Origins: Two Prisoners

"Why do I find Xim fascinating? Because he was a man without a cage."
Asenac, 593-244 BBY

Year 8 of Xer's Reign
501 LE

Oziaf braced himself, because he was about to be served to a feast.

Not as an entree, thankfully. Back on the Hutt dromon certain parties had considered him edible but his current captors, for all their faults, did not. Tonight he was being served as entertain-ment. From snout to tail he was festooned in bright ribbons, jangling cymbals and bells, like a walking parody of the tent town where he'd been sold away. T'iin T'iin were a festive people given to song and dance, and as a child Oziaf had been no exception. He'd never thought those talents would serve him here.

He sat on a bier in a back room for an hour listening to chatter and laughter echo from the dining hall beyond. He wasn't sure what the occasion for celebration was, but it probably involved rape and pillage somewhere. Since being brought to Argai as a gift to its Pirate King, he'd learned that his captors were renegades who preyed mostly on their fellow humans; the raid on the dromon had been an especially bold attack, far from their homeworld.

When the summons came, two humans picked up Oziaf's bier. He stood upright on two legs and, jangling for all his chimes and bells, allowed himself to be carried into the feast hall. Inside the cavernous stone-walled space, over two dozen men sat along the stretched-out table. Most were still chattering but the pair sitting at high-backed chairs in the center watched his entrance eagerly.

Oziaf recognized them both. The broad-shouldered, thick-bearded man with medallion across his half-bared chest was the Pirate King Xer VIII. At his right hand (literal and metaphorical) was Thane son of Thalc, he of the long black hair and equally long whiskers (or mustaches, as these humans called them).

As the bier approach, Xer rattled silverware against golden goblet and announced, "All right, you louts, listen up! It's time for some entertainment! Krenn, shut up over there! Show some respect!"

It wasn't respect Oziaf saw in the humans' beady eyes. It was condescending curiosity as to what minor beast their king had brought before them.

One of them even asked, "Where'd you get this one, Xer?"

"This little fellow's a gift from Roak son of Rem. Got him off that galleon we took last year, down past Gwynhes Minor."

Another lout whistled. "I heard about that raid. Impressive!"

And a third asked, "Where's it from? What's it called?"

"What is it called?" Xer said musingly and looked to Oziaf. "Well, my pet, speak won't you? Impress us with that tongue of yours."

Oziaf took his cue. He executed a crisp jangling bow and said, "I am but a humble T'iin T'iin of Rin, brought from far-off stars to liven up your din."

He spoke it in Tionese and their eyes shone approval. Oziaf had a skill for languages, he'd discovered; it might have been his only talent without a drawback.

Xer raised his goblet. "Keep going! Sing us a song!"

Oziaf gave another noisy bow, then began to dance and sing.

"Welcome, welcome, come ye all
To evening feast in this great hall.
Men of Argai gather 'round
And of your greatness I'll propound.
To celebrate Xer's total might
Do we converge on this fine night.
He leads his horde, ye cruel and brave
And collects in hand all things we crave:
Stalimur silver, gold from Cron,
Ebon arms of Duinarbulon.
No cage can hold you, no prison bar,
For Argai's men grasp every star.
So scour plates, drain goblets deep
Empty all for well-earned sleep."

He watched the humans as he performed. Some laughed, some grinned, some looked bored and started draining their goblets. A usual performance, in other words, but Xer was entertained, which was what mattered. His purpose in life came down to pleasing the Pirate King.

Oziaf hated them all. Even running contraband on the dromon had been a better life than this. He was a toy to be gawked at and nothing more. But he'd expected to hate them; he never forgot Gedor's words to him before they parted: Foul are creatures such as these, yet dominate the universe they do. And because they were dominant he had to dance and sing and act a fool for the satisfaction of drooling sadists.

Sometimes he thought Gedor was in the back of his mind, reaching for him in their ethereal bond. He didn't know if it was real. He didn't know if there was any sort of spatial limit to the connection they'd shared on the dromon. He could easily be going mad from loneliness and spite.

When Oziaf finished the performance, Xer applauded nosily and so did his followers. Thane tossed a dumpling onto Oziaf's bier, laughing. The Pirate King dismissed them with a wave of the hand and Oziaf was carried to the back room. Once he was in shadow he bent down, sniffed the dumpling, then swallowed it up. It was surprisingly good.

His work was done, so he stripped off his banners and bells. He retired to the slaves' quarters, where he made nest with a handful of equally-miserable humans. The damp, cold under-ground corridors were like T'iin T'iin burrows back home but even more squalid. Per palace rules, all slaves were to remain there after dark unless summoned for work. As a result, Oziaf had yet to see the stars of Argai. In fact, barring a few glimpses through dirt-smudged portholes on the dromon, he'd not seen stars since being thrown in a cage on Rinn three years ago. In a very real sense he'd never left that cage.

But this night it would be different.

He'd been planning his escape for months, and now it was time. The celebration in the dining hall would go on 'til dawn and keep guards and palace staff busy. Oziaf settled in for an hour and when the slave quarters had gone totally still, when he could spy no busy minds with his third eye, he sneaked out into the palace.

He'd made night-time explorations before, probing the palace's nooks and crannies as he searched for a way out. He could fit through cracks huge humans could not; he could scuttle low and silently in the dark, where he could see better than them too. And of course he had his power, which allowed him not only to sense the presence of guards but muddle their minds so they ignored his passing.

But this time, for the first time, Oziaf was intent on breaking out of the palace. He'd been patient and his previous ventures had been meant solely to explore the place. Last week he'd found what passed for archives in a pirate's den and uncovered schematics of its interior and outer walls. Now, with map in head, he was ready to make his break for freedom.

If he bungled it, they would kill him. So be it.

Oziaf had used the map to identify a weak spot in the fortress' walls: a drain running into the hills outside. He followed dark paths to reach the drain and the courtyard it spilled from, relying on this third eye to warn him of guards. At times he risked scuttling past them and used his power to blur their sleepy minds.

He passed three sets of guards like that. According to the map he'd memorized, he was almost at the courtyard. His heart raced faster with excitement. He'd barely thought about what he'd do outside the palace. Maybe he'd live in the woods and dig burrows like an animal; it didn't matter. He just wanted to be free. He wanted to see the stars at night.

As he drew closer his lust ran wild. The distraction nearly killed him. As he passed the last set of guards, one of them jerked in his direction, threw a torchlight on him, and growled. "Who's there? Who is it?"

The second guard turned on his light too. The glare blinded Oziaf; he squeaked in distress and tried to blur their minds but panic, damn it, was ruining his control.

"Hey, it's Xer's pet!" the first guard said.

"What are you doing out here, rat?" growled the second.

He was cornered. Oziaf rose on hind legs and said in his most commanding voice, "Let me pass!"

His most commanding was not enough. The guards growled and approached him. "I asked you a question," that second one said. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Urgent business for the King." Oziaf's squeaky voice couldn't intimidate but he called on his power.

Let me pass, he spoke into their minds. I command you. Let me pass. Let me pass. Let me pass.

The ugly humans glowered but didn't seize him. Thought-fully the first one said, "Maybe we can let 'im pass."

"Hmm…. Maybe," pondered the second one.

I'm on the king's business. Let me pass let me pass let me pass.

"I guess we can let him pass," number two shrugged. "He's on the king's business."

So they let him pass. Oziaf's heart pounded as when they unlocked the gate and ushered him through. He didn't dare release their minds until they'd closed the door behind him.

He'd done it. Oziaf turned giddy; he scampered into the center of the courtyard garden and looked up at the sky. It was the blackest black he'd ever seen but dotted with the whitest white. The stars never ended. The universe seemed limitless, his prison dissolved.

He set about finding the exit. He saw a stream running through the garden, followed its soft tinkle and reflected starlight, and found the circular drain at the base of the outer walls.

Across that drain was a grate. Its bars were laid horizontally and vertically in a criss-crossing mesh, with gaps so small not even a T'iin T'iin could fit through.

He'd come close, so close. Oziaf wanted to laugh and scream. Both sounds escaped him together; then he collapsed on the ground. He rolled onto his back and stared at the stars, beautiful and taunting, and the high walls around him. Let the guards hear him. Let them find him, punish him, even kill him. He'd rather die than spend the rest of his life in this cage.

Then a silhouette blocked the stars. Oziaf jerked to two feet. It was so dark here he couldn't make out the human's face but the body seemed thin, young.

A voice asked, "What are you doing out here, little pet?"

Why did that seem familiar? Oziaf reached out to smudge the young human's mind. Let me go, he urged. Ignore me, go away, I'm nothing.

But the human said, "I asked you a question. You're Oziaf, aren't you? My father's jester."

Then he understood. He'd only seen Xer's son from a distance. There seemed little of the Pirate King in Xim; he was a slim, quiet, often sullen boy. He'd heard Xer complain about his son many times, sometimes in Xim's presence. He called him weak, lazy, and worst of all, civilized. Xim would always sit there and take it.

Xim asked again, "Why are you out here, Oziaf?"

His voice was a little hoarse. What, he wondered, had the Pirate King's son been doing in this lonely courtyard in the middle of the night?

"Nothing," Oziaf muttered, and tried against to nudge Xim's mind. Let me go let me go let me go.

But Xim was unmoved. Oziaf could feel his mind like a steady, bright light in the dark. It refused to waver.

"How did you get past the guards?"

"How did you?" Oziaf muttered flippantly.

"This is my palace."

"No it's not. It's your father's. And he doesn't think much of you."

"Are you asking me to kill you?" Xim growled.

"Maybe I am." What, after all, did he have to live for? He was trapped and abandoned by everyone, even his teacher. Oziaf dropped his backside on the ground. He looked past Xim and those pretty, unreachable stars were still there. "If I'm going to die, at least I'll go out looking at something beautiful."

Xim looked at the sky too and considered. "They are beautiful," he admitted, voice wistful.

Neither said anything for a minute. Oziaf gradually realized that Xim wasn't going to kill him or tell the guards.

"What did you come out here for?" Oziaf was too exhausted to be scared of Xim now.

"Maybe I was looking for an escape route."

"Too bad. That grate's too tight, even for me."

"Oh well." Xim sounded amused. "Why are you here? Star-gazing?"

"Why not?" Laughter shook Oziaf, but his throat was dry and it turned to a cough.

"You're exhausted," said Xim. "Here, have this."

The human shifted against the night. He held a small metal water bottle in one hand and its upturned cap in the other. Xim poured into the cap, filled it to the brim, and passed it to Oziaf. He took and drank. Water had never tasted water so good.

Xim drank directly from the bottle, then sat down in the grass beside Oziaf. The T'iin T'iin watched the pirate prince from the corner of his eye. In the starlight he could see more details of the boy's face. Was that a swelling around the eyes, the kind left by lonely weeping? Perhaps.

Eventually Xim asked, "If you escape, where will you go?"

"I don't know," Oziaf admitted. "To the stars, I suppose."

"Your home is far away, isn't it?"

He thought of cages, betrayal. "I have no home."

Xim considered that. "Then why leave?"

Because he was a slave who spent every day dominated by foul creatures. But the stars teemed with foul creatures too. Wherever he went, there they'd be.

Oziaf could feel Xim, see into him with his third eye, but he couldn't compel the young human. Even Xer he could nudge a little, with difficulty. The boy was beyond his influence, and that interested him.

"Where would you go if you escaped?" he asked Xim.

"I don't want to escape."

"Then you just came here to… admire the stars."

"I want them," Xim said in a whisper. "I want them all." He lifted a hand toward the sky, fingers outstretched, then closed a fist like he was grasping stars. But all he held was empty air.

"What would you do if you had them?" Oziaf asked.

Xim had to think, like it had never occurred to him before. Then he said, "Whatever I want. Nobody could stop me."

It struck Oziaf as the irrational answer of a bullied boy, yet Xim had gravity beyond his years.

"How would you conquer every star?" he asked rhetorically.

Xim said, "One at a time."

"That would take forever."

"I'm patient."

How strange this human was. With his third eye Oziaf sensed a wistful kind of greed, melancholy because it knew it could never be sated.

After a while Xim said, "You're more than just a jester, aren't you?"

Oziaf's fur bristled. A whiff of his water-sense had made him Castaway from Rinn. He'd heard humans talk about ancient alien Tyrants who'd wielded supernatural power. Everyone feared his inner strength. He had to be careful.

"It wasn't my first calling," he equivocated.

Xim smiled in the starlight. "You can do more than sing and dance. You can see, you can listen… People let all sorts of things slip when you're around, don't they? It's because they don't see you as a threat."

With relief, he realized Xim wasn't talking about his third eye, "I'm just a humble T'iin T'iin," he said.

"And I'm just a pirate prince." Xim laughed once, bitterly. "Maybe one day we can get out of this cage, you and I."

It was an incredible dream, the kind Oziaf had learned not to trust. "What then?" he asked.

Xim looked at the stars, as though they held all the answers.