Chapter Twelve: Questions

Ynkeri makes her way back to Lukas and the group, but at a high cost.

    Ynkeri couldn’t tell how long she’d been in the dark when she heard footsteps outside the door. Her eyes were heavy, but she’d forced herself to stay awake, not knowing what would come next. After what felt like several minutes, the door opened and two men stepped through. Though she could not see them well in the dim light, she recognized the voice of Jennicks.  

            “Ask your questions, but if she does not answer them rightly, do not lie to me on account of her being a girl.”

            “Do you think I would be that stupid?” Ynkeri’s heart went into her throat. The voice was lower than she remembered, but she recognized it. Lukas. She wanted to call out to him, but fear gripped her. She wondered for a moment if this was real.

            “What did you have in your hands when we first met?” he asked.

            “A dead cat and a metal rod,” she replied, tears in her eyes. Why doesn’t he just come look at me? She could hear him take a sharp breath inwards.

            “Anyone could answer that question, given they had enough time with the real girl. Ask her something she wouldn’t have thought to tell.” Jennicks said.

            “What did the old man call you when you first met?” Lukas asked, still standing near the door.

“A flower.” Ynkeri answered, her throat rasping. She realized she was terribly thirsty. She’d spoken more in the last few hours than she had in months.

“It’s her, I know it.” Lukas said, his voice tense.

“One more- just to be sure. Something no one would be able to answer, but her,” Jennicks instructed in a calm, even tone. It took a few seconds for Lukas to ask his last question, the silence hard to bear.

Finally, with a quaver in his voice he asked, “What mistake did the Wise Quail say you made?”

Ynkeri bit her lip before she answered, careful to keep Heli’s name out of her answer. “The Wise Quail said it was a mistake to trust you.”

            “Jennicks, it’s her. I know it is. Turn on the lights and let me see her,” Lukas pleaded. Ynkeri could hear footsteps and then a click. A bright light blinded her for several seconds. When she opened her eyes again, Lukas was kneeling down beside her. He was older and bigger, but she recognized his eyes. Behind him, she saw the room they’d kept her in, which was as sparse as the echo made it feel. A metal chair and a cabinet, both bolted to the floor, sat in the opposite corner. Ynkeri shuddered to think what that was for.

            “I wish she hadn’t been right, but she’s right about most things,” Lukas was saying, as she re-focused her attention on his smile, which looked sad. His eyes welled up, suddenly. “I should have made them stay. I wanted to stay and wait for you.”  He reached out to brush a clump of matted hair from her face, but she shied away from him. She regretted the instinct when she saw the hurt on his face, and looked away.

            “Can I get rid of these,” Lukas asked, gesturing to her bound wrists. Ynkeri nodded. With strong hands, Lukas loosened the ropes until Ynkeri could squeeze out of the loops and then began working on the tightly wound cord at her ankles.

Ynkeri didn’t know exactly what, but as the ropes came off, something broke in her and she began to sob. She cried in relief and in fear. She found Lukas like she set out to all those months ago, but she had also done terrible things. Heli would send her away when she found out, she knew she would.

“I don’t want to be alone again,” she whispered to Lukas. “Please don’t leave me anymore.”

The boy with the blue eyes smiled through his own tears and shook his head. “Never. I promise.”

∞

            After that, Lukas asked her if she was strong enough to make one last trip. Despite being tired and hungry, she said yes, eager to leave the two men who’d taken her knife, hit her over the head, and kept her tied up in the dark. She was glad Jennicks worked for Heli, but that didn’t make him less terrifying.

            The rest of the night was a blur of cold rain and running and then sudden warmth with lots of hushed whispers. At one point, Lukas scooped her up in his arms and carried her somewhere, but she was too tired to be afraid. The last thing she remembered was soft blankets before falling asleep.

            Ynkeri woke up to voices on the other side of a wall speaking. She lay still, listening carefully.

            “-clever, even if she’s near starved to death.” Ynkeri thought it sounded like Pik.   “Indeed,” returned another voice that could only be Heli, “clever, but very young.”

            “When has that ever been a reason not to consider a person? Alexander the Great conquered a vast portion of the First World before he was thirty.”

            “He’s a myth, for starters, Pik. You can’t use myths as examples. And she’s barely a teenager. You can’t expect that she would be prepared for such a journey.”

            “In all our searching, we’ve never seen anyone so resourceful or patient.” Ynkeri could hear Heli hrmph, but Pik kept going, “She’s not ready right this instant, that’s true, but if I started teaching her now…” Ynkeri was drifting back to sleep again, even as she willed herself to stay awake to hear what Pik and Heli were talking about.

            When she opened her eyes again, Lukas was sitting next to her, his chin on his chest, asleep. Sitting up, she sized the room to be about the same size as Catcombs, but with the door open, it was far brighter. The space was nearly empty except for a little, plastic cabinet and the blankets she slept in. She decided it was a bedroom, though probably not Lukas’.

            Looking down, she saw she was wearing a different shirt than the one she’d come in. Lifting a sleeve, she saw pale skin in place of dirt and realized she’d been bathed. She vaguely remembered a bath. They’ve seen the bruises, she thought, panicked. She’d have to come up with something. Something believable. Pik had said she was clever. She would be clever.

            “I see you’re awake, little flower,” Pik said from the doorway, startling her. “I’ve made some food for you.”

            Ynkeri looked to Lukas.

            “He’s been up a day and a night waiting for you to wake up. Let’s give him some time to rest?” Pik suggested. Ynkeri rose to her feet slowly and tip-toed out of the room, leaving Lukas breathing slow and steady.

            “Close the door behind you,” Heli instructed, already sitting down at a small table in the middle of the room. Ynkeri made sure the door shut quietly and then sat across from the old woman. Pik sat down beside her.

            Before her sat a bowl of steaming broth. On either side sat the spoon she’d taken from Hair-brain and the make-shift knife Jennicks had taken from her. She could feel her mouth go dry as she looked up.

            “I believe these are yours,” Heli said, her eyes critical.

            Ynkeri nodded and let out a trembling breath. It was just a matter of time before the questions would start. All she really wanted was to forget. If she could just forget, it would be like none of it happened.

            “You must be hungry,” Pik said, gesturing to the bowl. Ynkeri picked up her spoon, the one that had marked her height inside the closet and helped her break into Catacombs, the familiar weight a comfort.

            She sipped the broth without slurping. The hot, salty liquid tasted remarkably good, reminding her of the first bowl of oatmeal Lukas had given her. Ynkeri put down the spoon carefully when she reached the bottom of the bowl and looked to Heli.

            “Thank you,” she said, the sounds of gratitude on her tongue feeling strange. The old woman inclined her head and sat back, watching Ynkeri for a long moment. Finally, she spoke.

            “You’ve certainly proven you can handle yourself, Hero’s Daughter. Pik thinks you may be the answer to a problem we’ve been chewing on for some time, but I’m not sure yet.”

            “We do have some questions for you, as I’m sure you’ve guessed we might,” the old man added, his eyes more kindly than Heli’s. Ynkeri nodded, waiting anxiously with her hands gripping each other in her lap.

            “What happened the day you disappeared?” Heli asked, her back straightening in her seat as she waited for an answer.      

             “I went back to my old home. I know it was stupid, but I had to see it. I timed it over a week, watching the scanners. They’re on a schedule, where I’m from.”

            Both Pik and Heli nodded, seemingly unsurprised. Ynkeri continued, but as she described how she’d played a mute and escaped out the window of the second floor, she felt dumb. Why did she need to go back there?

            “Why take the spoon?” Pik asked as she got to the part where she made it back to the basement.

            Ynkeri hadn’t thought much about it, but replied after thinking about it for a few seconds, “It was heavy- solid. I thought it might be useful.” As proof, she described how she’d broken into the hiding place Lukas showed her. Somehow, though, Ynkeri knew that wasn’t the full answer.

            She continued to respond to their questions, one after the other. She answered questions until her throat was sore. There were things she did not speak of. She didn’t talk about the blue, dotted sweater. She didn’t talk about the bakery, preferring to erase it from her mind entirely. Nothing after the bakery had to happen, if it didn’t exist.

If Pik or Heli noticed gaps in her story they did not mention it, to Ynkeri’s relief. Finally, though Heli pointed to the knife she’d made.

“What about this?”

Ynkeri swallowed hard.

“There are a lot of kids who live like I did. I stayed away from them and they stayed away from me, but I wanted something to feel safe. I made it from scrap metal I found. The handle is strips of cloth from the inside of the jacket you gave me.” He’s dead. I killed him, Ynkeri thought suddenly, her hands trembling beneath the table. The baker boy’s face floated in her vision for a moment until she blinked him away. That never happened, she said to herself. It didn’t happen.

Pik nodded thoughtfully, his eyes trained on her. “That’s enough for now, child,” he said, rising to his feet.

            “I have more questions, Pik,” Heli replied, irritated.

            “They can wait,” Pik said, exasperated. Turning to Ynkeri, he asked, “I’ve got more soup in the kitchen- would you like some?”

            Relieved, Ynkeri nodded. Heli sat back, resigning herself to the old man’s will as he shuffled into an adjoining room. In the seconds it took for Pik to return, Ynkeri watched Heli as the old woman watched her. The silence acted as a sort of truce between them and it gave Ynkeri time to think about the next questions and how she might answer them.

            As Pik sat down a full bowl in front of her Ynkeri could see, this time, there was actual soup in it, not just broth. She tried to take her time, but it had been a while since she’d gotten the chance to eat her fill. The bowl was soon empty again.

            In the silence, the door behind her opened, startling her. Lukas emerged, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Ynkeri exhaled the initial fright in a long sigh, unaware of the white-knuckle hold she had on the knife until she noticed Heli half sitting, half standing. She released her grip, shamefaced, and darted from the table past Lukas who looked mystified.

            In the dark, she found the far corner and slumped down, facing the door. As she wept, she tried to wipe away the tears, but her shaking hands only got wet and snotty. She tried to think of what it was that was making her cry, but it didn’t make sense. Once she found Lukas everything was supposed to be ok, but it wasn’t. It was worse. 

Author's Note

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