by Jason Tesar
As Maeryn listened to his retreating footsteps, she knew that it had worked. Not one word was mentioned of Adair. In fact, it seemed that Lemus had all but forgotten about him. If he acted as she expected he would, it would be days before he would revisit the subject. He won’t like the idea of having a child at first. But when he accepts the fact that it will happen regardless of how he feels, he’ll change his opinion. In a few days, he’ll come bursting into the room, talking about the legacy he will leave to his children, as if the whole thing was his idea in the first place. Maeryn had never been the type of person to manipulate others, but now it was a matter of survival. Her old life was gone, forever changed. This was her life now and it was horrible for the most part. But like Zula said, she would have to change the way she looked at the world, to find little things to make her happy. And, she had to admit despite her new position in life, she felt more powerful than she ever did before…and that made her happy.
Chapter 15
In the grandest library in all the Empire the smell of old parchment hung in the air, unable to clear out from the lack of ventilation. But that is exactly what one would want out of a suitable library. The old documents needed to be kept away from the elements, protected from sunlight and air. Saba sat alone at a stone table amid rows of shelving that reached to the thirty foot arched ceilings. The journey to Orud had been exhausting, taking months, but Saba was no stranger to travel. It seemed that most of his life, what he could manage to remember, had been spent moving from one place to another. His arrival in Bastul marked the longest stretch of stillness, but that had now passed. Though tiring, Saba had grown accustomed to the peacefulness of traveling through the land. So accustomed, in fact, that if he spent too much time indoors he began to grow restless.
Well, you’d better get used to being restless, old man! You’re going to be here for a while. He pulled a thick book off the top of the stack to his right and set it down in front of himself. It contained paintings of the numerous crests of the most important families in the Orudan Empire. Saba thought that it would be a good place to start looking for a match to the symbol on the arrowhead. As he leafed through the pages, his mind began to wander. There was something about that symbol that seemed familiar, but he had been unable to figure it out during his travels.
One painting made him pause in mid thought, but it was only a likeness of an eagle and he began to turn the pages again. He picked up the trail of his last thought and retraced the steps that brought him here. Unable to remember anything about the symbol, he decided instead to research the arrowhead itself. The construction was typical of what the Orud military used, so he had the idea of searching through the family crests for a lead. But so far, it had proven useless. He reached the end of the book and closed it, frustrated with the lack of progress. He had been here for two days already and without results.
I need to try a different approach. Saba rose to his feet and began to walk down the aisles of books, hoping that something would jump out at him. After a few minutes, he found himself lingering near a section that documented the various religions of the regions that the Empire had conquered. It wouldn’t be a religious symbol would it? He picked up one of the books and quickly turned a few pages, immediately seeing an improvement. Most of the content was text, but the few drawings were much more similar in style than what he had been looking at before. He set the book back on the shelf. Something older, more elaborate perhaps. He walked further down the aisle and slowly, the documents turned from books to scrolls. They were not labeled like the books, so he grabbed an armful and headed back to his table.
It was tedious work going through the scrolls, untying and unraveling them, only to find that they were also a dead end. After several hours of searching, Saba decided to go back to his room at a nearby Inn and get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow would bring better results. After placing all of the scrolls and books back in the places that he found them, Saba climbed the stairs leading up to the first level of the library. There was no light coming in from the windows and the custodian waved to him from behind his candle lit desk.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” he called out.
“First thing in the morning,” Saba replied, waving as he headed for the entrance.
The vestibule of the library was a long and wide corridor with columns lining the sides. Between each fifth column was a statue of the gods of Orud, their bodies partially clothed and posed in some dramatic gesture. At the end of the hall, two great wooden doors stood ajar, allowing the cool air to make its way inside. Saba stepped through the doorway and walked into the night air of Orud. Apparently he had been down in the basement longer than he thought, as he looked to the darkened sky. The view from this vantage point always took his breath away. The library was perched atop a small knoll within the academy district, surrounded by various temples and schools. From the terrace, Saba could see a great deal of the city and the flickering light from torches spread out for miles. The beauty of this city was unrivaled and Saba realized that one needn’t look far to see it. The flat stone streets curved throughout the city lined with alternating iron torch posts and planted trees. The vegetation within the city was maintained by an enormous force of gardeners enlisted by the Emperor himself.
Saba took a deep breath and descended the library steps to the street below. Crossing the road, he walked south for a few blocks before turning east along the street that would eventually lead him to the Inn. It had taken a few days to find a place to stay, but luckily, he still had plenty of money from his days of tutoring Kael.
Kael! As soon as the name came to him, his heart dropped. He was such a special boy. Inquisitive. It broke Saba’s heart to think of how his life had come to an end. He was yet another innocent casualty of this brutal life.
Suddenly, Saba’s senses became alert. Perhaps it was a noise or a smell. He couldn’t be sure but it felt like someone was following him. The sensation wasn’t foreign to him, as he had noticed it during his travels to Orud as well. The last few days before his arrival were spent with the occasional glance over his shoulder, but the feeling went away when he entered the city limits. Now it was back again and it was unsettling. He quickened his pace toward the Inn and kept his eyes moving, checking each alley as he neared it.
“Sir,” called a voice.
Saba stopped in his tracks and looked around.
“Sir, may I have a word with you?” came the voice again. It echoed slightly off the stone buildings on either side of the street.
Saba turned around and saw a dark-robed man walking briskly in his direction. If he was trying to be stealthy, he was not very good at it. “My good man, it’s late and an old man needs his rest,” he replied. Turning back around, Saba began to walk faster than before.
“Please Sir, I must speak with you,” the man pleaded.
Saba tried to ignore him, only glancing behind to make sure that he was showing no signs of aggression. To his surprise, the man had stopped walking. Good. If you mean me no harm, then whatever you have to say can wait for the light of day. When Saba looked ahead, he saw another man dressed like the first, standing under a torch post half a block away. “What do you want,” he called out, trying not to sound scared.
“We wish to speak with you about a very important matter,” the second man called back.
“It is late. Perhaps we can talk over breakfast.”
“No,” the man behind him said, from much closer than before. “We have been waiting for you for too many years. We are done waiting.”
Saba turned back around, looking to the nearest alley for an escape route, but the shadows in the alley began to move. He turned to run across the street, but all of the alleys around him began to empty with men, their cloaks billowing in the slight breeze. In a matter of seconds, he was surrounded by more than twenty strangers.
“What do you want to talk about?” he called out, turning in circles to keep an eye on the nearest man.
One of the figures stepped forward.
“We are looking for someone and we need your help.”
“Who are you looking for?” he asked the man. Suddenly, he heard a step behind him and whirled around to confront the man, but it was too late. Something brushed passed his shoulders and immediately cinched his arms to his side.
“We’re looking for you,” the man replied with a calm, methodical voice.
Saba looked down at the rope which now restricted his movement and felt panic. He tried to scream for help but one of the men stuffed a rag into his mouth, muffling the sound. Saba was helpless in that instant, and his only emotion was fear. Suddenly the vision of the streets of Orud disappeared as someone slipped a cloth over his head. Saba dropped to his knees, not knowing what was happening and powerless to do anything but comply.
Then the struggle stopped, just as suddenly as it had begun. Saba knelt on the ground, wondering why they were not dragging him off or beating him. He received only silence for an answer, which was no answer at all. Then, faintly, he heard the sharp clipping sound of hooves on stone. It was a horse. No, several horses. And they were moving in his direction. Saba waited a few seconds, listening intently, also making out a wagon, presumably pulled by the same horses. Saba struggled to his feet, yelling for help as loud as the rag in his mouth would let him. He took a few steps in the direction of the horses before he felt a sharp tug on the rope around his arms. He lost his balance and fell back to the street.
“Settle down old man,” an amused voice commanded. “That’s your transportation, not your rescue.”
The man’s words were confirmed when the wagon, pulled by a team of horses, stopped next to Saba. He was lifted to his feet and escorted to the rear of the wagon where he was, to his surprise, gently placed inside. As he lay on the floor of the wagon which jostled with the movement of the horses, Saba’s fear slowly gave way to reason and he tried to make some sense of the situation. Is this an arrest? These men were not soldiers, so that was not a likely answer. Whoever these people are, they have not harmed me other than scaring an old man half to death. They must want me alive! That, at least, was an encouraging thought as the horses took him away.
* * * *
Kael was awakened by a tapping sound at his door. At first he thought it was a dream, but it happened again. The night air was cold on his skin as he threw back the covers and went to the door. It made a creaking sound when he opened it, loud as a trumpet in the stillness of the night. Donagh and Narian were standing just outside of the door.
“Are you hungry?” Donagh whispered.
“Why?”
“Cause we’re all going down to the kitchen to get some food.”
Kael peered out into the hallway and saw several of the others standing in the shadows, waiting.
“Were not supposed to. We’ll get caught.”
Narian leaned closer. “That’s why we’ll have to be quiet.” Kael could see Narian’s teeth as he grinned.
“Alright,” Kael said. “Let me get dressed.”
“Hurry up,” said Donagh as Kael ran back to his bed and pulled a tunic from the clothes chest. When he rejoined them in the hallway, the group stopped at Berit’s door. He was the only one left. Donagh tapped at the door and it opened almost immediately.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked before anyone could explain.
Soren made his way to the door. “We’re goin’ down to the kitchen to sneak some food.”
“Whose idea was that?” Berit asked, suspiciously.
“Mine,” Soren answered. “Now get some clothes on; you’re coming with us.”
“Alright. Hold on.” Berit closed the door.
After several minutes Donagh knocked again. “What’s taking so long,” he whispered, as loud as he could.
The door opened and Berit came out into the hallway, fully clothed.
Horace laughed out loud. “Were not going on a journey, were just going to the kitchen.”
“Be quiet,” Soren said in a harsh whisper. “You’re going to get us caught. Let’s go.”
The boys followed Soren to the end of the hall where he signaled for them to stop. “I’ll go down and make sure that it’s safe.” He crept down the spiraled stairs, keeping close to the wall so they wouldn’t squeak. It was several minutes until he came back up, waving the group forward.
They went single file down the stairs, running quietly from shadow to shadow until they made their way through the dining hall and into the kitchen. “Everyone grab something and we’ll take it back to my room.” Soren was the oldest and no one had any problems following his lead, especially when he seemed to know what he was doing. They all looked around for anything edible; fruit, bread, anything that could easily be carried back upstairs. Kael was eyeing a cheese block when Horace came out of the ice room struggling to lift a piece of salted meat twice the size of his own head.
“Find something smaller and hurry up,” Donagh told him.
Arden tried to stifle his laughter as Horace slipped going back in. He was promptly silenced by Soren, but couldn’t keep from giggling under his breath. When Horace came back out empty handed, Arden started to laugh all over again.
“Let’s get out of here,” Soren said, and they all followed him back upstairs. Creeping down the hallway, they stopped at Soren’s bedroom. “In here,” he waved to the group. One after another, the group piled into his room until he locked the door and opened the window to let in some moonlight. Kael and Berit sat on Soren’s bed and Soren joined the others on the floor. Everyone placed what they had taken from the kitchen in the middle. Soren and Narian began to divide the spoils and deal out everyone’s portion.
“Soren. Where are you from?” asked Coen, stuffing a chunk of bread into his mouth.
“Nortuk,” he answered simply.
“Did you ever go on kitchen raids there?” Coen asked, his smile reflecting the chuckles around the room.
“Yeah, all the time. In fact, that’s the only way to get food where I come from.”
Coen was confused and the other boys were intrigued. “Didn’t your parents feed you?”
Soren glanced around the room at the curious faces. “No. My father died when I was a baby; I don’t even remember him. And my mother died a few years ago, so I had to learn to fend for myself.”
Coen was so shocked that he was speechless for a few seconds, which was a long time for him. “So, where did you live?”
“Well, everywhere I guess. I just wandered around the city, mostly looking for places to sleep and get food. It took a while, but I found this tavern in a rich part of the city. They used to throw away the food that their guests didn’t eat. They had these barrels in a back alley where they put the old food until there was enough for someone to take it away.”
As Soren spoke, all the boys listened with full attention. Kael thought that they had probably never heard of such a thing before. Or, at least, that’s how it looked. He, on the other hand, would often run across such boys in Bastul, when he and Ajani would sneak into the city. Some of them were very nice, but others were mean to everyone they met.
“I remember one time,” Soren continued, “I showed some of my friends to this place. They weren’t too careful. I told them to wait until nighttime when everyone was sleeping, but they were hungry and they didn’t want to wait. It was only barely past sundown when they ran over to the barrels and started tipping them over, looking for food.”
Some of the boys had looks of disgust on their faces. Soren stopped his story. “Have you forgotten already what it’s like to be truly hungry?”
Kael immediately thought of their time in jail, and cringed. He just wanted to forget.
When everyone went back to chewing on their food, Soren continued. “Anyway, the owner came out. I guess he must have heard my friends. I was waiting across the alley and I saw the whole thing. The owner saw the barrels tipped over and grabbed one of my friends. The rest of us started to run, and we didn’t even see, at first. Well, he started hitting on this kid.”
“What do you think I’m trying to tell you?”
Coen laughed. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“So we all turned around and went back. By the time we got there, the kid was beaten up pretty bad. The rest of us weren’t even sure what we could do about it. But we had to do something. When we gathered around the man, he must have panicked, because he took my friend and threw him against the wall. The kid hit his head pretty hard on the stone. The owner tried to run back inside, but I chased him and hit him in the back of the head with a stick that I was holding. He fell down, just inside the door like he was sleeping. The others helped me drag him out into the alley and we just started kicking him until our legs were too tired to kick anymore.”
“What happened to your friend?” Donagh asked.
“Oh. He didn’t make it.”
Everyone was silent, except for Coen. “He died?” Coen asked.
“Yeah. It was that last throw against the wall that did it.”
“What about the owner?” Coen asked with a look of disgust on his face.
“Oh, I’m not sure. But I hope he died too. We never went back there after that.”
Kael had a nauseous feeling in his stomach. After the horrible experience of their imprisonment, he was disgusted by the thought that someone might live like that their whole life. And the callous way that Soren spoke of the whole event gave him the shivers. “I hope it wasn’t like that all the time,” Kael said.
“No, not all the time, but I have a lot of those kinds of stories. The rest of the time we just wandered around, bored and hungry.”
“Well, I’m starting to get tired. I’m going to bed,” Arden said, standing up and stretching. His thoughts were echoed by most of the other boys who left the room as well. Kael stayed, as did Berit and Narian. Through the night, they traded stories of their homes and parents. Kael didn’t say much, but asked lots of questions. Their lives were fascinating, but Soren definitely had the hardest time.