CHUTZPA WATCHED TESHA move through the long shadows cast by the torches. She moved like a ghost, floating from one spot to the next, a blur in a background of twilight. Once she had descended a couple of levels, he followed. It was harder for him to move as she did, due to his stature. He needed a disguise. He searched among the guards for someone close to his size. All of the guards were clean shaven, even on their heads. Chutzpa scratched at his full beard and mane of hair that had grown long over the span of his searching. Becoming a guard was out of the question, which left becoming a slave.
On the lower levels, one man caught his eye. He had a build similar to his. He moved back and forth between the carts, carrying bags of salt, the same assignment as Deshi’s. As he watched, the man was stopped by a guard and given instructions. The man nodded and moved in Deshi’s direction, leaving the base of the pit to climb to the next level, the level where Chutzpa was standing. The man turned right and Chutzpa followed. He moved toward a door set back in the rock.
As he reached the door, Chutzpa tapped him on the shoulder. The man turned to scrutinize him. He was missing an eye. A bloody patch was tied over the empty socket. His good eye studied Chutzpa. “You are a stranger. How did you come to be here?”
“Shhh,” hissed Chutzpa. “I have come to release the slaves. I am here with the Shamankas! Do you want to be free?” The man nodded, his one good eye glowing with anticipation. “I need to borrow your clothes. I need to get close to the guards on the dock. We are about the same size. Switch with me?”
“Okay, but what should I do?”
“Go with me into the room. We can switch clothing, and you can hide in there until you hear the commotion start. You won’t be able to miss it. What were you sent to get?”
“One of the boxes of rations that are fed to the slaves.”
“Okay, I will take one with me.”
The man nodded and opened the door to the store room, leaving it open for Chutzpa to slip inside. They exchanged clothes, then Chutzpa slipped back outside, his darts and blow gun hiding up his sleeves. He could do nothing about the lack of chains on his feet, but he hoped that the anomaly would be missed in the dim lighting and activity of the pit. He shouldered the box on his left side leaving his right hand and arm free. He mimicked the jerky gait of the other prisoners, hoping to give the illusion of his feet being bound and slumped his shoulders with dejection.
Chutzpa moved slowly toward his destination, watching for Deshi’s signal. He threaded his way closer to the platform, to all eyes just another slave doing his jailer’s bidding. As he walked, he realized he had forgotten to ask where the box was to be delivered to.
As he shuffled along, a guard yelled out, “Hey one eye, are you bringing lunch or not? Break time is almost over.” Chutzpa raised his head a fraction, keeping his face averted, and moved in the direction of the voice. A tent of sorts stood against a stone wall. Four posts and a stretch of canvas was all that defined the space, but underneath, hungry workers huddled waiting for their daily ration. Chutzpa kept his eyes averted as he moved under the canopy and placed the box on the ground. As he moved away from the box, he hazarded a glance at the guard, but he paid him no attention, as he focused on his meal.
Chutzpa had spied the perfect place from which to position himself for his attack: a cluster of barrels filled with sand. Chutzpa settled into position just as Deshi came out of the tunnel. He walked up the ramp, deposited his bag of salt, then retraced his route. He paused at the base of the ramp and stretched, hands pointed at the ceiling.
Chutzpa climbed up on top of the tallest barrel, pulling his pipe from his sleeve. Phfff, phfff, phfff. The darts flew in rapid succession, dropping the guards one by one. But his last dart missed. The guard seemed to sense it coming and stepped to the side just before it struck. It clattered onto the tracks, out of range for retrieval. Cursing, Chutzpa leapt off the barrels and ran at the guard, pulling his knife. Lightning split the air above him, and loud booms echoed around the chamber. Flaming debris fell about him as he ran at the last guard. There was something familiar about him. The guard turned.
It was Zax.
Shock seared through Chutzpa’s body. His mind could not comprehend that he was seeing. Zax? What are you doing here in that uniform? He stumbled, nearly dropping his knife. Zax showed no surprise but calmly brought up his blade to meet the attack.
“Zax!” Chutzpa screamed. “What the hell are you doing?” He crashed bodily into his brother. They tumbled into the side of a cart, rocking it on its rails. Zax grabbed Chutzpa’s wrist, twisting it and sending him to his knees. Chutzpa kept going, pulling his brother down. The pair rolled over and over, each trying to gain the upper hand as confusion reigned in the pit. “Zax, stop this madness! I am here to help you escape!”
“Escape? I am here willingly, brother.” Zax’s hand wrapped around Chutzpa’s wrist, bending it back in an attempt to force him to drop the knife. His knife snaked towards Chutzpa’s throat. In desperation, Chutzpa grabbed Zax’s forearm, forcing the blade away. “Why did you come?” Zax said. “I burned everything to the ground. You were supposed to think I died in the fire. You always were dense.”
Tears of pain burned in Chutzpa’s eyes. He thought his wrist might snap. He forced his knee between him and his brother and with a mighty shove broke Zax’s hold on him.
Chutzpa regained his feet, holding his knife in front of him. Slaves moved about him, battling guards and crying in terror. Bodies littered the ground around them. “Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Do you really think I wanted to be a beekeeper?” He laughed. “When the emperor offered me a much more lucrative employment, I jumped at the opportunity. The Shadrian are little more than savages. Perfect slaves. I am paid handsomely.” His smile faded and his face darkened. “But you are messing that up. For that, brother, you will die. You should have stayed in Tunise.” Zax lunged at his brother, knife raised and lethal intent etched on his face.
Chutzpa stepped back and twisted, planting his back foot. His brother overshot his target. Instead of striking Chutzpa’s neck, Zax’s knife grazed his recently healed shoulder. Blood gushed from the deep cut that was meant to end his life. Chutzpa gasped in pain, as the blood flowed down his arm to drip from his elbow to the stone floor. His weapon slid in his hand as he raised it higher.
“Zax, I beg you, stop this madness! The emperor is evil! He is enslaving women and children. He is killing off an entire people. This is not who you are.”
“Not who I am? You never knew who I was, Chutzpa. You were happy to ship me off to apprentice with that old coot after our parents died.” He flicked his knife in Chutzpa’s direction. “Do you really think our parents’ death was an accident?” Zax shifted his feet, moving around his brother, searching for an opening. “Do you think that the emperor just hands out assignments like this? I had to earn it,” he sneered. “I had to prove I was willing to do anything commanded of me. I had to prove I was strong enough to serve him. So I did. I killed our parents.”
Chutzpa’s eyes widened at his brother’s words, and then his ears burned. But it was not from the cut on his neck. White hot fury coursed through his veins. “You killed our parents?” Chutzpa’s voice was quiet, but his anger surged hot, igniting his resolve.
Zax laughed. “Yes. And I brought their bodies to the emperor to prove my dedication. I stuffed them in a couple of barrels and took them to the Citadel. All so that I could win this reward, to become a chief steward of the mine.” Zax flicked his bloody knife indicating the turmoil around him. “Now, dear brother, for your little demonstration here, you can join father and mother.” Zax launched himself at Chutzpa with such ferocity that he stepped back and slipped on the blood-slicked rock. The slip saved his life as he jerked to the right and Zax’s blade missed. Chutzpa’s reflexes took over and he threw up his hands, one of which clutched the knife. Zax’s momentum carried him onto Chutzpa’s blade, with sickening ease. The knife slid between Zax’s ribs, the tang sliding right up to the handle, piercing his heart. Zax jerked, his eyes widening in surprise. Chutzpa fell backward, carried by Zax’s sudden dead weight. He slid off the blade and crumpled onto the ground.
Shock froze Chutzpa under the corpse of his dead brother. His eyes blurred as he stared at the blood dripping down his arm and spreading across the ground at his side. Tears ran unchecked down his face. Confusion numbed him to everything around him.. With a shudder, he threw the knife aside.
The night exploded with light, jerking him back to reality and the perilous place he was trapped within. A staff clattered to the ground a few feet in front him. It had a metal tip that flickered with a couple of strands of lightning and then went dark as the light faded away. It was Shikoba’s staff. He bent and picked it up. Chutzpa raised his eyes to the flames above him, searching for a sign of the Shamankas.
A rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hey, get going! What are you doing standing there?” Deshi shoved Chutzpa into an empty mine cart and pulled the brake. The cart rumbled down the track. Deshi rode in the one right behind him. The other carts filled when the slaves discovered the way was clear to flee via the rails. Chutzpa’s hands gripped the sides of the cart as with a sickening lurch he was swallowed by the dark, dank tunnel.