We continued forward despite the difficult-to-maneuver terrain and the threatening glances from the residents, some of whom looked as if they couldn't decide if we were something to run from, something to eat, or possibly both.
We couldn’t trust any of them, even the elderly or those too obviously ill to represent any real danger. We were strangers. We didn’t dress or look like them, and we were obviously better fed. The team had to keep their heads on swivels. We couldn’t let the smallest sound go unnoticed. Every glance, shift of body weight, and gesture had to be watched closely.
The others on my team were beginning to show signs of exhaustion from continuous stress. Little things like stepping on unnoticed bits of rubble and accidentally kicking small pebbles resulted in whispered curses. We’d entered the city amped up for a fight and hadn’t been confronted. The anticipation of a battle could be as grueling as the battle itself.
“What do you know about Tortengar?” I said softly to Nyna, giving her and the others a minor yet much-needed distraction.
“Not much,” she said. “He’s an asshole. But that’s common knowledge. Oh—I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud. Insulting the vizier is punishable by death or something like that, you know?”
“No,” I said. “Martian law forbids disrespecting superior officers or displaying any other kind of insubordination. But politicians are fair game. They need to know when they’re making mistakes and hurting their own citizens. Without frequent feedback, they assume they’re always doing the right thing. Then, this happens.”
I gestured toward a group of three young kakul, frog-like creatures with round, black eyes. They looked up to my team with hungry eyes. The ones I’d met before, when first entering Brazud, had been flying a small civilian hovercraft. They were fat, well-dressed, full of energy, and though they were terrible drivers, they tried hard.
These young kakuls, however, were different. Their dark eyes were dull instead of bright. Their clothing looked like it was made of dish towels, and though it covered them well, it hung on their bodies loosely.
While the other continued to stare, one of them stood up. They’d caught a small rat-like creature and were dissecting it, looking for tasty bits.
“Nyna,” I whispered to her as she broke from the group and started walking toward the little hungry creature.
The other kakul stopped dissecting the creature. I heard the popping of leather and knew some of my team were curling their fingers, either into fists or around the hilts of their weapons. I didn’t want a fight so far from the palace, though. It would give the guards a chance to find us and become suspicious long before we got the opportunity to question Tortengar personally. But we couldn't let one of our own get hurt.
“Are you hungry?” Nyna asked the creature as it approached her.
I took a small step to my right to make sure Nyna wouldn't be in the way if I had to charge in. Other than looking hungry and walking toward Nyna, the kakul wasn’t making any obvious signs of hostility.
“Here,” she said, holding one of her cloth-wrapped rations out to the creature.
The kakul stretched both arms out from barely a yard away and stared at the package for a moment.
“Thank you,” it finally whispered.
Nyna returned as it walked away, looking slightly alarmed at the team’s obviously defensive posture.
“Sorry,” she said, “I probably should’ve warned you I was going to do that. I don’t eat a lot, so one of the rations I brought was basically extra, you know?” She turned and watched the two young kakuls as they carefully untied the ration and began to eat.
“You are kind,” Beatrix said. “There are many who would look the other way. You are not like those people.” Her tentacle-hair undulated like waves on an ocean.
“This is what Tortengar has done to his city,” Nyna whispered. “I used to come here to look for supplies. I found some good stuff too. Tech, but none of it was Void-tech. Sometimes, I’d find materials for other projects I wanted to do, but usually, nothing too fancy. Sometimes, I’d come here just to help out. The Ish-Nul don’t have a lot of need for someone who fixes things they don’t even use. But I haven’t been back here in three cycles, at least. It’s just too depressing.”
“What does Tortengar look like?” I asked.
I hoped when I found him, I’d know it right away. Then, the only decision to make would be whether to cut him in half vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. After I asked him a few questions, of course.
“I don’t know,” Nyna said. “He dresses like he’s fancy or starving for attention, you know? All gold and red and shit like that. He usually has on a dress-kind of thing. A robe maybe. And a cloak, even when it’s hot. No hair on his face, and I don’t think he has any on his head. Maybe it’s normal for his kind.”
She quieted as we walked between a couple of narrow buildings, ducked under a low-hanging, rusted metal pipe, stepped over another, and walked around a third that would have fit me inside that stuck straight up out of the ground.
I craned my neck to see where it went, but it was swallowed up in the building overhanging six or seven yards above my head. A lizard-skinned alien was working on the side of one of the buildings with a small torch. The scaffolding he stood on was tied together with small bits of scrap wire and lengths of woven cloth. Keeping his job seemed more important than safety to the worker, even though starvation and falling 30 feet both resulted in death.
“He’s tall,” Nyna continued as she gave a snoring alien who looked like a curly-haired porcupine and smelled of sulfur a wide berth. “Skinny, too. Which is kind of weird, because he’s super-wealthy. He could buy all the food he
