by Ellias Quinn
Ansi shoved Dask’s foot away and went back to staring out of the holes. “I’m listening.”
“Fine. The plan is to pretend one of us is deathly sick. Coughing, crying, the works. When they send a doctor in, Khel knocks him out, gets whoever else is out there, and holds the door while we escape. Then we use the doctor as a hostage so they’ll let us go. Good plan, huh? Ansi, you said you were listening, so what do you—”
Ansi turned his back to the cell wall with a sharp intake of breath.
Dask looked at him. “You weren’t listening.”
“What’s going on?” Matil asked.
“It is she,” Ansi said.
She looked through an opening. “Who?”
“She—her—my…the Vima woman I told you about.”
“Oh!” Matil said. “Which one is she?”
Dask hopped up with a flutter of his wings. “Yeah, which one?”
“She has hair just the color of a horned beetle’s shiny shell…wings deep and soft…and she is wearing a skirt of cloud-purple petals.” He sighed and then realized Dask and Matil were both staring out of the cell. “Don’t look so obviously.”
“Hey!” Dask yelled. “You!” He pointed through the hole. “Yes, you!”
Ansi’s mouth fell into horrified rictus. “Alat!” He shook his head. “N-no! Bad!”
“Dask, be careful,” Matil said.
“Over here!” Dask winked at Matil and Khelya. “Relax, you two. It can’t hurt.”
The woman edged over with a suspicious look in her light green eyes. Her waist-length black hair shimmered in the low light, and her rounded petal wings were a dark magenta color.
“She’s here. Turn around, Ansi.”
Ansi clenched his eyes shut briefly before standing up and facing the woman, an unmistakable red creeping over his skin. “Elamys,” he stammered.
The woman gave him a sweet smile and spoke at length in a rough but melodic voice.
At the end, he winced. “Can’t hurt? Pah.”
“What is it? What did she say?” Dask smiled back at the woman.
“She is…polite. And now I see I judged the Vima wrongly. They aren’t merciless after all.” Ansi flicked his disdainful gaze at Dask. “She asked if we would prefer to be executed and fed to their rodents now…or on a festival day!”
The smile disappeared from Dask’s face. He threw his hands skyward. “Really?”
The woman tilted her head to the side and blinked benignly.
“Ask her name,” Matil said. “Ask her about the Vima. Hey, Dask, let’s wait over here.” She went to the far corner of the cell, where Khelya was still absorbed in her calculations.
Dask followed with a sympathetic glance at Ansi.
“You must not leave me alone!” Ansi whispered urgently, and then calmed himself down. “You can stand beside me, to show that I have influence.”
“Don’t be a butterfly,” Dask said. “We’re just a few steps away if you get too scared.”
“I’m not scared! She has threatened us and we shouldn’t provoke her further! I—”
The woman snapped at him and began to walk away. Ansi froze. He twitched. Dask looked ready to slap him.
“Lyko!” he burst out. Her retreating form halted and he followed the word with a stuttering sentence in his language.
After a pause, she came back. “Vima,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Alat,” he said, looking frustrated. “Sin mennin.” He pointed at himself. “Ansi.” He gestured toward her.
She regarded him with new curiosity. “Vin mennin Teres.”
“Teres,” Ansi repeated softly.
Both seemed unsure as they began a conversation. Matil and Dask watched Teres’s face carefully until Khelya looked up.
“I like the way they put this structure together,” she said, gesturing at the cell’s stacked blocks. Ansi’s exchange with the stranger got her attention and she lowered her voice. “What’s goin’ on?”
“She’s the Vima who caught Ansi’s eye,” Dask whispered, pointing at Teres. “Remember? If the dice are on our side, we’ll soon have a little lady desperate to save her true love. See, he needs to bond with her, keep her talking for a good long—”
Teres walked off with a casual flip of her hair.
Dask froze, and then he mouthed ‘time’ before turning to Ansi. The Eletsol looked like he was in a dream. “What did you do?” Dask said.
“She’s different than I had guessed,” Ansi said. “But even more wonderful…”
“Yeah? What’d you guys talk about? Flowers, right? You told her she looked like a nettle bush, huh?” Dask laughed acidly. “Bet she didn’t like that.”
Ansi sat down with his hands over his heart. “We mostly talked about the war between our clans.”
He whistled. “Oh, that’s romantic for sure. C’mon, smart guy, you’re supposed to make a girl feel good, not depressed.”
“No, she…I think she is planning something. I could see she dislikes what my sisters have done. She already knew who I am, so I told her what happened to me and that the Taina feel the same way.”
“You trusted her?” Dask said incredulously. “Just like that?”
“She has the same war-weariness and fear in her eyes that many of my alva show. When she heard my story, she became very surprised. Very cautious.” Ansi looked past Dask, out at the village. “Before she left, she said there were others.”
“Others?” Khelya tugged anxiously on the ends of her blonde hair. “What kinda others?”
“Have you noticed that there are few men and those in the village are young? Teres told me that my sister, Dag, uses the men for her army and personal guard, and the weak as her servants and workers. The rest of the Vima are sent to hunt and gather to support the clan. They used to be loyal to the blood of the chief, trusting that Vim Dag would lead them to prosperity as she said she would.
“Recently, she has started new wars and conquered peaceful neighbors, and many men have fallen in battle. She has thrown western Fainfal into chaos. I am reminded of the Watcher’s dreams. Alva are also dying every day building Dag’s city, and half of what the villagers produce must be given to her in offering. The Vima are tired and want their families back. There is much secret talk of rebellion.”
So that was what had happened to the village. Like Ansi, Matil gazed out of the cell and saw the bowed backs and heavy frowns on everyone who couldn’t be distracted by games or small talk.
Dask narrowed his eyes. “This is a situation we want to avoid. Teres isn’t trying to sign us up for a war, is she?”
“A war in the middle of a war…” Ansi said. “It’s troubling. But it may be a swift path to peace.”
“Can she get us out before it starts?” said Dask.
“She will come back tonight. I’ll ask her then.”
Chapter 11
Captive Thoughts
Dusk fell and torches were lit around the village. Matil had stretched out on the ground with her blanket as a pillow. Thoughts drifted into her head – uneasy, half-formed thoughts from which she retreated. Khelya sat against the wall next to her. Dask reclined on the other side of the cell, and Ansi sat quietly with a glance out of the cell now and then.
The cell door opened and a woman slid the dinner tray inside. Hope filled Matil when she saw who it was.
Ansi stood quickly. “Teres!”
Teres patted her throat, backed out of the cell, and shut the door. The tray once again held a single bowl, this time piled high with chopped flower stalks and yellow petals.
Dask picked up a handful of the salad and tossed it in his mouth. “Is your friend here to talk?” he said through his food.
“I don’t know,” Ansi said. “She wants us to be quiet.”
Teres appeared on the opposite side of the cell, w
here light from the torches didn’t reach. She whispered and Ansi crept over to listen.
“The local scouting parties are loyal to Vim Dag,” he relayed to the others in a low voice. “Though they are gone now, they always return without notice. That is why we must be alert.”
Dask crawled closer. “See if she can let us go.”
Ansi nodded and spoke to Teres. After her reply he turned back with an apologetic look. “She could help you leave the village, but you won’t avoid capture in Vima territory.” A few words from Teres changed his expression. “Wait, she has more to discuss.”
Ansi and Teres talked for a while – strategizing, he told them, though half the time the two Eletsol were laughing and smiling. At the end of their conversation, Teres gave a small bow to the prisoners and flew away.
“Kal,” Ansi said with a sigh. He turned to the other three. “She is gone.”
“We can see that,” Dask said.
“But she has a plan.”
Dask looked relieved. “Good. A plan that gets us out of here?”
“If all goes well,” Ansi said. “Teres told me of a plot to seize power from Dag. She and her brother, among others, have barely been able to hold back those who demand an uprising. She said they were waiting for the right time, when Dag is weakened somehow. But now, hearing that I am imprisoned may draw my sister out of her city.
“Teres will make it known that I am in this village awaiting judgment. She will also suggest that Dag attend a feast here in her honor – Dag should be quick to accept such flattery – and come to see me as well as you outsiders, since you are curiosities. Teres’s brother and other soldiers from this village will most likely be chosen as Dag’s escort on the journey. They share our desire for peace. Once in the village, Dag will be overwhelmed by her own guards…and on the same day, her city will be taken by the Vima who long for freedom.” He puffed out his chest briefly before becoming downcast. “May my father forgive me when I rise to the treetops.”
“When will they show up?” Matil said.
“Teres is sending someone now,” Ansi said. “I think Dag will come in the next couple of days.”
“A couple of days isn’t too bad,” said Dask. “As long as it works.”
* * *
“Ah, ben, cen,” Matil said.
“Ah, ben, cen,” Bechel’s small voice repeated.
She sat across from a toddler who had large eyes with deep red irises. Dark stems formed the walls of their playhouse, and the smell of roses floated around them. Father had sawed away the thorns until only smooth bumps were left.
“Chah, du, eh,” she continued.
Bechel bounced from side to side. “Chah, du, eh.”
“Yee, fen—”
A girl with ruffled black wings peeked into the playhouse. Her eyes were intensely blue. “Nychta! Bel!”
Bechel’s furrow of concentration lifted. “Arla!” He stood up, wobbling, and barreled into her. “Let’s play!”
Matil folded her arms. “We have to finish your letters. Mother said so.”
“Sit down, Bel,” Arla said sternly.
“Play!” Bechel protested.
“We can’t play yet.”
“You’re mean,” he said with a pout. “You’re as mean as my sister.”
“No, I’m meaner than her,” Arla said.
“What?” Matil gasped. “Nobody’s meaner than me.”
Arla laughed. “You’re lying. Not even Myrkhar?”
“Well, I guess he’s meaner than me,” said Matil.
“And Mr. Rochen?” Arla said.
“Oh, he’s definitely meaner than Myrkhar.”
“Misser Roken is meaner than Myrkhar,” Bechel sang.
Matil tried to cover her grin. “Shhh! Don’t let anyone hear that!”
* * *
Matil slept that night until Khelya, yawning, woke her for the next watch. She sat against the cell wall, alert and concealed where light from the torches didn’t reach. A painful thought flashed across her mind and she huddled closer to the wall, taking comfort in the shadow.
“Matil.”
Nat’s dark face appeared, made vague by time. No, Amacht. That was his real name, the name of the spy who had died saving Matil. He gazed up at her. “Run.”
“Do you know who you are?” Wings…purple eyes covered with a pale sheen, like a layer of ice… “You’re Nychta Olsta, too.”
Matil shook herself and pinched her ears until they hurt. It hadn’t happened for so long that she’d hoped it was over. When things were quiet like they were now, she supposed that she couldn’t hide the past from herself. She dried her wet eyes and sat up straight to watch the village twice as vigilantly.
A while later, there was noise at the gate. The watchmen were speaking with someone on the other side. As Matil looked, one of them flew up to Teres’s hut. The alva outside the gate raised their voices impatiently.
Teres left her hut and flittered over to the cell, black hair in disarray. “Saino,” she whispered loudly. “Saino!”
Matil climbed around Khelya to the wall. “What is it? Mi? Mi onla?”
“Dagin tevem Dag alat!” Teres waved her hands with frustration. “Ansi, saino!”
Matil located Ansi, who lay sleeping against the back wall. “Teres is here!” she said. “Something’s happening.”
He looked around, disoriented, before rushing to the cell wall. He and Teres began to talk urgently. “Wake the others,” he told Matil.
The commotion had already woken Dask, and Matil went to Khelya to use a combination of talking and shaking to get her at least half-awake. After the three gathered next to Ansi, Teres nodded and made for the gate.
Ansi turned with a determined expression. “Ten of Dag’s elite warriors are outside the gates. My sister is not with them. They’ve come to take us to her city.”
“What?” Khelya said. “Why?”
“Teres believes that when we arrived here, someone recognized me and took word to Dag,” Ansi said. “We have no choice but to go with them. Teres and her alva will travel ahead of us and prepare things in the city. What happens then is unknowable. We must do our best.”
Dask hit the wall with his hand. “We won’t be able to get out of a city. Have Teres sneak us out now. We can do more if we’re not locked up.”
“We don’t have time,” Ansi said.
“Get her over here.” He ran both hands through his hair. “I knew it, I knew it!”
“Trust Teres. Trust my alva. When the rebellion starts, they’ll see that there is a way out of the wrong that has been done, and they will follow it. As I did when you showed me a way.”
Dask shook his head. “It won’t—”
A group of burly men with orange designs covering their arms and legs filed into the village from the entry tunnel. They crossed the square, surrounded the cell, and leveled jagged, stone-tipped spears at the prisoners while one of the village women unlocked the door. She entered with a coil of cords and began to tie Ansi’s hands. Noticing the woman’s fearful look and feeling sorry for her, Matil held her hands out willingly to be tied.
Dask tensed up and his ears lowered like he was getting ready to fight.
“Dask, please,” Matil whispered.
His ears fell and he let the woman bind his hands. She finished tying the prisoners and blindfolded Ansi. Soon they left the village to the stares of alva who had come out to see what was going on.
Chapter 12
Workers Divided
They walked until morning, took a rest, and kept moving. Along the path, Vima Eletsol chopped and hauled hefty branches. By midday the prisoners could see in the distance a wooden wall so high that, even from where they stood on a ridge, nothing of the inside was visible. Trees stood outside the wall, their branches laden with stout houses and towers. As the group
came closer, the wall seemed to soar up like one of the massive trees beside it. Matil was in awe of how tall the unbroken planks were. It must have taken a hundred alva to handle them.
The group entered a sea of squalid huts and lean-tos just outside the wall. The Eletsol among the shelters, mostly children, stared and laughed at the prisoners. The children’s laughter hushed into susurration as they paid careful attention to blindfolded Ansi. Many lengths ahead, a gate set in the wall and painted with animal designs was open just enough for two lines of wagons to enter and exit. The wagons were pulled mainly by ground squirrels and rats. Some Eletsol pulled wagons themselves or led scuttling beetles strapped up with supplies. Wood and stone filled the entering wagons, and the exiting ones were empty. The prisoners and their escorts joined the shuffling entrance line. It took some time before they made it past the front gate, but then they stepped into the busiest city Matil had ever seen.
The air was heavy with smoke, the thunder of timbers falling into place, and crash after boom from many hammers striking stone and wood. Everything was moving – the alva, the work animals, and even the buildings. Roofs were hoisted and walls raised before Matil’s eyes. Helmeted soldiers drove the workers hard, but some seemed to be helping the workers as best they could. The encompassing wall cast cool shade over the city.
Dask gave a low whistle. “These guys could put the Obrigi to shame, huh, Khel?”
“They’re fast,” Khelya said with distaste, “but they’re takin’ a lot of shortcuts. Look, they even left some of their construction behind without finishing.”
Teetering skeletons of buildings were scattered haphazardly throughout the city. The throngs of bent-backed workers gave each abandoned structure a wide berth. The guards led the prisoners down a broad main road of hard dirt, and Matil looked nervously up at one of the unfinished buildings as they walked close beside it.
The road split in two. Between the new roads was an imposing wooden statue. It depicted a woman, similar in appearance to Fridda but more muscular. With her chin lifted and bare feet solidly planted, her posture communicated ownership of the land and its alva. Workers went back and forth by the statue with their heads low, carting loads of lumber and plant material. The group took the left road and, with the guards shoving people out of the way, they made quick progress through busy crossings and under wooden sky-bridges. Smaller statues of the same woman glared down from pedestals and building facades.
