Elle ran.
She hadn’t been certain whether the police would let her out. The dark grimaces they gave her while she nervously slid out the front door of the station could have melted steel, but with a wave of Argiala’s hand, they let her be, and then she was free, nearly skipping past the marble columns and down the steps to her freedom.
Such as it was.
The Island was still run by a megalomaniac, and she was certain they wouldn’t let her leave or do anything they disapproved of. Security cameras dotted the corners of every frieze on the nouveax-Greek buildings, and Elle was under no illusions that she wasn’t being watched by a hundred eyes. But still, she was free to explore, and assuming they let her survive at all, and assuming she somehow got off the Island, she’d end up with one hell of a story to write afterward.
After all, Argiala had wanted her to speak to the populace, and that Elle could do all day. She adored the part of her job where she interviewed random normal people about whatever the Bad People were doing, and this was her chance to collect more dirt on Lakapius and Argiala — and Glasses? Whoever that was? — than she’d ever be able to sneaking around on her own — or stuck in a jail cell. The only question was where to go? Stay in town?
Elle strode to the town square, trying to seem as casual about her movements as possible. The locals eyed her as she entered. Elle was the only human here, and she stood out like a sore thumb. She was used to being able to disappear into a crowd, but there wasn’t a crowd on this Island that she wouldn’t stand out in. So instead, she owned it, walking proudly up to the fountain and letting their eyes drift over her. A few looked hostile, and a few looked nervous at her presence, but most looked simply confused as to who she was and why she was here.
There were too many people here: She’d never be able to talk to any one of them without arousing suspicion from a hundred others.
She started out of town, heading south back toward the green rolling hills she’d passed on her way in. If she hadn’t felt the eyes of a thousand cameras watching her, it might have otherwise been a pleasant stroll. The weather was warm, the sun was shining, there were bright fluffy clouds in the sky, and the landscaping around the outskirts of the town was immaculate. It was hard to tell if the locals voluntarily spent hours trimming the grass and hedges and planting all those flowers or if they tended the scenery under duress, but either way, they’d done an excellent job, and Elle didn’t dare step off the road, less out of a sense of following the rules than out of a sense that she oughtn’t damage all that hard work.
The road continued south out of town, and the people and buildings grew fewer here until it was arguably just pretty rolling countryside, with wavy green grasses that were less-kempt than the grass in the city but that held their own wild charm instead.
Her eyes widened. There, up ahead, a centaur girl, maybe twenty years old, was comfortably laying in the grass, collecting flowers. She had long brown hair tied in a ponytail, and a brown lower body to match. Unlike a lot of the centaurs Elle had seen, she was wearing clothing, a pink blouse. No-one else was around, and this far from town, she was certain that the cameras couldn’t be watching or listening too closely.
Elle walked confidently up to the centaur girl. “Hello!”
The girl blinked, looking up at her. “He — hello?” She did a double-take.
“My name is Elle.”
“Who — are you?” said the girl. “You’re not — with anyone.”
“I’m a journalist,” said Elle. “I’d like to ask you some questions, if that’s all right.”
The girl looked left and right nervously. “Well — I guess.”
“What’s your name?”
“Quille — like the pen, but with an extra ‘e,’” she said.
“Hello, Quille, pleased to meet you,” said Elle. She took a step closer. “Mind if I sit down?”
“I guess not,” said Quille, again looking nervously around, but they appeared to be alone.
“What are you looking for?” said Elle, sitting down in the grass a few feet away from her.
“Someone who’s going to arrest me for talking to you,” said Quille.
“So — you’re worried you’ll be arrested?”
Quille shrugged. “Look, I’m sure you’re nice and all, but I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“How would you get in trouble?” she said.
“I don’t want to do anything that would make anyone angry. Sometimes people do stuff that the Lord and Lady don’t like, and then they’re — ” — her voice dropped to a whisper, and she leaned in — “ — gone.” She sat back upright. “I like my life here. I like living here. So I don’t want to cause trouble.”
Elle frowned. “You like being a — horse?”
“I’m not a horse, I’m a centaur,” she insisted. “And what girl doesn’t like horses? Didn’t you own pony dolls growing up?”
“I was more into keeping diaries,” said Elle.
Quille shrugged. “Well, I liked horses a lot, but I never got to own one. I grew up poor, so everything about this place is pretty damn great as far as I’m concerned.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“About what?”
“Growing up? And how you came here?”
She shrugged again. “There’s not that much to tell. My mother was divorced, and we had nothing. She — we fought a lot. I left home when I was sixteen. Lived on the streets for a while, and then in a car. I worked cash registers, mopped floors, did what I could to make ends meet. I wasn’t drunk or high, I’ll have you know — but I had nothing, so when they came looking for people to come here, to be this, I jumped at it. You would have too.”
“So they just walked up to you on the streets one day and said, ‘Hey, come be a centaur!’ and you say, ‘Sure, that’s not crazy at all, that sounds great’?” said Elle.
Quille shook her head. “They took me to a warehouse a few miles away and showed me real centaurs,” she said. “I got to talk to them. It wasn’t fake.”
“You talked to a few centaurs, and then you just decided right then and there to join them?”
“You don’t understand where I was,” said Quille. “I told you, I had nothing. No money, no home, no job, no purpose in life. And they came to me and offered me this.” She waved at the Island around them. “You tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
“So they just gave you a new life? No strings attached?”
“Well — ” Quille paused.
Elle glanced at her.
“Look, it’s something I’d do anyway, okay?”
“What did they want?”
“I have two years left,” said Quille. “That’s plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for what?” said Elle.
Quille leaned in, her voice a harsh whisper. “Are you trying to get me to say something against them? Who sent you? I’ve been good. I’m holding up my end of the deal, okay?”
Elle shook her head. “I really don’t know, seriously. Just tell me.”
“Look, I’ve fucked like fifty centaur boys since I got here! I’m trying my hardest! Tell them I’m doing my best, and I swear it’ll happen!”
Elle leaned closer, and put her hand on Quille’s. “What will happen, Quille?”
Quille yanked her hand free. “I’m going to get this body pregnant, okay? I’m going to do what the contract said, and I’ll make it happen, somehow! I’m not going back! I’ve behaved well! I’ve been good!”
The centaur girl stomped onto her feet, shaking the grass off, and then hastily turned and started storming away.