by Brett Vonsik
“Home,” Pax replied matter-of-factly. Pax pointed to several groups of red-plumed guardsmen standing in rectangular formations three across and nine deep near Hunter’s Gate and at the mine entrance near them. More squads of Farratum Tusaa’Ner guarded each of the town’s plateau ramps; several more were in the marketplace, and several more patrolled the smaller streets about Brigum. “I be hidin’ too, with all dis in town.”
South of the mine entrance, Rogaan spotted a squad of Farratum Tusaa’Ner pulling folks from their apartments then interrogating the frightened people in the street, and some of those rather roughly. Fear and anger blended together in a complex weave, giving Rogaan the shivers as he watched. This was not the Brigum he knew. Near Pax’s home, several males and a woman were thrown into the street before were surrounded by Brigum Tusaa’Ner. After a short time, sky-blue uniformed guardsmen ushered the three as bound persons in the direction of the Hall of Laws, prodding them along at spear point. Concentrating on the bound ones, Rogaan made out enough details to suspect who they were, causing him another shiver. He swallowed hard, trying to get the lump out of his throat, but it just remained stuck. Fearing Pax would throw all caution away and charge in recklessly, Rogaan struggled with how to tell Pax his mother was being taken away at spear point. Rogaan could not fathom a reason why she would be arrested. What has she done to anyone? “They are taking people to the Hall of Laws. Pax...I think your mother is one of them.”
Pax kept silent and unmoving for what seemed long moments then rose to get a better view. Rogaan watched him closely, fearing he would launch off the terraces in a hasty and thoughtless outrage of emotions. Scanning the streets with an intensity Rogaan rarely saw in his friend, Pax squinted hard, bobbing his head about before fixing his stare on a group of Tusaa’Ner guardsmen with bound captives walking in front of spears. Pax remained still, but his eyes burned. Rogaan kept his concerned eye on Pax, worried he would chase after her. Rogaan exhaled with relief when Pax looked to be under control and not racing off in an unplanned rescue. Then without warning, Pax exploded to his feet, bounding down the hill toward the Tusaa’Ner and his mother. “Ma!”
Caught off guard despite anticipating Pax’s reaction, Rogaan cursed to the Ancients, then chased off after Pax, running with abandon after his friend. Pax ran straight for the mine entrance, trampling vegetable and berry plants without care. Rogaan struggled in his pursuit, stumbling over strong vines and stakes, but not falling. When Pax bounded down the next to the last terrace, he stumbled and fell hard into a patch of sour tates. Rogaan seized that opportunity to pounce on him with an audible oomph and a small cloud of dust.
“Get off me!” Pax demanded with a shove. “I have ta save me ma.” They tussled, rolling over the budding tates, Pax trying to slip from Rogaan’s grasp and Rogaan desperately trying to keep Pax from getting away.
“Stop, Pax!” Rogaan demanded. “Calm yourself. You will be no help to anyone if you get caught.”
Pax struggled in a burst of twisting and sharp elbows. The blows had little effect on Rogaan. Instead, he worried that his friend had lost his head about him as he held Pax tight around the neck and shoulders, squeezing hard to keep his hold. Pax suddenly went limp in his arms. What happened? What have I done? Frightened that he had injured Pax, Rogaan released his hold then laid his unmoving friend on broken plants. Rogaan called to Pax then shook him, but …nothing. Desperate, Rogaan slapped Pax as he growled at his friend to wake up, but Pax lay unmoving. Rogaan’s throat choked off and he realized he could not breathe. His vision blurred from tears welling up. Did I kill him? No...by the Ancients, please let it not be!
“He killed him,” a woman’s voice proclaimed somewhere behind and above Rogaan.
Whirling about, Rogaan found himself staring into the work-stained faces of nearly a dozen women, mostly middle-aged, though a few were young, just about of age to take a husband, and a few still younger. All were dressed in what used to be white tunics that now bore the brown and green stains of hard labor in the fields. They all stared at Rogaan, and all but one wore shocked and accusing expressions. That last made a disapproving scowl in judgment of what Rogaan thought was his recklessness. He fought an urge to run...to flee from their judging eyes...to run away from trouble. His growing sorrow at what he had done to his friend, started to overwhelm him. Reason became difficult to hold on to. All he knew was that he wanted to run. It did not matter where.
“Hush yourselves,” the woman demanded of the others. She was tall and lean with shoulder-length dark hair touched with gray at the temples. Her sunbaked face bore the wrinkles of being past her middle years, but with eyes sparkling as if she were much younger. She spoke her demand as if expecting everyone to obey without question. Her dirt-stained, knee-length tunic fit loosely except at the waist where a belt, three fingers wide, snugly held everything in place. A bonnet, also white, shielded her face from the sun, leaving her sharp features lost in soft shadows. She purposefully approached Rogaan then knelt next to Pax without speaking a word. Her hands rested upon Pax’s unmoving chest for a moment before she placed her ear near his mouth. A few moments later, she pressed her ear against his chest, where she remained still for what seemed a long time. The other women started whispering -- gossiping, Rogaan thought, amongst themselves, but in fast hushed voices that kept him from discerning their words. Rogaan returned his attention to the woman and Pax, wondering what she was about, while doing his best to ignore the others.
“Your friend still has life in him,” the woman declared as she fixed her green-eyed gaze on Rogaan. Then she scolded, “You take more care. You’re clearly much stronger than you believe, and nearly squeezed the life from this one.”
“How do you know?” Rogaan asked in amazement and relief. He wanted to believe Pax lived, but feared she was either mistaken or lying.
“His chest beats with life,” she said matter-of-factly. “And he still draws breath, barely. He’ll be fine in a time, but none too happy when he wakes with head pains.” She arranged Pax’s arms and legs so he appeared to be resting then ordered the other women to return to their work and not to speak of what they had witnessed. They responded to her words by simply staring back at her with mouths agape, but none protested. The kneeling woman shot a gaze at them that Rogaan immediately felt relieved was not directed at him. The gaggle of women jumped, then scattered without words, a few tossing insatiably curious glances over their shoulders as they returned to their work. Rogaan wondered if they would keep silent. “Who are you, and why have you brought trouble to the fields?” she asked him.
“I am...we are just townsfolk returning home,” Rogaan replied warily. Usually open about giving his name, Rogaan found himself questioning the wisdom of doing so now. His thoughts raced…How am I to explain being on the terraces? He wanted to be convincing, but elusive. He needed to be believed. “Our parents did not give us permission to go on the Hunt, so we snuck back into town to avoid trouble.”
“Well, you have found trouble, you have.” The woman stared at Rogaan with judging eyes. “And for all of us, too.” She looked down to the streets. A deep frown came to her face as she considered something. Returning her gaze to Pax, she spoke. “Farratum’s guardsmen bullied their way about these terraces last night, and again today, searching for two younglings. They told of youngling law-breakers, and to call them out if seen.” She raised her green-eyed gaze to Rogaan. His heart sunk with fear she would do the calling. “I guess you two be in much trouble, but you seem not to be the law-breaking kind.”
Rogaan’s heart skipped a few more beats and his mouth fell open at being accused of being a...Law-breaker? He had not broken the law and still could not think the taking of his shunir’ra deserving enough for Farratum and Brigum Tusaa’Ner to take interest in him, unless it was his father’s doing. Regardless, the town was looking for them, and that did mean trouble. A wave of panic swelled in him, tightening his chest making it difficult to breathe. Rogaan did not know what to do next.What I am g
oing to do? The forest? Give myself up?
“Be calm.” The woman placed a gentle hand on his forearm. Rogaan shot her a questioning look. “Your friend’s name is Pax, is it not? We’ve seen him often here on the terrace. He has helped several of the younger ones with their work.” She shot a scolding glance at the nearest lasses, causing them to nervously inspect their toes with their eyes. “I think he favors them and they him. He has always been kind. And you? I’ve seen you on the north wall arrowing leapers. You seem upstanding enough.” She scanned the terrace as if counting the women, then looked to the town below. A bunch of Tusaa’Ner near Pax’s home had been handing bound prisoners to another group of guards not long ago. The woman’s frown deepened. “I fear trouble has found all of our homes. I don’t know your part in all of this, though you seem blameless. Something about you…. The guards won’t be alerted by me, but some of the others may not be able to keep shut mouths. They are younglings after all.”
Rogaan exhaled loudly with relief. He and Pax were safe for the moment, but he needed to find a safe hiding place. “I thank you.”
“Don’t be so quick to thank me.” The woman laid her stern gaze upon him. “If the guards return while you be here, I’ll call you out to keep everyone on the terraces from being accused of helping you.”
Rogaan smiled as best he could, though he admitted to himself that it was likely not a very good smile. “I thank you, still. You are honest and true and wise, and a good person to keep watch over the others. I will take . . . Pax from here right away.” Rogaan grabbed hold of Pax’s left arm and shirt, readying himself to lift his friend on his shoulders.
“Take ya hands off me!” Pax barked weakly with his eyes still closed. “Ya not be grabbin’ me, again. No. Not again.” Pax opened his eyes then quickly shaded them from the sun with a raised hand. Pax stared at Rogaan. He looked angry. “I told ya were gettin’ stronger, but...no...ya not believe me. Well, ya be stronger than ya think, and it hurts.”
“I do fancy Ulcin and Avea, Mistress Immulla,” Pax said to the woman with a broad, toothy smile. “They have da most pretty eyes and lips as sweet as....”
“Enough, youngling!” Immulla demanded. “Maybe I should have your friend squeeze you again, and a bit tighter this time, just to better your manners.”
Rogaan shot Pax a little smile. He was relieved that Pax was alive and awake and seemed not angry with him. Rogaan promised himself to take more care concerning his strength. “I am sorry for squeezing the air from you. I thought you were about to run into the streets and get caught.”
“I could have made it ta me ma without gettin’ caught,” Pax shot back, his eyes growing wet. “Rogaan, we have ta save her.”
“Your mother…arrested?” Immulla asked with eyes wide.
“I saw her being marched toward the Hall of Laws before he started running,” Rogaan replied.
“How could you see her from up here?” Immulla asked incredulously. When Rogaan did not answer immediately, she let the question go then looked at Pax with sadness. “I heard the guardsmen talk of gathering up families of a smith and someone else, a miner...to suffer the Questioning. Is your father a miner?”
“Ya.” Pax’s eyes looked as if about to overflow. Quickly recovering, he shot Rogaan a fiery gaze. “What do they want? We did nothin’ ta ‘em.”
“I do not know,” Rogaan replied solemnly. He felt tears welling up in his own eyes. “This cannot be about me taking my shunir’ra? Can it? It makes no sense. If this is not about my shunir’ra then what?”
Rogaan fell silent, staring off distantly and lost in his thoughts. Makes no sense. “My mother will be safe. Her family name gives her protection.”
“Me parents not be so lucky.” Pax spat. “We have ta help ‘em. I need ya.” Pax hopped up into a crouch then extended his hand to Rogaan.
Both grasped each other’s hand as they shared determined stares. How are we going to save anyone? Rogaan’s concern was not for Pax’s parents, and he felt guilt and a bit of shame for it. Instead, his worry was for Suhd, that she might be harmed or taken away. That thought made Rogaan angry. “We do this together. Check on Suhd, first?”
Pax nodded in agreement. He wore the most determined look Rogaan had ever seen on his friend. Pax looked to Mistress Immulla. “Thank ya for ya silence, Mistress Immulla. We be leaving da terrace and be no more trouble ta ya.”
She rose, brushed off her knees and tunic then regarded them for a moment. “Yes, trouble you are. Don’t come back, or I will call you out. Farewell, younglings.”
Mistress Immulla returned to the fields and the women tending them. She stole glances at Pax and Rogaan for a while before becoming too busy getting the women to do their work to watch them. Rogaan and Pax watched her for a short while, still from fear being called out. True to her word, she directed the other women back to their chores, and told them to keep to themselves. They would not betray Rogaan and Pax, at least for now. Satisfied, Rogaan and Pax set off to find Suhd then Pax’s mother, Pax impatient to get to the task. They quickly made their way off the terraces to a spot behind the building sheltering the mine entrance: a rough wood- planked and tarred-roofed structure over forty strides long of rough-cut gray stone three strides high and no windows on the terrace side. Piles of rocks, dirt, and discarded tools littered the sides of the building in no particular order, offering plenty of places to hide. They crept into the morning shadows at the western side of the main building where a small wood shack and a large stack of timbers provided concealment from the street beyond.
Before Rogaan could catch his breath, Pax danced around the timbers to the stone building where he peeked at the street from a shadowy corner. A short but harsh tremor shook the ground and building. Pax paused while the tremor had its way with the world, then made a quick hand wave for Rogaan to follow, then jumped around that corner and out of sight. Rogaan’s heart felt like it would jump out of his chest. What is Pax doing? He followed despite his fear of what might be waiting for him. From the corner of the building, Rogaan stole a look at the street and was relieved to see only a small gathering of talkative miners making their way east, away from the mine and toward the Dusty Shovel tavern. Pax walked at the back of the group, waving at Rogaan to join him. Rogaan chased after Pax, hoping they would pass as miners returning home after a night of work down below. He and Pax certainly looked right for it, covered in dirt and sweat, and smelling of it. The miners were talking of the Tusaa’Ner and of events of the morning. Apparently, the town’s Tusaa’Ner accompanied by Farratum Tusaa’Ner arrested several town folk and took them away; one of them was Pax’s father. Why? Rogaan watched Pax look from miner to miner anxiously while biting his lower lip, hoping they would tell more of his father. He feared Pax would not keep his tongue, though he did not really expect him to. After all, it was Pax.
Rogaan noticed several of the miners realized that Pax was following them, but they kept their tongues and said nothing to him, nor did they appear about to call to the guardsmen. Hope rose within Rogaan…not everyone was out to get them. When the miners neared the Dusty Shovel, Pax darted into the alley at the west side the tavern. Rogaan followed closely. The odor of urine and feces and other things he did not want to know smacked him the instant he stepped into the narrow dirt alley. He wondered why chamber pots were dumped here. Did not the town collect garbage and chamber pot stuff daily? The stench worsened as they moved deeper between the buildings, causing Rogaan to fight down a retching urge. He hoped they would soon escape these foul smells, as he was uncertain how long he could keep his stomach down. To his relief, they emerged into a yard with a stand of fig trees and decorative bushes lining the street. Pax kept a fast pace, passing the trees, and into another narrow space between rust-colored brick buildings that was almost too small for Rogaan to fit. Pax appeared to not to have trouble navigating the narrows, and seemed not to notice Rogaan lagging behind. He was focused in a way Rogaan had never seen him before. As they darted between buildings, racing th
rough the neighborhood with almost reckless abandon, patrolling groups of Tusaa’Ner narrowly missed sighting them several times. Fortunately, Pax’s knowledge of the streets and narrows kept them hidden until they set foot on the familiar wooden steps leading up to his family’s apartment.
The rust-colored brick building was home to four families, two on the bottom and two on the second floor. Small yellow painted wooden-shuttered windows, irregularly spaced on the outer walls, were closed despite the warmth of the morning. Yellow wooden doors to the apartments stood closed where they usually were open during the day to allow for cooling breezes. The roof was of simple wood covered in tar that didn’t always keep out the rain, as Rogaan recalled from several visits this past year. Pax bounded up the wooden steps to the second floor then disappeared into his apartment. Rogaan followed. The apartment’s main room was small, at least compared to the rooms in Rogaan’s home. The apartment had four rooms in all; the common room where he stood that was a little bigger than twice that of his own resting room in his house, and three others about half the size where Pax, Suhd, and their parents slept. A twinge of guilt swept Rogaan when he realized he was comparing his home to that of his friend. Pax’s and Suhd’s parents worked hard for what they had. Their father, Daugu, was a miner, and from what Pax told him, also an experienced sailing boatman. Their mother, Phobe, cleaned homes, taverns, and any other place she could get a job straightening up. Despite their best efforts, they rarely seemed to have coin for anything other than the basic needs. Pax finished a hasty look about the apartment and found it empty and wrecked. The furniture and a shelf with its contents were thrown about and in disarray. Something had happened here, and it was not good for Pax’s family.
With a curse at the Ancients, Pax brushed by Rogaan on his way to the balcony outside. He paused for a moment looking up at the sky, before angrily stomping down the steps. Rogaan followed close, now concerned for Suhd’s well-being. As Pax reached the bottom step, Suhd burst out of the apartment and onto the balcony wearing a stained white knee-length tunic, her raven hair in disarray. She ran down the stairs in a rush past Rogaan, jumping into her brother’s arms, her body slamming into him so hard that they almost went tumbling as Pax’s wide-brimmed hat flew from his head. She grasped him tight and hysterically sobbed into her brother’s chest while mumbling something Rogaan was not able to make out. The pain on his friend’s face was almost unbearable to watch. In the years Rogaan and Pax had been friends, never had Pax so openly showed pain touching him. Pax hid such with impish smiles and deflective talk, or by directing attention away from himself in some manner. This was different. Pax did not even attempt to hide his pain as tears streamed down his face.
