Lachas

Pyos arrives in Lachas.

Chapter 3: Lachas

Pyos scuffed idly at the carpet with one raggedy shoe. He felt distinctly out-of-place; he had seen rooms like this on the blurry television in Anulan’s house, but he had never in his life imagined he would one day be standing in one. It was huge, with a ceiling that made a glowing arch far above. The light was soft and low.

 

Several feet away Shada was conversing with a man in Lachan. Pyos couldn’t understand a word, but he watched them curiously. The man had green eyes, and he wore all black; there was something in Shada’s stance that suggested this man was boss. And it was not just in Shada’s stance, it was stamped all over the house: the guards outside, masquerading as house staff; the pillared hall; the plush carpet, deep red�"the man carried himself like a king at home in his kingdom.

 

Shada called him ‘Baneka’. Periodically they would glance over at Pyos, as if they were discussing him, and Pyos would tip his head to one side.

 

The carpet was so soft. One part of him wanted to lay down and sleep; even with the food and medicine Shada had given him, Pyos still felt heavy and cold, and there was an ache in his chest. Now and then he rasped a cough.

 

Still, another part of him wanted to stay awake forever. He had gotten off the plane just hours ago, putting his worn shoes down on new land. Right away he took in air that was colder and cleaner than Les; his heart was still racing from the plane ride and he felt simultaneously exhausted and ecstatic. He saw Lachaskan off the runway�"largest city on the planet sprawled out between the mountains, bristling with buildings that went up into the sky forever. There were no skyscrapers in Lenka. He was very far from home.

 

The ride in was even better. They boarded a car on rails that dropped down from the airport, the sudden speed putting a strange pressure on Pyos’s ears. The car made a loose arc into the city and it was like entering a forest, if forests were forged from silver steel and white and blue light. From the train station, they moved to a smaller car, this time so small it was only Pyos and Shada inside�"a car like the ones in Lenka. But this one drove itself, and there were no signs or lines in the street, only the glow that was everywhere. Pyos had never seen so many people.

 

And now he was here, standing in a spectacular room with a vaulted ceiling and pillars so wide he could barely reach all the way around them. His life had changed so much in the past few days. Pyos had no idea what Shada and Baneka were talking about, but he felt optimistic.

 

 

�-�          �-�          �-�

 

 

“So you’re saying he saved your life…over a sandwich.” Baneka quirked his eyebrows up.

 

“Yeah,” Shada said. “That sandwich woulda cost about three royas here, but look at him, he’s starving. I guess it looked like a lot more to him.”

 

Baneka nodded absently. He scrutinized the kid across the room with narrowed eyes, appraising. The kid was a walking skeleton, all sharp edges and shivers, and his skin was waxy and dark around his eyes. His black hair was a tangled mess that reached to his shoulders.

 

He looked like a stray dog made human. Weak, sick.

 

But Baneka’s eyes were sharp and he saw something else, too. Everywhere the kid showed skin there were scars; long, faint ones along his arms, short snips on the heels of his hands, grazes along his throat, his jaw, his face. He saw scarred knuckles and two fat lines drawn across the bridge of the kid’s buckled, offcenter nose.

 

He looked like someone who had fought many battles in his life. Tough, tempered.

 

“What do you think?” Shada said.

 

Baneka turned his gaze back to Shada. The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I think perhaps they were three royas well-spent.”