Authors: Pamela Sargent
He could still hope that he might be allowed to send a message to Risa. Even in front of guards, he would be able to give her some indication of how bad things actually were. On the other hand, maybe he should not be so anxious to let her know. There might be little she could do; he might only bring more trouble to her household.
Dyami folded one arm under his head, trying to get more comfortable. The time just before sleep was dangerous, when his despair could easily deepen or his rage rise to the surface to distract him with wild and hopeless plans. He tried to keep his feelings at bay. He could look forward to a break in his routine tomorrow. The guards would be putting him and a few others to work building a wing that would connect the two dorms that housed the captives. That had to mean they were expecting new prisoners. The work would be a change; the next arrivals might have some news.
* * *
"Ishtar welcomes all who are willing to accept the truth," Jonah said. Dyami, sitting among the other prisoners, kept his eyes on the floor. This meeting had been even more tedious than usual; Jonah, who was not unduly eloquent, had given a less-than-inspiring lecture. "Surely some among you must be moved to embrace the Spirit."
No one stepped forward. Dyami looked up; several of the guards were seated next to Jonah. The others were behind the prisoners, near the door, their wands ready.
"You insist on making things harder on yourselves," Jonah said. "Don't you want to set a better example for the penitents who will be joining you tomorrow? Fifteen of them will be arriving here, along with a few more volunteers, and I'd hoped they'd all see more cooperation on your part."
If we joined, Dyami thought, you'd eventually expect us to share the rite with your people, and surely even a sinner doesn't deserve to suffer that much. It was the kind of remark he wanted to make aloud but one which would only bring a reprisal.
"Very well," Jonah muttered. "I'll pray for you and hope you see the light."
The prisoners got to their feet. Dyami was just behind Amina when he reached the door; a young man pulled her roughly aside. "I've got a message for you," he said. "I'm sure you'd like to view it."
The blond woman glanced at Tasida, then Dyami; she had, he knew, been given no messages before. Dyami filed outside with the others, then followed them toward the creek as their guards walked at their sides. The dome was nearly dark, but flat panels of light had been placed on the ground along their route. No one spoke. The prisoners, acting together, might have overcome the people herding them along, but they could not escape. If they made for the forest, the others would hunt them down and probably summon aid from outside to do that. If they ran toward the bay, they would have to force the pilots in the south dome to take them out in the airships, and even then, where could they go?
It might still be worth it, if only to show their captors they were not completely cowed. He pushed that thought aside. Better to wait until any plan had a chance of working.
We have perfect prisons, he thought. There was a kind of logic in using a settlement in this way.
They crossed the wooden bridge, a few people at a time, then entered the building on the other side. The two dormitories were one structure now, joined at the opposite ends by the addition the prisoners had completed a few days ago. Guards were always posted near the two doors that were the only way out.
Dyami went to his room, which was the first one on the right of the corridor. People murmured to one another as they entered their own rooms; others were moving toward the lavatories in the back. Women and men shared both wings of the building; the Peeper had explained why they were not housed separately. "That might tempt you to commit offenses," he had told them. "Maybe you'll mend your ways if we keep you all together." The Peeper, as did most of the guards, assumed that they were all potential offenders against the Spirit; he undoubtedly thought that those who had tolerated such practices were as bad as the offenders themselves.
Dyami settled himself on his mat but did not lie down. He would wait until his roommates returned from the lavatory before going himself. At least the new addition would solve one problem; men and women would no longer have to share the lavatories, since they could now move freely between the two wings. Perhaps that would restore a little of their lost dignity; the guards were sometimes amused by their efforts at preserving some modesty.
He took out his stylus and marked off another day. One hundred and thirty-five, he thought as he put the stylus back into his pocket. The walls suddenly rattled a little, then were still — a minor quake. A major one might give them an opportunity to overpower their captors; he filed that notion away.
He might die here. If that was what lay in store for him, then he would have to find a way to fight before he grew too weak to make the effort.
* * *
Dyami waited until the corridor was silent, then wandered down to the lavatory. Ten toilets without partitions lined the wall to his left; ten sinks with small mirrors above them stood to his right. The showers were at the other end of the room, small nozzles that now yielded only cold water.
He relieved himself, then went to a sink to wash. The stubble on his face prickled against his hands. He gazed at his slightly haggard visage; his thick chestnut hair, in spite of his efforts, was becoming an unruly mass. He had begun to notice that more of his fellow prisoners were failing at their grooming. He pushed at a dispenser panel and slapped some depilatory cream on his face, deciding to tend to himself now: Grooming was one way of keeping a little of his pride.
To his left, an opening led from the showers to the new addition. He walked toward it and stared down the hall, seeing the showers at the other end. Jonah had said fifteen more prisoners would be coming, but this addition could house more than that. He wondered how many other prisoners would follow them and how many more dormitories they might build.
He had to stop thinking of himself and the others as prisoners. Seeing himself in that way only added to his sense of helplessness. A resister — that was a nobler term. He could still resist the teachings with which his captors wanted to cloud his mind.
He heard footsteps in the distant lavatory. Dyami flattened himself against the wall; some of the guards might be making their rounds. The footsteps stopped; he heard a queer retching sound. This could not be any of the guards; he had heard only one set of footsteps, and no guard, even with thoroughly intimidated captives, ever entered the building alone.
A naked woman suddenly stepped under one of the shower heads in the other lavatory; he recognized Amina. The water poured over her head as she scrubbed with the harsh soap. When the water stopped running, she stumbled toward a rack holding several worn and stained towels, then disappeared from view.
Something was wrong. Amina had seemed distracted, her movements jerky and awkward. Before he could decide whether or not to go to her, she entered the new wing and went into one of the open rooms.
He hastened toward her and peered into the room. She was sitting against one wall, barely visible in the pale light that shone from the ceiling of the hall. Her gray shirt was torn at the shoulder; her wet hair was plastered against her head and back, wetting her garments.
"Amina," he whispered.
She started, then shrank back, raising her hands. As he came inside, she pulled up her legs and pressed her forehead against her knees.
"What is it?" he asked. "Was it the message? Is there something the matter back home?" That, he supposed, would be characteristic of the guards — offering to show a message that might bear only sad tidings. "Do you want me to stay?"
"If the guards come in to check up, it'll just mean trouble for you." Her voice sounded hoarse. "You should be in your room. You'll need your rest for tomorrow's labors."
"I don't have much to do tomorrow. They're allowing me the great privilege of unloading some of the cargo in the bay when the new people arrive." He sat down.
"You'd better go away," she said. "They wouldn't like it if they found us sitting here."
"Maybe they wouldn't mind that much. If I'm with a woman, at least they can't accuse me of trying to offend the Spirit."
He heard her choke; then she was sobbing softly as she clawed at her legs. He reached for her; she struck his hands away. "Amina, what's wrong? I can't leave you alone like this."
"There's nothing you can do for me."
"I can listen, can't I? What happened? Was it bad news about your family?"
She was silent for a long time. At last she said, "There wasn't any message, not one he would show me anyway. He took me to one of the houses — he's been staying in one. All the way over, he kept asking me if I could guess who the message was from. When we got there, he said a friend of his would be joining us, and then he went on and on about Ishtar and how sorry he was for me until the other man arrived."
She lapsed into silence once more; he heard her gasp for breath. He reached for her hand; she recoiled. "They raped me," she said in a toneless voice. "They took their time. One of them would hold me down while the other one worked on me. They were only trying to make me more receptive to the Spirit — that's how they see it. I'm an offense to Ishtar, and they don't want me to be that any more."
Rage welled up inside him; he gritted his teeth.
"They wanted to force me to respond," she continued. "Maybe I could have faked it so they'd leave me alone — they wouldn't have known the difference — but I didn't. I still have some pride left, for all the good it'll do me."
"I won't let it happen again," he muttered. "We'll make them pay."
"How? Going to Jonah with the story? Maybe he knows and doesn't care — maybe it's already happened to somebody else who's afraid to talk about it. Even if he doesn't know, it'd be my word against two of his men, and you know who he'd believe."
"If Chimene knew about this," he said, "she'd put a stop to it. Whatever she is, she's always hated such crimes. She'd never allow —"
"And how will she ever find out?"
"I'll think of something," he said. "If our friends knew what happened to you, maybe they'd finally decide to fight them."
"Dyami." Her voice was very cold. "There's nothing you can do that wouldn't make it worse for me, and you'll bring trouble to yourself. They'd probably take it out on me for telling you what happened, and maybe some of my friends as well. You know what they're like — they'd make others suffer if anyone tries to protect me. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything to you."
He gazed at her, hating his helplessness.
"I don't want you doing anything stupid," she said. "I'll get through this. They didn't touch anything inside my mind, and I won't let them break me. They think they can make me enjoy what they do, but they've only made me hate it even more than I did. It'll help me, hating them more. It'll keep me alive until I can find some way to strike back."
"Amina —"
She got to her feet. "I'm going to my room. I don't want anyone to know. Promise me you won't say anything to the others."
"If that's what you want, but —"
"Promise me."
"I promise."
She left the room. Her body was slumped, her back bowed. She claimed they had not touched her, but they had; some of her spirit was already gone.
* * *
"You, there." The guard named Thomas beckoned to Dyami. "Load those crates."
Dyami moved toward the side of the cradle, where several large crates stood at the bottom of a ramp. Jonah had decided earlier that only Dyami could be spared for this work. "You look strong enough to handle it alone," he had said, "and if it's too much for you, the new people can help you with it." Jonah had clearly been in a playful mood. If Dyami strained too much and injured himself, he could be punished for being careless. If he asked Thomas for some of the new captives to help him, the guard would have some amusement mocking him for weakness and find an even more unpleasant task for him. It was another of the choices the guards occasionally liked to offer.
Thomas climbed the other ramp toward the entrance to the cabin, trailed by two other men. The passengers aboard the airship had not yet come out. The two pilots, both men this time, were standing near the crates. One of them, a man with graying light-brown hair, looked familiar, but Dyami could not recall his name.
Three other guards were standing several paces away. One of the female guards had her wand casually pointed in his direction but did not seem to be paying much attention to him; her companions were murmuring to each other. The pilots moved back a little as he approached; he wondered what they were thinking. They would have little pity for him; they probably believed what Jonah said they had been told — that those in Turing would have to be guided by members of the patrol until they were fit to live among others again. The pilots might suspect that the patrol here was occasionally firm but would assume that their charges were being treated fairly. Even if they heard the truth from Dyami, they were not likely to believe it; he would be only another liar attempting to sow discord. The two men would not have been here in the first place unless they were strong believers, who would not question their Guide's wisdom.
He put his arms around one of the crates, testing its weight. If he lowered one side of the cart, he could probably heave it in by himself.
"Dyami." The voice was so low he barely heard it. "Don't turn around. I've been told your household has had no messages from you. They're well — I'll let them know somehow that you are, too."
Dyami moved to the cart by the ramp and began to lower its side. As he bent over, he glanced around quickly at the pilots. The brown-haired man was staring at him; he was sure he had been the speaker. He searched his mind. Evar — the pilot who had once aspired to becoming Risa's bondmate. He had come, apparently uninvited, to a party of his mother's when Dyami was a boy. Risa had gone on at length after he left, poking fun at her former love's faith. He had visited only a few times after that.