They come for the deserter before the girl arrives with breakfast.
He walks past, arms behind his back, hands clenched into fists. He would've been good-looking, weeks ago, before his cheeks had hollowed out and his hair got shaggy and the circles under his eyes grew.
Now, he looks like the rest of them, empty-eyed, tired, walking forward to his death because there is no other direction left to walk, or run, or crawl.
None of the guards who walk him out look at her as they pass.
She lays back on her bench and listens.
The crowd gathers, notes of fear, excitement, boredom drifting through the halls, faint after its journey through most of the building.
The noise gets louder, then recedes, then disappears entirely.
If she listens closely she can hear sobbing.
***
The girl doesn’t come alone, this time, but she’s carrying only one tray--the woman behind her is carrying two, one balanced on each arm. She looks like the girl, but older, grayer, sturdier.
The girl trots down to the spy’s cell, but the woman stops in front of Lucinda’s, offers one tray.
“My daughter won’t stop talking about you,” she says, and Lucinda takes the tray. Lucinda takes a few steps back, sinks to the floor, settles the tray in her lap. Bread, corned brahmin, a canteen of water. She drinks the water first, waits for the woman to continue. “So I supposed I should come see you myself.”
“Here I am,” Lucinda agrees.
“I know you,” the woman says, quiet. She doesn’t turn her head to watch the door, but tips it just enough to keep an ear on it. She sets the extra tray on the floor, leans one shoulder on the bars, crosses her arms. “I saw you with the healing women, once in a while.”
“My husband's first wife was with them more,” Lucinda offers. “She brought me along as an extra pair of hands, sometimes.”
“Aeliana, yes?” the woman asks.
“Yeah.”
“She delivers babies, most of the time. She brings the oldest girl along now, instead of you.”
“Valeria,” Lucinda says. She takes a bite of the bread--stale, at least a few days old, but it’s food. No grounds to be picky now. “She’s a good kid, learns quickly ,she’s smart.”
“I saw you a few times alone, too.” The woman leans in. “I never saw you deliver a baby then.”
“Sometimes a woman doesn't need a baby delivered to her arms,” Lucinda replies, quietly, into her heel of bread. “Sometimes it needs delivery elsewhere.”
The woman nods.
“I heard you did other, smaller things too. Broken bones, stitches, the like.”
“You fill in where you can.” Lucinda nods, turns her head to look at the woman from the corner of her eye. “Why do you bring it up?”
“We heard about what you did in the Mojave, if the stories are true.”
Lucinda nods, and the woman nods back. Down the hall, the girl laughs at something the spy said.
“And we heard about what you’ve done after.” She pauses a moment, blinks slowly, but doesn’t look away. “Most of us don’t--like the towns going like that, but.”
“Legion is Legion,” Lucinda says, nods again. She takes another bite of her bread.
“But we heard about the women, too.”
“Who told you?”
The woman snorts.
“Rumor got around about who you said you wanted picked, and then rumors got around about how they got treated. Heard you delivered a couple babies, got into a fight with someone, now I heard you bought your entire team. If you’re like Aeliana and Tatiana and the woman some of the rumors make you out to be, you didn’t buy them to bring them back here.”
“No,” Lucinda agrees. “And they’ve more than earned their freedom, by now, but I was called back here before I could actually pay out their wages to them. I’m going to do it when I get back.”
“When you get back. Do you have a plan?” The woman raises one eyebrow.
“Not yet,” Lucinda replies, scoops up her first bite of corned brahmin with the last bite of her bread. “But I’m working on it.”
“You have three days, including this, to come up with something.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, they switch people on crosses like clockwork. She goes up tomorrow, and you go up the day after. Simple.”
“Thank you,” Lucinda says, sighs, shoves the brahmin and bread into her mouth. “I appreciate the warning.”
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (101a/109b)
He walks past, arms behind his back, hands clenched into fists. He would've been good-looking, weeks ago, before his cheeks had hollowed out and his hair got shaggy and the circles under his eyes grew.
Now, he looks like the rest of them, empty-eyed, tired, walking forward to his death because there is no other direction left to walk, or run, or crawl.
None of the guards who walk him out look at her as they pass.
She lays back on her bench and listens.
The crowd gathers, notes of fear, excitement, boredom drifting through the halls, faint after its journey through most of the building.
The noise gets louder, then recedes, then disappears entirely.
If she listens closely she can hear sobbing.
The girl doesn’t come alone, this time, but she’s carrying only one tray--the woman behind her is carrying two, one balanced on each arm. She looks like the girl, but older, grayer, sturdier.
The girl trots down to the spy’s cell, but the woman stops in front of Lucinda’s, offers one tray.
“My daughter won’t stop talking about you,” she says, and Lucinda takes the tray. Lucinda takes a few steps back, sinks to the floor, settles the tray in her lap. Bread, corned brahmin, a canteen of water. She drinks the water first, waits for the woman to continue. “So I supposed I should come see you myself.”
“Here I am,” Lucinda agrees.
“I know you,” the woman says, quiet. She doesn’t turn her head to watch the door, but tips it just enough to keep an ear on it. She sets the extra tray on the floor, leans one shoulder on the bars, crosses her arms. “I saw you with the healing women, once in a while.”
“My husband's first wife was with them more,” Lucinda offers. “She brought me along as an extra pair of hands, sometimes.”
“Aeliana, yes?” the woman asks.
“Yeah.”
“She delivers babies, most of the time. She brings the oldest girl along now, instead of you.”
“Valeria,” Lucinda says. She takes a bite of the bread--stale, at least a few days old, but it’s food. No grounds to be picky now. “She’s a good kid, learns quickly ,she’s smart.”
“I saw you a few times alone, too.” The woman leans in. “I never saw you deliver a baby then.”
“Sometimes a woman doesn't need a baby delivered to her arms,” Lucinda replies, quietly, into her heel of bread. “Sometimes it needs delivery elsewhere.”
The woman nods.
“I heard you did other, smaller things too. Broken bones, stitches, the like.”
“You fill in where you can.” Lucinda nods, turns her head to look at the woman from the corner of her eye. “Why do you bring it up?”
“We heard about what you did in the Mojave, if the stories are true.”
Lucinda nods, and the woman nods back. Down the hall, the girl laughs at something the spy said.
“And we heard about what you’ve done after.” She pauses a moment, blinks slowly, but doesn’t look away. “Most of us don’t--like the towns going like that, but.”
“Legion is Legion,” Lucinda says, nods again. She takes another bite of her bread.
“But we heard about the women, too.”
“Who told you?”
The woman snorts.
“Rumor got around about who you said you wanted picked, and then rumors got around about how they got treated. Heard you delivered a couple babies, got into a fight with someone, now I heard you bought your entire team. If you’re like Aeliana and Tatiana and the woman some of the rumors make you out to be, you didn’t buy them to bring them back here.”
“No,” Lucinda agrees. “And they’ve more than earned their freedom, by now, but I was called back here before I could actually pay out their wages to them. I’m going to do it when I get back.”
“When you get back. Do you have a plan?” The woman raises one eyebrow.
“Not yet,” Lucinda replies, scoops up her first bite of corned brahmin with the last bite of her bread. “But I’m working on it.”
“You have three days, including this, to come up with something.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, they switch people on crosses like clockwork. She goes up tomorrow, and you go up the day after. Simple.”
“Thank you,” Lucinda says, sighs, shoves the brahmin and bread into her mouth. “I appreciate the warning.”