“Koontz?” said Bern.
“Oh! And Alec is with him,” said Lille. “He’s the fair one. I can’t wait to introduce you. Though I wish it was under better circumstances.” She glanced again at the gnarled restraints.
Four soldiers bearing long spears followed several paces behind them. They spread out across the grounds to form a perimeter.
“Well, best of luck to you all. I’ll be off, then,” said Master Felix, stepping away.
“Felix, where do you think you are going?” said Koontz. The curly-haired man approached cautiously, both hands clutching a short staff. Her eyes were mobile and fearful.
“Transferring custody. I need to go get the next escort organized. We had a bit of a tussle this morning. Lost a cruiser.”
“Yes, but you need to tell me what we’re dealing with here.”
“Mavericks,” said Master Felix. “Captured with an injured Duster in their presence. In fact, they just brought up the Duster in question.” He pointed to the sack holding Urszula.
“That’s it? That’s all I have to go on?”
“That’s all there is to say.”
Alec went straight to Lille and hugged her, pecking her lightly on both cheeks.
“Alec, I’d like you to meet Bern.”
Bern stood up straighter than usual and thrust out his hand. Something hard glinted deep in his eyes.
“Bern! What a pleasure,” said Alec. “I’ve heard so much you.”
“I bet you have.”
“What do you think of Lille’s little makeover?”
“I’m not … sure.”
“Bern? Don’t be silly.”
“You were already beautiful, Lille. You didn’t require any enhancement.”
“Enhancement? This isn’t just a nose job. This is my youth, restored!”
“Yes, well. Whatever.” He tried stepping back and must have forgotten he was attached to the ground and stumbled, nearly toppling.
Lille rushed over to brace him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he said, straightening back up.
“Are these restraints really necessary, Alec? These boys are no threat to anyone. I doubt you have to worry about them running about the place wreaking havoc.”
“Master Koontz?”
“I’d prefer they remain booted,” said the curly-haired man. “Considering they were found with a Duster, they could have sympathies with Neueden.”
“Do you?” said Alec, to me and Bern.
“Sympathies?” I said. “Well, she was hurt. I guess I just hate seeing people suffer.”
“People. Interesting you see them that way,” said Alec. “Not all Frelsians do.”
“Have you had any prior interactions with the Dusters? said Koontz.
“Well, yeah,” I said. “They grabbed us and threw us in the pits.”
“These were … separate incidents?”
“It was … about a week ago for me.”
“And I was attacked the same time as Lille,” said Bern.
“Nothing else?” said Koontz.
“Other than the skirmish we had yesterday? No,” I said
“And what exactly happened?”
“She attacked our friend. We knocked her off her mantis and … she broke her arm and ankle. Bern splinted her arm and wrapped the ankle.”
Koontz rolled his eyes. “This is a waste of my time. I don’t know why they summoned me. You two seem harmless enough, apart from your misguided charity.” But then his eyebrows tilted. He took my wrist and twisted my arm to expose the underside. “You’re not vetted?”
“They’re mavericks, Koontz,” said Alec. “They found their own way to the surface. But this is not an issue. I’m happy to do the deed right here. From what Lille has told me, and from what I see. They both qualify.”
“They’re all yours, then,” said Koontz. He tapped his staff against the roots binding our feet. They shriveled and curled away, retracting back into the ground. He clapped to get the attention of his security escort. “Back to the gates.” They gathered around their charge. Koontz dipped his brow and hurried off, his eyes flitting to every Hemi that passed too close.
Alec reached into his jacket, which was made of a suede-like material, with contrasting panels of cobalt blue and deep purple. He removed a small bundle and unwrapped it, revealing a pouch and a metal device with straps that resembled an oversized wristwatch. “Alright. Who wants to go first?”
Bern held out his arm. “I trust there’s no pain.”
“Oh, don’t be such a child, Bern,” said Lille. “You won’t feel a thing.”
Alec pulled some brown strands from a pouch. It looked like pipe tobacco. He pressed them into a cavity beneath the device and strapped it to the underside of Bern’s arm. He turned a knob. There came a hiss.
“There you go.” He unstrapped it, revealing an angry red C on the underside of Bern’s forearm, opening towards his elbow.
Lille rose up on the tips of her toes and planted a kiss on his chin. “Congratulations, dear!”
“Next?” The mentor looked at me.
“Uh … I don’t think so,” I said, crossing my arms. “Not right now.”
“James, really?” said Lille. “I assure you, it doesn’t hurt one bit. Isn’t that right, Bern?”
“That’s true. Feels a bit itchy at first, but … no real pain.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m just not … ready.”
“It’s just a formality, son,” said Alec. “Not having it might cause you some difficulties inside these walls.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not so sure how long I’m gonna be hanging around here.”
“Excuse me?” said Lille.
“You really are a maverick, aren’t you?” said Alec.
“Well, it’s just that … I promised Karla I’d meet here out in the canyons. I just … I don’t want to do this until she has a chance.”
“How sweet,” said Lille. “Though, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“Give me a day to think about it. Can you?”
“If you insist,” said Alec, packing up his kit. “In the meantime, I would suggest you keep a low profile. If you thought Koontz was bad, there others here more extreme.” He tucked his device away. “Well, I’ll leave you with your friends. I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”
Chapter 23: Butterfly
As Lille led us back to her little, slapdash hut, we dodged through the steady stream of foot traffic that had picked up alongside the parade ground. People carried empty baskets and gourds. Pack frames were lashed to some of their backs. They pushed and pulled a crazy diversity of carts and wagons past the Reapers to the outer gates.
The occasional Freesoul among them was identifiable by their gaudy attire. They never walked alone it seemed, but always with bodyguards and attendants.
Lille’s hut was a crude echo of all the cabins and cottages she and Bern had erected together from Luthersburg to the cavern to the plains. A set of rickety walls was propped against the outer stone barricade and covered by a sloppy roof of thatch and bark—the sort of structure you might expect in a third world shanty town.
Despite its rough exterior, I could see she had done whatever she could to make the inside cozy. The dirt floor was covered with sisal mats. Patchwork hangings covered seams and gaps in the walls to keep out the breezes. The interior smelled like a mushroom farm.
“Make yourself at home. I realize it’s tight quarters, but we can clear a space for you to sleep in the corner.”
Bern rapped on the wall. “What in blazes is this made of?” The exterior had a hard, rippled finish that looked like molten ice cream that had been flash frozen. The inside was smooth and velvety. I ran my finger over the pale finish and my fingernail engraved a brown scratch.
“It’s tree fungus,” I said. “Huge slabs of it.”
“Giant mushrooms? But why? When you can weave yourself a—“
“Weaving gets difficult this far from th
e Core,” said Lille. “Only the Masters can do it. The rest rely on other …. technologies … so to speak. It’s part of the price of going free.”
“This is unacceptable,” said Bern. “Look how flimsy it is. I can wiggle the whole damn wall.”
“Bern, please don’t. You’re going to knock it over.”
“One shouldn’t have to worry about such things. It’s supposed to be a wall, for goodness sake. It’s shoddy workmanship.”
“Patience, darling. This is just temporary quarters. We’ll find ourselves some bigger and better digs when we move up to the Inner Sanctuary.”
Lille’s place was a little too cozy for three, especially with a squabble going on, so I stepped back outside. I sat on a gourd the size of a barrel and watched the bustle along the parade ground.
Everyone seemed in such a rush. People acted as their beasts of burden, carrying heavy loads on their backs, hauling wagons. Some had yoked themselves up with contraptions that distributed the pressure of their loads to their chests. There must not have been enough of those tame Reapers to go around.
Some fully loaded carts began to come in from beyond the outer gates. Some carried overstuffed sacks full of unformed roots that must have been mined from some pit. A wagon wheeled up next to the Reaper trench, stacked with what looked like a bunch of dirty logs.
Not ten feet away from me, a guy who had been pulling a cart seized up and fell. His face turned blotchy as it shimmered. His clothes went slack and just like that, he was gone.
With hardly a pause, another guy came rushing over, threw his load in the back of the cart and climbed under the yoke.
Maybe that was why everyone was in such a hurry around here. One never knew when their time would run out.
Any moment now, it could be me. I was certainly in no hurry to leave. Back in Scotland, locked away in that cell, there was nothing to do but wallow in pain and worry about Karla. My extended stay in Root had been a blessing.
Lille and Bern were having a hushed but intense conversation inside. Lille was crying. I felt like a third wheel sitting outside those thin walls, so I got up and went for a stroll.
In a place where everyone’s business seemed urgent, a loiterer like me stood out like a black swan. I tried to stay out of people’s way, meandering through the spaces that seemed the least busy. But I couldn’t help gravitating towards that pathetic, little bundle at the edge of the Reapers’ trench.
Urszula had stopped writhing. I bent down to see if she was alright. A pair of soldiers stood chatting on the ramp at the far side. Neither paid me any attention.
A rough, cloth bag had been secured over her head. I undid the drawstring and yanked it off. She lurched and let out a shriek loud enough to shatter bone. I staggered back, nearly tumbling into the trench with the Reapers, before catching my balance. The soldiers stared at me, but soon turned away and resumed their conversation.
Urszula glared at me through the mesh, her grey-specked eyes wide and wild, her face like granite. “What do you want?”
“I just came by to see if you were okay.”
“Why do you care?”
Her ankle looked all purple and swollen. “I can’t believe they just left you here. What are they going to do with you?”
“Interrogation. Execution.”
“Execution? Are you sure about that?”
“None of my brothers or sisters has ever left Frelsi alive. Why would they spare us? We are their enemies.”
“Well, that ain’t fair,” I said. “I mean, I’m not crazy about how you all went after us, but you don’t deserve to … die … for it—so to speak.”
“There is nothing to be done. One less enemy is one less they have to fight.”
“That’s just not fair,” I said. “You showed us mercy. You guys could have turned us to dust instead of sticking us back into those pits.”
“You were not Frelsians. Yet.”
“I’m still not,” I said, displaying my unblemished forearms. “And I’m not sure I ever will be. The way they do things here makes my skin crawl.”
Someone shifted in her face. She looked puzzled, confused.
“You know,” I said. “Let’s see what I can do for you. My friend Lille has an in with this guy named Alec. He’s a Freesoul. Maybe there’s a way to get you released.”
“You know nothing about Frelsi, do you?” she said, looking away.
I tugged at the mesh enclosing her. It clung as if part of her skin. There was no way to tear it free without removing bits of her as well.
I glanced up to check on the soldiers. A little ways away was that cart with the cargo of strange logs.
I just about shit my pants. Those weren’t logs, they were corpses; or more accurately, living mummies like the one Bern had shown me down in the wash. A couple dozen were heaped on top of each other in its bed.
“What the fuck are they doing with those?”
“Food for Reapers,” said Urszula.
I took a breath and sighed. “Now that’s just nasty.”
“Where else would they find enough meat? Unlike us, the Old Ones don’t fight back.”
“Christ? Where do they get them all?”
“They harvest them. There is another old city on this massif. Abandoned. The Old Ones still lie where they fell. Though, their souls have moved on to another place.”
“So what’s gonna happen when they get eaten?”
“Back to the Deeps, like me.”
“Oh no, not if I have any say in the matter.”
“Forget it. My fate is already decided. Leave me be and let me have some peace.”
I looked down at the chose snoring, snuffling Reapers. One masticated a mass of shattered bone like a cow chewing its cud. My stomach turned.
“Can I … can I get you anything?” I couldn’t keep the pity out of my voice.
Urszula looked startled. She licked at her cracked lips. “I am … thirsty.”
“You! Get away!” One of the soldiers came trotting over, a staff leveled in his grip.
“She needs water,” I said.
“The she-demon can do without. Now off with you!”
I crouched down and whispered close to Urszula’s ear. “I’ll sneak you a drink when they’re not looking. And don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you.”
***
I went back to the shack and leaned against the perimeter wall, keeping a close watch over Urszula, ready to pounce the instant any asshole went near her with intent to harm. I meant to keep my promise.
Bern came out and lowered himself awkwardly, gimpy leg sticking out, onto a stone that had fallen out of the wall.
“Will you look at those busy little bees? The place is like bloody Calcutta. You have your worker class and what seems to be a leisure class. Oh! Look at that one! Those duds. Like he’s in a fooking circus. If Lille expects me to dress like that, she’s got another thing coming.”
“What was that, darling?” said Lille, hefting a large, lidded earthenware pot onto the stoop.
“Oh, nothing hon. Just watching the world go by.”
“How about some ambrosia, you two? I had a nice batch delivered just the other day.”
“Ambrosia?”
“Well, that’s what they call it. It’s just a porridge, basically. It’s the staple here in Frelsi. The texture leaves something to be desired, but it has a nice flavor.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Lille handed us bowls that looked like halves of ostrich eggs and ladled helpings of a lumpy yellow porridge that smelled faintly sulfurous. Lille noticed the disgust on my face.
“Have a bite before you turn up your nose at it. I assure you, it tastes much, much better than it looks and smells.”
“Oh my, look at that wee beastie!” said Bern, pointing to a Reaper that had the body of a horse and the snout of an anteater. “Four legs! First one of those I’ve seen. And the size of the chap that’s riding it. That can’t be natural. Shades of Luther, that’s woven fle
sh if I ever saw it.”
“He’s a grenadier,” said Lille. “They like them big.”
“Shock troops, eh? These people are serious about their warfare. This is not mere defense we’re talking about.”
Lille handed us some crude wooden spoons. “Pardon the cutlery.”
I took a tiny spoonful of the ambrosia. It tasted like strawberry-flavored cream of mushroom soup, both fruity and salty, with a musky, earthy aftertaste.
“What do you think?” said Lille.
“A little strange,” I said. “But it hits the spot.”
“Not bad,” agreed Bern. “But it goes in like a mouthful of pus and phlegm.”
Lille sat beside Bern on the crate, draping their arms around him.
“Bernard here doesn’t like my makeover.” She pouted.
“It’s not that. They did a marvelous job. There’s no trace of your scars. It’ll just take some getting used to. Like this porridge.”
“I can’t wait to see what they can do with that mug of yours,” said Lille. “Not that you’re not already handsome, of course.”
I couldn’t even picture Bern as a young man. He was one of those guys who seemed to have passed into the world in full-blown maturity. The idea that he had passed through a childhood seemed somehow ludicrous.
“Oh, look at that,” said Bern. “There goes yet another freak.”
He pointed his cane at a man dressed in a long coat with a pattern that shifted with the touch of every breeze.
“Oh Bern, be nice. I happen to know that gentleman. That’s Patrick. He’s a Mentor, like Alec.”
“These Mentors, what exactly is their role?”
“Coaches, basically. They help Hemis achieve their freedom. Patrick’s very good, but I do hope it’s Alec who takes you both on. He’s been wonderful to me.”
“So how does it happen?” I said. “How do you get to be free?”
“Well. There’s a process one needs to go through … in both worlds. On the other side, we need to surrender our bodies. But the tricky part is, it can’t be our own doing. That would be suicide and we all know where suicides end up.”
“What are you saying, Lille?” said Bern. “To become free, we need to be … murdered?”
“Homicide will do,” she said. “Or an accident. Or disease.”
“So if I start a fight in the prison yard and someone stomps my head to a bloody pulp, would that qualify?”
“Ooh Bern, that’s a bit brutal, don’t you think? There must be a nicer way to go about it.”