by Alex Quill
The sound of someone walking along creaking floorboards was followed by a shout from a woman inside.
“Shop’s closed!”
Synago frowned and turned to walk away, but stopped herself before she could take another step. This was important. Potentially life or death. Politeness be damned, she needed answers. She knocked on the door again. This time there was a clunk that came from the door, the sound of a key turning in a lock. The door opened a few inches and Synago saw a short dark figure in the shadows peer out.
“I said shop’s closed. What’s this about, then?” said the woman behind the door.
“I’m a refugee and, um… I’m a friend of Roland. My name is Synago. There’s an emergency. Well, I have an emergency, anyway. He said you could help?”
The door creaked open a few more inches. Synago peered at the woman in the dim light let in by the light-stone lamp hung on the doorway. It was the same woman she’d seen smoking on the porch the day they’d arrived. She was an older woman, with pure white hair pulled up into a messy bun at the back of her head. Her face was wrinkled, but her bone structure suggested she had been beautiful in her day. After she opened the door she crossed her arms across her chest and nodded Synago inside with her head.
“Get in here, then. Haven’t got all night,” she said.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you Mrs. Tulie,” said Synago. The woman rolled her eyes and Synago walked inside. The shop was small, and there were bunches of flowers displayed everywhere. The room was lit by several small candles, which cast wavering shadows of the flowers against the wall. It smelled like a forest meadow and Synago took a deep breathe in.
“I hope you didn’t come here just to smell my flowers. Tell me what this emergency is about,” said Tulie, closing the door behind them and snapping repeatedly with her right hand. She recrossed her arms in front of her and stared Synago down.
Synago did her best to explain quickly. “Well, it’s about my sister. She’s been drafted. But she’s not suited for war. A childhood accident has left her with a simple heart and mind. I tried to volunteer after learning what you told Roland, but by the time I got back to the emissary it was closed.”
Tulie scoffed, and put her hands on her hips. “That’s it?” she said.
Synago nodded.
“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? That’s an easy fix,” said Tulie.
“It is?” asked Synago. Her heart began to fill with hope, and Tulie nodded.
“I’m not surprised they drafted her. Poor girl. These days they seem to be focusing on drafting anyone who isn’t able. I’ve got a theory about why, but I won’t go into it. Regardless, you can still volunteer in her place. The only difference between a same day volunteer and a next day volunteer is a sponsor. Someone who’s already in the Resistance who can vouch for you.”
Synago frowned. She didn’t know anyone in the Resistance. But Tulie was an ex-diplomat, maybe that would count?
“Do you think you could sponsor me, Tulie?” she asked.
Tulie laughed and shook her head. “No, no. Unfortunately I don’t have any more Resistance connections. I’ve been retired for years now.”
Synago’s frown deepened and her shoulders slumped. She felt so defeated at every turn of this day. She took a long, hard look at Tulie and tears welled up in her eyes. She had to excuse herself before she cried in front of this complete stranger.
“Well, thanks for the information anyways. Sorry I bothered you so late at night,” she said, and then headed for the door.
Tulie watched her go without uncrossing her arms. “I’m always up late, no need to apologize. Good luck with your sister.”
Synago gave a weak smile and then opened the door and left. Outside the night air was humid and cool. She took a deep breathe in and let it out slowly. She walked back to the entrance for the inn, but as soon as she touched the handle on the door to open it, a thought struck her like lightning. She knew how to save Mellie.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Captain
THE MORNING AFTER her late night visit to Tulie, Synago woke early with her heart beating hard in her chest. She’d had a nightmare she couldn’t quite remember, the memory of it disappearing in the gray twilight of the early morning. Mellie was snoring softly across the room in her own bed. The noises she made comforted Synago as the memories of the previous day rushed back to her mind. The draft, Yolanda, Tulie. It all seemed like too much for one day. One big, horrible day. But she had a plan, and now was the time to put that plan into action.
She got out of bed and got dressed first, then threw her satchel over her shoulder. When she was done getting ready she walked over to Mellie’s bed and stood over her.
Mellie was still sleeping with her mouth open and a little bit of drool dribbling from the corner. Synago almost laughed out loud, but stopped herself. Instead, she gently shook Mellie’s shoulder to wake her. Mellie’s eyes fluttered open. She closed her mouth and groaned at having been woken up so early.
Synago spoke to her in a soft voice. “I’m leaving. I will be back soon. Do what Yolanda says while I’m gone, okay?”
Mellie frowned. “Leaving?” she mumbled. Synago shook her head.
“Just for a little bit. I’ll be back, I promise,” she said. She brushed a stray strand of hair off Mellie’s forehead. “Be good for me. I love you, Mel.”
Mellie smiled at Synago’s reassurances, satisfied with Synago’s promise to return. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to her bed. “Love you Syn,” she mumbled. Synago turned to leave but glanced back at her sister when she reached the door. Mellie was already asleep.
On her way out, Synago stopped in front of Yolanda’s door. She’d written a note the night before explaining what she was going to do. She needed Yolanda’s help taking care of Mellie while she put everything into place. She considered knocking on the door but held herself back. It was too early for even Yolanda to be awake.
Instead, she slid the door open a hair, put the note between the door and the frame, and then slid it closed. The note stuck there in midair. Synago observed her work and when she was satisfied that Yolanda would get the note, she headed for the staircase to descend into the inn.
As she walked she made sure she had everything she needed for her plan in the satchel. She filled it the night before, but better to make sure. Both draft letters, the devah dragon’s egg, and an apple she’d stolen from the kitchen. Everything was there. As she stepped out of the inn’s lobby and into the world, she crunched on a bite of the apple. There’d be no sense in trying to pull this off on an empty stomach.
The sun peeked over the horizon. It was the gray twilight part of the morning just before sunrise, and most of the light stone lamps in shop’s windows were still lit. The dirt roads that took Synago towards the emissary were still damp from rain the day before.
Most of the vendor stalls were empty. Only a few had vendors in them, and those that did were still setting up. They stared at her as she walked down the road, probably wondering why anyone would be up this early. But Synago didn’t care if she looked odd to passerbys, she was on a mission.
When Synago reached the emissary building it was closed, just as she expected it to be. She sat down on a dry patch of dirt by the door with her knees pulled up against her chest and her back against the wall. While she waited, she finished eating her apple then put the core in her satchel to dispose of later. As the morning wore on and the sun rose in the sky, people filtered through the street. She watched them at a distance. At last, one of the people approached the emissary door to unlock it. It was a small pale woman with long dark hair and a spattering of acne across her face. Synago approached her.
“Hello,” she began. The woman jumped and flinched away, saw Synago, and then relaxed. She put a hand over her heart.
“Nearly scared me enough to send me to the High Mother!” said the woman.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I need to speak with Captain Tessen. When will he get here?
”
The woman frowned and squinted at her, then shrugged and went back to unlocking the door to the emissary building. “That’s an odd request. Everyone hates him. I guess you can wait inside if you like. He should be here any minute now setting up another draft.”
Synago thanked the woman and followed her inside. She sat in a wooden chair they had in their waiting area for taking in refugees. It was small and uncomfortable, but she didn’t care.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, the door creaked open and Captain Tessen walked in. Synago’s heart skipped a beat as soon as she spied him. It was go time. Tessen spoke first.
“Well hello there. Aren’t you the girl with sister who got drafted? What’s your name? Cinnamon, right? You need to bring your sister back to sign some papers before she leaves,” he said.
Synago clamped her mouth shut and held back her tongue, which longed to verbally lash this incompetent clod. Instead, she stood up and spoke in a voice as sweet as honey.
“My name is Synago, sir. And yes, my sister was drafted. But I got to thinking about it and I had an idea for a compromise that you might like.”
Tessen frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He walked towards Synago slowly, closing the gap between them by a few feet. He squared his shoulders, a sign to Synago that he wanted to appear larger than how pathetically small he actually was.
“I know when I’m having my ass kissed. What do you want?” he growled.
Synago’s heart pounded harder in her chest. He’d called her on her bluff, he knew that she hated him. But she had to try anyway. Maybe being blunt would be the better route.
“I want to volunteer in place of my sister, with you as my Resistance sponsor.”
Tessen rolled his eyes, his arms still crossed over his chest, and his shoulders slumped with lack of surprise and boredom. He rolled his eyes. “No volunteers past the first day of the draft. You know the rules I’m sure. And I’m certainly not going to sponsor you to get around the same day limit. Get out of here and bring your sister back for her papers.”
Tessen began to walk away, but Synago stopped him.
“No! Wait! There’s more,” she cried. Tessen paused, his interest piqued.
“I’m listening,” he said.
Synago steeled herself and forced herself to breathe slowly before explaining. This was it, her one shot at saving Mellie. But she had to lead him into it first.
“Raising your recruitment numbers through this draft looks good for you to your superiors, does it not?” she said. It was a shot in the dark, but one she was counting on. Tessen looked annoyed at the question but conceded to answering it.
“Yes. And?”
“Well, what if I told you that you could potentially double your recruitment if you sponsored me?”
Tessen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Okay. I’m listening,” he said. Synago smiled. Maybe this would work after all.
“If you sponsor me and I fail training or die, you can take my sister in my place. That effectively doubles what you’d get out of her. You and I both know she wouldn’t make it a day in the Resistance. She’d get kicked out and you’d look bad. Or even if she did pass training and get herself into the thick of things, she’d die. There’s no question. And you’d be down on your recruitment as a result. But if you take me and I fail or die you have an immediate replacement. You’ll double what you get out of this.”
Synago’s words seemed to echo in her head forever while she waited for Tessen to consider them. Would he think they were good enough? She got her answer immediately.
“I hate to admit it, but you make a fair point. Your sister is as good as dead out there. But you’re not actually doubling my recruitment numbers, are you? Just making a difference of plus one. And that’s not worth my time. So no, I still won’t sponsor you. Now are we done here?”
His words cut through Synago’s heart and she began to tremble. When she didn’t say anything for a moment he uncrossed his arms and began to walk away again. It was time for plan B. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but now she had no choice.
“Wait! I have this!” she fumbled within her bag and pulled out the devah dragon’s egg.
Tessen sighed, turned around, and rolled his eyes. He almost began to speak, but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes lighted on the egg. A sudden hunger came over his face and it sent a chill down Synago’s spine.
“Well, well, well. Now that is an interesting thing to offer,” he drawled, and then reached for the egg. Synago pulled it back and closed her fist over it, holding it close to her chest. Her voice shook when she spoke.
“Same deal. You sponsor me, I join, and if I’m kicked out or die you get my sister and… and you get the egg too. But only if I fail. I know the Resistance desperately needs Devahkin. Something like this could get you a promotion.”
Tessen pulled his hand back from reaching for the egg. A sour look replaced his one of hunger. Synago could tell that he was clearly torn between the indignity of helping her and the loss of chances at getting promoted. Finally, after a few minutes of consideration, he gave her his answer.
“Fine,” he spat, “I’ll do it.”
The hope Synago felt at his words must have left her smiling like an idiot, because Tessen scowled at her. Then, without warning, an awful smile spread across his lips.
“You do know that you’ll be under my constant watch and supervision, don’t you? I’m not going to make your life in the Resistance easy. If you fail or die, I win. I get the egg and your stupid sister, too.”
A familiar rage boiled inside Synago at his insult to her sister. It was an old rage that she’d known all her life. She’d always taken care of Mellie, even when they were children. Over the years many had called her sister stupid, and she’d picked a lot of fights defending her over it. But over time she’d learned how not to blow up, as hard as it was. She’d learned to take her rage and nurse it in order to use it later. She had to play this right, and she had to play it smart. No matter how angry she was she couldn’t blow up at Tessen. Even if he was nothing more than a petulant school-yard bully. So she took a deep breath and spoke in a calm, even tone.
“Yes, I do know that. I still want this. Where do I sign?”
Tessen smiled at her, uncrossed his arms, and turned slightly to the left. He gestured to the desk at the end of the nearly empty room.
“Right this way.”
Synago followed him to the desk and sat across from him as he began to pull out the paperwork. While he was busy Synago stared out a window to their left side. The sun was well on its way into the sky now and there was a small brown bird chirping on the sill of the window. Fond memories of adventures in the woods watching birds with her sister came to her.
A sudden peace washed over her. Her sister was safe now, even if she wasn’t. She didn’t regret anything.
CHAPTER NINE
The Donkey
AFTER HER SUCCESSFUL emissary escapade, Synago walked back to the inn. It was the late afternoon by now, and it was hot, but the humidity of the morning burned away and left her feeling dry and toasted by the sun. She was relieved to get away from the stuffy emissary building and return to the cool comfort of the inn.
Yolanda was waiting for her at the reception desk, and called out to her as soon as she got through the door.
“Synago! You’re back! Come, come,” she said. Roland, who was sweeping the floor on the other side of the room, came and took over the desk for her. She led her to a pair of plush chairs next to a fireplace where guests often came to visit with each other. Between the chairs sat Mellie, playing with the same toys Yolanda gave her before. Synago smiled, happy to know Yolanda got her note after all. Part of her had been scared she wouldn’t see it and Mellie would be left to her own devices.
