It’s certainly not what Anzares wants.
Anzares kicks Nazirah hard in the leg with renewed intensity. “Bitch, get up!”
Many of the recruits feel Nazirah receives special treatment because her brother is a Commander. They are practically begging Grum to pair them up with her. Nazirah rises to her feet once more, standing passively in front of Anzares, waiting for the next attack. It won’t be long now. Won’t be long until Nazirah gets what she’s been waiting for.
It’s been like this for two weeks.
On the first day, even though Nazirah had fought plenty in the past, she froze up. She was unable to move, unable to strike out at her opponent. It was like when she met Adamek at the prison. She wanted to kill him so badly, but pulled away at the last moment.
Is she a coward? Had it started then?
Nazirah thinks it probably started four months before that, on the night she found her parents and everything changed. She changed; she isn’t that same carefree girl she was. She feels sick at the thought of hurting another person, feels unbearable guilt at the sight of another’s blood. She doesn’t even see her opponents before her anymore, but rather the haunting faces of Riva and Kasimir. She sees their hollow, accusing eyes asking Nazirah the same question she has asked herself for months.
Why didn’t you save us?
It overwhelms her. So she stands there, reveling in her guilt and shame, and feels salvation in the punches. She embraces the pain that comes with the blows and beatings, and the blissful relief that follows. Because this is what she deserves. This is what, if just for a moment, makes her feel something besides guilt … besides nothing at all.
But Anzares doesn’t see this.
Grum doesn’t see this.
The rest of the class doesn’t see this.
All they see is a girl who won’t fight. Who won’t even try. And this enrages them.
Anzares throws Nazirah a final punch to the cheek. Nazirah sees the blessed stars for a second before collapsing to the floor on her knees.
Like she’s in prayer.
Because isn’t she?
And isn’t this her salvation?
“Enough,” Grum says, shaking his head. He holds his scarred hands up, indicating that Anzares can stop and that class is over. “Enough,” he repeats, more to himself.
Anzares spits on the floor and cracks her neck before walking out the door. The rest of the class quietly follows. Taj and Lumi look hesitantly at each other, knowing that Nazirah doesn’t like to be helped. Cato gives them a reassuring nod. They both shrug their shoulders and walk outside.
“Come on,” Cato says, helping Nazirah to her feet and supporting her weight. “I’ll take you to Bilungi.”
They make the short journey to the compound’s hospital, which they could both trek in their sleep by now. The walk is longer than usual since Nazirah is hunched over, needing to lean on Cato for support. The first day this happened, two weeks back, Cato picked Nazirah up to carry her. Nazirah screamed at him and threw a fit. She doesn’t want his help any more than necessary. This is her burden and hers alone.
Cato doesn’t try to pick her up anymore.
Several minutes later, they hobble into the makeshift emergency room. It’s a small room, narrow, with several hospital beds lined side-by-side. Thankfully, only one is currently occupied, partitioned by a sheer white curtain in the far corner.
The head healer on duty, Bilungi, is speaking to someone softly behind the partition. Bilungi is a pure Deathlander from Rubiyat. She has ebony skin and wears a perpetually harsh expression. She also has extremely unorthodox methods of healing.
Cato gently leads Nazirah to the nearest open bed, forcing her to sit down. “Healer Bilungi!” he yells loudly, one hand cupped to the side of his face. “Your afternoon walk-in is here!” Cato gives Nazirah a searching look. He must be itching to know why she’s suddenly unable to fight, after a lifetime of scrapping with nasty Eridians. But Cato doesn’t ask.
And Nazirah doesn’t offer.
She doesn’t know how to explain this self-inflicted karma – this all-consuming guilt she feels all the time and the release that comes from the pain of getting beaten up. She can tell it’s wearing on him.
“Give me a moment, Miss Nation,” Bilungi says, her voice muffled behind the curtain.
Nazirah lies back on the hospital bed, gingerly touching her swollen cheek and bloody forehead. Her abdomen burns, and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth makes her queasy. From Cato’s worried looks, Nazirah knows she’s in bad shape.
“You really should have come to see me about this earlier,” Bilungi says, characteristically ominous, behind the partition. Nazirah watches Bilungi’s silhouette through the sheer curtain as she tightly bandages someone’s shoulder with a roll of thick gauze. She finishes wrapping quickly, hands the person their shirt, and says they are free to go. Nazirah wishes she were so lucky.
Bilungi appears from behind the partition, looking at Nazirah with her usual mixture of concern and derision. “That’s the fourth time this week,” she says, as if she doesn’t believe it. She walks over to Nazirah, inspecting her injuries methodically.
“Well, we didn’t have class on Tuesday,” Nazirah says, trying to make light of the situation.
Both Cato and Bilungi glare at her. Bilungi prods Nazirah’s abdomen, causing her to hiss in pain. “You have internal bleeding,” she says.
Nazirah and Cato share a concerned look. Bilungi rifles through a cabinet, pulling out a muddy-looking vial of liquid. She hands it to Nazirah, who inspects its contents. It’s slightly chunky, like mud and grass in bloody water. She has gotten used to Bilungi’s odd range of concoctions and brews, but this is a first. “What is it?”
“Drink it and I’ll tell you.”
Bilungi is a coy old bitch.
“What if I’m allergic?”
“Then you die.”
Closing her eyes, Nazirah tips the vial back, gagging as the muddy liquid slides down her throat. Swallowing and grimacing, she thrusts the vial back into Bilungi’s hands. Almost immediately, she feels relief spreading across her abdomen, like tiny warm hands stitching her insides back together.
“That’s incredible,” Nazirah says, “and incredibly disgusting. What was it?”
“Just silt, some holy water from the River Syx, and chicken blood.”
Nazirah holds back another gag. “Oh, is that all?” she snips.
“And, of course, some embezzled MEDIcine.”
“MEDIcine?”
“Medicine from Mediah. It’s extremely expensive.”
“And you don’t think that maybe, just maybe, I only needed to take that last ingredient?”
“No,” she says. Bilungi disposes of the empty vial and Nazirah bites her tongue. She wonders if the MEDIcine has come from one of Adamek’s connections. Bilungi picks up the jar of healing salve, needle, and thread that Nazirah is much more familiar with. Bilungi looks up at Cato, as if just realizing he is still there. “That will be all, Mr. Caal,” she says firmly, nodding towards the door. Cato is about to protest, but Bilungi cuts him off. “Miss Nation is greatly in need of rest and I need to address her wounds. The faster she is allowed to heal, the faster you can see her again.”
Cato looks like he’s thinking about arguing, but from the look on Bilungi’s face, knows it will be pointless. He leans over and gives Nazirah a gentle kiss on her uninjured cheek. She smiles up at him lazily, head a bit foggy from MEDIcine and chicken blood. “I’ll see you later, Irri,” he says, before leaving.
Bilungi goes to work immediately, stitching up the cut above Nazirah’s eye expertly. She is beginning to apply the healing salve on Nazirah’s cheek when someone storms into the room. It is Nikolaus, and he is pissed.
“Nazirah, what is wrong with you?” Nikolaus yells, towering over the hospital bed.
Bilungi’s lips narrow into a thin line as she continues applying the salve to Nazirah’s cheek. She clearly doesn’t want Nikolaus agitating her patient, but she doesn’t say anything to stop him. Bilungi is probably wondering the same thing herself, since Nazirah has visited her almost every day for weeks.