The Stone Sky (The Broken Earth #3)(19)

You’re thinking you might need to take a turn in the ditch yourself when Ykka surprises you out of this scintillating rumination. “So do you like us yet?”



“What?”



She gestures over the camp. The people of the comm. “You’ve been with Castrima for the better part of a year now. Got any friends?”



You, you think, before you can stop yourself. “No,” you say.

She eyes you for a moment, and guiltily you wonder if she was expecting you to name her. Then she sighs. “Started rolling Lerna yet? No accounting for taste, I guess, but the Breeders say the signs are all there. Me, when I want a man, I pick one who doesn’t talk so much. Women are a surer bet. They know not to ruin the mood.” She starts to stretch, grimacing as she works out a kink in her back. You use the time to get control of the horrified embarrassment on your face. The rusting Breeders obviously aren’t busy enough.

“No,” you say.

“Not yet?”



You sigh. “Not… yet.”



“The rust are you waiting for? The road’s not getting any safer.”



You glare at her. “I thought you didn’t care?”



“I don’t. But giving you shit about it is helping me make a point.” Ykka’s leading you toward the wagons, or so you think at first. Then you move past the wagons, and stiffen in surprise.

Here, seated and eating, are the seven Rennanese prisoners. Even sitting they’re different from the people of Castrima – all of the Rennanese being pure Sanzed or close enough not to matter, bigger than average even for that race, with fully grown ashblow manes or shorn-sided braids or short bottlebrushes to heighten the effect. Their prangers have been put aside for the moment – though the chains linking each prisoner to their set are still in place – and there are a few Strongbacks standing guard nearby.

You’re surprised that they’re eating, since you haven’t made full camp for the night yet. The Strongbacks on guard are eating, too, but that only makes sense; they’ve got a long night ahead of them. The Rennies look up as you and Ykka approach, and that makes you stop in your tracks, because you recognize one of the prisoners. Danel, the general of the Rennanis army. She’s healthy and whole, apart from red marks around her neck and wrists from the pranger. The last time you saw her up close, she was summoning a shirtless Guardian to kill you.

She recognizes you, too, and her mouth flattens into a resigned, ironic line. Then, very deliberately, she nods to you before turning back to her bowl.

Ykka hunkers down to a crouch beside Danel, to your surprise. “So, how’s the food?”



Danel shrugs, still eating. “Better than starving.”



“It’s good,” says another prisoner, across the ring. He shrugs when one of the others glares at him. “Well, it is.”



“They just want us to be able to haul their wagons,” says the man who glared.

“Yeah,” Ykka interrupts. “That’s precisely right. Strongbacks in Castrima get a comm share and a bed, when we have one to give, in exchange for their contribution. What’d you get from Rennanis?”



“Some rusting pride, maybe,” says the glarer, glaring harder.

“Shut up, Phauld,” says Danel.

“These mongrels think they —”



Danel sets her bowl of food down. The glarer immediately shuts up and tenses, his eyes going a little wide. After a moment, Danel picks up her bowl and resumes eating. Her expression hasn’t changed the whole time. You find yourself suspecting that she’s raised children.

Ykka, elbow propped on one knee, rests her chin on her fist and watches Phauld for a moment. To Danel, she says, “So what do you want me to do about that one?”



Phauld immediately frowns. “What?”



Danel shrugs. Her bowl’s empty now, but she runs a finger around its curve to sweep up the last sauce. “Not for me to say anymore.”



“Doesn’t seem very bright.” Ykka purses her lips, considering the man. “Not bad-looking, but harder to breed for brains than looks.”



Danel says nothing for a moment, while Phauld looks from her to Ykka and back in growing incredulity. Then, with a heavy sigh, Danel looks up at Phauld, too. “What do you want me to say? I’m not his commander anymore. Never wanted to be in the first place; I got drafted. Now I don’t rusting care.”



“I can’t believe you,” Phauld says. His voice is too loud, rising in panic. “I fought for you.”



“And lost.” Danel shakes her head. “Now it’s about surviving, adapting. Forget all that crap you heard back in Rennanis about Sanzeds and mongrels; that was just propaganda to unite the comm. Things are different now. ‘Necessity is the only law.’”



“Don’t you rusting quote stonelore at me!”



“She’s quoting stonelore because you don’t get it,” snaps the other man – the one who liked the food. “They’re feeding us. They’re letting us be useful. It’s a test, you stupid shit. To see if we’re willing to earn a place in this comm!”