4 Chapter 4

As a memento to her friendship with Boone, she was driven to a new dedication for Carla and Baby Craig. It gave her a new sense of purpose.

To help Carla produce milk, she shared half of her own meal rations. And sometimes, she saw golden opportunities when the food tent was left unattended in rare, perfect moments. She pilfered an extra loaf or a cut of meat and always gave it to Carla.

Siri was not blind to her absences. Her eyes narrowed into daggers whenever she hurriedly reappeared for her chores.

"I would be careful if I were you."

She didn't grace Siri with a response.

"They notice everything. Their record-keeping is always perfect," Siri pressed.

"Do you keep those records for them?" she countered.

Siri was unphased. "The Centurion Silus will be here today. He takes a keen interest in the slaves."

"I am not afraid of Silus," she hissed darkly, turning her back to the seasoned slave as she remembered the brutish braggart of a man.

Siri was dauntless. "Well then the most evil man in the Wasteland should. He returns today as well."

"The most evil man?" she repeated, almost laughing.

Siri's voice was grave. "They say with one word he brought a whole city to its knees."

Her patience left her entirely. "Must have been a hell of a word."

***

Vulpes Inculta had returned to Fortification Hill. When he entered Caesar's tent to deliver news of the Mojave, Caesar was already preoccupied by another matter. Interestingly enough, a slave matter, which Vulpes thought strange. Caesar rarely took an interest in the affairs of slaves.

The slave girl was on her knees, and Vulpes barely glanced at her as he passed.

Caesar continued his interrogation. "If you did not steal the food, then you would not have been hiding while you were eating it. We already give you extra rations for the baby as it is, and you want more?"

Now Vulpes understood. Any theft was taken as a personal affront to the Caesar, but the girl remained obstinately silent.

"I believe thirty lashings will loosen your tongue."

Vulpes went to stand at his lord's right side and stared down at the profligate girl with dead eyes.

But once he laid eyes on the girl, his entire demeanor changed, and he tried suppressing the rise in his chest. The slave had a baby with her, which concerned him very little. But tied around this mother and her baby was a shawl fashioned into an infant sling. Black with pink and white flecks. Nearly threadbare now.

He recognized it and knew it did not belong to this profligate.

Keeping his outward expression unchanged, he tried a different tactic for his Caesar. He approached the profligate and ripped the shawl from her shoulders. She held fast to her child so it wouldn't fall.

Then Vulpes shoved the shawl in her face. His voice was muted but clear. "Where did you get this?"

Confusion clouded the woman's face. The possession of the shawl was not on her mind when she was being summoned to Caesar's tent for stealing food. "What business of that is yours?" she asked.

Vulpes straightened, keeping the shawl with him. He cast a meaningful gaze to Caesar. "I doubt a mother struggling with an infant would have the fortitude to steal from us."

Caesar immediately understood. "Who gave you the shawl, then?"

The profligate became even more tight-lipped than before, focusing her eyes on the floor.

Caesar looked as though he had grown bored with the interrogation. But Vulpes could not afford for his lord to lose his patience. He had to find the real owner of the shawl, and so it was somewhat of a task to hide his desperation.

So Vulpes approached the mother again and tore the child away from her. The infant began screeching and squawking in protest, and his mother buried her face in her hands in suffocating sobs. Vulpes was immune to the effects of both.

"Just one name. Just one word. If your child is so important to you."

Then finally, she choked out a single word. "Courier."

The word held no meaning for him, and he looked back to see if Caesar recognized the name.

"One of the newest slaves," his lord explained. "No name, just a job title." Then to one of the guards, Caesar ordered, "Bring her here."

Then Vulpes waited for this newest slave with tense anticipation.

The girl pulled into Caesar's tent was not one he expected to see again, despite the wild hope that the shawl in his hands offered. She fearlessly approached Caesar, eyes briefly flitting to the other slave girl sobbing on the ground, her baby now returned to her. She did not kneel, did not lower herself.

"What is your name?" Vulpes asked.

She transferred her gaze from the Caesar to him. She showed absolutely no sign of recognizing him. "I have no name," she answered.

"Everyone has a name," he said. "Whether we like it or not, whether it is bestowed upon us or we fashion them ourselves. A name separates us from the mindless mutations of the Wasteland."

"Some people call me Courier Six, some just Courier. It makes no difference to me. If I had any other name, I do not remember it, so it matters little now."

"You don't remember your name?" Caesar repeated dubiously.

The Courier looked back at his lord, and her eyes were just as empty as her voice. "You might have heard of my story. I was executed in some forgotten graveyard, shot in the head by some coward. But I came back from the grave, perhaps to seek some misplaced revenge. That is, of course, until I was plucked from my camp and fashioned into a slave here."

"Back from the grave," Caesar repeated, allowing his surprise and intrigue to color his tone. "I am impressed." Then Caesar took the shawl from Vulpes. "Does this belong to you?"

"It did."

"You'll be happy to know that we've recovered it from this thieving profligate. She stole something from us as well." Caesar threw the threadbare shawl to the ground.

Vulpes said nothing, fully aware that his lord was attempting to manipulate the truth with his twist of words.

But the Courier, some creature of integrity, was having none of it. She lifted her chin that much higher to correct Caesar. "Carla stole nothing. I gave her the shawl as well as the stolen food you are probably referring to. I stole it, not Carla."

For a moment, Vulpes wasn't sure if it was a quality of integrity or some hopeless pride that surged the tone in her voice. Whatever it was, it continued to impress Caesar.

"You stole the food," he repeated. "Be advised. The Legion does not tolerate thieves, but I do value honesty and fearlessness in the face of consequences." Caesar's smile was pained, if not annoyed. Vulpes wondered if he was suffering from another headache. Caesar continued, "Don't do it again. If anything else goes missing, I don't care what it is or who steals it, that baby will see its own cross."

The profligate mother reacted, of course, wailing deeper into her hands, but the Courier remained unmoved. "Is that all, lord Caesar?"

Caesar waved his hand impatiently. "Get out of my sight."