“Don’t worry about it.”
He glanced at her. “Are you that confident you can avoid being arrested?”
“No, but I’m learning how to stay hidden, probably like the hunters who escaped. Or do you think they left Zirdai?”
“I don’t know where they are. If they’re smart, they’re long gone.”
“Do you know who escaped?”
“Someone tipped off Dekel and he told his crew. They scattered right before the guards arrived.”
“Is Aphra part of Dekel’s crew?”
“Yeah.”
Shyla was glad the woman escaped. Aphra had treated her like a normal person.
“I answered your questions, now it’s my turn. What happened to you?” Fadey asked. “The deacons said you went topside during the killing heat and died. We spent an entire service thanking the Sun Goddess for taking you home.”
She found it interesting that the priestess hadn’t informed her flock that the evil sun-kissed had returned. That would be quite the embarrassment. It also might proved to be to Shyla’s benefit.
“They lectured us about reporting sun-kisseds as soon as they are born. Sorry.” He ducked his head.
Everyone believed Shyla had been left on the sands to die when she was a newborn, including her until eighteen sun jumps ago when she’d learned she was born in the monastery and Hanif was her father. “Why are you sorry? You haven’t sacrificed any sun-kissed babies, have you?”
He stared at her in horror. “No!” Then he recovered. “They want us to report all sun-kisseds.”
“Does this mean you’re going to report me?”
“Of course not. But why would the deacons lie about you?”
“They didn’t. I did go topside right before the killing heat.”
“How did you survive? No one has before.”
Shyla leaned closer to the man. “Fadey, look at me, please.” She lowered her shield as he met her gaze.
Finally noticing her new eye color, he jerked in surprise. “Your eyes—”
“Fadey, you will forget my visit and our conversation. Shyla Sun-Kissed is dead. When the guards ask who came to see you, tell them it was a merchant looking for treasures to sell on the black market. Tell them you turned her away and laid down for a nap.”
Sleep.
He slumped over. Shyla lifted his head and tucked a cushion underneath. Even though it would save him from getting into trouble, erasing his memories sat heavily on her heart. She wondered if she would reach a point where altering memories no longer caused her concern. Would she be ruthless in order to win? Shyla hoped not, but it worried her.
As she navigated the tunnels down to level thirty-nine, she considered her next move. Even if Aphra remained in Zirdai, would the woman still be able to sell treasures for Shyla? The hunter had mentioned working with someone at the university in Catronia—the closest city to Zirdai—so perhaps Aphra’s network hadn’t been shut down by the prince’s sweep. But how would she find the woman? Maybe Jayden had some ideas.
She arrived at the commune before Jayden. Zhek waylaid her almost immediately, demanding to check her injury. With her history of ripping stitches, there was no way he’d trust her word that it was fine. She grinned at the surprised tone in his voice when he declared it “healing nicely.”
Then she found Orla writing on a scroll at a low table. The leader was alone so Shyla approached and asked her if she wouldn’t mind answering some questions.
“What type of questions?” Orla asked.
“Boring ones about how you take care of everyone.”
“Ah. Ilan,” she called to a group of children.
A boy around ten circuits old skidded to a stop. “Yes, Grandmother?”
“Fetch us some tea, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He raced off.
Orla smiled fondly at him before turning to Shyla. “One of the things you need to instill in everybody is that everyone is equally important to the group’s survival. No one is more important than anyone else. From the youngest to the oldest, we rely on each other and we all have important jobs. If you can walk, you can help.”
Ilan returned with a teapot in one hand and two cups in the other.
“Take Ilan here,” Orla said as the boy set the items down on the stone table. “He’s our best sand rat catcher, and he takes good care of them.”
Ilan beamed. “They like me. And do you know they have an excellent sense of smell?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Big Bad and his off-spring can sniff out the poison in the water. If they smell it, they’ll refuse to drink it. Isn’t that amazing?”
“It is,” Shyla agreed, suppressing a grin over the boy’s enthusiasm about sand rats of all things.
“And they’re really loving creatures. Smart, too.”
Interesting. “Can they be trained?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve taught Black Tail to retrieve items. And I’ve a bunch that I’ve taught how to play hide and seek—they can find anyone, anywhere, but my friends say using the rats while playing the game is cheating.” He shrugged. “And…” He lowered his voice. “I sent Cat Toy to sneak into my sister’s room. You should have heard her scream.” He laughed.
“Shyla probably did,” Orla said dryly. “Along with everyone else in Zirdai.”
“Is that what triggered the level twenty cave-in?” Shyla asked, playing along.
“No, that was Ilan’s mother yelling at him for scaring his sister.”
“Worth it,” Ilan said before dashing off.
Shyla laughed.
Orla poured them tea. “If you’re buying water from the black market, you’ll need sand rats as well. Ilan will sell you a few of his.”
Good to know and a reminder for her to get back on track. She asked Orla about acquiring resources. Gesturing to the people around them, she asked, “How do you find enough clothing for them all?”
“We own a herd of gamelu. We shear them and make our own fabric.”
Completely shocked, Shyla stared at the woman. “You own a herd? How is that possible?”
Orla sipped her tea. “We’re vagrants by choice. Some of us are even upstanding citizens who pay taxes, tithe to the church, and own herds. Once we supply our people, we sell the rest. We also own a herd of velbloud. Our sun cloaks are highly sought after,” she said with pride.
Recovering, Shyla asked, “Is that how you got the eggs and meat for first meal?”
“Yes, but the herds don’t provide enough to feed everyone so we have to find supplemental sources.” Orla brightened. “We’re saving to buy two more herds.”
Astounding. “What other ways do you earn coin?”
“Ah. We sell a variety of goods, including information. Our scouts keep an eye on the guards and deacons and will pick up gossip. The Invisible Sword paid us for any news that could compromise their organization.” Orla set her cup down. “The hardest thing to manage is the waste from the collection bins. We’re too deep to schlep it up to the surface to dry out.”
Shyla remembered having to cross through the worst stink she’d ever smelled when she had visited the commune on level sixteen. “What do you do with it?”