Ahmad

  Ahmad’s life has been fairly simple. Fulfilled, even interesting, but not complicated. He’s faced the normal things that are part of growing up—parents who don’t understand, girls who either don’t like him or like him too much, fights with friends, and eventually some of the minor politics of city life. Who makes the scout team and who doesn’t. Whether the scout captains are playing favorites. Who is trying to worm their way onto what council. Which city circle is vying for more than its share of resources.

  None of these problems have produced any serious moral quandary, however.

  Until now.

  He’s never had any reason to doubt whether life in Sunward is right for him. Once, when he was younger, he visited Cabe’s Falls with his uncle. No one in Sunward visits Cabe’s Falls more than a few times if it can be helped—they don’t want to become recognizable, or give any hint that they live nearby—so it was only once, but it was enough. He tasted the bland food and saw the people there. They all looked pale and exhausted, even the healthy ones—that is, those not actively in the grip of the Pall. Their world seemed bleak and grey, even if they did get to live directly under the sky. It was a short visit but he’s never forgotten it.

  When the three travelers entered his scouting area, he wasn’t nervous: only curious. When he escorted them down the long stairway into the Sunward City domes, he felt a sort of pride. They won’t find out the real secrets of this place unless they stay, but he knows enough to know it’s an impressive sight.

  He assumed that once they understood about the city, they would understand the need for secrecy and forgive the use of restraints. He was surprised, and even confused, when they didn’t warm up to him after a few days. Tali, the girl close to his own age, has only gotten more cranky and venomous over that time.

  When she steps out of the door with a mug of water during his guard shift, she greets him with what the guards have already come to know as her usual surliness.

  “Did you volunteer for this job? Keeping strange women prisoner make you hard or something?”

  He blinks, unprepared to counter the accusation. Not knowing what else to do, he ignores it and invites her to sit.

  The conversation that follows is tense, and mostly focused on whether he can leave Sunward City if he chooses. Truthfully, it’s never occurred to him that anyone would try. Why, after you’ve been here, would you ever want to live on the surface, where the station inhabitants seem to be in a constant struggle to survive?

  When he expresses this, her expression is incredulous.

  “Do you guys put meds in the water or something? No place is that good, least of all the kind of place that doesn’t let you leave.”

  She’s still thinking of it in terms of “letting”, which he supposes is fair considering she’s talking to the guard outside her door. But, he reminds himself, it’s a temporary perspective.

  “This place is… special,” he says. He wants to tell her more—wants to explain that she’ll love what she can do here if she just stays long enough to find out—but he bites back the words.

  “There is a whole city full of people who will die if we don’t get out of here,” she says, and the fear in her voice is sharp and real. Then she explains what she means, and a knot of anxiety forms in his own stomach. Her reticence comes into clearer focus. If even half of the horror she describes is real, it’s no wonder she wants to go.

  “Shit. I didn’t know that.”

  She wants to say more, maybe even to shout at him, but the appearance of Annalise checking the night lights distracts her.

  She watches the woman, her face creased in a frown. Ahmad watches Tali, waiting to see if she’ll understand what she’s seeing. He can tell by her expression of growing wonder that she does.

  “So that’s the mage,” Tali says quietly after Annalise is out of earshot.

  He keeps his eyes on her face. Unsure what to say, he opts for silence.

  After several more minutes, she turns to him.

  “You don’t, by any chance, have an unhealthy attraction to children do you?”

  If he could have made a list of all possible questions she might ask him, this would not have appeared on any page of it.

  “Excuse me?”

  His disgust seems to answer the question to her satisfaction. She sighs, resigned.

  “Didn’t think so. Xan says she won’t murder you unless you do. Although I suppose something equally evil would also qualify.”

  He surprises himself by laughing.

  “Good to know, I guess.”

  “If any of the other guards are super evil, feel free to let me know.”

  It’s a strange way to tell someone you’re starting to let the ice thaw a bit, but he’ll take what he can get.

  “Will do.” Then, after another pause, “Have you told Rowena?”

  “Told her what?”

  “About the city. The people who will die?”

  She huffs, her scowl returning to its customary place. “You think that’s not the first thing I told her? Of course I cogging told her.”

  Okay then. Rowena must have a plan. She’s not going to hold the travelers hostage with that information.

  He nods, reassured. “She’ll come up with something. Just be patient.”

  “It’s been three days,” Tali snaps. Ahmad bids the momentary pleasure of eased tension a fond farewell. “She hasn’t even scheduled a Council meeting.”

  “She will. It takes time.” It feels like it shouldn’t take time, especially if the situation is urgent, but he’s not going to tell her that. No need to get her even more worked up when Rowena surely has something in the works that he doesn’t know about.

  “Oh okay.” Her tone is bitter. “I’m sure the bloodless husks of my friends will be extremely comforted by the knowledge that we couldn’t save them because of scheduling conflicts.”

  Ahmad looks at what he thinks of as the sky, searching for some compelling response to that. The lights glow unhelpfully back at him.

  When he fails to respond, Tali sighs again, and stands.

  He wants to say something. “I’m sorry” or “It will be alright” but he can feel the weightlessness of those words. He needs something solid. Something meaningful.

  He’s still thinking fruitlessly about what that might be a long time after she’s gone back inside.

  “So,” Rowena says, handing Ahmad a cup of tea before taking a seat on the sofa across from him. “What’s on your mind?”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Ahmad shifts uncomfortably in his chair and sips the tea. Coming here seemed like a good idea at first, but now that she’s sitting there, ready to listen, he’s finding himself unexpectedly nervous.

  Feedback and questions from Sunward City citizens is welcome and encouraged by council members, or so the bulletins claim. In practice, Ahmad isn’t sure that applies to a 23-year-old less than two years out of scout training. Rowena may not look kindly on his minding business that’s not his own.

  Since talking with Tali, he’s been checking the Community Schedule on his slate several times per day, waiting for the announcement about an upcoming Council Meeting, but none has yet appeared.

  The travelers have been confined to their temporary quarters for more than a week now, and every day that passes with no word from the council, Tali’s anxiety visibly increases. He wants to at least be able to tell her that some movement is being made on her behalf.

  They’ve talked several times since the first night she came and sat with him. In fact, she’s come out to talk to him every time he’s been assigned a guard shift since then. He doesn’t think it’s anything special about him that makes that happen, she just needs someone to talk to.

  Her caustic greetings haven’t cooled, but it’s almost become a joke between them. He’s begun to look forward to discovering what new vile insult she will hurl instead of saying hello, even as he dreads bringing her the news that, once again, there is no news.

  “Why?” she demanded last time they spoke. “Are they just planning to keep us here until we forget or die of boredom or something?”

  Finding himself unable to give a plausible answer, Ahmad had resolved he would simply ask. Now, he’s in Rowena’s living room and she’s looking at him with that quizzical smile, and he has to actually do that.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” he says. “You know, on short notice.”

  “No thanks needed. That’s what’s the council is for. Am I right in supposing this is about our visitors? I hope they’re not giving you any trouble.”

  “Yes,” he says before his brain has fully processed the question. “I mean no! Not at all. They’ve been no trouble.”

  Rowena looks relieved. “Well that’s a blessing at least.” She glances at her slate sitting on the sofa beside her and Ahmad realizes she is doing her best to be patient.

  “I just wanted to ask if the Council Meeting about them has been scheduled yet.” They both know that he knows it hasn’t. “They’ve been here a while and…” he trails off.

  Ahmad is not known among his friends or fellow scouts as someone prone to nervousness. That it should choose now of all times to manifest as one of his traits is more than a little inconvenient.

  Rowena frowns in concern. “Is their stay putting stress on the scout rotations? Tabitha led me to believe it wouldn’t be an issue but if you need to be rotated out…”

  He wonders for a second if the mention of his scout captain is intentional, then dismisses the thought. He’s being uncharitable. Rowena has no reason to want to intimidate him, and it’s not her fault he apparently finds her intimidating.

  “No, no nothing like that. The schedule is fine.” Might as well get to the point, he decides. “I’ve spoken to one of the visitors a few times, and she seems highly distressed. She told me she and her friends are trying to help save a city full of people. I wanted to make sure you knew that’s why they’re so anxious to leave.”

  “I’m aware that’s their claim,” she says.

  He frowns. “You think they’re lying?” Tali’s desperation had seemed real enough to him.

  “Not necessarily. I don’t know enough to draw a conclusion one way or another. It does seem like a bit of a stretch.”

  “I mean, our entire city would seem like a stretch to anyone else,” Ahmad retorts. “And she seemed to really be upset.”

  “I don’t doubt she is. Right now she believes she’s our prisoner.”

  The word makes him flinch a little but… he has been sitting guard outside her quarters to prevent her going anywhere or talking to anyone.

  “I kind of see her point.” He says it with a laugh, softening the words.

  “Ahmad.” Rowena gives him a scrutinizing look. “You understand why we have to do that, don’t you? The security and secrecy of this city is paramount. If we put it at risk, even with good intentions, we could lose everything that makes it special.”

  He’s nodding with her, reassuring her he understands.

  “Of course. Absolutely. I just… the way she described what happened to those people…”

  “I know. It bothered me too.” She takes a sip of her tea and he realizes his is getting cold. He takes a sip as well.

  “The thing is though, if they are telling the truth, then shouldn’t we have a council meeting sooner than later? Just in case?”

  Her smile is sad now. Like he’s a child she doesn’t want to disappoint.

  “If she’s telling the truth, those people are going to die. No matter what we do.”

  “But Tali and her friends think they can save them.”

  “How? Do they have a plan?”

  “Well she didn’t tell me that but…”

  “Because they didn’t seem to when I talked to them. They’re three people Ahmad. It will take weeks for them to make it to the city in question on foot and if they’re not already too late, which is a big if, what will they do? Where will they put a few thousand citizens where they can’t be found?”

  “Isn’t that how this city started? Or something like it.”

  She sighs. “This city was much, much smaller back then. And we found this place,” she gestures vaguely around them both “before we decided to leave. It took months and months of planning and preparation.”

  He barely takes in this last part. He’s having a burst of inspiration, triggered by the last thing he said.

  “What about us?”

  “What about us? Us who?”

  “Us. Sunward.” He repeats her “all of this” gesture. “They’re only three people, but there are thousands of us. And we have…”

  “We have,” she says gently, staying him with a hand on his arm, “a lot of gardeners, and mothers, and barbers, and cooks. Not a lot of good against the Citadel.”

  “And scouts.”

  “And scouts,” she agrees. “Whose job it is to keep all those gardeners and cooks safe. Even if we could send some with the strangers, how many people do you think the Citadel will send to kill an entire city? What weapons will they have? We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Even with…”

  “And after they’ve killed our scouts, how long before they wonder where they came from? How long before they find out?”

  Ahmad stares into his cold tea, not wanting to admit defeat.

  “So if we can’t do anything, what about the visitors? Do they just stay on house arrest? We just let their friends die?”

  “I’m not saying that. Not necessarily. What I’m telling you is that the Council will have a huge number of factors to take into account before we make a decision. All of them life or death.”

  She leans forward, giving his arm a comforting pat.

  “I appreciate you bringing this to me Ahmad. If guarding the visitors is too much for you, I can…”

  “No,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. Thank you for taking the time to hear me out.”

  He means it. She didn’t have to walk him through all that. She could have brushed him off, told him to mind his own business or wait till the Council meeting.

  He’s walking home before he realizes she still has given no indication when that meeting might take place.

  Medore

  Medore leans against the kitchen door, watching her partner’s shoulders subtly relax as the door closes behind Ahmad.

  “He’s right you know.”

  Medore and Rowena have been together ten years. Rowena has been head of the Council for six months. It’s not that she’s changed in that time—the calculation and coldness has always been there somewhere, always a little worrying—it’s just that now those traits have been given focus, scope, room to blossom.

  Medore has watched quietly, analyzing data and rarely interjecting, as is her way. She knows a decision is coming eventually, but she has never been one to act quickly, or on a swell of emotion. She will watch, she will wait, and she will occasionally offer gentle opportunities for Rowena to choose one course or another.

  When the time comes for her to leave, they will both have known it is coming. The decisions that bring them there will be knowing, intentional, weighed and measured. There will be a choice, as there often is, between love and ambition. The possibility that Rowena may choose the latter wounds Medore, but not deeply. She has lived long enough to understand that if that is the case it won’t be due to any lack on her part. And she is preparing methodically for that eventuality, with gentleness for them both.

  “About which part?” Rowena doesn’t look back at her but continues watching the door, as if it were a window through which she could study her recently departed visitor. Not a significant choice, but a choice. A tiny data point to add to the analysis.

  Medore moves into the living room, taking an empty cup from a hook on the wall, and pours herself a cup of tea from the pot on the table. Ahmad’s cup still sits there, cold and mostly full. She settles down next to Rowena on the sofa.

  “You’re dragging your feet to schedule a meeting.”

  “And you think I shouldn’t.”

  “That depends on why, I suppose. Examine yourself, my love.”

  It’s a saying they used frequently in the early days, often half in jest. Rowena’s smile contains real warmth—the kind reserved for her alone.

  “I was telling him the truth. If this endangered city exists, and if we break decades of precedent to let strangers with even some of our secrets take them outside our walls, it won’t do any good. They won’t be able to stop what’s going to happen. And we’ll have risked our safety for nothing.”

  Medore takes a sip of her tea. It’s strong and sweet and she pauses to enjoy it before responding.

  “And if they stay here until it’s too late, kept on house arrest and delayed at every turn, you think they’ll be gladder to stay with us? That the community will absorb them with no resentment?”

  Rowena shrugs. “They wouldn’t be the first to abandon resistance once they find out what we have to offer.”

  “Or,” Medore says gently, “they could be even more incensed when they find out. They will think what Ahmad thinks—that we had the means to help even if they could not.”

  “I know,” Rowena says quietly, looking at her tea instead of Medore. “It’s not an easy decision to make.”

  “I think you may be forgetting what the purpose of the Council is. Your being its head does not mean the decision is yours alone.”

  Rowena nods, then leans against Medore, resting her head affectionately on her shoulder. A tiny choice. A tiny data point.

  “And that,” says Rowena after a moment, “is why I need you.”