In the middle of the night, Rita was at her desk in the executive chamber taking her first meal in close to ten hours. It consisted of hard bread, steamed potatoes, and a vegetable soup with just a few scraps of meat.
The food shortage was becoming severe. Even as the district’s administrator─especially as its administrator─Rita couldn’t allow herself to eat more extravagantly than the populace.
The young soldier by her side had volunteered to test her food for poison. He took a sip of her water, then sliced small portions off the surface and center of the bread and potatoes, and tried these too.
Over the last few weeks there had been a number of attempts on Rita’s life. She had come close to being cut down in the streets, and had been shot at. No one had tried poison yet, but caution was her greatest ally. She couldn’t afford to drop her guard, even here in the district hall.
The taster was the only person with her in the oversized chamber, but more guards were posted under the windows and in the corridor beyond the door.
Rita pulled in the mountain of reports her troops had brought her. Under the wavering candlelight, fully aware that it was bad manners, she scanned the reports as she ate.
Despite all of her devotion and hard work, the stream of residents who chose to act out of self-interest was endless. People who hid sheep that could be milked, who lied about their age to be excused from the Night Harvest─at least the majority had been arrested after their neighbors or family had turned them in.
Some of the reports were marked with black-red stains. Blood. The soldiers must have beaten the accused during the interrogation. It wasn’t behavior that she actually welcomed, but no one admitted to crimes otherwise. She needed to give tacit approval to violence, as a necessary evil to get the swindlers and crooks to talk.
There was a knock at the door.
Her taster looked sharply up. Rita was more or less done with her meal. His job, she realized, had been completed a long time ago. Engrossed with the reports, it had slipped her mind to dismiss him.
“Come in,” she said towards the door.
The face of one of her troops, still young, poked in through the gap. He was shortsighted and wearing glasses. Rita had come to value the boy lately. Despite his youth he was a fast thinker.
He entered the chamber and stood to attention, saluting.
“Reporting in! Eugen has admitted to plotting treason! He is also connected to the clandestine forces.”
It took Rita a moment to process the words, but she remembered quickly enough.
Eugen. Among the soldiers who’d been left behind in Quinta, he was third in rank after Rita and Amanda. Rita had held him in fairly high regard, but recently she’d been tipped off that he might be connected to the rebels. She’d ordered a few of her subordinates to interrogate him.
“I see. That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“And?”
“Pardon me?”
“Names, of traitors within the military. Did he give you any?”
“I…don’t think so.” His eyes moved nervously. Perhaps he was admonishing himself for having come in to report without obtaining all of the facts.
“Go and find out,” Rita said, but immediately reconsidered it. “Actually, no. Have him brought to me.”
“Yes. Right away.”
The soldier saluted and bounded out of the room. Rita caught a fleeting glimpse of the troops standing guard in the corridor.
Her taster shifted uncomfortably by her side. He seemed unsure whether he should leave and whether he was even allowed to ask if he should.
“Stay a little more,” Rita instructed. She wanted as many of her troops as possible to witness how she dealt with conspirators.
Soon afterwards, multiple footsteps approached. There was another knock at the door, and on Rita’s acknowledgment it was flung open. Two soldiers came in, dragging another with them. He was built like a rock and had a craggy face to boot. The bespectacled soldier stood in wait behind them.
“Bring him here.” Still seated, Rita flicked her eyes towards the space in front of her desk.
The bulky soldier, Eugen, was forced forwards, the two guards tugging him by the arms. His legs hung completely limp, and his toes scraped over the floor. Maybe they’d broken his kneecaps. His arms were also slack at either side. The tips of the fingers on his left hand were wrapped in layers of cloth, no doubt originally white but now stained and dark. They’d removed his fingernails. That was all it had taken─losing his fingernails on one hand and the use of his legs─for him to confess his crimes.
He was weaker than she’d thought.
The soldiers hurled him to the floor. One grabbed him by the hair, made him lie on his side, and yanked his head up. The other stood behind them keeping a watchful eye.
Rita nodded at the taster, who was still next to her. She glanced at the table, and he scrambled to put away the empty plates.
She examined Eugen anew. His once craggy face, severely beaten, was now swollen out of shape. His eyes were puffy and almost fully closed. Blood streaked his cheeks and jawline, swabbed unceremoniously away from his nose and broken lips.
“Is he conscious?”
Eugen’s eyes opened a fraction, revealing that he was.
“Commander,” he rasped. “Please…help.”
“I will help you. Once you’ve told us everything you know.”
“But I…haven’t…”
“Didn’t you admit it? Aren’t you connected to the resistance?”
“I─”
“He did,” interrupted the soldier still holding him by the hair.
The one behind them moved in and stamped down on the captive’s toe.
A baritone cry issued from Eugen’s mouth, a voice like an animal in its death throes. Tears trickled down from the slits that had been his eyes. His toenails must have been removed as well, and his shoes were probably filled with blood.
“Any other traitors? What info did you leak? How have you assisted them?”
“I… I…” Eugen repeated the self-same word.
The soldier standing behind him stamped down on his toe again─and again and again, putting all his weight on it each time.
Eugen writhed, screaming in agony and sending spittle into the air, then cowered into a slobbering ball. Shivers ran up and down his frame.