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.‘But won’t the ceremony be fun?’ she enthused.‘The ceremony!’ Casta hissed.‘She’s just jealous,’ Liss stage-whispered at me.‘You’d turn your back on your own sister!’ Casta accused.I realised I’d made a mistake in mentioning the issue.Casta wasn’t joking.The mood had turned suddenly ugly.Liss appealed to me.‘She goes where she wants! She leaves me lonely for turn after turn sometimes.But when I do something without her she won’t have it! She’s—’‘Don’t try and get Orna on your side!’ Casta snapped.‘She’s not interested in your whining.’Liss shrank.‘She’s so mean, so mean sometimes,’ she said, apparently to herself.‘I don’t know how I stand it.’‘Oh, don’t.’‘Well, you are.’‘It’s yourself I’m saving you from.’‘You’re not saving anything, and you can’t stop me!’‘She thinks I can’t stop her,’ Casta said to me.‘She thinks she knows what’s best for me!’ Liss cried.‘It’s been like this ever since she agreed,’ Casta said, tossing her hair and glaring away across the club.‘She just can’t bear to see me happy,’ Liss countered.‘She won’t be happy,’ Casta replied, addressing thin air.‘Well, I won’t be lonely any more when she’s away,’ Liss said, and then burst into tears.Casta, all ill feeling forgotten, immediately hugged her twin and kissed her repeatedly until her tears dried.Even I was bewildered.Food arrived and I ate, even though I wasn’t hungry, because it was so expensive.Casta was somewhat subdued for a while, but she picked up again soon.It was clear that she still disapproved of Ledo’s plan for her sister.Liss, true to form, was either oblivious or pretending to be.Those two.They existed entirely in their own little world, like most of the Plutarchs and their families.Why was it that the people with power were the only ones licensed to act like children?Sometimes the aristocracy scared me.I often wondered if we shouldn’t be more afraid of our rulers than our enemies.22wait for the next time that Gendak summons me, and we play the usual game of evasions, after which I’m sent back to my cell.He tends to call for me every three or four turns, sometimes later but never sooner.I won’t be missed if I duck out for a little while.The following shift in the forge, I make my move.The forge is full of places to hide, and I’m an expert in putting myself where no one’s likely to look.I swap work detail with someone who has a harder job than me - he jumps at the chance - and then don’t turn up for it.There’s a lot of workers stirring the sediment pots, enough that my absence goes unnoticed.Instead I slip into the shadow of a vast, unused vat, chains hanging from it like the dangling fronds of a lichen-tree.From here I can see the door to the Overseer’s office.The steps down are zigzagged, obscured to waist-height by a thin metal barrier acting as a banister.It’s a small mercy, but I’m thankful for it.There’s little chance I’d make it up there otherwise without someone spotting me.I crouch in my hiding place, watching the nearby guards.They laugh and slander their companions, casting an eye over the forge now and then.I know these men: they’re lazy.They really are too secure in their certainty that this place is escape-proof.Their overconfidence is my advantage.The route to the base of the stairs is cluttered, providing easy cover.Once I’m sure it’s safe, I scuttle over.Moving in quick hops, taking my time.Sweat trickles down the back of my neck.The heat and noise press at me in waves.The screech and clank and holler, the stifling dry air.I’ve done the best I can to keep myself clean since I bathed last.Nobody would believe I was a slave, reeking of the prison as I did.It’s impossible to be truly clean in this place, but I got the worst of it off.Of late, I’ve been bathing with the men in my underwear, scrubbing my clothes and hair, ignoring their hungry glances.For a long time I’d told myself that it wasn’t safe to undress in front of the men, but I’d been lying to myself.None of them would dare touch me now.I just wanted to be dirty.Punishing myself.But all that’s over.The door opens, and the Overseer appears.He shuts the door and locks it, puts the key in his pocket.Down the steps he comes in his stately way, a small-minded man over-proud of his authority.There’s a guard waiting at the bottom of the steps; it’s the young Gurta who accompanied him on the shift when we stole his key.His boasting about all the exciting accidents he witnessed probably landed him with the position for a long time to come.He’s regretting it now, I’m guessing.They greet each other rather formally and move off, leaving the way clear.I scan the smoky landscape around me.A distant guard, not paying attention.No time better than now.I hurry across the open space, crouched low, watching the guard from the corner of my eye.He scratches the back of his neck [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]