“We don’t have much farther to go to get to the gate. Do you think you can keep going for another mile?” Zaq asked, his eyes kind with concern. “I had really hoped to get out of the city before the gates close for the night. But I don’t think I can ask you to keep walking in this condition.” He frowned thoughtfully while looking around at the cramped row houses. “I guess there might be a boardinghouse nearby, but I don’t know this part of the city well.”
Tiran heard the worry in his voice and tried to dredge up some more energy. “I think I can go on if it would be better.”
Zaq looked at the setting sun. “We’ll have to hurry though. The gates will probably close in half an hour.”
“OK,” she told him. “Lead the way. I think I can make it.”
They started forward again, Zaq setting a quick pace. Tiran gritted her teeth against the pain and pushed onward after him. She had no idea what they were planning to do once they were outside the gates, but she would definitely feel safer once she was out of the city.
“So you live in another part of the city?” Tiran asked Zaq, trying to distract herself from the walking. Her voice came out a bit breathless.
“I rented a room in the college district on the other side of the city,” he answered with a faint smile. “The factory where I worked isn’t actually too far from where you lived though. I used to walk to work each day. It would take me about an hour. I guess it kept me in shape,” he explained, flashing her a grin.
“In better shape than me, anyway,” Tiran returned, still a bit breathlessly. “Why didn’t you live closer to your job? Weren’t there any nearer places to rent?” She suddenly found herself immensely curious about Zaq. She had never wondered much about his personal life before. It was as if suddenly he had become a real person with a life beyond his frequent visits to the soup kitchen.
“Oh, I’m sure I could have found somewhere closer to live if I had wanted to,” he said. “But to live near the college was so . . . exciting. I’ve always wanted to get more education but I never could afford to go to college. But I found that by living with the college students I had the chance to learn a bit beside them. I could borrow textbooks and discuss classes with the students who boarded there too. I think sometimes I was more interested in their classes than they were,” he laughed ruefully.
Tiran laughed with him. She could just picture the other students being puzzled by his fascination with their studies. Then she sighed. She too had spent a lot of time surrounded by a bunch of college students. For a moment it made her homesick.
“I spent all my life living near the International University in Roma. I took it for granted, I think. Well, except for the library. I loved the library. It was like my second home,” she confessed.
Zaq gave her a long look before turning back to face the street. “That makes me a bit envious. I wasn’t allowed in the college library,” he responded lightly. “They were probably afraid I would run off with the books and never come back. It would have been tempting.”
Tiran started to chuckle in response and then stopped sharply. A stitch was forming in her side, and she could hardly breathe. She concentrated just on keeping her legs moving, trying to match Zaq’s pace.
“Look,” he exclaimed suddenly. “There’s the gate.” They had come around a bend in the river to see a ten foot high wall with an opening wide enough to allow the street through. A guard tower stood next to the gate, but Tiran couldn’t see anyone in it. “Why do they have a gate anyway?” Tiran asked. “They can’t possibly be worried about an attack.”
“It goes back to the old caste system. Certain castes of people weren’t allowed to travel in or out of the city without papers granting them the right to do so. Partly it was to keep runaway slaves from either getting in or out,” Zaq explained as they closed on the gate. Tiran looked at it in fascination. The idea of castes seemed so strange to her. She had technically been born into the Gallant caste, made up of fairly wealthy land or business owners. But as a child she had spent all her time around people of the Resistance, and caste had been deliberately ignored. Of course, castes had been abolished when she was still a child anyway, and she had never had to deal with any of the lingering effects of that since both her mother and her stepfather lived outside the caste system.
“Nowadays of course, castes officially don’t exist so they don’t check your rank or anything like that,” Zaq continued. “But at least at this end of the city, people still feel safer with the gate closing every night, so they’ve continued that custom at least. After sunset the local gatekeeper will shut the gates, closing the route to traffic for the night.”
Tiran glanced at the sun. It was low but it had not yet sunk behind the horizon.
They walked through the gate amidst a small throng of pedestrians, unchallenged by anyone.
“What caste were you, Zaq?” asked Tiran curiously. “Not that it matters,” she added, blushing. She was afraid she had been rude.
Zaq looked at her, puzzled. “But it should be obvious from my tattoo,” he stated.
“Your tattoo? I thought those were just part of some kind of naming custom,” Tiran replied in confusion. Some adult Denicorizens she had met had a small tattoo on the left side of the neck, but she had never thought much about it. When she had asked her mother about it long ago, her mother had only said that the tattoos were part of an old infant ceremony that wasn’t practiced any more.
Zaq shook his head. “I guess you really weren’t raised as a Denicorizen, were you?”
“So what?” Tiran asked defensively. “I was a bit sheltered, I guess, but I don’t see why it matters.” Zaq smiled and turned to her, stopping and putting his hand on her arm.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Tiran. I just haven’t met anyone like you before, that’s all. Really,” he tried to reassure her. Tiran was only partially reassured. She still felt that he was being a bit condescending toward her.
“So your tattoo names your caste?” she ventured. Zaq angled his neck toward her. “Take a look,” he offered. She leaned over and saw that what she had taken for a curling vine was actually a very elaborate S drawn in black ink.
“Servile caste,” he translated. Tiran pondered that for a moment as they started walking again. Servile caste members were only one step above slaves. They had been the poorest free Denicorizens, almost always working as servants or in very menial labor. Even with the Revolution, she had probably lived a very different life from Zaq. She wondered if he resented that.
“Did only the lower castes get tattoos like that?” she questioned, unconsciously touching her own unblemished neck.
“No, it was a requirement for anyone within a week after birth, from Royal caste down to slaves. Of course, after the Revolution, Citizen traders set up tattoo removal clinics. If you had the money, you could get your tattoo removed, and lots of people did that. That means that nowadays you usually only see the poor, like yours truly, still showing off their former caste,” Zaq explained without a trace of bitterness.
That explained the lack of a tattoo on Markus’ neck, Tiran reflected. Instinctively she knew that no matter how poor he had been, he would have come up with the money to remove his own tattoo.
“Well, here we are,” announced Zaq with relief.
Tiran looked around and noticed that a small village had sprung up right next to the river flowing outside the city wall. A well-lit inn was closest to the city wall, with the sound of music and pleasant voices drifting through the open windows. Outside, a couple of transports for hire sat empty, their drivers probably enjoying themselves inside the inn.
“Oh look, transports!” exclaimed Zaq. “That is better luck than I had hoped for. I thought we would have to stay all night here in the village, but instead of waiting, I’d really rather get as far away from the city as possible tonight.”
Tiran voiced her agreement and they started tow
ard the transports. She was very tired, but in a transport at least she wouldn’t have to walk. Just like Zaq, she would feel safer as soon as they got away from the city filled with wanted posters carrying her name.
At the inn, Zaq left her outside while he went to find a driver to hire, but he returned after only a few minutes. “I found a driver,” he announced. “He is just settling up his bill right now and then he’ll be out.”
“Where are we going now?” Tiran wondered.
“Rastallin. It’s a small city on the western edge of the Blue Plains. From there we can hire another transport to take us to Munsk. It’s a little tiny town up in the mountains where I have a friend who will help us, I think.” Tiran frowned. That sounded such a long way.
“Will our money get us that far?” Tiran fretted aloud.
“It will be tight,” Zaq admitted. “I think we can make it though, with what I have and what Sister Marna so generously gave us.”
“I feel so bad,” Tiran said apologetically. “I don’t have anything to contribute. You are doing this all for me, and I can’t help at all.”
“Don’t worry. If we ever get you back home you can pay me back,” Zaq replied with a grin. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
The journey to Rastallin was uneventful. Tiran fell asleep only a few minutes into the trip and awoke to Zaq gently shaking her. “Wake up, sleepy. We’re here.” She groggily raised her head from where she had slumped against the window and rubbed her forehead. She must have a nice little mark there now.
Zaq was paying the driver, and she stepped out into the pitch black night.
“What time is it?” she yawned.
“It’s still three hours before dawn. Nowhere is going to be open at this time of night. Do you mind camping out?”
Tiran shivered. “Well, I guess we don’t have a choice.” The transport turned, and she watched it speed away into the distance. “What did you tell him, Zaq? Don’t you think he’ll find it suspicious that we needed to leave the city in the middle of the night?”
“I’m sure he will, but I told him that we had eloped and that we were returning to my home here in Rastallin. I hinted that you had a father who was likely to hunt me down when he found out. Hopefully that was a good enough explanation.”
Tiran blushed. “You mean he thought we were just married?”
Zaq smiled crookedly at her. “It was the best I could come up with on short notice.” Tiran couldn’t think of a better story herself. But still, it made her squirm a little. Even worse, part of her found the idea strangely exciting. She forced the thought out of her head.
Rastallin was outside of the Blue Plains, and thickets of trees interspersed with grassy meadows lined the road that led to the north.
“Let’s walk for a bit and we’ll see if we can find a sheltered spot where we can wait until morning,” Zaq suggested. Tiran readily agreed, and they walked for probably ten minutes before finding a spot that seemed far enough away from any houses yet still close to the road. The trees were thick there. The forest seemed to edge right up to the town. She followed Zaq off the road and into a small clearing under a canopy of leaves.
“I thought you said this town bordered the Blue Plains,” Tiran said, gesturing at the trees as they settled onto the ground. Zaq pulled some dark hard bread from his zip pack and tossed it at Tiran.
“The Blue Plains come up to the east end of the town. We’re on the other side. The town straddles the divide between the Blue Plains and the Marku Mountains,” Zaq explained with a yawn. Tiran nibbled at her bread. Once she had cherished dreams of staring out over the Blue Plains with Markus. Now she was as close to the Blue Plains as she was ever likely to be, and the dream seemed a little bit silly now. The thought of sentimentally staring out over the plains with Zaq made her giggle.
“What?” Zaq asked, looking self-conscious.
“Nothing,” Tiran said hastily, choking back her laughter. Zaq raised his eyebrow.
“So how long do you think we’ll need to wait here?” she said, changing the subject. Zaq yawned hugely again. “A few hours at least. Then I can go into the town and hire a transport.” He lay back on the grass. “I’m going to try to get some rest,” he murmured sleepily. “It’s been a long day.”
Tiran sat and watched him for a moment and then laid down herself, her eyes on the stars again. They were brighter than any stars that she had ever seen before. For a moment she studied the unfamiliar constellations, and then she stole a look at Zaq. He was already breathing deeply. The night seemed to creep in closer. At first the unfamiliar noises made her uneasy. She had never slept outside before, let alone in a forest. Were there likely to be anavaks? She had forgotten to ask Zaq. The large cat-like predators were mountain dwellers that occasionally attacked people. They were nocturnal and a dark mottled green, she remembered, nearly impossible to see at night. The book she had read about them had suggested that they were the basis for the old legends about man-eating spirits who roamed the forests after dark.
She forced her mind away from dangerous animals and instead studied the starry sky again. She wondered if she could see the star that belonged to Tyre, where supposedly her father was. “I miss you, Dad,” she murmured to the sky. “I wish you’d come home. Though how you’d find me now, I have no idea.”
Finally she drifted off, her last thoughts a plea to Veshti to bring her father back.
20. On the Road to Munsk
Before Tiran felt like she had gotten any rest at all, Zaq was shaking her shoulder.
“Wake up, Tiran,” he called. “Good morning!” She pulled herself off the ground, her clothes and hair wet with the morning dew.
“Ugh, this is not a good morning,” she grumbled, standing and brushing her damp hair back from her face. “I’m never going to sleep outdoors again.” Zaq merely laughed at her.
“I’m going to go into town to see if I can hire a transport. Just to be safe you should wait here. Hopefully by the time I get back you’ll be in a better mood,” he teased.
Tiran rolled her eyes and watched him trudge back onto the road. Then she spent the next hour pacing around the woods trying to get her clothes to dry out and finger combing through her tangled hair. In the end, she decided it was hopeless and sat back down heavily to wait for Zaq. It didn’t take long.
“Bad news,” Zaq informed her when he returned. “We don’t have enough money to hire a transport to Munsk.” Tiran lifted her worried eyes to his. Now what were they going to do? They might be stranded in this unknown town until they starved.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” Zaq said, his eyes twinkling. “We’re not going to die here. Munsk is only about 15 miles away. We can walk; it just might take us all day.”
Tiran groaned. “A whole day of walking?”
“And some of it is up a steep hill,” he admitted. She fell back onto the grass. “I guess that’s slightly better than starving to death,” she complained to the sky. Zaq laughed at her. “Come on, Tiran,” he urged with a smile. “I promise that we’ll take it at a crawling pace so you don’t have to get out of breath.” He held out his hand, and Tiran took it with an exaggerated sigh. He heaved her off the ground. For a moment they stood facing each other, her hand still in his. His hand was warm, and her body tingled with something she couldn’t identify. Reluctantly she withdrew her hand. Casting around she sought desperately for something to say to try and ease the awkward pause. She cleared her throat. “So do you have any family, Zaq?”
“No close family. My parents died when I was a child,” he answered easily as they started walking.
“I’m so sorry,” Tiran responded. She wondered if it was a sensitive subject. Yet he had answered so casually.
“They were victims of the Kruundin City siege,” Zaq continued. “We had always been poor, and it had been a scramble for my parents to feed us before the Revolution. But dur
ing the siege, it quickly became a disaster. We couldn’t find food anywhere. We had nothing to trade, and no one to help us. My baby sister died first. She was just too young to survive it.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but Tiran’s stomach twisted. What must it have been like to watch your baby die?
“After that,” Zaq continued without looking at her, “My mother gave any scraps we were able to find to me, and she grew weaker and weaker. Not long into the siege she became ill, probably with some kind of influenza I think. She didn’t last much longer than a week. My dad by then was so desperate that he went to Kruunde Fortress in an attempt to join the army there. He never came home,” Zaq finished in a quiet voice. Tiran watched him silently. He had lost his parents to tragedy also. In a way, it brought back the loss of her own mother so recently. She bit her lip, the tears swimming in her eyes. They walked in silence for a few moments before Zaq spoke again.
“So you see, we have something in common,” Zaq said in his straightforward tone again. “We’re both orphans.”
“I guess I am an orphan from one point of view,” mused Tiran as she looked out over the rolling hills. “But I don’t consider myself one. My biological father died when I was so young that I don’t remember him at all. My stepfather has always been there, and I’ve always thought of him as my real father.”
Zaq’s forehead creased. “So you don’t consider yourself a Denicorizen then? You think of yourself as a Citizen?” His tone was disapproving. Tiran shrugged, a little stung by his implied criticism. “I never really think of myself as one or the other, Zaq. My family never talked about stuff like that. At school I was just the Ambassador’s daughter. Technically I have citizenship both on Corizen and in the Union so I guess I’m both.”
Zaq frowned again but not in anger. He honestly just seemed puzzled. Tiran looked at him curiously, waiting for his response.
“I guess I just can’t relate,” Zaq finally said. “All my life I’ve been taught that Denicorizens are completely different from Citizens—and so much more superior. I can’t imagine not choosing a side. It seems like you would have to.” Tiran sighed a bit at that. Zaq’s world had been so different from hers.
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