“Definitely wasn’t an arc welder that did this to him.” Caldren gripes as he inspects the stump where my arm used to be. The smell of pipe smoke wafting from his breath.
“That a question or a statement.” Fennec asks, arms folded as he sits on a stool under a flickering light.
“Depends, how much are you paying?” Caldren asks as he slides forward his cracked monocle to look closer.
Fennec looks to the blue haired woman who leans against the door we came in, her hands shaking, I can see gore playing behind her eyes as her face flinches periodically. Fennec cracks his neck then says firmly “250 now, 250 after.”
“I suppose it was more of an observation in that case.” Caldren says raising up his wrist towards Fennec who swipes to him from his own holopad.
A chime from Caldren’s holopad and a smile as he parts his greasy hair with his scarred hand tells me the payment was received.
“Okay, going to need some things. Going to take me a few hours to get em. How’s about you go stay at The Hidden Gecko on F22, know a guy there that’ll keep you off the books.” Caldren says.
“Didn’t say I needed to be off the books.” Fennec says rolling his neck again.
“Right – well like I said it’s on F22, tell him I sent you – or don’t.” Caldren says flicking the monocle off, it swivels to the side of his head, a gentle creak as it stops. He pauses for a moment looking at my face, I do not shy from his stare, he does not intimidate me.
In the words of Nekam he has the look of a Ziba in the old tongue. There was nary a man he could not predict was a squealer of secrets. This is Fennec’s world though and I do not know the people of the Arasha tribes. Perhaps it is a prerequisite of survival here. It is not for me to judge their ways, not with the smell of the masters boot lingering on their necks.
Fennec grunts and jumps off the stool moving towards me, grabbing me up. I do not resist as he hoists all of my weight onto him. We have been in this strange man’s office for more than an hour and the pain from my lost limbs is climbing – the numbness and adrenaline rolling away into phantom pain, like my hand is still clenched around the black blades hilt, and other pain where the charred flesh meets the living in my leg stinging like fire licks it still. I need to find a quiet place and meditate, frustration froths for the helplessness I still feel, being at the whim and mercy of the blue haired woman and Fennec. I am not sure if I will stay with them once they fix my body.
“Oh, and someone will need to remove the charred flesh on his leg, not really my thing to torture folks, the pain sups you gave him are wearing off.” Caldren says as we are almost out of the room.
“Do you have any…” the blue haired woman begins but Caldren interrupts with a grunt.
“This is all I got.” He says throwing a bottle of sloshing fluid to her.
“Liquor – are you kidding me?” she protests.
“Thanks Caldren.” Fennec says giving him a nod, pushing the woman out into the hall with him.
Once they are to the rickety metal pod Fennec unloads a torrent of words on her.
“We agreed – this is my domain, you don’t speak or protest or throw a fit, you say nothing just nod.” Fennec growls at her.
“Well, you weren’t helping, he’s clearly been in pain for an hour now. Am I just supposed to wait for you to figure it out?”
“He is Kuwathi, he breathes pain for breakfast, spars with it for lunch and asks for seconds at dinner. Pain is the least of our worries, you stink like high society, your accent, your mannerisms – everything about you screams you don’t belong.” Fennec says pounding a fist against the wall in frustration “You’re going to get us all killed, for what? A bottle of booze?”
She pounds the same wall, her fist leaving a noticeable dent in the wall unlike his. She doesn’t say anything back to him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath then opens them again, straightening herself. The pod door slides open, and we all enter, silence falling over us. Fennec taps the console for F22.
The ride takes longer than it should have, they do not speak even after Fennec checks us into a different hotel called The Busy Bee, the rooms are tucked into hexagonal pods along a large wall, a metal platform raises us up towards our room, 349. As soon as the door opens, Fennec drops me onto one of the three beds and departs the room, the metal door slamming after him. She walks over to the door and slides a deadbolt. There is an awkward silence that hangs in the air still that she finally breaks.
“I’m going to shower and change, if you need anything just yell.” She says opening a sliding metal door on the opposite side of the room, after grabbing some strange clothes from a wall cubby.
Hearing the lock slide, I look around the room briefly taking note of my surroundings, besides the three beds there are a series of compartments around the room, all following the same design scheme of hexagons. On the walls I see labels for various things like towels and toiletries. The pain surges again, my hand tightens on the soft sheets as I pull myself into better position. Laying on my back now, I begin to meditate through the pain, absorbing what I have seen and trying to make sense of everything. The words from the demon finally having abated, for now.
***
An hour later she finally emerges, her eyes still hollow, she wears some kind of themed hotel clothes that have advertisements on it.
“Let me help you into the shower, we can get you cleaned up and start working on the burns.” She says softly, grabbing me up like Fennec did.
Her grip is stronger than his, I feel like a ragdoll in her grasp, but she is gentler than him, like I am some kind of fragile thing that might break. It irritates me more than the pain.
“You do not need to be so gentle.” I tell her, our pace slow and uneven to a destination not far off.
She nods and moves me a little quicker. When we get into the bathroom, I see it is similar to the ones the masters have us use, in the sense that it has a toilet and a shower, however like most everything else in this place, it appears to be run down. Her clothes hang upon a line tied between two metal hooks attached to the walls, water drips from them to the floor, rolling towards a rusted drain.
“You’re doing great, almost there.” She says encouragingly.
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I can tell she has not spent much time among my people as I feel the irritation rising higher. Her encouragement is like harassment to my ears, notating my deficiencies.
When we get to the shower, I slump to the floor and prop myself up to the wall, beginning the grueling task of stripping my clothes with only one hand. She turns from me as I remove my briefs, a flush to her face, are her people shy to nudity? I ignore it and reach towards the shower control. Frustration rolls upwards into my mouth as I curse aloud, unable to reach the knob.
“Sekat.”
She quickly turns it on then pulls the drape closed.
“Let me know when you’re finished.” She says, I do not reply.
The water strikes my body in a steady stream, the caked blood and oil rolls down my bruised and battered body. Large deep bruises all over my flesh from the stones of the collapsing building. It is a miracle I am still alive, my jaw tightens as the blood spins towards the drain. As the steam from the water rises, images of what has happened flash in my mind, my hand beginning to tremble. Her voice distracts the demons that try to pull me into their grip.
“What you said before Vada Nok…” She begins, butchering the pronunciation.
“Vada Nokul Demka.” I say.
“Yes – that, what does it really mean?”
“Like most Kuwathi sayings in the old tongue, it does not translate well.” I explain.
“Try, please.” She says from behind the thin fabric. The shadow of her face presses against it from the light in the room.
“It means roughly – Do not dishonor those you have slain by dying an unworthy death.”
“I think I understand the meaning, do you think you could explain further to make sure… please.”
“If you would have continued to be still and died, it would have rendered their deaths pointless. The dead cling to the living, the greatest honor you can give them is to live a full life and die a worthy death. That is what the Kuwathi believe at least.” I stop speaking, realizing she weeps silently, the shadow the light projects of her tells me as much.
I see her holding her hands up to her face now, crying into them. It is considered rude among my people to look upon someone who cries, turning spares them some shame. To my surprise, my head does not turn, it takes in the shadow of her tears, a tinge of pain in my chest as I look at the sight. Behind the curtain is a weeping master, but the shadow is of a woman, a woman who sheds tears because she protected me. Sekat. Guilt rises past the frustrations, it threatens to spill out into actions, I swallow hard to push it back down with the bile that clings to my soul.
She straightens suddenly, collecting herself, wiping her tears. After a few minutes she reaches into the shower and turns off the water, a towel follows.
“We need to get you ready for the attachment procedure, dry yourself I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”
I grab the towel from her hand grazing her fingers with mine, briefly holding them in place, the warmth of her hands surprises me, she does not recoil from the touch… to my shame neither do I for a time. After I have reclaimed my hand, I place it over my defiant heart that flutters for this woman. Taking a deep breath now, not letting it out until everything has settled in me.
***
The garb of the Arasha people is strange and varies like the colors of a rainbow, a sight I have seen few times, but remember it well. There is so much variety it makes it difficult to focus on important things, I find myself distracted by the smallest details. The clothes she gave me hugs my skin too tight for my liking, the shorts above my knees, they are impractical and provide no protection against the scorching rays of the suns. I can only hope they will have a cloak for me if we venture out in the daylight. The large bee that is embroidered upon my chest is also too flashy for my taste and will make me stand out in a crowd no doubt.
The woman paces back and forth checking her holopad that hangs silent upon her wrist. It has been nearly three hours since Fennec left, I can only assume he has not sent her any word based on the level of her stress. Her eyes move towards the door now.
The sound of metal gears grinding draw my attention to it as well. A series of knocks follows in quick succession forming a rhythm, a code of some kind, my people do this often. The woman rushes to the door and waits for a moment before sliding the bolt back. The door opens and closes swiftly. Fennec comes in covered in fresh blood, holding a large duffle bag, smoke rises from the edge of it. He shuts the door throwing the bag down muttering to himself under his breath. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me upon the bed.
“You couldn’t find him something more tasteful to wear?” Fennec asks looking over to her with an incredulous look.
“Does it look like I carry a man’s wardrobe with me?” she quips, then turning her head to the side inquisitively “What happened to Caldren?”
“Dead, or at least probably dead. Everything went tits up. I was right to check us in here and not there.” Fennec says, clutching his side now, his face winces as he sits down. With great effort he leans over picking the bloodied bag up and throwing it towards the bed, it strikes the floor loudly, the sound of metal inside it.
“Well, this isn’t the first time a friend of yours has…” she begins.
“I said he was a buddy, never said friend. Gods I need a shower and a stiff drink, in that order.” He groans tossing his cloak to the floor, standing up and moving towards the bathroom.
I find myself unsurprised things went awry with Caldren, my first thought of him was that he was a Ziba, Nekam would have smelled him out in a moment, my chief does not deal with people of that disposition for a reason. In the old tongue Ziba means simply – Rat which squeals.
“What about him, who’s going to fix him up?”
“My orders were clear, protect you and ensure smooth recovery of the black edict. Done that. He wasn’t on my list of problems.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She says.
“Look, the stuff you need is in the bag. Stop nagging me, I’ve had one hells of a month.” Fennec says slamming the bathroom door shut.
“Selfish minded…” the woman grumbles as she rips the large bag open, tossing a metal arm and leg onto the bed.
She tosses another set of tools onto the bed with it and begins inspecting the arm for a few minutes, her gaze reminds me of Nekam when he would check the knots of the ropes. Some of the gears appear to be rusted which causes her to curse loudly.
“You couldn’t even manage to get something decent!” she yells at the bathroom door.
“You – are – lucky – I – grabbed – that!” Fennec yells, his voice muffled by the metal door.
“Slagging hells.” She curses, then going back to the bag she pulls out a green dye container “What’s with the hair dye?”
The door opens, Fennec moves out, still throwing on his shirt, one boot on his foot, the other being dragged behind him.
“Blue haired woman notice was put out, time to dye your hair again. Now if you don’t have any other pressing questions, I need a Sekating drink.” Fennec says, then turning and giving a fake bow “My lady.”
The door slams as he exits. She moves forward and slides the deadbolt. She is about to punch the door, but she stops – her balled up fist slowly releases. She turns now, grabbing the bottle of booze from the wall cubby and taking a long drag on it. Her face contorts for a moment.
“You’ll want to drink some of this. It should take the edge off for the procedure.” Tossing me the bottle, then departing into the bathroom, the green dye container in her hand.
My mind is still catching up, she’s going to attach the arm and the leg? Does she even know how? Sekat. Looking down to the bottle I bring it to my nose, the smell burns my nostrils. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and let it out, beginning to drink from the bottle. It is very bitter, a foul taste. When I finish half the bottle, I put it on the table and my chest burns deeply, my breath feels like it’s on fire. Why the guards from my city would want such a foul thing for a reward I do not know. My stomach churns as the fire swells in it.
***
There is a lightness in my head, my burdens feeling somehow further away. The weight of the pain in my missing limbs lifting, becoming more distant. The door to the bathroom finally opens, the woman comes out quickly moving towards me. She dries her hair with a towel. It is strange, I feel more comfortable with her now, less tensed than before. The towel falls from her head, and she shakes her hair. It almost feels like time slows as the strands of green flick across her face, whipping the air until they come to rest.
“How do I look, did I miss anything?” she asks, running a hand through her hair uncovering her face.
“Beautiful…” I say, turning my gaze away from her, towards my hand that reaches up to my mouth… it has betrayed me, why did it utter that. Looking back up to her I see her face is flushed. I feel mine is as well. Sekat.
She turns from me moving towards the small table where I left the bottle. Picking it up she weighs it in her hand. An eyebrow raises for a moment, then she takes a large drink from it, setting it back down.
“Let’s get started.” She says grabbing her bag of equipment from the other bed, the metal leg slung over her shoulder now.