8. Tira

Flamboyant Tirans strolled along he square’s cobbled expanse. Some browsed, arm in arm. Other stood together in groups, laughing and talking. Artists sketched caricatures of their customers, and musicians played together. Under the spotlight of one large lamp a crowd of big-booted men, arms linked and holding aloft mugs of ale, sang a lively Tiran tune with gusto. They sounded off-key, even to Tien’s unpractised ear, and did not appear to know all the words.

Some young ladies looked on with amusement and applauded their efforts. Tien couldn’t help staring at the dark-haired Tiran girls. One had pinned her hair into a soft knot at the top of her head. The style looked effortless, but Tien was certain it would have taken hours to create, for dozens of colourful beads had been painstakingly woven into it. They glinted and sparkled in the lamplight. Another girl had twisted an elaborate braid around her crown. Her remaining hair bounced in ringlets about her shoulders. Beads, jewels, or flowers adorned each dainty head. Even the girls’ faces were mesmerizing. Twin moons of rouge accentuated high cheekbones. Their lips shimmered crimson. Generously-applied kohl created the illusion of huge, depthless eyes. The Tiran girls dressed simply, wearing cotton shirts and black pants that flared at the bottom. A vivid hand-woven strip of fabric was knotted around each waist.

Like a flock of exotic birds, they preened and giggled, their laughter as pretty and delicate as the tinkle of their bangles. How elegant, thought Tien, gazing enviously at their shining heads, as she walked past the girls. What elaborate patterns in those belts. Papa’s right, they must have such tiny fingers! She snuck a comparative look down at her own broad hands with their squat fingers, before rubbing them self-consciously down her hips. An Aryk’s hands betrayed their heritage as surely as the mark on their necks.

They reached the street vendors, and the sizzle of roasting meat made Tien’s mouth water. As Fen reached into her tunic and pulled out a cloth purse, Tien remembered that she had dropped her own purse when she had been dragged from Eunaat’s cart. It will have been long spent, she thought dismally.

“Three meat pras, please.” Fen told the vendor. She offered a nickel to the woman who stood behind a hot griddle, flipping large thin pancakes.

The woman wiped a hand on her faded apron before taking the coin. She gave the three of them only a cursory glance as she pocketed it. But as her eyes took in the scar that mangled the left side of Fen’s face, her lip curled. She stepped back, widening the gap between them.

“Defects,” she muttered, staring at Fen as though she was a bug she wanted to squash.

Tien recoiled from the hatred in the woman’s voice, horrified at her insolence. Fen didn’t appear to have even heard. She stood still, her expression mild, watching while the woman threaded hot meat from thin metal skewers into the centre of each pancake and rolled them up. Still clucking her tongue disapprovingly, the woman thrust them at her. Fen thanked her politely and then gave one to both Saka and Tien.

They wandered over to an empty bench in a well-lit area. The three of them sat and nibbled the pancake, savouring the treat. “We’ll be on our way soon,” Saka said, through a mouthful of pancake. “But we hope to get a message first.”

Of course, Tien told herself. They have somewhere to go. But what about me, where do I go from here? She sighed, as she felt her stomach begin to churn. It was becoming a familiar sensation. I hope their messenger takes a while to get here, she thought. I need time to make a plan. She licked some of the meat’s juice from her fingers. S

aka turned to face her, and it was then that Tien noticed the three small gold dots on his forehead. She looked over at Fen, who also bore a row of gold dots. The mark of a high caste Tiran, she remembered. Well then, what crime did Saka and Fen commit, for them to be thrown into a common jail?

“Tien, how did you end up in a Tiran jail?,” Saka was asking. His question took her by surprise, and she blinked stupidly at him.

“We are on your side, Tien.” Fen spoke in a soothing voice. She paused to swallow her mouthful. “We are against the changes Phan has brought to Pendelethe.”

Tien nodded. She closed her eyes briefly collecting her thoughts. Then she began to talk about the day of her capture. The words sounded jumbled and unclear to her own ears, but the others listened without interrupting.

“Those Raseen that you met at Pojabe,” said Fen, when Tien had finished. “What were they like?”

An image of the two Raseen arose quite clearly in Tien’s mind. “Well, the Raseen in charge was the nicer of the two,” she said, upon reflection. The other one, Maligo, had seemed to relish the role of inflicting terror. Her flesh crawled at the memory of his blackened eyes and his cruel laughter.

“You wouldn’t happen to remember their names?” Saka asked. Tien stiffened. Although Saka’s tone was casual, Tien sensed that somehow this was a pivotal question. Saka was too interested. But why?

“The officer was called Maligo,” she replied slowly. “But the big one….” She could picture him, leaning over to look at her neck. It was almost as if he’d been shielding her from Maligo’s scrutiny. And then, how was it that he’d missed her mark in full sunlight? Saka had seen it immediately, even in the darkness of their cell? What was his name? It had begun with an R and ended in A. Was it Roona? Roxa?

“Sorry, I don’t remember,” she told Saka, interested to see that his face fell slightly. I have to be careful about revealing what I know, she warned herself, even if it doesn’t seem important.

“Did you get a good look at him?,” Saka persisted.

Tien tried to think strategically. I can describe him perfectly. But is it in my best interest to tell them? Her head was beginning to feel like it was made of stone, and she was struggling to hold it upright. It was hard to resist Saka’s questions.

“He was tall, about your height,” she told him. “He wore a Raseen’s uniform and braids. I remember he was burnt dark from the sun.” She closed her eyes so she could see him in her mind again. There had been something else about the man. What was it? “Gold spots, dark skin” she murmured. And then she remembered. She opened her eyes and looked at them with a satisfied smile. “Red eyebrows. He had red eyebrows.”

“OK, good,” was all Saka said, but Tien did not miss the excited expression in his eyes, or the look that passed between him and Fen. She gazed at them, wondering how they knew of this man, why he was so important. Suddenly a thought came to her; a thought that stood out like a beacon in the thickening fog in her head.

“Was it he who put the cloak on me?” she asked. Saka and Fen exchanged another surprised glance. An approving grin broke over Saka’s face.

“You’re quick,” he said. “And yes, I think he did; in the hope that one of our people would notice you in it.”

“Your people?,” Tien stuttered. Saka and Fen had just claimed to be against Phan’s regime. So how could they be in cahoots with the Raseen. It didn’t make sense. Were Saka and Fen a new breed of Raseen? “Who are you? What does your group…?“

She broke off, as Saka’s expression froze. He was staring at something behind her. Tien’s heart began to thump loudly. Then she saw a smile dimple Saka’s face. “Fen, we’re back on track,” Saka muttered. “Don’t look now, but we have an incoming message around the corner of that house!“

Tien turned to see, but she could not see anything unusual. A message? Where? She fixed her gaze on the house that Saka had pointed out. Several minutes went by. Finally a tiny nose poked out from the side of the house, followed by a pair of black eyes and an open panting mouth. Their eyes met. The startled creature hopped backwards, disappearing from view.

© 2006 by Shelly Taylor