And he left Nazirah, curled on the floor, to pick up the pieces.
#
The old bus turns sharply onto the prison grounds, jolting Nazirah back to the present. Nazirah notices the large woman staring suspiciously and shifts uncomfortably in her half-seat. Nazirah tries to conceal her face more with the headscarf, praying the woman won’t recognize her.
Niko wasn’t entirely correct in his assumption that Nazirah would go unnoticed. Sure, she is small, but everyone in the country knows her. The camera crews and reporters that showed up at their parents’ funeral saw to that. Nazirah’s face, wide eyed and grieving, was plastered on every newspaper and television in the country for weeks. She was portrayed as the young, orphaned intermix, daughter of dangerous anarchists … the living consequence of territories interacting.
All the while, Chancellor Gabirel Morgen preached from his Median pulpit. He spread vicious lies and propaganda about Riva and Kasimir, calling them rebel parasites that had to be dealt with to ensure the continuing peace of Renatus. He needed a scapegoat to pin the rebellion on. And her parents, interracially married with intermix children, scum of the earth and leeching the country’s resources for their own welfare, were perfect targets. It was a warning to everyone in the country.
Don’t challenge the authority of Mediah, or this could be you.
The Chancellor’s only son, Adamek, part-time playboy, part-time soldier, was touted as a war hero. Already infamous, training to eventually take his father’s place in government, Adamek was no stranger to slaughtering citizens in the name of justice. And now, he bravely took matters into his own hands, putting an end to the Nation threat once and for all.
How or why Adamek Morgen, Medi, son of the Chancellor, renowned sociopath, had turned himself over to the rebellion … Nazirah has no idea. As far as the rest of the country knows, he is still in Mediah, killing and whoring and doing whatever it is he normally does. Even though Nazirah’s brain tells her Nikolaus is an idiot, her heart cannot believe he’s dumb enough to trust Adamek without substantial proof. But Nazirah doesn’t know what that proof could be, and she frankly doesn’t care. All she knows is that Adamek will walk. And she is helping him do it.
The large woman nonchalantly reaches her heavy, hennaed hand out and gives Nazirah’s own a reassuring squeeze. Shocked, Nazirah glances at her, but her expression is unreadable. The woman addresses one of her children, the eldest daughter. The girl stares curiously at Nazirah and slowly offers her one golden bangle. Nazirah looks between the two of them, hesitating for a moment before accepting the token.
“Thank you.”
Nazirah slips the bangle on her wrist, hoping they understand. The girl looks at her happily and returns to playing with her brothers. The gift is exactly something Riva would have made a younger Nazirah do, and the moment is bittersweet.
They are waved through several guarded gates, electrified and barbed. The bus finally passes the last checkpoint, braking in front of the prison entrance.
Stepping outside, Nazirah feels nauseous, even though she hasn’t eaten in almost a day. Lunch with Cato is a distant memory. Nazirah didn’t see him last night, like she planned to. She just sobbed in Niko’s office alone for a long time, eventually dragging herself to bed two hours before she had to wake up again.
Nazirah stares at the looming fortress, stomach in knots. She searches for the woman who sat next to her, but she’s already gone. Nazirah gathers her courage and follows a group of visitors through the gates of hell.
Nazirah looks around, trying to figure out what happens next. Nikolaus told her to seek out Solomon, the chief of security who also happens to be a rebel spy. But Nazirah has no idea how to find him.
Luckily, she doesn’t have to wonder for long. A tall, muscled man, with closely cropped hair and several earrings in each ear, walks stiffly up to her. He scans her face. Nazirah is unsure if she should speak and reveal herself, so she remains quiet. The man inclines his head slightly and walks away. Nazirah considers the potential ramifications for only a moment, before chasing after him.
He walks through a heavy iron door, not bothering to hold it for her. By the time Nazirah manages to wrest it open, he is already turning a corner down the hallway. Nazirah sprints after him, trying to keep up, because she would rather be with this complete stranger than get lost in the prison alone. She catches up, panting, as he begins climbing a staircase. Nazirah notes gratefully that his strides have slowed.
“Excuse me, Solomon…”
He gives Nazirah a sharp look as they exit the staircase, cutting her off. Apparently, Solomon is not a big talker. They walk through another corridor and he finally stands in front of a single door. Here goes everything, Nazirah thinks, as she enters the room.
The person standing before her is definitely not Adamek Morgen. For starters, he’s a full head shorter than Nazirah. He has light brown skin, sparkling eyes, a huge smile, and a miniature red fez on his head.
He is also literally hopping with excitement.
“Oh, Miss Nation!” The small man clasps his hands around one of hers, shaking it enthusiastically. “What an unexpected delight to see you here this afternoon! I was expecting your surly brother to walk through my door, and instead I get this lotus flower!”
“Uh … thank you,” Nazirah replies. “Not to be rude, sir, but who are you?”
The man does not look insulted in the least. He extends his small frame forward into a bow so deep his nose nearly brushes the floor. “Solomon Salaahi, at your service,” he tells her with a flourish.
“You’re Solomon?”
“Expecting someone taller?” Solomon smiles knowingly, as Nazirah’s face flushes in embarrassment. “Please follow me,” he says, leading her through another door.
The next room is circular, with security monitors of every prison cell lining the walls. In the center of the room, there is a large circuit panel, with hundreds of gadgets and buttons. The blinking neon lights make Nazirah dizzy. Solomon waves his hands emphatically as he walks, clearly proud of his life’s work.
“This is my office and home away from home,” he says richly, “otherwise known as the control room.” Solomon hops onto a small chair, cranking a lever in the side. Slowly, he rises up to meet Nazirah’s height. Beads of sweat form on his brow from the exertion.
“It’s very … interesting,” Nazirah says, looking around.
“Thank you kindly,” Solomon says. He is momentarily distracted as his sleeve catches in the armrest. “As you can … obviously tell … this is an extremely sensitive matter requiring immediate action. We thank you for coming here on such short notice, even though the journey is long and tiresome. I trust you have found the Deathlands charming though, yes? Are they not something?”
‘Charming’ isn’t exactly the word Nazirah would use. Her face is still itching from all the dust. “It’s definitely something,” she mutters. And then, honestly, “It’s captivating.”
“Wonderful!” Solomon claps his hands together. “I will let you get to it, then. Have no fear, Miss Nation. My trusty servant Olag here will escort you to Mr. Morgen’s interrogation room.” Solomon indicates the surly man who brought Nazirah here, now standing quietly to one side of the room. “His tongue was cut out as a child, so he does not speak, but he is fiercely loyal. He will be in the room with you the entire time. And I,” he taps a video monitor emphatically, “will be watching to make sure you have no … difficulties.” He clears his throat.
“Got it,” Nazirah says queasily. “Thank you, Solomon, but I would rather see him alone.”
Solomon is clearly intrigued and says something to Olag in Deathlandic. Olag nods and opens the door beside him, this time holding it for Nazirah. “You are much more like your brother than you let on,” Solomon says. “Olag will take you to see Mr. Morgen now, and will wait for you outside of the room. The rest is up to you. Good luck.”