by Moira Young
That’s it! shouts Pinch. Run, you villain! You coward! Ha! No one crosses Rooster Pinch!
Saba, says Emmi. Are y’okay?
I spit outta the window. Spit out the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. I sit back in my seat. I wipe my mouth with my chained hands. I’m fine, I says.
I look over at Miz Pinch. She ain’t moved through the whole thing. She’s jest sat there, starin at me.
An there’s a little smile on her face.
The camel boy parks the chariot in front of a long low stone buildin on the edge of Hopetown. It’s a proper built place, not a Wrecker-junk shanty like the rest.
You bring the child an remember, keep yer mouth shut, says Miz Pinch to Rooster as we git out. I’ll deal with the Cage Master.
She grabs my hand chains an hauls me along behind her. Pinch brings Emmi by the hand. Two big mean-lookin men step in front of the door as we come up to it. My heart skips a beat. They’re dressed in long black tunics with leather body armor over top. Jest like the men who took Lugh. They must be Tonton, like Mercy told me about.
Cage Master ain’t in, says one.
He’ll be in fer me, says Miz Pinch. Tell him Miz Pinch is here. Say I got somethin special fer him.
They look at us with hard eyes. They got merciless faces.
Didn’t you hear me? the Tonton says. I said, he ain’t in.
You’ll tell him I’m here if you know what’s good fer you, says Miz Pinch.
One of ’em jerks his head an th’other one opens the door an disappears inside. He’s back soon.
You can go in, he says. But you better be quick.
We all go in.
The Cage Master sits behind a big stone table in a white room. In the wall behind the table, there’s a big wooden door. A dull roar, the muffled sound of many voices, comes from behind it.
There’s partly et food spread out all over the table in a big mess—flatbread an platters of roast meat an boiled pigeon eggs an jugs of grog. The Cage Master hardly even looks up when we come in, he’s so busy stuffin it all into his mouth. He’s got a fat, round, pink face with three chins an a few long hanks of hair plastered flat to his skull. There’s a red napkin tied around his neck.
Puffed up, greedy toad. I ain’t afeared of you.
He picks up a roasted sparrow an crams the whole thing in his mouth. Well, what is it? he says. I’m a busy man, Miz Pinch. I ain’t in the mood fer no time wasters.
Miz Pinch goes still. Like a rattlesnake about to strike. Them Tonton guards of yers is all chaaled up, Cage Master, she says. You better hope that my—that … certain people don’t find out that yer lettin standards slip.
His face goes pale. He pulls the napkin from his neck an wipes his greasy mouth an fat greasy fingers on it. But … my guards’re clean, he says, I swear they are!
It don’t look that way to me, says Miz Pinch. Ain’t that right, Rooster?
Yes my dear, he says. Whatever you say, my dove.
I look at Miz Pinch, then the Cage Master. They’re starin at each other. The Tonton warn’t chewin on no chaal leaf. She don’t like the way he talked to her an she’ll settle the score by makin trouble fer him.
Well, what’re you waitin fer? says Miz Pinch. You better see to it.
Yes, he says. Yes. He hesitates, still chewin. Then, he heaves hisself to his feet an waddles around the table.
DeMalo! he bellows. DeMalo!
The door behind the table opens a crack. The noise outside spills in, a deafenin roar, as a man slips through. The sound fades as he closes the door behind him.
He’s a Tonton. Tall, like they all seem to be, an robed head to foot in black. But this one wears metal body armor over his robes where the rest wear leather. A shiny breastplate an armbands from his wrists to his elbows. Long dark hair tied back. A watchful face. A strong face, with broad cheekbones. You don’t call men beautiful, I know that. But all the same, that’s what he is.
He says nuthin. Waits.
The Cage Master, so cocky jest a moment ago, shrinks. He looks off to the side of DeMalo when he says, Uh … this … uh Miz Pinch seems to think there’s a problem with the guards on the door. Of course I uh … assured her that we run a tight ship here but uh … I’d be ah … most … ah …
DeMalo don’t show that he’s even listenin. He moves towards the main door, silent as a cat. As he goes past us, he pauses. Right in front of me.
He raises his head. His eyes meet mine. They’re deep set. Dark, almost black. Full of shadows.
Time shrieks to a halt. I cain’t move. I cain’t breathe. I cain’t take my eyes from his. I don’t want to.
Lookin deep inside of me.
Findin my darkest thoughts, my worst fears.
I know you, a voice whispers. I know you.
Cold starts to creep through my blood. I shiver. It runs through my whole body, from my toes to my head. He feels it. Sees it. There’s a slight flicker in his eyes. Then he moves, slips through the door an he’s gone.
It only lasted a heartbeat. Him an me, locked inside a heartbeat.
Nobody says nuthin fer a long moment. Nobody moves. It’s like we all felt the same thing. Like we all stopped breathin.
What jest happened here? Who is he? They’re all afeared of him.
Then the Cage Master lunges at the table, pours hisself a cup of grog an drinks it dry. He slumps into his chair, moppin at his forehead with his napkin.
So, says Miz Pinch, we unnerstand each other, I think.
Yes, he says. Of course. Now, you’ve brought somethin to show me. Yer latest acquisition, I take it. He looks me over with his greedy little eyes. So, you think she’ll be good in the Cage.
I don’t think, Miz Pinch says, I know. This one’s very rare. Very fine.
Not like that last one you brought me then, he says. She was a disappointment. Didn’t cooperate at all. I was startin to think that maybe yer judgement ain’t what it used to be, ha ha!
Miz Pinch’s neck flushes a dull red. Her hands clench into fists. Mind what you say, Cage Master, she says.
I … I meant no disrespeck, Miz Pinch. You know me, I didn’t mean to—
Jest remember who yer talkin to, she says. Who I am. I got influence! Anyways, I dealt with that girl. She got what she deserved.
That’s right! That’s the way! Yer one in a million! Well go on, he says, let’s take a good look at this prize of yers.
Step up, she says to me. She goes to give me a push between the shoulders but I shrug her off.
Don’t give in to fear, Saba. Be strong, like I know you are.
I take my time walkin up to the table. My ankle chains clank on the stone floor. I hook a chair with my foot, pull it over an sit down.
I lift my chained hands, help myself to one of the roasted sparrows an bite the head off. Then I pour a cup of grog an drink it down, starin at him the whole time. I put the empty cup upside down on the table.
He narrows his eyes. Well, he says, she’s bold enough, I’ll grant you that. Stand up girl, let’s see you proper.
I look him up an down. I curl my lip.
He’s around the table in a flash. He grabs my arm an hauls me to my feet. Who’d think a fat man could move so fast? An he’s much stronger’n I thought he’d be. He pulls me tight aginst him.
Be very careful, he whispers in my ear. I’m in charge here. I don’t care who you are or where you come from. In Hopetown my word is law. Unless I say so … yer nuthin. Less than nuthin. The dirt under my feet’s more use to me than you are. Do you understand?
I nod.
Good, he says. He licks my ear slowly. Then he steps away. My stummick turns over. I feel the blood rush to my face. I wanna scrub at my ear, chuck up, run from the room, but I cain’t. I don’t. I jest stare straight ahead.
She’s strong, says Miz Pinch. An smart too.
Strong, smart an bold. The Cage Master struts around me, lookin me up an down. Well, she looks impressive. You might just have somethin here.
The Cage Master stares at me. Then he says, The question is, can she fight?
Only one way to find that out, says Miz Pinch.
Quite right, he says. An there ain’t no time like the present. Come.
The Cage Master walks to the door that DeMalo came through an throws it wide open. The roar that we heard before spills into the room an fills the air. He steps outside. We follow him.
We’re standin on a platform, lookin down on a great crowd of people.
Welcome to the Colosseum, he says.
I try to take it all in. The Cage Master’s house sits on the top of a hill. It sweeps down an away from the house. Down below us, cut into the hillside, there’s rows an rows of benches with three clear paths that cut through ’em from top to bottom.
The benches is crammed full of people. Everybody’s shoutin an some of ’em’s leapin around an pointin an shakin their fists. An they’re all lookin at one thing.
A cage. At the bottom of the hill in a open space stands a big metal cage.
Inside there’s two men fightin. From the roar of the crowd, from the smell of the excitement in the Colosseum, it looks like it’s buildin up to a big finish.
The fighters both barefoot, bare-armed, bare-legged. They wear short tunics. No weapons. They punch, wrestle, kick at each other, scramble up the sides of the cage an throw theirselves off to land on their opponent.
One of ’em’s gittin tired. Blood’s pourin outta his nose an he’s startin to stagger, throw wild punches.
Looks like the end fer Artashir, says the Cage Master.
Artashir’s opponent backs him into a corner, picks him up by the throat with both hands an holds him there, slammin him aginst the cage bars. Artashir goes limp. The guy lets him go an he slithers to the floor.
The winner holds his hands over his head, pumps his fists in the air an the crowd goes crazy. They’re all pointin at the Cage, screamin an jumpin around. Some of ’em’s even fightin with each other an guards wade in to break it up. Their eyes look wild.
Artashir pulls hisself slowly to his feet. He stands there, swayin slightly. The crowd boos. Then they turn to face our platform an start to chant, Gauntlet! Gauntlet! Gauntlet!
Artashir looks up at the Cage Master. The Cage Master stares down at him.
I usually look forwards to this bit, he says. But there’s somethin about this one.… His will to live seems to be stronger ’n most. I s’pose that’s why he’s lasted so long. He’s certainly been good for business. Well, no point gettin sentimental. He’s lost his last two fights an this one makes three. Rules is rules.
He tugs the red napkin from around his neck an, holdin it in his right hand, raises it above his head. The crowd’s screamin even louder by now.
The Cage Master sighs. Oh let’s get on with it, he says. Then he brings down his arm.
Two burly cagekeepers open the cage door an pull out Artashir. The crowd all rushes towards the path that runs up the middle of the Colosseum, climbin over each other, punchin an kickin to get right next to it.
Armed guards haul people outta the way, push ’em back so the path stays clear.
They live fer this, says the Cage Master. They’re worse than animals. That’s what too much chaal does to you. Fools.
Then everybody starts to stomp their feet on the ground. The whole place shakes, even the platform we’re standin on. The stompin gits faster and faster.
The keepers push Artashir forwards. He looks around the Colosseum. He drags in deep breaths through his nose, his head held high. Then his face changes. Hardens. Like he’s made a decision. He stares up at the Cage Master an spits on the ground.
The Cage Master gives a little laugh.
Then Artashir throws back his head an roars. Bellows like a wild beast that’s bin hunted down, that’s cornered but that’s gonna go down fightin.
He starts to run. He sprints up the center path. Hands reach out, hit him, grab at his tunic, tryin to pull him down. He throws a punch an gits hisself free. Manages to stagger on a few steps more. But the crowd surges forwards onto the path, howlin like wolves at a kill, an bodies close over him. Waves pullin down a drownin man. Artashir disappears.
My stummick heaves.
It’s a shame when a good fighter goes down to the gauntlet, the Cage Master says. He looks at me. He reaches out a clammy hand an strokes it down my cheek. Now it’s yer turn, he says.
The girl’s smaller’n me.
She comes at me hard, right from the off. She moves so fast I cain’t even see her fists. The first punch to my face. Then my ribs. An I jest stand there. Like I’m asleep.
But then the red hot kicks in an at last I unnerstand what it is. It’s like animals. A animal will do anythin to live. Even chew off its own leg if it’s caught in a trap. That’s the red hot. An I’m gonna hafta learn to use it if I wanna survive in the Cage.
The girl’s tough. And she fights hard. She fights mean. She lost her last two fights. This is her last chance. So she’s got the red hot in her too.
But mine is stronger than hers.
I watch what she does.
I learn fast.
She gives me a helluva beatin before I learn enough. Then I git lucky. I go at her with a flyin kick to the stummick that slams her hard aginst the bars an that’s it. She don’t git up till the keeper pulls her to her feet.
An it’s over. The end.
The end fer her. The beginnin fer me.
They don’t tell me her name. There’s a little pink birthmark on her face. It looks like a butterfly.
Like the Cage Master says, it’s a shame when a good fighter goes down to the gauntlet.
But one of us had to.
An it sure as hell warn’t gonna be me.
The Pinches is outside on deck. They’re celebratin their good fortune with a jug of squonk an a roast pigeon. Tonight’s our last night on the Desert Swan. Tomorrow they move into a place in town. The Pinches an Em, that is. I’m gonna be moved to the cellblock where they keep the cage fighters.
I lie on my bunk. I’m chained, hand an foot, like usual. Em sits beside me. She’s got a cloth dipped in cranesbill juice an dabs it, real gentle, on the cut near my eye.
I ain’t hurtin you too much, am I? she says.
I know my body’s sore. It must be. But I feel the hurt from a long ways away, like in a dream. Like I ain’t inside my body no more. Like I’m floatin around somewhere outside it. I’m sorry, I whisper to Em.
Sorry fer what? she says.
You shouldn’t of had to see that, I says. Her an the Pinches stood with the Cage Master on his balcony. She saw everythin from start to finish.
I was so afeared, she says. She would of killed you if she could.
I ain’t gonna let nobody kill me, I says. I’m gonna live. I’m gonna live an I’m gonna git us outta here an we’re gonna find Lugh. I promised him I would an I … oh Emmi … Emmi, what’re we gonna do? What am I gonna do?
An that’s it. I’m undone. The tears trickle at first. She tries to wipe ’em away, but they start comin too fast.
Shhh … She strokes my face. Shhh … don’t let ’em hear you, she says. Don’t ever let ’em hear you cry.
She gives me the cloth to stuff aginst my mouth.
She lays down beside me on the bunk. She puts her skinny little girl arms around me an holds me tight. It’s all right, Saba, she says. Everythin’s gonna be okay.
I double up in pain. I howl into the cloth, my whole body shakin.
I weep fer the girl with the butterfly on her cheek.
I weep fer Emmi. Fer Pa. Fer Lugh. Fer me.
Fer what we used to be.
Fer what got took from us.
Fer what’s lost to us ferever.
HOPETOWN
ONE MONTH LATER
THEY CALL ME THE ANGEL OF DEATH.
That’s because I ain’t never lost a fight. Every time they take me to the Cage, I let the red hot take me over an it fights til
l it wins.
If it’s the third time unlucky fer the girl that’s jest bin beat, I turn my back so’s I don’t hafta see her run the gauntlet. I cain’t help hearin, though. The bayin of the chaal-crazy crowd, like a pack closin in on their kill.
I close my mind off. Don’t let myself think about it. I gotta stay alive. Gotta git outta here an find Lugh. He’s still out there somewhere, waitin fer me to come. I know it. They could be keepin him right here in Hopetown.
Hopetown. It’s a cesspit, jest like Mercy said. Every scurfy villain that ever crawled outta a dunghill seems to find their way here.
An the Tonton. They’re everywhere, also like Mercy told me.
They’re personal bodyguards to the Cage Master, who watches the fights from the comfort of his balcony. They control the Gate, checkin who comes into an outta Hopetown. They’re in the watchtowers, one at each corner of the palisade surroundin the city. They’re in charge of the armed guards who control the Colosseum crowds an patrol the streets. They’re in charge of the scum who guard us here in the cellblocks—one block fer the men fighters an one fer the women—an supervise us in the exercise yards.
An the Tonton in charge over all of ’em is DeMalo. They say he answers to the Cage Master, but from what I seen that first day, DeMalo don’t answer to nobody but hisself. From time to time, he stands on the Cage Master’s balcony while a fight’s on. I ain’t never seen him close up agin. An I hope I never do.
But all the guards an the watchtowers an the locked cells an the chains that bind me … none of that’s stopped me tryin to git away.
The first time, I waited till it was night, then I picked the lock of my cell with a rusty nail I found in a corner of the exercise yard. I got caught tryin to lift the keys from the guard’s belt while he was forty winkin it.
The second time, I was on the way back from the Colosseum when I punched my guard in the face an made a run fer it.
Both times, they shoved me into the Cooler to try an break my spirit. That’s what they always do with troublemakers. But a few hours locked in a metal box unnerground ain’t gonna stop me tryin to git outta this place an they know it.
