The play extracts come from Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'. I have no qualms about spoiling a 420 years old classic. Thanks for reviewing^^
They had no way to tell the time. Chickaree had yet to come but the trio was hardly impatient, on the contrary.
Mags' sides were aching from silent laughter.
The tributes sat on a cover, taking turns at reading an old play Fife had found on the dusty shelves. The language was archaic and the theme misogynistic to a fault, but hearing Fife and Constantine reciting with gusto was more than Mags could hope to handle with a straight face. They had reached the fourth act and the two were immersed in the play as if they'd been born comedians. The aristocratic boy especially had a vibrancy to his voice that made their surroundings fade away.
"Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?"
"She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old master and my new mistress and myself, fellow Curtis."
"Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast," Fife said, her intonation perfect despite the comical widening in her eyes.
"Am I but three inches? Why, thy horn is a foot, and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office?"
Constantine's cheeks were flushed pink when he finished his lines. Fife's control shattered and she burst out laughing. "I hope you're not three inches, Constantine. Wealth can only compensate so much."
Constantine shut the book with a huff, struggling to keep a dignified bearing. "I knew I should not have accepted to play the servant's part."
"Rubbish, you're having even more fun than we are," Mags said with a grin, "please tell me Kate turns the table on her horrid husband in the end."
Constantine flicked through the pages up to the last scene. His eyebrows almost disappeared in his hairline.
"Hear, hear, ladies: ancient wisdom," he began with a devilish smile.
"Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance; commits his body
To painful labor, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou li'st warm at home, secure and safe;"
"No way, Kate had a personality. She's just saying that to get him to lie off," Fife exclaimed, making a grab for the book.
Constantine's smirk broadened as he stood up to keep his arm out of the short girl's reach. He continued reading with greater glee than Mags found appropriate.
"And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience—
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband; -"
"Close that up," Mags snapped playfully, unable to hide a pang of disappointment at Kate's closing monologue. "At least Panem is more civilized now on some matters than whoever wrote this."
Fife chuckled wryly. "Let's hold on to that and feel good about ourselves."
Mags punched the brunette's arm. "We have lots to do before we're allowed to feel good."
The other huffed. Spoilsport, her accusing glare said.
"Should we find a tome that doesn't paint women as inferiors and start anew?" Constantine said.
Fife rubbed her eyes. "I'd need better light. I haven't read so much in years. Maybe they want us to come out, just to show we're the ones who need them and not the other way around or something."
Mags rolled her eyes. Surely they were above such petty displays of power, especially with teenagers who were already stranded in their base.
"You came with little notice. I do have a schedule, Wanderlings."
Mags scrambled to her feet, only to see Chickaree standing in the entrance. Mags colored at the thought of Chickaree having heard Fife's suspicions. The woman was holding a box.
"Here is a five day's worth of food each for your supplies."
Constantine arched his eyebrows in silent question.
"Because the nutritional value is the same, it will take less storage space in your bags, but you'll make a fair few people happy since fresh foods seldom reach us," Chickaree said with a bright humoring smile.
Mags took the box, revealing a pile of wrapped brown biscuit-like cakes and smaller boxes full of colored pills. Those would keep. "Thank you," Mags said earnestly. The three of them were a liability at best and dangerous at worst. She couldn't blame the rebels for not having been friendlier. Chickaree had been gracious to let them in the precious library.
"In each box is a daily vitamin and mineral supply. The paste is mostly made from nuts and contains what sugar and fats your body needs."
"You have industries of your own here?" Fife said, her face shining with curiosity. "Those kinds of pharmaceuticals are manufactured in District Six."
Chickaree turned to face the shorter girl. The tightness in her smile was telling.
Fife lowered her gaze.
"Any questions that would not compromise my people's safety?"
Mags tensed. A little understanding would have been welcome. They weren't here by choice and they'd had a rotten week.
Constantine was the first to speak. "Why did the Scavenger call us donkeys?" He sounded so serious Mags didn't dare laugh.
A small chuckle escaped Chickaree's lips. "Because you are the beasts of burden of the Cestoda, you toil for them and live miserable leashed lives."
Mags bristled at her patronizing tone. "Do you teach them to reach out, that rebellion still exists in the districts? That the war isn't over?" She challenged, the Scavenger's words vivid in her mind. Living free should not come at the price of being hidden. They had fought to topple the Capitol and shouldn't settle for anything less.
Chickaree's gray eyes flashed with warning, her voice unyielding as steel. "Anyone can find us, our presence is no secret for those who listen. Why should we ask even more of our citizens? Coming here means risking the Capitol's wrath, that is why so few dare come. They're cowards."
Mags didn't back down, unable to forget the peacekeeper they'd had to kill. "Some people will never be soldiers. It is your responsibility to help free Panem since you have the ability, the resources and the strength to do it. You can't just stay hidden for the next three generations."
She stopped right there, realizing she was assuming a lot about the Citadel's resources. Why weren't more people coming to the Citadel, if it was common knowledge, at least in Three? It would indeed take more than a couple thousands people to start another rebellion, let alone win it. The Capitol numbered over a hundred thousands and Two was the second most populated district, after Eleven.
"Don't be naive," Fife said. "They're doing all they can. Ideals don't win a war or we'd not be here. They're miles ahead of any other rebel wannabe group in the Districts."
Chickaree inclined her head to Fife. "Precisely. We'll soon come for you. Use the brushes under the third shelf to beat the dust out of your clothes, you are filthy."
"We're out of the loop. She thinks we're idiots," Fife muttered once the woman had left.
Mags crossed her arms, resisting the urge to strike the girl. She could accept being called naive, but Fife's attitude belied her words. "So you didn't mean that?"
"Not entirely," Fife said, "you didn't know about the Citadel so I think that knowledge is much harder to get than Chickaree wants us to believe. I think they feel great about being The Rebels and don't think the rest of us donkeys are worth the bother. But she can get us killed with one word, so please don't antagonize her."
So could the Capitol, but that had never make Mags abandon her ideals. Fear shouldn't keep people mute and it would be ridiculous for Chickaree to kill them for arguing with her in private. If Chickaree wanted to kill them, it wouldn't be for such a stupid thing.
"I agree with Fife," Constantine said in somber tones, "be careful, Mags, fanatics, rebel or Capitol, do not take well to being challenged."
Mags opened her arms in disbelief. "Why is she suddenly a fanatic? She's suspicious, she should be! Just because she's a little high-strung…"
"Better be too careful," Fife cut in, "them being rebels doesn't mean your goals are their goals. They could be radicals who hate the districts."
The use of your instead of our didn't escape Mags' notice, but maybe it should've made her happy, at least Fife was being honest about her priorities. "Fine. You just try to stop asking questions about everything."
The shorter girl blushed, making Mags feel petty. She was curious too.
"Aren't you impatient to make yourselves pretty for all those dreamy tattooed rebels, ladies?" Constantine said in a sing-song voice before handing them the brushes.
That tore a laugh from Mags' throat. "Don't let any of them try and steal us away."
"Don't worry, Mags. We're with the guy with the biggest sword," Fife said with a smirk.
Constantine shot her a withering glare. His hand then went to the weapon by his side. "They did not ask us to disarm."
"They're soldiers, no one's helpless here. I wouldn't be surprised if they have some firearms," Mags said, now impatient to leave the library. She hated staying idle.
"So… do we want to find the quickest route to the Capitol or do we stay here?"
Fife's question had the effect of a thunder shock. The thought they could be prisoners in all but name had not entered Mags' mind, but Chickaree had indeed little to gain by letting them leave.
The young woman sat back down and brought her knees to her chin. Could she be a rebel and nothing else? Could she let go of Mags Abalone, daughter of Angelites, sister of Esperanza and friend of Dylana and Marlin? People didn't just float around, devoid of attachments. Could she live without knowing if she would see the sea again?
"Why can't Mama come with us, Dad?"
"Esperanza is much too small to follow us, Princess. We'll see them in District Four."
"So is Mags, Jasper. She should go with Angelites."
"I'm not too small! I've done everything like you!"
"Mags knows what we're fighting for. Every man woman and child who can fight should be taking a stand. "
"Everyone has an excuse otherwise, and no one will fight," Mags said forcefully, tilting her little chin up. She wasn't so small as not to understand what was said when her family set camp in the evenings."I'm coming too!"
Her seven year old self would not have hesitated. Everything had seemed much simpler then.
"You're less invested in this cause than I am. What do you want?" Mags asked. She'd had it all planned out so well, volunteering, winning, training teenagers in Four…. Now she felt like she was swimming in a dark gelid sea.
"Why would that matter to you? The rebellion is greater than any individual, is it not?" Constantine said, running his hand on the blade of his sword.
Mags would have preferred to hear sarcasm in his tone. He was deathly serious. She felt weary to the bone. "We fight for people, not just ideals. The ideals exist to serve people not the other way around. Throwing my life away won't help anyone."
"How about we cheat?" Fife finally said.
Mags' lips twitched at the other's forced cheer. "Sounds better than self-pitying."
Constantine's brow creased in suspicion. "You'll make a villain out of me yet."
"Says the guy who picks sewer locks," Fife said with a teasing smile. "There are no underhanded means when the cause is great."
Mags wondered briefly what it would be like to retain your own life more important than the freedom of a nation. Fife didn't seem to have a problem.
"We need to see what Chickaree wants and for this we need to mingle, sell ourselves. What can you do? Talents they would not have here," the brunette pursued.
"I can weave, baskets, knots and make hooks from anything, probably better than anyone," Mags said, not bothering with false modesty.
"Aside the obvious, I can paint," Constantine said.
Fife affected a dreamy sigh. "What an accomplished gentleman you make."
"My governess will not stop chattering, unless she paints, so I had her teach me." Constantine replied, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.
Mags bit back a laugh, feeling some of her tension evaporate, of course he would have a governess.
"What's a governess?" Fife had once again her 'Constantine, you're an alien look.' The look grew more pronounced as Mags explained.
Shadows of doubt and anger seemed to come alive in Constantine's dark eyes. "I am acquainted with peacekeeper drills and their latest equipment," he said after a tense pause.
"You'd tell them that?" Mags blurted, astonished.
Constantine's eyes were hooded as he looked away. "If peacekeepers are stupid enough to obey an order to storm this stronghold, their deaths won't be a great loss."
His dismissive tone was frightening. Mags doubted peacekeepers had much of a choice when ordered but she did not press. It was their best plan. The rebels would not welcome parasites so the trio would contribute and, hopefully, get answers. Mags wondered if it was truly cheating, since both her and Chickaree, differences aside, wanted the rebels of Three's underground to prosper.
"What about you, Fife?"
The short haired girl smiled, a hard smile. "I can tell stories, tell them how we live in the Districts now, or whatever Chickaree wants me to. Don't worry Mags," she said as the other girl's expression grew guarded, "I serve us, not them. I don't want them to despise the districts even more."
How many lies could one weave until they turned against you? Should they play in the rebel's hunger for information on the outside world like that? Mags finally nodded, deciding not to interfere. She fiercely hoped Fife knew what she was doing. She also hoped that Chickaree would ask for the truth.
Chickaree didn't keep them waiting long. She entered the library with a black-haired man in his thirties. Mags guessed he was a recent arrival, for while his back and arms were tattooed, his chest was bare, unlike any of the other adult males they'd seen. He stood behind the woman, very much like a body guard. Maybe this was a way to honor new members of their community; by showing they were trusted with the lives of eminent rebels.
"What now, Wanderlings?"
"We would like to contribute," Constantine said.
The three had agreed to let him speak. Fife lacked the charisma of her two companions and Mags lacked the aristocratic boy's negotiating experience and would risk being flustered by unexpected questions. Fife had also insisted that a charming and handsome male would go further with Chickaree than any earnest female. Mags had wanted to object that Constantine looked too wealthy to be trusted by rebels, and was miffed to see the brunette had been correct. The auburn-haired rebel hardly made a fool of herself, but she seemed more relaxed and feminine than when she had talked to Mags. It bothered Mags to think that maybe Constantine had been correct and that any district dweller, wealthy or poor, was considered a potential enemy.
"Very well," Chickaree finally said with a small appraising smile, "welcome to the Citadel."
Mags was not one for double-dealings, power plays and deceit, but she couldn't deny its uses.
She belatedly realized as Chickaree introduced her to group of weavers that it could be days before she would see Constantine or Fife again. Unfortunately it was too late to protest. She repressed a shiver at the thought of being alone among these strangers.
She firmly shook hands with an gray-haired but agile-looking man.
"I'm Lars. Let's see what wonder the outside world brought us, lass," he said with a friendly smile.
"I'm happy to help, Lars," Mags replied, and, despite her nervousness, despite her fear of never seeing her family again, she meant every word.
Please review^^.