PROLOGUEThe street flashed before me as I raced down the street, away from… I flinched as an alarm sounded, and my feet flew faster. Footsteps were already shaking the ground.
“Fanami! STOP!” Ignoring the voice, I whipped down a side street. I knew where I wanted to go. The question was if I could get there before any Tarrot guards caught me. My lungs were holding up good, thanks to the training. In fact, I had that to thank for everything. Without it, I could never have found out the truth. The truth that gave me the strength to run. A Runner. That was my title now; Cadet was thrown in the dust. Not that I cared. I dodged aside as a guard tried to leap on me, and he missed, joining the growing chase. I needed to get someqwhere safe, and soon. By now, archers were probably on their way. I turneed again and would have stopped-if my life wasn’t in danger. A building of precarious stabilioty was in front of me, and I ran toward it. I dashed in, throwing open the door and wincing as the structure creaked. Racing to the staircase on one side of the wall, I tripped over a loose beam and went sprawling. Pushing myself up, my feet had just found their footing when the building exploded.
Chapter 1: PainIt hurts. The pain right now is the only part of my life that matters. I don't know why they did this to me. Or who they is. All I am able to register is the muffled sound of boots, and the warm liquid seeping from my ears. I can smell metal. My eyes are dark, and I can’t tell if they are open or closed. I'm too weak to raise my head or move. I am propped up and given food, a tasteless liquid. It cools my throat. I can hear them talking, but to my injured brain it is just an incessant hum. Their words don't matter, anyway. Nothing does. Except the pain.
Something cool is on my eyes. My ears aren’t bleeding as often, so my hearing is better. Often there is a male voice beside me. Of course, I can’t be sure. Of anything. My eyes are starting to sting, but the cool thing makes it better. I’m not even sure if I have the ability to move-I’m in too much pain to risk more. All I have right now is the pain, the darkness, and a voice.
My body is healing fast. I can feel it. Breathing doesn’t hurt like it used to. My ears are healed, and I can hear voices clearly. But trying to make out the words hurts my head too much, so I lay there, helpless. There is definitely a man taking care of me- his voice is deep and his arms strong as he touches me. My eyes have something soft over them nowadays, and I think it might be a blindfold. I think, soon, that I’ll be able to talk.
Today is the day. I wait eagerly for the man to come. My body is feeling the best it’s been in ages, and I want to try to talk. Nothing hard-maybe just, “Hi.” I want to prove to myself that I can do it. I hear a door open, and the heavy footsteps of the man. His hands are soft as he runs them over me, and he grunts, pleased. I agree. I am getting better. He rustles around, and I gratefully accept the liquid that he pours into my mouth. It lubricates my throat, and before I can stop it the first sound I’ve uttered since...is a garbled mess of sound only a few seconds long. Still, it is speech. I feel him jump at the sound, and I imagine him eyeing me, as if he can’t believe that it was I who made the sound, and not someone else. I have made his face into a kindly man, with bright, caring eyes and a strong smile. His hair is messy from pushing it back as he watches me, and his hands are capable of crushing a man while at the same time catching a stray droplet of the foodstuff from my mouth. I have no idea if my fantasy is true, and it probably isn’t, but I can’t tell with my eyes covered like this. I wish the blindfold would come off. I try speaking again, but then his warm hand closes over my jaw, ending my attempt. But I understand. I am not to speak. Till when, I am not sure.
While the man is gone, I practice. My words that I can say are “hi”, “where”, and “I”. The vowels are tricky, so often they are omitted completely. Still, I am proud of my progress. I can’t tell how much time has passed since then, but I want to try to talk to him again. He can’t keep me silent for long. My thoughts are clearer, and I can understand his words, even though he rarely speaks. They are, “Easy. You’re still hurt. But you’re getting better. Thank Knak.” Then he laughs, but it is not sounding happy. Maybe, when he comes again, I will talk and move. Won’t he be surprised.
It happens one day. He is feeding me, when suddenly I move my hand jerkily up to his arm. Not expecting my touch, he starts, spilling the liquid on me. Pain sears from where it hits, and I scream. My limbs jerk, and suddenly I am on the floor, and the blindfold is gone. My eyes open, and my heart stops. It is black. I reach up to touch my eyelids, make sure they are open, but he grabs my arms before I can touch. He lifts me back onto the bed and rubs a soft cloth over where he spilled. The liquid does not hurt anymore, but if it did I doubt I would have noticed. I am too focused on my eyes. My vision...is gone. I shudder, and though it hurts I embrace it. The pain can make me forget. About the past. My eyes. My sight. The man is saying something, but I curl up into a little, pain-filled ball and ignore him. There is too much right now. He strokes me, on the top of my head, and something tickles my nose. He nudges it away and suddenly he does something new. His warmth is suddenly much closer, and if I shift a bit I can feel his stomach. His breath brushes my ear, and I relax into sleep. I understand. He is protecting me.
His name is Ricerdo. He murmured it into my ear once, and I made sure to repeat it in my head over and over so I could remember it. Every time he comes, I try to whisper it. Of course, that is less frequent now, because he rarely leaves. Just now, he is awoken by the sound of a door. I remain as he gets up and walks over to whoever has walked in. They exchange words, and he comes back to me, but the other person doesn’t leave. Something rolls, and suddenly I am lifted by his strong arms! I squeak in surprise, but I know he will not drop me. I am placed onto a table, I think, but then it moves. A rolling table! With me on it, we head out of the room and down a hall. Ricerdo keeps a grip on my hand as he walks, and I try to squeeze it. It could have been my imagination, but I think he squeezed back. I can hear other voices, but trying to make them out hurts my head. There are many, and I wonder where Ricerdo and the other person are taking me. I try to ask, but all that comes out is, “Whr,” in a rush of air.
“Just wait,” he murmurs back, as if he understood. Finally, we stop. I am lifted once more, but I am not afraid now. I know it is Ricerdo. I am put on another table, this one cold and hard and not-rolly. Ricerdo bends and presses his face into my cheek, and then he leaves. I try not to panic. Something cold is trying to go down my throat, but I resist. I don’t know these hands- all I know is that they are not Ricerdo’s. But the liquid is forced, and soon my head is foggy. My mind struggles weakly, but it soon ends the resistance. I go.
My eyes feel strange. Tingly. Not like before, when they stung, because this is not painful. Just unpleasant. The cloth around my eyes is different, too, and tighter. My strength is refreshed, and my body feels better than ever before. Ricerdo still hasn’t come, and I miss his touch. The room smells weird. Like a strange chemical that is familiar yet unknown at the same time. The door opens, and someone steps in. I immediately recognize the footsteps of Ricerdo behind them, and I instantly sharpen my senses and attempt to focus.
“I must thank you, doctor, for letting me ‘watch over’ her.” He laughs.
“Ricerdo, you didn’t…” the doctor gasps. “She isn’t ready for the training yet-I bet she hardly remembers it.”
“Please, I didn’t do that. Not yet, anyway. She needs to be stronger before she’s ready. You know me.”
“Unfortunately, yes. But please, limit your contact until she is better. I don’t want another relapse.”
“Fine, fine, I understand. Health first, then bordello. But don’t you think it might be suspicious for a prostitute to have no eyesight? Not to mention a hinderance?”
“We’ll come to that when we get there. For now, you mustn’t remove that cloth from her eyes. With luck, her eyesight could return within a few months.” There was swishing, and the door closed. Ricerdo came and sat next to me.
“A bordello, huh? Don’t worry. You’ll like it. Lots of pretty rich men throwing themselves at you.” He chuckled. “Of course, I’ll visit too. Just don’t kill me.”
“Fanami! STOP!” Ignoring the voice, I whipped down a side street. I knew where I wanted to go. The question was if I could get there before any Tarrot guards caught me. My lungs were holding up good, thanks to the training. In fact, I had that to thank for everything. Without it, I could never have found out the truth. The truth that gave me the strength to run. A Runner. That was my title now; Cadet was thrown in the dust. Not that I cared. I dodged aside as a guard tried to leap on me, and he missed, joining the growing chase. I needed to get someqwhere safe, and soon. By now, archers were probably on their way. I turneed again and would have stopped-if my life wasn’t in danger. A building of precarious stabilioty was in front of me, and I ran toward it. I dashed in, throwing open the door and wincing as the structure creaked. Racing to the staircase on one side of the wall, I tripped over a loose beam and went sprawling. Pushing myself up, my feet had just found their footing when the building exploded.
Chapter 1: PainIt hurts. The pain right now is the only part of my life that matters. I don't know why they did this to me. Or who they is. All I am able to register is the muffled sound of boots, and the warm liquid seeping from my ears. I can smell metal. My eyes are dark, and I can’t tell if they are open or closed. I'm too weak to raise my head or move. I am propped up and given food, a tasteless liquid. It cools my throat. I can hear them talking, but to my injured brain it is just an incessant hum. Their words don't matter, anyway. Nothing does. Except the pain.
Something cool is on my eyes. My ears aren’t bleeding as often, so my hearing is better. Often there is a male voice beside me. Of course, I can’t be sure. Of anything. My eyes are starting to sting, but the cool thing makes it better. I’m not even sure if I have the ability to move-I’m in too much pain to risk more. All I have right now is the pain, the darkness, and a voice.
My body is healing fast. I can feel it. Breathing doesn’t hurt like it used to. My ears are healed, and I can hear voices clearly. But trying to make out the words hurts my head too much, so I lay there, helpless. There is definitely a man taking care of me- his voice is deep and his arms strong as he touches me. My eyes have something soft over them nowadays, and I think it might be a blindfold. I think, soon, that I’ll be able to talk.
Today is the day. I wait eagerly for the man to come. My body is feeling the best it’s been in ages, and I want to try to talk. Nothing hard-maybe just, “Hi.” I want to prove to myself that I can do it. I hear a door open, and the heavy footsteps of the man. His hands are soft as he runs them over me, and he grunts, pleased. I agree. I am getting better. He rustles around, and I gratefully accept the liquid that he pours into my mouth. It lubricates my throat, and before I can stop it the first sound I’ve uttered since...is a garbled mess of sound only a few seconds long. Still, it is speech. I feel him jump at the sound, and I imagine him eyeing me, as if he can’t believe that it was I who made the sound, and not someone else. I have made his face into a kindly man, with bright, caring eyes and a strong smile. His hair is messy from pushing it back as he watches me, and his hands are capable of crushing a man while at the same time catching a stray droplet of the foodstuff from my mouth. I have no idea if my fantasy is true, and it probably isn’t, but I can’t tell with my eyes covered like this. I wish the blindfold would come off. I try speaking again, but then his warm hand closes over my jaw, ending my attempt. But I understand. I am not to speak. Till when, I am not sure.
While the man is gone, I practice. My words that I can say are “hi”, “where”, and “I”. The vowels are tricky, so often they are omitted completely. Still, I am proud of my progress. I can’t tell how much time has passed since then, but I want to try to talk to him again. He can’t keep me silent for long. My thoughts are clearer, and I can understand his words, even though he rarely speaks. They are, “Easy. You’re still hurt. But you’re getting better. Thank Knak.” Then he laughs, but it is not sounding happy. Maybe, when he comes again, I will talk and move. Won’t he be surprised.
It happens one day. He is feeding me, when suddenly I move my hand jerkily up to his arm. Not expecting my touch, he starts, spilling the liquid on me. Pain sears from where it hits, and I scream. My limbs jerk, and suddenly I am on the floor, and the blindfold is gone. My eyes open, and my heart stops. It is black. I reach up to touch my eyelids, make sure they are open, but he grabs my arms before I can touch. He lifts me back onto the bed and rubs a soft cloth over where he spilled. The liquid does not hurt anymore, but if it did I doubt I would have noticed. I am too focused on my eyes. My vision...is gone. I shudder, and though it hurts I embrace it. The pain can make me forget. About the past. My eyes. My sight. The man is saying something, but I curl up into a little, pain-filled ball and ignore him. There is too much right now. He strokes me, on the top of my head, and something tickles my nose. He nudges it away and suddenly he does something new. His warmth is suddenly much closer, and if I shift a bit I can feel his stomach. His breath brushes my ear, and I relax into sleep. I understand. He is protecting me.
His name is Ricerdo. He murmured it into my ear once, and I made sure to repeat it in my head over and over so I could remember it. Every time he comes, I try to whisper it. Of course, that is less frequent now, because he rarely leaves. Just now, he is awoken by the sound of a door. I remain as he gets up and walks over to whoever has walked in. They exchange words, and he comes back to me, but the other person doesn’t leave. Something rolls, and suddenly I am lifted by his strong arms! I squeak in surprise, but I know he will not drop me. I am placed onto a table, I think, but then it moves. A rolling table! With me on it, we head out of the room and down a hall. Ricerdo keeps a grip on my hand as he walks, and I try to squeeze it. It could have been my imagination, but I think he squeezed back. I can hear other voices, but trying to make them out hurts my head. There are many, and I wonder where Ricerdo and the other person are taking me. I try to ask, but all that comes out is, “Whr,” in a rush of air.
“Just wait,” he murmurs back, as if he understood. Finally, we stop. I am lifted once more, but I am not afraid now. I know it is Ricerdo. I am put on another table, this one cold and hard and not-rolly. Ricerdo bends and presses his face into my cheek, and then he leaves. I try not to panic. Something cold is trying to go down my throat, but I resist. I don’t know these hands- all I know is that they are not Ricerdo’s. But the liquid is forced, and soon my head is foggy. My mind struggles weakly, but it soon ends the resistance. I go.
My eyes feel strange. Tingly. Not like before, when they stung, because this is not painful. Just unpleasant. The cloth around my eyes is different, too, and tighter. My strength is refreshed, and my body feels better than ever before. Ricerdo still hasn’t come, and I miss his touch. The room smells weird. Like a strange chemical that is familiar yet unknown at the same time. The door opens, and someone steps in. I immediately recognize the footsteps of Ricerdo behind them, and I instantly sharpen my senses and attempt to focus.
“I must thank you, doctor, for letting me ‘watch over’ her.” He laughs.
“Ricerdo, you didn’t…” the doctor gasps. “She isn’t ready for the training yet-I bet she hardly remembers it.”
“Please, I didn’t do that. Not yet, anyway. She needs to be stronger before she’s ready. You know me.”
“Unfortunately, yes. But please, limit your contact until she is better. I don’t want another relapse.”
“Fine, fine, I understand. Health first, then bordello. But don’t you think it might be suspicious for a prostitute to have no eyesight? Not to mention a hinderance?”
“We’ll come to that when we get there. For now, you mustn’t remove that cloth from her eyes. With luck, her eyesight could return within a few months.” There was swishing, and the door closed. Ricerdo came and sat next to me.
“A bordello, huh? Don’t worry. You’ll like it. Lots of pretty rich men throwing themselves at you.” He chuckled. “Of course, I’ll visit too. Just don’t kill me.”