Chapter 60
Arico had only been to Penntu patch once before, that he could remember. There was his childhood visit as well, but that was nothing but a blur after all this time. Like most inner city patches it was almost entirely buildings, most of which had collapsed with age since the Threading. The Library structure itself was one of the oldest in the whole city, having been repaired and maintained periodically. It had been old even before the Threading: one of the few buildings the ancient Vasiri hadn’t reinforced with their rituals. Why not had been a topic of great controversy among the clerics who worked inside.
The Library was three stories tall, with north and south wings and a reinforced basement. Arico saw at least two dozen guards on the outside, and more inside. It seemed that despite the losses the Ascendants had suffered, their new commander was keen on keeping this place well-guarded.
Berilo just waved the guards aside. None of them questioned him, despite gaping at his choice of companion. Arico’s face was well known by now, even though his ‘hands’ were still gloved. The last time he’d been here during the Laentana, Arico and Sabra had fought their way onto the second floor. They had located and removed Jaas’ belongings, and then ran before reinforcements could arrive. This time though, he and Berilo went downstairs.
At the bottom of the stairs was an ornate stone-and-metal door. A mural of sorts had been carved into its surface, depicting the clerics standing in a line, holding that position. In front of them was pure darkness, or as dark as paint on stone could get, and behind them was the Library itself outlined in shining white paint. It was meant to symbolize their desire to preserve this ‘pure’ knowledge, during the chaos and darkness following the Threading.
Arico felt his lip twist in contempt. As if any of that had happened. In truth, the entire city had been in chaos after the Threading. This Library had only been discovered and restored years later, by the first Council. Revisionist history at its finest.
Berilo loosened his tunic and pulled out a chain from around his neck. The chain was very thin and fine; Arico hadn’t even known it was there. The Lord Ascendant took hold of the small key at the end of the chain, and carefully fitted it in the door’s tiny lock. With a resounding click the door unlatched, and he began pushing it open. “Help me,” he instructed, and Arico reluctantly put his shoulder against the door and pushed as well.
They slowly inched the double doors inward, until the gap was wide enough for a person, before Berilo stopped and wiped at his brow. He held up the key. “There are only two keys like this in the whole city,” he said, looking upstairs briefly. “One for the Lord Ascendant, and the other for the Chronicler here in Penntu patch. I always keep mine around my neck or within arm’s reach. It’s never been copied.”
Arico had heard tales of the Chronicler—the rumored head of the clerics who worked in this patch. The clerics were fiercely independent, resisting many attempts by people from other patches to take control of the Library. They had repeatedly threatened to destroy all the documents stored here rather than let them be taken away, and because the knowledge here was literally one-of-a-kind, in time the Council had agreed to leave them be. Eventually the clerics had chosen a Chronicler from among their own number, much like the initiates had done with the Clarion, and then established a stable arrangement with the Council.
This had been years ago, though. They’d probably lost and replaced Chroniclers dozens of times by now. Arico had no idea what the current brand was like. The door they’d just opened was heavy and reinforced. It had obviously been built with a siege in mind. Their last line of defense, perhaps? Briefly, Arico wished Jaas was here to see this. She’d always been curious about what was hidden away inside Penntu patch.
After a moment Berilo caught his breath and headed inside, down more steps. Arico glumly followed. From below, flickering candlelight filtered up towards them. Arico was reminded of the Hideaway, as the stairs opened up into a wide space, probably twenty or thirty spans below the ground level of the Library.
Lining the walls of the square room were shelves filled with books. Arico licked his lips as he looked over the sheer number. Books were rare and valuable. The Hauld’s personal collection had been among the finest in the city, before it had burned along with everything else. Even with the stamp device the old dwarf had used to copy leaflets and spread the written word, it would have taken years to make copies. This room’s contents were… priceless!
Of course there were many more books on the upstairs levels, guarded and patrolled by the clerics and the Ascendants. These must be of special significance if only the Chronicler and the Lord Ascendant had access.
Speaking of whom, a figure rose from a table in the middle of the room. Candles had been set up around a large stack of parchments, but carefully spaced as to avoid burning any of them. As they moved towards each other, a dark-haired woman, perhaps thirty years of age with piercing green eyes, raised a hand towards them.
“My liege,” she said, obviously startled. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” Her eyes tracked over Arico, and narrowed slightly. “Nor did I expect you would so brazenly violate our agreement.” Her voice thickened with anger. “As you are well aware, my liege, this room is restricted to-”
“Yes I know,” Berilo cut her off with a raised hand, “but in this case you’ll have to make an exception. Just as Ja’unna made for Barik, eighty-eight years ago.”
Arico held his breath. He wasn’t concerned for his own safety, so much as for the books. Whatever gambit Berilo was playing at, he was taking a terrible risk. If this woman was the Chronicler, she was more than capable of torching this entire room if she felt the Library’s sanctity had been violated. So many wondrous stories in these books would all go up in smoke.
Come to think of it, he had heard one of those names before. He’d never heard of this Ja’unna, but there had been a Barik Grover, who had been Lord Ascendant back during that time. Ja’unna must have been the Chronicler at the same time. Whatever arrangement had been made could only have been made between those two.
“I assure you, Yashra,” Berilo said soothingly, as she glared at both him and Arico, “this is a similar situation. You can share anything in here with Arico without concern.” He looked to his side, and Arico felt his stomach twist as he recognized pride in the old man’s face. “He’s trustworthy.” With effort, Arico kept his face passive. It didn’t matter what he felt, or how badly he wanted to kill Berilo. It wasn’t time yet, and there were a lot of lives at stake. He bowed slightly in recognition of the compliment.
“Let us both pray you are correct, my liege,” Yashra finally responded, and even Berilo showed signs of relief. “If not, you know there will be penalties for all the Sustained.” With one final look at Arico, she curtsied slightly and then gathered up her scrolls. She then gracefully slipped through the door, and with surprising ease, pulled it closed. They were alone again.
Arico was curious about this arrangement Berilo had apparently just made, but first, he felt some concern about this room’s ventilation. Having lived and trained in the Fishbowl, he was understandably more aware of this than Berilo would be. They were underground in a sealed stone chamber, with six burning candles. Still, it made little sense to be worried. Yashra had apparently been in here for hours before they arrived. Most likely there were cracks in the stone walls, or in the passageway that had led them there, allowing air down in here. Shaking his head, Arico began examining some of the book titles in the shifting candlelight. He deliberately didn’t wait for permission to do so.
Berilo smirked. “Feel free to look around, of course,” he said condescendingly. “You’ll find a lot of very interesting things down here, especially concerning our history.” He stepped over to the far wall and removed one tome, opening it and placing it on the table. Upstairs, books were chained to the wall for fear of theft. Even the Hauld had done similarly, with his own collection. It seemed such precautions were unnecessary down here.
The old man wasn’t kidding. It looked like there were historic records here covering every Lord Ascendant, going all the way back to the first Council! There were even records covering the Threading itself, and the months of darkness between the Threading and when the threads first became transparent to light from the Outside.
There was also a map of four adjacent patches, affixed to the wall next to one of the bookshelves. One of the patches was covered with a multi-colored wreck: the remains of the Crystal Palace. At the bottom of the map were a series of symbols Arico didn’t recognize, and there was a small red ‘x’ on a portion of the patch, near the south end of the Palace.
He peered at the symbols for a few moments. “Is that the Vault?”
“Oh, so you know about that, do you?” Berilo moved around the table to look at the map with him. “Yes, that’s where it was buried during the Threading. I tried to open it myself when I was younger, but nothing came of it. No one’s visited the site in years.”
The Vault. Rumor held that the ancient Vasiri emperors had stored the wealth of a thousand campaigns in there, sealed away safely underneath their palace. It had survived the collapse of the Palace, but no one had been able to get in since then. Fortunately it seemed even Berilo had been stymied by whatever protections had been put in place around it. Arico had toyed with the idea of threading his way in, once he’d learned how to pull on the threads, but the Vasiri were famous for rigging their most valued treasures to be destroyed if they were plundered. Arico might be able to force his way into the Vault, but nothing inside would survive the process.
Moving on, Arico pulled one of those books with difficulty and opened it, but was unable to turn the pages. Suddenly he was back there in the Hideaway with Jaas for the first time, explaining what had happened in those early, and very literally dark, days. Everything he’d told her had been based on the official histories he’d been taught as a child. But these books: they were the source of those histories! Everything the people of Patchwork knew: it was all based here, in this room.
Everything they knew—or had been lied to about. “Tell me, father,” Arico said as it occurred to him, “did you know about wells before I did? Is it written in this room how the Council and the Lords Ascendant before you conspired to hide the truth about the Waters from their own people? I know it wasn’t you personally: the conspiracy goes back much longer than you’ve been alive. Did you know about it, though?”
Berilo shook his head. “No, that was a surprise to me as well. I had no idea that if you dig down far enough you can meet the Waters. I suspect that it was your friend the Harbinger who told you: she is from the Outside, after all. After I found out about these wells of yours, I came here and read through all the histories concerning control over the stra’tchi. Most likely it was the Second or Third Council who started the plan, because it was they who first started the conflict with the dwarves, but I can’t be sure. Whoever did it must have been very careful to keep it out of any written records. They wanted to make sure that even the subsequent Councilors and Lords Ascendant would have no idea that the Waters could be gathered in any other way.”
Arico believed him immediately. Not because of the ta’sana, but because of what the Council had done after the news had spread about wells. Which was nothing, really. If the Council had known the truth, they would have already had a plan in place to discredit any stories like that.
“You’ll have ample time to read every one of these books, Arico,” the old man said curtly, changing the subject, “but this is the one I brought you to see.”
He beckoned, and curiosity more than anything else compelled Arico over to look at it. The page it was open to looked like census records. How many children had been born in each patch, where they’d been sent, the test results for each one, that sort of thing. Pretty dry stuff, comparatively.
Before he could ask though, Berilo was already explaining. “You were right, what you said earlier about the people I’ve killed, or had killed. Cartwright was a special case, and not just because he survived. Still, he was by far not the first nor the last. As you correctly accused, I do have oceans of blood staining my hands. What you clearly don’t know, or at least not completely, is why.”
“What other reason could a man like you have?” Arico asked sourly. “Power, of course.”
Berilo stopped for a moment, and closed his eyes, When he took a deep breath and looked over at Arico again, he looked… sad.
It was the first time Arico had ever seen Berilo Fisher show any sorrow or remorse, and it was jarring. It was like seeing an armored warrior suddenly bereft of his breastplate and open to attack.
“Do you think I enjoy killing, Arico?” He asked wearily. “That I like making people suffer? It was the Council that insisted on poisoning Tellek patch, you know. They felt it was the best way to scare the stra’tchi into line, and to discredit your movement at the same time. I agreed only reluctantly, but I did agree, and that makes me responsible as well.” Berilo sighed, his eyes lost in the past. “When I saw some of those bodies twisted in pain though, with blood staining their nostrils and mouths and ears, I immediately regretted what we’d done. I ordered the Council to destroy the remaining nethrit plants, so it could never happen again.”
“Did you, now?” Arico sneered, raising his stumps. “You did a really first-rate job.”
“I know,” Berilo admitted. “I don’t have the proof yet—my people are still investigating—but I suspect it was Lord Tanner who defied my orders and began planting nethrit in mass amounts. Ever since the Laentana he’s been increasingly afraid of a full-scale stra’tchi uprising, and I don’t doubt he’d do whatever it takes to keep that from happening. He’s like your former friend Ta’anu, actually—willing to wipe out huge portions of the city so that he could rule whatever was left.”
“Ta’anu’s actions were inexcusable, and that’s why I stopped him.” Arico said evenly. “You should have done the same, even risking your life like I did, to stop Tanner, or whoever it was growing that plant.”
“You’re right,” Berilo said just as evenly. “I failed, and you lost your hands because of me. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my days.” That left an awkward pause between them for a few moments.
“What about the Beast attacks, then?” Arico said, trying to keep up the verbal assault. “Are you going to tell me that was the Council’s idea too, and that you were opposed?”
“No, I fully supported that idea. I also gave the Beasts strict orders to frighten and injure only. They were to avoid taking lives or causing permanent harm at all costs. They were only meant to scare people, nothing more.”
“People still died,” Arico said stubbornly. “That’s on you as well.”
“Violence is rarely a precision instrument, Arico!” Berilo said severely. It seemed like the conversation was finally starting to strain the old man’s patience. Arico wasn’t sure what he hoped to gain by pushing Berilo like this, but it did feel good.
“But you know that already, don’t you?” Berilo continued, his voice still a little raw. “Tell me, when you and your giant friend invaded Sevvas patch to steal my sparkpowder, did you plan to kill that guard? I saw his body after you left. His head was cracked open like an egg, and his brains had been splattered all over the wall!”
Arico grimaced. That hadn’t been him, though. That had been-
“I doubt you did that,” Berilo went on, seemingly reading his mind. “It would take giant strength to do something that extreme. Regardless, that guard might still be alive if you hadn’t conducted your little raid. His death is on you, isn’t it? And what about the men you killed during the Ascendants’ attack on the Enclave?”
Berilo stopped abruptly at that, and gave a grimace. “I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that; I’m sorry. You clearly want to keep it a secret. At least no one else was around to hear.”
“The men I killed?” Arico echoed carefully, trying to sound puzzled. He raised his stumps again. “Are you sure about that? I’m not exactly in top fighting form here. How could I have killed even one of your soldiers like this?”
“You can drop the pretense, Arico,” Berlio went on dismissively. “One of my men witnessed the whole ordeal from the threads. He even saw you come back after the fact, to dispose of the evidence. A smart move on your part—I doubt even I could have kept this a secret if you hadn’t gotten rid of those bodies in a timely manner. No, I know exactly what you did. How you did it is another story entirely. I look forward to hearing that story, whenever you’re ready to tell it.”
Arico felt a little sick. He’d hoped to keep his abilities—and his crimes—hidden away at least for now, but that had never even been a possibility, had it? “How… many people know by now?” He asked faintly. If they knew what he could do, they certainly wouldn’t let him anywhere near the Spire or the Council. His surrender would have been for nothing!
Berilo put his hands on Arico’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, son. I made sure that your secret would stay just between us. No one on the Council knows, and I intend to keep it that way, at least until you say otherwise. If word gets out about your impressive ability, there’s no telling how people might react. If they felt that you or your sister, who obviously is the same as you, were any kind of threat, they might try to have you killed. Violence, as I said before, is rarely precise.”
“What about the kids who’ve been murdered, though?” Arico said as he shrugged off the old man’s arms, still feeling dismayed at just how much Berilo knew about him. “You can’t possibly defend that. Nor can the Council.”
“Ah, now at last we come to it,” Berilo said, his voice now fully back in control. “I’m the vicious monster, right? I’m the child-killer who could have easily let those kids live, relocated safely to Sustained territory. They would have been well cared for, yes? As navigators they would have had every luxury, every chance to learn. Except for one small detail: none of them were navigators.”
“What are you talking about?” Arico asked suspiciously. Endu’s story about her daughter rang through his ears again. “Of course they were navigators. That’s the only reason you and the Council would have any interest in them in the first place!”
Berilo shook his head. “No, Arico. My crime is far worse than you know. Navigator children are rare among the stra’tchi. It’s pretty much been bred out of them by now, but still, perhaps one in a thousand is born a navigator? Fewer than that? You think I’ve ordered the deaths of a few dozen children perhaps, but over the course of the last forty years or so the true number is actually in the thousands. I did so because those children were a threat, but not to the Sustained or to the Council or to me. No, they were a threat to the stra’tchi themselves!”
“What are you saying?” Arico said reflexively, a horrible suspicion rising in his gut. He couldn’t possibly mean-
“Those deaths were population control, nothing more,” Berilo bit out, much as Arico would have given unpleasant news. “We had to keep the stra’tchi patches from becoming overcrowded, or they would have all starved to death by now!”
On instinct, Arico shook his head. “No. That’s ridiculous. There hasn’t been a population problem for centuries. Not since one of your precious ancient Councils started moving kids around in the first place. The Ritual of Rejoining was meant specifically-”
“The Rejoining doesn’t work, Arico!” Berilo cut him off dismissively. “It never did! There,” he jabbed a finger at the book he’d laid out on the table. “Read it for yourself. It’s all in there, written in their own words!”
Slowly, almost unwillingly, Arico turned his gaze to the book below. A book which perhaps, could take the most fundamental truth Arico had known for his entire life and turn it on its head.
-.-
Hours later, Arico leaned back with a sigh. “That’s enough,” he instructed the servant who’d been turning the pages for him. “You can go.” The servant—one Berilo had chosen specifically because he couldn’t read—bowed and scurried off quietly, leaving Arico all alone with his thoughts. As usual, Chulesh stood silently outside.
He was back in Sevvas patch, in the guest quarters of the Lord Ascendant’s manor. Ordinarily that thought would have been unsettling enough, but with all the news he’d been processing over the past few days, it barely even registered. Facing the truth about the Hauld had been difficult enough, but this?
Berilo had allowed him to bring a few books back with them, as long as he kept them in this room at all times. It seemed he had been telling the truth. The Ritual of Rejoining was a meaningless exercise.
Arico had gone over the statistics again and again, trying to find a flaw in the ancient clerics’ recordkeeping, but there hadn’t been any to find. Arico had even considered that the books may be some kind of forgery, but there was no way the clerics in Penntu patch would have gone along with that. They were genuine, all right.
When the Rejoining had been instituted, birth rates across all stra’tchi patches hadn’t changed at all! Moving children around from patch to patch may have stopped any inbreeding, and it may have protected the patches from disease at least in the distant past, but it had no effect at all on overpopulation. All those people had been giving up their children for centuries, for no reason at all!
He had to tell them.
With the ta’sana oath tying his hands—metaphorically—Arico’s credibility would be marginal at best. He could wait for the Twin Suns, when he’d be free again. No, that wouldn’t work. By then his best chance to wipe out the Council would be gone, and he’d have to wait months or even a full year for another shot at it.
Perhaps the Clarion could help. If Arico could arrange a meeting, he could tell the Clarion everything, and he might just believe it. Berilo had forbidden him from showing these books to anyone, but he’d foolishly forgotten to tell Arico to keep his mouth shut.
There were so many implications to this, though! It was almost as world-shattering as the truth about the wells had been. It had been over two hundred years since the ancient Council had learned that the Rejoining was useless. The Sustained had been involved in Tumult after Tumult against each other for all that time, because they had enough navigators to access each others’ patches. They had no need for any population control because they killed each other regularly. The stra’tchi had no such access, though.
Arico did some calculations in his head. Nearly three quarters of the humans in the city were stra’tchi. So about sixty thousand of them having children, over the forty-plus years Berilo had been Lord Ascendant… that meant thousands of children had met their end during his reign—perhaps tens of thousands! It was unthinkable. And yet…
Arico could remember talking to Jaas about this, what seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d told her about what the ancient Vasiri survivors had done after the Threading. How they’d slaughtered hundreds of thousands of people to keep them from starving. He’d also described his own experiences with starvation, and how devastating it could be, especially to a child. What was a quick death at the end of a sword compared to that kind of suffering?
Ta’anu must have known about this as well, Arico realized. He had a son, back in his home patch, and no doubt would have done anything and everything to protect him. Berilo and the Council certainly had no compunction slaughtering children for ‘the well-being of all stra’tchi’. It was no surprise, really. Arico doubted any of them had ever even met a real stra’tchi for themselves. It would be easy for them to separate themselves from the consequences of their actions.
Could he do the same, though? According to the books, the people had chosen the Ritual of Rejoining. They’d been told that there wasn’t enough farmland to feed everyone if they continued to breed at their current rate. Several options had been presented, and the Rejoining had been the only one they could stomach. Certainly they wouldn’t have done it if they’d known the end result, though. No, they had to be told the truth.
His mind made up, Arico rose and went over to the door. He tapped on the door with his wooden hand and Chulesh opened it. “Yes, sir?”
A bit taken aback with how quickly the man had responded, Arico gestured him to come inside. “Listen, I want you to go get the Clarion and bring him here. Tell him I have information even more profound than the last little tidbit I gave him.” That should get his attention at least. The last time, the Clarion had been able to investigate and eventually execute a man. For killing children, ironically enough given the Council’s crimes.
The servant shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry sir, but the Lord Ascendant gave strict instructions. You are permitted to speak to no one save him or myself. No exceptions.”
Arico let out a frustrated sigh. So much for Berilo making a foolish mistake. He’d just given the order to other people, that was all. “Very well. Take me to the Lord Ascendant, then. He said he had more to tell me when I was ready, and I am now.”
In truth, he wasn’t really sure that he was ready. However the more he could engage with the old man, the more likely it was he’d be able to get the truth out there. After all, there was plenty of politicking and intrigue in this patch. Perhaps someone would even sneak into his room while he was away and read the book—though he supposed he shouldn’t count on being that lucky.
Strangely, Arico found himself wishing he could talk to Hazra as well. Not only did he want to spend more time with his sister, but he could use her insights as well. Berilo had proven to be more complicated than Arico had first assumed, and Hazra had been raised by him. Perhaps she could clarify things for Arico, if he got the chance to see her.
“Wait,” he said suddenly, and Chulesh came to a stop.
Arico eyed the dagger on the servant’s belt. Perhaps now was a good time to test Chulesh’s skills and dedication. The nearby window was open, and the nearest threads were to the south, just through it. They were still in his room in the manor, and Arico pulled the door closed so no one else could see.
“All Fisher servants are trained in combat, correct?” Chulesh nodded. “Then draw that dagger of yours and show me some of the forms you use.”
The young man nodded again, and gingerly unstrapped his dagger. For the next few minutes he jabbed and twisted, moving fluidly but confidently. He knew a great many forms, some of which were similar to the dwarven styles more familiar to Arico. It wasn’t a full demonstration of course, as he had no one to fight, but what he could show was impressive.
Arico shook his head though, trying to look disappointed. “That’s enough,” he said grimly, and Chulesh came to a stop.
“You’re of no use to me,” he went on, putting an edge in his tone, “and you know too much to be sent back. I want you to take that dagger… and stab it into your heart.”
He had expected some hesitation, or even resistance, but he got neither. Chulesh carefully positioned the dagger, and then pulled it hard against himself.
Fortunately Arico was ready. He had already taken ahold of the threads while giving the order, so he was able to thread the blade as Chulesh pulled on it. Only the hilt thudded against his chest. Even so, it was a near thing. Arico had to release the threads just as Chulesh was done stabbing, for fear of destroying his hands as well.
Arico was unnerved. Reading about blind loyalty was one thing, but observing it? Ordering a man to kill himself and watching him immediately try to do it? This was… surreal!
Chulesh looked at the dagger curiously, and his breathing had noticeably sped up. He lifted what was left of it and looked back at Arico. “A test?” He asked raggedly. Now that Berilo had discovered what Arico could do, he felt more free to use his abilities around others. This had been the perfect opportunity to see just how far Chulesh would go to follow an order.
Arico nodded. “One which you passed with flying colors.” He waited a bit. “Forgive me—I’m not used to seeing such loyalty up close. It’ll take me some time to get used to it.”
It was also the kind of test only a non-navigator could take. If he’d tried it on a navigator, the threads wouldn’t have harmed the blade, and the navigator would be a corpse by now. “Do you have any further tests, or questions, or objections for me, sir?” Chulesh asked wryly, as he hefted what was left of the dagger from one hand to another.
Arcio smiled. “No, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent bodyguard and manservant. I do have a request, though. I don’t just want someone who can dress me and protect me. I also want an advisor: someone familiar with how House Fisher does things. I doubt I can get a straight answer from the Lord Ascendant, but I expect one from you. Don’t hesitate to speak up if you need to say something… though you may want to wait until we’re in private, depending on where we are later on. Understood?”
Chulesh straightened up, and gave him that same confident-yet-detached look that seemed to be his trademark. “Yes sir.” As he followed Chulesh out of the room, Arico felt a little less downtrodden. He may be doomed to die in a day or so, but at least he knew there was one good man who would survive.
