Chapter 72:

When the rope was tossed down the chute into the castra-dome, nobody moved. Ropes only came down to pick up visitors after their food drops. A serf had tried to escape once by shoving a visitor aside and grabbing the cord, but the guard waiting at the top had cut it, foiling his attempt.

Sukren could tell that even the hunters were confused. One of them moved towards the chute and touched the end of the rope. He looked back at the hunters and said something in Cursed. Pratap stepped forward and replied.

Rajani translated for Sukren. “He’s asking if he should go up, and Pratap’s saying yes.”

Sukren barely had the strength to nod. Kebet had visited a few days ago to do a food drop, but it had been three diurnals since Rajani had joined him in the castra-dome, which meant it had been eight diurnals since he’d been imprisoned. More and more serfs were walking out into the az hedges to die. If things didn’t change soon…

Leaning with both hands against one of the rain barrels, Sukren watched the hunter climb up and out of the castra-dome. The rope helped keep him from sliding back down the rain-slick chute. Another hunter crossed to the bottom of the slide. He angled his head to look up at the climbing hunter. Then he frowned. He turned and said something to Pratap.

“What’s going on?” Sukren heard one of the serfs near him say. “Sukren, get your mutineer friend to tell us what’s going on.”

Sukren ignored him. Wasn’t the confusion on Rajani’s face clear? She didn’t know any better than they did what was going on.

“Hey.” The serf shoved Sukren from behind. “Ask her what’s going on.”

“Something’s wrong,” Rajani said suddenly to Sukren in Xhom. Her voice was tense. Sukren heard the other Xhom speakers in the castra-dome pick up on and translate Rajani’s words. “He should have come back by now.”

Sukren watched as another hunter went up the chute. He, too, disappeared over the top, and did not return. The mood among the castra-dome dwellers began changing. Sukren could feel their hope stirring up. Even Sukren began to wonder whether this was it, whether he was done starving in this hole, whether he would be freed…

“Everyone out,” Pratap announced in Xhom. His accent was not good, but his words were punctuated by the knife he drew from his belt.

The serfs began shuffling forward, pulling closer together. “I’ll be right back,” Rajani told Sukren. She went to join the cluster of hunters. From her gestures and volume, it seemed like she was arguing with Pratap. Pratap responded by shoving past her.

Irritation written all over her face, Rajani returned to Sukren, who’d slipped to the middle of the crowd. Those up front began climbing, one at a time, up the chute. Some of the less hopeful were lurking in the back. “It’s a trick, I bet,” Sukren heard someone mutter. “They’re luring us up to kill us, one by one.”

“Do you think that’s true?” Sukren asked Rajani in low tones, after translating what the serf had said. “Do you think this is a trick?”

“No,” Rajani said. “This isn’t how we do things. This feels… not Cursed.”

Before Sukren had a chance to ask Rajani what she meant, it became his turn to climb up the chute. His eagerness to get out of the castra-dome lent him energy. Hand over hand he went, Rajani behind him. As soon as Sukren pulled himself up and over the lip of the slide, however, he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and yanked to the side of the scaffold. Before he knew it, a slip noose was drawing tight around his wrists.

“Hey!” Sukren shouted. “What –”

“If it isn’t Sukren Kanari.”

Terror shot through Sukren at the sound of his patron name. Frantic, he looked wildly around the platform. It was filled with Xhota serfs in strange new uniforms. The man holding Sukren by his shirt was Xhota as well. Other Xhota were herding serfs down the rope bridge back to the bio-dome. So far only Sukren, and a few female serfs huddled together at the southeastern corner of the scaffold, had been pulled aside.

A moment later Rajani too was dragged to the southeastern corner. “Sukren!” she screamed. A Xhota serf silenced her with a blow to her mouth.

Sukren’s heart was pounding. He tried to breathe, tried to keep calm. The Xhota man holding his shirt was pulling him to the southwestern corner, where the scaffold nestled into the mountain’s face. Was there a way to escape from him? Could he –

Sukren froze. There was smoke in the air. It was coming from the bio-dome. From the Cursed urb.

Mayah!

The Xhota man’s back was turned. He had returned to herding the serfs emerging from the castra-dome. Sukren exchanged a glance with Rajani. The Xhota hadn’t bothered to tie her hands. If she and Sukren timed this right…

Rajani held up three fingers. Sukren readied himself. Three, two, one –

Sukren rushed for the man who had tied his hands. He shoved him backwards into another Xhota. He could see Rajani out of the corner of his eye tussling with someone for a weapon. Two of the women Rajani had been placed with joined the fray. Glad for the support, Sukren turned his full attention on the Xhota in front of him. Using all his weight, Sukren shoved him again. This time the man was ready. He grabbed the rope tied around Sukren’s wrists and used Sukren’s own momentum to drag him forward.

Together they stumbled towards the edge of the platform. Someone had drawn the breathflower curtains back, making the land beneath visible. The drop was high enough to cripple anyone who fell; the az hedges would finish the job. As Sukren and the man grappled for the upper hand, it became clear to Sukren that despite his hunger-induced weakness, he had the advantage. The man didn’t want to kill Sukren. He wanted to take Sukren prisoner. Sukren, on the other hand, had no such limitations.

If I could just loosen his grip on my bonds…

Sukren kicked at the man’s shins. The man jumped backwards, almost letting go. They were right along the platform’s edge, when something on the ground caught Sukren’s eye. It was a body. The body of a dead hunter.

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A moment passed, that was all, but it was a moment too long. The man used Sukren’s distraction as an opportunity to pull out the serf prod hanging from his belt. His fingers still entwined around Sukren’s bonds, the man drove Sukren back to the southwestern corner of the scaffold. Each blow of the prod sent electricity cascading through Sukren’s body. Not again, he cried out silently as he struggled against his stiffening muscles. Not again!

A woman was wailing somewhere out on the platform. Hoping it wasn’t Rajani, Sukren tried to turn his head to find her. His drooping eyes landed instead on the other Xhota still ushering the castra-dome dwellers out and across the rope bridge. A hunter – Pratap – was at the crest of the slide. Sukren saw his eyes widen as he took in the chaos on the scaffold. Then two Xhota grabbed him, one by each arm, and without ceremony, shoved him over the edge of the platform down to the az hedge field below.

Meanwhile Sukren was being pushed into a sitting position. The limestone shell platform shook with the footsteps of the freed castra-dome dwellers, but Sukren himself was immobilized. When the Xhota man began tying his ankles together, he could do nothing, not even keep his eyes open. Slouched against the mountain’s face behind him, Sukren tried to draw his thoughts together. What were Xhota doing on the Cursed side of the shelterbelt? Who was the Xhota man? How did he know Sukren?

Had they come because of Mayah?

Sukren tried to take a deep breath. He managed a shallow gasp. There was nothing he could do but wait. Wait, wait, wait, his entire body tense with electricity and anxiety, wait, wait, wait…

After what felt like a long time, the noise all around him began to grow quieter. Some feeling was starting to come back into his wrists, sending pain washing through his nerves. He found he could open his eyes. Rajani was gone. There were no Gather’s Children and only a few Xhota left on the scaffold, including the man who had called Sukren by name. When he saw Sukren’s eyes were open, he came by and squatted next to him.

“I didn’t think you’d make so much trouble,” the man said, his voice low. “All your files said your temperament was mild. Then again, you did make off with her. Nothing in your files suggested that.”

Sukren said nothing.

“So where is she?”

Despite his discomfort, Sukren couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You think I’m going to answer your questions without knowing who you are?”

The man got to his feet. He shoved the end of his serf prod into Sukren’s face. “Yes, you will.”

Sukren leaned his head against the mountain’s face behind him. The man was standing in front of him, blocking his view, but around to his right Sukren could see pieces of sky through the breathflower vines blowing in the wind. To his left was the rope bridge, with the remaining Xhota clustered around it.

“Did Lady Nari send you?” Sukren asked.

The Xhota man glanced back at his compatriots. Sukren carefully observed the way the man waited until he was sure no one was listening before he turned back to Sukren to say, “Yes, she did.”

“But she didn’t order this attack, did she?”

The man’s face grew cold. “I’m asking the questions, not you. Where is she?”

Sukren studied the man. One of Lady Nari’s Xhota spies, had to be. With enough clout to question a prisoner alone, but still a spy. Still working undercover.

Sukren wondered what would happen if he shouted to the other Xhota that the man was a spy for Lady Nari. He was stopped mid-thought by the edge of a bioplastic knife against his throat. “You disgust me,” the man spat. “Here I thought you had a shard of loyalty left to your patron. That you would talk as long as you knew she sent me.” The knife was sharp against Sukren’s skin. “Now tell me where she is!”

“Ihan,” one of the Xhota called. “We’re heading back to the bio-dome to organize the adults.”

“Go ahead,” the man replied. “I’ll bring this one over later.”

One by one the Xhota crossed the rope bridge, leaving Sukren and Ihan alone. When the last Xhota was gone, Ihan grinned. He tapped the prod against Sukren’s ear, sending electricity buzzing down Sukren’s neck. “So, where is she?”

It was only then that Sukren realized what Ihan’s question meant. “She’s not in the urb?”

“What do you mean?”

“She should be in the Cursed urb,” Sukren said, his heart starting to race. “Did one of your Xhota kill her?”

“No, no, they’re under strict orders not to kill any females with Saranai blood. Especially young females. They wouldn’t have killed her.”

Sukren’s brow furrowed. If Mayah wasn’t in the urb, where was she?

Without warning, the knife was once more tight against Sukren’s throat. “No more tricks. No more lying. Tell me the truth.”

“I am,” Sukren replied, struggling to think. Had one of the Xhota confused her for a Cursed citizen? No, Mayah wore a village suit. That alone easily would’ve marked her as Saranai.

“You’re lying,” the man replied.

“Go check,” Sukren said. “Please, go check. Make sure she’s there. Make sure she wasn’t killed.”

“I already did.”

“Then where is she?”

Ihan pulled the knife back. “I heard you were good. I didn’t think you were this good.”

Sukren barely heard him. All his thoughts were focused on Mayah. Where was she? Where could she be? She had to be okay. She had to be. She –

“Let’s try it this way,” Ihan said. He placed the heel of his hand on Sukren’s forehead, pinning his head against the rock behind him. “The next words out of your mouth had better be a location. Where is she?”

Panic flared up inside Sukren. “I was arrested weeks ago – I left her in the urb – she should be there!”

The knife flashed up. Before Sukren could react, before Sukren could even take a breath, Ihan had pierced his right eye.

Pain like Sukren had never experienced before ripped through him. It overwhelmed his senses, almost shutting them down. He was panting, his lungs taking in great shuddering gasps of air. There was the sound of someone screaming – was that him?

“Where is she?”

A moan escaped Sukren’s lips.

“Come on, Sukren. She’s just a princess. She’s not worth both your eyes.”

Both Sukren’s eyes?!

“I don’t know!” Sukren cried out. “I swear to you, I don’t know!”

Even as the words left his mouth, Sukren knew it was the wrong answer. The knife came down again, this time into his left eye. Sukren screamed once more. He could feel blood running down his face like tears. The rock wall behind Sukren was boring into his skull. The scaffold around him smelled like sap and breathflowers and blood. Sukren found himself choking on the sweet sick stench. Everything – sun – sky – scaffold – Ihan – was black.