Alexandria (5 page)

She moves to a broad doorway, leading to a sconcelit corridor, and beckons the girls to follow. Haylen is at the front of the line and her feet slip nervously across the stone and begin to move her body toward the door. The female stewards go along as well, and Nisaq takes his place by the exit.

“All right, young men, follow me. Let’s get you cleaned.”

The hallway is a sheer cavern that extends off into hazy gloom in both directions. Dreary candlelight turns the pale sandstone a ruddy orange, illuminating ghostly the paintings and furs hung along the walls. Some of the paintings depict the blue-eyed man.

Jack glances to his left and sees the line of girls shambling away, following Ezbeth to some unknown destination within the monstrous structure. Nisaq leads the boys to the right and they follow without contest. Their path cuts left and they find themselves in an open space in the corner of the Temple. A small open door allows a shaft of pale blue light to cut through the dimness. A few of the boys silently consider making a run for it. None of them do.

They dogleg around a side hall and enter the murky and humid baths. A kettle boils above the mortared fireplace. A steward uses it to warm the bathwater in the low trough that stretches the length of the skinny chamber.

“Take those rags off of you,” orders Nisaq.

The numb and brain-addled boys peel off their rancid clothes, losing their balance and stumbling around, then throw them away in a basket on the floor. The boys cover themselves in embarrassment and the basket is taken away for torching.

Nisaq gives further instructions and they obey, spooning ladlefuls of water over their dirty and tired bodies. They scrub with cloths laid out on the wash trough and finally rinse with warm clean water, slicking off the last layer of grime and watching it swirl down and out of the baths.

“Good. This wasn’t so bad, was it?”

A few of the boys murmur soft responses. A steward gives them rough towels and they dry themselves.

“Follow me this way.”

Two long benches cling to the walls of the clothier’s chamber. Each boy receives a little bound bundle containing open shirts and simple rough pants. They need no command and quickly begin dressing themselves in the new attire.

“Form a line when you’re dressed and Railek will help you find boots that fit.”

As each new boy steps forward, Railek looks ponderingly at their feet and selects a pair of high-cut leather boots. The cleaned and clothed boys sit on the benches and lace up.

“Everyone stand, let me look at you.” Nisaq moves down the line, inspecting each one with businesslike acumen. “You are… one of the finest looking groups we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

The boys shuffle and cast their eyes about.

“Hungry?”

They nod and murmur.

“Follow me.”

Nisaq guides them to the dining hall one level above and they snake around the wood beam partition that divides the room. Cozy torchlight glimmers, shining down on the tremendous banquet that has been laid out for them. The smell makes them delirious.

“Take as much as you want,” says Nisaq. “We want you to be strong for the ceremony tonight.”

Roasted meat, vegetables, and flatbread—all still steaming. Cautiously, they step forward and fill their plates, eyes wide and ravenous. Nisaq arranges them around a large redwood table and they sit frozen, staring vacantly at their food.

Jack drinks down a cup of water and the liquid sloshes in his empty stomach. He tests a small bite, wondering if this is just some vicious ploy to poison them all, or perhaps, more darkly, if they are being served some previous batch of stolen children. The meat is delicious, seared and salty. Venison. He takes another bite. His dormant stomach comes alive with hunger and he begins stuffing bite after bite into his mouth. Around him the other boys are doing the same.

Ezbeth appears at the entrance, leading the band of girls. They curve around the partition and enter the opposite side of the dining hall, scrubbed and wearing fresh clean dresses of simple linen, with little leather slippers on their feet. Ezbeth guides them through the same process and soon they are huddled over their plates, devouring every last scrap.

Ezbeth and Nisaq confer privately by the entrance.

“How are they?” she asks.

“Fine. A fine group.”

“Have you had any trouble from this one,” she says, pointing to Jack. “He may be violent.”

Nisaq breathes deeply, thinking. “He’s calm. I think he’ll come around. We’ll fix him if he doesn’t. And the girls?”

“They’re lovely.”

“Wonderful.”

Ezbeth takes the girls to a rough-hewn lodge, built off to the side of the amphitheatre, overlooking the bluffs, a temporary structure while the Temple dormitory is constructed. Stewards corral them inside like little ducklings while two sentries stand guard.

“Come in, girls, and see your new home,” sings Ezbeth. “You can each pick your own bed and start getting settled in.”

The girls take hesitant steps through the lodge, stealing cautious glances toward their captors. Ezbeth and the stewards smile and wave them forward. They choose their bunks and stand nervously by, awaiting further instruction. Lia picks one in the back corner, as far away from the door as she can get.

Jeneth stops in the middle of the room and turns to face Ezbeth.

“Why did you bring us here?” she asks, her voice cracking. “Who are you?”

A few of the girls shush here brusquely, fearful her questions might trigger another windfall of violence from the killers stationed at the door.

“It’s okay,” says Ezbeth, “What is your name, young lady?”

“Jeneth.”

“Jeneth, those questions and many others will be answered tonight at the welcoming ceremony. Right now, all you need to do is make yourself at home.”

“This isn’t my home.” Her voice is firmer now, stronger.

“Jeneth, shut up.”

The other girls step back instinctually and press their backs to the walls.

Ezbeth’s demeanor remains calm and cheerful.

“I know it doesn’t feel like your home now. But it will. That I can promise.” She strides to the door, turning back before she leaves. “You have some time to rest—use it. We’ll come for you shortly.”

Their captors exit and the girls can hear the bar being slid into place outside, locking them in. Silence falls on the lodge. The little wallflowers, as if drawn by magnetism, gather in the center and embrace each other wordlessly, their tender sobs the only communication any of them can manage for some time.

“Enjoy your quarters, boys. We worked hard to provide them.” Nisaq’s deep voice booms as he walks through the chamber, situated in the completed wing on the west side of the Temple. Narrow shafts cut through the sandstone reveal thin fragments of the outside world. “Take a bunk, whichever you like, they’re all the same. And probably more comfortable than what you’re used to sleeping on.”

The wide-eyed boys scatter around the room, staking tentative claims on the bunks.

“I think, with a little time, you’ll grow to like it here,” he says, letting his sparkling gaze dart about the room from face to terrified face. “For now, just relax. I’ll be back very soon.”

The door closes with a thud and they are locked inside.

Braylon is up first, coursing along the wall, peering out the thin vertical windows.

“We’re up high,” he says, “and I don’t think any of us could fit through these windows anyway.”

William furrows his brow. “What are you
talking
about?”

“Running. That’s what I’m talking about. Getting out of here.”

“They’ll kill us,” William says plainly. “You heard what he said to you back there. He’ll lock you up somewhere and kill you.”

Lathan starts crying again, begging for his parents through choked, ragged breaths. Jack puts his arm around him, and scrawny Lathan pushes him away and buries his face in the mattress.

Aiden chimes in. “William is right. There’s too many of them, we’re not strong enough. Besides, we can’t run and leave the girls.”

Braylon ponders this. He moves to the door and slides his hand along the doorjamb, squinting, trying to see through to the hallway. Cupping his hands, he puts his ear to the door and listens.

“I think they’re gone.”

“They’re not gone. They’re going to kill us.”

“They’re not going to kill us,” says Jack. Everyone turns and looks at him. “They would have done it by now… right? Why would they bring us all the way here just to kill us?”

William’s mind wheels with murderous conspiracy. “What if they kill us tonight at that ceremony they talked about?”

They look to Jack, who remains silent.

Aiden sinks to the floor and buries his head in his hands.

“So were just supposed to sit here,” Braylon spits, accusatory. “Sit here and wait for them to come back?”

“Where would we run?” asks Creston from the corner. “We don’t even know where we are. There’s nothing but forest. Does anyone even know how to get back to the village?”

Braylon swivels to face him. “The village is
gone
. It’s burned and gone, and so are our parents.”

His words cut deep and Creston withdraws, tears welling up all over again.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Braylon. Maybe we’ll have a chance to run, but this isn’t it.”

“Jack, what do you think?”

Jack works the puzzle in his mind, playing out different scenarios. None look promising. “I think our best chance is to do what they say. At least till we know what’s going on.”

“So none of you want to fight?”

The boys are shamefaced at this. Braylon glowers at them and kicks the edge of his bed, splintering the wood and knocking out one of the crosspieces. It flies across the room and chocks off the wall. The door bursts open immediately and Nisaq storms in, flanked by two warriors. He seizes Braylon and jerks him toward the door.

“Let me go.”

“I don’t like doing it this way.
I warned you.”
Nisaq shouts in his face, nose to nose. “You’ll go in the pit tonight and see how you like it. Would anyone like to join him?” He cocks his head around with wild eyes flaring.

There are no volunteers.

He passes Braylon rudely to the warriors, who grab his arms and whisk him from the room against his curses and protests.

“This was your first test and you’ve failed. Any more talk of escaping and you can join your friend. Have I made myself clear?”

The boys gawk at him, mortified.

“When I ask you a question I expect an answer.
Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes…” they mumble.

“Good.”

Nisaq pivots and leaves, slamming the door shut.

They plant themselves on their bunks and fixate on the door, beyond which they can hear the cries of their friend become a faint echo. They sit immobile and listen to each other breathe, afraid to even look at one another.

After an eternity, Nisaq returns and finds a room full of obedient boys. Bolts of anxiety ricochet through their guts as they see the cadre of warriors standing at attention in the corridor, a brilliant crimson stripe painted straight down the center of each one, like a holiday ribbon bisecting their heads and torsos. The sashes they wear no longer contain utensils of murder—they are decorative, embellished with bits of shiny ornate metal.

“Stand up.”

They obey.

“In just a moment you are going to follow me,” says Nisaq, his sonorous voice full of warmth and honey. “I expect you to carry yourselves with respect and dignity. I will show you where to sit, and you will sit there quietly. You will not speak unless you are spoken to. Do you understand this?”

“Yes,"
they say in unison.

A radiant smile spreads across Nisaq’s hard face.
“Good.
This way.”

The boys line up and follow him down the hallway, tensely aware that one of their brethren is missing. They spoke not a word since Braylon was ripped from the chamber, but the sick relief was palpable—relief that it was Braylon facing this unknown punishment and not themselves. Secretly, and not without guilt, some of them think he brought it upon himself anyway. The warriors spread out along the line and usher the boys through the winding Temple corridors to the amphitheatre, where they will finally meet the favorite son of this noble-blooded dynasty—King Arana Nezra the Second.