The Azureans
Page 9
As I walk back to my apartment, a familiar-looking man passes me on the other side of the street. He has long blond hair and a small goatee. By the time I recognize him as Officer Bob, he’s gone.
Maybe it wasn’t him, or maybe he was on break. Still, I watch my back the rest of my trip back to my room.
I’m glad this semester is over. I’m going home. Mom and I will kick back and relax and eat fudge and cheese. In later summer, I’ll start running to get ready for soccer. Maybe they’ll find Lydia or that creep Karl while I’m there. Maybe Lydia will be here when I get back.
10 Interview
Karl
The large ship pulls into the spume surrounding the docks. I shift nervously on my horse, glancing around to ensure that my guard is ready.
They are. More than one hundred fifty armed men stand at attention around Buen and me.
Buen isn’t paying attention. He isn’t even watching the ship. His eyes are closed, and his face is turned toward the breeze coming off the ocean. I’m in charge today, for the first time, and apparently Buen is enjoying himself. The docks are a pretty part of Sattah. If only I wasn’t here as a man of Wynn.
This part of the job is marginally better than going on raids. We’ve been on at least two raids a week since that first one months ago. I read the scrolls from Wynn now, and I’ve learned how to work with Wynn’s vast network of spies to ensure we catch anyone who so much as breathes the wrong way. I’m almost fully trained, though I haven’t ever left my horse to kill people.
Which means I still don’t know if I would kill people for Wynn.
But killing rebels isn’t the entire job. The men of Wynn control every aspect of society—where people live, what jobs they do, and who they marry. As a man of Wynn, I’ve been assigned one of the eight provinces in the kingdom. I have armies at my disposal, as well as secret police and city rulers. Buen and I spend our days controlling the lives of millions of people we don’t know.
I force myself to think about the task at hand. I’m here to enforce another law: forced migration. Most of Wynn’s rule was characterized by stifling all migration between cities until just recently, according to Buen. Wynn had to change his policy because some cities were overcrowded and others didn’t have enough people. Of course, Wynn would never allow people to move freely, building networks and sharing ideas, so he set up a bureaucratic system. Each city is allotted a certain number of men and women, and the city rulers decide which people will be shipped out, and when to request people to be added.
The system seems to be working. Sattah has been able to maintain its high population density, even during times of high mortality. Leaders in the rural areas avoid contention by shipping troublemakers to the city. The highest rates of population growth are in rural areas, thus most migration comes into Sattah and the other large city in the kingdom, Yuquiri. Thousands of people are forced from their homes each year, moved to the cities, and then worked to death.
Today I’m to assign a batch of two hundred fifty incoming people to city crews. Local rulers usually do this, but men of Wynn are involved occasionally, though no one knows why. The transplants file out of the boat now. Old and young, men and women, miners and field hands. They’ve been forced from their homes and lives and shipped here. Within five years, half of them will die from starvation or disease.
Their life in Sattah starts today, with an assignment from me. It’s cruel, it’s heartless, and it’s my job. The only way I can get out of the assignment is through death. So, I stand here as the breeze comes off the ocean and makes its way through my robe. I hope everyone stays calm. Buen expects me to kill anyone who gets out of line. I breathe in the fresh air. I used to love the smell of the ocean.
A shove on my shoulder tells me it’s time. Buen lifts his eyes knowingly. I take a deep breath and prod my horse forward.
“Fellow servants of the Great Wynn,” I shout. “Welcome to Sattah.” I’m pleased to see that no one squints in concentration or cocks their head as I speak. I’m starting to get the hang of this language. They understand me.
I let the crowd stare as I walk my horse back and forth in front of them. The only sound is the scraping of the horseshoes against the wooden dock and the water lapping up against the shore. Buen said I need to appear unhurried and powerful. If the people see any sign of weakness on their initial impression, it’s likely the entire batch will be ruined.
“You have come to be part of the greatest work force in the Great Wynn’s kingdom,” I shout. “Your new roles are vital to the success and life of everyone.” I pause and turn my horse to go back down the line. The people know my words are propaganda. Do they think I believe what I’m telling them? Or, do we all stand here, actors in Wynn’s play, knowing everything is a masquerade?
“There are six options today. Six rulers are here, each with a quota to fill. You will have one hour to talk to each Ruler, at which point they will decide who joins their taskforce. For ten of you, you will be given a spot in the Great Wynn’s army. These individuals will live a life of luxury while they protect us. Thirty-five others will become fishermen on these docks. There are four inner-city crew options: garbage sweepers, road repair, building repair, and textiles.”
I urge my horse forward and look each man and woman in the eye one at a time. Not one of them returns my gaze. When I get to the end of the line, I nod and the rulers step forward to talk to interested people, who surround them quickly.
“Well done. You sound great, even with your strange accent.” Buen rides up next to me and gives me a knowing smile. I nearly tell him how much I hate this, but I remember the ring in my ear and keep my mouth shut.
We ride away from the group and then turn our horses to watch.
“See that ruler over there?” Buen points to a fat man who is over one of the textile crews. He has a kind smile on his face as he talks to a large group of arrivals.
“His bookkeeping is sloppy. I think people are getting away from him unnoticed. We’ll have to investigate—his sloppiness could be allowing some movement in the city.”
“How did you find this out?”
“I went through his book last night.”
The man is scribbling furiously in his notebook as he talks to the prospective workers, mostly women who want to make clothes instead of doing manual, outside labor. He does have a lazy air to him, and the way he ignores the poorer-looking people makes my blood boil.
Then I picture him being murdered in the street—a scene I know all too well—with his wife and children crying out in anguish as they die. What kind of monster have I become?
✽✽✽
After tossing and turning most of the night, I finally get out of bed and sit next to my window. It will still be an hour until daylight, but the stars are bright.
Soft feet pad across the floor and Somrusee sits next to me. She must be the lightest sleeper who ever lived.
Then I realize that I may not have woken on my own. A distant drumbeat and shouts are making their way through the quietness of the morning.
“What is that sound?” I ask.
“People coming to die.”
“Coming to die?”
Somrusee nods. “Daily, we must all decide which is worse: living in servitude to Wynn or death.”
“It sounds like an army.” It’s getting closer, too. There are only a few guards protecting the castle. I can’t imagine they have a chance against us, though. If it were easy, someone would have done it before.
“You should go watch.” Somrusee’s eyes are big as she hands me my sash. She’s sad—are some days hard for her to choose life over death?
I go quietly to the causeway between the residence tower and Wynn’s tower. From this point, I have a perfect view of the approaching army. They’re close now, and thousands of them pour out of the forest into the field in front of the castle. They’re all dressed in rags, Sattah’s working class. The men yell and beat their drums as they approach the castle by torch light.
My decision will be made then. I won’t serve Wynn when I’m dead.
A cold hand slides over the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine. Thin fingers close around my shoulder. “You don’t need to be worried, Karu,” Wynn says calmly. He surveys the approaching crowd of peasants. “Idiots,” he laughs. “Do they think they can overthrow a god?” He turns his gaze to me, his eyes dark and mocking. I say nothing. The image of my original captor screaming and writhing on the floor comes to mind.
Wynn takes a small flask of blue powder out of his robe. He pours a few grains into his hand and then throws them toward the army. It looks ridiculous, but within seconds people begin to fall. I watch in horror as the effect ripples its way through the crowd. The legs of the people bend awkwardly, and they start to fall.
Instead of drums now, I hear pops. The pops are breaking legs. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but Wynn is breaking the femurs of the attacking army. Courageous shouts turn to wails of pain.
Wynn’s gaze is fixed on the field, and his eyes glaze over. He might be vulnerable, but I don’t have a weapon. I didn’t even think of grabbing it. My one chance to try and kill Wynn, and I’m completely unprepared.
Within three minutes, not a single soul is standing. The attackers lay on the ground in moaning heaps. Wynn’s eyes unglaze and he smiles. “Fools,” he says again.
I stare at the field, listening to the screams. How can one man have so much power? It’s like a machine gun against Native Americans on horseback. With blue sand instead of the machine gun.
From what I can tell, no one is dead and Wynn is going to leave it that way. It will take them a few days to die, and then they will rot out there.
Disgusting.
“Come with me, Karu.” Wynn starts toward his tower.
Following Wynn is the last thing I want to do—Wynn hasn’t talked to me since that first night with Somrusee. What could he want? Is it time for me to die? Or worse, is Wynn putting me in charge of raids now? I have no other option; I follow him across the causeway and into his tower.
The entrance hall of Wynn’s tower is spectacular. It’s at least three stories tall and elegantly decorated with tapestries, paintings, and lots of copper statues. All the windows are stained glass. Ornate rugs line the floor.
This is what the inside of a castle is supposed to look like.
The hall is huge. There could be hundreds of people in here, and it wouldn’t feel crowded.
Wynn’s hand brushes against mine. “You like it,” he says. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? A palace fit for a god.” He leads the way up the stairs until we get to a large door.
He unlocks several locks, each with a different key, and we enter a small room. The room is completely plated in gold. A golden table, golden chairs. Walls plated with gold. The only thing that isn’t gold are a few red rubies that line the walls and chairs, glittering in the flickering light of a candle. There is no window. Wynn shuts the door and gestures for me to take a seat. The metal is cool through my robe. It feels good against my entire body, which is wet with nervous sweat.
I’m trapped in a small room with a tyrant. Wynn bolts the door closed. I put my head in my hands and try to take deep breaths.
“It’s nice you can talk now,” Wynn says coolly. “Buen has trained you well. You’re strong and fit to be one of my men, no longer the wimp who arrived here on the brink of death. As Buen has probably told you, you’re the man of Wynn over the mountain sector?”
I nod. Hopefully this chat will end soon. Despite my body being stronger than the wisp of the man I’m sitting next to, I’m the one who is terrified.
Wynn’s lips curl into a smile. He runs a hand through his greasy black hair and laughs. “You did well on the dock the other day.”
Wynn wasn’t there, I’m sure of it. Maybe Buen told him what happened. Or, maybe Somrusee is right and Wynn can hear everything people say.
“Yes, Karu, I was listening to you. I know all about you. I know that you tried to learn the name of your za’an. I know that you don’t like your meat undercooked. I listen to you.”
I shiver and force deep breaths as I run my sweaty palms over the large rubies on the arms of the golden chair. At one time, I wished for life. Even today, with my life as miserable as it is, I fear death. But how far is too far?
Wynn’s hand slides onto my knee, and I force myself to stop from recoiling at the touch of the cold hand. “You may wonder why you were selected to be a man of Wynn. And though you may not know why, you have proven yourself worthy.” Wynn sits back in his chair. His bare foot slides onto mine. I move my foot away, but Wynn’s foot follows. Can I not be free of the man’s slimy touch? Isn’t it enough to be trapped in this room, isolated in the gaze of those awful eyes?
“I have a great work for you to do. You have something I want very much: the key to the mountains. Yes, ironic isn’t it? You have something that I need.” Wynn pounds his fist on the table, and his expression turns deadly in the flickering lamp light. “You will let me in! In one month, the snow will be melted. We will go, and you will let me into the mountains. For this task, your name will be legendary. I will give you three more za’an. Posterity! Life! You will be able to spend the rest of your days at this castle in luxury, for we will kill all people in the mountains, and you will have no one to rule. All this for your great service.”
Wynn is blandishing me, and we both know it. The promises of luxury are just smoke. His eyes threaten to kill me if I disagree.
I say nothing. Wynn’s foot continues to slide over mine. I drop my gaze.
“You will no longer go on raids with Buen,” Wynn clasps his hands in front of him. “Your inexperience and frequent solecisms make you too fallible. I can’t have you getting killed out there.”
I stare at the golden floor, which shimmers in the candlelight. Feelings of rage and helplessness battle inside of me. I hate Wynn. I hate how he controls society, I hate his infallibility, I hate that he left five thousand men to die with a handful of dirt. I hate that I will never be free from him until I’m dead.
After several minutes, Wynn finally stands and unlocks the door. “Go find Buen,” he says. “I have important business to discuss with him.”
I try not to run as I descend the spiral staircase and enter the grand ballroom. I hurry out of the tower and run across the causeway, ignoring the moans of the people outside the castle walls. The sun is above the horizon now, which means Buen is probably in the dining hall.
As I walk through the main hall, I hear a commotion at the gates. A high-pitched nasal voice speaks from the doorway. The voice sounds strangely familiar, but I can’t place it. I nearly go to the gates to look, but I think better of it and hurry to the dining hall. Buen is there, eating breakfast. I tell him the message from Wynn, and he turns as white as a ghost.
“Take the day off,” Buen says before walking stiffly out of the dining hall. I watch him leave, his characteristic limp even worse than usual.
11 Insecure
Karl
After breakfast, I realize I don’t have any idea what to do with a day off. In the end, I go running. I’ve hated running my whole life, but I find solace in it today. Endorphins lift my spirits; the pounding of my feet calms my nerves.
But when I stop, the relief is over.
So, I start running again and run until I can run no longer. The overcast day turns rainy, and by the time I go inside, I’m a muddy mess.
I wander through the castle, eventually heading down to the castle library. Mud drips off my cloak and splatters on the stone floor, but I ignore it and stare at the books on the shelves. The titles don’t register as my mind replays the encounter with Wynn again and again.
The shelf ends, and I bump into a wall with a large map of the world. Wynn’s kingdom is surrounded by water on all sides except
for the eastern side, where the mountains run off the map. Smaller mountains take over the landscape to the west as well, eventually turning into ocean cliffs. Yuquiri is another large city that sits along the coastline in the North. Finally, Sattah sits along the coastline in the South.
The map is divided into eight outlined areas. My assigned area, the Eastern mountains, is outlined in yellow. The road from Sattah to the mountains goes through the area highlighted in magenta. It has been a long time since I was in those mountains. What happened to Lydia? Is she still there? What does she think happened to me? Did she go home?
I take a breath and sigh. I will never find out what happened to Lydia. Today I’ve made my decision, and that means I’m about to die. Wynn gave me an ultimatum, and I’m not going to help him. Lydia will have to find her way back to Earth without me, and I hope she does.
I’ve been here for seven months, breathing, living, learning. I can speak the language, and I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been in my life. Despite all that, I won’t help Wynn, and so it’ll all be wasted.
I run my fingers along the map to Sattah. The city is such a small part of the world, yet it’s everything to me right now. Sattah is the place where I live now. It’s the place I’ll die.
I leave the map and trudge up the stairs to my room.
The door creaks as I push it open and Somrusee is instantly at my side, her nimble hands grabbing my robe.
“I can do this,” I tell her. The more I’ve learned to talk, the less I’ve let Somrusee help. I do everything but shave myself now. Still, Somrusee never leaves my side, always offering herself. I try to ignore her, but thoughts about her follow me on my runs and find me when I care for the horses. Impressions and images creep in, reminding me of her, and what I’m supposed to use her for. The more I try to push her out of my thoughts, the more she’s there. I’m resigned to fight against the thoughts daily until someday soon when I’ll be gone.