Chapter 13: Taran

The only thing this mockery of justice deserves is my disdain. Execution is nothing less than I expected. From the first illegal I brought into the city until this day I've known I was living on borrowed time. I say nothing, give no reaction as the Judge finishes his speech. At least he's quick and to the point. If I'm to be sent to my death, then the last thing I want is to listen to this man all day.

When the Judge rises, so do I.

"Sit down." Diogo's voice cuts through the room like the edge of a knife. I drop into my seat without argument. Now that I'm pretty much a dead woman I may as well prolong what little life I have left.

The Judge looks disgruntled but sits back down. Diogo steps to the table and places his fists on the heavy marble. His arms bulge and strain against his shirt. He lowers his eyebrows and pins the Judge with a glare.

"You will commute her sentence and remand her into my care."

The Judge's mouth pops open in surprise. He sputters for a moment before saying, "This is is not possible. Judgment has been passed and her sentence declared."

"Do you imagine that you have more authority in this city than I?" Diogo's voice is frighteningly calm. Even in my short acquaintance with him I know that people don't question him. That it would be dangerous to do so. And I suppose from Diogo's point of view, it would be just as dangerous to allow questions. Unrest would arise among the ranks and threaten his position.

"But you've never stepped in before. Sentencing is my job," the Judge protests.

"Consider this a new precedent then, if you must. I am the highest Authority in this city and my word is law."

Still the Judge persists, not wanting to give way. "But what will the people think!"

"They will think what I tell them to think," Diogo says coolly. "As they must do every other day."

I choke back an angry exclamation at Diogo's arrogance. I despise the way he treats his citizens like cattle. Still, I prefer to survive if that option is on the table. I seal my lips and listen as the two men speak.

"I am fast losing what little patience I possess, Judge. You will commute the Desert Wren's sentence and remand her into my custody. Henceforth I will be responsible for her." Diogo drops a hand to his belt where he has two weapons clearly displayed, a gun and a long, sheathed hunting knife.

It's clear that the Judge wants to continue arguing. It's also abundantly clear that to do so would be extremely bad for his health. He bows his head in acknowledgment and turns his glare toward me. His words are clipped as he says, "Taran  Desert Wren. Your sentence is commuted. You are henceforth remanded to the custody of Commander Diogo Fuentes, Warlord of the New Tucson Sanctuary."

He makes a note in his diary, stands to gather his items and leaves without another word, his robe swishing angrily behind him. I'm left sitting at Diogo's table, a little stunned and a lot nervous. Several hours ago I was eating a rushed breakfast of cactus juice and pheasant before setting out to climb the wall. Now I've essentially become the property of the single highest Authority in the city and beyond. The closest Sanctuary city is in New Sacramento. Which means that no one can threaten or contradict the man standing opposite me. He's the final word.

I try to wipe the look of dismay from my expression, fail, and finally say, "What now?"

He considers me. I suspect this situation is as new to him as it is to me. His home isn't filled with prisoners and he's not much of a people person that I can tell. I don't think he makes a habit of taking in stray criminals.

"You will obey my rules," he says sternly.

I try not to laugh but it bubbles out. I'm exhausted, hungry and his words seem hilarious. I can't remember the last time I obeyed anyone. Maybe my grandparents, but they'll be long dead by now. This thought sobers me. "No," I tell him, shaking my head. "You picked the wrong woman if you were looking for an obedient criminal."

He rubs a hand over his face before straightening. "The obedience is for your sake, Taran, not mine. You obey, you can live comfortably. You don't, and I will make sure you understand why obedience was the better path."

"Sure," I snort and look around. "So, am I supposed to be doing your dishes or what? Like some kind of slave?"

He glares down at me from his superior height. "You do not want to take a flip tone with me, girl. I am the man that stands between you and death. You should not be trying my patience."

I stare up at him, considering. Then I shrug. He's not wrong, but, "I don't know how to obey. I've been on my own since I was sixteen."

"What about your husband?" he asks. His tone is casual but his eyes and body language, they're anything but. He's invested in my answer. Wants to know about my husband.

I think about withholding everything, but there's not much point. He already knows I'm married, and he'll have to kill me if he wants a name. "I didn't live long under my husband's roof."

"When did you last see him?" Diogo demands, his body stiff, waiting for my answer.

"Five days ago," I tell him truthfully. I suspect our repertoire will become akin to a dance. He wants information and there is so much that I can't give him. Yet I don't want to lie. Lying can lead to giving more information than I intend if he starts untangling the truth from a web of lies. I must find a balance between the truth and protecting those that I care about, while somehow still holding onto my skin.

The truth about when I last saw my husband seems to strike him badly. His brow creases in annoyance and his muscles tighten. It bothers him that I have a husband I'm in contact with. I don't know what to say though. It would be far more unusual for a woman my age to be unwed than single. He seems to come to the same conclusion.

"When were you wed?" he asks.

"I was given to him when I was fourteen," I answer truthfully. "I resided in his home until I was sixteen."

He grunts in acknowledgment. "You left your husband's home ten years ago."

I want to make an acerbic comment on his ability to handle basic math but suspect my humour won't be welcomed. Instead I nod. "Yes, that's correct."

"Why did you leave?" The question is deceptively casual, but I can tell that he desperately wants an answer.

"I don't wish to discuss my marriage any further," I say, clasping my hands in my lap. "I was forcibly wedded. The marriage failed. I'm sure mine isn't the only one you've heard of."

"No, but runaway wives are usually returned to their husbands." He eyes me speculatively. "You didn't return to your husband's home, yet you're still in touch with him."

I shrug but don't answer. I'm finished with his questions. I don't want him guessing my connections. And his questions are too close to an interrogation. I realize quickly that he's better at this than I am. If I continue to answer, then eventually I'll give him more than I should. Enough that he'll be able to trace my origins and become a serious danger to my loved ones. Best to give him nothing to work with.

When I don't speak, he straightens away from the table. His dark eyes are hooded. "You will give me what I ask for, Taran. In time, I'm confident that I'll gain everything from you, including a name."

I turn my head to look at him. "In time I'll be gone, Diogo. Either dead or free. Those are my options. Not whatever this is." I wave my hand impatiently around the room. "This is a game, and I refuse to participate."

"You'll do as your told." He doesn't come closer to me, doesn't threaten me, but the atmosphere in the room feels oppressively close. His entire focus is on me. Like I'm the mouse in his trap and he's decided to keep me for now, toy with me.

"I'll do as I wish." My words are foolhardy and we both know it. I'm less than half his size and I have no recourse for the moment. I'm as good as helpless in the grip of his custody. Still, he needs to know that I won't be a willing participant.

He doesn't answer, instead turning away and striding into the kitchen. My stomach rumbles as I hear him shuffling around. When he returns he's carrying a plate stacked high with food. My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I take it all in. There's more food on that plate than I usually eat in three days. And the variety! My mouth waters as I take in the fresh fruit, meats and cheeses. I haven't even seen fruit in months, let alone this much of it all at once.

He doesn't tease me or demand answers in exchange for food, as I thought he might. Instead, he places the plate in front of me and drops into the chair next to me. For a split second I think about refusing his offer, but my hunger wins out. I've been hungry for so long, I don't remember what full feels like. I've taught myself to simply subsist on less so others can share and survive. I'm not the only one who does this. Many within my rebel circle of friends will give up rations to illegals, so we all have a better chance at survival.

I pick up a piece of papaya and shove it into my mouth, moaning as the first burst of flavour hits my tongue. It's the best thing I've ever eaten. I continue until I've plowed through the rest of the papaya and a banana.

"Where'd you get the fruit?" I ask curiously between bites. It's everything I can do to slow down long enough to ask.

"Some of it's grown in the city in greenhouses and the rest is imported from other Sanctuaries down south." The edge of his lip curls up as he watches me devour his food like I'll never eat again. I turn to look at him more fully. His face is really quite expressive, once a person gets past the harsh, serious lines. His lips are mobile, tipping up when he's amused or thinning out when he's angry. And his eyes, though so brown they're pretty much black, are constantly assessing everything around him, intelligence shining bright in their depths.

As I'm staring at his mouth, his lips part and he says, "While you're in my custody, you'll be assigned a guard to watch over and protect you."

I expected him to say something about my voracious appetite or my terrible table manners, since I'm shoving bits of food in my mouth faster than a Primitive can bite. I swallow the mouthful of pheasant I've just eaten and say, "Water please."

For a split second he looks surprised. Maybe at my lack of argument on his security measures. I don't know, and I don't care. I'm hungry and thirsty and that takes priority at the moment. We both know I'll try to escape at the first opportunity. He would be stupid not to keep close tabs on me. Especially since he has a city to terrorize and can't keep eyes on me at all times.

He fetches a glass of water and drops into the seat next to me, continuing to watch as I eat. I ignore him until I'm finished. When I eat a little over half the plate I push it away with a sigh and gulp the water down.

"Eat more," he says, pushing it back toward me.

"I'm finished." I sit back in my chair, leaning away from him. While I was eating he placed an arm along the top of my chair.

"You suffer from hunger, Taran. Given your size and the ribs I saw poking at your flesh, you've been hungry for a long time." His voice takes on an impatient edge, as though he's annoyed at my hunger.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He's frowning down at the plate. "Yes, Diogo. I go hungry sometimes. It's what happens in my sector. I'm not sure if you remember the food riots" How could anyone forget the food riots? The lower classes tried to burn the city down in an attempt to get the government to ration food fairly. "But I'm not going to be able to assuage a lifetime of hunger in one meal."

He takes my words in and nods. Then he says, "From now on you will not be allowed to go hungry again. At each meal you will eat until you're full." His sharp eyes rove over my frame, before he adds, "And there will be consequences if I discover you giving away your food."

He's not a stupid man. Somehow he's figuring me out, and he's doing it fast. It's odd to have someone care about my hunger. The people in my circles look to me for guidance. Despite my youth, I sit on the rebel council as one of their top advisors. I am an authority where I come from, no one questions how much of my rations are given out to others. Yet, this man is attempting to care for me.

I wonder why? And will I like the answer?