by Samuel Fort
Chapter 6: Annasa Fiela
Fiela walked into the infirmary and found a nurse drawing blood from a boy, presumably Ardoon, in a small room with an elevated, padded chair. At Ben’s direction, the Ardoon at Steepleguard were to be immunized against Cage’s disease, which had a staggering mortality rate. Because the disease was engineered to bypass the Nisirtu, it was possible to analyze an Ardoon’s DNA and develop a customized vaccination that tricked the disease into thinking the potential victim was Nisirtu. It was a painstaking process and the laboratory beneath Steepleguard had limited resources, and immunizing the children was the first priority.
“Yes, Annasa?” inquired the nurse, applying a tiny bandage to the boy’s arm and sending him on his way. She placed a vial of blood in a nearby stand.
“I need a salve or lotion for cuts, to prevent infection and promote healing. Also, painkillers. Narcotics, preferably.”
The nurse, looking concerned, said, “Do you want to speak to a doctor, Annasa?”
The Peth shook her head. “No.”
Frowning, the nurse assessed the young queen. She certainly didn’t appear to be injured or in pain, and there had been no recent skirmishes with outsiders. She said, “Narcotics are carefully monitored, Annasa. May I ask why you need them?”
“No.”
The woman stared at her, having not expected such a curt answer. “Annasa, I can give you the salve but not the narcotics, not without a physician’s approval.”
Fiela gave the woman a withering look before turning and closing the door of the little room behind her. She moved toward the nurse, stopping just a few inches away. The other woman tried to retreat gracefully yet found herself blocked by the chair used to draw blood. Having nowhere else to go, she sat.
“What is your name?” asked Fiela, placing her hands on either side of the chair and leaning forward.
“Ruth,” said the woman, avoiding the Peth’s stare.
“Ruth,” said Fiela, “I am not asking you for a favor. I am commanding you to give me what is mine. You are my guest here. I played in this cave as a child. This infirmary was built by my uncle, the Great Sage. The house above was the summer home of my sister’s father, King Sargon. It is now the home to King Sargon the Second, my husband. I am the Supreme Lord of the Peth-Allati and your queen. Your ethics have no role in your interactions with me, Ruth. Do you know what the penalty is for willfully disobeying a sovereign?”
The woman nodded.
Fiela stood erect and said more cordially, “Do not worry about the records. You will not be held accountable for any missing items. I would not have a loyal subject penalized for my actions. Are you a loyal subject, Ruth?”
“Yes, Annasa,” said the nurse, still nodding.
The Peth smiled. “Good. Someday you might find that you need my assistance, and if you do, as a loyal subject, you should not hesitate to ask for it. For now, I must insist you obtain the items I described to you, and forget this discussion.”
“As you say, Annasa,” blurted the woman, moving hurriedly for the door.
When she was gone, Fiela slumped against the wall and breathed out. She did not enjoy this. Though she had no qualms about killing, it was against her nature to simply terrorize others. If only she was allowed to bring weapons into the infirmary! The mere display of her knives always had the desired affect and made such dramas unnecessary. But Ben had prohibited her from displaying her weapons in the open and Lilian had sided with him, saying it was unladylike for a queen to “run around the place like a Central American mercenary.”
Fortunately, Fiela had witnessed many of her elder sister’s interactions with obstinate nobles and found that it was not difficult to mimic the woman, when necessary. When dealing with others who were not cooperative and threat of violence was not an option, Fiela’s fallback was always, “What would my sister do?”
The door opened and Ruth appeared, a small plastic bag dangling at her side.
“Hi there,” said Ben, sitting, as was often the case, behind his desk, a book in hand. It was evening, and a small desk lamp illuminated the man’s study in various shades of gold. He took off his reading glasses and said, “What’s up?”
Fiela wandered over to him. She was wearing a pair of red sweatpants and a too-large tee shirt with the faded logo of a dead football team on it. She loved football jerseys and shirts, though she admitted to having no idea how football was played. Her red hair was tied into a ponytail. As always when inside, she was barefoot. The girl’s casual wear and bare feet when walking amongst the citizens and nobles was a near-constant source of irritation to Lilian.
“Rough day,” the young queen said, plopping into the man’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the cheek and buried her face in his shoulder.
Ben ran a hand up and down her back. How rough could it have been? She was a queen. No one told her to do anything, except Lilian. He assumed she was shooting for a pity snuggle. Throwing his book on the desk, he complied. “Cabin fever?”
She pulled back and said, “Yeah. We’ve been stuck inside this place for weeks. Lilian loves it because she gets to play kingmaker all day, and you’ve got your tablets. What am I supposed to do? I can’t even train. It’s been snowing for days!”
“Did you ask Lilian? She might have an idea or two.”
Fiela studied her toes, saying, “She says I should get a pedicure. I just had one two weeks ago! And a manicure, and my hair done. I even got fitted for new clothes by the dressmaker - clothes that Sister knows I won’t wear. I am living her life, not mine.” Exhaling loudly, she said, “Winter sucks, Mutu.”
“Do you want to go riding?”
One of Ridley’s legacies at Steepleguard were a half dozen mammoth, heated stables, each of which held over a hundred horses, with provisions to get them through the winter. All Peth, Ben learned, were capable riders, in part because their legacy - Peth-Allati meant “Shadow horseman” - required them to be. Though they obviously never rode horses into combat before the collapse, they were required to learn to ride as a matter of tradition.
Oddly, Lilian, who was not Peth, was easily the best rider at Steepleguard, having been raised competing in professional equestrian events her entire life. She was sufficiently proud of her accomplishments that she kept a riding crop on display in her private quarters. She and Disparthian had spent most of the winter teaching Ben how to ride, and while he was no expert, he felt good about his progress.
“No,” Fiela answered, “not unless you do. I just want to sit here in your lap and bitch. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” He waited a moment before saying, “It’s unfortunate you don’t want to ride and you hate winter so much.”
Hearing something in his voice, the girl popped upright. “Why?”
“It just is.”
She grinned and slapped him on the chest. “Mutu, why?”
Shrugging, he said, “I was thinking - at least until a moment ago - about taking Peth to a town east of Denver.”
The girl’s violet eyes widened in excitement. “Why?”
“The tablets I’m studying include a list of locations. If Thal and I are right, one of those locations is in the vicinity of a town called Cash. I want to see what’s there. Might be nothing. Aside from that, I thought it might just be good to get some fresh air.”
The girl covered her mouth before she squealed her delight. “Yes!” she yelled.
“But you said-”
“Oh, Mutu, never mind what I said!” She lifted herself up and straddled the man with her knees, pressing her body against his. “Do you think we might get into a fight?”
“I hope not,” he answered honestly, her perfume feeling his nostrils and feeling her breasts pressing hard into his chest. Seeing the brightness in her eyes dim, he added, “The outposts have reported gunfire from inside the ruins of Denver. We’re not going to run into an army but there might be gangs.”
“Gangs are okay,” the Peth said, as
if making a concession. “When shall we leave? I’ll let the Reds and Purps know.”
“Reds” referred to the Red Guard, an elite squadron of Peth horsemen that served as Fiela’s traveling escort. It was composed primarily of Ordunas who were fiercely loyal to the red-headed queen. Ben was guarded by the Purple Guard, better known as “the Purps” or “the King’s Squadron.” It had been Lord Disparthian’s personal guard prior to the apocalypse, and Disparthian still led the force. Lilian’s guard, rarely used, was the Golden Guard, referred to as both “the Golds” and “the Lilies.” Those Peth were sworn to the Sargon family, of which Lilian was the sole surviving blood member.
The three squadrons were a reminder that even the remote and relatively small fortress of Steepleguard was not immune to politics. Ben’s marriage to both Lilian and Fiela kept the competing factions at peace but that didn’t mean citizens always played well together.
“We’ll go the day after tomorrow,” Ben answered.
“I have to sharpen my knives!” the girl said gleefully and jumping from his lap.
“Fiela, don’t get your hopes up!” her husband yelled, but she was gone.
