Three months passed since that day.

  Ruther was doing the usual check on the Queen.

  He walked through the hallway, a tunnel long enough to steal the breath from a weaker man. It ran beneath a city that was older than the King himself. Above him, houses had been full of breathers for more than a hundred years.

  But a hundred years of pain was nothing but wasted years.

  Ruther opened the door.

  The room had changed. Three months ago, it had nothing but pale, grimy walls. Now, the walls were scrubbed raw. They looked... clean.

  The Princess sat on the cot, washing a dress she had stitched together from leather scraps.

  She looked up at him. A smile touched her face.

  “Ruther. You are back.”

  “I am. Though not by choice.”

  She nodded, returning to her work. “Usual Ruther.”

  Ruther leaned against the cold stone of the doorframe. “Did someone bring you food?”

  “Malik did.”

  The Princess scrubbed a stain on the leather. Then she stopped. She didn't look up.

  “Ruther, I have been meaning to ask.”

  He waited.

  “I haven’t seen any girls around here. The sewers are full of boys. Where are the women? Did they... did they all die?”

  Ruther sighed. He looked at the ceiling, tracing a crack in the stone with his eyes.

  “No. They didn’t die. They are hidden.”

  “Hidden?”

  “Yes. Hidden from your soldiers' hands. And your father’s eyes.”

  He pushed himself off the wall, walking slowly toward her. He stopped a foot away, looming over her.

  “When I started sleeping in the streets, I saw the soldiers taking girls into carriages. Hundreds of them.”

  The Princess went still.

  “I was ten years old. I didn’t know what it meant,” Ruther said. “I didn’t know they were selling them to the nobles.”

  “Cheap price. Had the shape. Had hands that could cook and sew. And no one would ever ask about them.”

  The Princess gasped.

  “So, it was only natural,” Ruther whispered, “to take them away.”

  The door creaked open.

  “Why are you so close to her?”

  Malik stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised, looking between Ruther and the Princess.

  Ruther stepped back. “I was just telling her about her father’s crimes.”

  “Ahh. Okay, I guess,” Malik shrugged. “They told me you wanted me.”

  “Yes. It’s your turn to deliver the food.”

  “Deliver the food to who?”

  “The girls.”

  Malik frowned. “The girls? Wasn't that Andree’s job?”

  “It’s nobody’s job. No one goes there twice.”

  “And don't take the wide road. Andree took it last week.”

  “Then I take the road through...?”

  “Through the West Breach,” Ruther said. “There is a small hole behind the collapsed pipe."

  "that pipe is behind a broken tree.”

  Ruther leaned down, looking Malik in the eye.

  “Walk sixteen steps. Then take your right into the Old Cistern.”

  “Walk straight until you find the Giant Root.”

  “Climb it until you see the Sunken Garden.”

  Malik nodded, eyes wide.

  “At the gate,” Ruther said, “Knock on the wood. Two fast. One slow. Do not mess it up.”

  “Two fast. One slow,” Malik whispered, mouthing the words to memorize them.

  “Then go to the small hole on the left. You will be inside. I hope you got that.”

  Malik blinked, snapping to attention. “Yes! I understood!”

  “Good. Take the sack and go.”

  Malik nodded. He grabbed the heavy sack of supplies and ran out, closing the door with a thud.

  The Princess watched the door, shaking her head.

  “He’s going to get lost, Ruther.”

  “He won’t. I raised him myself.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “You raised him?”

  Ruther looked at the door, his eyes softening just a fraction.

  “I have been his caretaker since he was five."

  The Princess looked at him.

  “Hopeless,” she whispered.

  Malik walked through the sewers taking a left then he jumped inside a pipe. He crawled in it.

  He pushed a loose stone slab, then he was out the sewers. He pushed the stone slab back to place.

  The city became a city of ghosts. No one walked there except animals who were eating the meat of the dead.

  Malik hummed, shaking the sack left and right.

  He walked towards the West Breach for an hour.

  Malik looked at the sky. “Ruther said the hole was behind a pipe. Now where is that pipe?”

  Malik walked along the Breach until he found some soldiers.

  Malik sighed. He took the way through the alley, wasting another hour.

  And when he got out of the alley, he still didn’t find the pipe.

  “Where is that damn pipe? He didn’t say it was that hidden.”

  “One sec, did he say it was behind the burnt tree or the broken tree?” Malik said, rubbing his face.

  And as he said that, he found a small pipe behind a dead tree.

  “No, I was just blind wasn’t I?”

  He went to the pipe, and he heard footsteps.

  “I swear I saw a child here.”

  Malik swallowed hard, throwing the sack through the hole.

  “There he is.”

  The soldier said, running towards Malik.

  Malik jumped through the hole.

  The soldier jumped after him, but his shoulder plates caught on the stone rim. The metal screeched and wedged him tight.

  His shoulders were on Malik’s side, and his arms were pinned behind the wall.

  Malik smiled, rubbing his hands.

  “You little brat! Berry! Get me out of here!”

  The other soldier tried to pull him from the other side, and as he did, the stuck one screamed from pain.

  “STOP.”

  “It will take us a day to go the nearest gate.”

  “You can’t just climb.”

  “The wall is five men tall. Climb what, you idiot?”

  “I will try to find a horse or something.”

  Malik sat until the other soldier’s footsteps faded.

  “Now let’s play,” Malik said, taking a stone in his hand.

  "You little rat! When I get out, I'm going to skin you!"

  Malik smiled. He tapped the rock on the soldier's helmet. "You aren't getting out."

  The soldier looked at the stone, then at Malik’s face.

  Malik walked to the soldier’s head. He reached out and lifted the soldier's visor.

  Then Malik's first strike came to the jaw.

  “NO!” he screamed.

  And then the second to the soldier’s eye.

  After ten minutes there was nothing but a painting of blood on the wall, and a corpse that didn’t have a face.

  Malik wiped his hands on the soldier’s armor, taking the sack, and he started walking the sixteen steps.

  “Now sixteen steps.”

  “And then I should take the right to the Old Cistern.”

  He walked between dead trees and a gray sky, humming “We have no gold, we have no land.”

  Until he found the giant root.

  He tied the sack on his back and he started climbing it.

  “The gardens... maybe it’s green?”

  And his eyes finally saw the dead crops that had crows sitting on the scarecrow.

  “Nice.”

  He walked to the gate. He knocked on it. “Two fast, one slow.”

  Then he looked at the hole at his left. He threw the sack in it, and then he got inside. He started to crawl, and he saw nothing for a long time.

  “When does this ho—” he found himself sliding and then he was thrown on a stone slab.

  He looked up and he saw it, or more like he smelled it. It wasn’t a smell of human feces or dead animals, but more of animal fats.

  And then he looked at the stone which was white. The walls weren’t a spider’s hotel.

  And the ground wasn’t a bar for the rats.

  Malik stood up and he finally saw them. Pale ghosts.

  But they didn’t have dirt on their faces.

  And they were taller, and their bodies were more like women than girls.

  Some of them were young, Malik was taller than them, and some were taller than Ruther.

  “A kid?”

  A girl reached out to touch his cheek. She pulled her hand back. Her finger was red.

  "Is this... is this yours?"

  "No. It's a soldier's."

  They looked at each other.

  Then they grabbed him. They started touching his shoulder.

  “So thin.”

  And then another touched his hair.

  “It’s full of mud.”

  “I can’t believe that Ruther. He sends kids now.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have anyone left.”

  They stayed silent for a minute.

  “I am not a kid, I am Malik the son Noah.”

  “Ruther taught you pride, but he forgot to teach you how to wipe the blood off your face.”

  “He taught me everything that you can’t do,” Malik spat back.

  “Okay, long tongue. Come and eat, little soldier. Seems like you didn’t eat for days.”

  He sat at the wooden table. A bowl of broth was brought to him. Steam rose from it.

  Malik stared at it. “What is that? Why is it hot?”

  “You don’t cook out there?”

  “No. Fire makes smoke. And smoke will kill us all.”

  The girls looked at each other. A heavy silence fell over the room.

  “Eat, Malik,” one of them said gently. “Ruther made us a chimney. The smoke goes out. The air stays clean.”

  Malik nodded. He took the bowl in his trembling hands. He brought it to his lips and drank a small sip.

  He froze.

  His hands stopped holding the bowl steady. A little bit of the soup spilled onto the table.

  He clutched his stomach.

  “What happened?” the girls asked, stepping closer.

  “My stomach...” Malik gasped. “It hurts.”

  Tears leaked from his eyes, but his face didn't change expression.

  The girls' eyes were filled with tears.

  One of them reached out. She brushed the tear from his dirty cheek with her thumb.

  “It’s the warmth,” she whispered. “It’s just the warmth.”

  Malik wiped his face. He looked at the bowl.

  He didn’t leave a single drop.

  After he finished, he went to one of the older girls.

  “Can I see the rest?”

  “Why?”

  “Just curious. I want to see your rugs.”

  “Rugs? We don’t sleep on rugs. We have beds.”

  Malik’s eyes went wide. “Beds? But that is for the nobles only.”

  “No. It’s for everyone. Here, at least.”

  “I want to see it. I want to... I want to touch it.”

  They smiled at him.

  They led him to the sleeping quarters.

  Rows of wooden bunks with straw mattresses lined the walls.

  Some girls were talking about how lavender smelled before they were tak—

  Malik ran. He threw himself at the nearest bed.

  The wood creaked under his weight.

  He buried his face in the straw. "Damn. It's too soft."

  The girls in the room stopped talking.

  “Who is that?”

  “It’s the delivery boy.”

  “He’s so small.”

  “I know. But we don’t choose who Ruther sends.”

  His eyes closed. The darkness pulled at him immediately. "Hey," a voice cut through the fog. "Don't die on us yet."

  Malik jerked awake, hand reaching for a knife that wasn't there.

  They laughed at him.

  “Don’t laugh. I thought there was an attack on us.”

  “Yeah, seems like that.”

  They continued the tour, walking to the back of the room.

  He found a big iron pot with something white and thick boiling in it.

  The smell was sharp. It burned his nose.

  “Soup?” Malik asked, licking his lips.

  “No, it will burn your throat out. It's soap.”

  “I know the difference!”

  “Yeah? Seems like you tried to drink it.”

  She handed him a small, hard bar. “Go clean your hands in that bucket.”

  He went to the bucket. He scrubbed. For the first time in years, the water turned black and red.

  He pulled his hands out.

  “My hands...” he whispered. “They are white.”

  Malik started unlacing his tunic right there in the middle of the room.

  One of the girls rushed forward, stopping him. “What are you doing?”

  “I am going to wash my body.”

  “Not here! Little soldier.”

  Malik frowned. “Why?”

  The girl sighed. “Not here. There is a place for that.”

  She walked him to a small alcove with a leather curtain hanging over it.

  “What’s that leather for?”

  “To hide you while you wash.”

  “Hide me from who?”

  “Thought so,” she muttered. “Here is the bucket. Clean yourself. And take these.”

  She handed him a pile of cloth.

  “But... this is a dress.”

  “It’s a sleeping shift. It’s all we have until we clean your rags, Malik.”

  “But I will look like a girl.”

  “Better to look like a clean girl than a dirty rat. Now go.”

  She pushed him behind the leather curtain.

  Ten minutes later, Malik stepped out.

  He was wearing the oversized shift. He looked at his arms.

  They were pale, thin, and covered in old scars that were finally visible without the mud.

  “At least he looks clean,” one of the girls said.

  On the other side, Ruther was eating a piece of dry bread with Andree.

  “Malik has been gone for a while now. It’s already dark,” Andree said.

  “Maybe he liked the place. Maybe he decided to stay there.”

  Ruther stopped chewing. “How didn’t I think of that.”

  Ruther took his cloak and his dagger.

  He ran, getting out of the sewers, then he reached the West Breach.

  He found a body in the hole.

  “Oh no,” Ruther said.

  Then he heard footsteps.

  “Took me three hours to find this rusty piece of sh—”

  The soldier saw Ruther. He dropped the ladder he had dragged all this way.

  Ruther drove the dagger into the soldier's eye slit. The man collapsed without a sound.

  He took the sword from the soldier’s waist.

  Ruther looked at the sword. He weighed it in his hand and he nodded.

  He took the ladder the soldier had brought. He raised it and put it on the other side.

  Ruther climbed down, looking at the dead soldier’s face, and he smiled.

  He started walking the long road and he got inside the hole.

  He crawled through the tunnel. He dropped into the room.

  Instantly, five knives were pressed against his throat. "We don’t have any visitors today," a girl hissed. She squinted in the torchlight. "Ruther?"

  Ruther raised his hand. “Easy girls. I am just here to take Malik.”

  They lowered the knives and no one talked.

  “Where is he?”

  No one answered, until one girl broke the silence.

  “Let him stay with us, Ruther.”

  Ruther raised his eyebrow. “Really? You think he is worth more than the others? You think he deserves warmth while his brothers freeze?”

  “Where is he?”

  They stayed silent for a moment, then they looked at him.

  “He is in the sleeping room.”

  Ruther sighed and he walked to the sleeping quarters. He found Malik standing up on a bed and the girls sitting around him.

  They were listening to a story of the Big Day.

  “Then Ruther went inside and he grabbed the Princess from her hair.”

  “Ouch, that hurts.”

  “He grabbed her hair? Poor girl.”

  “Story time is over. Get up.”

  “Ruther! But I want to stay. It’s warm in here.”

  Ruther got on his knees. “This is a coffin with a fire inside. If you stay, you die comfortably. If you come with me, you live free.”

  “I don’t care about that Ruther, I just want to feel warm,” Malik said, crying.

  “Let him stay Ruther.”

  “He doesn't eat much, Ruther. We can share our rations. Just... let him sleep in the warmth for one night.”

  Ruther looked at Malik.

  “Malik. Do you remember the song?”

  “I don't want the song!”

  “But what is life a cage of bone, a cage made of flesh and stone.” Ruther whispered.

  Malik stayed silent.

  Ruther continued. “Our fathers rot in fear and rust, they eat the mud, they eat the dust.”

  “We sell the cage,” Ruther said.

  “We sell the skin,” Malik whispered.

  “To free the soul that screams within,” they whispered together.

  “Come. Let us get back to our brothers.”

  Malik nodded. He changed back into his dried rags.

  "Goodbye, Malik," the older girl whispered. She pressed a small, hard bar into his hand. "Soap," she mouthed.

  “Hide this. If the other boys see it, they'll steal it—or eat it. Keep it hidden.”

  “I will.”

  They waved at them and they crawled back from the hole.

  They started walking toward the city. The wind came and Malik started to shiver.

  Ruther took off his heavy cloak. The cold wind hit Ruther immediately, but he didn't flinch.

  He wrapped the cloak around Malik. It was so big it dragged on the ground.

  "You'll be cold,” Malik said.

  "I'm used to it,” Ruther said.

  “Did you see the body of the soldier I killed?”

  “Yeah, you smashed him,” Ruther said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “Of course I did.”

  Ruther smiled and they walked together towards the darkness.