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UNCLE JEFFETT COMES to see me early the next morning. Well, I think it’s morning. There isn’t enough natural light to tell. He stands at the bars and snorts. “I see you got your neighbours to help you.”
It had taken some undecipherable grunts, but I’d managed to wriggle close enough to the bars that the man in the cell next to mine could remove the gag. I’d stared at him, bewildered, for a long time, wondering where he—and the other two shapes huddled in the corner—had come from when the dungeons were empty two days ago. Had they just been arrested or did Jeffett trick me somehow?
My mouth is still dry, throat hoarse. I lick at my lips and croak, “Uncle, please—”
He interrupts with a wave of his hand. “Hush. I won’t listen to your pleading.”
“Then what are you here for?”
He grimaces at me like I’m some bug under his foot. Then he sighs. “I don’t want you in here either, Yosua, believe me. I have done all I can to prevent this from happening. But you do not listen, just like your father. Stubborn, both of you. Still, you are my nephew. Can I trust you?”
“To do what?”
“To not try to escape before the trial. And to not attack your guards.”
I stare at the chains that bind me, then swallow down the rage collecting in my chest. “Do I look like I’m capable of attacking anyone?” It’s a struggle to get to my feet.
He taps at his chin. “It’s a risk. I don’t know how this magic works and whether it will return.”
“Speak plainly, Uncle. I am too tired for riddles.”
“Too tired for riddles, he says! Too tired, when he slaughtered ten men last night with unnatural strength.”
“They attacked me! I had to defend myself.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “So you say, but they are dead so it’s your word against the dead. What were you doing out there alone? Were you trying to sneak off?”
“What? No, it wasn’t—”
“And of course you couldn’t have known that they were ten of our most elite soldiers. A special squad.”
My head is reeling. “Why would our own soldiers attack me? And they weren’t in uniform. They had no insignia.”
“Who’s to say you didn’t attack them in your attempt to leave the castle? Like I said, it’s your word against the dead. You could be lying and no one would know.”
“Why would I lie?”
“You ask why they would attack you? The answer is they wouldn’t.”
I have no answer to that. My head aches from tiredness, from my sleepless night wondering what happened. My arms ache from being pinned behind my back. My heart aches for the men I have killed, even though they were the ones who attacked me first.
“Your trial will be on the first of the month.”
“That’s two weeks away.”
His smile is wan. “It’s not easy to depose a raja, despite your obvious guilt. There’s a lot of paperwork to be done and people to convince. More than I expected.”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? What you’ve been working for?”
“It’s what I’ve been trying to avoid,” he snaps. “I hoped...believe me, Yosua, I have been trying to prevent this from happening.”
I scowl at him. “All these events were—”
“All these events prove that you are stupider than you look. I’ve been trying to help you. I gave you so many chances to make things right, but you didn’t take them. No, instead you chose to hold on to that stupid religion, chose to exhibit your freakish magic. I had to test you, don’t you see? Why, Yosua? Was it worth it?”
I have no answers for him. None that he would understand.
Guards tramp down the corridor. Jeffett looks at them and nods, waving them forward.
“Get down on your stomach,” one commands, “face to the floor.”
I squint at him.
“Do it!” he says.
Reluctantly, I comply. The door scrapes open and hands hold me down by the shoulders. There’s a series of clicks and the chains fall off my wrists and ankles. Before I can sigh in relief, they drag me towards the other end of the cell, where a thick chain has been welded to the wall. On the other end of the chain is heavy collar, which they lock around my neck before releasing me.
My eyes widen as realisation strikes. This must be the same cell they held Sultan Simson in before his trial—Jeffett’s words finally become clear. He still fears that I have some sort of Amok Strength left. I want to laugh in his self-satisfied face.
They exit and lock the cell behind them, then enter the next cell. My neighbour doesn’t move, just hangs his head as they grab him by the arms. Another guard ushers the other two occupants out—an older woman and...Tanya? Before the guards leave, they shove the man to the ground and kick him. He curls into a ball, protecting his head.
Jeffett walks over to the neighbouring cell and looks at him. “Thank you for your service,” he says with a smirk.
My heart sinks even further as everything starts falling into place. That’s Relka’s family. Jeffett planned this. He sent that message to tempt me into trying to leave. And then he set the soldiers on me, making sure they weren’t in uniform so that I would think they were mercenaries. But for what? For me to expose myself?
Either way, he wins. If I hadn’t defended myself—or if I hadn’t had the Amok Strength—I would be dead...or kidnapped and accused of abdicating. By defending myself, I revealed to Bayangan that I have the Amok Strength—providing grounds for him to execute me.
I drag myself forward again. “Why are you framing me? Why this elaborate scheme?”
“It comes back to the question, will you spend the next two weeks suffering in the dungeons, or will you spend them comfortably in your own room?”
I study his face, trying to figure out his game. “What else do you want from me?”
“Renounce your faith.”
A scornful laugh escapes me. Layla already tried that and failed. “You’re crazy!”
He cocks his head to one side and smirks. “Am I? I’m only doing what you promised to do: what’s best for Bayangan.” He leaves.
“What do you—Uncle!”
I huff, leaning my head against the bars. Hunger gnaws at my belly. I rub at my sore wrists, stretching to get life back into my limbs. I turn to find Sulaiman staring at me, backed up against the far wall.
“It was all a lie, then?” I ask. “You didn’t escape?”
“Escape?”
“Relka said you escaped. You sent him a message saying that the troupe hiding you could bring Relka and me to Maha with you.”
He furrows his brows in confusion. “Why would we want to go to Maha? There’s nothing for us there.”
Figures. I groan at how stupid I’ve been.
Sulaiman comes nearer. “Is he...how is Relka? I haven’t seen him since Jeffett took him.”
“He’s fine. They haven’t done anything to him. He’s as safe as I can make him.”
“You said they lied.” He leans even closer, pressing against the bars that separate us.
I sigh and tell him how we’d been tricked.
He rubs his face. “So that was why...I thought it strange that some off duty guards took me on a walk. They warned me that if I were to try to escape, they would beat my wife and daughter. We went up a few stairs, stood around for a short while and came back down.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I’m such a fool.”
His silence is answer enough.
I don’t know what else to say, so we sit in silence, contemplating all the events that have led us here.
Well, at least I do. I don’t know what Sulaiman thinks about.
––––––––
THE DAYS REPEAT THEMSELVES. The guards take Relka’s mother and sister away in the morning, bringing them back late at night. Sulaiman and I are fed bland porridge and water once a day, usually a short while after they leave. We don’t have anything to do but talk and think.
He tells me about what it means to be Bayangan and believing in good works to save you. I tell him about growing up in Maha, both believing and not believing in Kudus.
“What about now?” Sulaiman asks. “What do you believe in now?”
I huff out my breath. “I believe in Kudus. But I don’t know why I’m here, or if I’m fulfilling my purpose.”
“Then it’s better not to have faith in anything,” he says wryly. “At least you could live your life without worrying about fulfilling a purpose.”
“I can’t believe in works alone. If I am judged by them, I am condemned,” I say in return.
“Ah, but at least you’d know that the people who oppress us now will suffer worse judgement!”
“There is some comfort in that, but I also know that with Kudus, they will eventually get their just rewards—or in this case, their rightful punishments.”
He shrugs at that.
“You shouldn’t trust him,” Sulaiman says abruptly one day. “Jeffett used to be my commanding officer. When I got into trouble, he offered to help by buying my debts from my creditors. He said he’d give me better terms, a longer time to repay him, since we were friends.”
“He didn’t seem quite friendly to you.”
He grunts in agreement. “He called in my debt early, when he returned from Suci. He said he needed immediate funds or access to help. Relka offered himself in my stead. I only let him go because Jeffett promised not to sell him. He said he’d give me time to save up to redeem him. Then a few months ago, he changed his mind again and here we are.”
I apologise again. He’s only here because of me. Because my uncle thinks that enslaving a boy and his family are appropriate bargaining chips to get what he wants. I hate that he’s right.
“This has to stop,” I find myself saying more than once.
“But you can’t do anything about it,” Sulaiman replies until I give up.
Jeffett visits at random intervals.
“Have you given my proposal any further thought?” he asks the next time he appears, giving my tray a look of disgust. He looks around the cell, wrinkling his nose at the smell.
I blink at him. The light from his torch makes my eyes water. “What proposal?”
“The one where you obey and I let you out of this sty to return to your comfortable room and my obedient slave.”
I am tempted. I want my bed and a hot bath and freshly cooked food from the kitchens. I want to stop having to urinate and defecate in the farthest corner I can reach, but still be unable to escape the stench.
“I have nothing else to give you,” I say through gritted teeth.
The next day, they hold me down as they shave the growing stubble on my head. Jeffett stands nearby, gloating.
“You’ll never get a chance to escape,” he says. “I won’t repeat Layla’s mistakes. She let Simson’s hair grow, assuming he’d lost his magic along with his faith.”
I scowl at him.
“Test him,” he orders.
The guards start beating me.
“Fight back, Yosua! Fight back and protect yourself,” Jeffett taunts.
I try, but I am one weakened youth against two burly men. There isn’t much I can do without the Strength.
“Think about it,” Jeffett says before he leaves, “renounce your faith and you’ll live your last nine days in luxury.”
I turn my back to him, hunching into myself.
“What do you have to lose?” Sulaiman asks when he’s gone. “It doesn’t seem like your god is going to rescue you.”
“I must have faith in Him,” I reply. Because otherwise, what have I been doing here? What is the point?
Two days later, Azman comes to see me. He peers through the bars, mouth open, guilt written on his face. I turn my back to him.
“Tuanku?” he says.
I want to laugh. He still calls me that after betraying me? I school myself not to react, scrutinising the stone of the walls as if they were made of gold.
“I’m sorry, I—” his voice hitches. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was just worried about you...the Regent was just supposed to step in until you were well again! You were supposed to return to normal. I—”
“You’ve done enough,” Sulaiman interrupts him. “Baginda Paduka doesn’t want to listen to any more of your fake apologies.”
“Yosua? Please, Yosua, I really—”
“What did you think would happen?” I growl, slamming against the bars.
He gasps and shrinks back as he sees my face. It’s swollen from the now-daily testing, the bruises on my face and body a mottled purple and red.
“Did Jeffett send you? Did he send you down to see your handiwork?”
“No, I—”
“Oh, you sneaked down without his permission, did you? Well, look. Take a good look at what you’ve done. I hope you find a way to justify it because there’s no way you’ll find any peace in death if I have a say in it!”
“You’re not...he won’t...”
I tut at him. “Listen to yourself. Think, Azman! Do you think the Majlis will support anything other than a death sentence after what I did?” I watch his mouth work open and close, unable to find anything to say. “It’s too late.”
“I’ll...I’ll do something,” Azman stammers. “I can...”
“Can what? Gloat?”
His face falls. “Surely you don’t...”
I snort. “Play your cards right, Tuanku, and you’ll be one step closer to the throne.”
I slump back onto the floor, too tired to do anything. I am so hungry and cold.