Malysh sat on a ledge, listening to the racing sewer water. Two months ago the world had made sense. Now he was confused. Someone liked him, not because he could handle a knife, not because he was useful, someone liked him because… he couldn’t exactly say. Why did Zoya like him? He’d never been liked before. There was no logic to it. She’d saved his life for no reason. Presented with an opportunity to escape, she’d not only turned it down, she’d risked her life for him.
Fraera approached, sitting beside him, their legs dangling side by side like friends on a riverbank, except instead of fish and fallen leaves passing them by, the city’s waste flowed beneath their feet. Fraera asked:
– Why are you hiding here?
Malysh wanted to remain silent, petulant, but it was an unforgivable insult not to reply, so he muttered:
– I don’t feel well.
To his surprise Fraera laughed:
– Two months ago you would’ve killed that girl and not thought anything of it.
Fraera rested a hand on his shoulder:
– I need to know if you will do anything I order, without question.
– I have never disobeyed you.
– You have never disagreed with anything I’ve ordered you to do.
Malysh couldn’t counter-it was true, he’d never had a contrary opinion, until now. She’d pushed him together with Zoya in order to test him. She’d manufactured his relationship with Zoya in order to measure it against her relationship with him.
– Malysh, when I was imprisoned, I heard a story, told by a Chechen convict. It comes from a Nartian epic, about a hero called Soslan. It is the custom of Narts to avenge not only wrongs committed against them but any committed against their family or ancestors, no matter how ancient the crime. Quarrels last for hundreds of years. Soslan spent his entire life in pursuit of revenge. When you come of age, Malysh, you will need a new name. I had hoped it would be Soslan.
Though her voice hadn’t changed, Malysh sensed danger. Fraera stood up:
– Follow me.
Malysh followed Fraera through the tunnels and chambers to Zoya’s cell. She unlocked the door. Zoya was standing in the corner, having heard them approach. She sought confirmation in Malysh’s eyes that something was wrong. Fraera took hold of Zoya’s wrist, pulling her toward the door. Confused, Malysh didn’t know whether to obey or protest. Before he could make up his mind, Fraera slammed the door, locking him in.