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7. Lucky Number Seven
It was past midnight. The main hall was quiet and dark, for the fire had nearly gone out. A lone figure streaked past the dying embers in the hearth. A sliver of moonlight caught on his face.
Jack swished his mustache and ran on. He'd left his armor in the dormitory and wore only his long underwear, which would allow him to keep quiet if not warm, and padded past the fireplace on bare feet. He shouldn't have been out of bed this late, but a promise was a promise. He hadn't forgotten his duty to thank Seven, the healer who helped him in the first place.
Jack hurried down the same stone staircase. The basement was blacker than pitch, as it had been earlier that evening, but this time Ari was not here and he had to settle for stumbling down blindly. When he finally reached the bottom, his hand brushed something on the wall. He backed up and touched it again. The bottom was hard and he gripped it easily. The top was fluffy. A torch.
Pulling a pilfered match from a pocket on his chest, he struck it on the wall and lit the fluff. The torch burst into flame, illuminating the earthen halls of Tarrenko's underbelly. Jack took the torch off the rack and wandered down the musty earthen corridor. There, to his left, was the same cell as before.
He shone the torch between the bars, catching a whole load of sleeping cloaks in the light, and then hung it on a post behind him. He tapped on the metal bars. A husky voice beyond them answered his noise immediately, if not coherently.
"Hnnyuh?"
"Excuse me, but I am looking for the healer called Seven," Jack said. "Where is Seven?"
A healer shuffled forward, into the light of his torch, head bent. One blue scaly hand peeked out as it gripped one of the bars.
"Shh. Not so loud, soldier. Over this way. She had to repair some major injuries two days ago and she's recovering her strength. What do you want?"
"Please. Forgive my loud voice. I am looking for Seven. I want to express my gratitude. From what I understand, she saved my life. May I speak to her?"
"A Goon soldier expressing gratitude? Now I've heard everything. All right kid, hold on."
The healer retreated into the darkness of the cell and momentarily another one was at the bars, head bent like the first.
"Yes?" said the healer in a husky alto voice, accompanied by a yawn.
"Are you Seven?" Jack asked.
Jack expected a reasonable response: a nod, or some verbal affirmation. The healer did neither. She gripped the bars hard with both hands – tawny, human hands, Jack noticed – and was stiff and silent. There was a tense pause.
"Great Gaia. Say that again," she demanded quietly, sounding very awake now. Her voice trembled. "Say anything."
Jack blinked, confused by her request, but obliged her just the same. "I was wounded, and I believe you took care of me. I wanted to thank you."
The healer white-knuckled the bars, but still did not look up, as though bracing herself for a disappointment.
"J-Jack?" The quiet word was almost a sob. "Oh, please, you h-have to be him. Tell me you're h-him."
That voice. She'd strung enough words together, and Jack realized he knew that voice. One tanned hand was stretching between the bars, reaching for him. He took the first hand, and then the second, and soon found himself in an embrace.
Everything came back like a lightning flash.
The road …
The rising sun …
The wind in her hair …
"Sankra?" he breathed, bringing his arms around her.
"You came back," she whispered, and she was openly crying now. "You came back to me."
They stood there, silently embracing through the bars, for what felt like ages. It took both of them a little while to calm down.
"Why do you hide under this cloak?" he asked finally.
"Regulations."
Jack would have none of that. He gently pulled the hood away from her face. She looked tired, but exactly as he remembered her, from her little nose, to her round cheeks and long black hair, to her big eyes, which were closed. She immediately turned her face away.
He was puzzled. "Sankra, I am here. Will you not look at me?"
"I can't. You'll leave."
"Nonsense," he said. "Please."
So she turned towards him and lifted her long black lashes. He gasped. Her eyes, once beautiful glittering orbs of amber set in her tanned face, were lifeless and milky. Useless.
It was a minute before he found his voice. "What happened to you?"
"The Empire happened," Sankra said in a flat, miserable voice. "They tromped into our village just before dawn … torched all the houses and took everyone prisoner. When they learned I was a healer they figured I could be useful, and they didn't want me to escape, so they blinded me. I saw a staff, and a purple light… Everyone in this cell had it done to them. We're all sightless."
"That is terrible. But no one in your village was killed, correct?"
"I don't know," she said, breaking the embrace but keeping one of his hands in hers. "I don't know what's become of anyone. That's the worst part, I think. At least Uta didn't live to see any of this."
Jack sighed in agreement. "Sankra, you saved my life. And I do not know precisely what is happening here, but it is evil and I must try to stop it. I will free you. I will free everyone I can."
"What's this about freedom?" said the blue scaly healer, coming forward. "Who are you, young man?"
"Call me Kit," Jack said. "Kit Renakalli. I must go. Goodnight."
Reluctantly he pulled away from Sankra, blew out the torch, and ran up the stairs, his mind churning. The hell with tomorrow's mission – he had more important things to think about.
The healers didn't sleep a wink all night. They were too busy haranguing Sankra and insisting she tell them who this "Kit" guy was. Finally, she relented and explained, on the condition that they tell no one else. They were stunned.
"Samurai Jack!" hissed one cloak. "Here! To challenge the Gunzai empire! That man is the gutsiest creature I've ever seen!" She paused for a moment. "Or not seen, I guess."
Everyone else groaned.
Jack was tiptoeing by the fireplace one last time, heading for the dormitory, when the air suddenly stank of musk. He dropped to a crouch and was utterly still. There was a noise, then, a click click click of nails or claws on the stone floor. His first thought was that it was Ari, but Ari didn't smell like badly cured meat.
A figure came out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Jack's heart, which had shot into his throat a few seconds ago, nosedived into his belly and beat there ferociously. It was Yazzi. She was dressed in a white robe. The moonlight hit her face and gleamed on her fur as she growled and sniffed the air.
"Come out, human!" she snarled, facing the window. "I know you're here. I can smell you! Where are you?"
Jack made no sound, determined to escape detection. He stepped gingerly across the rug, keeping his eyes on Yazzi, and moved towards what he thought was the door beyond the hearth. Instead he sidestepped the wrong way, and whacked into a suit of armor that was hanging on the wall.
The suit tumbled to the floor with a ruckus that could have woken every soul in the place. Strategy was forgotten; Jack bolted for the doorway. He wasn't fast enough, though. Yazzi was in front of the doorway with almost super-human speed, blocking it off with her muscular, furry body, and growling in Jack's face.
Jack did not have his sword. He backed off, set his jaw, and glared at her.
"What are you doing here, human?" Yazzi asked, moving into the room and stalking towards Jack with a delicate strut that was almost predatory.
Jack kept backing away. He wasn't very happy about having to explain himself to a 'talking demon dog.' "I was seeing a friend, General," he said.
"Did my orders somehow change without my knowledge, Renakalli? You were not to leave the dormitory. You disobeyed. But I like you, so you will not be punished in the usual fashion. Indeed, after the first few times, you might even grow to like it."
Something in her voice made the hairs on the back of Jack's neck stand up. He kept his face absolutely still, though. He was weaponless and Yazzi was almost circling him. She clapped her hands once, and out of nowhere, two bearded guards appeared. They wore minimal armor over their underwear and no helmets, but each carried a wicked-looking spear.
"Take him to my bed chamber," she commanded them, and pointed at Jack.
Jack ran.
It was not a courageous choice, but it turned out to be imminently practical; Yazzi's order had been no empty threat. He shot off down a stone passage, the two guards hot on his heels, looking for anything he could use to defend himself. He settled for a huge torch. Skidding to a halt and whirling around, he streaked the torch right past the guards' faces, in an effort to scare them away. They both backed up and then ran from him, screaming bloody murder.
Jack had accidentally set their beards on fire.
Yazzi was not pleased. She pursued Jack herself. But Jack saw her move and was off like a shot. The light of his torch streaked out behind him as he ran. And ran. And ran some more. After an eternity of jogging along, he was beyond lost in the catacombs of the maids' quarters.
Unt-Ork blinked at the ceiling. She was wired, lonely, and unable to sleep. The visions were coming hard and fast tonight, in-between paralyzing memories of her rocky, gray home and friends she knew she would never see again. Unt-Ork hated the long days and the oppressive work and the threat of the Wall. But mostly she hated the night, because she bunked with Ari and Ari had a tendency to shout and cry when she dreamed of bad things. Worse, Ari dreamed a lot. A wailing mew rose up from the bunk beneath her and she pulled her thin, filthy pillow over her head, covering her small ear holes.
Ari gasped and sniffed and mumbled "No!" a few times. And then…
"ANOOK!"
Even with the pillow protecting her ears, Unt-Ork twitched at the explosion of sound. She sat up and waited for it to continue.
Ari sat up with a start and another "NO!" and took a big gulp of air, like she was choking.
"No!"
There were squeaks and shifting covers as she brought her furry legs up and grabbed her shins. And then there was the sound that Unt-Ork hated most in the world: the hollow sound of wet sobs being coughed into that warm, quiet, private place between chest and knees.
Anook.
Ari's worst dreams were always about her husband. She had no idea where he'd ended up. In her worst dreams she always saw him dead – hung, crucified, beheaded, gutted, dismembered – and Unt-Ork couldn't help but see it too. Her gift for understanding people's minds had become a curse in this horrible place. Tears dribbled out of her obsidian eyes and plopped onto her dirty sleep clothes. She wasn't sure if they came out of sympathy or exhaustion or helpless rage, but Ari was the strongest person she had ever met and it terrified her when Ari cried.
Ari kept weeping. So the little gray alien dragged her pillow across her face to clean up, clambered off her bed, and went down to join her fellow prisoner. The two sat in silence for a while. Ari sniffed and wiped her face with her paws and calmed down. In a few minutes it was as though no one had yelled out anything, like the dream had never been. Ari collected herself. She even managed a small smile for Unt-Ork. The alien smiled back. It was pointless to try and sleep, so she was about to suggest they stand at their tiny window and wait for sunrise.
That was when they heard it: panting outside their door. They looked at each other.
"Don't move," Ari commanded, sounding strong and sure as usual.
Unt-Ork nodded, fearful. At this time of night there shouldn't have been anyone wandering around the maids' quarters – at least, not anyone who was supposed to be there. The cat-woman went for the door.
Jack was cold and out of breath. On the plus side, Yazzi was nowhere nearby. He hoped she'd given up the chase. Exhausted, he gasped for air and leaned against a wall, still holding the torch. A door opened directly across from him and Ari poked her head out. She didn't waste time looking surprised. Instead, she knocked the torch from his hand. It extinguished itself on the damp floor, leaving the hallway in darkness.
Then she dragged a very confused, still panting Jack into her room and closed the door. Jack instinctively wrapped his arms around himself. It was a tiny, squalid, freezing space, with nothing more than a bunk-bed and a chest of drawers. Unt-Ork peeped delightedly at Jack and waved. Jack smiled at her and turned to Ari. His smile quickly disappeared; she was glaring at him, holding up a small candle for light.
"Let's have it, genius. What did you do?"
"I went to visit Sa … Seven, and General Digger caught me on the way back," Jack said. "She intended something … shameful as my punishment."
"High Hooleeti," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Jack…"
"Kip."
She eyed him. "Whatever. Yazzi Digger is a demigod around here. She does what she wants. She's had her way with half of troop 50! And that includes you, now."
If this information bothered Jack, he didn't show it. "Indeed. Well, as long as I am here, I think now is an appropriate time."
"Pardon?"
"I need to know what is happening here, Ari. Will you tell me?"
The pause was big enough for a horse to fall in. Ari was still a bit upset and bleary-eyed and looking at another long day tomorrow. She threw a quick look at Unt-Ork. The kid needed her rest, too. This was hardly the time for stories. But there probably wouldn't be another opportunity, and Jack needed his questions answered. She sighed and politely motioned at the low chest of drawers.
Unt-Ork grabbed her blanket from the top bunk and sat back down beside Ari on the bottom. Ari threw a ragged blanket around her shoulders like a shawl, and passed another one to her guest.
"Have a seat," she said.
TBC