The Azureans

by R Gene Curtis

  “Stop and let me help,” she says. “Otherwise I’ll have to spend hours cleaning up! Why did you think it was a good idea to run today? Your skin’s ice cold.”

  I shrug, but I stop trying to get away and stare blankly across the room. Somrusee’s hands are warm. Her brow furrows as she carefully folds the robe as she rolls it up my body, keeping the mud in the cloth and off the floor. It’s cute, but I push the thought from my mind and keep my gaze on the window.

  She finishes taking off my clothes and I start toward the shower, but Somrusee grabs my arm and yanks me back into place. I shiver while she gets a wet cloth and wipes the mud off my arms and legs. I return my gaze to the window. She doesn’t finish quickly enough, and yet a part of me wishes she would take all day.

  Somrusee. Gentle. Always here. She greets me each morning and welcomes me home each night. We rarely engage in conversation—I live my mornings and evenings as if I were alone, though I’m not. Sometimes I think that I ignore her too much, that my cold shoulder is cruelty.

  But no human should be a slave, and I can’t escape my role. If she wasn’t a beautiful young woman, I’d spend more time talking to her, and she’d probably be less lonely. I wouldn’t be scared I’d turn into a monster if I listened to her tell me about her day. But she’s attractive, and I am affected by her.

  She continues to clean my body. The stone is cold beneath my feet. Her hands are warm. The rain is still coming down outside, and a breeze blows into the room. I smell terrible, but I also smell perfume and roses coming from Somrusee. I think she’ll be done soon.

  Somrusee steps back and nods her approval. I spin and hurry over to the shower, embarrassed and cold. The lukewarm water washes over me, and it feels good. Across the room, Somrusee cleans up the mud and the dirty robe. When she’s done, she sits on the edge of my bed with her legs crossed and watches me finish my shower.

  She’s never done that before. I turn my back to her and look at the copper etchings in the stone. Why is she watching me? I don’t have the same body I did when I got here—I look like I could be a magazine model now. My chest is defined with broad, strong muscles and my abs ripple all the way through. The only thing I’ve done the last seven months is take care of myself, and I’ve built a body worth admiring. Is that what she’s doing?

  Is that what I want her to be doing?

  I scrub mud out of my hair and keep my back to her. Somrusee can admire me all she wants. She isn’t my slave, and I don’t control what she does. I just wish I had someone else to share this day with. Someone I could talk to about my decision. Someone I could tell about my time with Wynn. I shut off the water and find a towel. Her eyes are still on me.

  “How was your morning?” she asks as I dry off. “Did you see what happened?”

  I look at Somrusee and then walk over to my wardrobe. This isn’t normal. Somrusee doesn’t make chit chat with me—she disappears into the background so I can forget about her.

  But she’s not in the background.

  I sigh. “It was an army of peasants. Wynn wiped them out with the flick of his hand.” I pause to listen, and I can hear them through the rain, still screaming.

  Somrusee says nothing more, but when I turn, her eyes are still on me. She lets her bare legs fall over the edge of the bed and motions for me to sit next to her. I don’t want to sit next to her.

  “I don’t know why you’re scared of me.”

  It isn’t her that I’m scared of. It’s me.

  I sit down.

  She leans into me, her body warm against my robes as she cups her hands around my ear. “I have a question I need to ask you.” Her hands are soft, and her breath tickles my skin as she speaks. “Is there something I did to make you hate me?”

  It’s my fault she thinks I hate her. I ignore her, treat her like she isn’t really here. But it isn’t her fault. How can I tell her that?

  “Why are you here?” It’s the first question I’ve asked her in months.

  “I’m here for you,” she whispers into my ear.

  “But there isn’t much for you to do,” I whisper back. “My room is always clean, the bed is always made, and I have very little laundry.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  My face heats up and I look away.

  She puts her hand gently on my face and moves it back so I’m looking at her. Her expression is soft, searching. It’s weird to be this close to her, to feel her body against mine. Tara used to look at me with eyes like this when she wanted me to kiss her. Somrusee’s look is different, though. She’s not playing. Her gaze is soft and trusting, more like Andrea’s. I fight the urge to kiss her and look away, frustrated by her effect on me.

  “What do you know about za’an, Karu?”

  I shrug. I wish we didn’t have to talk like this, whispering back and forth like teenage girls in the back of history class. But today, Wynn knew things about me he shouldn’t have known—it’s not worth taking the chance and speaking out loud.

  “I didn’t see any za’an when Wynn took me into his tower today, but they seem to be everywhere else in the castle,” I say.

  “Men,” she whispers.

  “Yes, only men. Except you.” My face gets hot again, and I look at my hands. She’s definitely not a man.

  When I look back at her, she’s blushing, too. She saw how I looked at her. I didn’t mean to look at her like that. I didn’t mean to want to kiss her.

  Warm hands cup around my ear again. “Each man of Wynn receives one za’an woman for each year of service to his kingdom. Did you know this?”

  I don’t have the vocabulary to venture into this conversation. I swallow and look at the window again. The air is cool as it blows through the room, heavy with rain. If it would stop, I would take my horse for a ride.

  I shake my head.

  “There are a few rules, do you know the rules?”

  I shake my head again, sure that I don’t want to know what they are.

  “First, each za’an is enslaved to Wynn.” She pulls away and points at the scar on her right cheek. Then she points at the scar on her opposite cheek and leans into my ear again. “But, she’s also enslaved to her master. There is a simple ceremony on the night a za’an is given to her master. You were there.”

  I will never forget it.

  “You remember that I was left covered in blood?”

  I nod.

  “A za’an is to wash from that ceremony only after her relationship with her new master is consummated.”

  My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Somrusee’s hand is over my mouth. Sometimes I forget Wynn is listening.

  Now it’s her turn to avoid my gaze. She pulls her hand away, and then stares at her hands, which start wringing in her lap. She washed herself that first day, even though I didn’t rape her. She did it because I asked.

  I reach down and take one of her hands to make the wringing stop. She’s right—there is so much about her and why she’s here that I don’t understand. Her eyes meet mine, and they’re beautiful. She’s beautiful. Behind her scars lives a real person, someone who wasn’t always za’an. Someone who is trying to be strong. Someone who is more alone than I am.

  “You know I will be killed soon?” she asks in my ear.

  Killed soon? Why?

  “You didn’t know.” Relief floods over her face. She cups her hands around my ear and whispers again, but there is so much emotion in her voice that I can barely pick out the words. “You are so awkward around me. I thought you wanted me dead. I know it’s not my place to ask.”

  A tear trickles down her cheek, but she’s smiling. “Thanks for not wanting me to die.” She stands to leave, to disappear again.

  But, somehow, the awkwardness of the situation has faded away and I don’t want to let her go. I keep hold of her hand and pull her gently back next to me. “Don’t go,” I whisper, “Please tell me what is going on.” Who would kill Somrusee? Why?

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Somrus
ee asks me again.

  I look at the floor.

  “To bear you children, Karu,” she says, which is almost what I was thinking. “A za’an is to give her man of Wynn a baby every two and a half years. Failure to conceive within the first year, or within the allotted time after the baby is born, results in her death.”

  Failure to conceive. Somrusee has not conceived, and she thought it was because I wanted her dead. I look at her, and she looks at me. And I feel like we understand something about each other that we didn’t know before.

  I shake my head. “How long do you have?”

  “One month,” she says.

  One month. The time Wynn will kill me.

  I drop her hand and pace around the bed, clenching my hands and grinding my teeth as a wave of fury washes over me. How dare Wynn sit in his chamber and listen to this conversation? How dare he kill this girl?

  “How many za’an does Wynn have?” I spit the words across the bed, not caring if Wynn hears them.

  “None,” Somrusee’s voice is soft, in contrast to my own. “While Wynn gives his men posterity, he knows that to have a child himself would result in competition. He has no children.”

  “Oh.” I stare blankly at the floor. How could a man not want posterity?

  “Karu,” Somrusee walks over to me and speaks gently in my ear again. “Remember what I told you? Each morning, we must decide whether we will serve Wynn another day or choose to die. I have made my decision. Don’t worry about me.”

  I stare at her, and I feel terrible. I don’t worry about her; I’ve never worried about her. I’ve been so determined not to think about her as an object that she’s become one. But something from this conversation just changed things. Behind the skin and the skimpy outfit and the slave markings is a girl, a real person with feelings and emotions and desires. A real person, a good person. Someone I need to protect, even though I cannot succeed.

  “These last few months were a blessing to me,” she whispers. “An extension of my life. I was about to jump out of the window before you arrived that day. My father was a ruler under the man in magenta. He opposed him, foolishly, and got himself and my entire family killed.”

  “How was he found out?”

  “Wynn hears everything. We always were told it, but we didn’t believe. My father told me something in confidence one night, something he only ever told me. The man in magenta spat those words in his face before he put a sword through his heart. I will never forget my father’s look as he died, Karu. He thought I betrayed him.”

  “I’m sorry.” I’ve seen enough similar scenes to conjure a perfect picture of what she’s talking about. “When I go out with Buen, he always kills the entire family. Why weren’t you killed?”

  “The man in magenta was up to receive a za’an. He timed everything just so. But you foiled his plan, Karu. You needed a za’an, and Wynn gave me to you instead of the man in magenta. I was sitting in this room, looking out the window at the moat when you and Buen knocked. You were so helpless, so confused. You saved me that day. That night you treated me with respect, and naively I thought you might come to love me and everything would be okay. I served you, helped you, and honored your requests to stay out of your way. But, I know now that I am a za’an and so nothing I do wins love.”

  She pulls back from my ear. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. She’s right. I’ve despised her because of her role. She holds her voice steady, talking out loud this time. “Don’t change, Karu. Not for me. Focus on your heart and your struggle.”

  She leans in and whispers, “I will join my family soon.”

  Her chilling words echo my decision this morning. Wynn’s touch was cold. Somrusee’s touch was warm, but when her hand pulls away, my skin feels colder than it was in Wynn’s chamber.

  12 Imposter

  Lydia

  “You’re sure the next cavern is at the gate?” Dynd asks. “Not nearby or somewhere else?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” I join him at the ledge. We’re probably about a half mile away from the gate, and from what I can see, there isn’t a way to get to it without being seen. Not only is there only one path leading to the village, but there are drop-offs off to both sides of the trail, many probably obscured by the snowpack.

  Four very long months have passed since Mara woke me up, but it will still be another month or two before the snows melt enough to allow for normal movement through the mountains. It may not have been wise for us to come already, but I couldn’t stand the monotony anymore.

  Ler and Turina sit behind Dynd and me, waiting for our assessment. Sharue insisted Turina, her servant girl, come with us. Apparently, she grew up here before moving to Keeper a couple years ago. Sharue said Turina’s trustworthy because she left the Northern Alliance before Arujan. I’m not so sure.

  “What do we do?” I ask. We’re assuming these people are aligned with Arujan, which means they’re dangerous.

  “We go back to Keeper and wait for the snow to melt,” Dynd says. “We won’t get to the gate with all this snow.”

  No way. “There’s a reason we spent the last three days hiking through deep snow up one of the most dangerous ravines in the Eastern Mountains.” Time. It’s what we don’t have. Arujan controls what’s left of the North, and if he’s going to start a war this spring, we will not get another chance.

  “We can’t go back, and we can’t stay here,” Dynd says. “It’s hopeless.”

  Ler laughs. “Don’t be so pessimistic, Dynd. There has to be something we can do.”

  I can’t think of any alternatives, but I don’t want to go back to Keeper. At least not until I’ve been to that gate. I wonder if Cylus and Togan knew there would be such a well-guarded city around this cavern. It was probably completely deserted when they built it originally.

  “Lydia and I should sneak into the city,” a small voice says. It’s Turina, speaking for the first time. “I was born here, remember? You men camp out here, and I’ll take Lydia. It will be easy. If anyone sees me, I’ll say I came home for a visit.”

  “There’s no way it will work,” Dynd says. “Everyone knows you work for Sharue. There aren’t many people who oppose Arujan, but Sharue is one of the most powerful people who do.”

  “It’ll work.” Turina shrugs. “Good luck coming up with a better plan.”

  Ler’s expression is unreadable. Dynd is scowling. He was with these people more recently than Turina, and they threw him out. But it’s trust Turina or go back to Keeper empty-handed.

  Turina sits quietly, her green eyes glittering in the dimming light as they watch us.

  I don’t have a better plan. We just don’t have time. I need to find out what is in this cavern. Ler trusts Sharue and Sharue trusts Turina. Does that mean that I should trust Turina?

  The sun drops below the mountain peak, taking away what little warmth it provided. If we’re not going with Turina’s plan, we need to retreat and set up camp for another long, cold night.

  “I’ll go with Turina,” I say, dreading the words even as they come out of my mouth. “We’ll sneak in after dark. She’ll show me through the village, I’ll go into the cavern, and she’ll return and wait with you. I might have to fight my way out, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  I just hope I don’t have to fight my way in.

  Ler nods.

  “I don’t like it,” Dynd says. “But I’ll wait here. If you holler, I’ll come and die with you.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” I smile and give him a hug. Dynd is a powerful man, and there was a time he didn’t believe in me. Now, I can’t imagine a better, more loyal friend. I trust his judgement, and I probably shouldn’t go against it. But, my sense of urgency is too much to ignore. We’re so close. I can practically touch the gate. I can’t turn back now.

  “Let’s go before it gets too dark,” Turina says, and she starts down the trail. “Stay right here,” she tells Dynd and Ler.

  “Wait,” I say. “I think we should
wait for a little more darkness, and we should find a different hiding place for Ler and Dynd. This lookout only has one way out. They need a place with an escape route. Just in case.”

  But Turina is already walking toward the village. “We have to get to the village before it gets too dark, or we won’t make it in.”

  She is already 100 yards way down the trail. The gate sits just beyond the village entrance—so close! It’s dark enough we can probably make it down the trail without being seen. Most of the people here have probably woken up from hibernation, but they will likely be asleep at this time of the night, with the sun already down and it being as cold as it is.

  Ler shrugs. “We’ll be fine,” he says cheerfully. “Turina will come back and we’ll wait for you here. We have a great view of the city.”

  “We’ll have a clear view of our executioner’s approach,” Dynd says.

  Not sure what else to do, I smile at my friends and jog after Turina. I wonder if Dynd meant to be funny.

  The night is clear, and the moon is already up. The hike would have been pleasant under different circumstances.

  Turina doesn’t slow as we approach the village. There’s only one entrance, and it’s guarded by a large man. I stop and try to grab Turina, but she shakes out of my grasp and keeps going. I don’t dare whisper—we’re too close to the man.

  Instead, I brace myself and feel inside a pocket in the skin coat I’m wearing. There is dust in there. I hope I don’t have to use it.

  Turina is still not slowing down.

  “What are you women doing outside the city after dark?” a deep voice asks.

  “Daddy?” Turina says.

  “Turina?”

  She throws her arms around the man. Unsure what to do, I hide in the shadows. This isn’t the sneaking through the village I expected. If this man is her father, does that mean Turina never expected to sneak through the village? Why did she lie?

  “I’ve come home to visit,” Turina says. Why didn’t she tell us her father would be out here?

  “You couldn’t have come home at a better time. I’ve been worried about you down there.”