Chapter 4
Grandmaster Raven tossed me a set of dingy gray clothes and a pair of straw sandals.
"Change into these."
The clothes looked grimy—no clue if they'd ever seen a wash.
The straw soles were already worn and fuzzy, like they'd been through a few too many miles.
"So, uh, where's the changing room?" I asked.
The whole place went dead silent for a second.
A few of the male slaves snuck a look at me, like they were watching someone about to kick the bucket making one last pointless struggle.
Grandmaster Raven's face was stone-cold.
"You've got ten seconds to change. If you don't, I'll let the Hex-Bugs help you out of those clothes."
I changed in eight seconds flat.
Fastest I've ever changed clothes in my life.
That night, I got assigned to a shack that couldn't have been more than 65 square feet.
Three sides were rough wooden planks, and the fourth side was completely open to the elements.
There was a layer of straw spread out on the floor—guess that was supposed to be my bed.
Someone was crouched in the corner.
It was an old man, so skinny he looked like a walking stick, his hair a mess of white, and his face so wrinkled it looked like a walnut.
When he saw me walk in, he gave me a smile that was hard to read—like he'd seen it all and then some.
"New guy?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"How many years you in for?"
"Thirty," I said.
He let out a low whistle.
"I've been here eighteen years," he said.
"What'd you do to land yourself here?" I asked.
"My old man crossed a witch," he replied.
"Your dad screwed up, so why are you the one getting punished?" I asked.
"Clan rules. Sons take the fall for their fathers," he said.
Damn, they're still running the whole "guilt by association" thing here.
They call him Sev.
"There are a few things you need to remember," he said, holding up his gnarled fingers.
"First, always keep your head down when you walk. Bow to the witches, and if you see Grandmaster Raven, get on your knees. Gender equality? That's not a thing here.
"Second, you finish your work by the end of the day, or you don't eat. If you're slow, the Hex-Bugs will come after you.
"Third—" Sev dropped his voice, "never mess with Grandmaster Raven. Last month, some poor guy just stared at her a second too long."
"And then?" I asked.
"Now he's stuck in the bug chamber, mushrooms growing all over him," Sev said.
"Mushrooms?" I repeated, my voice going shaky.
"Hex-Bugs crawl inside you, and these weird lumps start sprouting under your skin—look just like mushrooms," he explained.
Tina, this is all your fault—you've really screwed me over this time.
That night, I lay on the straw, listening to the mountain wind whistle through the cracks in the wooden planks.
The bugs chirped in waves, their sounds punctuating the night.
Somewhere in the distance, an unknown animal let out a low, rumbling growl.
I stared up at the hole in the roof, catching a glimpse of a tiny patch of stars through the gap.
Thirty years. Why am I the one taking the fall for my wife's screw-up?
Nobody spoke up for me. Not a single soul.
I rolled over and closed my eyes.
Just as I was about to fall asleep, my arm started itching.
I glanced down— No bigger than a fingernail, a black bug was perched right on my forearm.
A Hex-Bug.
I went stiff as a board.
But the bug didn't bite me.
It just perched there, its antennae twitching.
Then it did a lap around my arm.
And then it just hunkered down and went to sleep.
It was like a cat snuggling up on its owner's lap.
I just froze.
I could hear Sev snoring in the corner.
I stared at the Hex-Bug, just quietly sitting on the back of my hand, and a weird thought popped into my head.
Is this thing trying to act cute with me?