by B. K. Boes
When Imrah finally arrived at the humble lower sector home, Lapuro greeted Imrah with a gentle hug. “Come in,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Imrah came inside as Lapuro stepped away from the doorway to make room for her in the small hall. Imrah latched the heavy curtain closed again behind her, securing three little hooks into their corresponding metal loops set into the doorframe. “I’ve been meaning to come down, anyway.” Imrah held out the basket. “To thank you again for your help.”
The older woman accepted the bread and slowly made her way to the kitchen. “Such a sweet girl.” She shook her finger and smiled. “But I know what you’ve come for.”
Lapuro set the basket on the rough stone slab meant as a table. Every step seemed a challenge to the old woman, but she made it to the wall near the small stove and wriggled half of a stone free. Most of the stones in her walls were cracked and in need of repair. Behind the stone, Lapuro pulled out a folded piece of paper and a small pouch, much like the one filled with umro Imrah had been given not so long ago. She set the pouch on the table and held out the letter.
Imrah eagerly took it from her and unfolded it carefully. It was in Old Ergonian, like the first note she’d gotten. Her shoulders slumped a little. “It took me two days to translate the last note, and it was much shorter than this.”
Lapuro held out her hand. “I’ll read it for you,” she said.
Imrah raised her eyebrows as she handed it over. “You know Old Ergonian? Are you from there, too?”
“No, I am not,” Lapuro said. “I was born right here in Sydor, actually.”
“Then how do you—”
“Do you want me to read you the letter or not? How I came to know Old Ergonian is a long story that would take the rest of the day to tell. It’s either the letter or the story, child.” Lapuro waited with the letter in hand.
“The letter,” Imrah said. “And maybe the story another time?”
Lapuro chuckled. “Maybe,” she said. “Now, about your son…” She unfolded the letter and held it up. “Ah. Here we are.” She began to read the letter, sometimes pausing to remember a word.
My friend,
I have found a home for Nasheer, and as it is with my sister and her husband, I can assure you it is a good home. They are taking him in as a Legacy Child as my sister hasn’t been able to bear any children. Nasheer will be raised as their own and inherit my brother-in-law’s estate. They already love him dearly, and when I left him, he was smiling and comfortable in my sister’s arms. As often as I am able, I will send you word about your son.
Be sure to burn this letter after reading it, and do not attempt to reply.
You are ever in my prayers,
P.
Lapuro handed it back to Imrah and pointed to the stove. “You can burn it before you go,” she said.
“Can I look it over one more time?” Imrah asked.
The old woman smiled. “Take your time, child. But first, I have something else for you.”
“Oh?” Imrah looked up.
She put a finger on the pouch she’d laid on the table. “This is marro. It will end your ability to bear a child.”
“You mean I won’t ever have to do this again?” She had been dreading getting pregnant again since she sent Nasheer away.
“Not if you don’t want to,” Lapuro said. “You could still have a girl, if you wanted to try. I know from experience that having a child you can keep is a blessing beyond words.”
Imrah didn’t have to think about it. Besides Anakai and Nasheer, she’d had a stillborn child and a miscarriage. Four times her heart had been crushed in one way or another.
“Give it to me,” she said.
“It will cause you to be very sick for a few days,” Lapuro said. “But once it has run its course, you will be barren.”
Imrah took it and slipped it inside her satchel. “Thank you,” she said.
Lapuro nodded and went to the little stove to stoke the fire within. “You want some tea?”
“I would love some,” Imrah said as she began to read the letter once more. The language was easy to decipher once she’d heard the contents. As Lapuro set a chipped cup on the table in front of her, the bell outside her door jingled.
“Are you expecting someone?” Imrah stood, her heart jumping into her throat. She’d been so careful, but always in the back of her mind was the thought that what she had done to save her son would be discovered.
“Calm down, girl.” Lapuro hobbled past Imrah, patting her arm on the way out of the kitchen. “This should be my granddaughter, Illya.”
Imrah quickly tucked the paper into the small satchel slung over her shoulder. Then she peeked around the corner into the hallway, watching as Lapuro opened the curtain. She sighed in relief as a young woman entered, full with pregnancy. Illya seemed surprised to find Imrah there.
“Is everything all right?” Illya stepped between her grandmother and Imrah. She had large brown eyes like Lapuro, now narrowed suspiciously at Imrah.
“You two girls have too much in common,” Lapuro gestured toward Imrah. “This is my friend, Imrah. She’s the one I told you about.”
Illya looked skeptical, and Imrah wondered what it was that Lapuro told her granddaughter. “Grandmother, I—”
“Nonsense,” Lapuro gave her a light push. “Go on, Illya. To the kitchen. I can’t get by both you and my great-grandchild.”
The pregnant woman pressed her hands against the small of her back and came down the hallway. Imrah made room, and Illya sat on one of the makeshift rock stools.
Lapuro followed. “Do you mind if I sit?” she asked Imrah.
“Of course not,” Imrah said, moving away from the only other stool. She made herself comfortable on the floor while Lapuro carefully lowered herself to sit.
“Now.” Lapuro leaned over and covered the newcomer’s hand with her own. “I want you to listen, Illya. Really listen.”
Illya looked at Imrah. “Sorry,” she said, nervously looking back at Lapuro. “My grandmother is getting old and imaginative. She’s told me there’s a way to get her grandchild out of Adikea. I told her it isn’t done. Are you with child as well? Has she roped you into this fantasy?”
Imrah’s heart stopped. No one is supposed to know. What I’ve done is supposed to remain secret.
Then her heart began to pound. Breathing became harder.
“Are you feeling well?” Illya asked.
Imrah couldn’t speak. She stared at Lapuro. This could be the end of her. If Illya chose to tell someone…
“Oh, stop panicking. Prestis has approved,” Lapuro said, her voice chastising. “And I know my granddaughter. She hates Adikea with everything in her. I would never have told her anything if I thought she’d betray you.”
Illya’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She snapped her head toward Imrah. “What is she talking about? What trouble have you brought to her doorstep?”
Imrah tried to answer, but all she could do was stumble over her words in her surprise.
“She didn’t bring the trouble.” Lapuro tapped her fingers on the stone slab. “If anything, I brought myself trouble. I’ve been a sort of… liaison… or asset, you could say, to the Eikonians since I was younger than you are now.”
“What?” Illya’s voice raised, and she stood. “That’s impossible. I would have known!”
“I’m good at what I do.” Lapuro raised her chin slightly. “I used to be better, in my younger days.”
Imrah’s jaw dropped at that. “Part of your story, I assume?”
The old woman chuckled. “Do you think I accidentally fell into this with you? Once, I was young and angry and full of spite. And an Eikonian spy saw it in me. He made me who I am today, taught me how to fight back, and I loved him for it.” There was a bit of sadness in her voice at the mention of him. “And I still do.”
“Grandmother!” Illya backed away and leaned on the wall. “An Eikonian spy? Do you hear yourself?”
“W
hat happened to him?” Imrah asked, thinking of how Prestis had pulled her in. He was a spy of sorts, after all. An Eikonian ambassador with secret agendas.
“He died. A long time ago.” Lapuro held up her hand against further questions. “But that isn’t what we’re all here to discuss.” She met Imrah’s eyes. “Are you willing to tell your story? For the sake of my great-grandchild?”
Lapuro seemed so sure of her granddaughter’s loyalties. Imrah dried her sweaty palms on her skirt and took a good look at Illya.
Lapuro’s granddaughter. Young and pregnant. Can I trust her? Imrah finally sighed, resigned. Lapuro had done so much for her. How could she refuse this request? She knew Prestis wanted to save more boys. The few times she’d come to see Lapuro over the last two cycles, they’d spoken about the developing plans. But are we ready to bring in others? It worked once… will we get away with it again?
She swallowed her inhibitions when she met Lapuro’s pleading eyes. That woman would forever have Imrah’s loyalty for the part she played in Nasheer’s rescue. Imrah faced Illya from her spot on the floor.
“The plan is to only take the boys, from what I understand,” Imrah said. “Girls aren’t treated well here, but they aren’t turned into monsters. They will live long lives and be able to maintain their relationship with their mothers. The boys are the ones who will be sent away to die or become Adikean warriors. Illya, if your baby is a girl, she will have to stay. If it’s a boy, though, we can try to save him.”
Illya took in Imrah’s words in silence, her eyes closed, mouth pressed together in a thin line. She sat back down at the table. Her eyes focused on her rounded belly, and she rested her hands there. Finally, she looked up. “How?” she asked, her voice determined.
“There’s a substance called umro made in Northern Eikon from moss. It…” Imrah stopped and remembered her first reaction to what she was about to say, and she prepared herself for a similar reaction. “It makes it so the boys seem dead for a few days.”
Illya shifted in her seat as she bit her lower lip. She looked at her grandmother, took a deep breath, and then asked, “What happens next?”
Her response surprised Imrah, but she continued. “The child is sent out on a death barge, as is customary. I’m not entirely sure how, but the child is gathered farther out to sea and taken to Eikon.”
Illya’s face hardened, and her body looked rigid. “And what are the risks?”
“The child could die from the umro, though I believe the risk is low. There is a risk the child will die at sea if their barge is somehow lost or those that work to rescue them have complications.”
“But your son was saved?”
“Yes,” Imrah said. “I received word of him today.” She smiled. “He’s a Legacy Child in Eikon. He’s found a home. And Lapuro has given me another substance, for myself. She says it will make me barren. I’m going to take it tonight.”
“It will cause her a great amount of pain for a few days,” Lapuro said. “I will procure a dose for you, as well, if you want it after you’ve given birth.”
Illya was quiet for a long time. Finally, she stood, and Imrah stood with her, waiting to find out what she would say.
“If my child is a boy…” Illya paused, clearly trying to keep her composure. She squared her shoulders and met Imrah’s eyes. “If my child is a boy, I will consider this further.” Illya came to her grandmother and kissed her cheek. “I’ll come to see you once I’ve had the child and am able to walk across the city. You’ll have my answer then.”
Before she left the room, she glanced at Imrah. “This thing you’ve done is dangerous. But I can’t help but admire you for it. Though they don’t know it, you’ve taken something from Adikea.” Illya bowed her head in a sign of respect. “Thank you,” she said.
When she was gone, Imrah realized her legs were shaking. She didn’t try to conceal her frustration. “You should have warned me.”
“Would you have come?” Lapuro asked.
“Yes,” Imrah said, and then, “I don’t know.”
“You’ve started something, Imrah.” Lapuro leaned back on her stool to rest her back on the wall. “Because you risked it first, other women will follow. This little rebellion of yours will accomplish great things. I can feel it.”
“Mine?” Imrah sat at the table. “Whatever is happening has nothing to do with me.”
“Oh, child,” Lapuro said. “Whether you like it or not, you started this. You were brave enough to approach the ambassador. You inspired the entire idea.”
Imrah looked away. “But I’m no one. I just wanted to save my son. I can’t do more than that. I’m just a slave-wife.”
“And what was it that you just did?” Lapuro rested her elbows on the stone slab. “I tried to convince Illya there was a way, but she waved it off as the ramblings of an old woman. But you,” Lapuro reached across the table with an open hand, and Imrah took it. “You, child, spoke to her out of victory, and she listened.”
Imrah swallowed hard. She brought out the ambassador’s message and looked it over once again. She thought of her son, living a normal life in Eikon. It warmed her heart and gave her hope.
This feeling… other women could have this, too. I could help steal back our sons from Adikea.
Imrah folded the paper down to a small square, kissed it, and walked over to Lapuro’s small stove. She opened the iron door, threw the note into the fire, and watched it burn. As the evidence of her son’s survival was eaten by the flames, Imrah felt a resolve building inside her. She remembered the loss of her first son, the gaping hole it left in her heart.
No woman should lose a son to the canyons.
The last of the paper dissolved in the fire.
She turned to face Lapuro. “I’ll talk to any woman you find, as long as you’re sure they have no loyalty to Adikea. We must be careful. I know you were born here, that your granddaughter was, too, but most slave-wives born in the system don’t know any better. They’ve bought into the lie that they belong here. But for a woman willing to fight to save her son, I’ll do whatever it takes to help make that happen.”
Lapuro nodded. “I never doubted it.”
PART II
Almost Two Years Later
Chapter Twenty-One
Moloch
Bastra Military Compound, Eikon
2nd Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
Moloch rolled left as his opponent, Trist, swung hard at his jaw. He landed in a crouch, balanced himself, and swept his leg across the floor to meet Trist’s shins. His opponent tripped, and Moloch used the moment of distraction to straddle Trist’s back and catch him in a choke hold.
The younger soldier-in-training struggled for a moment, but when it was clear Moloch had him pinned for good, the moderator called the win for the last bout of the day.
There were eight battle squares in Bastra’s sparring yard, and this one was lined with onlookers. They’d been cheering for one or the other since the match began. Now, half the crowd moaned while the other half howled their congratulations. Moloch stood and helped Trist to his feet.
“Good match,” he said.
Trist grinned. “Next time we’ll do a little sword play.”
Moloch laughed. “I’m no fool. I’ve seen you fight with a sword. But maybe you can teach me a few tricks some time.”
“And give away all my secrets?” Trist’s grin spread wide. “How am I supposed to beat you if I reveal my ingenious tactics?”
Moloch clapped Trist on the shoulder. “Friend, from what I’ve seen, you don’t have much to worry about.” He left it at that and turned to find Bram at the edge of the courtyard. He was scowling and digging through a leather pouch. As Moloch approached, Bram slapped two coins into a young man’s outstretched hand.
“Did you bet against me?” Moloch smirked as the young man made off with Bram’s coins. “Are sparring yard commanders even allowed to do that?”
“It’s a gray area,” Bram shrugged. �
��And you’ve been off lately. I thought I had a good bet.”
“You deserved to lose coin.” Moloch searched the dispersing crowd. “Is Zuria here yet?”
“Haven’t seen him. Must still be at the smithy’s.”
“He’s lost track of time again.” Moloch wiped the sweat off his brow. “I’ll go get him. We’ll both visit the bath house and get cleaned up, then we’ll meet you at the gate.”
“Will do,” Bram said. “I’m gonna grab a bite of that shepherd’s pie they’re making in the Dining Hall.”
“You can eat at the palace kitchens,” Moloch said, “But I guess there wouldn’t be a certain woman named Marna to flirt with, eh?”
Bram blushed, but recovered quickly. He narrowed his eyes. “I like shepherd’s pie,” he said. “It happens to be my favorite.”
“All right.” Moloch grinned. “If you say so.”
“I’ll meet you at the gate in an hour.” Bram waved off Moloch’s teasing, and stalked toward the Dining Hall.
It had pleased Moloch when Bram decided to take up an old post at Bastra and be a sparring yard commander again. He still acted as a personal bodyguard when Moloch needed to leave the premises, but other than that, the man had a bit of a break from following Moloch from one corner of the North to the other. Though Bram was indispensable, it was nice for Moloch to walk freely down the streets of Bastra without him constantly in his shadow. Inside these walls, no man in his right mind would make an attempt on Moloch’s life.
Moloch made his way down General’s Road from the sparring yard to the blacksmith. As he approached, Prince Zuria walked out covered in sweat and black soot.
“How did your fight go?” Zuria ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out soot. He smelled of fire and iron.
“I won, and Bram lost two coins.”
Zuria laughed at that. “Where is Bram, anyway? I’d love to congratulate him.”
“At the dining hall. Eating shepherd’s pie.”