane moved to open the side door, Laura yanked on the stacked cargo. She dislodged some of the larger crates, and sidestepped quickly as they came crashing down in front of the door. Hopefully that would buy them time. The side door opened with a pop, a rumbling, and a crash. Cold air whipped into the car, and the flatlands beyond became visible. There, silhouetted against the pale blue sky, was a five-tiered city with distinctive spiked towers: Rex.

  “Ladies first!” Okane shouted.

  Laura scowled but hurried over anyway. She stuck her head out and squinted. Despite the wind it seemed the train had slowed. She reached out for the ladder, caught hold with one hand before sliding one leg out to join it. After a moment she heard a muttered “Here,” and Okane took her by the other arm, trying to support her.

  “Don’t fall,” he pleaded.

  Steeling herself, Laura swung fully onto the ladder. She felt some resistance, but she made it and clung there a moment to collect herself. Inside the car, Keya hammered away at the door. Fast. She had to be fast. Laura slid farther down on the ladder and took her feet off. The ground flashed by fast enough that it took some time before she did more than skip over it, but she managed to start running, enough to somewhat match the speed. She looked up, elated, but felt the blood drain from her face. Keya might have been pounding on the door, but Felix had leaned out to look down the side of the train. He pointed his own gun at her, but he’d frozen. He winced, possibly at some command Laura couldn’t hear over the train, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the ground feet away from her, and with a squeak of surprise and fear, Laura lost her grip on the rungs. She stumbled and threw herself away from the train, afraid of getting caught under the wheels, and crashed to the ground. She remained there, dazed, before her mind caught up and she scrambled to her feet. While slower than usual, the train had still traveled far beyond her. She ran, ignoring the sting from her fall.

  “Okane!” she yelled.

  Had he been caught? She felt a brief stab of horror before someone leapt from the train. Okane hit the ground and rolled head over heels before coming to a flailing stop. No one came after them.

  “Are you okay?” Laura panted, coming to a stop beside him.

  Pops and snaps issued from his prone form, and that coupled with the fact that his clothes now looked little better than rags made her worry even more. To her relief, he stirred and pushed himself over, lying on his back instead to blink, stupefied, at the sky. After a moment he wheezed, “Ow.”

  “Ow is right! Didn’t you hear Felix talking earlier? People die jumping! What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I’d get shot otherwise.”

  Laura made a strangled sound, but she wasn’t as much irritated as concerned. The popping lessened but continued nonetheless. What was his magic working so hard on?

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Passable,” he grunted, sitting up. He looked mournfully after the train as it shrank into the distance. “Now what do we do?”

  “I suppose we go to Rex.” Laura gestured at the city, and he grimaced at the sight.

  “- - - think they’ll just let us march right in?”

  “If we can jump off a train, we can walk into a city,” said Laura.

  Okane blinked at her, then groaned and flopped right back over.

  “We stay out here and we’re prey for felin or Rexian troops. We try to go back to some friendly city and we’ll either die on the way or get arrested as soon as we get through the doors. Have you got any better ideas?”

  He
pursed his lips, looking tempted to say something nasty in retort, but he held it in and heaved himself up once more, faster this time. “Fine. But I hope - - - know I can’t be sneaky like this.” He tugged at loose scraps of his shirt.

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  He said nothing, but the look on his face conveyed more than enough doubt.

  They hobbled in the direction of the city. Each had a collection of scrapes and bruises, though while Okane had far more, Laura knew hers would remain longer; he always healed abnormally fast. He leaned on her in the beginning, one of his ankles unable to bear his weight properly, but as time went on the crackling sounds dissipated and he switched to limping independently.

  Truth be told, Laura had no idea how to get into an enemy city. She’d spoken with bravado, all the while thinking desperately how they could sneak in. The old film played in the back of her mind, ten identical women and the whole of Rex looking like a single brood. The more she looked at Okane the more he looked distressingly not-Zyran, even beyond the clothes, and she was hardly better. They’d stand out like sore thumbs. Perhaps they could pose as Rangers? No, Rex wouldn’t tolerate outsiders of any kind, and their Sweepers served every Ranger purpose for them. Slaves, then, from the fields outside? She racked her brain for stories or excuses and found nothing. She came to the unsurprising conclusion that she was a terrible schemer.

  Every step brought them closer, and she grew more nervous. They reached the surrounding farmland around noon, and Laura chose to walk on the main road. If they at least acted as if they belonged, people would be less suspicious. It wasn’t as if everyone kept their clothes in good shape in the agricultural areas, even in cities that cared about their well-being; her mother being a prime example. Okane had misgivings, but it turned out to be a good idea. Forty minutes after they started on the gravelly road, a large truck trundled up beside them. The driver asked who they were and what they were up to. Laura made up a story about them being farmworkers who’d missed an earlier car and were desperate to get into the city (“No, really, my friend here just took a nasty spill off some equipment!”). For what? Well, the Carmen film had mentioned a weekly check-in with food vendors inside the walls. This was apparently a reality, because the driver fell for it hook, line, and sinker. They clambered in and settled themselves among bags of supplies, and the truck drove on. The driver chatted to them about one thing or another, mostly farm-related. Laura replied with what little she knew from her mother’s experiences tending fields, but to her relief the man was more inclined to talk their ears off than get meaningful input. As they approached the walls and the towers soared above their heads, Laura’s confidence faltered.

  “Um,” she piped up, “sorry, sir, but I think we forgot our papers. They might not let us in.”

  “No worries there!” The driver laughed. “Usually you’d be in trouble, but the past few days they haven’t cared. Not so many soldiers at checkpoints, not so strict. They’re all going south. They don’t care about a couple of farmers.”

  “Do you know what they’re gathering south for?” Laura asked.

  “Some kind of attack, I imagine. I’m looking forward to it! When our boys go out to battle, they bring back laborers. The more riffraff like you they catch, the better off we are. Just imagine, a whole new platoon of workers! We could use them for the uzel harvest. I’ve never liked those thorns, and I doubt you will either.”

  True to the driver’s words, only one soldier stood at the entrance. The soldier checked the vehicle registration and cast a suspicious look at the two passengers, but after assurance that they were faithful Rexian servants, he let them through without complaint. The driver let them off in a market in the lowest Quarter, where stalls lined a street overflowing with produce and shoppers.

  “Good luck finding your group,” he’d called after them, and Laura thanked him. Okane didn’t say a word until they’d passed a large display of rice bags.

  “We really will be slaves if they figure out what we are,” he said.

  “So we don’t get caught.”

  Easier said than done. Besides, if they were caught trying to steal something as valuable as Gin, there might be something worse than farm labor in store.

  The streets of Rex were familiar and yet not. Just as in the film, every road and building was in pristine condition or left to affectionate but well-tended weathering, as if it were the Second Quarter instead of the Fifth. People bustled along sidewalks, many headed for the market but others moving away and deeper into the city while automobiles—darker and boxier, leaning toward a military look—cruised by in the streets, as many as would be expected on the Tiber Circuit. Every building united in common architectural styles, and every road bore a clear marker. It was a sort of quaintly unified thing, the kind that screamed that no one had dared to make it their own; false like a film-set façade with nothing inside. A few buildings had paint scrawled on the sides and in alleys, which might’ve been graffiti, but all were strategically placed with slogans emblazoned across patriotic imagery.

  HAIL, CITY OF KINGS! one declared, red lettering above a dramatically rendered kingshound. ONWARD TO THE FOUR CORNERS, RAISE PURE BLOOD! Others echoed it: praise to the city, support the destined advance, the chosen people meant to overcome the rest and become the pinnacle of human potential. One that caught Laura’s attention in particular was a splash of paint following the ramp up to the next Quarter: a horde of men in uniform and shaved heads, with identical features save for numbers on their faces. All seemed posed but lifeless, and Laura felt distinctly uncomfortable at the sight.

  “At least we’ll know a Sweeper when we see them,” said Okane, eyes lingering on the propaganda. “Think we can just follow one back to their headquarters?”

  “Maybe. I don’t think we should do anything for today, though. We’re not in the best shape.”

  “Where should we go, then?” He looked miserably at the sky as if it might give him answers. “Do - - - have money for a hotel on hand? Money for food?”

  “Didn’t really think of that,” she admitted.

  “We didn’t think anything out,” he agreed.

  “Let’s focus on the job for now. Find out where the Sweeper offices are and scope things out, then back off and find somewhere to crash. I have a little bit of money, so maybe we can beg help from a cheaper hotel?”

  A haphazard plan was better than none at all, so Okane nodded.

  They couldn’t find any Sweepers whatsoever.

  Laura thought that with the breeding program they’d run into one at every turn, but the Sweepers must’ve gathered outside after all. Despite the clear street signs they found no maps, forcing them to ask for directions. While not identical, the people here had a very distinct look. Every single one was white, light-haired, high-cheek-boned, and without so much as a blemish. But despite the flush of life in their faces, they looked even less human than Grim. These people turned up their noses at the sight of them (Okane in particular), and gave little help. Some ignored them entirely, looking the opposite way and hurrying past as Laura called out, while others made snide comments on their state of dress and general position in life. Three persons in total spoke to them like actual people, and all three answered along the same lines.

  “Sweepers? Oh, you don’t go to them. You call and they have an officer come by. It’s not proper to be in the company of a Sweeper. They’re violent and stupid. Bad bloodlines, you know. They’re only good for one thing and it’s not conversation. No one really knows where their offices are, but if you go to the police they’ll take care of you. Shall I point you to the nearest station?”

  By the time they reached a bookshop in the Third Quarter, Laura frothed with rage.

  “Forget their Sweepers, the civilians here are hell to deal with,” she growled, eyeing the few pedestrians on this street. “And the graffiti rattles me!”

  “It’s not all going to be easy,” said Okane.

  “But getting any information is li
ke pulling teeth.”

  “Maybe if - - - tried smiling a little more?” He pointed at his own face. “Maybe they’re getting scared at this point.”

  “I’m that bad?”

  “A little.”

  She took a deep breath in, held it, and exhaled, trying to force her features back into calm. She held this attempted serenity for a minute before glancing at him for approval. Okane’s shoulders gave a little bounce and he shook his head in weary exasperation. Good enough. Laura turned to scope out the area, selecting a new target. A lone young woman ambled along the opposite side of the road, possibly a target for information. Better still, she wasn’t blond. No, if anything that darker skin and curled brown hair marked her as Kalu, not Zyran at all. Finally, a non-purist. Laura made a beeline for her.

  “Excuse me?” she called, sweetly as she could manage.

  The woman turned to look over her shoulder. Laura could only see half of her face, but that visible eye was strikingly brown. The intensity of the color made her stop short. Marvelous Magnum’s Deluxe Caramel, she thought dazedly, before realizing how ridiculous that sounded. The woman blinked, and her lips turned up in a very fake smile.

  “Hello. Something wrong?”

  Startled back to her senses, Laura shook her head quickly. “Oh, no! It’s just—would you happen to know where I can find the Rex Sweeper offices?”

  “Sweepers? Why would a young lady be looking for the Sweepers?”

  “Personal business.” Laura flashed a false smile of her own. “We just need some directions. Are you familiar with them?”

  “Depends on who’s asking.”

  “As I said, it’s personal.”

  “Oh, that really explains things. I’m so inclined to help.”

  Laura felt ready to snap. Okane tugged lightly at the sleeve of her coat and whispered, “We can just ask someone else.”

  The woman sneered. “Sounds like a giver-upper.”

  Of course, not even a non-purist here could be dependable. Laura sighed, yielding to Okane’s pleading. As they walked around her the woman pivoted to watch them, a mean smile on her face. “Two giver-uppers, then.”