Page 103 of Earthbound

‘Hello,’ Yeeran said.

Malak stood up slowly. ‘Listen, Yeeran—’

‘You knew they’d send the rats in if you didn’t show up.’

He didn’t deny it. ‘I cannot control what the chieftains decide.’

‘Let us not play this game, Malak. You know exactly what the chieftains are doing, because you’re the one influencing it.’

‘You overestimate my influence, greatly.’

Yeeran gripped the bars of the prison and leaned in. ‘I think not.’

They regarded each other, and for a brief second Yeeran saw his expression change. Gone was the affable man she had come to know; in his place was a man cut from ambition. His face relaxed into a smile again and she began to wonder whether she had imagined the ruthless expression.

‘I admit, I have been trying to sway them to sign the peace treaty, as you well know. The rats were a cruel weapon that I tried to persuade them against. Do not forget I warned you.’

‘Did you?’ She drew level with him.

‘I told you they had contingencies!’ he said, his gaze imploring. But Yeeran’s anger was ice.

‘You realise your secrecy will cause hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths?’

Malak walked to the cell bars smiling sadly. She wished she could read his mind, see the thoughts that wove that smile. ‘Yeeran, it’s a war. People were always going to die.’

He was right. But she couldn’t shake the betrayal she felt.

‘I trusted you,’ she said quietly.

‘You should never trust those on the opposite side of the negotiating table.’

Again, he was right.

‘I couldn’t betray the army’s secrets,’ he continued more gently. ‘What I said was enough to be tried for treason in front of the other chieftains. I did what I could.’

She felt her anger begin to thaw, but then he added, ‘Don’t you remember what it is like to be loyal to the army?’

Despite her profession, Yeeran wasn’t an innately violent person, and a part of her also knew that Malak didn’t intend for his words to wound with insult–he was only trying to find common ground. But wound they still did.

She reached through the bars and pulled Malak towards her until his face was pressed against the metal.

‘My loyalty lies on the side of life, Malak. Tell me, have you had the wasting pox before?’

‘No,’ he said. To his credit, he did not fight against her grip, his eyes downcast in submission.

‘The disease gnaws at the muscles, taking your strength until there is nothing left but fetid skin. It consumes, and it doesn’t stop until it has taken all of you.’

Malak trembled and shame pierced Yeeran’s rage. This was not the way to negotiate. She released him and he dropped to the ground panting.

‘We need access to the Wasted Marshes to forage for hister flowers. We’ll be willing to trade your freedom for a few hours on the surface.’

‘You would give me up for that?’ he said, surprised.

Yeeran thought of Furi, curled up in her sickbed, fading away with each second. She’d do anything to save her. ‘We need the flower. And now, so do you.’

Malak blanched. ‘You’re afflicted?’

Yeeran held her bare hands out. She had entirely forgotten to put her gloves back on, but the mistake presented the perfect ruse. ‘Most certainly. See, no gloves, and I’ve spent all day tending to the sick.’