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Jason awoke to the rich aroma of food and to a mouth trying to salivate but failing miserably. His first thought was about how hungry he was, followed quickly with the realization that his hunger was topped only by his thirst and his need to pee.
As he attempted to sit up, he realized how sore he was. The hard cement floor of the cavern had added to the discomfort of muscles recently abused by the beating from the four men.
He groaned softly and tried to turn over, opening his eyes as he did so. Several yards away in the center of the cavern burned a large fire with a dozen or more children standing around it with long sticks in their hands. Jason suspected the small objects impaled on the sticks were the bodies of some kind of small animal. He gulped once, his appetite suddenly curbed by the thought of what kind of critters these kids were likely to find in the Pipes. Perhaps he would pass on dinner after all.
At the edge of the fire farthest from him, Seattle stood before a large pot that she stirred from time to time. As Jason moved around trying to find a comfortable position, the chains clanged loudly.
Seattle looked up from her pot stirring, then handing the ladle to one of the kids, walked over to him making sure to stop outside his limited reach.
"The sleeping giant awakes," she said, and for the first time, Jason noticed the soft lilt of her voice. She smiled down at him. "Dinner is almost ready. Will you join us for the repast?"
Jason shrugged. "What's on the menu? Not that I'm choosy or anything. It's just that I have a sensitive digestive tract."
"We were very fortunate on our outing today. We have sewage soup and filet of rat," Seattle replied, smacking her lips.
Jason felt himself turning green as the foul bile caught in his throat.
"Ahh, on second thought, perhaps just some water to start. I'm more thirsty than hungry."
Seattle walked over to a large jug sitting against one wall and filled a tin cup with water. As she approached him, Jason noticed she stopped just behind a line that had been scratched on the cement floor and reached over the line to hand him the cup.
They must think I'm a trained killer, not a professional gambler, Jason thought, then stopped as he realized that in some ways he was just that. He'd taken a number of self-defense classes over the years. After seeing him fight the four thugs and almost win, no doubt they decided not to take any chances. His predicament was looking worse by the moment.
Jason downed the cup of water and asked for a second, then a third. Seattle fetched each one without comment. As he sipped on the third cup, she stood nearby and watched him, finally saying, "You may want to save some room for dinner. I'm afraid I was pulling your leg about the menu."
Jason stared at her over the rim of the cup. "Oh?"
"Yes, we're having a soy-stew made from a recipe from my father and roasted porto-meat straight from a successful raid."
Jason paused to consider what Seattle had said. Father? Was she referring to the Patriarchy? He doubted it. And the food had come from a successful raid. That must be how they obtained most, if not all, their food. So, I'm being held by a band of thieves and robbers. Great. I should fit right in.
"What do you mean, 'a recipe from your father?'" Jason asked, holding his breath and half-expecting to hear Wompun cough behind him.
"I'm sorry. I forgot that the term isn't much used on the surface," Seattle replied. "Of course, he wasn't my real father, but I grew up thinking of the Piper as my father. Most of the kids did. He raised me from the age of six to thirteen. Then I left his family along with three other teenage girls."
"Were you raised under the MED?" Jason asked, wondering how far he could go before she clammed up.
"You've not heard of the Piper?" Seattle replied without hesitation. "Funny, I thought everyone had." And I thought everyone had heard of Jason Joval, Jason thought.
"My early days were spent in the Northwest Dome—in the Seattle district, which is where my name came from, but the MED is now my home for the foreseeable future."
The two of them continued to talk for several minutes with Jason asking the questions and Seattle answering them. Finally, amazed by Seattle's openness, Jason said, "I'm curious. I asked most of these same questions of Cinder earlier today, and she declined to answer, but you're not the least hesitant."
Seattle smiled at the comment. "I see I've taught Cinder well. In the family, we feel each person's past is their own to share with others or not. You may have found she was more forthcoming about herself."
Jason nodded.
"I'm happy to tell you about my past. It's really not that different from most of the others here, just longer. Besides, what's the harm in your knowing?"
"Aren't you afraid I might report you to the Patriarchy or something? Knowing about your past might help them in some way."
Seattle chuckled. "Yes, you could do that, but you would first have to make it back to the surface. You see, I've decided what I'm going to do with you."
"What's that?" Jason asked.
"I'm keeping you."
"You're what? You can't mean that. I've enjoyed this little adventure, and I'm sure you're a fine group of people, but I really must get back. I'm an important person in the Gambling Zone. If I don't show up pretty soon, people will come looking for me." Jason felt his face break out in a cold sweat.
Seattle shook her head. "I did a little research while we were on our outing. It's part of the reason I took Tinker with me. As a matter of fact, part of what you say is right. You are quite well known for your gambling prowess and your extravagant lifestyle. At the same time, you live alone, you often disappear for days and sometimes weeks without explanation. I seriously doubt anyone will come looking for you for quite some time."
Jason felt the beads of sweat run down his temples. "What happens then?"
"Simple," Seattle replied. "They won't find you."