by Tam Linsey
The unknown man said, “Put him to sleep now, or I’ll go to Sefe.”
Ana bent to his mouth again. “We must all learn to accept the death of those dear to us.”
As the king took Eily’s arm and guided her toward two cages, her heart hammered so hard she could barely breathe. He wasn’t rough, but it was obvious he wouldn’t tolerate resistance. His palm seemed to burn into her skin. The people in the cavern melted away from his approach in a smooth wave.
He pointed to a cage. “You must look after your friend.”
Inside, Pulo lay on his back atop a pile of dirty blankets. She searched for Wint and Jubal, but the second cage was empty. “Where are the others?”
“I do not want him to die.” Sefe’s dark eyes skewered her. He pushed her through the open door. Another man closed the bars and secured them.
She was a prisoner. Sefe was going to send her to the Fosselites. Blackness pressed at the edges of her vision. She should help Pulo, but all she could do was sink to her knees.
“You need these?” Rann thrust a hand through the bars. The pill box rested on his open palm.
She grasped his wrist, sending the box thudding to the dirt floor. “Don’t send me to the Fosselites. I’ll do whatever you want.”
He tilted his head, upper lip drawn into a sneer. “I don’t need your permission anymore.”
“Where’s your brother?” Her gaze flicked toward the firepit and her stomach roiled. Would Rann kill his brother to save his own skin?
Rann’s face twitched, but his eyes softened. He jerked his hand free and turned to Sefe. “I’ve paid back your Flame Runna.”
Sefe tapped his mouth with a forefinger, his gaze on Eily. “Mmm.” He jerked his head in dismissal. “Take your brother and go.”
The tightness in Eily’s chest eased a little, making room for her thundering heart. Jubal wasn’t dead. He wasn’t the one tied to the spit.
But she was still a prisoner. Had the traders intended to betray her all along? Jubal had promised to protect her. He’d claimed her as wife. If he’d meant to hand her to Sefe he wouldn’t have bothered with separating everyone and hiding her. So where was he?
Rann glanced at her one last time and pushed through the crowd, leaving her with a sea of staring faces. How could she escape from this?
She shifted her gaze to Pulo. Sweat beaded his face, and his eyes shifted rapidly beneath his closed lids. She placed her fingers against his clammy cheek. He showed no fresh bruises, only the black ones Rann had given him two nights ago. Had it only been two nights? If he hadn’t been beaten or tortured, what was wrong with him? He should’ve overcome the alkaloids from the sunstorm by now.
“Where’s Wint?” She looked up at the strange faces and remembered she was speaking to a crowd of cannibals.
“The weak one died.” Sefe crossed his scarred arms.
Her face tightened as she battled tears. First Lisius, then Gid, and now Wint and Pulo. No, not Pulo. Not if she could help it. She snatched the box and opened it. Only three pills remained. Her mouth dropped open. “How many did you give him?”
Sefe shrugged. “The magic doesn’t work.”
The horror inside her burst into white hot fury. “You gave him an overdose!”
“Can you heal him?”
“He needs a Flame Runna Healer.” She pulled Pulo’s shoulder, trying to get him onto his side. Perhaps she could make him vomit the pills. “Someone help me. I can’t do it by myself.”
Sefe’s mouth turned down. “Bring Ana,” he said over his shoulder.
The crowd parted again, a murmur sweeping the cave. After a few moments, Ana appeared. She kept her eyes off Eily, staring instead at the wall behind the cage. “Yes?”
“Your sister needs your help.”
Ana turned her head to speak to Sefe. “He cannot be saved.”
Sefe only stared at her. One of the warriors opened the cage door and her jaw muscles flexed, but she didn’t argue further. She stepped through the door, her beaded skirt swaying. The door latched behind her.
“Hold him on his side so he doesn’t choke,” Eily said. “I’ll make him throw up.”
Ana eased herself to her knees at Pulo’s back and braced him. Eily pulled Pulo’s chin down and thrust two fingers into his mouth as far as they would go. He heaved mucous and a few white fragments of pills over her hand. The pills were designed to counteract the toxic chemicals the chloroplasts produced under UV light. Eily wasn’t positive about what an overdose would do, but the label said to take no more than five pills a day. There had to have been thirty-five or forty pills in the box.
“You can’t save him.” Ana stared at the mess.
Eily wiped her hand on the corner of a dirty blanket. Ana might be right, but her sister’s hopelessness made the back of Eily’s throat ache. Ana had lived like this so long, she’d forgotten how to fight. I’ll have to fight for both of us. Eily reached out and put a hand against Ana’s swollen belly. All three of us. But she didn’t know how.
Ana’s stomach muscles tightened beneath Eily’s palm. Her eyes narrowed as if in pain. “Sefe wants Spirit Healer children.”
In Ana’s dark gaze, Eily saw terror. Desperation. How could she give her sister hope? The only chance for the baby was the Protectorate. “You need a doctor,” Eily said, intentionally using the Haldanian word for Healer. Then she said, a little louder so Sefe might hear. “The baby will die without Flame Runna medicine.”
To Eily’s surprise, Ana’s brows drew into an angry line. She lurched to her feet, her mouth stretched wide over her gritted teeth. “A girl child will live.”
Arms crossed, Sefe stared at Ana with his lips pressed into a tight line. His scars made his emotion difficult to read in the firelight, but Eily knew Ana was afraid of him. Afraid of losing this baby. What would happen if she did? Eily wouldn’t contradict her sister’s claim in front of the king, but she had to speak to Ana alone. They had to get her out of here.
Ana pressed both palms flat against the sides of her abdomen, took a deep breath, and let it out through pursed lips. “A girl will live.”
Sefe spoke to the man at the door. “Let her out.”
The hunter opened the door, and Eily fumbled for an excuse to keep Ana with her. “What about Wint? Did he take these pills, too?”
Ana shrugged. She was breathing hard and tight lines touched her eyes. “I wasn’t there. You’d have to ask your man.”
“Jubal? Where is he?”
“He’s safe.” Ana turned away to face the cage door.
Eily could feel the crowd watching her every move. She needed them to go away. She needed time alone with Ana. She turned to Sefe. “I still need her help.”
Sefe’s mouth widened into a knowing grin. “And you wish to talk with your sister.” He shifted his attention to Ana. “My consort may do as she pleases. Ana?”
In response, Ana doubled over, her arms wrapped around her middle. A small moan threaded between her lips. “Not now.”
Eily jumped to her feet, both hands out to support her sister. A line of blood rolled down the inside of Ana’s knee.
Ana closed her eyes and took an unsteady step forward. “It’s too soon.”
Eily looked up at Sefe. “The baby is coming.”
What felt like a rock poked Jubal in the kidney, but he couldn’t seem to gather the will to sit up or shift. The rattle of wheels over stone jostled his bones, and his stomach churned with the movement. He struggled to open heavy eyes, blinking slowly. Overhead, a lavender sky spun out of control, so he squeezed his lids shut again. The gurgle of a river whispered to his right. His head bounced, then the movement stopped. Something heavy settled near his left leg.
“This is the last cache? Loose that rope,” Rann’s voice at his feet.
Pressure on Jubal’s midsection eased. A goat bleated near his head. My goats? “Mmmm,” he let out, trying to move.
“He’s waking up.” Was that Rodi? Where were they?
“Good. He can
walk,” Rann said.
A rope snaked off his bare chest, leaving a slight burning sensation. Still trying to orient himself, he rolled to his right. He flopped to the gritty earth, the air exploding from his lungs. Blinking, he brought Rodi’s face into focus.
She squatted next to him. “Are you okay?”
“Where...” his voice came out as a wheeze. He cleared his throat, pulling threads of memory back together. “Where are we?”
“I saved us. Take your pack,” Rann said.
The familiar weight of his pack slumped against his elbow. He rocked upright to his knees. Unable to stop his momentum, he toppled over backwards.
“I don’t think he can walk yet,” Rodi said.
“Where’s my staff?” Jubal asked. His limbs felt heavy. He wanted to go back to sleep.
“You can make a new one.” Rann gripped Jubal’s arm and jerked him to a sitting position. “You’re lucky I got both packs.”
A sick feeling settled into Jubal’s gut. He sagged back, catching himself on one elbow. “Eily.”
“Your rotting Flame Runna is gone.” Rann returned to pulling rocks away from a cairn. “Now get up.”
“You had no right to trade her, Rann.” Jubal’s supporting arm trembled, too weak to lift him higher. He refused to collapse again. “I have to save her.”
Rodi cocked her head, her face a contrast of light and shadows. “Nonsense. Have you been eating amarantox?”
“He let her magic him. That’s all,” Rann said. “If it weren’t for me, we’d both be roasting next to Pops right now.”
“I claimed her children,” Jubal gritted between his teeth. “She’s not just any Flame Runna.”
Rodi crossed her arms. “You swore you’d never take a woman. You sure she didn’t magic you?”
“Rodi, you think I’d claim her lightly?”
“But she’s a Flame Runna.”
He sucked in a breath, steadying his fuzzy thoughts. “She’s more than that. Special. I have to protect her.”
Rann fished a stack of terra cotta pots from a hollow beneath the cairn and loaded them onto the cart. “It’s too late now. Put her behind you. We have to go.”
“I’m not leaving her.” Jubal swallowed against the helplessness in his chest.
“I’ve already used up the whole day finding where you left our caches. Sefe could be after us at any moment. I’m not going to risk my life to protect a Flame Runna,” Rann said.
“You love her?” Rodi asked.
Jubal nodded.
In a slow, soft voice, like she feared being overheard, Rodi said, “I may be able to help.”
Rann snorted and threw a rope over the cart to tie the load.
Jubal took a deep breath and commanded his arm to push him to sitting.
Rodi scooted closer. “There are those at the Taguan who oppose Sefe’s hunger for Flame Runnas. He’s lured too many hunters to join the One Tree, using Flame Runna magic as payment. Now the Taguan is controlled by men who take what they want when they want it. Men who force themselves upon us without claiming our children. Who eat our manna cakes without lifting a hand to harvest or store.”
“We can’t go back,” Rann said. “He’ll kill me.”
Rodi continued speaking to Jubal. “We’d like to see the hunters gone. But as long as Sefe has Flame Runnas, they will come.”
“Sneak the Flame Runnas out. We’ll take them far away,” Jubal promised.
Rodi shook her head. “Ana won’t leave. She likes her position here.” She turned to Rann. “I think she may have helped that first Flame Runna escape. To eliminate competition.”
Rann stepped around the cart, hands balled into fists. “She let the Flame Runna free?”
“She came to your father every day after you left.” Rodi said. “Supposedly to ease his suffering. One day I overheard her whispering apologies to him.”
Rann glared at Jubal. “See?”
A pang of guilt entered Jubal’s heart. Ana had freed the other prisoner and allowed Rann to take the blame? He recalled her cold, black eyes on him when he’d arrived with Pulo.
Rodi continued. “My people want Ana and all the other Flame Runnas gone.”
Pacing in front of the cart, Rann seemed ready to explode. “She should be my slave. She owes me.”
“We don’t care what you do with her,” Rodi said. “We’ve thought of killing her, but too many feared the ire of Sefe and his men. If she were to disappear now, he’d assume she ran away with her sister.”
“What do we need to do?” Jubal asked.
Rann stopped pacing, shoulders slumped. “We can’t go back.”
“Sefe cannot deny your participation in your father’s flesh-feast. That gives us a little time to work out the details.”
Jubal shook his head. “He’ll just get more, Rodi. He has Eily’s box to call the flying machines.”
Rann squatted next to them. “That’s what I’m saying. We can’t go back. Not even for Pops’s flesh-feast. I took the beacon.”
Rodi sucked in a breath. “You took it? How? I saw it on Sefe’s platform when we carried Jubal out.”
“I left the box. I just took what was inside. I wasn’t about to let the man who stole my father have everything.”
Jubal started to laugh. It was all he could do. “Of course you’d ruin this plan, too.”
“I told you I didn’t free that Flame Runna.” Rann shoved Jubal’s shoulder. “And I just saved your life. You should apologize.”
The cold anger against Jubal’s spine gave him the strength to rise to his feet. He longed for the support of his staff. “You betrayed me. Your own brother.”
“You were going to leave me there. At least I didn’t abandon you.”
“You sold my woman into slavery. She’s family.”
Rann crossed his arms. “Not my family.”
Jubal gritted his teeth. “Just give me the beacon.”
“Fine,” Without taking his eyes off Jubal, Rann stuck his hand into the loaded cart. He withdrew a leather pouch. Pulling back his arm, he threw it hard against Jubal’s chest. The sack bounced and hit the ground.
Jubal bent and gathered the bag. Pulling open the drawstring, he shook the device out into his palm. The strange, brittle material had a jagged, open crack stretching from the button, over one edge, and down the other. Something inside the crack blinked red.
Jubal’s insides tightened—the button was depressed. He looked up at his brother, eyes wide. “What have you done?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Haldanian Protectorate
The com at Rael’s bedside beeped. He opened one eye to the stars gleaming through the transparent roof of his bedroom. With a grunt, he rolled over and toggled the receiver. “You are waking an old man from his much-needed rest.”
“Sir, this is Breden over at Com Ops. The beacon has been activated.”
Rael looked at the clock. Midnight. If the reversions had activated the beacon because of the Fosselites, he didn’t want to get in the way. He smiled. “Thank you, Breden. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” The com cut off.
Rael stared up at the stars and tried unsuccessfully to sleep. By morning, his eyes burned, but he leapt from his bed anyway. He donned his best gold-link necklace and matching ear bands and called a skimmer to drive him to the office. The sun sparkled off the buildings. As they passed the Gardens, he glanced with contentment at the children playing inside the protected walls. Upon reaching the Leibert Building, he stepped out of the skimmer and raised his face to the sky, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. He pictured a Fosselite hooked to a spinal shunt, those disgusting red eyes rolling back as the neurotoxin took hold. His city would soon have one less threat against it.
He opened the mirrored door and entered the climate-controlled hallway. At his office, he greeted his aide and set to work on his daily tasks and forms, humming under his breath as he worked. By afternoon, as the sun streamed in through the
ceiling above the concrete-block walls, he leaned back in his chair and decided he’d earned a well-deserved nap.
What felt like moments later, his aide shook him by the shoulder. “Sir, you have an emergency call on line one.”
“Hmm? Who is it?”
“The Holdout Liaison, Ijon. He says a member of the Doomseeds party has returned.”
Rael sat up, blinking back brightness. But the beacon is still out on the Reaches. Eily must have left it behind with the reversions. He tapped a finger against his lips. Although he would have sacrificed her to the plan, her return eased his conscience. He toggled the com screen. Ijon appeared, wearing his usual sleeveless blue tunic in a ludicrous attempt to placate the Holdout tradition of modesty.
Rael chose a grandfatherly smile as he greeted the liaison. “Ijon. This is Councilman Rael. I hear you have good news.”
“Sir, the native, Gideon Yoder, has returned to the compound.” Ijon leaned closer to the camera. “He says the rest of the party needs help.”
Rael hesitated for a moment, trying to recall Gideon Yoder. The Holdout man had barely registered on his consciousness when the party left for the Reaches. “What about the Reversion Specialist, Eily?”
“Mr. Yoder arrived alone.” Ijon shook his head. “Well, not alone. With a party of cannibals. They want conversion.”
Rael drew back. “Cannibals?”
“Four men and a woman, sir. Do you want them to enter screening here at the Holdout? Or should I send them to the main lab?”
Rael scanned his desk’s blank surface, as if it might provide an answer. Policy was to offer conversion to any who didn’t resist capture. But adults never surrendered. After Burn Ops did their job, the only ones left to convert were children. Children conformed well to Protectorate doctrine; they generally became acceptable citizens.
But these weren’t children. What were these cannibals up to? He didn’t have time to risk an infiltration plot right now. He had to finish the Doomseeds project. “Send them to euthanization,” Rael said.
Ijon frowned. “But, sir, they laid down their weapons.”