Shifting Isles Box Set

by G. R. Lyons

  Vorena snorted. “In our mindless society, twilight tones and shades of grey are easy to produce. They require little substance and no effort. But color! Ah, now there's a thing for a free society.”

  “Well, if the Elders wear red,” someone asked in a mumble, “doesn't that just show that we really are a free society?”

  “The Elders wear red because they're power-hungry and like to show it.”

  “The Elders wear red because they are special,” Garl bit off.

  Benash looked over just in time to see Vorena raise an eyebrow. “Really? And yet I recall you saying—quite emphatically—that no one was special.”

  “Woman, so help me, I–”

  “That we're all equal,” she added, interrupting him. “All the same. 'Land of the free', and all that.”

  Benash stared at her, startled by her words but unable to define precisely why.

  “So how did the Elders get red robes if we have no red dyes?” someone asked.

  Vorena laughed. “Made by the Agori, didn't you know?”

  There was a long silence, until someone pointed out, “But the last time any of the Agori were allowed to come here was—What?—decades ago?”

  “Longer,” Vorena answered. “They tried to improve our dye works, as they tried to improve all our technology, but the Elders were having none of that.” She paused, shrugging. “Didn't stop them from indulging in keeping what the Agori made, though. Of course,” she continued, chuckling, “if you get a good enough look—hard to do, I'll admit—but if you get close enough to an Elder, you'll see just how old and worn out his garment is. I dare say they're afraid to let go of even that little display of their loftiness.”

  “They. Are. The Elders,” Garl bit off. “They selflessly lead and guide us. They provide for us. Of course they must be honored and set apart.”

  “Ah, but they're not the only ones set apart,” Vorena said with a smirk.

  The room fell silent, so Benash spoke up, asking, “How is that?”

  Vorena glanced over at him without turning her head, and Benash shivered under her gaze.

  “Women wear undyed garments of natural white; citizens wear dull grey; Hawks, a darker grey; and the Eagle guard uniform is almost black,” she said. “Your rank in society is explicitly on display by the very clothes you're required to wear.” She paused, then added, “But, seven hells, what am I saying? We live in a free society, where everyone is equal, right? Shame on me.”

  Garl stormed over to Vorena's cell, his hands in fists at his sides. Though Benash couldn't see the man's face from his place at his desk, he imagined Garl's expression twisted in rage to match the stiff set of his shoulders.

  “If it wasn't for the fact that the Elders have forbidden it,” the man growled, “I would fuck you and beat you until your life drained away, wench.” Benash saw one corner of Garl's mouth curl up in a sneer. “I'd drag it out as long as possible. Watch you suffer.”

  A collective gasp filled the room, but Vorena merely raised an eyebrow at him.

  “You really think you have the stamina for all that?” she teased, deliberately looking him over from head to toe.

  Garl shot out a hand, but Vorena jumped back beyond his reach.

  Benash slowly straightened up, realizing he'd jumped halfway out of his seat, feeling an odd sense of panic that he was afraid to define. He clasped his hands behind his back, his fingers entwined so tightly that they shook, and kept his face carefully blank as he watched Garl storm from the cavern and slam the door shut behind him.

  “Not so tough there, eh, officer?” a prisoner shouted after him.

  A few other teasing comments filled the air, and Vorena gave her fellow prisoners a mock bow.

  When she straightened, she glanced directly over at Benash, meeting his eyes.

  What? she asked, looking amused.

  Benash shook his head subtly, easing himself back down into his chair and resting his hands on the desk. I just can't understand how you can always be so cheerful, spouting these ideas, when they're useless to you. You're locked in here for good. Why do you hold on to hope?

  Vorena grinned at him. So you do recognize that I hope. You're more observant than I thought. She paused, shifting her weight and leaning casually against the cell door. As long as there's life, there's opportunity, Hawk. Choices to be made. Actions to be taken. Yes, my choices are limited here, but you never know what the next day will bring. Who knows? Maybe this whole place will fall down around us and we'll just up and crawl out.

  As if the very earth were listening to Vorena's words, a handful of dust fell from the ceiling, landing on the desk right next to Benash's hands.

  Panting, he looked from the desk to Vorena and back.

  By the gods, tell me you didn't do that.

  No, but the timing was exquisite, she said with a laugh. By the gods, indeed. Maybe they're on my side here, Hawk. I just might get out of here after all.

  Chapter 23

  BENASH DREAMT of chains again, the cold and rough iron links tightening around his chest and pulling back on his arms so that his muscles strained and his skin tore as he tried to free himself. The more he fought, the more the chains drew him back, until he found himself in the dark confines of the underground prison. As the chains pulled him down the tunnel, he saw Vorena calmly walk past him, moving toward the sunslight, the sleeves of her blue shirt widening until they took on the shape of wings as she raised her arms to her sides, her silhouette taunting him and beckoning him outside.

  Still the chains bit into his flesh and pulled him deeper into darkness.

  He woke with a start, brushing his hands over his arms and chest, trying to push the chains away, but, of course, they weren't really there.

  Taking deep breaths as remnants of the dream continued to fade, Benash mindlessly went through his morning routine, and spent the entire walk to work startling at every sound, certain that he heard iron links snaking toward him and threatening to tie him down.

  “It's wash day for your cavern,” the records clerk told him as he checked in, giving him a sympathetic look.

  Benash held back a groan. The change from merely sitting at his post all day would have been nice, except for the prospect of having to navigate the long, dark tunnel several times throughout the day.

  The records clerk handed him a set of cuffs, and another officer followed him into the cavern. They pulled out the first prisoner, bound his hands, and the officer held Benash's place at the desk while Benash shoved the filthy criminal through the low-ceiled tunnel, keeping one hand out to track his progress by feel.

  The process repeated, over and over, until it was Vorena's turn.

  Lady, be with me, he prayed, setting his jaw as he led the woman to the washroom, preparing himself to fight with temptation.

  Stepping into the washroom, he took a deep breath as he straightened up and uncuffed Vorena's hands.

  Benash stood aside, waiting for her to undress, but she just stopped in the middle of the small room and put her hands on her hips, looking around.

  “What?” he barked.

  She cocked her head to one side, her eyes studying the walls and the floor.

  “For the gods' sakes, what?”

  She glanced over at him and shrugged. “Just trying to figure out the engineering of this room.”

  “What? Of all the– Seven hells, why?”

  Vorena looked amused at his consternation, but there was a seriousness to her eyes as she asked, “Haven't you ever just wanted to know something?”

  Benash held his arms out to either side. “A little irrelevant, don't you think? What does it even matter?”

  She frowned at him. “Aren't you the least bit curious about anything?”

  “The Elders tell me what I need to know,” he bit off. “That is enough.”

  Vorena raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you're not curious about how these pipes got here–” She gestured at the wall, then down at the floor. “–or
where this drain goes? Or anything at all?”

  “By the gods, you're an infuriating woman,” Benash growled. He huffed out a sigh and leveled a look at her. “Are you quite finished?”

  But the damned wench just stood there, not making a move to do as she was told. The silence stretched between them until Benash couldn't stand it any longer.

  “I'm told the Agori helped construct this room. There. Satisfied?”

  Vorena tilted her head slightly to one side, silently inviting him to go on.

  Benash sighed again. “It was over a hundred years ago. They laid the pipes along with the electrical wires running to the prison.” He shrugged helplessly. “The room is here. Why question it? What does it matter?”

  Vorena stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “They really do have you chained, don't they?”

  She turned away and started undressing, and Benash could do nothing but stare at her, unsettled by her question.

  Before she was quite naked, Benash turned away and slumped down on the bench, bracing his forearms on his thighs and trying with all his might to keep his eyes on his hands. When his glance shifted and he saw Vorena's bare legs in his peripheral vision, he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched both hands into fists.

  The sound of the water shutting off startled him enough that he looked up, and he found himself halfway across the room before he even realized he'd decided to move. A moment later, he had Vorena pressed back against the wall, his hands gripping her shoulders.

  She looked up at him, her expression curious and not the least bit frightened.

  “Gods be damned, woman,” he breathed, feeling his heart race. “Do you know what I could do to you right now?”

  Her mouth curled up into a half smile, an open mockery of his torture and confusion.

  “You're too close there, Hawk,” she murmured.

  Her words only half registered in his brain as he looked down at her, standing only an inch away. Benash tightened his hands on her shoulders, breathing heavily as he struggled with an intense desire and a strange sense of guilt that he couldn't quite define.

  Vorena lightly rested her hands on either side of his body, just under his arms, making him visibly shudder. A ghost of a smile flickered across her face as she drew her hands slowly down his sides, stopping again at his hips.

  Benash closed his eyes, warring with temptation, shaking as he held her there. The passionate image she'd once projected into everyone's minds surged through his memory, and his imagination replaced the entwined couple with himself and this infuriating, maddening woman, this woman who made his entire body heat with desire while his mind battled with denying everything for which she stood.

  Then his blood ran cold as he felt two hard objects press against his ribs.

  His breath caught in his throat as his eyes flew open, and Benash eased his hands off Vorena's shoulders as he took a step back, putting more distance between himself and his own weapons.

  Vorena had both his guns in her hands, and she whispered, “I said you were too close.”

  Benash stared at her, holding his hands out between them, not breathing as he waited for her to take an easy shot.

  He flinched as her hands moved, but when he looked again, he saw her holding both weapons by the barrels, offering him the grips. When he hesitated, she rolled her eyes and stepped forward, shoving the guns back into their holsters and then stepping away to grab a towel.

  Benash stood there, frozen to the spot, while she dried off and dressed, and it was only when she gave him a questioning look that he finally snapped out of it and grabbed her by the arm to lead her back to her cell.

  An hour later, as he sat at his guard desk in a daze, he couldn't stand the curiosity anymore and glanced toward her cell.

  Why didn't you do it? he asked.

  On her cot, Vorena sat up and shifted closer to the bars so he could better see her.

  Shoot you? she asked, then shrugged. Would have been a waste of time. I'd be dead right now if I had.

  But…you were armed, and I wasn't. You could have easily shot your way out of here.

  Though it was difficult to tell in the dim light, Benash thought he saw Vorena shaking with silent laughter. Right. I shoot you, someone comes running before I can even get dressed. Or…well, then again, you can't hear this cavern in there, so maybe no one would hear the shot. Still, then I'd have to get dressed, grab your keys, and somehow figure out the right key to unlock the door—backwards, mind you, reaching through the bars, and without being seen by the officers on the outside—and then shoot my way out past a number of armed officers, and then do the same again at the main gate outside, but at that point, if I were to even make it that far, the guards there would certainly have heard something, and could kill me before I made it halfway up the tunnel… She trailed off and shrugged. Like I said, waste of time. And too many deaths.

  Benash narrowed his eyes as he looked toward her. What about your claim to simply stop our hearts? You wouldn't need a gun for that.

  Through their mental contact, he felt more than saw her scowl. Gods be damned, you really do just blindly accept everything you hear, don't you?

  What do you mean?

  Think about it for half a second, she said, her voice full of extreme patience. If I were really capable of such a thing, why wouldn't I have just done so the day we met? I knew perfectly well that you were alone on that path. What was there to stop me? She paused and shook her head. By the gods, Hawk, you really need to learn to start thinking for yourself and not just take everything on blind faith. No wonder the Elders have you all so thoroughly under control.

  Benash clenched his jaw, feeling his body heat with anger, though he couldn't define precisely why. He raised an eyebrow, glancing around the room and pretending to be observing the cavern at large while directing his attention toward her. So you couldn't really do it?

  Vorena hesitated before answering, No. I couldn't. But that doesn't mean I couldn't try.

  Benash glanced back in her direction, crossing his arms over his chest. So why bother admitting you lied? From your position, you'd think it'd be better to keep us worried that you actually could do such a thing.

  He just caught a slight lift in her shoulders. It was amusing at the time, but I don't like lies, really.

  What about your stories? he asked, trying again. Those are lies.

  Are they? They're inspired by real people, real places, real human needs and emotions. Maybe fiction holds more truth than we give it credit for.

  Fiction, Benash began, biting off the words, is sinful. The Elders have said so. They know the truth.

  Laughter filled his head as Vorena covered her mouth and shook with amusement. 'Elders' and 'truth' should never go in the same sentence. Government is the greatest lie anyone in the world has ever told. Besides, if my stories are so sinful, why do you let me tell them? Why do you enjoy them?

  Well…it keeps the others quiet, he stammered, flustered by her observation, and…you're already here, so…

  Uh huh, right. Keep telling yourself that, Hawk.

  Benash curled his hands into fists. Woman, you try my patience.

  And you defy all reason, she snapped back. Tell me, Hawk: You've already learned that your precious Elders lied about the prayers. Why do you still trust them?

  He blinked a few times, staring at her, and finally forced out, Because they're the Elders.

  She laughed inwardly again. Tell you what, Hawk: You sneak me out of here and I'll show you real truth. I'll show you all the lies the Elders have told.

  Benash laughed darkly in his mind. I think we've already established you're not getting out of here. And I'll certainly be more cautious about letting your hands anywhere near my weapons in the future.

  Vorena was silent for a long moment, but Benash heard the amusement in her voice when she finally said, Doesn't mean that's the only way out of here.

  Benash started, not even caring if anyone noticed he was openly staring in
her direction.

  What other way out of here? he asked.

  Hmmm, she teased. Not all of us are as big as you, Hawk.

  With that, she turned away, and though he kept asking her to clarify the thought, she persisted in silence. Her comment teased him all day as he tried to make sense of it, wondering what the relative difference in their sizes could have to do with anything.

  Chapter 24

  “DO WE get a story today?”

  Benash looked up and saw all the prisoners looking eagerly toward the woman, some seconding the murmured question and others just nodding their heads.

  In her cell, Vorena stood up and leaned on the bars of the door that kept her locked in.

  “I don't know,” she said, looking pointedly at Benash. “The Hawk seems to think my stories are sinful.”

  A chorus of complaints rose up from all around the cavern, and Vorena merely raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Oh, go on,” he spat, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

  Vorena smiled and turned to look around the room.

  “One day,” she began, “not so very long ago, an officer was strolling through the forest on his way to work when he encountered a woman on the path. Now, this would have been strange enough—a woman, out of doors, on her own—but she was also wearing men's clothing, and hadn't washed in several days. The officer approached her and stared, shocked as he was with the sight.”

  She paused and met his glare, then gave him a cheeky grin and continued.

  “The Hawk questioned the woman, demanding to know who she was. And then! Oh, by the gods! The man had the audacity to ask the woman who owned her! As though she were nothing more than a piece of property!”

  Over the sound of whispered condemnation of her words, Benash rose from his chair and planted his hands on the desk, growling, “Because you are property, woman. Or, at least, you should be. That is the law.”

  “Interesting you should say that,” the damned woman said with a smirk, “considering all you officers are always claiming that everyone is equal.”