Chapter 100:

Mats of coffee cherries lined the southern end of the greenhouse, where the electric lights were strongest. With meticulous care, Rajani raked and turned her portion of the drying red fruit. She didn’t want the Eenta in charge of quality control to give a negative report to the guards who doled out the Cursed’s rations.

When she was done, Rajani stood and stretched her left arm. She looked around at the other rakers, most of whom were finishing up. Yathi, though, was behind; Rajani stooped down to help her. Together they worked in silence under the red sheen of the greenhouse’s bioplastic walls and roof. Red cherries, red walls, it was red red red everywhere Rajani turned.

“Will you tell us of your vision again tonight?” Yathi asked her.

“Yes,” Rajani replied. “After we get our food from the Eenta.”

She glanced down the length of the greenhouse, across the rows of coffee bushes, all the way to the mud huts around which the Cursed were slowly gathering. The greenhouse was a fraction of the size of the Cursed urb, but it was the largest indoor structure Rajani had ever been in, with enough space within it for fields and huts to house at least a hundred bodies.

Behind the huts was the sole exit out of the greenhouse. Rajani had learned from subtle investigations that it was guarded day and night by a troupe of soldiers – the same soldiers who once at morntide and once at eventide doled out rations to the Cursed.

Rajani could see in the distance that Ishiah was making his way to the greenhouse gate. He disappeared around its corner and reappeared a moment later, with the inspector now beside him. Rajani knew the inspector from his gait. She’d memorized it after seeing it every day of the past seven diurnals that the Cursed had spent inside the greenhouse.

Yathi shifted. Knowing she was afraid, Rajani motioned her forward. “I’ll wait for the inspector. You go ahead to the huts.”

“Thank you,” Yathi whispered.

Soon enough the inspector had crossed the fields and was running his fingers along a mat of drying cherries. Rajani listened as he said something to Ishiah in an overbelter language. Ishiah responded haltingly. After looking through the rest of the mats, the inspector nodded, said something else to Ishiah, then took off across the fields.

“What did he say?” Rajani asked.

“I think he was saying everything looked good,” Ishiah responded. “I’m not sure. He keeps talking to me in Eenma, but I was a village serf before I joined the Cursed. I know Chenmay and not much else.”

Rajani nodded. “Who’s on duty to get the food tonight?”

“Jiat and Rinen.”

Rajani winced. Rinen was fully Xhota. The Eenta guards wouldn’t bother him too much. But Jiat was half Eenta, and if there was anything their Eenta captors hated more than the myxte Chenta among the Cursed, it was the myxte Eenta. Their Eenta captors were furious, Rajani had learned, that other Eenta who shared their blood had lowered themselves to mix ethnically with the likes of mutineers and Chenta.

Ishiah saw her wince. “We each do our part.” He paused. “You ready for tonight?”

“Yes,” Rajani replied.

She was tired, but she said it as strongly as she could. Because that was her part. To speak with conviction, to share her vision as if she believed it. Which she did. She was determined to believe. Stone and starmetal, that was what Rajani was now. And this was what she was going to hold onto, this was all she could hold onto: the Cursed would not be defeated. They would not be destroyed. They would not die.

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She and Ishiah left the mats of coffee cherries behind them and returned to the cluster of huts where the Cursed were waiting. Lainla was huddled up against the wall of one of the huts, her face hidden in her arms, her glasses dangling from her fingers.

Rajani almost went up to her. She almost put her arm around her shoulders.

But a cry went up, distracting her. The food had arrived. Rajani joined the double line that stretched from the greenhouse gate to the clearing between the fields and the huts. Jiat and Rinen were at the very front of the line. They would pass a vat of food onto the first pair in the double line, who would pass it onto the next pair, and so on, until the vat reached the clearing.

Soon, too soon, all the vats were down the line and inside the greenhouse. Rajani looked at the five vats in dismay. Five? That was it? Two weeks ago they’d dropped from seven to six, and now they were dropping down to five? And it was the same cooked grain, too, which barely filled or gave energy.

Her mind spinning, Rajani joined the circle around the nearest vat. She took the ladle when it was handed to her, ate, then passed it onto the person beside her, on and on until the vat was empty. Then she went to find Kebet. He was in another circle, swallowing his last mouthful. When he saw Rajani, he wiped his mouth and hobbled over to her.

“It’s not enough,” she said to him. “They’re not giving us enough food.”

“I know,” he replied. “At this rate, we’ll starve to death.”

“If it’s not enough next time too, we should fight back. We can’t wait until we’re too weak to put up any resistance.”

“You mean we should riot.”

Rajani couldn’t help it; her mouth twisted into a smile. Before she could respond, however, the citizens nearest to the greenhouse gate began murmuring. After exchanging a glance, she and Kebet began pushing their way to the front of the crowd. There, beside the still-open gate, she saw two Eenta guards and a young Chenta man, barely out of boyhood. The Eenta guards were shouting something.

The murmurs turned into frantic whispers. “They’re saying to bring all the girls forward.”

Kebet and Rajani exchanged glances again. “Get the young girls and keep them out of sight,” she told him. She repeated herself to the people nearest her, and the whispers began changing to echo her words. Rajani herself stepped forward. She eyed the Chenta. The Eenta had never asked for any girls before. It had to be him that this was for. Yet why? Since when did Eenta show favor to a Chenta?

Rajani felt someone slip into place beside her. She turned. It was Lainla, grief still marking her face. Rajani gave her hand to her sister, who clung to it with all the force of a syrinx gunner.

They both froze when the Chenta came closer to them. He looked at Rajani, then at Lainla.

“Lainla?” he asked.

Rajani couldn’t help herself. So surprised was she to hear her sister’s name on this stranger’s lips that she looked at Lainla. Just as quickly she looked away, but it was too late. The Chenta was pointing at her sister and saying to the Eenta guards in the same garbled Xhom that Sukren had used, “I want this one.”

“No,” Rajani shouted in Xhom. “No, you’ve got it wrong.” She pointed at herself. “I’m Lainla. I’m Lainla.”

“It’s okay,” her sister said. She let go of Rajani’s hand.

“No –”

But the Eenta guards were already pulling Lainla away. Rajani tried to lunge after them, but someone held her back. Cursing herself for giving Lainla away, Rajani watched with a pounding heart as the Eenta guards began closing the portcullis. Lainla and the Chenta were standing just on the other side; Lainla was looking back at Rajani with both fear and determination in her face. There was nothing Rajani could do to help her. Nothing, nothing, nothing again, nothing from the gods, nothing from anyone, O Hunt, O Gather, why, why, why –

No, Rajani couldn’t go there, she couldn’t go back there, she had to go forward, she had to believe, she had to, she had to! This was happening for a reason, it had a purpose, it had meaning –

You know what? To hell with it. To hell with everything.

“Kill him!” she screamed. “Don’t hold back, La! Don’t wait! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”