Zeros 2 Heroes - The People's Publisher

Dry air hacked at Trajan's throat. The heavy coat he still wore crushed down on his shoulders, prickling at his skin. But he waited, patiently, no hint of complaint. Even here, it was the easiest path.

Oakes hunched back into his dark chair, his own coat tossed over the seat of the only other chair in the room, forcing both Trajan and the woman, Celeste, to stand in attendance. Trajan was used to it, from before. But why a woman would endure such treatment amazed him. 

"This isn't working." Oakes rubbed at his temples. "This Trajan creature gets us closer, gets us so that we can actually grab the food, but those Cascadians still seem to be one step ahead. I need results." He forced both hands off his face and through his dark hair. "I need that food."

"What of your raider?" Celeste asked, her voice a ripple weaving carefully through jagged stone.

"How am I to get him back? The Council refuses to speak to the Cascadians. That would be admitting that they're breaking the treaties; that they've failed Cordova."

"The need for food is unending."

"Only a bit, only a bit to buy more time... " Oakes battled his scowl, sinking further into himself. "Why can't I get this to work?"

Then, suddenly as if awaking, he remembered Trajan. "Get him out of here while I think."

Celeste tipped her head forward, acknowledging the command. Her long black hair fell forward over her bare shoulders.  

She led Trajan through windowless corridors where sleek walls blended one into the other. He knew they meant to confuse him during this walk, so that he could never be certain of his location, but he'd navigated a maze in his own underwater city in order to escape. This Cordovan city proved far easier. He knew the way from his own room, past Oakes' rooms and to the outside door with the stairs to the barren cove. Beyond that, he had nowhere else to go.

The woman, Celeste, stopped in front of the door to his room and unlocked it. She pulled open the door and walked into the room, no longer waiting for him to enter first, as she first had. Trajan followed behind, about five paces, as he had done for all women since infancy. He scowled, pinched his lips into a hard line and cursed himself for being unable to adapt as easily to his new surroundings as this woman had been able to adapt to his own habits.

Feeling the heat of anger on his face, Trajan strode past Celeste when she paused, and went straight to the large window. He glared down through the glass onto the barren path below. No glimpse of the sky or of the ocean. This is how they've made it a prison, he thought.

He heard Celeste walk towards him, but he refused to turn. She should be forced to follow him, as she did Oakes. She had no power here. She was an object, dressed to show her curves and warm coloured skin, obviously for the pleasure of Oakes. Trajan tightened the prickly coat tighter around his chest. He should treat her as Oakes did.

"I have something for you, Trajan," she said quietly, possibly even kindly. But he refused to turn. Not for a woman, not ever again.

"Trajan?" Celeste touched his shoulder. He flinched back as if struck, then cursed himself once again. How could he possibly fear her? She was only a servant to Oakes, weaker than all men here.

Her hand darted away, to rest near her mouth. "I'm sorry," she said. As if tempted once again to touch him, she reached forward. "I won't hurt you. You don't need to be afraid of me?"

Seeing her movement as a reflection in the window, he turned to face her, but stepped out of reach. She dropped her hand to her side, but met his eye. Trajan fought every instinct in order to maintain eye contact and not defer to her.

"I'll show you," she said. Softly as a tendril, she moved across the room toward the bathing room. "I know you love your bath," she went on as she walked. "I found some salts for you to add to the water." She disappeared into the other room and returned with a large container. "It's kept under the sink. It should make you more comfortable."

Considering the bite of chemicals in their dead, processed water, this gift was extraordinary. Trajan felt a craving build inside him so strongly he could almost taste the salt in his mouth. There must be a price.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

Trajan shrank under the coat, grateful for the shield. A gift this personal could not be without conditions. Surely she expects something from him. Something equally personal.

Yet she walked straight for the door and let herself out. He heard the door locked from the outside.

The container sat on the edge of the sink. She knew he would use it. Sea salts, in large chunky crystals, as she promised. He grabbed a handful and dropped it into the bath and started up the water. As it filled, he pulled off his coat and let it fall to the floor outside the bathing room, shucked the rough pants he wore, closed the door and locked it.

Trajan stirred the salts into the water with his arms before easing into the water. His scales lifted from his skin with a content rustling, and his fins eased out from the back of his calves. His bones and body ached in the hard water, but the salts made it tolerable, even pleasurable. He sank into the water, curling onto his side like a child until he was fully submerged, the fin along the back stretching to the side of the bath. Then, he let himself sleep.