He reminded himself that he had more important things to think about. He now had the final confirmation of what had been wrong with Hartnell, and incidentally several other inmates, all of them young, thinnish, beardless -- their physical similarity was a clue to how they got the stuff.
Kieran was not surprised to find that business going on here, just as it had in Tiyamo.
Kieran knew that he could insert himself into that group easily enough. Though his height and reputation made him less attractive to the type of guard who liked to relieve his boredom that way, he could use his pretty face -- and a few other tricks he knew -- to entice the suppliers to add him to their string of slaves. But it had been a long time. He'd believed he was done selling ass forever, and it wasn't fun to contemplate doing it again. And then there was the question of the tar itself. Could he touch it, possess it, and not use it? He would have to build up an enormous stash, if it was going to do him any good as a poison. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench with desire. It would make this place bearable, being opiated, it would make it easy, he wouldn't have a worry in his head until his day came to die -- which was, of course, the problem. Was he strong enough not to become what he would pretend to be?
He didn't know. He wasn't sure.
Well, there was time to think it through. A stash of poison was not an escape plan. There was work yet to do. That was comforting -- to line up his puzzles and chew through them like a sawmill through a tree. Made him feel like he was doing something more productive than lying in bed listening to his eyelids twitch.
Warren had said 'When the Director arrives.' Someone important was coming here. Security would no doubt be tighter during the visit. Would it be more relaxed afterwards?
Another thought: though he was exhausted, he was less drained than the first time he'd been tortured, almost as if he were building up a tolerance. Was that possible? Or was this a fluke, would he end up weak from it, get sick -- what if he had to rely on Ash for their escape? In fact, even if he himself were in prime condition, Ash would still surely have to do some climbing or running.
"Hey Ash." His voice was thin and dry, but his cellmate rushed to him as if he'd shouted.
"What do you need?"
"You're not going to like it."
"So? Just say it."
Poor idiot. Ash sounded ready to jump off a cliff for him. And after getting barked at and dismissed, too. Kieran wondered if he was one of those pathetic people who just got more loyal the more they were abused, and felt guilty. But it was still amusing to see Ash's bewilderment when Kieran said, "I need you to find out how many push-ups you can do."
Ash blinked at him a few times. Obviously not what he'd expected to hear. "What? You mean --"
He pantomimed.
"Yeah."
"Now?"
"Yeah, now."
"Why?"
Kieran grinned. "'Cause you can't dance, it's too wet to plow, and it's a little windy to be stacking chickens."
After a moment's shocked silence, Ash gave a startled laugh. "You what?"
"'Cause I said so."
"Oh, hell, fine," Ash said. He got down on the floor and did a few push-ups. "Sixteen," he grunted when his arms wouldn't lift him.
"Could be worse, I guess. Rest for a minute, then do five more."
"I'm never going to be as strong as you."
"And you'll never be as weak as you were before you met me. Bitching won't change my mind.
You know how stubborn I am."
"I know," Ash sighed, "but I also know I'm going to disappoint you."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Kieran was scornful. "You care way too much about stuff that doesn't matter."
"So you said before." Ash shook his arms out and got back down for another five.
--==*==--
When the bell rang for dinner, Kieran made himself stand, though his thigh muscles were twitching in the most irritating way. Ash told him he looked bad, gray, and his own smell nauseated him -- acrid fear-sweat dried and itching -- but he'd be damned if he was going to live like a victim. Anyway, he was starving. He ate everything on his tray, even the canned vegetables in a sauce that tasted like snot.
Outside, the sun's warmth revived him further. He was no longer shaking, just tired. The still, hot air tempted him to sprawl in the shade, as so many others were doing, but he had something yet to do, and he'd decided he wanted this part to be public.
"Hey Ash," he said. "Hit me."
"Sorry?"
"I want you to hit me."
"Hit you? You mean -- pow? Are we faking a fight?"
"Like that would be real convincing. No, I just want to see how you hit."
"Er. Where?"
"Stomach. Won't hurt me. Go ahead."
Ash hesitated; opened his mouth and shut it; shrugged. He fixed his eye on Kieran's midsection.
Winding up, he thumped his fist into Kieran's ribs. His knuckles stung a bit, bony as they were, but Kieran doubted it would even bruise. Ash shrugged again. "Bad, I know."
"Wrong in many ways," Kieran agreed. He saw out of the corner of his eye that people were looking at them. Good. "For one thing, you looked too hard at where you were going to hit. But it takes a while to get over that, so in a real fight aim for the face, since you're going to be looking there anyway. For now, let's deal with the fact that you hit like a kid."
"Of course I do," Ash said defensively. "I haven't been in a fight since I was about ten years old.
And I lost that one."
"Well, you're not a kid now. Put up your hand. Like this."
Ash did. Kieran gave it a little tap, just enough to set Ash shaking his wrist and wincing.
"Did you see that coming?"
"No. You're a lot faster than I'll ever be."
"Well, you could be faster than this at least." Kieran mimicked the wind-up and swing that Ash had performed. "You waste energy swinging around like that. Not to mention you tell everyone what you're up to. Just throw it straight out. Get your shoulder behind it. Straight out." Kieran demonstrated more slowly.
"Wait. Do it again." Ash's eyes traveled back and forth along Kieran's body as Kieran smacked his hand a couple more times. "Okay. Let me try."
Kieran spread his arms, leaving his torso wide open. Ash looked a bit worried, but shrugged and raised his fists, stepping forward. Then Kieran was knocked back a long step, grunting as the breath was knocked out of him. "God damn, boy," he huffed.
"Good?"
"Shoulda had you hit my hand. Yeah, good. You're a fast learner."
"Thanks." Ash glowed.
"Shove up your sleeve. Let me see your arm."
Ash flushed as Kieran probed his way from wrist to shoulder. Kieran was glad he himself was not prone to blushing; the skin of Ash's arm was too smooth, too soft, starred with tiny freckles and downed with fine coppery hairs, the muscles rounded and not large but definitely present. He let go quickly when he was done.
All he said was, "You're not as skinny as I thought. You're never going to be a bruiser, but it won't be hard to put some more muscle on you."
"That means more push-ups, I suppose."
"All sorts of shit like that. For now let's work on your form." He held up a hand -- then, realizing it was the one with the sprained fingers, hastily switched it for the other one. "Don't worry about hitting hard this time. Just make sure you hit where you're aiming, and concentrate on speed."
"Hey kid," a spectator called out. "What do I gotta do to get lessons too?"
"Fly up and get me a chunk of the moon," Kieran told him shortly.
"Now, that ain't fair," someone else said. "If you're gonna start a little school, oughta be open for everybody."
Kieran speared the speaker with a narrowed glare. "Ash Trine stood by me every second since I got here. Who the fuck are you?"
That engendered some muttering, but no more actual protest. Later in the yard hour, he heard someone sneer the words 'true love' in a mocking tone, but didn'
t feel like interrupting the lesson just to beat respect into some random asshole. Let them think Ash bit pillow for Kieran's protection. It'd make others less likely to try climbing into his shadow.
When they were returned to their cells, Ash was full of questions. Kieran, tired to stand anymore, flopped down on his cot and answered, "You need to be stronger. That's all. The way things are going, it's possible I'll be weak like this when we get our chance. I might need your help."
"Oh." Ash raked his sweaty hair from his forehead, then flexed his fingers, frowning. "Aren't we pushing it a little hard? My hands hurt."
"If you can still move 'em, you're fine. We can't be sure how much time there is. There's going to be climbing at least, and maybe fighting."
"All right." Ash smiled that sickly smile that said he didn't believe in any escape plan, was only doing this to be agreeable.
That was fine. Kieran didn't need him to believe, as long as he did the work. But he'd probably try harder if he had a reason he could understand. "Work yourself sick, Ash. I don't know how much longer I can protect you."
"You're not giving up, are you? I'm sorry, that sounds like I'm just using you to hide behind -- I'll do what you want, I'll learn to fight and everything. Just... Kieran, tell me you're not going to quit trying. Without you, even if I were as strong as you are, I'd still be in trouble."
"Course I'm not fucking quitting," Kieran snapped. "Can the damn melodrama and grab some floor, stringbean."
Ash flashed a relieved grin before getting down and forcing a few more push-ups.
Lights-out came too early, as always. Kieran had been dozing; the creak of Ash's cot springs woke him. He yawned, twisting his back, hearing his spine pop, then looked to find Ash staring at him again. He considered snapping at the kid for gawking, but figured he'd used up his bossy license for the day. He made idle conversation instead. "How's the book coming? Got the guard schedules down yet?"
"Pretty much. Tomorrow, when we can see, I'll show you what I've called them, so you can understand the lists."
"What I really want to know is which of them get their supper after us. I think it's going to have to be supper."
Ash's expression was hard to see, but his tone was skeptical. "You're still thinking about dosing their coffee."
"Like to know if it would be useful, at least."
"With what, Kieran? What are you going to do, pee in it? Get sick and spit in it? If we had access to anything poisonous..." There was a pause. "You've thought of something."
"Don't worry about it."
"Something dangerous."
"I said leave it alone." The conversation had stopped being idle, and he didn't want it anymore.
"Kieran --"
"You just get me that information, and leave the ugly shit to me, okay? You can't handle it." He rolled to face the wall.
"Kieran," Ash said softly.
Kieran ignored him.
"Kieran, please don't. I don't know what you're planning, but I can tell it scares you. I don't want to think about how bad something would have to be before it could scare you."
Exasperated, Kieran threw his blanket off and glared at his cellmate. "Exactly how the fuck does that matter? I'm not staying here. You help or you don't help, but don't you try to tell me what's too hard for me. If I'm still breathing when it's over --"
He was interrupted by a sharp crash that rattled the panes of the skylights, a flash that printed Ash's crumpled face on his retinas. His first thought was: dammit, crying again, you big baby.
Then he remembered something that seemed to fling the prison doors wide open.
"I dreamed this."
Ash was illuminated by another lightning flicker, dragging his hand across his face. "What?" His voice was muffled. "Storms?"
"This one. When Warren zapped me -- it'd take too long to explain. The point is I knew it would hit about now, about this hard, and last about a quarter hour."
"Fascinating," Ash said in a dull tone.
"Damn straight it is. This puts a whole new spin on everything."
"Then you don't have to do the thing that scares you?"
Kieran didn't answer. He watched the lightning through the bars. He pretended he couldn't hear Ash sniffling.
The storm was short and sharp, just as he'd predicted. He didn't think it was a coincidence.
Somehow, by dreaming in an unwarded room, he'd actually seen the weather rolling across the world.
There had to be a way to use that.
--==*==--
When the bell woke them, he was sore and stiff, but nowhere near as wrung out as he'd been after his last trip to Testing. That was interesting; he'd only been zapped once that time, whereas he'd got three jolts yesterday and here he was perfectly functional. Maybe you build up a tolerance, he thought. The way you do to poppy.
Which he had to think about. One thing he'd learned, living the life he'd lived: you have to know your limits. Determination by itself was useless. If you didn't have the abilities to back it up you were just going to get yourself in trouble. So he had to be dead certain he had the strength to possess a great fat wad of tar and not taste it. Not even handle it with his fingers, let it seep into his skin. Not argue himself into using just a little to ease the ache of abused muscles, settle a rebellious stomach, calm the dry sting of his dreams. He wasn't sure yet.
He would be sure soon. He had already decided that he could handle what he'd have to do to get it; soon he'd know he could handle having it. When he was sure it was necessary, when it fit together with his other plans.
"Show me the guard schedules," he ordered when they were locked in for the day. "Show me who's who."
Ash, drooping a bit from the morning's kengdan lesson, dragged out his book and opened it to a page of the usual gibberish. "If you want, I can write it plain for you. We'd have to rip out the page after --"
"Just tell me. I'll remember."
"All right. Here's what I have so far..."
But he had only gotten through naming the guards, and hadn't yet begun translating the schedule, when they were interrupted by purposeful footsteps on their tier. This happened every day but Sunday, and sometimes more than once, and usually the guards stopped before reaching them or passed them by. Nevertheless, Kieran's stomach tightened, and he saw that Ash's hands shook a little as he hid the book.
Two tan uniforms appeared. And stopped.
"Ashleigh Trine."
Ash froze like a rabbit. Kieran stood aside to let him get up, but he didn't move.
"Ashleigh Trine. Come on, kid."
In a whisper that cracked to a squeak, Ash said, "I can't."
One of the guards gave a long-suffering sigh and jangled his keys. "Trine, don't make me come in there."
Ash stood, but it was to back up, not to obey. He shook his head slowly, big-eyed. "I can't. I can't. Kieran!"
"Trevarde, why don't you come over here and put your hands through the bars." The guard beckoned his partner forward. "You cuff him. I'll get the kid."
Kieran knew he'd save himself trouble by complying, and he really wasn't in the mood for trouble this morning. But Ash had backed himself to the far wall, and was shivering like he'd shake himself to pieces. Kieran just knew Ash would scream when the guard touched him.
He didn't want to hear that sound.
"Be right there," he told the guard. Then he went to where Ash cowered. The redhead let Kieran take his wrists, even stilled his shaking some, but shrank back when Kieran leaned to speak into his ear. "Hold your head up. Sooner you go, sooner you come back."
"I can't." Ash was breathing in little gasps. Kieran was ashamed for him. "I can't. I can't. I --"
Kieran slapped him across the face.
"Hey!" a guard shouted, and keys clanked. "Dammit!"
The slap had driven a look of shock and hurt into Ash's eyes, but at least they were focusing.
Kieran wrapped a hand around the back of his thin white neck, feeling cold sweat beading there.
&n
bsp; Lips to Ash's ear, he whispered, "You're not here. You're not here. You're somewhere else. Don't come back until you can come back to me. Understand?"
He drew back to see Ash nod in numb bewilderment. Then Kieran's arm was twisted up behind his back and he was clouted across the side of the head; he had to use all his attention to keep from fighting. He could get out of this grip so easily, could take both these guards like a dog killing chickens, but it wasn't time yet.
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