Sy'anh I

I hadn’t been the one to get the door open; the man sitting inside had opened it with the brief press of a button. He pressed that button again; I shoved at the door and found that it was locked.

“Well, what have we here. You should take off that veil, little girl.” He twirled a knife in his hand.

I took it off.

“Not a little girl, I see. Headscarf too.”

“What if I refuse?” Headscarves weren’t religious here, so there was no reason I’d be so strict on covering my face and hair unless it was to hide my identity (in his viewpoint).

“Do you think you could take me in a fight?” The window of the hatch cast a cross-shaped shadow over his face. The only glints of light came from the beads sewn into his locs and the gold cuffs around them. That hair style was familiar, but I couldn’t be sure who this was until I saw his face more clearly.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, mind spinning, trying to figure out an escape route. My eyes darted to the button he’d pressed to lock it. His hand was still covering it.

I took off the scarf.

“Huh. That’s interesting. So you wanted to sneak into this tank, huh? What are you?”

“Alteran.”

“Alterans have wavy hair, blue eyes, and wear those thick robes and feathery capes. You’re some human oddball dressed like an Asan.”

I really hadn’t expected anyone who’d been to Altera. Nor did I know what Alterans were really like. They’d just been a footnote on my map.

Could I speak Alteran at him, to trick him?

I still didn’t know exactly how my language abilities worked.

“Why not be dressed like an Asan? I’m a trader.”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t dress like us if given the chance. We’re everywhere in what used to be Asania now, after all.”

“Maybe the Asan have better prices,” I countered.

He dug a rope out of a compartment in the hatch. “Stay still.”

“No! You’re going to tie me up!”

I retreated backwards, pressing my back against the hatch’s window, one hand deep in my pocket for Jayla’s knife.

Don’t pull out a deadly weapon unless you’re prepared to escalate the situation into a deadly one.

I’d gotten gun training once as research for a Western story, which now seemed a million years in the past (before he died) and that was what they’d told me. I didn’t want this to be a deadly situation, but—! The Asan were in life or death danger, even if I wasn’t.

He shoved me hard against the door. My head slammed into the window and I swore. With his other hand, he grabbed my wrists, then pushed his leg up against my hips to keep me in place while he knotted them together. I’d hesitated too long. The dim, greenish light from the street was clear on his face now, and I could see a thin scar tracing down his forehead. This was Captain Sy'anh, who would become one of the fastest-promoted officers in Ry’keth history.

“Sy'anh,” I said.

He startled. “What?”

“I may not be a good fighter, but I’m a very good spy. I know information you don’t know, and information that no one else knows.”

“Oh, sure. Like what?”

“Like how your wife cheated on you while you were away on the frontlines, so you killed her lover when you came back.”

That threw him.

He immediately schooled his face into a confused, angry look. “I did nothing like that!”

“You did.” My heart hammered in my chest. “And if you don’t do what I say, I’ll tell everyone I can, but if you do do what I say, I’ll tell you information vital to improving your own position.”

“Improving my own position?”

“Becoming major. Colonel. General.”

“Alright. I’ll let you go. Follow me.”

“You’re not getting me to any secondary location,” I said. “Street smarts.”

He flipped out his knife and put it at my throat.

I swallowed. The cold metal of the knife pushed into my skin.

It’d been going well too. I was going to convince him to spare Casselian and Jayla and the other Asan.

He tied a piece of cloth around my head, sliding the main portion of it between my teeth. With a knife at my neck, I was too scared to fight back.

“You could have been tied up somewhere more comfortable.” His lip curled. “Too bad for your ‘street smarts’.”

He doesn’t know I was referencing John Mulaney… I laughed nervously, a weird, half-there thing. And no one ever will again, because I’m in a new and scary world now.

“I’d love to know what’s so funny, but I suppose I’ll have to wait on that.” He opened a small door in front of the tank’s passenger seat, revealing a cramped cargo compartment.

Oh fuck no. I ducked his grip and ran to the other side of the hatch, which was just a few feet away, a wall that didn’t open at all ever, and right in his grasp; he grabbed my collar with one hand, swept my feet out from under me with a kick. I landed on the ground hard. He shoved me into the cargo compartment and shut the door.

“Hey! Let me go! Fucker! Fucking motherfucker, fuck you!” is what I was trying to yell, but all that came out was muffled and indistinct.

I didn’t want to use too much air. I shut my eyes and took short, shallow breaths.

There was barely enough room for me curled up. A suitcase or crate of something pressed into my chest, and I tried to shift so it was against a less sensitive area, but my head thudded against the compartment wall with that attempt. Behind my legs there was another pile of stuff.

I couldn’t stay long in here. My legs would cramp up, I’d hurt my neck, I had to get out of there. I needed to get out; I couldn’t kick the door, could hardly move.

Calm down, think rationally. It had seemed pitch black, but after I opened my eyes again, they slowly started to adjust. A slit of dim gray light was coming in underneath the door. I could hear and see a little through there, too. It seemed like Sy'anh had left.

I wedged my fingers under that crack, trying to get the door open, but after struggling for a long time, I gave up. Nothing changed about my situation until early morning.