She rocked slowly on her hammock and then shook her head; even after so long, she still thought it was funny that her bosses got the hammock wrong. It was made in the fashion of the Islanders, sure, but Araa was from the far north where it snowed by the houseful and Glacial Barbarians prowled the tundra. How did a hammock make sense? She didn't even have to try so hard. They accepted her story easily. Good, she thought. One less kill; one less dream. But she didn’t have to worry. No one ever suspected a thing.
Her first weeks here, she gathered the basic story pretty quickly. Prince Landrie Ladress wanted to build a trading town out here, mine out the Three Ridged Mountains, and find a path through the mountains to the other side to trade with the Demos. Ruby City aimed to become an enormous hub of prosperity.
Another rumor said Landrie was hedging his bet on friendly relations with the Demos by loosening up investments to his subjects and even land ownership, in case his brother, the emperor, lost his gracious disposition toward him and his other two brothers. It made sense. Half the people here in Ruby City were well-connected ‘investors’ hoping their hard work now would pay for some high station later. It made so much sense, in fact, that on many occasions Roe was tempted to just leave and report nothing here, but that was before she heard of Major Edgar Omen’s illness and his odd symptoms…and the deaths of forty three soldiers. Right about the time she arrived, two entire platoons along with the Major fell sick deep in the mines. Only three survived, plus the Major. All but the Major were transferred out of here. After that, no other incident. The only rumor she could gather was that they were ambushed by the Chills, but that’s impossible. The Ladress lands were known to be rich in warding stones, and Roe saw it for herself, always having to resist pocketing as much of them as possible. A person around here would have to work pretty hard to get themselves infected.
She sighed. “Really, Roe, only one lead in all this time,” she chided herself. It wasn’t as if gathering information was difficult; she found most people trusted ‘Araa’ with just about anything. But, she didn’t have access to the soldiers, officers, nobles, and the wealthy behind the financing, mining, planning, and surveying of the settlement. They liked to segregate themselves from people like her who toured in and out of the city every few years. Not to mention that a polite Islander showing up at their favorite local places like the Town Crier and asking about ‘secrets inside the mountain’ would be more than suspicious; even more so if she used her feminine assets to extract information from the men. She frowned. Maybe she should have chosen another persona. “Too late for that now. I’ll just have to patient until I get that road assignment.”
Almost eight months, the longest she’d ever been on a job. Easy jobs always required patience, and as soon as she found out what’s really going on here, she’d disappear. No one killed. No new dreams. And that was the best part: not having to end anyone this time. Flawless mission. "I can do that."
Two footsteps stopped outside her door. Then a whisper, "Araa, you...uh, mantra-ing." Roe rolled her eyes and slid to her knees onto the floor. She then closed her eyes and began humming softly at first, then louder so that Loyt could hear outside. "Oh, I suppose you are—"
"Come in," she said. Better get this over with. And Loyt walked in holding Roe's usual plate of fish and mushrooms. Not fresh, as her Islander persona would require. Oh no, Prince Landrie had to start his new city hundreds of miles from the shore. No, her fish were dried, salted, then boiled in water. And the mushrooms? Preserved in some kind of brine that made her stomach cramp an hour later. Already, she could feel his stomach beginning to turn at the salty smell. It’s healthy, just eat it. With her eyes closed, she instructed, "Please, Loyt, place my breakfast by me on the floor."
He did so, but like always, he lingered. Apparently, he loved the Islander culture, claiming to have spent time on the Islands. What was his job? Ah, trader. A trader of what, Roe didn’t want to ask for fear he’d never shut up. But she knew she had to be careful with this one. He knew a bit more than the average Ladress snob. If she didn’t engage him, he’d usually just leave, so Roe quietly continued meditating while he stood there like a voyeur—
"I didn't see you running today," he asked. No such luck, today.
"My legs need rest this morning," she said, keeping her eyes closed. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint and leave soon. "I'll run after I'm done with work today."
"Oh, OK," he said, but then stuttered. "S, s, s…so, I suppose you won't be at the cafeteria for dinner then?"
"No," she said, humming a little louder.
"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed. "Maybe tomorrow."
"Yea, tomorrow," she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Please, Loyt, I must compose my day's mantras."
"Oh! D, d, don't let me stop you then." He stumbled backwards outside before closing the door. That man was the hardest part of this contract and all in the last two months. Ever since he found out she was from the Islands, all he did was loiter around her, watch her and ask questions. If Ed's soldiers were as tough as he was, she’d have problem staying this long. At least, it kept things from becoming too boring.
She then looked sidelong at her plate of food, the fish and salt smell filling her one-room hut-like home. "If I don't eat it, everything in here is going to smell like that," she said to herself, picking up the plate. A whiff of salty brine assaulted her nose. “Maybe today will be the last day. That’d be nice."
She decided to start in on the mushrooms first —the worst part— and hoped that going over today's plan would keep her mind from reminding her how bad her breakfast tasted. Today was the first day of the new work cycle. She just ended a three-day stint doing Central Office duty: cleaning, repairing, and restocking. Now, she should put on road duty…again for another three days. ‘A welcomed change,’ she told her bosses. Islanders were supposedly very private people, and after too much social stimulation, they would withdraw. Road duty would be perfect for that; she’d ask and usually be given rural roads to satisfy her ‘need to be alone.’ Before, she’d be paired up with someone more experienced, but now on her sixth or so rotation on road duty, she had the experience to the travel the roads alone. And that’s what she had been waiting for to get this contract done, freedom to get close to the mines. So much time just for this.
The job was simple enough, checking the roads for problems. First, she'd have to go over the complaints brought into the Central Office in the paperwork she’d be given. Then, she had to do a general survey —she groaned, feeling her stomach begin that familiar nauseous cycle of cramping— looking for missing road segments, wash outs, holes, and anything that might trip up foot or hoof. That's the part she couldn't wait for. Finally, some closure to this damn boring contract. She already asked Yaner to give her the southwest side next time she got this duty. That was where the road to the mines ran, and she’d find out what’s inside.
Easy enough. She'd make good use that the prevailing prejudice of the locals around her. It wasn't really a prejudice, just an assumption. A true one. All the Islanders she ever met seemed to have perfect combination of innocence, eagerness and benevolence. They could waltz into the Imperial Throne Room with a sack of apple seeds and genuinely not know how they got there —and be forgiven for it.
She smiled. "Well, the mushrooms are gone." She grabbed the salted and boiled fish with her hands. Islanders don't use utensils. Savages. "Oh, a treat. No bones this time."
The gong outside sounded. "Time to get out of this crappy place." She stood, scarfing down the fish in one bite. It was kinda tasty— “No, there it is." She grabbed hold of her stomach as that familiar queasiness waved through her. "I've got to get out of here."
Ignoring her stomach, she walked out of her home and for the hundredth time snickered at the thatched roof that couldn't keep the warmth in at night if the entire thing was on fire. Other workers staggered out of the three bunkhouses that lined the edge of the camp’s wooden fence. She almost wished she could stay inside one o
f those with their hearths and food panties, her persona be damned. Given time, she’d get the best quarter in the building. She wouldn’t even have much trouble avoiding the other workers. Few of them seemed disciplined enough to stumble out fully clothed in the issued uniform, brown cotton shirt with brown overalls. Some yawned, messaging hung-over faces while others hurried to get their day started, eager to get that much closer to payout and end their tour.
The ‘bosses’ here weren’t any more disciplined either. The three bunkhouses plus her hut faced the yard, and in the center, a ring of red firebricks and ash marked the community hearth. The gong still vibrated in front of the hearth, and standing next to it, with hammer in hand, was one of her bosses, Lady Liana Roz, an middle-aged woman who tried very hard to look like a commoner. Tall, thin, and overbearing with pampered healthy skin and short red hair done up in style few of these workers’ wives could afford, she clapped her hands to hurry everyone along —as if that ever worked.
Roe pegged her as being related to some noble. Nowhere near any of the Ladresses, but definitely a land owner. Why her and others like her were coming here was what first peaked her contract’s interest. Investing so much in a trading city through a mountain range thought to be impassable? The Prince would need financiers, and just maybe they were here to make sure their investment was sound. But if it was just gold, iron, or coal Landrie was hiding, why would nobles bother coming here? A mountain full of runic on the other hand might need on sight confirmation. But Landrie already had a monopoly on the stuff, so why risk all this money in building a city in the middle of nowhere even before a route through the mountains was established? Roe wanted to rip out her hair out. This made no sense at all!
She took in deep calming breaths. Just find out, Roe, and go home.
In her Islander fashion, she walked her practiced walk toward her assigned position around the hearth, smiling pleasantly like an idiot to others walking along with her. Her gaunt was meant to be deliberate and efficient, something an Islander of the snowy north would know, but no one really noticed. Except for Loyt. She groaned inwardly, such wasted effort to memorize so much of a culture. No, not wasted, she admitted to herself, because this way, no one suspected her and she could go about her business without risking any lives.
"Oh hi, Araa," that gangling man, Loyt, said holding a bowl of delicious tomato soup. Roe stomach churned.
"My eyes are hawk eyes. They see all,” she fell into character with one of her mantras. “My eyes are hawk eyes. They see all." Loyt walked up beside her, but she repeated her mantra even louder, hoping he would keep his distance.
"Hmm, let me guess now," he said with another spoonful of …beef? They had beef today! "Eyes, huh? So, sights gotta be important to you today."
"My eyes are hawk eyes. They see all." She repeated again, louder still, trying to keep her eyes off his soup. Go away!
"Ah, you’re thinking you’re gonna get harvest duty? Yup, summer’s coming so—"
"Why the hell would you think I'm on harvest duty," she snapped. “We don’t even have farms!”
Loyt's stumbled back, spilling out some of his soup.
"I...I'm sorry, Loyt," she said, palming her face. "I…couldn’t sleep well last night so I ended up over sleeping this morning. That's what happened. I get irritable when I don't run." Your sounding too smart, Roe
“Oh, it’s fine," he said, breaking out a nervous laugh.
She half smiled, using the break in the conversation to hurry herself to her assigned position— Roe felt a hand reach for her. Instinctively, her shoulder pivoted forward to avoid it as she spun herself around in a quick blur. The assailing arm now to her right, she grabbed hold and jerked it and the attached body —Loyt— along her spinning momentum, causing him to tug forward off one of his legs. Coming around behind him, she kicked up her knee into back of his knee, the only supporting leg as he twirled to the ground. Her right hand went for her dagger. Missing? She blinked. Damn, what did I do? It happened so fast; it all had been so instinctual from years of combat training —combat training an Islander shouldn’t have.
Dazed, Loyt lay on the grassless ground in a cloud of dust, dirt all over his clothes and face, his soup splatted all around him, and the bowl wobbling beside his head. Eyes descended upon them from everywhere with whispers. "Were they fighting?" Another, "I thought Islanders couldn't fight." Damn it. She stuffed down her frustration and extended a hand to Loyt who appeared too shocked to understand what just happened. Come on, Loyt. Please don't make a scene. Not today.
"What in the Almighty's name is going on here," said Liana Roz's voice, a voice that seemed too comfortable ordering people around. She broke in from the crowd that had gathered around them. "Araa," she asked, surprise her voice. "You did this?"
"I, uh, well," Roe stammered, hoping the confused speech might give her some mercy. Please, no. Veiled Goddess! Eventide, please, not today.
"Yea, we saw it," one from the crowd chimed in. "Araa was amazing. Like a fighter, almost," another. "She took Loyt down cold," yet another.
Liana puckered her lips, placing her hands on her hips. "Rules are rules here, Miss Araa. We don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Jail for three days, but I'll make it house arrest for you."
"But the road duty," Roe protested. Don't be too demanding. Passive, be passive! "I'm sorry, Lady Roz.” Roe lowered her gaze to the ground, trying to look as submissive as she could. “The was an accident. And I was really looking forward to road duty. Can I be put under house arrest after my assignment?"
Liana laughed, a limp-wristed hand covering her mouth. "Oh, silly Islander, you can't choose how to take your punishment. What would be the point? No, no. You can have your solitude in your hut. The road duty can’t wait, so I’ll assign you to the gardens when you’ve done your punishment." No! That's another month and half before road duty again and I might not even get chosen! It'll be winter. I can't leave this hell in winter!
"It's fine," a small, coughing voice said from below. Loyt sat up, massaged his shoulder before climbing to his feet. Dusting himself off, he said, "I asked her to do it. We've been practicing." What is he doing?
Liana studied him with a raised eyebrow. "Than it wasn’t an accident?”
“No, I asked her to be rough, so she did.”
“I see…. Do you need to see a medic," she asked.
"Oh, no, no. See." He hit his chest a few times with his fist, but Roe saw a hint of a wince in his face. "No broken bones."
"Well, all the same I'd feel better if you went anyway. I won't dock your time, so go as soon as you get your new assignment."
"Yes ma’am. I will." He tried standing straight but Roe could see he was favoring his left ankle. A sprain? Idiot. His fault.
"Don't pout, Miss Araa. It isn't lady-like," Liana said. Araa caught a well-worn inflection in her voice, like a phrase repeated till it became instinct. A royal tutor maybe? That's interesting. Who here needs a tutor? One thing was certain, Liana was educated enough to have pupils under her.
"I'll let you go on road duty if you promise not to practice any of that fighting? Almighty knows others do that enough for all of us already." Yes!
She smiled with relief —a genuine emotion she didn't have to lie about— and nodded as submissively as she could. Liana turned away, back toward the hearth.
"Alright, everyone,” she began. “Get to your places, please. Let’s get your assignments out so you can be done all the sooner."
As the other workers walked away, Loyt whispered, "You’re welcome."
"Yes, thank you! I don’t know what came over me."
"I do," he leaned in closer to her. "You’re not who they think you are, are you? I know your secret, Araa the Islander.” She froze. How does he know? He was always around her, always interested in her. Maybe she fouled up, gave her secret away. She couldn’t think of how, but that didn’t matter now. “I've been watching you. No southern Islander cares that much about physical training. And that move you just
did on me. That was no accident. You trained for that." Her face flushed, eyes scanning for an exit. Fence. Gotta get out! Over the fence, there was a dense wood —good cover— then rocks, a river. East. Imperial territory.
Loyt had on him a sly smirk covered in dust and grim. She’d have to snap his neck quick enough for him not to scream, then run. Or maybe make him scream? Cause confusion. Before anyone realized what happened, she’d be way ahead. She rubbed her fingers together. Got to be quick. I suppose I’ll have to add one more nightmare—
"You’re actually from the north, aren't you?"
She blinked in succession, almost losing her balance. "What? North?"
"Oh, don’t try to deny it. I've been all over the Isles, met plenty of Islanders. It’s the way you walk. The way you’re always running and exercising. The way you just knocked me down. The way you avoid your hammock and sleep on the floor—"
"How do you know I sleep on the floor?"
He smirked, scratching the back of his head. “Your hammock should have been worn down by now. But, I can see why everyone confuses you with the southern islands, your darker skin and all. But the real question is: why didn’t you correct them? Think they’d accuse you of lying on the application?”
"I didn’t lie," she said with a snicker. "It's there. My island segment, my village. Everything. I just kept getting the wrong things delivered to me. Not my fault they can’t read around here."
He erupted into laughter and she couldn't help but smile too. It was pretty ridiculous. "Oh you people are way too easy-going. You could have just asked them, and they would have fixed everything."
"Oh, it’s nothing really to complain about," she said, laughing a bit herself. "You noticed all that about me, huh?"
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 18