The People have halted, Tannis dismounting and standing in front of them, facing my sister. The muscles in his jaw clench with worry as he scrapes a hand over his chin. “Now, Rimma, you stop right there,” he calls. We’re still a hundred paces away and closing the gap. Chantri rides ahead of us and swings down from her saddle, unarmed, limping angrily in an attempt to cut us off.
“Please, Rimma, please listen,” I beg, my words broken by desperate sobs. “Rimma, please. Peace, sister.” I grab her arm, but she shakes me off.
Thirty paces from the People, she halts, the stock of her bow in a white-knuckled clutch, the bolt pointed at Tannis’s feet. Behind Tannis I see several faces I recognize; Tomis, once of Heaven, now one of the People; Tarra, the woman from Utopia with a child on her hip; Shanks and Doony, Bones and Sloot. They stand motionless, their expressions a shifting blend of contempt and pity. Except for Sloot.
Sloot’s eyes dart from Rimma to Tannis to Chantri and back to Rimma. He fidgets, licks his lips and snickers. Bending his knees, he rocks his hips, pumping the air. “Uh, uh, uh, uh. Like that, didn’t ya? Moaned my name, didn’t ya? Uh, uh, uh, uh.”
“What the fuck?” Chantri yells, spinning to face the man as she comprehends who he is.
“Uh, uh, uh.” Sloot closes his eyes, thrusting. “Feels good don’t it, Rimma?”
Next to him, Tomis’s fists snaps out, catching Sloot on the cheek. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Rimma.” Chantri swings back to my sister. “We can handle this. Let the Colony handle it.”
“Uh, uh, uh.” Sloot continues pumping as he steps away from Tomis, ignoring the blow. “You’d like some of her too, wouldn’t ya?” He licks his lips and wags his tongue.
“No Rimma,” I plead, gripping her arm. She shoves me backwards off my feet and steps toward the wall.
“Stand down,” Chantri screams at her, hobbling nearer. “We’ll take him in.”
My sister raises her crossbow.
“Get him the fuck out of here,” Tannis shouts at the People. Chantri’s a stride from us, her hand reaching out to seize Rimma’s bow. Rimma steps around her, advancing.
“Killed Greeb,” Sloot snarls. “Worth it though. Best fuck I ever had. Broke your fucking arms and filled you up with my seed. Not so tough, are ya?”
“Shut him up, Tannis,” Chantri yells. “Fucking stab him, if you have to.”
“I’ll gut ya first.” Sloot’s eyes dart from Rimma to Tannis, a long knife appearing in his grip as he cackles. Tannis retreats from the other People, Sloot following, his tongue worming over this lips.
“You want to get fucked, Sloot?” Rimma asks, her voice smooth, sensuous. “You want me to fuck you, love?”
“Now that’s what I like.” Chin lifted, Sloot howls, the sound sending chills through my skin. My sister’s crossbow drifts slowly up to her shoulder as she inches forward.
“Rimma,” Chantri shouts, her eyes appealing desperately to Tannis for help.
“Get him out of here,” Tannis bellows at Sloot’s companions, but they’re retreating.
Sloot’s lips retract, his grin fading as he finally understands her meaning, sees what’s coming. The bolt hisses from the bow, thumping his chest with a final, “Uh!” Sloot staggers backward as Chantri tackles my sister, pulling her to the ground.
Scrabbling over the stony track, I grab her crossbow by the stock and drag it out of her reach. “Her knife,” I scream, afraid Rimma will stab Chantri, but my sister is pinned, no longer fighting. Her arms lie limp on the sparse grass, her body racked by sobs.
At the wall, Tarra screams, fleeing with her child through the gate. Everyone is shouting; Tannis caught in the thick of it, yelling for calm, his knife poised to defend or attack. I don’t know which and neither, it seems, does he or anyone else. On his knees, Sloot gurgles, blood disgorging in spattering coughs, his shirt crimson, hands on the shaft, fingers fidgeting as if unsure what to do. Lucky’s mare rears, eyes bulging and showing their whites. The man hangs on, bow and quiver slapping against the animals flank. Red-faced and barking orders, Tannis drives the People out. Tomis and Doony grab Sloot under the arms and drag him through the portal while Tannis shoves aside the stones holding the doors open. He slams the gate shut, leans against it and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “Fuck!”
“We need to escort them through the steads,” Lucky warns, reins twisted in his hands, his skittering horse under control.
With a nod, Tannis cracks a door and then swings it open. Sloot’s body lies in the road on its back. Tannis glances back at Chantri, the woman climbing to her feet, breathing heavily. My sister lies at on the ground as lifeless as Sloot except for the rise and fall of her chest and the wet tears staining her cheeks. I sit beside her, hugging my legs, my forehead resting on my knees.
“Chantri,” Tannis says, blowing out a breath, “go with Lucky. See the People off. We don’t want any more trouble if we can avoid it.” She nods and limps to her horse, mounts and rides through the gate without a glance back, Lucky clopping along behind.
Tannis drags Sloot from the center of the road and leaves him slumped against the wall for burial. He scoops up Rimma’s bow and straps it to his saddle with his own. With a sigh, he hauls my sister to her feet and confiscates her knives, sliding them into his own belt as she stands with a hung head. “Fuck, Rimma,” he mutters. “I don’t blame you, but you are one broken soul.”
**
Simone presides over the Council’s judgment. My sister no longer weeps, but sits straight-backed on the bench before four weighty chairs. She appears calm, unrepentant, arrogant, but I sense less dignified feelings churning beneath the regal demeanor—resignation, guilt, and above all, fear.
Priest’s dark eyes drift between us, stirring with love, anger at my sister’s betrayal, and frustration at his helplessness. I feel almost as if I’m Touched, as if the emotions grinding in the room are visible to my eye, all so conflicted, so sore from hard use. My fate too rests in the balance today.
When the men of the Council sit, Simone remains on her feet before us, facing Rimma. Her blue eyes bear shadows of sleeplessness in a face both stern and compassionate, blond hair drawn back, sharpening her features. “We are here foremost to learn the truth about the events that led to a death at our gates, weigh our responsibility, and act accordingly. In a world so full of suffering, it is the duty of each of us to make a covenant of peace within us, with the stones of the mountains and the wild animals, with all those scattered on the hills like sheep without a shepherd.”
All her words echo in my head, so recently spoken. She sighs wearily, seeming to find nothing supple or yielding in my sister’s eyes. “Do you understand, Rimma, that we wish peace within our borders? That a dry crust of bread with peace is better than a house full of feasting with strife?”
“He broke my arms,” my sister replies, her voice sharp with contempt. “He kicked in my face and raped me, held me down and laughed while others abused me.”
“None of us disputes these horrors inflicted upon you,” Simone says gently. “None of us denies your right to terrible anger or dismisses your desire for vengeance.”
“Do you understand”—the bald Cash points at her with his toothless jaw—“the penalty we would have exacted had you allowed us to sit in judgment of this man?”
“If it was less than death,” my sister responds icily, “then I bear no regrets. If it was death, then I’ve only hastened his execution.”
“You’re not our judge or executioner,” Priest speaks up before Cash sputters a retort. “Our way is far from flawless, Rimma, but we serve justice when we can, without remorse when it’s deserved. We do that through careful deliberation.”
“And if the Biters object to your verdict?” Rimma challenges him with no attempt to soften her words.
The other Council members turn their eyes to him for the answer, equally curious. Priest sighs. “Justice is justice, Rimma. We’ve killed People before. We killed to save you. I didn’t consider then that the pack might object.”
“You were judge and executioner,” my sister says.
“In defending a life, yes. As you did without penalty in defending Keyon and Donnis.”
“I lived with the River Walkers for a year,” Rimma says. “I assure you; in killing Sloot, I prevented future rape and defended against future murder.”
“Let us begin,” Simone suggests, dismissing the argument and finally taking her seat.
Once again, Cash leads off in an attempt to ascertain the sequence of events. He starts with a series of questions for Tannis and then continues the interrogation with Chantri. “Then what did the man do?”
Without a second’s hesitation, Chantri stands and pumps her hips, licking her lips with an obscene tongue as she meets her mother’s eyes. “Uh, uh, uh, uh. Like that, didn’t ya? Uh, uh.”
My sister sits as if carved of alabaster staring at Simone, while against the wall, my stomach clenches, a hand rising to my lips to stifle a cry. The Council and every spectator in the stone room watches with grimaces of horror and disgust. Unmistakable anger twitches in Cash’s face, and I wonder if the sentiment is for the wrongs inflicted upon Rimma or for Chantri’s coarse display.
“That’s enough. Sit—”
“Chantri,” Simone interrupts Cash’s command, a hand indicating the point is made. She steeples her fingers before her. “That’s when you knew this was the man who’d broken Rimma’s arms and raped her?”
“He was taunting her.” Chantri nods. “Without remorse or shame.”
“What did you feel at that moment?” her mother asks.
“I wanted to kill him.”
“Huh.” Cash blows out a small huff.
Simone pauses, pivoting toward the old man with the merciless eyes of a predator. “You exemplify why this Council endures a woman in its ranks,” a slight hiss accompanying her last words. “Rape is a violation of the most sacred part of a person, her own body. It’s painful and demeaning, even
without
broken arms. Rape humiliates, dehumanizes, treats women as objects, conveys the message that a woman is without respect, that she’s not a person.”
“Simone, I’m not suggesting…” Cash sputters, blinking at her assault.
“No,” the woman asserts, “I think perhaps you should let me speak. The intimate loss of control of one's body leaves women feeling contaminated, defiled, and desecrated, and out there in the broken world, women and girls have little control over the conditions of their existence. For a time, I had no control over the conditions of my existence.”
“Simone…” Cash interrupts, cringing miserably beneath her glare.
“Don’t goad me,” she snaps. “Just because we live in a world that accepts male control and dominance over females as natural, acceptable, and even desirable doesn’t make it right. Larger bodies and more muscle don’t entitle men to rape or judge how it makes a woman feel.” She pauses to compose herself and turns back to face her daughter. “What did you do then?”
A small smile disappears behind Chantri’s lips. “I understood the danger. That if I wanted to kill him, Rimma would too. I tried to stop her, to get Tannis to do something. It all happened fast, chaotic and out-of-control. There were other men with weapons. We were all shouting.”
“Did you tell her that the Council would seek justice for her?”
“Not in those words. I don’t know.” Chantri shakes her head. “It felt like a rock slide. No one could stop it and everything ripped apart as it fell.”
His lips pursed, Jeph leans forward, blind eyes gazing from his dark face, appearing to parse the truth behind Chantri’s words. “Tannis reported she threatened you with her bow.”
“I threatened her with mine,” Chantri points out. “Rimma wouldn’t have shot me.”
Listening from my spot at the wall, I’m not certain I believe her or that she believes herself. My sister’s expression remains wooden, and I wonder if she knows the answer.
Jeph’s eyebrows rise into perfect black arches, but he lets the statement pass as he proceeds to comb through her thoughts. He then calls my sister to stand before him. As she rises and approaches his chair, he taps his chin, viewing her as if he’s found a window through which he can examine her soul.
“In my mind, Rimma,” he speaks deliberately, the words carefully formed around his thoughts. “The single most revealing answer is to this question, why go to the gate? When you heard that the River Walkers had come to the Colony, knowing your history with them, why go to the gate? You suffered as a slave under their control. They planned to sell you and your sister in the north. You killed for your freedom and nearly lost your life in fleeing. Why then, when you heard of their presence, did you go to the gate?”
My sister doesn’t answer. I don’t know if she can.
A brown finger continues to tap the Councilman’s chin. “Did you somehow know this man, Sloot, would be there?”
Rimma shakes her head. “No.” I hear the flutter in her voice, can almost witness her own prying inside herself for the reason, just as Jeph searches for the truth.
“Why seek a confrontation?” he persists. “Why place yourself, Chantri, Tannis, and others at risk? In fact, I understand from Tannis there was a woman from one of the Gardens with a baby on her hip. Do you know the penalty for abusing a child?”
“Death,” Rimma replies.
“Do you know the penalty for murder?” She doesn’t answer. Jeph leans back. “Why then, Rimma, did you go to the gate?”