The Azureans

by R Gene Curtis

  We have a host of problems to face in the morning. I don’t know where we are. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of the city. I don’t know how bad our injuries are or if Somrusee left a trail of blood. My mind spins and I’m awake a long time before I finally doze off.

  14 Impunity

  Karl

  A crunch. Footsteps. Someone’s close by. Somrusee’s body moves away from me, and I shiver in the cold morning air. Dim morning light comes through the windows and lights the house.

  Another crunch. More footsteps. I shake my head and sit up slowly. Somrusee crouches next to me, her eyes wide. Slowly, I stand until I can peek over the sill of the window we climbed in. I don’t see anyone, though I do notice the sharp metal shard I cut my hand on last night. My hand still aches something terrible. I crouch back down to my hands and knees, and then I crawl across the floor. Another room is adjacent to this one, and it has a window that looks out over the front yard. I strain my muscles to keep me low as I move stealthily across the room to the window. I move my head up slowly until I can see the front yard. As soon as my eyes clear the sill, I see a man, and I duck down below the sill, breathing fast now.

  Wynn, with his long black robe flowing in the morning breeze as he walks toward the house.

  “Wynn,” I mouth across the room to Somrusee, who has moved so she can see me from the back room. She closes her eyes. If Wynn walks in on us now, we will have even less of a chance against him than normal.

  It’s impossible! How could Wynn have followed us here already? I push myself flat, try to disappear into the floor as the sound of steps gets closer to the house. I hold my breath. I don’t move. A leaf crunches, a rock hits against the house.

  I fight the impulse to look out the window to see death coming—if I’m going to die, it will be sudden and quick.

  And then the footsteps start to move away from the house. I take short breaths, still holding the air in and not moving, not daring to believe. I can’t see Somrusee in the other room anymore. She moved out of the line of sight.

  When I can’t hear footsteps anymore, I risk a look over the sill again. Wynn’s back is to me now, and he’s stepping up to the tree we came through last night. I duck back down. I count to thirty, and then I slowly raise my head again. Wynn is gone.

  I let out a long, slow breath of relief and slump against the wall. Somrusee peers around the corner, and I give her two thumbs up. She gives me a confused look in return. “He’s gone,” I mouth, and I stand. Moments later, I feel the heat of her body as she joins me. Carefully, I put my arm around her waist, and she leans into me and sighs.

  I close my eyes and will my heart to slow. We’re still alive. Somehow, we survived again.

  The loss of the heat of Somrusee’s body leaves me shivering again as she pulls away and leaves the room. Each place she steps leaves a footprint in the dust on the floor. No one has been in this house for a long time. I can see the path I took to the window, and I follow it back to find the place where Somrusee and I spent the night, our bodies outlined in the dust.

  Both of these rooms are empty, but it sounds like Somrusee may have discovered something in a back room. I don’t join her. I can’t talk to her, anyway, and we have plenty of other problems to worry about.

  Time to think about other problems. The house is fairly secluded, but we’re still in the city. Now that it’s light, I can see the city wall—we’re probably only a hundred yards from being outside the city, but getting past that wall will be tough. Once we leave the house, we’ll stand out like a camel in New Hampshire. I’ll be wearing castle attire, and I don’t know what Somrusee will be wearing. Yeah, maybe like something even more obvious than a camel.

  Assuming we make it anywhere, we’ll need to find the gate, and we’ll probably find it heavily guarded. I’m sure it’s hard to pass through.

  And if we manage to get that far, we’ll have a hundred miles of highways we’ll need to travel. But the wall is the first priority.

  Somrusee comes back into the room holding a bundle of dusty clothes and a carving knife.

  Clothes. I didn’t even think there might be clothes in here.

  Somrusee puts them on the floor and hurries back into the other room. When she returns, she’s still holding the knife, but she also has a small wooden block.

  I’m so glad she’s here with me, even though I don’t have any idea what she wants me to do. Watching her step out of the room with clothes makes it seem like things actually might work out. Like she knows how to think through the situation here. Like her brain might not be quite as fuzzy as mine, or as affected by our current attire.

  She steps up to me, and her soft hand brushes my face. She tugs on my earring, and then I understand.

  She wants to cut it off. What good will that do? She still has the stud in her foot, and there’s no way we can get that out without crippling her.

  I shake my head. Confused and nervous. The knife doesn’t look like something I want cutting my ear.

  “Trust me,” she whispers in the ear she isn’t planning on ripping apart.

  Do I trust her? I’ve lived with her nearly a year, and although we haven’t said much, we’ve been through a lot together. She doesn’t step away, and I suddenly feel awkward as her determined eyes don’t waver. Mine do, and I feel the heat from her body next to mine.

  We slept next to each other last night, using our bodies for warmth. Yesterday we faced death together. Our relationship seems to have changed, and I don’t know what we are now.

  But, there’s no time to think about the relationship dynamics. Either I’m in charge and we have to go with my plan, which is nothing, or Somrusee is in charge and we have a chance to survive.

  I have to trust her. I choose to trust her. I lie on the floor. Somrusee puts the rag up to my mouth, and I let her stuff it in. It tastes like dirt and the dusty cloth against my wet tongue makes me gag. I close my eyes and think of visiting Arches with Pearl. That morning when I sat on the balcony and thought about Mom.

  Somrusee positions the block under my ear.

  Just when the sun came up, Pearl came out to join me. The morning wind blew through her hair as she stood in the doorway and asked me why I was crying.

  The knife slices through my earlobe.

  My scream is muffled through the cloth. Somrusee rips the ring out of my ear. She gets up and hurries away. I squint my eyes and clench my teeth and hold my hands over my mouth to stop my screams. Who knew an ear could cause so much pain?

  Somrusee is back, with a needle and thin thread. She sews my ear together. I don’t feel the stiches—my entire ear lobe throbs with one large pain signal that goes straight to my brain. I feel blood dripping down my face.

  She pulls the cloth from my mouth.

  “There,” she says. “Now we can talk.”

  I let out a long, slow moan. “What do you mean? You still have the stud in your foot,” I manage to say.

  “We’ll have to risk that. I’m pretty sure Wynn has to pick and choose who he listens to. The other za’an I’ve talked to say that they don’t think he listens to za’an. People have gotten away with saying all kinds of egregious things. I think Wynn’s much more concerned about the men of Wynn than their za’an. As long as we keep our voices low, it will be hard to hear from my ankle, anyway.”

  “We have to keep the earring and the ring, or Wynn will know that I lost them.” The pain is subsiding a little, but I still feel like I want to pass out. My ear really hurts.

  “Yeah. We’ll keep both with us, muffled from all sound, and we’ll pull one out and have you say something occasionally. No more than you would normally.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m a quiet person.”

  Somrusee stands to look at the clothes she found. “I wish I had some pain medicine for you,” she says. “I’m sorry about your ear.”

  “Hey,” I say. “Thanks.”

  She smiles, and I realize that I see something in her eyes I haven’t seen befor
e. She’s happy.

  “You found clothes?” Somehow, I manage to get on my feet.

  “I did.” She tosses me a worn shirt and pair of pants. These clothes are the most normal clothes I have seen in this world. I put the pants on. They’re too short and the waist is too big, but I’ll be able to make it work. The shirt is long and white, and it covers some of the problems with the pants. I look up as Somrusee finishes putting on a dress. It was made for a woman of similar height, but many pounds more than Somrusee. It hangs long, passing her ankles and dragging on the floor.

  “Great,” she says. “This dress will cover my ankles, and you look fine.” Seeing her clothed humanizes her for me, even if the clothes don’t fit perfectly.

  “The clothes are a bit too big.”

  She shrugs. “Most people don’t have time to find clothes that fit, and so they wear whatever they get their hands on. People here won’t notice or care, and we both look plain enough to fit into a crowd.”

  I’m going to trust her.

  “How are we going to get out of the city?”

  She smiles. “I have a plan.”

  I smile back. This is going to be good.

  ✽✽✽

  People walk by the alleyway in a steady stream, out the gate and out of Sattah. They walk with their eyes down, silent and subdued, united in their depression and subjection to authority.

  Somrusee was right. Their clothes are just as old, just as torn and dirty, and just as ill-fitting as our clothes. I watch Somrusee as she studies the crowd and the street. Her determined face narrows into a concentrated scowl. She doesn’t have the same lines that are evident in the other women’s faces, though her smooth skin is interrupted by the nasty scars that will be tough to hide. She sees what she was looking for and the scowl disappears, leaving a softer expression that I realize I find quite attractive.

  “We’ll fit in,” she says. She rubs dirt on her face. It falls off, not covering the scars at all as she reaches down for more. “We’re starting to run out of people, and I don’t know how else to get out of the city. Let’s go.”

  I put dirt on my face and then follow her out into the crowd where I fall into line beside an older man. I shift my eyes down and slump my shoulders. After weeks of training, my body is lean and built. I don’t fit in with these people, but I try. I just need to be invisible for one minute to pass the guards at the gate. I can hear them now. They watch the people pass, mocking some of them, laughing and joking.

  Wynn only allows men to stay in the guard ten years, and then they face mandatory retirement. Even then, post-guard life is luxury compared to the field workers that walk by them now. They watch us with disdain and superiority. Their eyes pass over me and I walk by them, invisible, a peasant unfit for recognition.

  But not Somrusee. “Hey, you there!” one of them calls the second I am out of the gates. Out of the corner of my eye I see him reach behind me and I turn to see him grab Somrusee and pull her out of line. I swear and move a few steps forward where I step out of line. Somrusee stares at the ground, hiding her scars as the guard checks her out.

  “Oh! You found yourself a pretty one,” the other guard says. “I don’t know how I missed her.”

  “You missed her,” the guard says, “because you were thinking about your breakfast again. This young woman looks way too young and healthy to be working out in the fields. We better check up on her.”

  They haven’t noticed me yet. I stand just steps away, frozen, my mind racing. They can’t take Somrusee—she is obviously za’an. Her cheeks are scarred, and a stud protrudes from her ankle. Who knows what the guard will do when he discovers what she is? I didn’t save her from death to die now. And without her, I’m as good as dead, anyway.

  She doesn’t struggle. She looks at the ground, quiet and submissive, not even looking in my direction.

  “I’m going to take her back to the barracks now,” the guard who is holding her says. He has blond hair and a goatee. “Today’s laborers are just about all out anyway, and we might as well figure out who she is as soon as we can.”

  The other guard, a shorter man with black hair, notices me. “Hey, before you go,” he says. “We got a recusant peasant here. He might know that girl.” He laughs and raises his eyebrows.

  The blond-haired guard doesn’t find this nearly as funny. Somrusee looks up in a panic, her eyes full of fear. “Go,” she mouths.

  I don’t go. I’m not leaving her behind.

  “Let her go,” I take a step forward. “Let my sister go.”

  The guard smirks and draws his sword, holding it casually in front of him, his grip firmly around Somrusee’s arm. “Your sister will be fine. She’ll have a nice, easy day. If she’s lucky, she won’t have to go back out to the fields for a while.”

  Yeah right. The guard has no idea who he’s messing with.

  “Go now,” says the black-haired guard, and he draws his sword as well and steps up next to me. “If you don’t leave, we will kill you. We can’t afford impunity, and we’re taking your sister. On second thought, we should probably take you, too.”

  The guard holds his sword sloppily. He doesn’t see me as a threat. The stream of people leaving the city has slowed to a trickle. In a matter of minutes, more soldiers will be arriving to close the gates. I don’t have much time. My training with Buen needs to pay off now.

  Make them think they’ve won.

  I resume a submissive pose, and turn as if I’m about to leave. The guard closest to me relaxes. I spin back around and punch him in the face. There is a loud smack as my fist hits his face, and my hand smarts as he stumbles backward and away from me.

  The other guard yells in surprise and thrusts his sword forward, but he’s slow because he’s still holding Somrusee with his other hand. I easily dodge the blow and grab the man’s sword hand. I push my backside into him and Somrusee gasps as the man stumbles, probably into her. I yank hard on the sword hilt with both hands, but the man has a strong grip. Unfortunately, I don’t have time for another yank because the guard’s companion is back on his feet, blood dripping from his nose. He holds his sword aloft and swings it at me. With both hands on the sword hilt of the blond-haired guard, I deflect the dark-haired guard’s advances.

  Neither guard has much training in combat. I’m much stronger than either of them, too. I yank the blond-haired guard around as I swing the sword at the black-haired guard. The clash of our swords and the grunts of the guards are the only sound now. All the peasants have fled the scene. Fortunately, there isn’t a sign of any other guards coming yet.

  No witnesses is good. Anyone in Sattah would know with one glance that I’m not a trained peasant. I need to end this and get out of here, but I’m not leaving Somrusee.

  The black-haired guard finally slips as I drive him back. I take advantage of his stumble and hit his sword hilt from the side, dislodging the weapon from his hand. He swears and bends to retrieve it, exposing his backside. Instead of killing him, I take the chance to finally rip the sword away from the blond-haired man. I keep the sword swinging and bring it down on his other hand, the one holding Somrusee. The bones crack as the sword meets the hand, and dark red blood runs out of the man’s wrist and down the sword. Somrusee, finally free, takes off running away from the city.

  The other man has unexposed his back, and now comes swinging his sword back at me again. He is so careless that he nearly takes off the head of his companion. I duck into a roll under his legs, and once free, I sprint after Somrusee. It isn’t hard to catch up with her—she can’t run very fast with the stud in her ankle. The guards don’t pursue us. They probably aren’t allowed to leave their post.

  I pick up Somrusee and keep running. She isn’t very heavy. She doesn’t say anything as I sprint after the field hands until the road gets close to a forested area.

  “Do you see anyone here?” I ask.

  “No. Let’s get off the road,” Somrusee says. Her voice is soft, as if her sprint caused her pain. It probably d
id, with that stud bumping against her tendon.

  I find a path and sprint through the forest for several minutes before I stop and set Somrusee gently on the ground next to a large tree. I put my hands on my knees and breathe deeply. Somrusee sinks to the ground and rubs her ankle. She has tears dripping down her cheeks. I swear and kick the dirt.

  Our escape from the city didn’t go cleanly. We managed to make it out of the city, but we’ve left a big clue for Wynn. If the guards talk, Buen won’t be able to keep Wynn at bay long enough for us to make progress toward the mountain. Wynn will tap in to Somrusee’s stud, figure out where we are, and track us down.

  “Do you know how to get to the mountains?” I ask Somrusee. Our only hope at this point is to make a beeline for the mountains and outrun Wynn.

  She nods. Her hands are shaking, and so are mine.

  “You nearly got yourself killed back there.”

  She tries to laugh, but it comes out as a sob. I sink down next to her and she falls into my arms. I hold her, my grip tightening as I remember how close I was to losing her.

  “Thank you,” she says, so softly I almost don’t hear it.

  15 Inside

  Lydia

  It’s cold. And dark.

  I wish I had something to cover myself—a blanket, a shirt, anything. I want to be clothed. I want to be free. Shivering naked in this cell reminds me of Cadah’s mutilated body.

  My body shivers. My stomach growls. I’m too cold to sleep. I’m too hungry to think. Seconds pass one at a time.

  When I was little, Mom used to brush my hair out after each bath. That was never easy—my hair was just as curly and unruly then as it is now—but it gave us time to talk. Our talks were usually about soccer: the latest match, the girls on the team, how difficult practice had been.

  One night, when I was nine, Dad was working late and Mom wanted to brush my hair. I had taken a long shower and was dancing around and goofing off. Practice had been in the rain that day, and I hadn’t played very hard. I was worried Mom would lecture me about it, and I was avoiding our chat.