Freedom's Apprentic

by Naomi Kritzer

  “You snuck off in the middle of the night last time, that’s what you did to deserve it. Now promise.”

  “I promise not to sneak off in the middle of the night,” I said.

  “Or during the day,” Tamar said doggedly. “Promise that you will not sneak off.”

  “I promise not to sneak off, day, night, or twilight,” I said.

  “Good, because I’ll come with you to Elpisia. It’s not going to take all that long to get the new blossoms up to the Alashi.”

  “New blossoms?”

  “Well, what else are you going to call them? I refuse to call them escaped slaves. They’re not any kind of slaves any more. They’re Alashi recruits. Blossoms.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call Prax a blossom to his face. But it’s up to you, I guess.”

  Within a day, though, I heard everyone using the term, with a delight that surprised me. I remembered hearing blossom mostly as an insult, mostly from Ruan, but the former mine slaves were apparently pleased to have a term for themselves that didn’t include the word slave. The spring flowers hadn’t faded in the summer heat quite yet, and some picked flowers as they walked, making wreaths to crown one another as we lay down in the grass each evening.

  I barely saw Prax for several days; I’d begun to think that he must be deliberately avoiding me. But on the fifth evening, he approached me with a wreath of his own in his hand. “Lauria,” he said in greeting, his tone a bit offhand.

  “Prax,” I said, and nodded. “I haven’t seen you much.”

  “No,” he said, and stood awkwardly for a moment. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said. “It’s impossible to have a private conversation with dozens of eavesdropping blossoms an arm’s reach away.”

  Well, if he tries to kill me, Tamar will make him sorry. I followed Prax out of the camp.

  “After you brought back Uljas, he said he was going to kill you,” Prax said when we were out of camp. “Did he try?”

  “No. Not exactly. He said he’s going to kill me if he ever sees me again. That’s what the Alashi are going to do, too, so . . .” I shrugged. “Hopefully it won’t come up. Did you ever swear you were going to kill me?”

  “Well, I gave it a try, don’t you remember?”

  “It healed without a scar. But yes.”

  “I was angry after you brought me back. But after the djinn spoke with me . . . I knew it was meant to be. Especially when I saw you again. Look at what we accomplished.”

  “Half the slaves died.”

  “But all of us would have died, in slavery, eventually.” He shook his head. “How the Greeks will rage over this!”

  “Even the Alashi would call this a successful raid,” I said. Aside from losing half our people.

  Prax nodded, his eyes glinting a little in the light. “Anyway. We’ve talked a bit about the Alashi, these last few days, and what’s waiting for us there. Tamar told us a little, and I knew a little more. We know we’re going to have to pass tests; they’ll split us up as much as they can. But once we’ve all been initiated, we want to form our own subclan. The Gulzhan, soul-of-a-flower clan.”

  “That’s lovely,” I said.

  “And whether the Alashi like it or not,” he said, “you’re a member.” And he set the wreath of flowers gently on my head. “The other Alashi can cast you out; they can threaten to kill you. But someday we will have our own camp, and our own elders. And you will always be welcome among us.”

  I was speechless; I tried to swallow my tears, and realized that if I said anything at all, I would break down completely. So I was silent. After a long moment, Prax gave me a nod, brushed one of the loose flowers back into place against my hair, then rose and walked back to the camp.

  The next day was the first really hot day—hot enough to make everyone miss the coolness of the deep mine, if not the mine itself. A whisper of haze burned off within minutes of sunrise, and my head ached by noon from heat and brightness. When I saw someone approaching, I thought at first it was a mirage, my sun-dazzled eyes creating a person out of windblown grass and shadows. Then I heard the exclamations of others, and I realized it was a person approaching on horseback. Then she grew closer, and I realized it was an Alashi woman, her sword tied into its sheath and her bow unstrung.

  And then I saw her face, and realized that it was someone I knew: Zhanna. My heart leapt, seeing her again.

  A hush fell over the group. Zhanna gave the blossoms a friendly smile; they returned looks of stark terror. With a shrug, she slowed her horse to a walk and came up to me and Tamar.

  “I’m just ahead of the rest of the Sisterhood,” she said, speaking very softly. “We know you’re coming, and with whom. The eldress would like to speak with Tamar. She’d probably like to speak with Lauria, too, but since you’re to be killed if we get our hands on you . . . Janiya sent me ahead to warn you. Tamar needs to stay here or we’ll have to ride after both of you. Lauria needs to go.”

  Surely I’ll have a moment . . .

  Zhanna met my eyes and shook her head regretfully. “You need to go now,” she said.

  I mounted Krina. Tamar gave me a look of chagrin. All these promises not to sneak off, and now . . .

  “I have enough water to get back, if I’m traveling alone, and quickly,” I said.

  “Elpisia,” she said. “Wait for me there.”

  And I left, my heart pounding.

  The ride back to Elpisia was quiet; I’d thought that Tamar might catch up with me, but she did not. I thought that she was probably being taken back to speak to the eldress of all the Alashi, probably to discuss our current project. I wished I could see it, because I didn’t think Tamar would be the least bit apologetic. I’d hoped that Tamar might visit me in dreams, but even when I went to sleep clutching my talisman of rag and hair, I couldn’t find her.

  Perhaps this was in part because I’d begun to have trouble sleeping. If Krina had been willing, I felt like I could have traveled all night as well as all day. The lingering fogginess in my head from the melancholia was completely gone. I felt perfectly alert, clearer than I had ever felt before.

  Reaching the dried-out riverbed near Elpisia felt oddly like coming home. I’d been back here so many times now, with Tamar; I holed up in the same spot we’d used last time, so that Tamar could find me easily. There was still a little water in the bottom of the riverbed, but it would be gone in another week. Still, Krina could drink, and I could drink, and we could wait for Tamar. I could go into Elpisia and free Thais, and we would take her up to the steppe, and . . .

  And then what?

  And then free the rivers, my mind whispered. Just as you decided. Someone has to do it, so why not you? Free the Syr Darya, free the Amu Darya, and with the rivers’ return the power of the Weavers will be ended. That’s what everyone says, and their belief will make it true. We’ll return to our ancestral lands, no longer scraping out a living on the steppe, we’ll overthrow the Sisterhood and the Younger Sisters and the servants and all of them. The rivers will make us free . . .

  Tamar was going to think this idea was completely crazy.

  Well, and she’ll probably be right.

  But freeing an entire mine of slaves, that was crazy, too, and we did it.

  Night fell, and the moon rose. I went down to drink more water; I felt as energetic as if I’d just risen, so I groomed Krina again. She was amenable to this, though she snuffled me gently as if to say, go to bed, silly human. I lay down on my blankets for a while, then got back up and sat outside, listening to the wind riffling through the grass. What if Tamar isn’t coming?

  Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she’s coming.

  What if the Alashi make her stay with them?

  I wanted to scoff at that idea. I could guess why they’d wanted to speak with her—probably to tell her to quit freeing people that they then had to deal with. And I could guess that she would tell them to get stuffed. But I wasn’t sure what they’d do then. Let her go with a shrug? That didn’t seem likely. Keep
her prisoner forever? That also didn’t seem likely. Kill her? We only kill bandits, rapists, spies, and traitors. “Troublesome former blossoms” wasn’t on the list. But if they were frustrated enough, would they try again to pretend that she had been in league with me? Over Janiya’s dead body. But what would they do with her, and how long would it take?

  By morning, I had decided that I couldn’t wait here. Someone might already have noticed Krina; someone could come at any time to investigate. I’ll cross the wall tonight and find Thais. Once we’re out, we’ll move somewhere farther away. I’m not sure we can safely cross the steppe without Tamar to find me water, but at least we can get clear of Elpisia. This isn’t a safe place for me.

  As I did every time I visited Elpisia, I thought about going to my mother. My thoughts traveled the well-worn paths of worry. I have nowhere to take her, no safety to offer her. Her best defense is innocence. I have to stay away. And if I visited her, we’d only fight anyway . . .

  Night fell. I headed to the wall; it was as easy to climb as I remembered. Over I went, through the streets, to the house of Zopyros.

  Thais had been a harem slave, like Alibek. Remarkably beautiful, she had apparently seen her chance one day and slipped out. I suspected that she’d had a confederate planning to bring her supplies. She’d holed up like Alibek, but with more water and an icy confidence that hadn’t entirely broken even when I pulled her out and took her back to Kyros. At my suggestion, he’d asked if she had a confederate; she denied it, and he decided not to pursue it. I’d been a little frustrated by that, at the time, but had moved on to my next assignment.

  Zopyros’s house was a narrow city house, several stories high. The upper windows stood open to the cool night air. I could see lights burning in several of them, and after an hour or two of patient watching, I actually glimpsed Thais in one of the upper windows. My breath quickened. The building across the way . . . if I could get up on that roof, maybe I could see in . . .

  It took some climbing, but I found a way up and crawled carefully across, trying not to make too much noise. I lay down at the edge of the roof.

  Oh, perfect view. I could see right in the open window. Thais was brushing her hair and talking with someone—I couldn’t tell if it was Zopyros, but she certainly had a more comfortable job than a mine slave. Then again, Kyros always had a soft spot for beautiful women.

  So close, and I’m so close to done.

  I waited for a time, wondering if I would have the opportunity to speak to Thais. My thoughts began to race again. Waiting patiently grew increasingly difficult, but I forced myself to lie still. Then a wave of dizziness washed over me. I closed my eyes for a moment and was jolted suddenly into a vision. Am I in the borderland? I wondered. And then, Am I dreaming? Is this a dream from the djinn?

  I saw the eastern mountains and heard a distant roar. Then, crashing down like the end of the world, I saw the water. The Syr Darya. The river returns. The wall of water was like a moving mountain itself. I’d heard stories of snowslides in the mountains in winter, and this made me think of the stories I’d heard, only larger. The river.

  And then I was back on the roof, and Thais was alone. This is my chance. “Thais,” I called softly, trying to shake off the vision and focus on the world around me. “Come to the window.”

  Could she hear me? But she came over, peering out into the darkness.

  “You ran away once. Would you still like to be free?”

  “Who asks?” she said.

  “Someone who can help you.”

  Her face was suspicious.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “Can you slip out? I may be able to help you climb down, if you need to. And I can help you reach the Alashi. If you would still like to go there.”

  “Wait for me on the street below,” she said, and drew back inside the window.

  I climbed down one wall, slithered down another, and dropped, finally, to the street. And waited, in the shadows, across the street.

  After a few minutes, the door opened, and Thais stepped out into the street. She looked straight at me. I stepped out of the shadows and looked back, expecting her to say, I remember you or what are you doing here? Instead, she said, “Come closer.”

  I stepped forward into the light spilling from the doorway. Thais reached out and traced the line of my jaw with one finger. Her hands were clean, and soft. She remembered me. I was quite certain of that.

  “Will you come with me?” I asked.

  Thais tilted her head and gave me a slow, triumphant smile. She took a deep breath. And then her hands locked on my wrists and she shouted, “Zopyros! Come here, there’s a bandit—Zopyros! Hurry!”

  I tried to tear away from her, but she clung to me like a burr. “Why are you doing this?” I hissed.

  “I’d rather see you dead than have anything else in the world,” Thais hissed back. Zopyros’s men were pouring out into the street, surrounding me, dragging me into the house. “She offered to take me to the bandits, if I’d run with her,” Thais said. “Bandit—thief!” She loosed me, finally, and fell back a step, smirking.

  “Do you know who she is?” It was Zopyros, shouldering his way to the front.

  “Her name is Lauria,” Thais said. “She used to serve Kyros. I don’t know who she serves now.”

  Zopyros looked me up and down. “Lauria,” he murmured, and nodded recognition. “Kyros will want to hear about this, I think.”

  “He’s up with the army . . .” someone said.

  “No, not anymore. He came back just yesterday.” Zopyros jerked his head at his servants. “Bring her, and let’s go.”

  Even late at night, there were lights burning within Kyros’s walls, and a slave opened the door promptly when Zopyros knocked. I recognized the doorkeeper, and I could tell by the way his eyes widened silently that he recognized me, too. His eyes flicked over me, Zopyros, the guards that flanked me, and my bound hands. Then he stepped back silently to allow us inside.

  Within the walls of the courtyard, it was tempting to imagine, just for a moment, that nothing had changed. I could smell the roses grown by Kyros’s wife in the garden, and hear the splash of the fountain, and a chorus of crickets. I couldn’t resist a glance up toward the room I’d once thought of as mine; it was dark and shuttered. Kyros’s office stood open to the cool night air, and I could see a lamp burning. The slave hurried inside to announce us. “Kyros would like to see you right away,” he said, stepping out.

  “I’ll bet,” Zopyros muttered. Leaving his burly guardsmen in the courtyard, he put a firm hand on my arm and steered me into Kyros’s office.

  Kyros looked older than I remembered, and smaller. His hair was thinner. Still, he summoned his old smile when he saw me pushed through the door. “Ah, Lauria,” he said, as if he’d been expecting me. “We have a great deal to talk about. Sit down, please.” He turned his attention briefly to Zopyros. “I greatly appreciate this. Come back tomorrow.”

  Zopyros bowed and accepted the dismissal. I sat down awkwardly, my hands still bound in front of me.

  “Well,” Kyros said. “This is not how I expected to see you again.”

  I said nothing. The first rule of gathering information was to let the other person talk. Unfortunately, Kyros knew the same rule, because he fell silent, and looked at me expectantly. Finally he said, “I think you’re supposed to give me your report. Aren’t you?”

  I decided to go with the story I’d worked out in my head all those months ago, and stick to it. I cleared my throat. “Alibek got away, from whoever you sold him to. He ran to the Alashi, over the summer, and joined them. In the fall, when my sword sisterhood rejoined the rest of the Alashi, he recognized me. I was cast out; I was lucky to escape with my life.”

  “Why didn’t you come back here?”

  “I thought there was still hope for my mission.” My voice sounded a little stronger to me. I can do this. I can convince him. “Because of Alibek, they knew that I worked for you, and that I took people back to s
lavery. So I decided to track those people down, break them out, and take them to the Alashi. I had this idea that they’d be singing my praises, and that the Alashi would take me back.”

  “Ah.” Kyros sipped some tea. “Do go on,” he said, when I didn’t.

  “Given the importance of my mission, the cost of a few slaves seemed . . . well, pretty insignificant.”

  “Quite.”

  “I had to take some time off during the winter, but I got them all out of slavery. Thais was the last.” Was going to be the last. Why didn’t she want freedom? Even Uljas chose freedom over vengeance.

  “Ah.” Kyros smiled faintly. “Perhaps I should have mentioned, back when you worked for me . . . You were correct when you suggested that Thais may have had someone helping her on the outside. It was Zopyros. He’d tried to buy Thais, I hadn’t wanted to sell, so he encouraged her to run. He was going to set her up in some other city, and visit occasionally.”

  “And now he owns her.”

  “Yes, I sold her all the way down to Casseia, to punish both of them, really. But he found her! Quite a determined man. And then you found her as well, but I’ve always known that you were determined.” He nodded, still with that faint smile. “I was a bit chagrined when I saw that she was back in Elpisia, but Zopyros is quite useful to me, so I’ll hold my peace for now.” He would hold a grudge, as well, I knew; Kyros could hold a grudge for decades, even if the object of the grudge never knew it. “Now, then.” Kyros riffled lightly through the papers on his desk. “I had a report of you, some months back—where was it? Yes. Solon. He said you’d made yourself rather useful.”

  “I did my best,” I said.

  “You were alone with him on multiple occasions—no companion keeping an eye on you. You could have taken the opportunity to send me a message.”

  “I didn’t know whose side Solon was on.”

  “You also saw Myron. Again, no message.”

  “I had reason to believe I was being watched.”

  “My aerika,” he said. “What did you do with my aerika?”

  I shook my head, giving him a bewildered stare. “I haven’t seen either of your aerika since I left the Alashi. That didn’t really surprise me, though—after all, you didn’t know where I was. I assumed you would want me to complete my mission, if there was still hope. I thought there was. I still think there is . . . eventually.”