by Jane Yolen
Senekka misunderstood. "We have plenty of time till Dark-After. Even walking. Two hours at least."
"Come on, girls," Dark said, still smiling, and signaling them with his hand.
He was at the end of the alley. Suddenly he stopped, leaned forward, and checked the street both ways. When he turned back, he had the gun in his hand and was pointing it at them.
Senekka looked startled. Then she laughed. "I get it. It's a joke."
Akki gasped. "No joke."
Senekka stared at her. "He said it wasn't loaded. In the debate." She spoke louder so Dark could hear. "You said it wasn't loaded."
Akki was suddenly ice-cold and the hatchling on her shoulder shivered as well, tail curling and uncurling around her arm.
No longer smiling, Dark glared at them. "Sorry, girls," he said. "I lied."
28
SENEKKA TURNED to Akki. "He couldn't possibly shoot us. We've done nothing to him."
"Tell her, Number Four," Dark said.
"Number Four?" Senekka asked.
"I don't know what he's talking about. He thinks I'm someone I'm not." Akki was no longer cold. She was ice. And the dragon was sending her huge icicles bearing down on her like daggers, no longer gray but glaring white. The sendings all but drowned out Senekka's voice. And Dark's.
If she wanted to make out what the others were saying, she'd have to build up a wall in her mind, stone by stone, as she and Jakkin had learned to do in the caves of the trogs. Only that way could she shut out the hatchling and concentrate on what was happening around her. So she bent her mind to the wall.
Stone.
By.
Stone.
By.
Stone.
When at last she'd shut out the dragonling's insistent sendings, she realized that she'd completely missed whatever it was that Dark had said next.
"She can't be that horrible person," Senekka was saying. "She's Golden's niece. His goddaughter. From a dragon nursery. Not a rebel. Not a murderer. Not a..." Her hands were wrangling together. "You have to let us go. We won't say a thing about the gun. We'll—"
Dark cut her off. "Oh, she's that person, all right. With the stink of worm still on her despite her pretty blue dress and new haircut. Trying to look younger than she is. And sillier. But what's bad for me is that she's alive, which I hadn't counted on. I didn't think anyone who knew me before Rokk Major blew up was still alive. Or on Austar IV." Backing down the alley, the gun still held on them, he signaled them to follow.
"We can jump him," Senekka whispered. "He can't shoot us both at the same time."
"He can if we stick together," Akki whispered back, still keeping up the wall in her head. "And if he's a good shot."
"Is he?"
"How should I know?"
"I knew you couldn't be that person he says you are."
"Never mind that person," Akki said. "We have to concentrate on Dark. I'll rush ahead and bump into him, send the dragon at his eyes, while you run back through the door and get help."
"Will it work?"
Akki had no idea. "It has to."
"Come on, come on, you two," Dark called.
"No, I'll do the bump ... if he shoots me, what does it matter?"
Akki shook her head. "It matters. And since it's me he seems to be focusing on, I've got to be the one."
Before Senekka could argue further, Akki took off at a run toward Dark, screaming, "I'm alive and so is Jakkin, you piece of worm drool!" As she ran, she grabbed the hatchling off her shoulder, tearing the dress at the seam. Then she threw Aurea toward Dark. But she'd forgotten the carefully built wall, and the hatchling was puzzled when it couldn't reach her mind, spending precious seconds trying to break down the wall for instructions. Then the hatchling circled Dark's head, wings beating, making a piteous squeaking sound.
"Danger! Danger! Dive at him. Dive!" Akki shouted, at the same time hurling a blood-red sending through a small chink in the stone wall. Behind her, she could hear Senekka hammering on the door, which must have locked shut automatically when they went out.
"Dive!" Akki screamed again at the hatchling. "Danger!" She flooded a blood-red river through the enlarging chink.
The hatchling dove.
With his left hand, Dark tried to bat at the dragon, keeping it from getting to his eyes. The other gripped the pistol. He sighted along it, and squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession.
Senekka screamed and the dragon—having gouged Dark's left temple badly—wheeled away.
Not knowing if they'd been hit, Akki continued her headlong rush toward Dark, hands like claws stretched toward his face. At the last minute, her right ankle twisted because of the heeled shoe and she fell headlong into his chest instead. He smashed the gun barrel down on the top of her head.
Blood rained into her eyes. Scalp wounds are the worst. She raised her hands to her face. Or else it's a sending. Then the pain began and she knew it was real.
The wall began to crumble entirely, and she fell onto Dark and into the dark.
***
AKKI WOKE to streams of cold running across her body. Black was all around her. At first she thought she was home in bed. Then she realized she was lying on some sort of mattress or pallet on a floor. The mattress was thin and lumpy. Turning over carefully, she spotted a ray of gray light through a chink.
In the wall? She quickly realized the wall in her head was down, though there were no frantic sendings coming through. The chink was not in her mind at all, but in a wooden shutter over some kind of window.
Window. Light. Cold. She tried to make sense of it.
Her head was sore. Not like a sore head after a night of drinking chikkar; that soreness usually began in the back of the throat and radiated into the temples. This soreness hurt from the outside in. She tried to put a hand to her head, and that's when she found that her hands were tied behind her.
She thought again: Window. Light. Cold. Dark-After.
As quickly, she said aloud, "Dark," though she wasn't sure what she meant by that.
But now she began to remember some of what had happened to her. Some—not all. She remembered the debate and the four men speaking. First the scared man and then the boring man and then the man who stood in front of the podium. That man! She remembered recognizing him. His name was Dark. She remembered the chikkar party and leaving early with Senekka and ... and after that—after that, everything was blank.
Had someone kidnapped her? Was Senekka taken, too? And what about the hatchling?
She called out for Senekka, but there was no answer. She called again, louder, her voice croaking. Still nothing. Then she tried a sending, in case the hatchling was around. She'd barely formed a gray bit of an arrow, when she had to stop. Her head simply hurt too much. She wondered if she'd been concussed.
"Fewmets!" she said aloud. Jakkin, where are you? I need you. But thinking about him hurt, too. In a different way.
She closed her eyes, then as quickly opened them again. If she had a concussion, the last thing she should do was to fall asleep again. But she was so tired. So very tired. Her head hurt. Her hands were numb. Her memory was gone. She was alone. And it was Dark-After.
She slept.
***
WHEN SHE WOKE this time, light was streaming through the chink in the shutter. Her head still hurt, her bound hands were numb, and that numbness seemed to have moved up to her elbows. She had to pee, and she wondered why she was here, why she was alive.
She tried again to remember what had happened. She recalled the debate and after ... a party. Yes, with chikkar. Had she drunk any? Was that what happened?
But chikkar couldn't explain her present situation. She looked down at her dress, a girl's blue party dress. For the first time, she saw the blood. All that blood. Her head hurting. Possible concussion. Scalp wound, she thought. Someone has hit me on the head.
And then she remembered—well, remember was not quite right. She had a flash of insight, of stumbling against someone in th
e dark. No—against one of the speakers at the debate. Against...
Then she had it. Or part of it. The man who called himself Dark, but she'd known as Number One. Also known as Swarts. A very dangerous man. Somehow she'd stumbled against him. He must have recognized her and grabbed her, brought her here, wherever here was. Brought her here alive but concussed. And tied.
But why?
Her head hurt from so much thinking, but she had to puzzle it out. She couldn't move her hands, but she could think.
But why? she asked herself again. And then she got it. Alive, she was a liability to him. Of course he could have just left her to die here—unburied, undiscovered, unmourned. Well, maybe not unmourned.
Please, not unmourned.
But that wasn't right. It would have been easier just to leave her in the alley. The alley! Now she remembered some more. Something about going out through the alley with Senekka. And the hatchling. And Dark.
And his gun!
Oh, God! He has a gun. That was important. But she didn't think she'd been shot. Not her. Maybe Senekka? Maybe the hatchling? It would explain why they weren't here.
But why am I?
She fell asleep again.
***
THE NEXT TIME she woke to dark, her mouth fuzzy, her mind muzzy.
Where am I? Why am I here?
Those same questions again. It took her nearly an hour to re-create her thinking of the time before. She worried that she'd lost some pieces, and she painstakingly went over and over the bits she could recall.
Surely, leaving me dead in the alley along with Senekka and the hatchling would have been safer for Dark than hauling me here. And he had to have hauled her. She certainly hadn't walked here by herself. Wherever here is! He couldn't have chanced carrying me over his shoulder in the street. So there must have been a car.
Which car?
The only one she knew of was the senate car.
And what about the driver? That nice man. Dikkon?
Her head, even awhirl with pain, was full of questions.
So why am I here?
She felt tired again, closed her eyes.
Why am I alive?
Trying to make it make sense hurt her head.
Why am I alive and here?
Though she tried to stay awake and follow the thread of that thought, she fell asleep.
Again.
***
THIS TIME when she woke, her head seemed clearer. Her arms were no longer bound behind her, but in front, tied at the wrist. Though she was still lying on the mattress, there was enough light to see that the mattress was thin. And gray. And filthy. She worried about the borrowed dress. The blood-soaked borrowed dress. The torn-at-the-shoulder blood-soaked borrowed dress. It would never recover and what would Henkky say about that? Then she scolded herself. Henkky wouldn't mind as long as she was returned safe.
The shutters on the window were now wide open. Akki sat up and turned her head. The world seemed to spin around. But the thought of lying down again was worse than the pain of being upright.
"Awake at last."
The first sound of the voice gave her hope. But even before she looked around and saw him, she recognized that voice. Dark was perched on a straight-backed chair. His voice was a low rumble. He had a black eye and a long wound—still aflame—that went from his scalp to below the blackened eye.
Did I do that? Akki wondered. And then she had another small flash of memory, of the hatchling flying at Dark's face, talons out. "Thou fine fighter," she sent, even though the dragonling was nowhere around and sending made her head hurt.
Akki felt as if she'd been sick for days. Her mouth was foul. Her stomach was growling. She'd obviously wet herself while she slept. Oddly enough, those things didn't make her feel ashamed, just relieved.
Relieved! She laughed out loud at the pun.
Dark leaned forward. "What are you laughing at?" He sounded both puzzled and furious.
I can use that. He thinks I'm not frightened, that I'm laughing at him, and clearly he doesn't like it. She kept on laughing, tried to make it sound unforced. Hysteria lent a hand.
He stood up and walked toward her.
It's like training a dragon. She was careful not to show her fear. This is the point where it's decided which one of us is to be master.
He glared down at her, his mouth open, like a wound. "Where's your boyfriend, then?"
That was a question she wasn't expecting. How could he possibly have known about Jakkin? Suddenly she flashed on what she'd said as she'd run toward Dark. I'm alive and so is Jakkin. Had that been a fatal mistake? Or had it actually saved her life? She stopped laughing, considered it quickly. Clearly Dark thought she had information.
Information! It was a bargaining chip. The only one she had. Though she'd never gambled at the pits, she would have to gamble on this. She laughed again. Some bargaining chip. She'd no idea where Jakkin was.
She held up her bound hands. "Untie me and I'll tell you what I know. And get me a needle and thread and a wet cloth and I'll sew up your face. You wouldn't want it to become infected." Of course if she gave him any real information, he'd kill her. Actually, he was probably going to kill her, anyway, after he got the information he wanted. She was surprised at how calm she was. Must have been all that time in the mountains with the trogs. She'd faced death before. And anyway, she'd take later rather than now.
Later gives me a chance to escape.
It was the only chance she had.
"You can rot here awhile longer till you're ready to speak," Dark said. "And if you think I'll let you loose with a needle near my eyes, you're clearly still reeling from that head wound." He turned his back on her and walked out a door that was on the wall opposite the window. But in his eagerness to show her who was boss, he forgot to lock the shutters. He forgot to retie her hands behind her.
I can use that, she thought again.
***
ONCE DARK'S FOOTSTEPS faded away down the unseen hall, she stood, kicked off the heeled sandals, and began to walk barefoot around the room, getting her legs going, moving away from the filthy, wet mattress. She lifted her arms over her head a dozen times, as they were all pins and needles, which helped a bit, though they began to burn as feeling returned.
Is there anything I can find to help me? She wasn't actually sure what she needed. A knife, a hammer, a piece of long rope? Clearly the rope around her wrist was too short, even if she could get it off.
She saw now that she was in a large attic room, about seven meters wide and ten meters long. The roof slanted down at the window end, the window being built into a dormer that was too high for her to look out of without standing on her tiptoes. I should have kept the shoes on.
Outside, the sun was now so bright, Akki had to blink a few times before she could actually see anything. When she could finally make out some buildings, she realized that she didn't recognize them. But clearly, she was on the outskirts of a city. There was some strange kind of arch to the buildings—odd-looking. They weren't at all like the houses in the center of The Rokk, which leaned toward one another. These all seemed to be leaning away. They were large buildings with few windows. Off to the left she could just make out part of a field. The room she was in seemed to be on the third floor, too high up for the rope around her wrists to help.
These buildings were city buildings, not village or farm buildings. Krakkow wasn't close enough for him to have driven there before Dark-After. Though even unconscious, she could have withstood the cold, he couldn't stay alive in the bone-chill, the car giving scant protection. This must still be The Rokk.
Knowledge is good, she told herself. And the fact that I'm still here. She sighed. Golden will already be looking for me. At least she hoped he was looking for her. Which he would be if this was just the next morning, if Senekka had been found in the alley, if the hatchling ... But if Senekka had not gotten out of the alley, she'd be dead from the cold. And maybe not yet found. Golden and Henkky might not even
know I'm missing. Yet.
Her stomach growled again. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd eaten last. More important than eating, though, was finding water.
By this point she'd paced around the entire room. There wasn't any sink. There was nothing in the room except the mattress, the chair, a single window, the shutters, and bare boards. The only way to get water was going to be through Dark.
Bare boards have nails. She was suddenly alive with hope. I can use the nails.
The first time around the room, she'd paced like a newly caught feral in a stall. This time she went around more slowly, until she'd gathered half a dozen nails, loosening them first with her fingertips and then pulling them out. She split off half of her left thumbnail in the process.
Something else that hurts. Then she realized: Doesn't matter.
Quickly she sorted through the six nails, chose the sharpest, hid the other five under the filthy mattress. Flopping down on a dry part of the mattress—as far away from the wet spot as possible, as close to the window for the light—she began picking at the rope around her wrists with the sixth nail.
It was slow work, especially with her wrists already rubbed sore. She tried not to cry, but the picking went infinitely slowly. And everything hurt so much: her wrists, her torn nail, her head. But if she cried, she wouldn't be able to see what she was doing. So she snuffled a couple of times, then went back to work.
Suddenly, she straightened up. Even if I free my hands, I can't fight Dark. He's bigger and stronger—and he has that gun.
"Don't be worm waste," she whispered to herself. "You have to do one thing at a time." She bent back over and stuck the sharp point of the nail into the rope, picking out another bit of the strand. The nail slipped, and scratched the back of her hand. In her current book of pain, it didn't even rate a mention.
But that small bit of unraveling was all she managed, for just then she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Putting the nail in the little pocket of her dress, she lay down on her side, her back to the door, closed her eyes, pretended to sleep.
And actually slept.
***
SHE AWOKE and found herself half off the mattress. The shutters were closed, but a bit of light through the chink showed her that it was coming toward Dark-After. Again.