by J. D. Sonne
It couldn’t hurt to ask Saruah the question. “Had you seen Landman around? I had no idea he was from this area.”
“Oh,” Saruah said, “none of us knew him! That is strange, but when I asked Sondrae about it, she just said that he was a keeper virul and as such, there was no need for him to leave the estate.”
“A keeper?” Rane couldn’t help but blurt. “Who has keepers nowadays?”
“Apparently Titled Larad and Lead Sondrae,” Saruah said, a cynical tinge in her voice. “I always knew they kept a few viruls under guard for insubordination, but to have so many to require a keeper, that is very rare, and as I said before, ‘strange.’”
In the early days after Kagallen’s rebellion against the males, the new female rulers incarcerated many of them, some to be punished, some to be trained to serve, and some simply because they didn’t know what else to do with them. The latter group was those who refused to accede to the new order of rule, but seemed to be valuable hostages that Kagallen and the others didn’t want to kill. “Keepers” were those viruls who proved themselves intelligent, loyal and brutal, and were assigned to guard these incorrigible inmates. They did not seem to mind inflicting violence on their fellow males, likely enjoying the relative freedom and favors from their new rulers. Keepers were indeed kept out of the main population of viruls, because of their value, of course, but the main reason was that they wouldn’t survive in the regular pool of virul slaves who thought of them as opportunistic scum. But Sondrae had performed the ritual on Landman. Why would she do that to a keeper, who would be regarded as a loyal servant? It didn’t make sense! And Landman didn’t seem to be of a brutal enough nature to be a keeper. What did it all mean?
One thing was sure, Rane had never cared for Sondrae, probably because she was one of Shukad’s close friends, but now she knew she had read her correctly as a brutal, sneaking female (she could not even call her a Lead at this point) capable of horrific violence. Titled Larad’s house was a house of secrecy and a house of violence, and Rane vowed to uncover its secrets and put an end to the violence.
As the two Leads walked home, Rane leaning heavily on Saruah, she wondered how on Maraquan she was going to gain access to Larad’s fortified estate, let alone break into an even more heavily fortified punishment cell to free her friends. Now, not only did she have the rescue to carry out, but she also needed to solve the mystery of Landman being Sondrae’s keeper virul. And, after listening to Saruah’s account about the planned punishment, she determined that to keep Landman and the other prisoners alive she would retire to her sickbed and not rise until she had a failsafe plan, a backup plan, and a backup for the backup. The slower her recovery, the more pours for a plan.
Chapter Twenty-two
Rane’s fatigue kept her in bed where she attempted to sleep and recuperate for another two days, but it was not much of a rest. Between Squirrel’s constant attempts to ply her with food and the nightmares that dove at her watch after watch, it was a wonder that she got any sleep at all. Nonsensical images twined through her spiked slumber: Sondrae performing the ritual on Saruah; Shukad and Sondrae drowning Rane in the waterwork back at camp; Titled Tollichet and Larad heading up the camp females, Shad, Winsla and even the dead Loward in a wilding against all the camp males. Hundreds of visions swam through her sleep, shifting, exploding and twisting her senses until she would periodically wake up, awash in sweat.
It was the morning of the second day when she fully awoke. She lay on her back for quite a few pours until she felt her mind clear itself of the horrible vision quest into which her dreams had plunged her. However, she was surprised that she felt rested and almost normal. Usually, before and during her captivity, she would spring out of bed ready to harness whatever tasks were hers for the day, so these last two weeks were an uncomfortably anomaly for her. This day, she didn’t spring, but was able to get up and dress herself—a little stiff, perhaps, but at least she was able to walk down to the kitchen.
It was a little late for breakfast, so Rane wandered into the kitchen to plunder the cupboards. This time the viruls were ready for her.
“No! Lead Rane,” Squirrel said quietly but firmly. “We will serve you!” He led her out to the breakfast table and placed a plate of cakes before her and said, “Start on these, and we will bring you more soon.” When she started to protest that she just wanted to grab something quickly and not be a bother, Squirrel said, “It is not a bother for us to do our jobs and serve you, and anyway, Titled Tollichet made it clear to us that we were to make sure that you didn’t have to lift a finger during your recovery.”
That made Rane stop. Recovery. Her recovery meant that the prisoners would be wilded and executed and soon. No one could know that she was feeling better. Immediately, she drooped her head so that it almost touched the table and said, “Oh, thank you, Squirrel. I am feeling a little weak. Maybe you could just make me some juice and fried crisps. Did you not just butcher the doe? Those would be good. After that, I think I’ll go back to bed.”
After he left, she sat up. She had to think. There was no way she was going back to bed—there was so much to do. As she ate some of the cakes, the fuel coursing through her hungry belly fed a couple of ideas into her mind almost immediately. There was a way she could make everyone think her recovery was slow even while she did what had to be done to release the prisoners—whatever the plan turned out to be. She could simply go about her business, but have periodical blackouts or bouts of weakness. That way she could get out and about, and just pretend to overdo, causing occasional relapses, their seriousness depending upon the progress of the impending wilding and execution plans.
As squirrel put more food in front of her, she almost didn’t notice as her mind busied itself with more ideas. But the one impediment that she could not work through was how to get access to Titled Larad’s jail where Landman and the others were being held. Trying to sneak around the heavily guarded compound of one of the foremost Titleds of Maraquan did not seem like it would yield very promising results. And what results was she thinking about? Talking to the prisoners? Breaking them out? A reconnoiter would be helpful, but then she was back to the original problem: how to gain access?
She had begun to consume food at almost the ratio at which her thoughts consumed her. She ravened at the delicious repasts squirrel kept placing before her: Succulent fruits, breakfast vegetables, puddings, doe crisps, the rustic bread that was her favorite. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t notice Shukad leaning against the door jamb that led to the great room of the lodge. Her sister had been so quiet in her observation that when she spoke, Rane almost choked.
“You are stuffing yourself like a fat scuprat,” her sister observed. “In fact, you look like a fat scuprat! Maybe you are with child from one of your viruls! That would explain your illness of the past two weeks.”
Rane, embarrassed, wondered how long her sister had been standing there watching her gluttonous display. She was still a little weak or would have charged Shukad intending to break her head at such an insult. As it was, she was about to give the rejoinder, “Well, at least no one would confuse my face with a scuprat’s arse!” but remembered that they had not conversed since the head-butt-into-the-wall incident. Rane was curious if her sister would mention or even remember the exchange, so stayed silent. Shukad, her face betraying no such memory, said nothing and just stared at Rane, her eyes small, suspicious dots. Suddenly, an idea presented itself to Rane’s mind, and it was such a great idea and would solve her biggest problem that Rane almost laughed. Instead, she turned a forlorn face to Shukad.
“Sister, I do not know what to do!”
This must have surprised Shukad—a weeping Rane turning to her for help? For pity? And, it showed on her face. The astonishment and confusion that appeared there was so comical and unexpected that Rane had to cover her laughter with sobs.
“Yes, Sister!” Rane wailed, “I need your help!”
More sobs brought Shukad to the table
and she actually sat down, a mixture of concern and skepticism embedded in her face. As Rane sobbed harder, she rejoiced again that Shukad had not brought up her visit to Rane’s room and her losing bout with the wall, knocking herself out. Could it really be that she didn’t remember? Maybe she was brain damaged. But hadn’t she always been brain damaged, so how would Rane know the difference? But Shukad’s continued silence about the incident was very good. That would make Rane’s newly conceived task even easier.
Allowing her sobs to diminish into a low whine, Rane said, “I want to make them pay! I want to make them pay! And, I don’t know how to do it! I’ve spent my foolish life working on the water and learning civic duties in school. I needed to be more like you—knowing how to give punishment, learning how to keep order, learning “security.”
She emphasized the last word and peeked up at Shukad to see if her words had any effect. The skepticism she had seen in her face the moment before needed to be totally conquered by the concern that had also been there. It seemed that the softer side of Shukad was winning the battle, for she reached her hand across the table, clutching Rane’s own.
“Sister! I have always tried to tell you that security is the place to be for a Lead, but you would never listen! Now, I fear it is too late!”
At this, Rane increased her weeping and put her hands over her face, opening her fingers for an occasional peek at Shukad’s face. She rejoiced at what she saw: extreme discomfort at the tearful display and a willingness to do almost anything to stop the spectacle.
“It’s OK, Rane! It’s OK! I’ll talk to Titled Larad! You have a good reputation for adaptation. I’m sure she’ll pull some strings—especially after all you’ve gone through!”
Rane almost forgot to keep crying, so surprised was she at this unexpected largesse. She ratcheted up the waterworks again and said amid the blubbers, “You’d do that for me? Oh, thank you, Shukad! I won’t forget this!” She almost jumped up from the table to hug her sister, but on second thought, realized that might be a little extreme, so she just gently patted the table in front of her sister and mouthed a tearful, “Thanks!” She was also relieved that Shukad still had not mentioned coming to her room.
The head injury must have really taken hold, unless her sister were playing her. Maybe she really did remember, but chose to keep the information to herself for later mischief. But, Rane doubted it. Her sister just didn’t have that kind of finesse in her thinking. It made her feel a little bad at her duplicity when she saw the uncharacteristic kindness on Shukad’s face. Surely she couldn’t be that gullible or even changeable—she had always hated, HATED Rane. Another exciting aspect of this new alliance with her sister was the possibility of Shukad’s revealing her graft. Perhaps she would take Rane into her confidence about how she had acquired the monies to make the improvements to the estate.
This mental exercise had taken its toll on Rane, and in keeping with her plan to act like an invalid for as long as possible, pled exhaustion and after thanking Shukad once more, retired to her room. There was no acting necessary for her to fall into a deep, deep sleep.
Chapter Twenty-three
Shukad for once was as good as her word. Rane soon was being invited to tag along with her sister and her securities—“Just to see if you like it”—her sister had said. It wasn’t long before Rane’s intelligence and good humor insinuated her quite seamlessly into the group. Even Guthla, once her absolute nemesis, was clapping Rane on the back at her clever observations and jokes.
One day, Rane made sure she stayed in bed all morning and complained of a headache when she finally arose. She had felt totally fine for about the past two weeks, but true to her plan, had stopped activity periodically to feign sudden weakness or nausea. It was annoying in the extreme, to say the least, but the importance of her slow recovery became evident when she finally made her way to Titled Larad’s estate. Shukad had left instructions with the house viruls for her to join her and the other securities there when she arrived so Rane could be in on a strategy session. They had found that Rane had good insights about dealing with viruls and they wanted her input on a recent problem of insubordination among them.
When she arrived at the estate, she pulled the bell at the iron gate, a security sentry allowing her access when her identity was confirmed. Two brawny viruls pulled at the two heavy gates, straining as they swung them inward. Watching her with dull eyes, they let her pass and pushed the gates closed behind her with a ringing clang.
When the flora of Maraquan was tamed and subdued, the grounds of the Larad Estate was the result. Every time Rane came here, the drapes of trees, porticos of immense shrubs and blankets of flower beds infused her with wonder and awe. The only other place where she had experienced a like sensation was in the crystal glen of the rebel community. She noted with satisfaction even with all its cultivated beauty, this estate was no match for the sylvan hush of the blue crystal escarpment or the pristine forests that encircled the camp. There were viruls all over the place, lending their bone, blood and sinew to the upkeep, some pruning, others mowing and digging—all enslaved for the purpose of aesthetics. She found it difficult to calm the bile that rose to her throat.
Often, thoughts like these assaulted her gut, worrying issues that included the treatment of the prisoners, when the punishment would be scheduled and of course, how she was going to stop it. These sweeps of concern flew through her mind constantly and hanging around with the securities didn’t make it any easier.
The Larad lodge came into view, and Rane was surprised to see the Titled of the estate walking toward her with her hands extended in greeting.
“They said you were coming! Oh, my dear! You are looking wonderful!” Titled Larad put her arm around Rane and looked into her face. “Yes, you are looking quite well. What is wrong?”
Rane staggered a little and allowed herself to droop into the Titled’s arms. She pulled her face down into a grimace and coughed. “Oh, I am sorry, Titled Larad! I am not feeling very well. Do you think I could sit down?”
“Of course, of course,” Titled Larad said, concern in her voice. “Please come over to one of the chairs on the front porch. You can rest there!”
They sat together on two of the elegantly carved lodgepole chairs, and Rane looked around and again was stunned by the opulence of vines that a cunning landscape virul had shaped in a flourish to enhance the arched design of the porch. She leaned back and closed her eyes, planning her next words carefully. But it turned out she didn’t have to, for Titled Larad was leaning toward her with an earnest expression. It felt very formal as if the Titled had called in the Lead for an interview.
“I am sorry that you still aren’t feeling well,” Titled Larad said. “You looked so hale only a moment ago.”
Rane knew exactly where this conversation was headed, but gamely said, “Oh, I am getting better—but it is so gradual that it feels quite maddening! Not only that, but I get these bouts.” Rane rubbed her forehead and then her temples. “The headaches are the worst.”
“Well, we are watching your recovery with great interest! We, I mean, the council would like to wait until you are feeling well enough to preside over your kidnappers’ punishment procedure!”
Titled Larad sat back in the chair, her face triumphant and proud, expecting the same from Rane.
Rane swallowed hard and shone forth with a beam on her face that she hardly felt. Although she had already heard this rumor from Saruah, she assumed a look of excited shock and with great reverence said, “Oh, Titled Larad! You do me great honor! To actually preside! To actually be a part of imparting justice to those monsters!” She grabbed Titled Larad’s hand and shook it with appreciation. Oh, thank you! “I am sure this will speed my recovery!”
Knowing the opposite was true, Rane did her best to keep the smile on her face from souring. Deciding to take advantage of this moment and understanding that an opportunity like this was better than water, Rane pressed a little. “Titled Larad, I understand the prison
ers are not at the central holding facility, but—(the direct approach probably was best)—are being held here?”
“Titled Larad smiled. “Oh, so people have been talking, have they?” She did not look irritated at the question but rather amused.
“Yes.” Rane hesitated, then went on, “It’s only that I am a little concerned with my safety and want to make sure that they are secure. In fact, that is one of the reasons that I have decided to join my sister and others in security—I guess they have told you that.”
“Yes, they did, and they are waiting for you now. In fact, they are in the conference room that is adjoined to the punishment cell. That is where they told me to send you when you arrived. And, that is where your prisoners are being held—behind stout walls!” She addressed the false concern that had stolen over Rane’s features. “You have nothing to fear. Perhaps you would like to see how we have secured them? You of all people are entitled to that!”
Rane actually sat back in her chair in relief. This had been so easy. But, she was not looking forward to seeing how Landman and the others had been “secured.” It probably would not be a pleasant picture, but it was necessary that she see what she would be dealing with in planning the escape.
“I think I know the way, Titled Larad!” Rane said, standing and making sure her posture was a little wobbly. “I’ll go see them now! Again, thank you so much—for everything!”