by Megg Jensen
I smiled and impulsively hugged Alia. She understood. Finally someone understood how I felt.
“Will you help me?” I asked, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “And, I mean this in the nicest way, please stop treating me like the Prophet and just treat me like another slave. That’s who I was most of my life. That’s who I still feel I am.”
“I’m glad,” Alia said. “Now you really are the Prophet I’d always longed for. I’ll go find everything and be back quickly.”
Alia rushed out of the room and I sat down to my breakfast. The warm bread and porridge coated my insides. With my stomach filled, I pulled off my wig and looked at my hair in the mirror. My black curls, not the golden ones Alia had always visualized, hung just past my chin. Not long enough yet to wear out in public. No free woman would ever allow her hair to be cut so short. It was a status issue, one that divided free Serenians from their brothers and sisters in slavery.
I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling them for the last time. I’d grown used to the hair but I had to get out of the palace and the only way was to become invisible.
Alia reentered my room. She quietly slipped through the doorway, closing it softly behind her. Her arms held a bundle of clothes.
I turned around as she laid the bundle on my bed, unwrapping it to reveal the shaving kit hidden inside. I ruffled my hair one more time before sitting down in a chair with my back to Alia.
She wrapped a towel around my shoulders, took out a dull blade and sawed off my precious curls. I grabbed one as it slipped down my shoulders. I fingered its silkiness between my thumb and forefinger.
“You should keep that,” Alia suggested. “Just to remind yourself what it’s like to have hair. I know I would if I were allowed to grow mine out.”
“Hopefully you will soon,” I said. “If it’s my destiny to get rid of the Malborn then I feel slavery will disappear too. You’ll be free to do whatever you want with your hair.”
Alia rubbed her head with one hand. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like.”
“I couldn’t either until it happened to me. You’ll get used to it soon enough. And,” I continued, “you won’t have to wear an itchy wig in the meantime.”
Alia laughed. “I tried yours on once while you were in the bathtub washing up. It was awful.”
“The real thing is much better,” I said. “Though that itches too while its first growing in.”
Alia continued to saw off my hair, slicing it away bit by bit to get it short enough so she could shave the rest off.
“What would you like to do when you’re no longer a slave?” I asked.
“I’ve never really thought about it, until yesterday. I barely slept last night wondering what it would be like to be free. I’ve seen the lives of the people outside the palace and in some ways I see my life in here as better. I’m clean every day. I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from.”
Alia ran her fingers along the stubble on my head as tiny bits of hair jumped to the floor. She wet a bar of soap in my washing basin and rubbed it on my head. I’d forgotten the feeling of the cool soap spreading across my scalp. I shuddered, from the memory and the slippery wetness.
She dunked the razor in water and dragged it across my scalp. I froze, remembering quickly how one tiny movement could result in a cut. My scalp would be extra tender and that the skin had probably softened up over the year. I fully expected to have multiple nicks.
I sat still, letting Alia destroy the only tangible piece of freedom I’d had over the last year.
“There.” Alia wiped off my scalp with a towel.
My fingers trembled as I reached up to touch my head. The smooth scalp and hairless feeling under my fingertips. Tears sprung to my eyes, a reaction I didn’t expect. I wiped them away with the back of my hand.
“Want to see?” she asked. I nodded, stood up, and walked over to the mirror on the opposite wall.
“Now that’s a girl I recognize,” I said. My pink scalp matched my blushing cheeks. I may have put on a little weight in my cheeks and my lips were fuller, but the face in the mirror was the same girl I knew who was getting ready to turn fifteen nearly a year ago. “Hi,” I said to myself with a little wiggle of my fingers.
Alia smile in the reflection as she cleaned the razor.
“How’s it feel?” she asked.
“A bit like home,” I said. “Now where are those clothes?”
Alia laid down the razor and tossed me the gray linen robe. It was lighter than the robe I wore at Kandek’s, but the climate in the Southern Kingdom was so different than my old home. My old woolen dress would have caused all the slaves here to faint from the heat.
Behind the dressing screen, I pulled the silk gown off over my head and replaced it with the rough linen. I squirmed a bit, trying to get used to the feel. I’d been clothed in fine dresses for only two weeks and already my skin was rejecting common garb. Well, it would just have to get used to it again soon. I didn’t plan to live in a palace my whole life.
Someday I wanted to move into a small cottage, get married, and have children. Mark’s lips flashed in my mind. I pushed the image away. I hadn’t heard from him since the kiss yesterday. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.
“Ready?” Alia asked.
“Ready,” I said, stepping out from behind the screen. She held out her hand.
“You’ll need a guide. You’ve never been out of the palace, have you?”
I shook my head. I’d wanted to ask her to take me but I didn’t want to impose on her any more than I already had.
“You aren’t afraid you’ll be punished if we’re discovered?” I asked.
“I’ve been assigned to you. I do your bidding. That is the way of a slave.” Alia shrugged her shoulders.
“I know,” I said. “But if you don’t want to help me you’re allowed to say so. I’ll dismiss you and find my own way.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I want to go. It’s not often I’m allowed to get outside the palace. Occasionally I can visit my mum and pop too.”
“Both of our parents are still alive and you are a slave?” I was stunned. Everyone I had known was an orphan or sold into slavery by a single parent. I’d never heard of someone becoming a slave while both parents were still alive and together.
“It’s been quite an honor to serve in the palace,” Alia said. “Everyone knows that. Children here compete to join the palace household. Knowing what I know now about you and the council, I’d have to say that the resistance created a wonderful atmosphere and I’ve enjoyed serving here.”
I’d never thought that being a slave might be something to aspire to. It certainly was a different world here in the Southern Kingdom.
“Now, what did you want to see?” Alia asked. “I can take you just about anywhere.”
“I want to see where the first prophet lived,” I said. “Does his home still exist?”
“It does,” she said, “and I know where it is. But it’s been locked and barred for years. No one is allowed in.”
I shook my head, trying to figure out how to get around this. There had to be a way into the house and I was going to find it.
Chapter Eleven
Alia grabbed my hand as we snuck out of my chambers. I didn’t know where to go since I’d been nowhere other than the council chambers and my own room. I was so glad she was willing to help me, not even just willing, but also excited. And she knew the town. I wouldn’t have to spend hours sneaking around on my own trying to figure everything out. I could get right to the business of searching for the missing journal.
We snaked our way through the hallways following the twists and turns as we descended the spire. Alia pulled a huge rusty key out of a pocket and unlocked a door, looked to her right and left and pulled me through. A new, narrow hallway greeted us.
The difference was remarkable. Whereas the main halls were filled with windows and light and beautiful tiles, this hallway was dank. I wrapped my arm
s around myself, warding off a shiver. The walls were built from mortared rocks; the crumbling pebbles were cool to the touch but so rough. I quickly drew back my hand afraid I would be cut.
“Servants’ hallways?” I asked Alia. They were so different from the servant halls back home. Even though we didn’t have windows, the passages were dotted with candles that burned all day and night. The contrast was stark.
“Yes, this is the way to our rooms. Also to the outside. We have a separate entrance and exit than the ruling class.”
“Can I see where you sleep before we leave?” I asked. My curiosity had gotten the better of me. Seeing where Alia lived wouldn’t take more than a few minutes and might give me more of an idea of what her life was like.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go this way.” Alia turned to the right, leading me down another corridor. I pushed images of spiders dangling from the ceiling and rats running along the floor out of my head.
“You don’t have any light in here,” I said. “How do you know where you’re going?”
“It’s confusing at first, but we all learn our way eventually. When I first came to the castle to work as a little girl the older girls told me that someone had once gotten lost in these corridors and no one ever saw her again. Scared me silly. Part of me knew it couldn’t be true. I trembled for about the first month and I spent most of my free time exploring these halls so I would never get lost.”
“That sounds awful,” I said. “How old were you?”
“Six.”
“Six? And you had to learn all of this by yourself?”
Alia shrugged. “That’s the way it is here.”
Perhaps Kandek had been a kinder ruler than I’d known, or maybe the Malborn leader here was more demanding. Alia seemed to accept things the way they were but my experience had been so different. Sure, they had been tough on us, and I had more restrictions placed on me than most slaves, but it was never so frightening or harsh.
Alia led me into a room, darker than the hallways. I saw bedrolls scattered across the floor, thin blankets dropped haphazardly across them and no pillows.
I gasped. “This is where you sleep?”
“It’s not so bad.” She shrugged. “It’s a good escape from the searing sun.”
I thought of the chest in my room on the upper levels. It was filled with blankets, blankets I never used because the warm humidity of the Southern Kingdom wafted in my window every night. I was more apt to kick off a blanket than to reach for one.
Yet down here in the servants’ chambers the humidity chilled me and goose bumps formed on my arms. They could be using my blankets to keep warm at night. They could even use them as a cushion underneath their bedrolls. The dirt floor was hard and dusty. How could Alia sleep here night after night? I couldn’t believe this was a job people aspired to. It strengthed my resolve to find a way to free all the slaves.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” I whispered, too overwhelmed to say much more.
I followed Alia back into the dank hallway, stunned by what I’d learned. It was maddening no one had told me about the living conditions of the servants here. They probably knew I’d demand change and didn’t want to deal with me. After all, I was here only to make a prophecy to support the war they wanted to start.
More secrets and lies. It seemed no matter where I lived or who I encountered I would always have to deal with liars.
At the end of the hall we stopped at a heavy wooden door. Alia pulled out the key again, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. The sunlight streamed into the hall, jabbing my eyes with tiny daggers. I threw my hands over my face, shielding myself from the assault.
Alia laughed. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you to squint your eyes. That’s another thing we learn quickly here. It’s great to get out of the darkness, but the light can hurt just as much too.”
I nodded, opening my eyes bit by bit as the irises adjusted to the increase in light. It was a warm, cloudless day. I was relieved. Even though I’d had a vision yesterday, I didn’t want to be distracted by my gift. Worrying about whether I would have a vision and if I’d be able to control it was something I wanted to leave behind at the palace.
I looked at the palace walls rising up above me. Since I’d been hidden in the palace for the last couple weeks, I’d never realized how beautiful it was from the outside. Three spires rose up to the heavens above three towers. The palace shimmered in the humidity, leaving me with the feeling that it might only be a mirage. I guessed which window was mine, but I wasn’t sure. Walking around in the dark hallways caused me to lose my sense of direction. I was even more grateful for Alia, without her I never would have found my way out and I was sure I couldn’t get back in either.
“That’s yours.” Alia pointed to a different tower than the one I’d been eyeing. I took her arm in mine. No one would think of us as anything other than two slaves who were sent to get goods from the market.
The town sprawled around us in all directions and looked much the same to me as my home, except it was much larger here. My heart fluttered, but I held tight to Alia. My world had been so small for so long. It was hard to expand my comfort boundaries.
“What do you want to do first?” Alia asked.
“I’d like to see the last Prophet’s cottage,” I said.
“We can walk by it,” Alia suggested, “but don’t look at it. There are guards and they won’t even allow a sideways glance. It would get us sent straight back to the palace and you would be found out. Krissin would be angry.”
I nodded. We walked down the dirt street and the smells of the city attacked me from every angle. I breathed in the scent of luscious oranges in the stalls along the street, but the fresh fish, something I’d rarely seen, forced my nose to crinkle. It was unpleasant and metallic and I hoped I’d get used to it. The sweet smell of rising yeast wafted out of bakeries and the noise of children yelling as they ran through the street delighted me. I liked tasting freedom again.
The vendors hawked their wares, yelling from their stalls, holding out their freshest foods. Had I enough money with me, I might have been tempted to spend the day searching for just the right items for dinner. I’d learned how to cook when I lived with Johna, a skill I’d never learned as a child. I loved combining herbs with food and turning them into an all new concoction. The array of options at the market took me by surprise.
“It’s back here,” Alia said, pulling me down an alley away from the bustling crowds. “Don’t look at it directly. You can see it to the right, there are two men standing guard at the doorway. Just walk past as if it’s something you do every day.”
I saw the small cottage ahead. Rough hewn boards and metal hinges studded the door and two palace guards flanked either side of it. They looked bored, as if they’d been given the worst assignment in the city. I didn’t blame them for feeling that way.
After we’d passed by, I asked Alia, “Has there ever been a break-in? Why would they care so much if the place has been emptied?”
“The Malborn were worried we Serenians would make it a place of pilgrimage. Some people probably would. It would cause unrest. No one wants that, so it stays guarded. Now that you’ve seen it, let’s go get some lunch. I’m getting hungry.”
The corners of Alia’s mouth turned up and I nodded in agreement. My stomach had rumbled more than once already.
“There’s a nice little pub around the corner,” Alia said. “It’s clean but not a pub the nobles frequent. No one will even notice you there.”
The sign above the pub’s door featured a picture of a dancing swan.
“The Dancing Swan?” I asked Alia.
She laughed. “You got it!”
We entered into the pub and filled it with light from the afternoon sun. Alia led me to a table and we sat down. I took a look around. It was only the second pub I’d ever been to, the first with Mark. The people here were different. The last pub was in a peasant town, but here there were few women, just a couple other slaves like us
, and the serving girls. Other than that, I felt like we were surrounded by men downing mead.
“Well, look who’s here,” a voice said behind me. “I think you’re right, Mark. It is our favorite slave.”
I whipped around to find myself face to face with Ace. He’d scooted his chair over from the table behind us, trapping me in my chair. I couldn’t get up if I wanted to. I saw Mark behind him, on the other side of their table, a scowl on his face.
Ace’s hair, as long as many women’s but straight as a pile of tinder sticks, hung over his face like a veil. His murderous eyes taunted me, but I refused to drop my gaze.
“You look a little different, sweetheart, but I’d recognize those eyes anywhere,” Ace said, winking at me.
I turned around, hoping if I ignored him he’d go away. What were they doing in town anyway? They were supposed to be camped at the base of the mountains. Mark had said he needed to get back to his men yesterday, but here he was again.
“Leave her alone, Ace,” Mark warned.
“Who are these guys?” Alia whispered.
“No one,” I said through clenched teeth.
“No one?” Ace asked. Obviously he hadn’t taken the hint. “I saved your skinny little butt just two weeks ago and now I’m no one? Not very grateful, are we?”
“I didn’t ask for, or want, your kind of help,” I said, not bothering to turn around.
“Leave her alone.” I heard a scuffle behind me and Alia gasped, her eyes wide. A chair screeched across the floor in front of our table and Ace followed not far behind. I felt Mark’s hand on my shoulder. Ace lay on the floor, tangled with the chair, holding his cheek with his right hand.
“That was uncalled for, Mark,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.
“I told you to leave her alone.”
Ace pulled himself up as the bartender ran over.
