by Nick Webb
Arno leaned in, selecting a book off the top of the pile and opening it as he spoke to her in murmured tones. “If there is something you wish to discuss, I am open to bending the rules a bit today. We have only a short time remaining before your birthday.”
She tried very hard to smother the smile that wanted to consume her face. Arno had taught her some things that were probably on the not-permitted list, but he’d never openly flaunted the rules.
“Are you suggesting a birthday gift?” she teased.
He showed no sign of having heard her suggestion other than to scratch at his temple. He pushed the book closer and opened the cover, speaking while looking at the first page. “I have been told that once you reach your eighteenth birthday, there will no longer be any need of my services.”
Zelle’s smile disappeared in an instant. She took the book from Arno, centering it on the table in front of her, and flipped through pages, pretending to be occupied with their work when inside her heart felt more than a bit crushed.
“Do they mean to take away my education?” Her hands trembled and bile rose in her throat, burning it and making her feel as though she were choking. She massaged her neck, attempting to rub the discomfort away.
He reached over, running a finger down the page, giving the impression of discussing something in the text with her. “I do not know. I am not privy to the decisions being made by people above me. However, it would be foolish to think that your duties would not change once you’ve reached … this age.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want things to change. Or at least, not in the way they want to change them for me.”
Several moments of tense silence passed between them before Arno continued. He nodded slowly as he spoke. “I have hesitated to say anything to you until this point, but I know you dream of a life outside the tower.”
Her heart raced at the idea that he had seen into her soul, that he knew the things about which she had never spoken. “Yes,” she said, her voice rough from nerves.
He turned the page of the book and then rested his forehead in his hand, effectively blocking his lips from being read by the watchers. He spoke low enough to prevent the listeners from picking up the details. “If I were to tell you that there were others who did not agree with your confinement, what would you say to that?” He paused before adding to his statement. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. Because for me to discuss this in reality would be punishable by death.”
She nodded, gesturing with her hands and pointing to the book to imitate someone very engaged with the lesson. Her voice was also low enough to avoid detection. “I understand the punishment, although I realize it would be more harsh for others than myself. I would be happy to seek freedom on my own. I merely need to find a way out. Most of the tower is still off-limits to me and therefore a mystery.”
He closed the book and put it back on the pile, not looking at her as he straightened the texts and moved the stack to the edge of the table. “I could have a key.”
She glanced at her timepiece and then at him. “Is our lesson over already?”
He shook his head, speaking in a normal tone again. “No, our lesson isn’t over. I reserved time in the gardens so that we might discuss the botanical names for the flowers on the west side. It’s been a while since we’ve done that, and I fear you have forgotten much of what I tried to teach you before. You know that when you have New Earth’s children, you will be expected to take them often to the gardens and share your knowledge of the things growing there.”
She tried not to look too excited about the opportunity of having a private and forbidden conversation with her favorite tutor, about life outside the tower. Too much happiness at this point in her life could be dangerous. Any of the watchers or listeners who paid attention to her daily life had to know she hadn’t been happy and wasn’t looking forward to being a brood queen for the entire human race. To appear happy now would awaken their suspicions that something was amiss.
She looked at her timepiece again. “I suppose I could work it into my schedule. I have weapons training after this, and I must get back in time to change my clothing first.”
He folded his hands on top of the books that were now before him. “You must be at expert-level now with the sword, dagger, and wire. How wonderful.” His smile was forced.
She nodded, not sure what he expected to hear from her, but doing her best to play along. “Yes, and in several hand-to-hand disciplines. It’s helpful to have a way to work off the frustration.”
He tilted his head at her. “Frustration? Whatever could you be frustrated about? You have everything you could possibly need right here in the tower, your every wish granted.” He gave her a smile that she suspected was meant for the cameras, while the twinkle in his eye seemed to be saying that he did not feel the truth of his words. He was the smartest of her tutors and not necessarily from a family of privilege, though he never gave her the impression of being destitute. Perhaps he knew enough of the real world to see that she was living in a gilded cage, much like Bird.
“You are correct. But I often miss the company of other girls. Men can be so tiresome.” That last comment was for those who managed her. They called themselves her fathers, but she knew better. The man who had contributed to her biological makeup no longer lived. She had been informed of this on her fourth birthday.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Arno stood and walked to the door.
She nodded and followed him out of the room, tricking herself into believing that she could feel the eyes of the watchers burning brands into her back.
* * *
The gardens were kept for the enjoyment of everyone who worked in the tower, those who catered to Zelle’s every need and cared for her, but she was the only visitor. She used to go frequently, but her trips had become fewer over the years. What had once been a beautiful and special corner of her world had become another symbol of her prison. There was a beauty there she could touch, but it never changed. The plants were always kept trimmed to the exact same size, and the colors of the flower petals never varied. It looked exactly the same on this day as it had looked ten and fifteen years ago.
The garden was monitored like all the other rooms in the ivory tower, but there was only so much the microphones could pick up. Zelle had been taught about the technology that the watchers and listeners used, and she had reached the point in her training where she could set up and break down their entire system blindfolded. It was because of this extensive knowledge that she was confident that if she and Arno stuck to the center of the path, where the trees grew too high to have closely overhanging branches, they were assured a relatively private conversation. It felt dangerous and exciting to be there, walking side-by-side with Arno.
“I expect the guards to come and remove you at any moment,” Zelle said. She looked over her shoulder to confirm they weren’t there. Their blue uniforms with black collars were something both to be feared and admired. They had rescued her as a child when she got lost wandering the ivory tower alone, but they had also been there to stop infractions from occurring. More than one of Zelle’s tutors had disappeared from the rolls never to be seen again. She was never told what happened to them, but she feared the worst. It was for that reason that she was always cautious about putting her teachers in danger. But today, it seemed as if Arno were ready to take a risk, and her birthday was too close to play it safe anymore. She decided to take the risk with him.
“I have been given the task by the High Council of preparing you for the transition,” Arno said. “I am certain they believe that I am telling you right now what an honor it will be for you to carry the next generation of humans in your womb and to raise them as our ancient ancestors used to.”
She worked to keep her expression impassive. “Yes. I’m sure that is what is expected of you. And I’m sure I am expected to nod and smile and tell you what a great honor it is, and how I cannot wait to give birth to a minimum of thirty humans, preferably all g
irls who can be put in their own beautiful ivory towers to become mothers of future generations.”
He smiled. “Then we both know our roles and who we should be today.”
She couldn’t keep the desperation from seeping into her voice. “But I don’t want to be that person.”
His voice was almost soothing. “Nor do I.”
“So where does that leave us?” Her heart was thumping so loudly, she feared the listeners would hear it, that Arno would hear it. She wanted him to think her brave and fearless. She felt confident she could be that person, too … in a moment … after this feeling of incredulity had passed. This was the first time in eighteen years anyone had openly shown scorn for the work of the High Council in her presence.
“My statement earlier about a hypothetical group was not entirely honest,” Arno said, his words coming out rushed. He’d never spoken like this before. It made her even more nervous.
“There is a group of people who would like to rescue you from your situation. They do not believe it is fair that you are forced to live under the directives of the High Council. They believe in your right to self-determination.” He paused to look at her. “Do you remember that lesson?”
She nodded, her chin lifting ever so slightly. “Self determination: the right of every individual to decide for himself who he should be and what he stands for.”
He started walking again. “Exactly. You always were my best pupil. There is something wrong with that maxim, though, is there not?”
She nodded, entirely sure of her answer, even though this had never been a part of their lesson. “They always use the pronoun his. As if by simply being a girl, I do not have the right to self-determination. But I don’t agree with that. I believe all of the inhabitants of the ivory towers should be allowed to choose for themselves what they do with their lives.”
“Then we are agreed. If you wish, I can set you on the road to self-determination.”
“How?” Her hands had become sweaty. She slowly rubbed them together and smoothed her hair back in an effort to appear unaffected, concerned only by such things as the botanical name for the oak tree overhead. She and Arno would not be overheard where they were standing, but they would be seen.
Zelle had been the beneficiary of many lessons in self-control and various combat techniques, including how to respond as a prisoner of war. As long as she could remember, the High Council worried about an uprising of men wanting to take part in the pleasures they were denied—those only offered at the ivory tower to a select few male specimens hand-picked by the High Council. Her caretakers were concerned that these desperate men would try to overwhelm the security forces and take her captive, so she had been taught to fight for her own protection. The irony was not lost on her; she was using their training to protect herself from them.
Arno pointed to a bed of red flowers bordered by an ivy-covered stone wall. She expected to hear him say Dianthus chinensis, but she was wrong about his intent.
“There is a door on the ground level of the tower that is just off the kitchens on the east side, a delivery entrance. These are the same kitchens in which you’ve had cooking lessons every Thursday. Just inside that door are the laundry bins that service the entire tower. Each day, those bins are picked up, and new bins and clean linens are delivered. Later this evening, in the third used-laundry bin from the door, there will be a pair of men’s trousers, shirt, jacket, boots, gloves, and hat in your size. You must put them on and walk out the door at 8:30 tonight. No earlier, no later.”
They were reaching the end of the lane. It was time to turn and walk back. Zelle did the calculation of time, rate, and distance in her mind and knew that they had approximately ninety seconds remaining in their walk to complete their plan for her escape.
* * *
“And how will I do this?” Zelle’s mind was racing with possibilities. It would be one thing to deliver men’s clothing in a bin without being detected; it was another to put that clothing on and leave without someone seeing, hearing, or being alerted to the subterfuge. The ivory tower was a fortress; no one entered or exited without being watched by many sets of eyes and many electronic devices tuned in to biorhythms and microchip identification. “How will I get past all of the security?”
“We have friends,” Arno explained. “It has all been arranged. My job was to determine if you were willing, and you appear to be. All you need to do is put on the clothing, hide your dress in the bin, and go out the door at eight thirty exactly.”
She wanted to believe him, but it all seemed too simple. “I know these systems, Arno. The technology was designed to sniff out trouble, and it does a very good job of it. It has never failed as far as I know, and it has caught many people trying to enter the tower who did not have the right to be here.”
“I cannot tell you any more than I already have. Many people have put their lives at risk to help you. The more I reveal, the more risk they take on, and I cannot accept more responsibility for their lives than I already have. Just know that if you walk outside that door, there will be someone there to take you, and you will not be detected as you leave the tower. This I can almost guarantee.”
Even though Arno had been very clear, she still had to ask the one question that was swirling around in her mind, so that they both could thoroughly agree on what they were talking about doing and what it could mean for them. “And what if I am caught? What happens then?”
He stared straight ahead as his shoulders shrugged very slightly. “Those who helped you would be executed, and you would be returned to the tower to fulfill your duty to the people.”
Her smile carried no humor. “Not so terrible for me, but pretty awful for those other people.”
He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets, the first sign that he was not entirely comfortable with everything they were discussing. “You are correct. They will be at great risk. But, I would be remiss if I did not warn you of the risk you take as well. While your life may go back to normal here at the tower on the surface, I don’t believe it would feel that way to you. I believe you would notice more eyes on you, more restrictions, and less … “ He paused searching for the right words. “Less forgiveness.”
“Do you believe I have been forgiven?”
He took his time answering. “I would say that of the four princesses, you are the one who questions authority most stridently. And yet here you are, walking in the gardens with a fully functioning male and no escort.”
Too much of what he said hit her at once and overwhelmed her good sense. She seized his arm for a moment before realizing that this would signal to the watchers that she’d become overly excited. She released him and pointed to the trees, acting as though she’d seen a very special insect or butterfly there. “You know of the other three? You’ve never told me. I have asked and you’ve never told me.”
“I have not met them, but I know others who have.”
“Tell me everything, Arno.”
“I cannot. Our time has come to a close.” He looked meaningfully at the glass doors that marked the end of the pathway and led into the citrus room. Four guards were standing there awaiting Zelle’s approach, two of them her latest training instructors. They would be certifying her competence in expert-level marksmanship and combat maneuvers today.
She paused and turned slightly to face her tutor. “I will be there. And please thank all of your friends for helping me.”
He nodded and turned off the path, leaving her with the guards.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in a blur of panic and excitement, the likes of which Zelle had never experienced before. She had, off and on over the years, dreamed of a different life than the one that had been planned for her, but this was the first time a change had felt real, as if it were actually possible. She was not prepared for the depth of emotion this reality brought with it. Tears were hidden behind her sleeve and joy was disguised as pride at excelling in combat training.
Afte
r careful consideration, she had come up with the excuse that would have her down in the kitchens without supervision at the time arranged for her escape. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the only one she could imagine working. Trying to get from her tower room to the ground level in the kitchens at night without anyone detecting her movements would be impossible; her best bet was to allow all of the tower’s inhabitants to know where she was but not what she was really doing.
All of her training and education was over for the day, and she waited at her window for the sun to go down. She had showered and changed after her last lesson, emerging from the bathroom to find a shiny new medallion she could pin to her dress sitting on the small table in her room, signifying that she had reached the last qualifying combat level. She would not take it out of its box. She was not proud of being a warrior, but she wasn’t naïve either. What she had learned here would prepare her for the life that she sought.
She opened the window wide and let the outside air in, ruffling Bird’s feathers. She was seized by an emotion, looking into the creature’s eyes. It felt wrong to be leaving this place and forcing him to stay. She walked closer to the cage and looked between the bars.
“Bird, do you want to leave? Do you wish to have a different life than the one given to you here?”
He had everything he needed right there in his cage: fresh water and seed, the occasional piece of fruit. She reached up and released the clasp on the door, opening it wide as she had the window. “I don’t mind if you want to go. You won’t hurt my feelings.” She stepped back two paces, waiting for him to escape his prison and take the freedom she was offering.
