While she was talking, her body slowly slid into a horizontal position. The tapestry felt rough against her cheek and its musty smell filled her nostrils. She remembered the mold and placed her palm beneath her face. Her legs extended over the bare wooden frame, but the other, still padded part of the couch, provided some comfort for her upper body. She pulled the sword closer to her. Feeling its cold scabbard against her skin gave her a sense of security.

She couldn’t mark the exact moment she sank into a profound sleep, but her consciousness was re-awaken by whispering voices. “We are three…” were the only words she was able to discern and they resonated in her mind as strangely distorted sounds, coming from all around her.

“We are three…” That, she was certain, was a woman’s voice. She tried to open her eye, but the eyelid wouldn’t move. The rest of her body wouldn’t move either.

High-pitched giggling followed, causing her a very unpleasant sensation. She tried to think of something else, to chase this strange dream away, but it didn’t help. Whatever was happening, was beyond her control. She heard other sounds apart from the woman’s voice; a man’s chuckle, and a deep, muffled laugh of another man.

“She hears us…” A woman’s voice suddenly said. “Yes! She hears us!” The giggling turned into shrieks of laughter.

“What is this? Who are you?” She was turning around to all directions, aware her physical body wasn’t really moving. There was nothing but darkness and echoes of creepy voices.

All of a sudden, a slender female arm popped out from the dark. It was covered in a lace glove, which reached up until the elbow. Its exposed thin fingers ended with long, elegant nails of the same bright red color as the glove. For a few moments, that was all she could see, then, like a stage curtain the darkness spread, and a tall, thin woman, the proprietor of the gloved arm, stepped out of it. She was dressed in a full-length gown closely fitted to her body, with deep décolleté, its color matching the gloves and the nails. Luscious, long red hair fell over her exposed white, bony shoulders.

The woman’s lips curled up into a wicked smirk, cast in her direction. The whole image lasted no more than a couple of seconds and then everything became blurred. The giggling, laughs, and muffled voices were heard again.

Tension built in her chest as if she’d been holding air for a while now.

“Life.” A man’s voice suddenly said.

“What? Who said that?” she cried out.

“Death.” It was the woman’s voice again.

“Love.” A quieter, deep voice said.

“Why….why are you here?”

“Death…love…life…” the three words echoed over and over again. The blurred images grew larger and spun around her, making her feel nauseous.

“Who are you? Tell me!” Her mind was screaming. She needed air, she needed to get out of there.

The woman’s red lips appeared right in front of her: “We are three!” And with that the curtain of darkness closed again, taking with it the blurry images and the voices.

She woke up abruptly, her upper torso jerking forward. Opening her eye she looked around franticly until the rotten couch, crumbling walls, and the damp smell reassured her she was still in the Sanctuary. The Source sat at his usual spot by the wall and stared at her quietly with his black eyes.

What a fucked up dream, she thought to herself, wiping off sweat from her forehead. She felt weakened and her mouth was terribly dry. She had no idea how long she was asleep, but she was careful not to show her confusion to the Source. If she was going mad, she didn’t want him to notice. She had to hold on a little longer, till she’d get the information.

“Shall we continue?” asked the Source, sounding very mechanical.

“Sure, can I….is there some water to drink?” Her tongue stuck to her palate, as she spoke.

“There is a fridge in the small storage room in the back. You’ll find jars of food supplements, should be a variety of tastes…”

She sprung from the couch towards the direction of the Source’s stare. In her haste, she forgot about the tube, which got stuck at the edge of the couch’s frame, and pulled her head backward. It almost snapped her neck. She retaliated with some serious swearing at the tube while untangling it. She pulled more of it from the wall to make sure this wouldn’t happen again.

The small storage place was in the same bad condition as the rest of the place. Almost all wooden shelves had collapsed on the floor and she had to remove pieces of rubble to get to the fridge. Once she managed to open it though, a nice stock of jars awaited her inside. She took one and drank from it until she finished it all. With another jar in her hand, she returned to the couch.

Sipping quietly and glancing at the Source from time to time, she marveled how delicious a food supplement could taste after a long enough period of starvation. As the liquid filled her body, she began to feel much better.

“Have you had any moral concerns about undertaking actions, which violated the law?” asked the Source.

With the jar by her mouth, she considered his question for a moment. His tone was not an accusing one, it was posed with the same intent as every other question he had asked so far -- to assert the facts.

“Legal is what the Emperor says it’s legal, so to hell with it. The injustices his govern perpetuates, especially when it comes to the Settlements, are so enormous and obvious, that I doubt anyone feels obliged to respect the legal order. People do it only for one reason - out of fear. But if you are courageous enough and you find the way around it…” she shrugged and flashed him a disparaging smile.

“What was your way around it?”

“Well, in our case, it meant procuring raw parts from other sources than VoxDei, which, appointed by the Emperor under some silly pretense of security was the sole legal distributor. We were also servicing people, who didn’t want to or couldn’t obtain the permission for body parts replacement from Imperial bureaucrats.”

“What were your other sources for raw parts?”

“There are various ways to obtain raw body parts at a much better price than the ones sold by VoxDei and even of better quality. Body scavenging, for example. We resorted to that on a few occasions. You know, no harm when people are dead already.” She grinned and sipped more from the jar.

“But that’s a rare opportunity and you can’t rely on it for a steady supply. Then, there are the so-called bloody parts. Ever heard of this expression?” She arched an eyebrow at the Source but he said nothing.

“Some providers kill people with the sole intent to chop off their artificial parts and then re-sell them. I know, it sounds hideous, and it is. Most of the artisans don’t condone it, myself included. There’s a kind of a silent agreement in our trade not to buy such parts, because, where it’d get us if such acts would prove lucrative? Everyone would start killing everyone, right? But, some do it, which means the customers exist. Personally, I prefer to work with clean raw parts, which haven’t been fitted yet. I had my own network of suppliers, most of them small-time smugglers, who steal from the shipments to VoxDei or have direct connections with the Aynu companies. I kept of course the unprofitable, legal part of my business as a necessary cover for the Imperial Tax Inspectors.”

The Source stared quietly. She wasn’t sure if there was a connection between his silence and his dissatisfaction, but not wanting to risk another unpleasant buzzing experience inside her head, she figured it would be better to keep talking.

“I didn’t have any moral problems with stealing from the Emperor if that’s what you want me to say. But, hey, as far as I know your sect didn’t see exactly eye to eye with the Emperor either. What did you do to piss him off?” She cast a suggestive look at the decaying surroundings.

“We respect the Emperor, but more than anything else we value our complete independence. The Emperor felt threatened, so we had to leave.”

“Even the independent, have to depend on something,” she remarked, shaking the jar in front of her. “Mais Solaris supplements, this’s some fancy shit.”

“There are those who believe in what we do. It doesn’t affect our work in any way.”

“Of course not,” she said in a patronizing tone and raised the jar. “Cheers!”

“So you agreed to steal for Tengu?” The Source changed the subject.

“Well, yes…” Her eye acquired a more vivid blue color. “There just wasn’t any other way.”

~~~

“You agreed to WHAT?” Margot’s jaw dropped and a variety of emotions passed over her face while her stare flickered back and forth between Ana and H.

Ana put down the jar she’d just emptied and projected a stubborn look at the white surface on the table. H, sitting across her, raised his hands with open palms up as if to say he had nothing to do with any of it.

“I made a great deal, you should be happy,” said Ana in a low, almost offended tone.

“No, no! You made an insane deal, a deal that will get us all killed, if not by the authorities then by the rebels,” Margot objected vehemently.

“I’m telling you, I thought it through. Yes, it is a bit dangerous --”

“--and that’s the understatement of the year!” Margot interjected, rolling her eyes. H chuckled loudly.

“--but…it is possible,” Ana concluded her sentence with a stern look at H.

“H!” Margot’s eyes turned pleadingly at him.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to hear the plan,” he said calmly.

“Dammit! You two are both idiots!” Margot pulled out a chair and sat next to Ana. “Stemetski, please,” she begged. “Think about it and use your brain this time. Do you really want to break into the royal lab and steal some parts, which are considered practically mythical, all the while relying on some rebel’s word?”

“He’s not lying about the parts being there, I’m sure of it. He wants them too much.”

Margot leaned forward, bringing her face even closer to Ana. “Is it because of him that you want to do it...because of this Tengu character? Are you falling for him? Is that why you’re thinking crazy?”

“What? No!” Ana arched backward defensively. “I mean, I’m doing it for him, yes…but ‘cause he’s a client.”

Margot’s focused hazel eyes didn’t let her go. “Because of this elusive Nakamura piece, then? You’ve been obsessing over it since I’ve known you. Every time you hear about it, your eyes get that crazed glow.”

“Look, Margot, I too had a hard time believing they actually exist. Until I’ve seen one on Tengu. And, according to his words, there are more of them in the lab. Can you at least try to understand what that means to me?”

Margot stared at her speechless, then buried her face in her hands. “Shit! We’re fucked!”

“I’m still waiting to hear your brilliant plan,” said H, tipping back his chair on its rear legs.

“You think all this is just empty talk, don’t you, H?” asked Ana.

“The plan…” persisted H.

“Okay, here it is. The Event celebration!”

H kept tipping back his chair, while Margot raised her head and tilted it to the side in expectation. But no other words came from Ana so she snatched the cap from her head and smashed it on the table. “Meaning, Stemetski?”

Ana gave her a reproachful look, reclaimed the cap, and put it back on her head. “Well, as you both know, during the Event celebration the Forbidden City opens up. It’s the one time of the year when even people from the Settlements feel entitled to enjoy the spoils of the Emperor’s City, so they shamelessly flood its narrow streets. In such a huge mass of commoners, we’d be invisible. Even more importantly, this is the only time, when also the White Palace is open to the outsiders.”

“The courtyard of the White Palace, not the White Palace itself,” remarked H quickly.

Ana leaned forward on her elbows with a glow of confidence in her eyes.

“You’re forgetting the Gala reception inside.”

“You mean the Ball? Bah…” H dismissed her. “That’s by the Emperor’s invitation only, and there’s no chance in this world any of us gets invited. Your plan fails right here.”

“That’s it then!” exclaimed Margot happily, but Ana’s confident stare didn’t waver and a smug grin set on her face.

“You’re right about that. We’d never get invited. But we do know people who will and they always go with an entourage.”

H let his chair swing back onto all four legs with a bang, and leaned on the table too. “Sure, I can think of a few of our kind that will definitely get the invitation, but I can’t think of any one among them that would even consider taking you along to the White Palace.”

“Really? Well, I can certainly think of one,” said Ana, a smug smile persisting on her lips.

“Who?” asked Margot eagerly.

“Fi-li-po-va,” she replied, emphasizing each syllable.

Margot frowned. “Filipova? One of the bosses?”

“Yes, the one! She and a few other bosses get invited to the Ball every year. They all willingly fall for the smart game the Emperor plays - inviting the rich and the powerful from the Settlements to his palace, making them feel special one night per year and keeping them on the leash for the rest of it.”

H chuckled and shook his head. “Nicely put, but do you really think Filipova will take you to the Ball just ‘cause you did that piece for her years ago? It’s nothing but wishful thinking. She doesn’t give a damn about you. You’re nothing but just another service worker for her. …Or are you rather counting on that son of hers?”

“What son?” asked Margot.

Ana sighed and dismissively waved her hand. “Filipov, her son… he kinda liked me.”

“Yeah, but Stem didn’t exactly return his feelings,” said H with a mischievous grin. “I don’t see him being very cooperative.”

“Neither do I,” said Ana. “There is, though, another way to get to Filipova. I don’t like it, but hey, this job wasn’t supposed to be easy anyway.”

H stroked his chin a few times. “Oh, I see now! Very cunning, Stem.”

“What…what?” Margot’s eyes passed back and forth between the two of them.

“Akayev…I forgot he’s Filipova’s nephew. A nephew she adores more than her own son. That should be interesting.” H giggled.

“You’d actually ask Akayev…for a favor?” Margot started giggling as well.

“Come on guys, it’s not such a big deal. As I said, it’s not going to be easy--”

“Certainly not for you…” H and Margot were now both snickering loudly.

“Yeah, yeah…you laugh now, but at the end, I’ll have the last laugh with Nakamura pieces in my hands. We’d be provided for life, and what a comfortable life that would be!”

Margot’s face became serious again. “Okay, this was fun, now let’s stop with this madness and think of a polite excuse for the rebels.”

“She’s right, Stem. Even if you get an invitation to the Ball, and that’s a big if, there’s still a long way from dancing at the Grand Hall to getting into the lab, steal the merchandise, and leave the City without being killed by the Guards at a certain point,” argued H.

“I haven’t made a detailed plan yet, but I’m telling you, it’s possible. I have some connections, I can get plans of the Palace. The security will be slack, the Emperor always wants to show he has nothing to fear on such occasions, and besides, we’ll have Tengu at our disposal.”

“The Eve of the Winter Solstice is only four months away, there simply isn’t enough time.”

The moment H said that Margot threw a punch at him. He caught her hand just in time. “Hey…easy there! My shoulder, remember?”

Margot let go but shot him an angry look. “Why are you encouraging her? There’s nothing to even consider about all this.” Then she turned to Ana. “And what’s going on with you and that rebel? You suddenly trust him like he’s your best friend!”

“Yeah, Stem, tell us,” said H poignantly.

Ana opened her mouth to say something but her intent was interrupted by the loud voices coming from the outside. She stood up and peered out of the window. Their backyard was peaceful and it seemed all the commotion was coming from the front of the house.

“We better go and see,” said Margot.

***

A crowd of people gathered on the wide street just outside the house. The dust from the unpaved road glittered in the dim light provided by a couple of lamps on each side of the street. Once an industrial zone, this area was now a neighborhood of artisans of various traders, who bought off warehouses and turned them into their homes and workshops. A small house right across Ana’s was the one the crowd was focused around. It was the house of Keppler, the carpenter.

Ana pushed her way to the front, with H and Margot following her. Apart from the neighbors, the crowd was made up mostly of Settlements’ youngsters and thugs, who had nothing better to do than passing their time on the streets and waiting for something to happen. The bitter expression on their faces and the hate in their eyes were signs that this was not just a mere beating, stealing, or killing -- a daily occurrence on the Settlements’ streets. Ana knew such expression could mean only one thing – the visit of the Imperial envoy.

She was not mistaken. The spotless white uniforms of three Imperial soldiers came into her view soon enough. The soldiers stood in front of Keppler’s house, observing attentively the growing crowd around them. They were not just regular soldiers, they were the Imperial Guards. Their white uniforms were no different from the uniforms of regular soldiers: a simple knee-length tunic with wide, pleated trousers underneath -- the type of uniform that reminded Ana of ancient Aynu warriors she saw in her father’s history books -- and the sword tucked behind a wide sash. What did differ the Guards from the rest of their colleagues was the unnaturally void but at all times completely focused stare, which was usually enough to keep everyone else at a safe distance. That, and of course the gun. Stashed next to their sword it was a clear warning in case somebody failed to perceive the threat in those eyes. In fact, the Guards’ reputation was such, that only three were needed to keep safe the persona most hated in the Settlements – the Imperial Tax Inspector.

Local thugs, some of them familiar faces to Ana, posed with a fake daring look in their eyes, a look containing no real threat, no sincere intention to pursue the glory, which would be theirs, had they engaged in a fight with a Guard. The tensions were high, surely, but none of them was yet brave enough to die. They all came to bathe in the Guards’ supremacy, feeling like they’re challenging death just by being near them. It made them feel good about themselves, the closer they stood the braver they looked. But as soon as they saw their reflection in the Guard’s eye they instinctively made a step backward. Once, long ago, such a challenge did occur. A whole clan of local misfits attacked the Imperial envoy. In a few minutes, all the attackers were beheaded or shot in the head. The same fate befell on that day everyone, who was closely or remotely associated with the dead clan members.

Every visit of the Tax Inspector was dreaded. He took away that little people had. But this visit was not just one of his routine checks and the heart-breaking cries of a woman, heard from the inside of Keppler’s house, confirmed Ana’s suspicions.

One could get away practically with everything in the Settlements. The authorities didn’t give a damn what went on outside the Forbidden City. Except when it came to paying taxes. That part of the law was enforced in the Settlements to the death, literally.

“Poor old sod,” she said. “I guess he didn’t report the few pieces of furniture he sold to pay for his new hand piece.”

“No, perhaps, it’s not that,” said Margot, shaking her head in refusal of Ana’s words.

Ana chuckled. “You wanna bet?”

Margot dropped her head and muttered: “Dammit, I told him I could do his books. Just a couple of chests, he said, they’d never noticed”.

“Seems they did,” remarked Ana, earning a dark look from Margot.

Keppler, his head bent down, appeared at the door with two regular soldiers on his sides, holding him by the elbows. Following them was the gloomy, tall silhouette of the Tax Inspector. In his attire, similar to those of the soldiers, except it was black with a long white vest over it, and a small, cornucopia-shaped, lacquered hat on his head, he looked like death herself. Next to him with her hands raised in a plea, was Keppler’s wife. Her wrinkled face was pale and her eyes were red from tears.

It was a sad sight. Keppler’s small round glasses sat crookedly on his nose, while his thin body had to be dragged by the soldiers as his legs gave in. He didn’t resist, he kept turning back to his wife, trying to calm her down. They were an old couple, and, their only son killed during the Event, all they had, was each other. His carpentry provided for their modest living. A few months ago he had injured his hand and he had no choice but to buy a new one in order to continue his work.

The two soldiers stopped a few meters in front of the house and forced Keppler to his knees. The three Imperial Guards immediately surrounded the party, preventing the wife to come any closer. The Tax Inspector moved to the front left side of Keppler, took a scroll from his pocket, and read out loud:

“This person that goes by the name of Keppler, and lives by the profession of a carpenter has been found guilty of tax evasion.”

That was all he said. He folded the scroll, placed it back behind his white vest, and made another step sideways, away from the accused. It was a sign for the soldiers to begin with the ritual. That’s how Ana called it, a ritual. Because everything they did was determined precisely and executed with cold precision, just like in some sectarian rite.

One of the Imperial Guards positioned himself with slow ceremonial steps behind the old man, while the two soldiers twisted upwards both of his arms so that his upper torso bent slightly forward. Keppler turned his head, his eyes searching desperately for his wife, but the soldiers pushed him back into position. The other two Imperial Guards stood near the Tax Inspector, their empty eyes scrutinizing every move among the crowd. A loud shriek was heard from the wife, and voices arose from the crowd as the ritual continued.

The Imperial Guard drew the gun from his sash and placed it at the rare base of Keppler’s head at a downward angle, towards the body. People started to move back and forth, but as soon as any of them crossed the invisible line of what was considered a safe distance from the envoy, the nearest of the two Imperial Guards slid his foot slightly forward, placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword, and narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular but conveyed the feeling he was aware of everything and everyone around him. The move sufficed and all those who advanced returned swiftly to their places.

“Tsk tsk…there go my closets,” said Ana.

As the words left her mouth, she received a harsh smack on her left cheek and was confronted with Margot’s glassy eyes filled to the edge with contempt and anger.

“Auwww! What the fuck!” Ana cried.

H intervened and pulled Margot onto himself, pressing her face against his chest. She closed her eyes, even though his large arm over her head already prevented her from seeing anything.

One shot was fired and Keppler’s body collapsed forward. The execution was a routinized procedure, planned to cause instant death. It was clean and the bullet stayed inside the body. The Guards never missed. There were no courts, the punishment for the tax evasion was immediate. Always a shot in the head. Once the brain was dead, no replacement parts could help.

“Come on, Margot,“ said Ana, rubbing her red cheek. “You know better than to get emotional over such things.”

Margot wanted to move towards her again, but H’s arm around her shoulders kept her in place.

“Leave her,“ he said to Margot, “you know that’s just her way of coping with it.”

“Right…how very perceptive, H,” Ana grunted and spat on the dusty ground.

The envoy left in a very orderly fashion, with the two regular soldiers in front, followed by the tax inspector, and the three Imperial Guards positioned around him in a perfect triangle. The crowd slowly dispersed. Ana walked back to the house and so did H with Margot still under his arm. As they reached the door, a reinforced white limousine drove past them. The Guards galloped closely behind it on their white horses, lifting a cloud of dust from the road.

The widow’s cries were still heard from across the street. Some of the neighbors carried Keppler’s body inside the house. A couple of youngsters helped the poor woman to her feet and accompanied her to her lonely home. Ana remained at the door, observing until the street turned quiet again. At times like this even the tough streets of the Settlements could muster up some compassion, for everyone was aware they could be next.

Back in the kitchen, Margot opened the fridge and stared blankly at its contents. Ana sat at the table and drank from the jar, while H stood by the window and gazed out on the backyard. The gloomy atmosphere lingered for a while until Margot slammed the door of the fridge.

“I’ll contact Akayev and set up a meeting. Get ready, Stemetski. I’m in.” Margot’s voice was cold but her eyes burned with resentment.

Ana nodded and they both looked at H. His affirmative shrug sufficed as a reply.