3. The Veiled Pris­oner
As the hoplites haul me to my feet, the last thing I see is the dis­tant sil­hou­ette of the lamashu fly­ing away into the night sky, well beyond the build­ings and walls and fiery car­nage of Libri.

Then they put a bag over my head.

 

They march me through town, zigzag­ging down streets and up treach­er­ous steps. The cloth is rough and hot and moist with con­densed exha­la­tion. My breath doesn’t smell good, from the vomit, and it takes every shred of willpower to stop myself from doing that again.

I can hear the muf­fled yells of natives scream­ing and pha­lanxes march­ing and clash­ing. I can hear this only through my right ear.

The noise dies down. Now all I hear is my own hyper­ven­ti­lat­ing, ampli­fy­ing my fran­tic thoughts. The real­iza­tion that my entire future has col­lapsed into this moment grabs me by the throat. My heart beats so fast it feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest.

“Watch the stairs!” a sol­dier yells, as he pushes me blindly into them. I stum­ble over myself and nearly crack my face against a stone cor­ner. My unseen cap­tors pull me back up and nearly lift me off my feet as they drag me up the stairs.

I hear the rum­bling scrape of a gravitic door slid­ing up and then slam­ming down behind me. The air sud­denly becomes much cooler.

A few dozen more stum­bling paces—then I’m pushed down onto a wooden chair, and some­one tears the bag off my head.

 

In front of me, behind a clut­tered desk, is a burly, important-looking man. Absorbed in his paper­work, he pays me no heed. But I hide my face any­way. I had been cry­ing a lit­tle when the bag was over my head. I wipe the tears away furtively and glance around the room—a large, ele­gant office lit by bright lit-lamps under blue-violet paper cov­er­ings.

“At ease, hoplites,” he says with­out look­ing up. “What is your name, boy?”

I tell him.

“What are you, thir­teen? Four­teen?”

“Four­teen, sir.”

He scrib­bles some­thing too long to be my age.

“Who are your par­ents?”

“I … don’t know.”

“What the hell is that sup­posed to mean?”

“I’m an orphan,” I say.

“Where do you live?”

I look down. They’re going to find out any­way. “I go to board­ing school at Nabuk Street Tem­ple.”

He con­tin­ues scrib­bling non­stop. “Do you know who I am?”

“Are you … the satrap?”

A hoplite slaps the back of my head. “Address Satrap Nim­rod as sir!”

The satrap holds up a hand dis­mis­sively, smiles, scrib­bles a final note. Then he looks me squarely in the eye. He has a scar run­ning down his cheek like a thin teardrop.

“I am the gov­er­nor of Libri. Do you know why you’re here?”

“I … sir, I think there’s been a mistake—where’s Kiddu?”

“Your com­pa­triot? Is that her name? She will be ques­tioned shortly. Now let me explain. My hoplite says you were on the wall of the Cir­cus at the time of the attack. The chain bind­ing the Cir­cus’ prized lamashu, which attacked my sol­diers, is bro­ken. We find this—”

He tosses a flask on the desk. I look down at my lap, gri­mac­ing.

“With­er­ing tinc­ture,” Satrap Nim­rod says. “No use pre­tend­ing. We know you had it. You can’t buy that legally. That tells me you’ve been med­dling in the black mar­ket. Do you know who the pri­mary buy­ers of with­er­ing tinc­ture are?”

The ques­tion hangs in the air for a moment. I con­tinue star­ing at my lap, know­ing my reac­tions are being closely stud­ied.

“Native ter­ror­ists who use it to sab­o­tage our armor. They buy it from sym­pa­thiz­ers on our side of the Wall. Now—what did you say your name was?”

“Gil.”

“Gil, I can see you’re not a native. I imag­ine that’s what makes you a valu­able asset to them.”

“What!?”

He holds up a hand again and I shut my mouth.

“I am not going to waste time tak­ing chances tonight. My city is burn­ing. You will tell me every­thing you know about the mys­tics. And I don’t want to hear some fable about a leg­endary hid­den city in the moun­tains. I want to know where they’re hid­ing in the desert. And I want to know which natives in the city are har­bor­ing them. If you’re forth­com­ing, you’ll be impris­oned until a later date when you can stand trial. If you are not forth­com­ing, you will be inter­ro­gated until you are. Is that under­stood?”

It feels like some­one just punched me in the stom­ach. I know exactly what inter­ro­ga­tion means. I lean over on my lap and try to stop myself from throw­ing up again.

Then I look up and say, as earnestly as I can: “Please, sir, you have to lis­ten. We had no idea the mys­tics were going to attack. The only rea­son we set the lamashu free is because … we’re mem­bers of Bes­tial Lib­er­a­tion.”

 

“What are you talk­ing about now?”

“Bes­tial Lib­er­a­tion. We—we try to help beasts, like the lamashu. We’re against bes­tial oppres­sion.”

Bes­tial oppres­sion? Get him out of here! I don’t have time for this non­sense.”

The two hoplites lift me up and drag me towards the door. But I try to twist around as much as I can.

“Please! You can’t just assume I’m a ter­ror­ist just because you’re too igno­rant to know about Bes­tial Lib­er­a­tion!”

Nim­rod looks up from his papers and just barely smirks.

“Do not call me igno­rant, boy.”

For a moment I think I’m in even deeper trou­ble now. But then the door to the room opens to a com­mo­tion out­side. A hoplite enters, clutch­ing his arm.

“Satrap, sir, the girl is hys­ter­i­cal. She keeps on ram­bling about beasts—”

“Beasts?” says the satrap. “What, had you two worked out this excuse before­hand?”

One of the other hoplite guards steps for­ward. I notice his skin is light tan, like the natives.

“Satrap,” he says, “I think the boy may be telling the truth. Bes­tial Lib­er­a­tion is known to us. The group oper­ates under­ground, and many of them are cer­tainly crim­i­nals, but they do not appear to have any sig­nif­i­cant rela­tion to the native polit­i­cal resis­tance, and cer­tainly not to the mys­tics. And in any case, I have never seen these two in the native dis­trict.”

“Is that so,” says the satrap. “Well, I’m not going to inter­ro­gate a kid for belong­ing to some beast-loving cult.”

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. “Satrap, sir, thank you for see­ing rea­son—”

“Rea­son, boy? I don’t see any damn rea­son for what you did. You’re lucky that mon­ster you set free didn’t kill some­one! You will await trial until mar­tial law is lifted. I expect your judg­ment will be harsh. Take him to the prison.”

“But Satrap, sir,” says the native hoplite, “the prison is already over capac­ity. All those natives we brought in from the riot tonight—”

“Hm,” says Satrap Nim­rod. He strokes his chin, star­ing at me placidly. “I should just have your hands cut off. Did you know that’s what the natives did to thieves, before we came here? Per­haps there are some glim­mers of enlight­en­ment in their bar­barism…”

I gulp. Even in the strangely cool air, I can’t stop sweat­ing. The satrap con­tin­ues to look at me, right in the eye, with his half-smirk and dis­tract­ing scar.

Finally, he looks down at his desk and begins scrib­bling more notes.

“Take both of them to the old prison, then.”

“Satrap, that is where we are hold­ing—”

“You have your orders, hoplite. That is that.”