Page 100 of The Princesses of Ruin
There was no sleep to be had in the ga’hanoi city. Despite the glowing crystal buildings—which are used for communication—calming down significantly at the time the city called tide-rest, it was too alien for either of us to relax. So today, we swim to the open end of the crater weary and drained.
I haven’t seen the sun since we dove off the deck of our ship some thirty hours ago. I’m scared to use my magic in the water. If there isn’t enough for a speedy return journey like Jasper and I agreed on, we’ll be at much greater risk. Unless the ga’hanoi escort us back as well.
Vek’ihr doesn’t come to collect us from the tiny dwelling filled with sand. Instead, the delegate of procreation escorts us with another six I don’t recognize. They all speak their light-color-dance language to one another as we go.
The city empties into the massive arena set up at the edge of the crater. There’s another tunnel that looks much like the one we entered through, except it flows out. I can sense the pull of the water.
Several ga’hanoi move past the opening and…
Take a shit.
It’s their shit hole.
Of course they need a way to expel waste from the city. This is a controlled space and a controlled population. That’s why there’s a delegate of waste, I suppose. I wish I could remember all of them. I’ll need Kazimir to craft me some kind of waterproof paper for note-taking in the future.
The inhabitants of the crater gather in droves, blocking out the quiet city behind us. Nothing flashes or glows. Everyone is still.
Our escort moves into the open space and addresses the masses. The color and light dance is a mystery to me. I lean closer to Jasper.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve only gleaned small things. Certain colors’ meaning, speed of flashing indicating excitement or irritation. Easy things to grasp that I’m sure you have too,” he says.
But I haven’t. I’ve been swept up in what’s happening, worried about what’s going on at home and the dead tired blanketing my weary body. Swimming for hours on end was exhausting, and the small food rations we brought were little help when combined with insomnia.
The ga’hanoi around us glow brightly, most of them a soft pink color, but some of them an off-blue. The delegate of procreation turns and gestures.
Vek’ihr emerges from the crowd with another ga’hanoi.
“What’s happening?”
Jasper’s spines stand straight up. “He’s been sentenced to death for his outburst last night.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m guessing. It’s likely. The way he stood up to the delegate…the way he spoke after. How he distanced himself from the clan.”
“But why?” I ask, fear pumping through my heart.
The ga’hanoi slowly all shift to the soft pink color, and the delegate of procreation leaves the arena.
“You may proceed,” he says, the eerie grind of his voice turning my stomach.
“I’m not killing Vek’ihr,” I say, not sure to whom, but I need to say it out loud. “He’s been our guide, or translator. We need him.”
“He is no longer useful to us,” the delegate says.
Vek’ihr and the other singled-out ga’hanoi move. They grip their protective arms in stronger tentacles and—
Rip them out!
I scream, the sound slow in the heavy water.
Ga’hanoi from the audience come forward and collect the bits they’ve ripped off themselves and push them up under their limbs.
Eating them.
“Vek’ihr, please, there must be some misunderstanding,” I say, swimming forward.
