The bottom was metallic but thick with muck.

  Filth.

  He closed his eyes and held his breath.

  Was this it? The rest of his days? A naked man without dignity. Abandoned. Forgotten. Filth standing in filth.

  I don’t deserve this.

  A voice answered.

  “Don’t you, though?”

  Ryllen opened his eyes. The water burned.

  What?

  “You betrayed everyone. Hokkaido will burn because of you.”

  He didn’t recognize the voice. Male? Female?

  I’m going insane.

  “Going? No. You gave up sanity when you kissed me goodbye.”

  Kai?

  His lungs burned. Ryllen pushed off and exploded through the surface, gasping for breath.

  “Stop your theatrics, Friend. Resume your position. You have two more hours.”

  He relied on instinct.

  “No. I can’t.”

  The Scroll leaned forward.

  “You will if you wish to eat, Friend.”

  “My body is breaking down, Scroll. I’m losing my mind.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “The pain … it’s more than I can handle.”

  “Will you beg me so soon, Friend?”

  He was ready. The words pressed against his lips. Please. Yet Ryllen said nothing. The Scroll offered one more comment before sitting silent to the end of the lesson:

  “Think of your pain as the collective suffering of everyone you murdered, Friend. Extend that pain to everyone who grieved the loss of those you murdered. It will not come close to what follows.”

  The Scroll wiped his dome with a wet rag and resumed his own silent, sculptured stance.

  Ryllen couldn’t explain what happened next.

  How he stayed afloat. How he never submerged again. How he cried like a baby but shed no tears.

  In the final moments before the Scroll called time, Ryllen tread with eyes closed and relived, with clarity, the last night in the life of his first love, Kai Durin.

  He saw them in their Pinchon flat, Ryllen’s home since Kai rescued him off the streets. They cooked dinner together: Squid stewed in sweet cabbage and hot peppers. Oh, for all the rings – the aroma! They downed it with a new bottle of sanque. Afterward, they brushed their teeth – Kai was a fanatic about clean teeth. Then they retreated to their bed and pumped each other with a ferocity that came from a diet of squid and sanque.

  Ryllen had almost forgotten how beautiful a man Kai was. Barely a man, but also an artist, a chef, a master assassin, a Hokki patriot. When the fun ended, Kai erupted with a new kind of intensity, a focus on the cause. And tonight would be their biggest kill yet.

  Twelve immos arriving at Ronin Swallows. Smuggled in by collaborators working against The Lagos. Assholes who would be slaughtered alongside their cargo.

  Ryllen was there now. Ronin Swallows. A tidal cave along the west coast. Cold, dark, low ceilings. A perfect port of entry. They retrieved glow lights and found their spots inside the cave. Ryllen looked back at Kai, who chose green hair for tonight. It was a perfect choice. The color of the sun tattooed on his chest.

  They waited for the ambush. The tide rose. The boats approached. Kai gave the order. All ten Green Sun rose at once and aimed. The boats erupted in automatic fire. The cave lit up.

  There were no immos. Only dead Green Sun.

  Ryllen jerked as he was hit again and again.

  His revival was impossible. The man who oversaw the ambush was there. Shin Wain shot Ryllen in the head. Dead again.

  The second revival came after the living departed. Ryllen saw the shredded bodies of his compatriots. Stumbled across the slick rocks, sprayed by the crashing waves of high tide.

  There. Kai. Blood and hair in his face. Left to rot like trash.

  He said farewell with a kiss and left with a message:

  You were right, Kai. A man has to stand for something.

  He ran into the night. He …

  “Time,” the Scroll announced. “Today’s lesson has ended.”

  For a flicker, Ryllen didn’t know where he was.

  I was there. I was in Pinchon.

  “You will be fed,” the Scroll said. “My apprentice will arrive soon with food and water. I recommend you consume both at a moderate pace. Make them last. Hmm?”

  Ryllen pushed his withered body to the rack and tried to climb. Six inches felt like six meters. At last, he flung his legs onto the rack and scraped his knees against the ceiling.

  The Scroll took his time preparing to exit. He raised himself off the stool with considerable care, the groans forming a short song.

  “Tomorrow, we begin,” he said. “The pain you experienced today will not compare to what lies ahead.”

  The words made no sense. What worse punishment could he inflict? Ryllen imagined the Scroll showing up with a pistol and shooting his prisoner in the head, watching the body float then regenerate moments later. And again, for amusement.

  Ryllen preferred repeated trips into the abyss over today’s madness.

  “You didn’t break me, Scroll.”

  “No. That is a task I leave to you, Friend. It is also a necessity, should you ever wish to leave here. Tomorrow, you will be dug out from the roots. Enjoy your last pleasant night for a long time to come.”

  The fat man took his basket and disappeared.

  Ryllen was too exhausted to rage.

  He needed to eat and drink.

  He felt Kai Durin everywhere.

  12

  S OMEONE CRIED OUT, but Ryllen was too exhausted to pay this person any mind. His body was stiff, his legs all but useless. Can’t I sleep in peace? The screamer persisted. It was a woman. What do you want? Haven’t I lost enough?

  “You there! You there!” She shouted. “Listen, you. I have your food.” Then she followed with the trigger word. “Friend.”

  He opened his eyes and looked around. The light was dim, but the day had not turned to night. Ryllen craned his neck to see beyond the overhang.

  The girl was bathed in the fading glow of sunset. She cut a modest figure: Her dress was a white, loose-fitting fabric which hung like a sack. A red scarf covered her head. Though she lorded high above him, she was puny.

  “I have your food and water,” she said. “I will lower it.”

  She walked along the perimeter until she disappeared. The ceiling above Ryllen creaked under her footsteps. Seconds later, a mesh basket descended on a rope. It stopped at rack level.

  “Grab,” she said. “Open the latch and take your meal.”

  He pulled the basket inward and fumbled with the latch, which did not release. He saw food on a wooden plate, recognized nothing, but drooled as he calmed his nerves and tried again. This time, he succeeded. The door flung open. He handled the plate with care, making sure to lose nothing in the pond. He grabbed the bottle of clear liquid and let go of the basket.

  He slid back against the retaining wall and turned on his side. The plate was full of colors. Fruit, vegetables – tubers, mostly – in orange, red, and pale yellow. On one side, a gray mash. Sprinkled among it all: Tiny green seeds.

  Ryllen didn’t care. He went for the juiciest fruit first.

  “You eat slow,” the girl said. “This is for all day. Seeds are from ganto nuts. They will settle your stomach. Drink half the water now. Save the rest for later.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

  The tubers were soft and sweet, the mash which he scooped with his fingers was bland but edible, and the seeds added a peppery edge to everything. He savored each bite and allowed his tongue to dance with the food. The water was clean and tasteless – he’d have it no other way – but best of all, it was chilled. He did not see that coming. When he was done, Ryllen licked the plate clean.

  He never felt more indebted to another human being.

  When he looked out, he saw the girl on the far side of the pond, a glow lamp in hand.

  “Thank you. What is your name?”

  “I am Sela. I am the Scroll’s apprentice, Friend.”

  “Sela, do you have more food?”

  “No. The Scroll determined the portions. I prepared and delivered. I was tasked to remain until you finished. Are you finished?”

  He didn’t know how to answer. If he said yes, she might leave at once. Perhaps that’s what she wanted. What might she think of a pathetic, naked man living in this putrid hole?

  “Can I ask you a question, Sela?”

  “Then you must tell me if you are finished with your meal.”

  “If you are the Scroll’s apprentice, does this mean you want to become a Scroll yourself?”

  “I am here because I must be. Are you finished?”

  “Yes. Will you come tomorrow?”

  “If the Scroll says you have earned another meal. Follow his instructions, and you will be able to eat again. Do not be a fool. I have seen fools in these ponds. They do not last long.”

  She spoke with a rough-hewn, halting accent, not too far removed from the Scroll’s. Ryllen never heard anything like it on Hokkaido. Was this the style of native Huryans?

  Sela started away, but Ryllen called out.

  “Do you want my plate?”

  “Tomorrow. If you are good.”

  He heard nothing the rest of the night beyond the screaming daffer frogs of the marshes. Before he laid back and allowed the first peaceful sleep in days to overtake him, Ryllen thought long about the girl. He replayed her words, especially the answer to his question about her apprenticeship.

  “I am here because I must be,” he repeated Sela. “Not because she wants to be.”

  That’s as far as his machinations took him. For the first time, he slept in relative comfort on the lattice rack until sunrise.

  He reached for the bottled water and realized he was not alone. The Scroll was setting up across the pond. Ryllen knew what was expected: slip into the pond before the first command.

  No. He was going to enjoy a few sips of his water, saving the last quarter of the bottle for later. You’ll have to say the words, asshole.

  Seconds after the series of grunts and moans ended with the Scroll’s successful planting upon the stool, the command came.

  “Into the water, Friend.”

  Ryllen complied, but he laid out his plan for resistance if the Scroll demanded he tread all day without hands. This will work, he thought. I have food in my stomach. I have water. I can make it another two days without either if I have to.

  “Time to begin,” the Scroll said. “To the center. Arms extended.”

  To Ryllen’s dismay, his hands worked against him. They released him from the rack. His legs pushed him toward the center. He assumed the position. The words of resistance gathered in his throat, but he choked on them.

  “You wish to ask how long,” the Scroll said. “If you are good? Six hours. If not, we might be here until sunset, Friend. I brought snacks for myself in case. Remember, you have the option to submerge as needed. Now, to begin. A simple answer, please. Did my apprentice fulfill her duties to your satisfaction?”

  “Yes, Scroll. Thank you for the food and water.”

  Ryllen was fired up, ready to fight again, yet the words fell off his lips with a submissive tone. He was ashamed.

  “You are welcome, Friend. Now, for perspective. We have many forms of justice on Huryo. They rely on a singular philosophy. We believe in a sinner’s reformation. We believe the most cruel among us can be redeemed and redelivered to civilization. We do not believe in the traditional internment systems of the many worlds. We invented the Art of the Scroll. We built ponds like these by the hundreds across the many swamps. They are both deterrents and symbols.

  “As Scroll, I prosecute, judge, and when necessary, execute. I am tasked with annihilating the man who lives in my pond. I oversee the arrival of a new human who will better serve civilization. Hmm? What thoughts come to mind, Friend?”

  He hesitated. No questions.

  “Men die in the ponds,” Ryllen said. “They don’t deserve to die here. You’ve done this a long time, Scroll. You’ve left men behind to die.”

  “Yes, Friend. Men sometimes die, but I remain to their final breaths. If they choose to die, I choose not to save them. And all who die in these ponds do so by choice.”

  “You starve them and work their bodies until they’re broken, Scroll. Death is their only escape.”

  A long groan preceded a familiar refrain.

  “Um, ho, dah. The old saw about death as an escape. No, Friend. The only way filth like you die in a pond is when you refuse to allow yourself to be annihilated and reconstructed. I can break your spirit and wither your muscles, but I cannot recreate you. Only you, Friend, may do this. We begin now with an exercise in repetition. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Scroll.”

  “Good. Repeat after me, and do not hesitate.”

  The Scroll leaned forward and ran a wet rag over his dome.

  “I am a murderer,” he said.

  No. Don’t let him do this to you. Fight back. Resist.

  Scroll said the words again and waited. Ryllen kicked hard.

  “I am a murderer, Scroll.”

  “To be clear: Repeat what I say. Add nothing. Again, Friend.”

  “I am a murderer.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I take pleasure in killing human beings.”

  No. Don’t you say it.

  “I take pleasure in killing human beings.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I enjoy the sight of their blood.”

  Don’t. You can’t let him …

  “I enjoy the sight of their blood.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I do not hesitate to kill children.”

  What? No, I …

  “I do not hesitate to kill children.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I dream of new ways to slaughter human beings.”

  Wait. I …

  “I dream of new ways to slaughter human beings.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I am a mass murderer of the innocent.”

  “I am a mass murderer of the innocent.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I deserve to die for my crimes.”

  “I deserve to die for my crimes.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I wish to kill humans as long as I live.”

  “I wish to kill humans as long as I live.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “I am filth.”

  “I am filth.”

  Scroll nodded.

  “We will repeat these mantras until you know them by heart. You will then recite them on your own for two hours. Each morning when I return, you will recite these mantras ten times.”

  The process began. The words became easier to say. The repetition developed a sort of rhythm. In time, Ryllen locked in on the sequence. With his legs kicking, his arms extended and his shoulders aching, he uttered the words to monotone perfection:

  “I am a murderer. I take pleasure in killing human beings. I enjoy the sight of blood. I do not hesitate to kill children. I dream of new ways to slaughter human beings. I am a mass murderer of the innocent. I deserve to die for my crimes. I wish to kill humans as long as I live. I am filth.”

  As he said the words, Ryllen did not let go of other mantras, which he kept buried:

  I know how to love. I am a good soldier. I will save Hokkaido. I do not deserve this.

  At the end of two hours, the Scroll raised his hand and signaled satisfaction. He finished a snack, spilling crumbs over the edge. They sprinkled the water in front of Ryllen.

  “You know the words, Friend. In time, you will understand them. You will even come to acknowledge their inherent truth. If you fail to do so, I will have no power to save you. Hmm? Onward. Let us begin.”

  He withdrew a single sheet of paper from the basket and sighed.

  “I have annihilated many, but you present a unique challenge. You have killed in such abundance, the value of human life escaped you many years ago. I have encountered less vicious men, guilty of moderate crimes in small numbers, who speak of human beings as animals worthy of discard. You put their ideas into practice with great success.”

  “That’s not true, Scroll. I fought in a war for six years against a superior enemy. I protected my unit and sacrificed for them. I killed many people. Yes. But they were the enemy. They were …”

  “All of them, Friend? Do you claim never to have killed a non-combatant?

  Ryllen paused. “No. Some of them weren’t enemy, but …”

  “Stop, Friend. You will have time to explain later. We will now begin the heart of your lessons. We will begin the Scroll of Sins. To start, I need you to answer a simple question. Why are you here?”

  “I was betrayed, Scroll.”

  “Victims are betrayed. You are no victim, Friend. Again: Why are you here?”

  He has the sheet. He already knows.

  “I turned on my crew. I threatened to destroy our ship. It was a temporary madness, Scroll. I lost the man I loved and …”

  The fat man wagged a finger.

  “That was your most recent offense. I asked why you are here.”

  “That is why, Scroll.”

  “Your offenses are consequences. The why goes deeper. The answer begins long ago. To write the Scroll of Sins, you must find the beginning. From there, you will confess in sequence.”

  “Explain, Scroll.”

  “I did, Friend. You will unlock the origin to your first sin of consequence. You will examine it as never before.”

  “You mean my life story, Scroll.”

  “No. Your biography does not interest me. Discover the moment when a door was opened and a monster was allowed inside. Then you will understand why you are here, Friend.”

  “You mean the first time I killed someone, Scroll.”

  “No. That is the first sin of consequence. Your Scroll of Sins will begin with prologue, Friend. The moment that carried you toward the first sin of consequence. When did the door open?”

  Ryllen flashed back to yesterday, the final excruciating moments while he treaded and remembered his last night with Kai.

  No. We’re not going there. I refuse.

  “I know the first time I killed a man. I was new to Green Sun. It was an execution. Why doesn’t my Scroll of Sins begin there?”