Chapter 11 – Dusk
	Amon.  I know now I’ll never have the chance to tell you everything I’ve learned throughout my life, and impart on you my many failures, victories, and the points at which I wish I’d done it all differently.  All I ever wanted, from the time you were born, was to give you a life better than the one I’ve lived.  And I’ve failed in that, too.
	The worst part of it is, I don’t know how I could have changed any of it.  Every wrong I’ve committed, every fragment of hope I’ve had that’s pushed me onwards, every drop of blood I’ve spilled and every effort I’ve made. . . none of it could have overcome the odds that were set against us from the start.  If I’d fought harder, if I’d done nothing at all, you’d still be gone.
	If I’d agreed to come here with Ishaya, you’d still be gone.
	The world never cared about my choices, my struggles, or my pain.  There is no karma, or justice.  We were born poor, set up to fail, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered.  The circumstances of your birth are what cursed you, and me, and your mother.
	And my mother, and my father. . . and every generation that came before. . . .
	In the end, all we ever had was love.  It’s the one thing you can always find your way towards, even when you’re in chains.  It’s an escape when there is no escape.  And we had it.  Briefly. . . but it was ours and no one can buy it or sell it or take it away from us. 
	It’s all I have of you any more, or ever will again.  I love you, son.

	“I’m sorry, Kadar.”
	I hear those words dozens of times, from each of my friends, all that night.  Their sadness is as real as my own, and only matched by our exhaustion.  We’d come all this way. . . for nothing.  
Despite that, not a one of them blamed me.  There was nothing but empathy and shared sadness.
	But nothing could comfort me now, or ever again.  The one thing that had kept me strong through the years I’d been indentured was the hope, often a distant one, but always there, that I would find my family again someday.
	Now I knew that was impossible.
	It all came down to one line in a ledger, in the basement of an Immar manor on this tiny, lonely island.  Deceased.
	There was no explanation, no further story to be found or trail to follow.  This was it.  Ishaya had come here with my son, had indentured herself to this Clan, and they had died here.  Probably worked to death, or from an illness, or simple starvation.  I would never know.
	I chose to believe that Ishaya would never have sold our son into indentured servitude, but she may not have been given a choice.  My wife and I had many quarrels, but I couldn’t believe for a moment that she would have let Amon suffer.  He was just a small, fragile child, in a brutal place. . . and that place had killed him.  And many, many others.
	I no longer regretted anything I had done in the Immar manor.  Or the Sura manor.  Or at any point on the way here.  It was clear to me now that the only mistake I’d made all this time was not fighting harder.  Questioning myself.  
	Anala was right.  We were fighting a war, and in war people die.  The Clans had begun this one, centuries ago, when they began enslaving the poor and the weak, and those less able to defend themselves.  If they died by our blades now, they had earned it.
	Sometimes there is a justification for just about anything.  Nothing in Mataa was going to change until it was forced to change, with brutality, defiance, and the willingness to do what was necessary.  There would be no moral victory against these people.  Only victory. . . and that would be hard enough to come by.
	My mind is too awash with pain to contemplate the future, but I know one thing.  Whether or not we rise up against them this generation, or the next, or the next. . . people like us will continue to fight.   My wife and son were just two more casualties in an endless history of casualties, and this much death and suffering breeds anger in its wake.  A nation of anger.  There are so many throughout this country raising the battle cry against them.  Even their own kin, their own Clanswomen, are turning against the tyranny.
	Dela once told me that we might not see our efforts prevail in our lifetimes, or even our childrens’ lifetimes.  Considering the odds, that seems likely.  This is just one more of the sacrifices that, hopefully far in the future, free people will look back on and be grateful for.  Like the ancient lake buried in the desert, feeding an oasis, giving life and hope long after it's gone and buried.
	But that’s the future.  And right now I’m mired in the present, and my sadness.  My loss of purpose.
	And we have other, more tangible problems.  Anala is badly hurt.  She has several bad gashes, and one particularly deep puncture that broke her clavicle on her sword arm side.  She might never be able to wield her weapon again. 
	And in the short term, she’s lost a lot of blood, and keeps slipping in and out of consciousness.  For all any of us know, her wound could be fatal.  None of us are healers. . . all we’ve been able to do is pack the wounds and try to stop the bleeding.  And it isn’t stopping.  Especially from the puncture.
	I watch Ahsan pull back the balled-up cloth that we’ve had there for the last hour, and it’s soaked clear through.  His face tells me all I need to know as he inspects it.
	“We can’t let it go like this any longer,” Raja says, standing over us all.  In his hand he holds a long piece of wood we’ve let smolder in the fire, the tip glowing hot with embers.  
	Anala’s eyes roll back, and her lower jaw quivers, before she gutturally growls out, “Do it.”
	It’s all we know to do, and it’s probably the best and only decision we can make right now, but it’s still hard to watch as the cheetah leans down, and presses the burning edge into her wound.  Ahsan gave her the balled-up cloth bandage to bite down on, and were it not for that, her screams would have echoed across the mountain.
	The smell of burning flesh and fur makes me nauseous, but I move closer to her all the same, to give her my hand.  She grips it tightly enough to bruise.
	By the time he’s done, she looks weaker than I’ve ever seen the woman.  Her fur is damp with blood and the humidity of the air, her body bared down to her small clothes and wrapped in half a dozen places.  Her features are gaunt and tired, eyes glistening with unshed tears.  Her head lolls to the side to look at me, and I feel as though I’m already staring into a corpse.
	“It. . . was a good fight,” she says hoarsely, one corner of her muzzle turning up despite it all.  “The fight. . . I deserved.”
	I force a smile.  “I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”
	“It wasn’t for you,” she says, turning her muzzle slowly back up towards the heavens, and the stars.  “It was for Her.”
	I’m honestly afraid she’ll die right there, but when her eyes close, she keeps breathing.  Shallowly, but it’s there.
	“What do we do?”  Lavanya asks quietly, from her corner of the camp.  She’s standing with her back to a tree, arms crossed over her chest like she’s cold, even though that’s impossible.
	“We can’t move her like this,” I say, still holding the hyena’s hand.  “But we can’t wait here for her to recover, either.  We have less than two days until the ship leaves.  We have to get her there, somehow.  We’re not leaving her behind.”
	There doesn’t seem to be any disagreement there, but Ahsan speaks up.  “One of us should go to the ship and see if they can leave early.  And make sure they’re ready to move the barrels.  We can’t afford to wait near the docks.  By the time we’re ready to move. . . if we can even figure out how to do that. . . we need to make sure our escape route is planned out.”
	“I don’t like the idea of splitting up,” I murmur.
“Someone has to stay with her,” Raja says, looking down at me.  “Someone armed and capable of carrying her, in case they’re found and have to move.” 
	“And a striped hyena won’t stand out much here,” Ahsan reasons.  “I can go to make contact with the ship and get our plans in order.  I’m innocuous, I’m good at talking my way out of bad spots.  I’m not armed or armored, so even if they’re out looking for us by now, I won’t stand out.  I should be fine.”
“It’s alright, Kadar,” Lavanya says softly.  “I’ll go with him, so he’s not alone.  We’re probably safer in small groups than we are all together, at this point.  At least then if something happens to some of us, the rest can still get out.”
	As usual, Lavanya’s logic isn’t comforting, but it rings true.  I don’t like that she and Ahsan will be the ones taking the greatest risk, though.
	“Unless any of the servants we left in that place run to the nearest manor and report what happened there,” Ahsan says, “the word shouldn’t get out about this attack until at the earliest, the morning.  Hopefully by then, we’ll be gone.  If. . . we can figure out how to move her. . . .”  He looks down at Anala.
	“I have a thought for that,” a voice speaks up from the edge of the clearing.  We all look to Rajne, who’s standing rocking her baby.  The poor little girl’s not been crying at least, but she has been fussing and whining occasionally since we left the manor.  Rajne hasn’t put her down since our exodus.
	“I know where I can get a wagon,” she says.  “The sort they use to move bags of feed and hay up here into the mountains.  It’s sturdy, a strong man can pull it, and you could cover her with hay or a blanket and make it look like you’re just servants bringing something into town.”
	“That could work,” Ahsan agrees.
	“Lead me to it,” Raja says, before any of us can offer.  
	“I can probably get it on my own,” Rajne tries to insist.
	“Just show me where it is,” the cheetah says.  “You can’t pull a wagon and hold that babe, especially not through forest like this.”  He looks back at me.  “Will you be alright for a bit on your own?”
	“I’m more worried about all of you,” I say with a sigh.  “I’ll be fine here in the woods.”
	“That cut on your neck’s worse’n any of mine,” Raja says.  “Let me put my back to use on something, alright?  The Priestess fought like a demon in there, for us. . . and she’s still fighting now.  I’ll pull her ass out of this whole damned jungle by my teeth if I have to.”  He turns to Rajne.  “Let’s get this done quick.  Lead the way.”
	The two of them head off, and I watch the cheetah’s gold, patterned fur disappear into the darkness of the forest until he’s completely out of sight.  Ahsan’s hand on my shoulder snaps me out of another spiraling trail of awful thoughts.
	“We should probably go, too,” he says softly.  “Minimize the time we’re all apart, and get everything set up so we can get out of here as quick as possible.”
	“I don’t want you to go back to port without me,” I say, my mouth dry, my body aching with fear for him.
	Ahsan looks down to Anala, where she continues to breathe unevenly, fitfully sleeping.  “We can’t leave her,” he repeats quietly.
	I know he’s right.  But I don’t know how to explain to him how badly I need him right now.  How unnaturally terrified I am of being apart from him, worried that he’ll never come back to me.  The rational part of my mind knows it’s just because of the realization of my recent loss.  I know it’s what’s best for everyone, it’s what we have to do right now to get out of all of this alive.  But. . . .
	“Kadar?”  His voice seems to echo, like it’s distant, even though I know he’s right beside me.  I know I’m tired, exhausted even, and suffering the deepest kind of depression.  I feel like I’m deep down a hole, and everyone around me is reaching out to me, but the hole is too deep, and they can’t possibly pull me out.
	“Kadar?”
	I look up to him, expecting to see sadness, sympathy, mourning.  All the things my friends have been giving me, trying to help.  But he’s smiling.
	He reaches out, his palm pressing to my cheek, smoothing back the fur.  His dark eyes are staring directly into mine, no trace of fear in them, like I know there must be in mine.  And oddly, now of all times, something occurs to me.
	He’s standing straight.  He’s at eye level with me, as he should be. . . because we’ve always been the same height.  But ever since I’ve known him, he’s slumped over, bowed himself before others, made himself smaller.  He isn’t doing that any more.
	Maybe we’ve accomplished something through all of this, after all. 
	“I’ll see you again soon,” Ahsan promises quietly, stroking my cheek.  “I swear it.  I’ll be safe.”
	I don’t know why now, but I feel tears coming, and I don’t fight them.  I turn my cheek into his palm, squeezing my eyes tight and letting him swipe his thumb gingerly over the path the tears trace down my fur.
	“I’m so sorry I put you through all of this,” I say, nearly choking on the words.  
	“Kadar, I love you,” he says, leaning our foreheads together and forcing me to look him in the eyes.  “I don’t regret a moment we’ve spent together.  You changed me. . . forever, and. . . I wanted to help you like you helped me.  I’m sorry.  We did absolutely everything we could.”
	I nod, swallowing.  “Yes we did.”  I open my eyes at length after that, and look at him.  There is nothing left standing between us but my own fear of weakness, and it’s long overdue for me to let go of that.  Ahsan managed to.
	“I love you, too,” I finally. . . finally manage to say.  “I’ve loved you for a long time now.”
	“I know,” he says, smiling a bit.  “I’ve known for a long time now.”
	We kiss, and wrap our arms around one another, clinging to that feeling for as long as we can.  The world beckons to us cruelly, but for now, we have this moment in time, we have one another, and no one can control how we feel, or make us stop loving one another.  
	Our feelings can’t be wrong, because they are ours.  It’s a freedom no collar, no Clan, no force can take away from us. 

	
	Two hours pass.  It can be hard to tell time at night, but I’d almost literally been counting the seconds.  
	Two hours.
	I know in my heart something’s gone wrong.  Ahsan and Lavanya had to go all the way to the port, make their way to the ship and start making plans, so I hadn’t expected them back until the morning.  But Raja. . . .
	Unless this cart had been miles away, which wouldn’t make any sense, he should have been back by now.  
	I keep going over everything in my mind that could have possibly happened.  He could have been spotted. . . chased.  The baby could have given them away somehow.  But he was armed.  Maybe he tried to protect Rajne and the child?  
	“You have to go look for him,” Anala croaks at me, coughing between breaths.  She’d woken some time ago, parched and in too much pain to continue sleeping.  I’d given her what was left of our water, but there was nothing I could do for the pain.
	“I can’t-“ I begin.
	“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, a deep sadness and, I think, a hint of resignation to her fate creeping into her voice.  I haven’t looked at her wound since we seared it closed, but I know some of her others are still bleeding.  And even if she lives through this. . . her days as a warrior are done.  And that’s all she lives for.
	She turns her head just slightly, enough so that she can look at me.  “Go,” she commands, quietly but sternly.  “Find him.  He might need your help.”

	It takes me less time than I’d thought it would to trace Raja’s tracks through the woods.  In a forest this dense, the only way to get through portions of it is to cut your way through, and he’d done exactly that, with his shotel.
	The cheetah had headed off in the direction of one of the nearby fields we’d passed on our way here, apparently sticking to the forest rather than the road, which was good.  He’d been trying to play it smart.  I travel for a bit, following signs of his passage, my mind racing, wondering how far I’ll have to trek before I catch up to him or catch some trace of what may have happened.
	I’m not nearly as far away from Anala as I’d thought I’d have to look before I begin to smell something disturbing.
	Blood.  A lot of it.
	I speed my pace at that, rushing through the forest, heedless of how it tears at my body and clothing, and sinks into my paw pads.  I’m covered in small cuts and up to my knees in mud by the time I find. . . 
	. . . him.
	The big cat is lying like a crumpled pool of gold in an earthen ditch, tangled amongst the raised roots of a tree, his long limbs splayed in the dirt and leaves.  The moonlight pierces the canopy here, showing his true colors even in night shine.  Staining his beautiful, unique pelt is a deep, dark stain, emanating from his lower back.
	I stumble down the ditch, falling flat to my rear as I slide down nearly into him, fumbling for his body, my hands shaking.  I reach for the wound, and my paw comes away such a deep red, it looks black in the near darkness.
	“Raja,” I say, my voice gone breathless.  I lift him as well as I can, my body shaking.  “What. . . .”
	It’s then that I see the dagger.  It, too, is stained, but enough of the metal shows through that I catch it out of the corner of my eye, discarded in the ditch beside him.  I lean down and pick it up, realization dawning slowly, like my mind can’t wrap itself around something so terrible.
	It’s the same dagger Lord Immar had been holding in the manor, that very night.  I’d left it on his body after I’d killed him, but. . . .
	“The woman,” his ragged voice stirs me, and I hold him up a little closer to me, feeling the warmth still leaving his back, seeping between my fingers.  His blue eyes open to slits, enough that he can look at me.  “Raj. . . ne,” he growls out.  Or it might just be blood in his lungs.
	“She did this?!”  I demand, terror gripping my heart.  I’d thought. . . perhaps. . . she might have sold us out after we’d let her go back into the manor the first time.  But after all we’d done?  Why?
	“Didn’t. . . see it coming,” Raja says, still with that low gurgle in his voice.  “She still. . . had that. . . baby in her arms.  I never thought. . . .”
	“I’m going to get you back to Anala,” I say, trying to put my shoulder beneath his arm.  Lifting the big cat will be no mean feat, but I don’t care to think about what’s possible right now.
	“You have. . . t-the Guardmaster’s. . . sword,” Raja says.  I’m not sure if it’s feverish ranting at first.  Why is he talking about my sword?
	“Don’t. . . let me die like this,” the cheetah chokes out, and I at last grasp his meaning.
	I shake my head.  “No.  No, no. . . .”
	“I won’t,” he growls out, and this time I know it’s a real growl, “die.  Collared.  Kadar.  They. . . can’t. . . have me. . . forever.  Don’t let me die. . . with this thing. . . around my neck.”
	I look away, standing and putting my paws over my muzzle, running then up over my head to my ears and back.  For a time that’s all I can do, shaking and blocking every sense I have from the world around me. . . wanting so badly for this all to not be real.
	“My friends are dying all around me, and all I can do is cry.”
	I hadn’t even realized I’d said it aloud until he replies from where he lies.  “That isn’t,” he says hoarsely, “all you can do.”
	I force myself to look down on him.  His gaze is on me, plaintive and fading every moment.  
	“They never,” he swallows, “owned me, Kadar.  No one.  Ever.  Owned me.  Give me this.  I want them to know. . . I was free.  In the end.”
	My hands are shaking so badly, I can barely grip my sword.  I pull it, the broad blade, once the most well-kept possession of a great warrior, still as sharp as it was when I inherited it.  I’d kept up all this time on caring for it with Anala’s whetstone and her tutelage.  I hadn’t ever dreamed I’d put Lochan’s care, and Anala’s well-meaning advice to such hideous purpose.
	Raja closes his eyes, and I grip the sword so tightly, I feel I’ll never be able to let go.  
“I’m sorry,” I say in a shuddering voice.
“Set me free,” he rasps.
I scream, because I can’t help but do anything else, and bring it down on my friend’s neck.
	I free Raja from his collar, at last.  And then I throw myself down beside him, in fury, cursing the world and everything in it.  I bury my head in my paws, sobbing and willing myself to be anywhere. . . anywhere but here.  
	Anywhere but beside my decapitated comrade, who not hours before had been with us planning our escape from this cursed place.
	Rajne.
	I force myself to stand, like something from beyond is lifting me.  I can’t possibly have any more strength in my body left to go on. . . but yet, I’m standing.  And then pulling myself from the ditch, and racing through the forest, as fast as my legs can take me.  Back to Anala.
	Rajne Immar.  The woman we’d helped, the woman we’d murdered for.  She was out there, and she knew where we’d been camped.  She knew almost everything about us.
	My mind races as fast as my legs as I move.  Had we mentioned the ship we were leaving on by name?  No.  We hadn’t mentioned the names of anyone working it, either.  She knew our names.  She knew what we looked like.  If she went to her clanmates, would she send them after Ahsan and Lavanya first?  Or. . . .
	My questions are answered all too soon, when I hear the sounds of other bodies crashing through the forest.  Distant, for now. . . coming from many sides.  But it’s clear where they’re converging.
	I make it to Anala, my lungs screaming for air, desperation clawing at my chest like a beast wanting to escape.  The Priestess is awake, but still unmoving, her head weakly turning to the side as I approach her.
	“They’ve found us,” she says, knowingly.
	I nod, gritting my teeth and fighting back another wave of tears.
	“I don’t. . . know what to do,” I admit, my breath coming out heavily on the last word, leaving me feeling devoid of all air.
	“Help me to my feet,” she says, stiffly using her good arm to begin, laboriously, to push herself up.  “If we are. . . to die. . . I will die standing.”
	It’s possibly the last request she’ll ever make of me, so as foolish an idea as it is, I acquiesce.  I kneel beside her, carefully putting my shoulder beneath her arm, wrapping my own arm around her midsection, and lifting her to her feet as carefully as I can. 
	There is no hiding the pain she experiences, but she soldiers through it, crying out only between grit teeth.  My own shoulder burns from where I lifted her. . . I’d had to use my injured side to ensure I could lift her on her uninjured one.
	But no part of her is uninjured, really.  Blood seeps from many wounds over her body, and even once standing, she can’t truly support herself.  Her form is shaking and cold, but when I look to her, her eyes are alight like fire.
	I try to let her strength flow into me, and I think back on every time throughout my life that I’ve been tested, and prevailed.  But this. . . this truly feels like the tides have gotten hold of me, at last. . . pulling me out to sea.
	Everything out here changes.  So fast.
	If there’s one thing that finally gives me serenity, and lets me accept all of this. . . it’s the knowledge that Ahsan isn’t here.  Two of my friends, at least, escaped this.  I have to have hope. . . as hopeless as the world’s shown itself to be. . . I have to have hope.  For them.
	The men after us close in around our small camp from all sides, and soon I can see their shadows in the dark.  They stay at a distance, strangely.  And then a series of distinctive, metallic clicks sound from each of them, one by one.
	“Of course,” Anala’s rough voice says from beside me.  “Cowards.”
	One of them steps forward, enough into the light that I can see him.  He’s a hyena like any other, spotted, wearing leather armor with red bands around his wrists and the Immar clan symbol emblazoned on the front.  And he’s holding a pistol, pointed at us.  They all are.
	“Disarm yourself,” he demands.  “Or we shoot.  Now, scum!”
	Anala’s hoarse chuckle breaks the following silence.  “I am the sword of Anala,” she says, and pushes away from me, suddenly.  “I can never be disarmed.”
	Before I can stop her, she throws herself across the clearing in a wild charge, stooping to grab up her sword with her off hand and rushing the man holding the pistol pointed at us.
	Almost a dozen shots ring out through the clearing.  At least half of them hit her, and she drops to the ground mid-charge, crumpling to a heap.  
	Someone grabs me from behind as I try to go to her, a pair of large, strong arms yanking mine behind my back, while another snaps a man catcher around me.
	I fight to keep my eyes on her as I’m dragged to the ground.  She’s still aware, but fading quickly, looking almost drowsy as her eyes slip slowly closed.
	“Anala!”  I scream, struggling against the group of men holding me down.  “Shaan!”  I scream again, using her given name. 
	She turns her head just slightly against where it’s plastered to the bloody earth, looking at me with recognition.
	“I’m with you!”  I cry out.  “I’m with you, you are not alone!”
	I can’t be sure, but I think she smiles.
	“I’m with you!”  I continue to scream, as the life fades from her eyes.

	I began this journey in chains, and it seems that’s where I’ll end it.  Hours pass. . . perhaps more than a day. . . in the Immar prison cell where I’m taken.  I hardly remember most of the trip down the mountain.  My body is beyond weak from struggling, every fiber, every muscle torn and aching to the point that I feel like I’ve already begun to die.  My voice is gone from screaming.  I have nothing left inside me.
	I have nothing left at all.
	The only thread I cling to is that somewhere, out there in the world, two of my friends might be alive.  I am resigned that even if they are, they cannot and should not try to help me.
	This is the end.  I want to say I’m at peace with it, but that would be a lie.  Even in the depths of my deepest misery, after all I’ve lost, dying is no escape, because of the knowledge that my passing will pain someone else.  I just hope he’s left this terrible place by now.
	If I’ve one comfort, it’s knowing that I’ve left behind two very important forces in the world, both of which have the capacity to change it.  Somewhere, hidden away in the depths of a frigate, is a tool that could free thousands.  And hopefully, escaping in that very same ship, is the man I love. . . the man I taught to stand up, and look out at the world, not down at the ground.
	I will never know what happened to him, I realize.  Like many of the realizations I’ve come to the last few hours, it’s a hard one.  But there is no getting around it, and if I want to go to my death with any kind of closure, I’ll need to accept it somehow.
	I will never know what happened to my family, or Ahsan and Lavanya.  
	I will die soon.  The guards have made that clear.  I’m to be executed at dusk, for my crimes against the Immar family.
	I never saved my son.  I never even found him, or any trace of what really happened to him.  
	All these facts, I have very little time to come to any accord with.  The dim light coming in through the window is fading.
	The cell I’m in is one of many built into a brick building, but all of the doors face outside, not an interior hallway of any kind.  So when I hear footsteps approaching, I assume it’s just another guard patrol.
	When I look up to see a slender young hyena, the combined fury of my entire lifetime’s experience rises inside me, giving me enough strength to lunge forward, pulling taught my chains, standing rigid against them.
	“Rajne. . .” I growl, her name slipping out between my teeth like a curse.  
	“Even if those restraints don’t hold, you’ll not get past the bars,” she tells me, as though I needed to be told.  “So stop straining yourself.”
	“Why?!”  I demand, snapping my teeth, feeling the spit pooling at the corners of my mouth, every fur on my body raised.  
	She gives me an odd look, and I can suddenly see her ferocity, her calm from the glade, for what it is.  Uncaring, unfeeling coldness.  Her eyes are dead.  I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
	“You have a child,” she says.  “I should not have to explain it to you.”
	“How does killing my friends and selling us to the people who enslaved you help your daughter?!”  I demand, ferociously.
	“You killed Lord Immar, and every inheriting female in his line,” she replies, matter-of-factly.  “My daughter is the last direct descendant.  Once the Grand Matron succumbs to age. . . and that won’t be long. . . Manjusha will become inheritor of her title.  And by proxy, we will become the ruling family.”
	“How could you possibly want that for her?”  I say, aghast.  “You were bought and sold, same as us.  You know how we suffered!  Do you really want to become a part of that?!”
	“I am no longer indentured,” she says, hooking a finger beneath her still-present collar.  “I made a deal for you. . . for the whole of my contract.  By tomorrow, I will be free, and my daughter and I will retake that manor. . . as its masters.”
	“I have nothing to lose,” I warn her.  “I’ll tell them what you did.  That you were a part of it!”
	She smiles slowly.  “Do that,” she says, unconcerned.  “Let them know how much they should fear me.”
	I lower my head, my body shuddering from the strain of even standing.  But I refuse to fall now.  “You could change things,” I say, hoping somehow, although it seems impossible, I might get through to this woman.  “You know what it means to be collared.  You could change the system.”
	“The system works well for those at the top,” she says, dispassionately.  “And from this day forward, I will never let my daughter and I fall from that roost.  Lord Immar was a weak old man.  Manjusha and I will grow this Clan, and my daughter will live a blessed life, and inherit a powerful empire.  She will never suffer as I’ve suffered.  She will live a better life than I’ve lived.  I’m sure you want the same for your son, and you would have done anything to give it to him, so don’t act superior.  How many people did you kill for him, in the end?”
	“My son is dead thanks to your Clan,” I say, darkly.
	“That’s actually why I’m here,” she says, cryptically.
	Something sparks in my chest.  Something I’ve felt all these years, that I’d thought doused by that ledger in the basement.  But. . . .
	“I lied to you,” she says.
	“You’ll have to be more specific,” I growl out.
	“About not knowing your wife,” she says.  “I did know her.  There aren’t many jackals on the island. . . and only two golden that I’d ever seen.  I’ve been here since the colony was formed, and Lord Immar let me travel into town and to other manors often.  I know nearly everyone.”
	I stare at her disbelievingly.
	“Your wife served at Kanesh Immar’s manor,” she informs me.  “She was a house servant.  She had a little boy with her, a few of the times I met her.  He looked like you.  He had two different colored eyes?  That was him, yes?”
	My heart hurts at the mere mention of Amon, but I still want to hear everything she has to say.
	“I don’t know how,” she continues, “but she did die.  I believe it was some kind of accident.  That’s why the ledger listed her as deceased.  Lord Immar never kept good records, though.  Your son should have had his own history marked there. . . but he didn’t.  I think because of the nature of his contract.”
	“His contract?”  I demand.  “My wife would never have sold him!”
	“Your wife died,” she reminds me.  “Leaving a son behind, too young to fend for himself.  They drafted a contract for him soon after.  I’m not sure what excuse was made, but it’s not as though there was anyone present to claim him.  Indenturing him likely saved him from starvation.”
	“Where is he?!”  I demand, the chains clanging as I pull them taught again.
	“I don’t know,” she admits, “but I intend to find out, and ensure I buy his contract out from whoever has him now.  I’ll be sure he isn’t sent to the fields.  He’ll get good work.  I’ve decided I owe it to you, for what you’ve done for me.”
	“Set him free!”  I beg her, letting my exhaustion take hold, sinking to my knees.  I even bow before her, doing everything in my power to plead with the woman on the other side of the bars, who now holds my son’s life in her hands.  “Please,” I plead.  “Please, set him free.”
	“And release him to where?”  She asks, spreading her hands.  “His mother is dead.  His father is soon to be.  He has no way off of this island.  And even if he did, he’s a child.  He won’t survive in the world alone.  Collared life is not easy, but I made it through it,” she holds her head high.  “Your boy is alive, jackal. . . and will continue to be.  Be grateful.”
	She allows me nothing more, turning and leaving without a second look at me.  Her final words stay with me, but perhaps not in the way she’s intended.
	The thing is. . . I am grateful.
	Not to her.  Not to anyone.  Just. . . grateful.
	My son is alive. 
	My son is alive.
	My son is alive.
	The words echo inside me with every heart pound, every second that passes by as dusk falls, and soon, with the sound of drums from the street outside.  
	When they come for me, I can barely hear the world around me anymore.  All I can see, hear and feel is the promise of hope in those four words.
	My son is alive.
	They pull me to my feet, unchain me, and surround me as they march me out into the waning red light.  Two spears to my back, two at my sides, and many more men surround me.  All of them stand at a distance warily, despite the fact that I can barely walk under my own power, and carry no arms.
	I feel invincible.  It doesn’t matter what happens to me.
	My son is alive. 
I’m lead through a gathering crowd outside, many of them Clan members, but many more of them collared like me.  No one calls out or jeers, like I’ve seen at many public executions.  No one is bemoaning my fate, either.  The crowd is silent as the dead, all eyes following me as I walk the short distance towards the gallows.
Two men wearing ceramic masks bound over their muzzles, and hoods drawn up over their ears, wait for me on the raised wooden platform.  I take the stairs, my feet dragging with each step, my body ready to give in.  I come to stand where they lead me, and stare down at the rotting wooden boards.
No one else is here.  They’re only hanging me.
My son is alive. . . and my friends probably are, too.
Not a one of these guards, or any of the people in the crowd, whether here for the spectacle or because they were forced to watch someone like me be made example of, know how free I truly am in this moment.  They can’t know the peace that I’ve found.  They will never know peace like this.  I’m convinced no one can, unless they’ve suffered so much for something, only to find in their final moments when all seemed lost. . . that they’ve won.
A shout pierces the crowd, as the noose is slipped over my neck.  It’s the first voice I’ve heard since I was led outside. . . and it’s the voice I most wanted to hear, if I’d been given one final wish.
“Stand up straight, Kadar!”
Smiling, I put the last ounce I strength I have left into standing tall, lifting my chin high to the crowd and the heavens above, the first of the stars beckoning to me in the deep blue sky.
I am free.

Epilogue

	It’s nearly dark when they finally lead him out of the cell block into public view.  He looks weak, beaten, and frayed.  It reminds me of the first night we met, when he was fresh from the cell on the Sura Plantation.  Everything has come full-circle since then, in so many ways.
	Back then, I was resigned to the life I knew, clinging to the few bastions of safety that presented themselves.  And he’d been one of them.  He’d picked me up, stared me in the eyes and told me I was more than I’d ever thought I could be.  And he’d been right.  For a time I’d clung to him simply because I thought that even though I couldn’t fight back. . . he could.  But he’d taught me how to fight.  More than that, he’d taught me why I should.  That I was worth fighting for.  That I could be my own champion.
	But I can’t be his.  Not here. . . not now.  All that’s left is to throw myself into the maw and die beside him.  And I’ve been fighting to do that for over a day, now.  But my friend won’t let me.
	Even now, she clings to me desperately, whispering in my ear to look away.  We’ve run enough risk even coming to the execution. . . our ship waits for us, and we’ve spent the entirety of the last day exhausting every possible option.  
The Immar are everywhere.  Their guards are everywhere.  Even getting close to the cell block proved impossible.  I wasn’t even able to see him until now.
Lavanya’s claws dig into me, holding me back from the very last border into oblivion.  The weight of my love, and my responsibility are absolutely crushing.  I am being pulled apart in both directions, and regardless what I choose, I will bear the burden of it for the rest of my life. . . however short that may be.
I know what he would want.  Lavanya has reminded me of it every hour since we discovered he’d been captured.  But it doesn’t make this any easier.
My cheeks are damp from a day’s worth of tears, my throat raw, my sobs choking me so much, I can hardly breathe.  Lavanya’s arms tighten around me even further, holding me back from that cliff edge.  Holding me back from doing what I want so badly in my heart to do. . . and running to him.
He looks so tired.  And yet. . . is he smiling?
When he comes to stand near the noose, I know I’ve only moments left to give some part of myself to him in his final breaths.  I cannot save him, as he saved me.  All I can do is reach out to him, somehow. . . and give him strength.
The words he always spoke to me, when my weakness manifested itself, rush into my mind.  Memories upon memories of him, from the moment we first met to now. . . his constant reminder to me, to be strong, and show that I feel I’m worth more than the world says I am.
I pull forward against Lavanya’s grip, enough to lift my head into the crimson sky and raise my voice.
“Stand up straight, Kadar!”
I see him look in my direction, as do many others.  I can’t see his face, but I know he heard me.  He straightens his back and lifts his muzzle proudly to the sky.
“Look away, Ahsan,” Lavanya begs me, softly.
“No,” I say in a shuddering breath, staring straight ahead.  

24 Years Later

  “Show me how it works,” I ask of the old rat. 
He holds up the familiar metal ring, worn from the many years I’ve had it around my neck.  I run a paw up along the ruff of my neck slowly, rubbing at the spots where it dug into me over the years.  I’ve had it off for over ten years now, but it always feels like it’s still there.
It’s hard to imagine that soon, I’ll be putting it back on of my own free will.
The man turns it to one of the seams, and indicates a small circular hole in the side of it.  “Wedge something sharp in there,” he explains, “then pull.”  He shows me with a small metal letter opener, tugging up the corner of a hidden pin.  Once he’s got it lifted enough to put a claw under it, he pulls it out entirely.
And the collar opens.
“The hinges work well,” I nod at him.  
“You can take it on and off with minimal help, or even on your own with a mirror,” he says with a toothy smile.  
I smile back.  “You did very well.  You have no idea how much this will help the effort.”
“Thank the Dog Lords,” the rat shrugs, putting the pin back in and closing the collar shut again, testing the hinges a few times.  “It’s their craftsmanship. . . all those intricate little parts on their pistols opened up a world of new study and engineering. . . much of which I relied upon to build this little marvel.”
I stand, narrowing my eyes as I catch pieces of an argument taking place just outside the door.  Two of the younger recruits, most likely.
“Sir?”  The rat looks up at me.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter.  “Just need to go play peacekeeper.”
	I take the collar from him, and head towards the door, pushing it open and interrupting an apparently fierce debate.  It is in fact two of the younger recruits in the movement, but one of them is Sasha, a young woman from the Kadrush, recently freed from the northern coast.  She’s only had her collar off for a year now, but she’s proven a very capable spy, and she’s not one for flying off the handle.
	“What’s wrong here?”  I ask, looking between her and the other, a young leopard who came in just a month ago with a group from the western coast.  
	“I have information, sir!”  The leopard says immediately, like he wants to beat Sasha to it.
	“The Shanivaar are a black hole,” Sasha growls.  “We don’t talk about-“
	“Wait a moment,” I tell her sternly, then look to the leopard.  “What about the Shanivaar?”
	Though it pains me to discuss the place, and anyone who’s been here long enough, (like Sasha) knows my history with it, I can’t blind myself to information that could be of value.  Lavanya’s with her cell in the south right now, and I know for a fact that even if we combined forces, we’d still not have the manpower to break through the Immar Clan’s formidable infrastructure.  But. . . .
	“I just heard it through a mercenary outfit that came out of the west,” the leopard explains.  “There’s some kind of local conflict brewing over there, between the Immar and an Amurescan Fleet.”
	I narrow my eyes.  “The Amurescans don’t do ‘local conflicts’,” I tell him.  “If the Immar are fighting the Dog Lords, in any way, that’s a breach of the treaty.  That’s. . . war, son.  And I’d have heard about a war.”
	“I don’t know the specifics,” he insists, “but the mercs insisted there’s a fleet docked there, on the big island.  And they’re tangling with the Immar.”
	I consider what he’s saying carefully, trying not to get ahead of myself.  “We’ll need to confirm it,” I say, my mind drifting back years. . . decades. . . to that awful place.  I’d spent the last two decades building my resistance, using the tools we’d stolen, and the resolve and fury I’d found there, to accomplish all we had.  The most we’d managed so far was to help small pockets of people, and be a thorn in the Clans’ side, raising the cost of their business and making trouble for them at every turn.  I’m not going to say we haven’t had major victories. . . and even the small ones feel pretty important, most times.
	But the Immar are stronger now than they’ve ever been.  Even if they’re dealing with a few problematic guests on their island, the place is still a fortress.
	“Sir?”  I hear Sasha speak up, quietly.  “Are you alright?”
	I look down to the young corsac fox, nodding.  “Yes, sorry.  Miles away.”  I stare past them off the balcony overlooking the coastline, and the small city beneath us.  I wonder how large the settlement on Shanivaar has grown by now. . . .
	“I think it’s worth investigating,” I say at length.  “If there’s one hell-hole I’d like to liberate before I die. . . it’s the Shanivaar.”
	Sasha gives me a sympathetic, knowing look.  She, too, lost a lover and most of her family in a revolt.  It’s how we found her. . . being sent along with a half dozen others to a labor camp to be worked to death.
	“How should we approach this one, sir?”  She asks, intensely.
	I look out to sea for a while, considering.  
	“Let’s try to reach out to this fleet,” I say at length.  “See what their position is.  We need to be certain we can work together before we attempt anything.”
	“I can go myself,” she offers.  “I know a fishing vessel-“
	“You’ll both go,” I say to the two of them, “with me.  The Shanivaar is no place to be taken lightly, and I’d like to speak to whoever leads these Dog Lords myself.  Besides. . . I think it’s high time I returned.”