All Of Us - Part 1: Summer

Chapter 8 - Bargain struck

- Evangeline -

Someone just came in.

They approach and lift the drapes surrounding my cot. I can hear their quiet breathing as they look at me. My back is to them, so they cannot see my face, but they still stare at me intensely.

Tired of the useless attention, I flip around to my other side. Dæor.

The pouches under his eyes have gotten deeper and darker since I saw him last. His hair is messy and matted by persipiration; he gives off a distinct bodily odor. He still remains easy on the eyes, though.

"Come to see if your prisonner is still alive ?" I ask, emotion carefully weeded out of my voice. He inspects my face without bothering to reply.

"Show me your throat."

I comply, but only after having sent him a smoldering glare. He leans in and his fingers brush over the colored skin. I start and push his hand away.

"Do not touch me," I state, with what I hope is a defiant gaze. He looks at me blankly.

"He hurt you pretty bad. Don't talk."

"What do you mean, do not talk ?" I exclaim, but my voice breaks at the last word. His expression turns murderous.

"I mean shut up. You're not in a state to talk."

I exhale through my nose. "Alright, I will stop talking, but only if you give me something in exchange."

"What ?" he asks, clearly exasperated. Now that I think about it, he did already seem annoyed when he came in. Maybe the "yelling at Thet" was more difficult than I first gauged.

I was going to demand for something, anything that would help me get out - I truly was. But out came: "I want you to tell me why Thet did such a thing."

Dæor is visibly taken aback.

"And then you'll promise to shut your gob ?" he checks. "Mouth," he adds after seeing my perplexed features.

I am about to nod, but then I think of one other thing: "And books. I want to be able to read when I am in the cell."

His face doesn't change expression. My palms are suddendly sweaty. I realize now that if I had asked for a shifty object, he would have figured out and not only have denied it to me, but probably would have reinforced the security as well. Books or a story will not help me escape - but the odds to this pact seem high nevertheless.

"Do we have an agreement ?" My voice is steady.

Slowly, he nods and I breathe a sigh of relief.

He clears his thorat and begins:

"I don't know for sure why Thet attacked you. He refused to tell me. But I have an inkling as to why he might've." He pauses, and restarts: "Thet has been a rebel since the very beginning. When he arrived, he was with Isaac, another guy who joined. They had been friends even when they were Servs. When their families tried to run away from their Isfalt, they were the only two who escaped. They spent a while in the dirty neighbourhoods of Epoh, then ended up here. They believed in the cause and they needed the food. We took them in.

The one thing they had was each other. No family, no other friends, no possessions. Even when they joined us, they stayed very close. But at the Summer Palace battle, Isaac died. Thet must have blamed you, not being able to turn anyhere else."

He closes his mouth and his words hang in the air. My heart is beating at a slow pace, but everything he just told me is racing through my head. His story... It is not the nicest. Yet Dæor is acting as if it is banal. His face is calm, almost expressionless, even. It must be terrible, to lose a loved one in such a way. I turn my head away. I would not know.

"I'll get you the books." He gets up, and with further ado, leaves.

*****

"The Opening will remain a period of turmoil in Methron's history. Yet it brought us understanding of the workings of the Continent, previously so far away from us..."

I sigh. I find it impossible to focus on anything this afternoon, let alone read, even though this book is far different from anything I have ever encountered. The Opening... I have heard the term before, but only from hushed voices, whispers behind columns. I never learned about it from anyone - only caught the word in passing. The only thing I know about it is that it is not to be mentionned. My fingers shut the book closed. My mind keeps drifting back to other things - how can I concentrate ?

Thet... I am not granting him my pardon for what he did, but, strangely, I feel pity. It is a strange, unfamailiar feeling to have. Not much is worthy of my compassion at the Castle, I must admit. But his story, on the other hand... I was always told that Servs were honored to serve their Isfalt. I never cared about it, in all honesty. But now that I do find myself thinking about it, it does sound a bit strange, a bit... off. Like a musical note which does not ring just about right. I was taught that these Servs were content with the pride and dignity which came with serving the Crown and their Isfalt. But then again, information is carefully filtered before it reaches my ears - one of the few things I know with dead certainty. Maybe what I learned about Servdom was a lie.

I let myself fall from my upright position back into the bed. All these thoughts... A feeling of mild discomfort clamps down on me, and I cannot shake it off.

No matter. I need to focus on my plan.

Survival before all, remember ?