Chapter 35:

The next night neither Sukren nor Aan spoke as they left the barracks together. Without sunlight it was harder to pick their way out down the gallery to the mirror, but the gold-trimmed lamps jutting out from the panels gave off a steady, if soft, glow. This time Sukren waited outside for Aan to get her son. He sat down on the hanging chair next to her and pulled out the journal. It wouldn’t be quite like lying. Sukren could write about when Mayah was a baby. He could write about all his memories of her. He could write down the things he’d always wanted to say. Then he’d go back and add some dates. Random dates, they wouldn’t mean anything, they wouldn’t even be noticeable to her, probably. Sukren wouldn’t even start at the beginning, he’d start in the middle, at the journal’s crease, so it would be even less like he was pretending to have written this from start to finish.

Sometimes I think the worst thing that ever happened to me was doing so well on the caste exam…

Later, on their way back, Sukren turned to Aan. “Does Lady Nari know about…” he hesitated, searching for the word.

“These wall nurseries?” Aan supplied.

“Yes,” Sukren said. “They’re not legal, are they?”

“They’re not part of any squad, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Shadow babies,” Sukren murmured. He shook his head. “So she does know?”

“Yes,” Aan said softly. “She grew up in one.”

That was right. Sukren remembered now. Lady Nari’s story was part of her tests. Her mother had been a servie. She’d refused to give Lady Nari up to a children’s group home in a village. She’d found other mothers in the castle raising their babies together in illicit nurseries. Taking turns, they’d sneaked away from their shifts, at night, during the day, pretending to be sick, stealing time away from work, accepting punishment as it came, all in order to care for their children.

“How come I’ve never seen one before?” Sukren asked, half to himself.

“Well, we’re not supposed to be different, you know? Here in the castles. We’re supposed to do the same work as any man.”

She said it so simply, as if were normal, natural, the way the bio-dome ran. And if Sukren were completely honest, he’d never given it much thought – he’d never had to give it much thought. Reflecting on it now, though, he couldn’t help but feel that it didn’t make much sense. The entire burden of reproduction had been placed on women, but with the expectation that women perform as if that burden didn’t exist. Sukren would never have been able to raise Mayah the way he had if he hadn’t been accommodated both in the village by the other villagers and in the castle by the general acceptance that his guardianship excused him from standard duties.

Aan gave him a sidelong glance. “You are from a village, aren’t you? You’re not a real servie.”

Sukren hesitated, then nodded.

“Can you tell me about it?” she whispered.

“What do you want to know?”

“I was so young when I left my village… I can’t remember… is it true that in a village, a man has to choose one woman and stand by her?”

“Yes,” Sukren whispered.

“He can’t lay her then leave her?”

He shook his head.

“And she gets to keep her children?”

Sukren nodded. “At least up until they take the caste exams. And the ones that fail the exams, they don’t get drafted into the castles. They get to stay in the villages.”

Aan smiled. Tired and careworn as she was, her face was radiant. “That’s why I applied for Lady Nari, back when I first came to be a servie. Because I heard that she doesn’t hunt down the nurseries. She lets them be. She’ll even protect you if you’re transferring squads because your squad leader came down on you for going to a wall nursery.”

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“She’s a good patron,” Sukren whispered.

But it wasn’t Lady Nari that Sukren was thinking of. It was Mayah.

***

After that, Sukren and Aan went to the wall nursery together every night, her to hold her baby boy while he slept, him to write to Mayah. By the end of his ninth diurnal in Lost Technology Castle, Sukren was ready to be done. He didn’t know how Aan did it, night after night, but Sukren couldn’t take it anymore. “I sleep while I hold him,” she explained when Sukren asked what her secret was. “I couldn’t stay up every night, writing or whatever it is you do.”

Whatever it is I do, indeed. Sukren was so tired that sometimes he couldn’t even remember. Write to Mayah, that was all he could hold onto, and then, after nine diurnals, meet the Eenta soldiers at the end of first nightsleep.

And right now, Sukren told himself, that means going up the lift, it means telling Aan that she should go on ahead back to the barracks alone because you have something else to do.

Aan looked concerned. “It’s almost darkwake. If you’re not back by the time Helt wakes up, he’ll be angry.”

Sukren mustered up a smile. He tried to think of something to say but couldn’t. Aan stood in the hallway just outside the lift and looked at him through the hexagonal gaps of the grate. Suddenly she nodded. “I understand. May the Lost Princess watch over you. I hope I see you again someday.”

“Goodbye,” Sukren whispered. He didn’t know what conclusion she had come to, but whatever it was, it was probably close enough to the truth. He watched her go, then closed his eyes, half-dozing as the lift went up, up, up, and then he was walking across and around a series of dorm clusters to the elevator on the other side of the castle. After another ride up, Sukren exited the elevator onto the cable car docking bay. An enlarged balcony, that was what it really was, with enough space for a clear bioplastic terminal in its middle. Walking forward through the night air, Sukren could see Zed and his partner waiting for him on the far side of the terminal’s rotating wheel.

Sukren opened the terminal door. With the windows all open, it was just as cold inside as it was outside the bioplastic walls, but Sukren didn’t mind. The cold air was waking him up, giving him back his mind, which he needed.

“You have the notebook?” Zed called out.

Sukren walked closer to them before answering. Nobody was inside the terminal except for a servie drafted to watch over the cable car during the nightsleep shift, but he was asleep in a corner, and Sukren didn’t want to wake him up. “I’m coming with you.”

“What do you mean?” the other soldier asked.

“I’m done here,” Sukren said. He spoke with more confidence than he felt, as trained to by Lady Nari. Although he doubted she’d expected him to use it to buck her orders. “If you don’t take me with you, I’m going to apply to transfer to another squad, and that’ll draw attention the Free Serfs don’t need.”

Zed’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t do that.”

“If I’m really a servie, yes, I can. If I’m not really a servie, then you’re listening to me.”

“You would do that?” Zed’s partner spoke up. He sounded shocked, as if Sukren were personally letting him down. “You would put the Uprising at risk? Just because you don’t like being a servie?”

Well, Sukren didn’t like being a servie, but that wasn’t why he was making this move. Aan’s voice floated back to him. And she gets to keep her children? Sukren had nodded. He’d gone back with her night after night and seen how much she sacrificed to care for her son. Not once had Aan given up, no matter how hard it was to make sure her baby boy got the best she could give him.

And neither would Sukren.

“I’m sure Lady Nari considered this contingency,” Sukren replied. “She knows me. She knows I wouldn’t want to stay. I’ve done my part. I’ve written the journal. It’s time for me to go. I’m not going to stay. I’m going to transfer out.”

Sukren was repeating himself. The sleepless nights had more than caught up to him. All he had left was his determination to get out of LakeCentral Castle – to keep knocking on every door in his way – to push and pressure and persevere – until Lady Nari decided it was necessary, after all, for him to see Mayah again. He was not going to let this notebook, filled with half-truths, be the last thing Mayah had from him. He was also not going to wait for the Uprising in a servie barracks.

“We could take him to that village, in Woodheart,” Zed’s partner said. Zed glared at him. “What? We could.”

Zed turned his glare on Sukren. Despite his exhaustion, Sukren found himself able to wonder again why Zed was so hostile. Was he still upset that Lady Nari had appointed Sukren, a Chenta, to the guardianship of the Promised Daughter? Oh Sarana, Sukren was tired, he was tired, he needed to sleep, if he didn’t get out of LakeCentral now, he would spend the rest of his time thinking of nothing but sleep and he couldn’t let that happen, come on, wake up, think, get yourself out, go!

“We’ll have to talk to Lady Nari first,” Zed said.

Sukren shook his head.

From the way Zed was looking at him, it was clear he expected Sukren to say something more, but Sukren had no more mind left. He stood there, silent, waiting. To his faint surprise, it was Zed who gestured for Sukren to follow him to the end of the terminal, where the cable cars slowed down enough in their rotation for passengers to get on.

“We should show our papers to the attendant,” Zed’s partner said, hurrying to catch up with Zed who was already halfway down the terminal.

Sukren shook his head again, too tired even to feel relief. “Let him sleep.”