Broken Justice: Sixteen

Forcing her sore, weary body to move, Sabit staggered after Allamu. Hampered by the ache in her joints, she reached the exit from the champions’ quarters too late. The massive door—made of iron bars as thick as Sabit’s wrist—had already been locked. Sabit pushed fruitlessly against the cold metal.
On the far side, the overseer dragged Allamu across the small, open plaza toward the Magistrate’s house of marble. It so happened that the Magistrate and his entourage were on their way to the forum for the daily inspection. In the middle of the plaza, the overseer bowed low before the Magistrate, his thick hand never leaving Allamu’s arm.
The air was still and Sabit could just barely hear the men’s words over the pounding in her head.
“I found this one in Qaansoole’s cell,” the overseer said.
“Really?” said the Magistrate. “I thought our little archer was a strict ascetic these days. She is full of surprises. Who are you? Can you fight?”
“I am called Allamu. I can fight if there be good reason,” replied the man with the patched cloak hanging from his hips. “Qaansoole was once my betrothed.”
The Magistrate laughed heartily. “She astonishes me once more! ‘Betrothed,’ indeed. You shall not fight, Allamu. We have more vital uses for you.” Turning to the overseer, the Magistrate proclaimed, “Take this man to the hostages’ dormitory. Fit him for chains and put him with Qaansoole’s other young man. We’ll see if she slips out again.”

Wayfarings of Sabit: Broken Justice is copyright (c) 2016 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: or