Chapter 15: Learning the Truth
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Zadina hadn't mentioned where there were going, and Zeel had decided not to ask. The queen had seemed excited to surprise her with something, and it had been best to let her have that. A pair of guards had trailed behind them at a respectful distance, completely blank faced and silent. Zeel had expected before that her own maids would accompany her everywhere she went in the palace, and that Zalben would even join them from time to time. She had been surprised when a pair of guards she hadn't known had come to collect her, and had escorted her away alone. She hadn't been sure when they had traded places with the guards with them now, but the men stalking behind her certainly weren't the men she had met that morning.
It had seemed like everything kept changing around her. It had been impossible to keep track of anything. This had been slightly disheartening, and overwhelmingly disorienting. If only she could have seen something she recognized, something she was familiar with, Zeel would have felt far more at ease. She had wished desperately that Nia had been with her; she had liked and trusted the woman, for all her firmness. And she would have trusted Zalben to guard her much better than the unnamed men behind her. Their presence would have been a great comfort; without them, Zeel had felt terribly alone.
Which is how the queen has planned it, no doubt, she had thought. She is probably the one who took my things, too. She would like to see me cut off from my old life, suspicious of the people around me, and unsure of myself. She would like me to forget my past, and who I am—for without a history, what knowledge do I even have of myself? Then she would be the one to save me, give me direction and purpose; she would appear beside me as a solid place, as a person I could trust. And I would be beholden to her.
It had seemed a complicated idea, but Zeel had known it was true. After all, the Titans of Fire had used the same trick on other people in the past. They had enslaved a whole race of people, and robbed them of their history. Without knowledge of who they were, the people of the Valley of Gold had been lost, adrift in the sea of time. Every idea of their real purpose had been drilled out of them until they had been no more than a band of unwilling servants, and only their captors had known the truth.
And even now, Zadina had continued using that old trick on her own people—from the men and women of Central Control, to the people being forced to work in the fields, to Zeel herself. Their identities had been taken away from them, to be replaced by whatever suited someone else.
But I will not let that happen to me, Zeel had thought defiantly. I will not forget who I am, and where I have been. I'm afraid I will simply have to die first.
For she had worried that this was exactly what was about to happen.
Zadina had led her to a grand pair of double doors, chatting all the way, as it had seemed she tended to do. The two guards had marched forward to open the doors, without being told to. And so the queen had ushered Zeel into an enormous, high-ceilinged room, it's every wall packed with books. Zeel hadn't been aware that so many books had existed in the world, and the sight had stunned her a bit. She hadn't been able to help thinking of her husband and daughter. They would have been half mad with excitement over such a sight.
"It is only the smaller of our two libraries," the queen had said carelessly. "But modesty is a virtue, I suppose. Oh, do remind me to show you the larger one sometime. If this impresses you, you will simply love it."
Zeel had continued to stare at the vastness of the library, her jaw dropping slightly at the idea that there was a bigger library somewhere in the palace, with more books than this one. Meanwhile, the queen had looked over her shoulder, toward the guards outside the doors.
"Leave us for a moment," she had called to them.
The guards had wordlessly nodded in understanding and shut the great doors. They had closed with something of a thud, their hinges creaking a bit under their weight. Zeel had been completely alone with the Dragon Queen.
She had been startled from her wonderment by the queen placing a hand on her shoulder, and watching her with concern.
"My dear, are you well?" Zadina had asked. "You seem alarmed. Ah, but of course, you've probably never seen so many books in your life—that is, of you have ever seen books at all! Forgive me for surprising you, the thought hadn't occurred to me."
Zadina had turned and walked off without waiting for an answer, prompting Zeel to follow her.
"I'm actually quite fond of books," she had said, as if she were still unoffended by the queen's comments. "Everyone in Rin is taught to read and write, and everyone owns at least a few books. Just… Not as many as this."
Zadina had glanced back at her, looking a bit surprised. "Hm. How interesting. My grandfather underestimated them, then."
The queen had continued leading the way through the great room, until she had reached a side door.
"Please, come into my study," she had said, graciously standing aside for Zeel. "I affectionately called it the butterfly room. For its smallness, it is one of my very favorite places in the whole palace. I do hope you like it."
"Why do you call it the butterfly room?" Zeel had asked as she had stepped inside. But she hadn't needed an answer, for she saw it at once. The walls had been covered with framed glass cases, with butterflies pinned neatly to boards inside them. Some cases had only contained single specimens, labeled in flowing script. Others had been filled with the winged creatures, arranged by size and color into beautiful, artistic designs.
Each case had been a work of art, but Zeel had felt a sense of dread about it. Recalling that her spirit animal happened to be a butterfly, she had begun to wonder if Zadina had led her here just to make her uncomfortable.
"I have specimens here from all over the world," Zadina had commented, gesturing around her, and pointing to different cases in turn. "This one was brought back from that wretched Plains War, a rare find, indeed. Oh, and this one came to us from a land called Vaious. This one came to us from the western coast of Deltora, only a few day's voyage south; it is called Zara's Glory, after their first queen, I'm told."
As she had gone on lovingly pointing out her favorites, Zadina had moved toward a desk in the room's corner, where a stack of papers had been arranged. The queen had picked up a few of those papers and shuffled through them briefly, as if looking for something.
"Why so silent, Zeel?" she had asked. "Don't you find my collection to be impressive?"
"Oh, yes, of course I'm impressed," Zeel had stammered back. "Impressed… And slightly disturbed…"
"Well, I have something here that might just cheer you up. Come and see, my dear."
Zeel had doubted that very much, but had come to see what the queen had prepared for her. On the desk, Zadina had set out a few of her stacked papers to be seen properly. They were all very official-looking documents, stamped with what must have been the royal seal. To her surprise, she had seen that her own name was clearly printed somewhere on each of them.
"What are these?" she had demanded. Pleased by her reaction, the queen had smiled and picked up the first document.
"This is who you are," Zadina had answered. "Here, listen to this. 'On this, the seventh day of the third month, second class officer Zachary Moakel is hereby promised in marriage to lady Nira Ferren, for the benefit of Zorn, the Dragon King (may his reign last a thousand years).'"
"I don't understand."
"Let's look at a different form, then," Zadina had continued, replacing that document and picking up the next one. "'On this, the fourteenth day of the seventh month, the child Zeel Moakel is born by first class officer Zachary Moakel and Nira Moakel. This child is hereby pledged by the father's blood to the service of Zorn, the Dragon King (may his reign last a thousand years).'"
Zeel had gasped, and had braced one hand against the desk to keep herself from falling over. Her heart had begun to pound furiously. So many questions she had carried all her life had suddenly been answered. All at once, she had found the names of her parents. She had learned who they had been. She had learned her birthday.
She had learned that her father had been of Central Control. That meant that she, too, had belonged to it all along.
Zadina had seemed to ignore her start, and had gone on staring thoughtfully at the birth certificate in her hand. "How do you like that?" she had mused. "Somewhere between his wedding and your birth, he had been promoted. If you are truly anything like your father, you must be very talented. Oh, but here was what I really wanted you to see. Look here, in the corner of the form."
She had turned the paper so that Zeel had seen it properly for the first time. In the corner of the form there had been several symbols. There had been a notary, the royal seal, and a circular shape which had seemed to be a coiled, serpentine dragon. Zadina had tapped this last symbol with interest.
"You see this? This was the emblem of one of my grandfather's little projects," she had explained. "He'd come up with this idea to match his strongest, fiercest soldiers with his brightest, most beautiful subjects, in an effort to build an army of supposedly perfect warriors. And grandfather was so pleased with the results, he decided to keep matching these perfect people together, over and over again, until this supposedly perfect army really was perfect. It's a bit brilliant, isn't it?"
Zeel had been silent, still struggling to absorb all this knowledge. Also, the idea of this program had been awful to her. But the queen had gotten herself excited, and had gone chattering on.
"It turns out that your father was one of the first glorious results of all this, part of the first batch that pleased my grandfather so well. A bit of research shows us that he grew to be exceptionally tall and strong, and quite handsome, as had been hoped. He was everything that Central Control ought to represent. Your mother was born a peasant, and otherwise unremarkable; but she excelled in academics as a girl, and was highly intelligent by some trick of destiny. The two were pared in the hopes that their children might not be merely strong and beautiful, but clever and quick thinking, also. And it certainly seems to have worked marvelously. How else have you survived in the west for so long?"
Zeel had wanted to snap back that she had survived by the kindness of strangers, and the love of good friends, and that the late Dragon King had had nothing to do with any of it. But she had wisely held her tongue, because Zadina had calmed herself and moved on to the next form she had picked out. Quite suddenly, she had grown grave, and frowned at the document in disapproval.
"It was all going so well for them. They were already partly perfect, and had borne a nearly perfect child. Your father had been promoted to the top ranks of our military, and held a considerable amount of power. Your mother had gone from being a nameless, faceless peasant with no future, to the wife of a great leader, and had only just become a mother—the mother of another great leader, I'm sure. And then they just… Threw it all away."
Zadina had scoffed and rolled her eyes in disgust. "Many of them did, in those days. And so many of them got away with it, too. They just hopped into stolen ships and sailed away, never to be seen or heard from again. Who even knows where they went, or what became of them? It was a travesty, and of course grandfather would not tolerate it. Unfortunately, your parents were two of the last to attempt escape. We had locked the port down considerably by then, but they managed to somehow slip through the cracks. Of course, we quickly put a stop to that. A band of loyal men was sent to track them down. Sadly, this last form is a death certificate. No one on that ship was left alive."
The news had felt like a blow to Zeel, and the coldness it had been given in had only made it worse.
"Oh," she had said blankly, staring down at the floor. "I had always hoped…"
Zadina had planted her hand on her hip and scanned the certificate with disinterest. "There are arrest warrants in my findings, and also warrants to seize stolen property—that being you, obviously. Apparently, your father was cut down on sight; but your mother flung herself overboard before she could be caught, and carried you with her. Both of you were assumed lost, of course. A written statement from the leader claims that he had never seen something so foolish and brave. He writes that he saw fire in her eyes that night. He was moved by her defiance, and simply had to respect her for that, and that the whole affair was a pity. Perhaps this comforts you?"
It had hurt terribly to have her worst fears confirmed, but Zeel had nodded bravely. Her parents really had given their lives, in the hopes that their only child might someday breathe free air, as they never had. And their dying wish had been granted. Knowing their story at last, and knowing their courage and love for her had, indeed, brought her comfort.
Zadina had placed the death certificate back and the desk, and sidled around to sit in the chair behind it.
"I can only guess at what you must be feeling now," she had said, her pretended concern returning. "You have probably spent a long time wondering at what happened to them, and to you. Learning the truth must be rattling."
"Yes, a little."
"Hm. Tell me, Zeel, have you children of your own?"
Zeel had been overwhelmingly glad that Nia had prepared her for this. She had suspected that she would be asked, eventually; and she had already planned what she would say.
"No, I'm afraid I don't," she had answered forlornly. "We had always wanted a family, but learned quickly that I am unable to carry children. I did conceived once, a very long time ago, now… But that child never came into the world. Losing our child before its birth wounded us, and so we agreed never to try or even hope again. It was a terrible time for us."
The queen had looked sincerely apologetic. And she very likely had been quite sorry, for a number of her own reasons. One of the supposedly perfectly bred soldiers had been defective, after all. She seemed to have believed the lie.
Not quite a lie, Zeel had told herself. She had placed her hand on her belly, truly remembering and truly hurting. I do like to think of that child as Justice—something Rowan and I deserve to know, but can never seem to really find. That story is completely true, and the sadness the queen sees in my face is real.
But Justice is not the whole truth; and if Zadina doesn't see that, then there is no reason to mention it. She need never know of Star. And she need never know of you, little one.
For the hand on her belly had not been only in pained remembrance, but in promise to the life growing steadily inside her. Zeel had been aware of it for only two weeks, and she had been aware of its potential; but she had shown no signs of it yet, and so had told no one about it. She hadn't even told her husband. She had planned to wait until Star came home, and to surprise her whole family with the news when they were together again.
They might never know it now. The thought had crossed her mind several times by now, but she hadn't let it show on her face. To betray her secret now would have been disastrous.
Zadina had leaned forward and steepled her fingers on top of the desk. Then she had taken a deep breath and said, "I see how hard all of this is for you now, my dear. But I hope that you can see from all of this why you are so very precious to us. You were lost, and the loss was great. But now you have been brought back, alive and whole, as we never could have guessed. And you carry something of great value to us all."
Zeel had looked up at the queen with startled eyes. Had she seen through her mask, after all? How had she guessed so easily? Her heart had frozen in fear.
"Knowledge," Zadina had continued, a cunning grin spreading over her face. "You have lived your whole life in the west. You know those people. You know their strengths, their weaknesses, their points of pressure. And they know you, too. If I am correct, you must be dear to them, as well. Never before have we bred such a perfect spy."
So that had been her game. Zeel's heart had begun to race again, and she had backed away, shaking her head.
"No."
Zadina had risen from her chair impatiently, quickly becoming more and more herself, and moved after her.
"Now, now, Zeel, be reasonable. Heaven only knows what those people have made of you, but you are still Zebak. You are one of us, and you belong to me. You always have, whether you have known it or not. Now that you are back where you rightfully belong, it would do you good to serve me willingly. It was what you were born to do. And if you would lend me your knowledge, just imagine how you would be rewarded! You would remain here in the palace, as one of my closest confidants, living a life of pleasure. I wouldn't even force you to serve with Central Control, as you were born to. Why, I wouldn't even force you to be marked as the rest of us are. You have earned that much, my dear—if only you will do as I tell you. Serve and obey me, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. Give me the secrets of the west, and I will have you thinking that I am your slave."
The queen had gone on to look colder and crueler as she spoke. Now that she had come to the point, she had grown tired of her mask. Her patience had nearly reached its end. She had wanted an answer at once—the one she had played so craftily to get. The one she would have killed for.
In spite of all she had had to lose, Zeel had known there to be only answer she could give. She had stood as straight and tall as she could, and glared back at the queen.
"I am not your plaything, and I am not your spy," she had growled. "Betray the people who saved me? I would rather die."
Zadina's face hadn't changed for a long moment. Then she had crossed her arms and shaken her head. "I was afraid you might say that," she had sighed. She had raised her hand and snapped her fingers, as if summoning someone, even though they had been alone.
On cue, the two guards from before had burst into the room without warning. It had been impossible to say when they had crept so silently through the library, but there they had been, all the same, awaiting the order to come and trap her. There had been something odd about their marked faces, so blank and emotionless that they might have been carved of stone. To Zeel, they had seemed to be in a kind of trance.
It is Zadina, she had thought. She has enchanted them.
"Miss Moakel has been given a chance to redeem herself, and has decided instead to betray us, as her father did," Zadina had informed them crossly. "If she wishes so badly to follow in his footsteps, so be it. Seize this traitor. Take her to the dungeons, and make sure that she stays there until her miserable fate is decided."
The guards had stepped forward without hesitation to do their bidding. Knowing that it would do no good to fight them, Zeel had stood still as they had gripped her arms to drag her away. But there had been no need for force. She had already decided that she would go quietly, with dignity and triumph. She had been kidnapped to help bring about the fall of the west; but by sacrificing herself, perhaps she had prevented another war. The queen had seen this in her face, instead of the terror and desperate change of mind she had been hoping for. For a final moment, the two women had gazed at each other in fascinated loathing.
"This, too, is a pity," Zadina had commented dryly. "We really have lost something special, haven't we, now?"
"You've lost nothing. It was never yours to begin with."
"I see. It is just as well, then, that you bore us no children. They would have been unruly and troublesome. Your idiot parents would have been so very proud of you."
"Good. I am proud to be like them."
Zadina had bared her teeth and growled in frustration, and had looked very much like a dragon, indeed. Rowan had spoken of this once, long ago, of how the queen's beautiful face had twisted with glad hatred, and how her beauty had vanished. Zeel had thought of this in the past, glad that she would never have to see it for herself. And yet there she had been, seeing it with her own eyes, and it had wrenched her heart. In her mind, it had been a waste of its own. Zadina had quickly become the ugliest thing she had ever seen.
"Remove this wretched creature from my sight," Zadina had commanded harshly, turning her back on them. "My heart is utterly broken. Let me never look on her again."
Zeel hadn't believed that as she had been escorted out of the library. She had wondered if the queen had even possessed a heart to be broken. But she had kept her wondering to herself, and had simply let the guards haul her through the maze of hallways with her head held high. She had been taken deep into the palace, where the light no longer shone, and only a few well-spaced torches remained to light the way. And in no time at all, she had been shoved into a cell of damp stones with a single barred window and a rough wooden cot in one corner.
"Disgusting," one of the guards had muttered as he had slammed the door of iron bars shut behind her. "She was the Dragon Queen's new favorite. She could have had everything and more. And what does she do, but throw it all away?"
"No one that foolish deserves to live," the other guard had agreed. "No matter what knowledge they carry. It will be refreshing to see the wench burned alive. We'll see how defiant she is, then."
And they had gone away, laughing cruelly to themselves. Zeel had watched them as far as she could through the bars, until their laughter had faded away.
She really had been alone.
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All of that had happened the day before. The night had passed, and now it was early morning; but it was hard to tell, with the rain still pouring, and clouds still covering the city.
Zeel had not passed an agreeable night in the cell. As soon as the guards had left, she had gone scurrying around the whole cell, testing every bar and every stone that seemed to have a weakness. She had run her hands over every inch of the wall and floor, and dug her nails into every possible crack. None of them had provided an answer or a way out.
She had called for help, and even screamed curses in the hope that someone might hear her. She had paced in frustration, pounded her fists on the wall in fury, and eventually broken down and wept in moments of despair. And so that useless cycle had repeated itself for all that afternoon and into the night, for what else had there been for her to do? Then the storm clouds had rolled in, blotting out the sunset, and the rain had begun to fall mercilessly. It had eerily matched her mood, and only made it worse. Sleep had been impossible.
Zeel had no clear idea what time it was, and was beyond caring. She was exhausted, and frightened, and miserable. Death was now absolutely certain, and there was no way of escaping it, this time. All she could really do was to wait. She continued to watch the rain without really seeing it, wondering how much time she had left.
"At least we will be together, at the end," she murmured, touching her belly in grief. "I would spare you this, if only I could. Yet I can't regret this choice; what else was I supposed to do, my dear? My one regret is that your father never knew… No, no, it is better that he never knew of you. It is better that we keep this secret to ourselves. It is all I can do to protect you now."
Another wave of horrible despair was settling over her. Just as she was allowing it to overtake her, she heard footsteps echoing through the dungeon, coming closer and closer. She pushed the despair aside and forced herself to stand straighter.
"So, they have come for me," she said to herself. "Well, let them do what they want to me. They'll have nothing from me but defiance, I swear it."
She hardened her face and turned to the bars, prepared for another squadron to come and take her to her fate. Except she heard right away that there were not many pair of feet coming toward her cell, but one, alone.
Odd…
In a few moments, a man in full uniform did appear at the cell bars, quite alone. In a gesture she hadn't expected in the slightest, he removed his cap and nodded his head respectfully. He looked her directly in the eye, as no other guard had dared before. His face and bright copper eyes seemed very familiar to her somehow.
"Greetings, ma'am" he said in a firm, but cautious voice. "I don't suppose you remember me?"
Hearing the voice that went with his face, Zeel remembered at once. Her already hard face twisted into a scowl.
"Yes, I do," she growled. "You were the man who knocked my husband unconscious! What do you want?" she demanded.
The man flinched, clearly ashamed. "I did do that," he mumbled. "I understand if you are unwilling to speak to me. What I did was unforgivable; what we all did was unforgivable. We didn't like to do it, but we had no other choice, see? They have ways of making us follow orders. Please believe me when I say how sorry we all are."
Zeel was furious again, and wasn't entirely sure now if she did believe that. She continued to glare at him, outraged that he would dare approach her after all the pain he had caused.
Seeing this, the man dug in his pocket and drew out a small leather pouch. "Again, I understand if you refuse to hear me. But at least take this token, as a small comfort, if nothing else."
Zeel raised her eyebrow suspiciously at him. "What is it?"
He held the pouch out to her through the bars. "Take it, and see for yourself, ma'am."
Wishing for him to be gone, Zeel snatched the pouch from him, opened it, and tipped its contents into her hand.
To her amazement and joy, there was her wedding ring and necklace, undamaged and whole. Her hand flew over her mouth as she gasped, unable to believe her eyes. She looked up at the man, puzzled in spite of herself.
"Where did you get these?" she asked.
"Zak took them from you the other night. In all the struggling, it was easy to slip them off and hide them. It was quick thinking, on his part; his eyes are sharp, and he noticed them before any of us did. It's a good thing, too. If the queen had noticed them first…"
The man trailed off, leaving the rest to Zeel's imagination.
"And I'm to believe that he did this as a kind favor?"
"Well, we have returned them to you."
Zeel looked down at her returned things and sighed in defeat. Slipping her ring back into its proper place, she commented, "It is a comfort, after all. I thought they had been lost. It will be nice to have them with me when I die."
The man cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. "I ought to introduce myself. I am Zane Ferren, deputy captain of squad C-57."
"Oh. My mother's name was Ferren."
"Hm. The name is common enough here; but perhaps we are kin, by chance? It is a nice thought."
It was a rather nice thought, for all the trouble he had brought her. Perhaps she was just lonely and was glad to hear a truly kind word from someone—anyone. Her heart softened a bit. It was becoming harder and harder to stay angry with this man.
But what did he really want from her? Why had he really come here?
Zane smiled ruefully and braced his hand on one of the bars, tugging at it mockingly. "You're certainly locked in here good," he said. "They really didn't spare any expense on you. And yet I wonder at how they put you in this cell…"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, there's this old story they tell at the academy, a bit of an urban legend. They say that a while back, an old beggar was convicted for a theft—wrongly, some say—and thrown into this very cell without a trial. He was to be executed a week later, and left to rot here. But they had no way of knowing that this unlikely old man was exceptionally sharp. He somehow found a way of prizing the window grate away, and made a daring escape. The old fool apparently slipped right back into the slums he had been taken from, and was never found."
Zeel shook her head. "That is impossible. I've already tried it many times, in every way I could think of. You can tell your academy that it is merely a tale."
"To be sure, a tale they tell to frighten the young cadets. However, I've often recalled this story, wondering if such a thing could be true. And it's often occurred to me that perhaps we aren't considering it from the right angle. Perhaps we need to think… Outside the box, for a change."
Zeel stared at him hard, and he stared back with feeling. He was trying to tell her something. At length, Zane stretched his arms and sighed.
"I'm afraid I must leave you, now," he said apologetically. "The rest of the squad has covered for me; but if I don't return soon, someone will surely notice that I've left. We simply wanted to be sure that you had your things back in time. It is a long shot, but we hope that you will not think of us as monsters. If there was any way of proving how sorry we are, we would do it."
"You already have," she answered, unable to help feeling touched. "Thank you, Zane Ferren. It truly does mean much to me to have these back."
Zane put his cap back in place, and tipped it graciously. "Thank you, ma'am. Farewell, and good luck to you."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked quickly back the way he had come. Again, Zeel was alone with her thoughts.
She stared at her necklace for a long moment, rubbing the reed pipe lovingly with her thumb. She hadn't been there when her husband had made it for her, just before their wedding. The silk was faded now, but still yellow; the braided strips had come from her beloved kite, destroyed on their last adventure together. Rowan had kept it all that time, and saved it for just that purpose. It meant everything to her, and the ring on her finger was no less precious. The gold had come directly from Mountain Heart, with the blessing of a Dragon. The four perfect jewels had once paved the streets of the Valley of Gold. They were real parts of what was now her home, a promise that she truly belonged there, no matter what anyone said.
Not even the Dragon Queen can change that, she said to herself, gripping her necklace with new strength. This horrible city is not my home—Rowan is. He put himself in danger, went into places he fears, and dealt with a Dragon to make me this ring. It is proof to all people of our love and friendship, and that we belong together. That we will be together, no matter the cost. He would move the mountain itself if it stood between us.
And now this city and the sea stand between us. I will just have to move them, myself. I will see him again, and he will know his child. Never once has he let me down. I won't let him down, either.
She tugged her necklace over her head, stuffing the pipe under her dress, and hurried back to the window. Zane hadn't mentioned it for no good reason. She had spent hours examining it, trying to find a way to pull the barred grate away, but it had been no use. It was fixed in place, and couldn't be moved.
Think outside the box…
Outside the box….
Outside…
On a whim, Zeel reached through the grate and felt along the wall around it on the other side. The stones were slick from the rain, but worn and rough. She even felt moss and young ferns sprouting in places. And then her fingers brushed against a smooth bump along the window ledge. She felt around it, testing it, hoping against hope that it was what she thought it was. She pushed at it, and felt it sliding out of place.
A latch! The grate was held in place by a latch, hidden on the outside. Unable to believe her luck, she pushed at the grate and it swung away on equally hidden hinges.
The whole thing had been just on the other side of the wall, where no frightened, panicking prisoner would think to look. It was just the kind of cruel trick she might have expected from the Dragon Lords.
The window itself was small and far from the floor, but Zeel knew that she could manage it. She pushed her head and shoulders out into the pouring rain and looked around. She found herself looking down into a deserted alleyway, only one floor below her. The outside wall would be slippery, but the stones would certainly provide enough footholds for her to climb down. She pulled herself back into the cell and looked down at her dress.
It was a gown, really, with layer upon useless layer of fine fabrics; it had been hard to move much in, and was uncomfortable to just be in. The bodice fit her too closely, and breathing in it had taken getting used to. There was no way to fit through the small window in the thing. Zeel began tearing at it, ripping at laces and buttons and casting aside each bothersome layer in a heap. In the end, she was wearing only a thin silk shift, and many pounds lighter for it.
She had no idea what would come next—where she would shelter from the rain, or where she would find real clothes, or how she would conceal her unmarked face for long. Resolving to think of this once she had escaped, she heaved herself up onto the window ledge and crawled out of the window.
She was soaked almost at once, but she scrambled with ease down the side of the wall. It was the first wall she had seen here that wasn't made of metal or polished stone; it felt more like sandstone under her fingers, possibly neglected for so long because it was the outer wall of a dungeon, and only faced a dark alleyway. She was soon standing on solid ground in that dark space, shivering in the cold rain, trying to decide which way to run.
Something moved suddenly in the dark and she gasped in alarm. A lantern came to life not far from where she stood, illuminating only a small patch of the darkness. Into that space came a cloaked figure, just inches shorter than she was. Zeel backed away from it, cursing herself for being so foolish. How easily she had been caught! She might have known it wouldn't be so simple.
The figure raised the lantern until the light shone upon its face. It was the face of a young woman, much younger than herself, with wide golden eyes and a surprised expression. The woman raised her free hand, signaling that she meant no harm, and then pressed a finger to her lips.
"Hush, now, girl," the woman whispered in a thick accent. "I'm here to help. Will you come with me?"
She held out her hand hopefully, waiting for Zeel to take it. Zeel glanced around, fully expecting that several uniformed men would melt out of the shadows as soon as she had accepted. However, seeing an opportunity, and that she had no other choice, she decided to take a chance. If she took this chance, she couldn't possibly be any worse than she had started off in this strange place. And so, frowning in puzzlement, she took the woman's hand.
The woman nodded shortly, obviously pleased; then she turned and hurried out of the alleyway, hauling Zeel after her into the street. It seemed to be totally deserted. All the same, as the woman pulled her through street after dark, flooded street, Zeel kept her face down as much as possible. If someone saw her face now, they would both be done for. The woman was almost certainly aware of this, for she dashed through the streets as quickly as possible. She didn't even take the time to skirt around puddles, but splashed right through them in a hurry. She only stopped once, to push Zeel against a wall and hide the light of her lantern behind her cloak.
Zeel quickly saw why she had done this. Only a few seconds later, a heavy cart came trundling down the street they had nearly run across, pulled by a hulking shape she could only assume was a grach, and flanked by grumbling, hapless men. It seemed to take long moments for that cart to pass them. When it was well out of sight, the woman sighed in relief and resumed her journey, tugging Zeel out of hiding so suddenly that she gasped in surprise.
Where is she taking me? Zeel wondered, for what was easily the hundredth time.
The woman turned sharply, and Zeel found that she was being dragged toward the front door of a large house. It was the only one that stood out from the others around it, for a single light was lit in a front window. It was the most impressive house she had ever seen, and she could barely see it at all. The woman knocked lightly on the door and stood back a bit, silently waiting for it to be answered.
The door swung open, revealing the worried face of a young man. On seeing who was there, the worry vanished, replaced by gladness.
"You are overdue, my love," he greeted, pulling them inside. "We were starting to worry you had been caught! Where have you been?"
"Dodging garbage carts and flooded streets," the woman answered crisply, throwing back her hood and shaking the rain from her cloak. "I had to change courses twice. But I've brought her, all the same."
The man took her face in his hands and pulled her close. "I still can't believe you volunteered to do this. It was so dangerous. I'm just glad you're both aright."
Zeel was surprised. Either this young man was more relieved than she had thought, or perhaps great shows of affection were not so frowned upon here as she was used to. The woman pushed him away and brushed a few raindrops off his shoulders.
"Oh, Zamiel," she scolded, and then spoke some words in a foreign language. "I'm soaking wet. You'll catch your death this way."
The man, Zamiel, shrugged at her complaining. "I've caught worse."
"And you'll catch more than that," came a new voice, as another, much older woman came from another room, carrying a candle. "You've a guest, young man. I suggest you see to her properly."
Zamiel shook himself, and finally turned to Zeel with a rather charming smile. "Of course, where have my manners gone?" he said, offering her his hand. "Please, come with us and sit down."
"No," she exclaimed, backing away from him. "I'm tired of being led from one pace to another like this, and I won't do it anymore. Tell me what is going on, this instant!"
Zamiel stopped in his tracks, looking sincerely sorry. "Please, ma'am, forgive me for startling you. We're only trying to help."
"…Why?"
The older woman sighed huffily, and stormed to stand between him.
"This is nonsense," she snapped, pulling Zeel under her arm and guiding her into another room. "The child is soaked and no doubt chilled to the bone. This is no time or place to be arguing, when we've barely even begun." In a kinder voice, she continued, "Don't mind them. Young people hardly know how to think things through properly."
"I suppose I have to agree," Zeel mumbled, thinking of how careless her own child could be, and how irritating it was. The old woman smiled vaguely, and guided her into a bright living room. The space reminded Zeel very much of the parlor in her palace apartment; but it had a more natural air to it. The room was far more welcoming than that parlor had been. The rug on the floor was worn from years of feet trampling across it, and the table and chairs around the room were well-worn from use. Plainly, the space was meant to be lived in, and shared by many people.
There was even a dry towel over the arm of one chair, and cups for tea on the table, waiting to greet her. The old woman looked over her shoulder and gave an order to the young people behind her in that same foreign language; she suddenly reminded Zeel very much of several other women she had known in her life. For the first time since arriving in her homeland, she couldn't help but feel at home.
"Come stand by the fire, and take this, and dry yourself off before you catch a cold," the woman commanded, taking up the towel and thrusting it into Zeel's arms. "Ofelia is bringing tea from the kitchen, and Zamiel is locking up after us. Whatever lies they may have told you in the palace, you are truly safe here with us."
"Somehow, I have little trouble believing that," Zeel agreed, rubbing her dripping curls with the towel. "Still, you'll forgive me if I'm very confused. What is going on here?"
"Quite alright, quite alright," the woman insisted, brushing her skirt back into place. "What is going on here is a rather clever plan to save your life, and perhaps even to return you to where you came from."
"I thought I came from here."
"To where you belong, then. And I must say, the plan has worked quite well so far. I see you understood Zane's message, after all."
Zeel had to grin. "You sent him."
"Not quite," came Zamiel's voice, as he strode into the room, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "I'm afraid that was my idea."
As he said this, Ofelia returned with a teapot and scoffed at him. "But I made up that story he told her."
"Yes, yes you did, my dear," he agreed. "Please, ma'am, let me introduce us. I am Zamiel Garased, captain of squad C-57; Zane is my trusted deputy captain."
Zeel looked hard at the young man, and found that she recognized him, also. "So you were in charge of kidnapping me. And now you have rescued me, and are trying to take me home? Why would you do such a thing?"
"Because it was wrong. We hated to have to do it, but I'm sure you've noticed that the queen can be very… Persuasive. We had no choice but to go through with the mission. But we saw no reason why we couldn't try to make it right. And so the ten of us put our heads together and formed a plan before we went to your village that night."
"Ofelia and I happily agreed to play our own parts in it, once we learned of it," the old woman added proudly. "I am Thora Bhlai, a healer by trade, and a good friend of the Garased family. There is little that goes son with these boys that I don't know, and so I learned of their scheming quite quickly. I've offered you sanctuary in my home until they've figure out how to put you back, should you like to accept it."
"I would be thankful for that," Zeel agreed, shaking Thora's hand. "I, too, seem to have no choice."
"You could choose to take your chances in the streets," Ofelia said smartly. "You wouldn't last long and we don't recommend it, but it is a choice."
Thora narrowed her eyes and smiled tightly. "A grim observation, young lady. Thank you for sharing."
Ofelia grinned back, happy to be of help, and began pouring tea into the cups on the table.
"Not a bad idea," came a man's voice from the kitchen. "She's more than welcome to it, if you ask me."
"That's enough, Simon," Thora snapped back.
"I don't fancy having unmarked strangers in the house," the voice came again. "It'll be all our heads if she's found here."
"That's enough, I said! Take your sulking somewhere else, you old fool."
There was loud grumbling in the kitchen, but the man didn't speak again. Thora groaned in annoyance, and guided Zeel into a chair.
"Pay my brother no mind," she said impatiently. "He is infirm and practically blind, and chooses to be bitter about it. He'll give you no trouble while you are with us, but he is always in a foul mood. He will grow used to you in time. Rest assured that no matter what he says, I am glad to have you here."
"How many other people are hiding in this house?" Zeel asked, reaching for the cup closest to her.
"Only us, and no others. I don't usually harbor wanted fugitives in my home, but this cause is a noble one."
"I'd hate to cause you so much trouble, after what you've done for me."
"Never you mind all that," Thora said kindly. "We've already worked it all out. You will be perfectly safe here, and so will the rest of us. All we need do is use a bit of caution."
"And all you need is a simple disguise," Ofelia added, digging in her dress pocket and pulling out a flat wooden box. "A bit powder and kohl and black henna will do just the trick. Those western people won't recognize you, when I'm done with you."
"You should trust her on this," Zamiel remarked. "My love is a master of cosmetics and the like. She could transform you into just about anyone. An unremarkable woman of Habaharan will be no challenge for her. Ofelia and Thora will take good care of you, and explain the finer details of the plan."
Ofelia made a face. "Why don't you explain them yourself?"
"I'm afraid I must leave you," he answered regretfully. "Zaneth and I have been granted leave for mourning, which is generous as well as convenient; but we are still being watched. If I'm seen returning home in the rain at five o'clock in the morning, Central will be suspicious. It's a risk we can't afford to take. I've already risked so much letting the two of you get so involved."
"That is a risk of our own, young man," Thora insisted. "And I'll not let you go wandering around in this weather. People don't call me the best healer in Southside for nothing, you know."
Zamiel smiled and clasped Thora's hands in his own. "You are a gracious woman, Thora, and I wish I could accept your invitation, but home is where I must be. And I would rather be back before my brother wakes. The less he knows of what has happened tonight, and the fewer questions he think of to ask, the better we all will be. Believe me, I would prefer to stay and explain myself; but you understand that I can't, don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I do," Thora said with a sigh. "Hurry home to your brother, then, and give him a hug for me. And here, have one of your own. Stars know how badly you boys need it."
Zamiel returned the old woman's embrace, bent to give Ofelia a quick kiss, and then placed his strong hand on Zeel's shoulder.
"I'll be back to see you as much as I can," he said earnestly. "We'll keep you informed as much as possible. Finding a way to smuggle you out of the city will take time, but it will happen. I promise."
Zeel placed her hand on his and nodded shortly. "I feel that I can trust you on that. Take care, then."
He smiled at her words, and turned back the way he had come. Then he stopped short and looked over his shoulder, grinning broadly.
"Good night, Simon," he called toward the kitchen. "And try not to cause your sister too much trouble until I get back."
As Zamiel finally walked out, Simon began grumbling angrily again, louder this time. Thora and Ofelia laughed lightly over this, used to this. They seemed a fairly normal kind of family, not at all like a band of brooding, bloodthirsty monsters. Zeel had suspected for a long time that her people might be like this—sharing meals and stories and homes the way her own family did. It warmed her heart to see that she had been right about that all along.
All the same, a new thought was bothering her.
"Why is he on leave for mourning?" she asked. "What has happened with him?"
Thora and Ofelia's laughter died away, and they both looked grieved suddenly. Ofelia shut her eyes tightly and turned her head away, as if in great pain. Thora sighed sharply and shook her head.
"That is one of those finer details we've been left to explain," she said plainly. "Don't you worry about him, though. Zamiel and Zaneth Garased are fine, strong young men; they will find their way, in the end. And for all that has happened, Zamiel has crafted his great plan with all the care and cunning that Central Control could hope for. They couldn't boast a finer or cleverer young solider, not in all their legions. When I say he has accounted for everything, you may depend on it."
Still wondering, Zeel sipped her tea thoughtfully.
"Very well, then. I will depend on it with my life."
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Afterthoughts…
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Of course, you know why Zamiel and Zaneth are on leave. And, of course, that is about to change. ;D
I haven't yet decided if the story of the old man escaping through the window was a real thing that happened once. The people of Habaharan are far sharper than Central Control believes, which mostly benefits the people, but continues to baffle the guards. Because Fire is the element of passion, but burdened by vanity, the Dragon Lords tend not to learn from their mistakes as much as one would think. Because when they screw up, they screw up spectacularly… But they just can't seem to admit that they were wrong enough to fix the small glitches that always foil them. :/
Ofelia is a favorite side character of mine. She was largely inspired by Anjela Johnson, and her very thick, outrageous accent is somewhere between Mexican and Jamaican. Also, she is a semi-professional beautician. Basically….. Ofelia is half-cholla. XD
And yes. Zeel is pregnant. Because this isn't enough of a mess already. There are many reasons why this is going to be great, I promise.