“They just want us to be able to haul their wagons,” says the man who glared.
“Yeah,” Ykka interrupts. “That’s precisely right. Strongbacks in Castrima get a comm share and a bed, when we have one to give, in exchange for their contribution. What’d you get from Rennanis?”
“Some rusting pride, maybe,” says the glarer, glaring harder.
“Shut up, Phauld,” says Danel.
“These mongrels think they —”
Danel sets her bowl of food down. The glarer immediately shuts up and tenses, his eyes going a little wide. After a moment, Danel picks up her bowl and resumes eating. Her expression hasn’t changed the whole time. You find yourself suspecting that she’s raised children.
Ykka, elbow propped on one knee, rests her chin on her fist and watches Phauld for a moment. To Danel, she says, “So what do you want me to do about that one?”
Phauld immediately frowns. “What?”
Danel shrugs. Her bowl’s empty now, but she runs a finger around its curve to sweep up the last sauce. “Not for me to say anymore.”
“Doesn’t seem very bright.” Ykka purses her lips, considering the man. “Not bad-looking, but harder to breed for brains than looks.”
Danel says nothing for a moment, while Phauld looks from her to Ykka and back in growing incredulity. Then, with a heavy sigh, Danel looks up at Phauld, too. “What do you want me to say? I’m not his commander anymore. Never wanted to be in the first place; I got drafted. Now I don’t rusting care.”
“I can’t believe you,” Phauld says. His voice is too loud, rising in panic. “I fought for you.”
“And lost.” Danel shakes her head. “Now it’s about surviving, adapting. Forget all that crap you heard back in Rennanis about Sanzeds and mongrels; that was just propaganda to unite the comm. Things are different now. ‘Necessity is the only law.’”
“Don’t you rusting quote stonelore at me!”
“She’s quoting stonelore because you don’t get it,” snaps the other man – the one who liked the food. “They’re feeding us. They’re letting us be useful. It’s a test, you stupid shit. To see if we’re willing to earn a place in this comm!”
“This comm?” Phauld gestures around at the camp. His laugh echoes off the rock faces. People look around, trying to figure out if the yelling means there’s some kind of problem. “Do you hear yourself? These people haven’t got a chance. They should be finding somewhere to bunker down, maybe rebuild one of the comms we razed along the way. Instead —”
Ykka moves with a casualness that doesn’t deceive you. Everyone could see this coming, including Phauld, but he’s too stubborn to acknowledge reality. She stands up and unnecessarily brushes ash off her shoulders and steps across the circle and then puts a hand on the crown of Phauld’s head. He tries to twitch back, swatting at her. “Don’t rusting touch —”
But then he stops. His eyes glaze over. Ykka’s done that thing to him – the thing she did to Cutter back in Castrima-under when people were working themselves into an orogene-lynching mob. Because you knew it was coming this time, you’re able to get a better handle on how she does the strange pulse. It’s definitely magic, some kind of manipulation of the thin, silvery filaments that dance and flicker between the motes of a person’s substance. Ykka’s pulse cuts through the knot of threads at the base of Phauld’s brain, just above the sessapinae. Everything’s still intact physically, but magically it’s as if she’s chopped his head off.
He sags backward, and Ykka steps aside to let him flop bonelessly to the ground.
One of the other Rennanis women gasps and scoots back, her chains jangling. The guards glance at each other, uncomfortably, but they’re not surprised; word of what Ykka did to Cutter spread through the comm afterward. A Rennanese man who hasn’t spoken before utters a swift oath in one of the Coaster creole languages; it’s not Eturpic so you don’t understand it, but his fear is clear enough. Danel only sighs.
Ykka sighs, too, looking at the dead man. Then she eyes Danel. “I’m sorry.”
Danel smiles thinly. “We tried. And you said it yourself: He wasn’t very bright.”
Ykka nods. For some reason she glances up at you for a moment. You have no idea what lesson you’re supposed to take from this. “Unlock the manacles,” she says. You’re confused for an instant before you realize it’s an order for the guards. One of them moves over to speak to the other, and they start sorting through a ring of keys. Then Ykka looks disgusted with herself as she says heavily, “Who’s on quartermaster duty today? Memsid? Tell him and some of the other Resistants to come handle this.” She jerks her head toward Phauld.
Everyone goes still. No one protests, though. The Hunters have been finding more game and forage, but Castrima has a lot of people who need more protein than they’ve been getting, and the desert is coming. It was always going to come to this.
After a moment of silence, though, you step over to Ykka. “You sure about this?” you ask softly. One of the guards comes over to unlock Danel’s ankle chains. Danel, who tried to kill every living member of Castrima. Danel, who tried to kill you.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ykka shrugs. Her voice is loud enough that the prisoners can hear her. “We’ve been short on Strongbacks since Rennanis attacked. Now we’ve got six replacements.”
“Replacements who’ll stab us – or maybe just you – in the back first chance!”
“If I don’t see them coming and kill them first, yeah. But that would be pretty stupid of them, and I killed the stupidest one for a reason.” You get the sense that Ykka’s not trying to scare the Rennanis people. She’s just stating facts. “See, this is what I keep trying to tell you, Essie: The world isn’t friends and enemies. It’s people who might help you, and people who’ll get in your way. Kill this lot and what do you get?”
“Safety.”
“Lots of ways to be safe. Yeah, there’s now a bigger chance I’ll get shanked in the night. More safety for the comm, though. And the stronger the comm is, the better the chance we’ll all get to Rennanis alive.” She shrugs, then glances around at the stone forest. “Whoever built this is one of us, with real skill. We’re going to need that.”
“What, now you want to adopt…” You shake your head, incredulous. “Violent bandit ferals?”
But then you stop. Because once upon a time, you loved a violent pirate feral.
Ykka watches while you remember Innon and mourn him anew. Then, with remarkable gentleness, she says, “I play a longer game than just making it to the next day, Essie. Maybe you ought to try it for a change.”
You look away, feeling oddly defensive. The luxury of thinking beyond the next day isn’t something you’ve ever had much of a chance to try. “I’m not a headwoman. I’m just a rogga.”
Ykka tilts her head in ironic acknowledgment. You don’t use that word nearly as often as she does. When she says it, it’s pride. When you use it, it’s assault.
“Well, I’m both,” Ykka says. “A headwoman, and a rogga. I choose to be both, and more.” She steps past you, and throws her next words at you over her shoulder, as if they’re meaningless. “You didn’t think about any of us while you were using those obelisks, did you? You thought about destroying your enemies. You thought about surviving – but you couldn’t get beyond that. That’s why I’ve been so pissed at you, Essie. Months in my comm, and still all you are is ‘just a rogga.’”
She walks off then, yelling to everyone in earshot that the rest break is over. You watch until she vanishes amid the stretching, grumbling crowd, then you glance over at Danel, who’s since stood up and is rubbing the red mark on one of her wrists. There’s a carefully neutral look on the woman’s face as she watches you.
“She dies, you die,” you say. If Ykka won’t look after herself, you’ll do what you can for her.
Danel lets out a brief, amused breath. “That’s true whether you threaten me or not. Not like anybody else here would give me a chance.” She throws you a skeptical look, all her Sanzed pride completely intact despite the change in circumstances. “You really aren’t very good at this, are you?”