by G. R. Lyons
Benash shook his head. Even after hundreds of years, the Tanasian population was still thin and weak. Too many people kept dying too frequently in too many ways. No matter how many marriages were assigned and children forced into being, the Elders never seemed satisfied.
And now I must at least pretend to satisfy them again, Benash thought bitterly.
Just as he left for work that morning, a citizen arrived at his quarters with directions to his new apartment. The man would oversee the movement of his family while he was at the prison, and Benash went off to work with his mouth fixed in a grim line, knowing that he would somehow have to find the drive to do his duty that night.
And ignore the certain lifelessness in his new wives' eyes.
* * *
IN THE midst of her morning routine, Vorena heard the usual shift change banter drop to a series of confused murmurs as the cavern filled with officers from both shifts. The night shift officers looked exhausted and threw themselves on the ground, leaning back against the crumbling pillars, while the arriving officers looked merely annoyed.
Vorena finished a stretch and straightened up, watching as Officer Benash strode into the room, carrying a pair of small books in one hand.
Her mouth practically watered at the sight.
“Alright, everyone shut up,” Officer Garl barked at the prisoners as he prowled about the room. “For those of you rats who don't know, today is Mourning Day, so we're going to have a reading from the Book of Creation, as decreed by the Elders.”
The man swiped one of the books from Benash's hand, earning himself a glare from that officer, though Garl didn't seem to notice. He opened the book, licked his thumb, turned a few pages, and cleared his throat.
“Wait, hang on!” one prisoner shouted. “Have the storyteller read it!”
“Silence!” the officer roared, though a chorus of voices rose up, seconding the suggestion.
Officer Garl threw down the book, balled his hands into fists, and charged toward the nearest prisoner.
Vorena watched as Officer Benash calmly scooped up the book, drew his gun, and aimed it at the back of the other officer's head. Garl lurched to a stop, spun around, and went pale.
“Sit down,” Benash murmured.
Garl glared at him, but complied.
Once the man was on the ground, and the other officers followed suit, Benash holstered his weapon and took a moment to consider the books in his hand. Vorena watched, curious, until he turned and headed straight for her cell, holding out one of the books for her.
THE WOMAN looked taken aback as Benash extended the book toward her. Keeping his face carefully blank, he marveled at the mixture of delight and worry in her eyes. Vorena slowly reached out and took the volume from him, cradling it gently in her hands, and Benash took a step back and sat down with his fellows.
He flipped through a few pages of the other volume and picked a passage at random.
“If you'll please read from page eight,” he began, and cut off when he looked up and saw a flicker of fear cross Vorena's eyes. She looked down at the book in her hands, hesitated, and slowly started turning the pages.
“No, don't do that!” someone shouted. “Read it from the beginning!”
“Yeah!” others joined in.
Benash looked around at his fellow officers, who all seemed to agree with the suggestion, and back at Vorena. The relief on her face was obvious, though he couldn't imagine the reason for it. He felt oddly relieved to see her usual cheeky smile back on her face, and she sat right down with the book in both hands and opened to the first page.
“In the time before Time, there was the One, whose name is legion,” she began reading, and an eager hush fell over the room as every ear drank in her words.
Benash followed along with his own copy, making sure she didn't change any of the words, and turned the page when he came to the end.
Vorena rapidly followed suit, turning the page in her own book without so much as a hesitation in her reading.
Benash got lost in the sound of her voice, looking up at Vorena from under his eyelashes every few sentences, eager to catch the sparkle in her eyes as she spoke. He caught himself letting his gaze linger and dropped his eyes back to the book in his hands, and realized she'd gotten ahead of him.
He turned the page and found his place, then noticed Vorena turned the page just after him.
That's odd, he thought, glancing up at her again, and saw her quickly drop her eyes to the book as she continued speaking without pause.
“Yet the Void was still otherwise void, and Skelroth knew the Others needed a creation of their own, so he reached once again into the fire and plucked out a single burning flame…”
Keeping his eyes on the page, Benash listened to her speak, and listened for the rustle of a turning page when she came to the end of the next one.
There was no such sound, but she kept right on speaking.
Two sentences later, Benash belatedly turned the page, and Vorena followed suit.
He looked up at her in amazement, and just caught the slight blush that crept over her face as she dropped her eyes to the book and continued speaking.
Though every man in that cavern had heard the Book recited countless times over the years, no one seemed inclined to move. Even the men who had worked the night shift looked alert and eager as Vorena's voice filled the cavern. Her voice was so mesmerizing that not a single man flinched at the mention of the three destructive blows that Father Zhagos had delivered to the land, separating it into Isles: the source of the Tanasian suspicion of threes.
Vorena finished reading the main passage, and a heavy silence filled the room. No one moved for a long while, until a few of the night officers rediscovered their exhaustion and got up with a series of groans and sighs. The officers shuffled away—the night shift to their homes and the day shift to their posts—and Benash waited until almost everyone was gone before he approached Vorena and held out his hand for the book.
She reluctantly handed it over and turned back toward her cot.
You can't read, can you?
Vorena froze mid-step. Benash watched her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, straightened up, and turned back to face him.
What's it to you, Hawk?
Nothing, he said, offering her a hint of a smile. I'm just amazed. All this time, I've been trying to figure out what on this gods-damned Isle you were doing with printed material, and just assumed that you could read it. He paused, seeing a flicker of shame cross her face. How in the gods' names did you ever memorize the Book?
Vorena snorted a laugh. Practice. There was no time for me to learn to read, but it's easy to tell stories while you're on the move–
She broke off, a hint of alarm in her eyes, as though she realized she was about to reveal too much. Benash pressed his lips together, fighting a smile. He'd been so eager to wrest answers from her, to pass information to the Elders about her involvement in the rebellion, and now that she had finally slipped, the information was the least of his desires.
Well, almost the least, he thought, remembering what he would be going home to that night.
Chapter 31
BENASH STEPPED out of the forest and watched men stroll down the city streets. Garis was bright that evening, affording him ample light as he sought out his new apartment.
Home was the last place he wanted to be just then, but there was a duty to be done. He found the new apartment just a few blocks from the forest, rather than a full mile away as his old quarters had been, and had to stop at the front door to take a deep breath before letting himself in.
Everything looked oddly familiar, with the few pieces of standard-issue furniture in the same places and the rooms, though larger, arranged the same way. He shut the front door, sent out a mental command, and waited while his wives entered the room.
Suned came in first while Oneri paused to set a dish on the table. A moment later, two other women joined them, and all four stood in a line, eyes cast
to the ground.
Benash gave Suned and Oneri quick glances before turning his eyes to the newcomers. As threes were unlucky, a man was never simply given a third wife, so any man with two would always be given two more, and then individual additions thereafter. In practice, of course, he couldn't bed and mark the two newest at the same time; thus, one would essentially become his third wife and wear that mark of shame and ill luck.
Looking over the taller of the newcomers, Benash figured it wouldn't matter much which he chose first. The one he observed had apparently been widowed—some other man's name carved into her skin—but was still clearly young enough to bear children.
She looked just as empty and lifeless as his first two wives.
Then Benash turned his eyes on the fourth woman there. Cocking his head to one side, he tried to get a better look at her face, since her form was oddly slight.
Look at me, he told her, keeping the thought strictly between them.
The woman openly trembled, but finally tilted her head up just enough that he could better see her face, though she kept her eyes averted.
By the gods, she's just a child!
Benash stared at her, not a woman at all but a girl in the first bloom of youth.
How old are you? he asked.
The girl shivered again, but answered, Fourteen.
Benash reached blindly for the nearest chair and sank into it. By the gods, fourteen! She's younger than my oldest son!
The poor thing looked terrified, standing there trembling beside the others. Somehow, the realities of a woman's life had not yet destroyed her, and in that moment, Benash knew exactly what he had to do.
You all may go for now, he told them, and the women silently filed away.
Though he lacked any proper appetite, Benash forced down his dinner, then went through his usual evening routine, all the while focusing on his breathing and trying to keep up his determination to get through his duty.
Benash stood by his door, closed his eyes, and thought of Vorena, letting his mind play over every exquisite dream he'd had of her. As soon as he was sufficiently aroused, he walked straight into his wives' room, grabbed the widow, and kept his mind on Vorena as he made this lifeless woman his third wife.
It required more effort than he thought possible. The reality of bedding this strange woman kept distracting him from the fantasy he tried to build up in his mind, reminding him that he wasn't anywhere near where he wanted to be.
Nor with the right woman. Not even close.
He sighed with relief when it was over, and took up a knife to calmly carve his name into the woman's flesh, right below that of his predecessor.
Then he turned on the girl.
Having been witness to the whole ordeal, the poor girl looked positively terrified. Clenching his jaw, Benash grabbed the girl by the wrist and dragged her into his own room, slamming the door shut and throwing the bolt.
She cowered away from him, trembling violently, and flinched as Benash let out a sigh and sank to the floor, leaning back against the locked door.
I'm not going to touch you, child, he assured her. Please, sit down.
The girl trembled so badly that she fell to her knees and curled in on herself, scooting back as far as she could in the small room.
What is your name?
She flinched again, and it was a long moment before she answered, Ashyn.
Ashyn, he repeated, and saw her hands tighten around her arms as she hugged herself. Ashyn, look at me. I swear to you, by all the gods I swear, I will not bed you.
Her alarm only increased at that, and she stammered out, Then…then you're going to…to kill me?
No, no, Ashyn, no, he soothed, shifting forward onto his knees and holding out his hands. Gods, no. I'm not going to kill you, and I'm not going to bed you. Seven save me, you're just a child. It isn't right. Benash waited, and when Ashyn still showed no signs of relaxing, he told her firmly, Ashyn, look at me.
She hesitated, but obeyed, and he waited while she winced and flinched as she forced herself to steadily hold his gaze.
Benash saw a spark of life in her eyes.
“I swear to you,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on hers, hoping that his open acknowledgment of her would help her trust him.
It took several minutes—awkward for both of them, as meeting another's eyes was such an unusual thing—but finally Ashyn seemed to relax in his presence. She loosened her hold on herself, and though she wouldn't move closer, she didn't look quite so afraid.
This will be our secret, he told her gently. Understand that I will have to mark you, or else the others will be suspicious, but never will I know your bed. Do you understand?
She hesitated, wincing slightly, but she nodded.
Benash rose and turned his back on her. Switch your wrap.
It seemed to take ages, as he stood there looking at the wall, but he heard the faint rustle of fabric as Ashyn moved behind him. When she finally stopped moving and told him she was finished, he turned around to find her wrap settled over the other shoulder, leaving her left exposed.
Benash slowly pulled out a knife, holding out his hands where she could see them, and approached. She cringed through the pain as he carved his name into her skin, and Benash shivered as she stifled a cry.
There, he said, backing away. It's done.
Ashyn swayed on her feet, and Benash reached out to catch her, easing her down to the floor. The torn flesh glared at him, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Benash leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out on a sigh. The worst of it was over. His new wives were marked, and there'd be no one to question why he never bedded them again.
That gave him an idea.
Ashyn?
Yes?
He glanced over at her with a smile on his face. Would you like to hear a story?
* * *
BENASH COLLAPSED into bed, yawning and grinning all at once. He'd spent the last hour telling Ashyn one of Vorena's stories, and though he knew his delivery couldn't hold a match to the original, the girl had been absolutely riveted.
I'm not sure I'm even telling it properly, he complained, but she just shook her head, wide-eyed, and urged him to continue.
So he did.
You must tell no one of this, he warned her. You do realize the ideas in these stories are treasonous.
Ashyn had nodded agreement, and asked, Where did you learn them?
Benash yawned again, smiling to himself as he turned onto his side and hugged his pillow, thinking again of the answer he'd given to Ashyn's question.
Someone special…
* * *
THE FOLLOWING night, as soon as Benash had gone through his nightly routine, he invited Ashyn into his room again and told her another of Vorena's stories. Night after night, this habit continued, and though Benash was always reluctant to leave the prison—and Vorena's presence—at least he now had something to look forward to when he arrived home.
And a perfect cover, he reminded himself, though that was becoming less a motivation as time passed. Having Ashyn at least in his room served well enough to make it seem as though he was making use of his wives, but his concern for that particular aspect paled in comparison to his eagerness to finally be able to talk about Vorena.
The more time he spent with Ashyn, the more he saw her come to life. For both Ashyn and himself, Vorena's stories provided the food that kept them eager to live and continue on, finally feeling a sense of hope and possibility, despite the dismal realities of their lives.
How are they treating you? Benash asked his young wife one night, nodding in the direction of the bedroom across the hall.
Very well, actually. I… She paused, her expression worried. I think they're grateful, being mostly left alone. They don't say much, but I get the sense that they pity me for being called in here each night, and seem to be glad it's me and not them.
Benash nodded absently, and felt agai
n the now-familiar pang of wanting to be wanted by a woman.
After a long silence, Ashyn asked, Would you have her, if you could?
Benash started at the question, but took a moment to consider before he answered, Even if we were free, even if I could get her out of there… He hesitated, and shook his head. I don't deserve her.
Silence hung between them for a long moment, until Ashyn startled him by taking his hand in both of her own.
I think you do.
* * *
BENASH HAD to fight a smile as he arrived at the prison early the next morning, eager to spend another day listening to Vorena's stories so that he'd have something new to share with Ashyn once he got home that evening.
As he entered the cell cavern, though, he knew instantly that something was wrong.
He slowly pulled the iron door shut as his eyes scanned the space. The prisoners were unusually quiet, their attention directed at Vorena's cell.
Holding his breath, he forced himself into steady motion, making his usual circuit of the room, but lurched to a stop once he saw her.
Vorena was sprawled on the ground, a smattering of blood on the dirt right next to her mouth.
Forgetting himself, Benash crouched down at the door of her cell and called to her, Vorena?
“Is she alright, Hawk?” someone asked.
Benash tore his eyes away and looked over his shoulder, seeing the concern on the prisoners' faces.
“What happened?” he asked the room in general.
“She had a bad coughing fit about an hour ago,” someone explained. “Woke us all up. She hasn't moved since and the night watch wouldn't check on her.”
Benash turned back and held onto the bars as he narrowed his eyes, trying to discern any movement. After what felt like an age, he saw the slight lift of Vorena's back as she took a shallow breath.
“She's alive,” he murmured, and heard a collective sigh of relief throughout the cavern.
Benash watched her for a few moments longer, and finally forced himself to his feet, casting furtive glances in the direction of her cell as he continued his circuit about the room.