I read the scripture once more in light of Queen Kalia’s fear-filled vitriol, and I find myself trembling. Wretched though I am here, I understand now why she imprisoned me in this tower.
My eyes close, but the letters of the holy text are burned into my heart. I do not need to see the page to call to mind every word of this, the Prophetess Darshana’s ultimate oracle.
“For a Rajas Daughter is Promised to you,
And she will lead her people back to Earth…”
– excerpt from The Journal of the Lost Princess, Part I
Written 764 years after the Crash Landing
Chapter 32:
Sukren was annoyed. As soon as the cable car doors closed, he turned on the soldiers sitting across from him. “You had to make it look realistic. That’s it!”
In response, one of the two Eenta soldiers dug into his pack and offered him an ice wrap. Sukren snatched it from him and placed it over his left eye. Holy Sarana, his face ached. He hadn’t had a thrashing like this for years.
“We’re sorry,” the soldier said. “But our instructions were clear. We had to make it seem like something really bad was going to happen to you.”
Sukren snorted. “So you beat me half to death.”
“We figured it was the most effective way to get the message across.”
Exhaling, Sukren leaned back in his seat. They were probably right, although Sukren wasn’t going to admit it out loud. Mayah had looked utterly terrified at the sight of him bloodied and bruised. Just the final link of the chain he’d spent the last two years fastening her to. It was perfect, wasn’t it? Now she would be afraid forever. As for Sukren, well, maybe he was glad, actually, that the bruises were real. The pain washing over him now was well-deserved punishment for how badly he’d damaged Mayah.
“Do you need another ice wrap?”
“No,” Sukren replied. He glanced out the cable car window. It was too dark to see much. During the sunlit hours Rajas would crowd into these cable cars in order to marvel at the view of the sprawling fields beneath. It was also the only way they could legally travel to other castles. Sukren had taken Mayah half a season ago to visit Woodheart after he’d earned enough credits through extra shifts at the Zone 9 clinic. She’d been a little frightened that the cables holding up the car would break, but Sukren had assured her they wouldn’t, and she’d enjoyed the ride after that, even smiling and pointing out things for Sukren to look at through the window. It had been a bright moment in what otherwise had been a dark and bleak period.
Sukren’s shoulders slumped. How did I end up here? Yesterday I was the handler of the Promised Daughter, and today I’m fleeing Lost Technology to who-knows-where. And all I can think about is Mayah, about the way I left her, about Lady Nari’s refusal to promise me a chance to see her again. If it’s necessary. That’s what she said. And what did I say in response? Tell me what you want me to do. I didn’t even fight. I surrendered right away. How very like me.
“Where are we going?” he asked out loud.
“Our orders are to deliver you to LakeCentral Castle.”
There was a stiffness in the response that made Sukren look up. Both soldiers were men, which was unusual. Most Eenta soldier pairings were mixed gender. Up until now Sukren hadn’t particularly cared that they were Eenta; he’d gotten used to seeing the soldiers in every elevator bay and in the middle of major traffic points. As a doctor-priest, Sukren had high status enough to be left alone. Besides, these Eenta were in Lady Nari’s patronage. Surely if there were any Eenta who believed in serf solidarity, it would be the ones under Lady Nari’s authority.
But there was something odd about the soldier on Sukren’s left. He was refusing to meet Sukren’s eyes, for one. And he hadn’t apologized to Sukren yet, like his partner had. The first time he’d spoken was to answer Sukren’s question in that strange, stiff way.
“LakeCentral, that’s an Eenta-majority quinter,” Sukren said quietly. “What am I going to be doing there?”
“Well, you know,” the friendlier soldier replied, his hands twitching in his lap, “the quinter might be Eenta-majority, but the castle, you know, it’s diverse, like all castles, well, except for Stoneset, I suppose, but Stoneset Castle is special, you know?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Sukren kept his eyes on the other soldier. “You took my papers. Could I have them back?”
“You’ll be getting new papers.”
There it was. That flash of contempt. A contempt which Sukren had felt in the blows earlier. Pulling the ice wrap away from his face, he said, still quietly, “I may be a Chenta, but I’m still a doctor-priest, and the guardian of the Promised Daughter.”
“Not in your new papers.”
Sukren’s jaw stiffened. He’d used both his status as a doctor-priest and his position as Mayah’s guardian to do things like reserve the butterfly balcony for his private use, block other doctor-priests from entering the rooms he’d decided to use to treat patronless serfs, and get out of standard rotation duties assigned to the other doctor-priests in his squad. If this soldier’s behavior was a taste of life without such leeway, Sukren wasn’t sure he wanted to stay for the rest of the meal.
“Give them to me,” Sukren said.
“When we arrive.”
“Oh, come on, Zed,” the other soldier said. “Give them to him. He’s got to have them on arrival, anyway, doesn’t he?”
“He can wait.”
“No, I can’t,” Sukren cut in. He leaned forward, stifling a wince. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I can promise you, it’s not more important than making sure I have what I need, to do what I’m called to, for the Free Serfs. Each of us has a part to play, soldier. Play yours. And remember, while I may not be a doctor-priest anymore in those papers of yours, I will always remain her guardian.”
The Eenta soldier glared at him. Sukren refused to break eye contact. He wasn’t going anywhere, he could wait, and yes, there it was, the Eenta was pulling out a booklet of papers from his pack. “Shouldn’t’ve picked you,” he muttered as he handed them over to Sukren.
“Picked me for what?”
The Eenta scowled. “The guardianship.”
That was new. Sukren hadn’t expected to hear complaints about him as Mayah’s guardian. He supposed it made a certain sense. Up until two years ago, nobody had known who the Promised Daughter was, and many hadn’t even heard of her birth. After Sukren and Mayah moved to the castle, Lady Nari had allowed him – told him – to spread the word. Anonymity won’t protect her anymore. Celebrity might. He’d done his job, relying on the castle’s well-established gossip networks. By the end of his two years in Lost Technology Castle, every Free Serf there, and many in the other castles, knew Mayah was the Promised Daughter, and that he was her guardian. Statistically speaking, at least a few people had to be unhappy with him as the choice. Jealousy, maybe. Or something else? Either way, it behooved Sukren to found out. Sukren was not just the guardian of the Promised Daughter, he was also one of Lady Nari’s foremost agents. If her patronees were unhappy for whatever reason, it would help her to know why.
Sukren shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “Who would you have had Lady Nari choose instead?”
The Eenta didn’t seem inclined to explain himself, but Sukren was willing to wait. Holding the ice wrap against his face with one hand, he opened his booklet. Everything was the same as before except for his current castle designation and caste. Sukren couldn’t help but grimace. A servie? That was who he had to pretend to be?
“Lady Nari’s a Chenta, she couldn’t’ve picked an Eenta to be the guardian?”
Startled out of his disappointment, Sukren looked up. The Eenta looked sullen. Sukren removed the ice wrap from his face. His eye still smarted but Sukren could sense an opportunity and he wasn’t going to let go of it. “It sounds like you think it’s unfair.”
“That’s right.”
The cable car rocked back and forth a little in the wind. Sukren ignored the jolting. “Maybe you’re afraid that Lady Nari isn’t sincere when she teaches there’s no difference between the Chenta and the Eenta. Maybe you think she’s more about the liberation of the Chenta than of the Eenta.”
“Naw, Zed doesn’t think that,” the other soldier protested at once. “Lady Nari has always been good to us. She doesn’t favor the Chenta.”
“What do you think?” Sukren asked Zed.
There was a pause. Wind whistled outside the cable car, shaking it a little again. Sukren gritted his teeth against the pain that washed through him when he braced himself against the bioplastic seat. But he remained silent, looking at Zed.
Zed finally nodded. “You’re right. Lady Nari doesn’t play favorites.”
“No patron really does,” Sukren replied. “Or an Eenta patron couldn’t get any Chenta servies into her patronage, and a Chenta patron couldn’t get any Eenta soldiers into hers.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“So why did you doubt Lady Nari?”
“It’s just some stuff we’ve been hearing,” the other soldier broke in. “Zed didn’t take it seriously. Nobody did.”
Sukren kept himself very still. “What have you been hearing?”
“You know,” Zed replied. “Lady Ki’s patronees have been talking about how the Chenta have been more oppressed than the Eenta, so when the Uprising happens, the Chenta should get a larger share of any seized goods.”
Hearing that made Sukren angry. He’d had no high opinion of Lady Ki before, but holy Sarana, what kind of stupidity was she teaching her serfs? Seized goods? That was what she thought the Uprising was about?
“Lady Ki is a fool,” Sukren replied. “The Uprising is about Earth. It’s about the Promised Daughter leading us back to Earth.”
Sukren placed the ice wrap back onto his eye and leaned back. He could see out of his other eye that Zed still didn’t look convinced. Sukren would have to report this to Lady Nari. Lady Ki was a Free Serf patron, too, but more and more, it was beginning to look like not all Free Serf patrons were united. What that meant for the Uprising, Sukren couldn’t be sure, but he doubted it would be anything good.