Chapter 25
That evening, just after the sun had set on the far hills, Jaas and Arico were preparing to head out. Durhu and Toria were both staying behind, but Sabra had insisted on coming along for security. Jaas figured he just wanted to see another patch. The three of them made their way through the dwarven tunnel, doused the torch to ensure complete darkness as usual, before entering the threads. They exited in complete darkness.
For a moment Jaas thought Arico had turned around and gone back, but then she heard the striking of a tinder twig and a torch illuminated more rock tunnels. Jaas looked behind them, seeing the threads. They’d definitely left the Enclave. But if they were out of dwarven territory, why were there dwarven tunnels here?
Sabra looked unhappy crouched down like that; he’d probably thought they were done with tunnels for now. He growled slightly as they made their way a good distance down the passage before climbing a metal ladder to the surface. A stone slab had been laid across the vertical exit to the tunnel, which Sabra moved aside with ease before climbing out. Arico followed him, and then extended a hand to help Jaas up as well. Rather than being on a hillside under the stars as she’d expected, they were actually inside a house.
It looked much like the cabin that Arico and Durhu had shared back in Tellek. There were copper pots and pans in the kitchen, and hand-sewn work clothes hanging outside through the window: clean but looking somewhat threadbare. As she took in all the details though, the bedroom door opened and a strange man approached them. Whoever he was, he smiled as he shook Arico’s hand. His eyes widened as he took a look at Sabra, who still looked uncomfortably cramped even outside the tunnels. Jaas tried to suppress a smile as she remembered her first sight of him.
“This is Gainos,” Arico introduced the apparent homeowner. “He’s a friend. Gainos, this is Jaas and Sabra.”
“I was born in the Fishbowl,” Gainos said reassuringly, as he shook their hands one by one. To his credit, he didn’t flinch when Sabra’s massive grip engulfed his own. “The Hauld had me marked and sent here when I was three so that I could live with these people and get to know them. When I was old enough to buy this house,” he looked around proudly, “the Hauld had his people start digging the tunnel you just used.”
“So that his people could come and go from this patch undetected,” Jaas finished for him, realizing that final detail. She didn’t bother to hide the admiration in her voice: it was warranted. Yes, the Hauld had orchestrated it all, but it had been Gainos here who’d made it happen. From the age of three, no less!
Jaas wondered how many more ‘sleepers’ there were out there in other patches like this one. Probably a great many, given the magnitude of the movement’s task. Gainos seemed to sense her approval. He nodded, smiling slightly, and gestured out the door. “This way, please. My house isn’t big enough for the gathering.”
He led them just across the street to what looked like an older barn. At least originally. It had apparently been refitted multiple times, to what was now some kind of theater room. Inside, a full crowd of people waited for them.
They didn’t look particularly hostile so much as curious. A few of them reached out with their hands, but Sabra gave them a malevolent glare and they backed off in a hurry. In contrast, Arico stepped out towards them with hands extended in both directions, and one of the locals approached and embraced him. Arico had told her that would be a common greeting here in Sakkas patch. Sabra hadn’t been thrilled to hear that either.
Apparently word of her status had spread as well. The crowd didn’t reach out to her, but they didn’t back away either. The word ‘harbinger’ was whispered again and again as she passed. She moved through them as resolutely as she could, trying not to look like a hunched-over bookworm.
“Aren’t these people worried the Sustained will find out we’re here? Every stra’tchi patch has a magistrate to keep an eye on everyone, don’t they?” She whispered to Arico as they moved.
Arico shook his head. “From what I’ve been told, this magistrate is known for drinking heavily. This patch has a well-known tavern, and the magistrate is there right now. He’s probably buried in empty bottles by now. Besides, Gainos would have told us if he was out and about.”
A podium stood on a raised platform on one end, and the people had clustered in front of it. Arico and Jaas wove their way forward, leaving Sabra in the back. He seemed quite comfortable with that decision, and stared daggers at anyone foolish enough to lock gazes with him. Few did.
Sakkas patch’s Mayor was up on the platform and shook hands with them when they arrived. “Thank you for meeting with us, Arico. And you, Harbinger.”
“Just call me Jaas, sir,” she said uncomfortably.
“Thank you, Mayor,” Arico spoke in, smoothly covering for her. “We’re happy to be here, despite the secretive circumstances.” He gestured at the podium. “May I?”
The Mayor nodded, and Arico stepped up in front of the crowd. “Citizens of Sakkas!” He enunciated, projecting his voice to the very back of the room while trying not to be too loud. Even Sabra looked surprised at first, and then smiled gruesomely back.
“Many of you have questions for us, of course. Many of you have fears about who we are, or what we represent. I understand those fears, because I once shared them myself. However, we’re not like the Sustained. We come with answers, freely given. All you need to do is ask.”
One man didn’t hesitate. Though slightly shorter than his neighbors, he stood out from the others as he called up. “How do we know you aren’t a danger to us? You destroyed the New Day altar, and attacked the High Penet! You’ve declared war on the Council—on the Ascendants! Why should we risk our necks even talking to you?”
“The High Penet was uninjured,” Arico answered after a moment. His voice was noticeably darker as he continued, “despite his many crimes. And the altar was a symbol of how the Aquunite faith has been corrupted and used to control us. Let me be clear about this: I was the one who declared war on the Ascendants and their Lord. I made no such claim about you. Unlike the Council, my friends and I will give each of you a choice. No one’s asking you to fight or to risk your lives, and no one’s making you stay here and listen to this if you don’t want to.”
He took a deep breath and gentled his tone slightly. “That said, it’s my hope that you want more than just the life of servitude you were born to. Knowledge can free you, if you have the courage to listen.”
Those were the same words he’d used to conclude his Laentana speech. A challenge to the people, to be brave enough to risk change. Jaas was starting to see how clever it was. People who would turn down an offer and refuse a request might actually be more receptive to a challenge. It was basic psychology perhaps, but it looked like it was working.
“You talk like you’re one of us,” a burly young man said in a challenge of his own, “but I don’t see a Sakkas mark on your shoulder. I don’t see any mark at all! If you’re really a stra’tchi like us, then why don’t you have one? Why should we listen to you?”
“I was hidden away as a child,” Arico explained slowly. “I was kept away from the Ritual of Rejoining so that I could wear whatever mark I needed on my shoulder. It was necessary for the work I needed to do.” He pulled out one of the fake brands and tossed it to the man in the crowd. “Take a look. It’s a perfect duplicate, and I’m sure I can make one like it for any one of you, to cover up your own mark.” The burly man passed it onto the rest of the crowd, his challenging look partially replaced with an impressed one.
Arico let them look at it for a few seconds before pushing on. “I know you take pride in your marks. I probably would too, if I’d been raised here. They’re a symbol of your home, of everything you hold dear.
“But aren’t they also a symbol of your enslavement? Weren’t you each branded with this mark the day you were forcibly taken from your parents? For those of you who’ve had children, would you have ever chosen to give them up, even if it meant they would wear a mark they would someday be proud of?”
He sighed. “We’re trying to build a better future here in Patchwork. There are Sustained who will stand in the way of that, but there are many, many more of you than there are of them. Once they back down, none of you will ever again have to feel the pain of having your children taken away!” The people murmured to each other for a few seconds. Jaas could practically hear the gears turning in their heads as they considered what he was saying.
“You talk about a better future,” an older woman called out, giving a nasty look to Jaas, “but you’re risking us having a future at all! The prophecy is clear: the Harbinger brings the end of all of us, and you brought her right to us!”
Jaas shivered. She’d never meant to bring fear to these people, nor to incite them in any way. Like them, though, she’d been assigned this position just by being here. She had no choice in being called the Harbinger, no more than they did in being called stra’tchi.
“I don’t believe in the prophecy,” Arico countered softly. “At least not that interpretation of it. For all we know the Harbinger will bring the end of the Council instead! But even if your version is true, what difference would bringing her here make? If we’re all doomed anyway, then it doesn’t matter where she is, does it?”
Jaas looked down briefly. Yet again, superstition and fear were getting in the way of progress. At first, she’d thought Patchwork was different. They’d invented such wonderful devices and methods to get around their magic handicap. Unfortunately, all it took was hearing one little prophecy and so many people were more than willing to slide right back into isolationist stupidity.
Arico let that sink in for a few seconds. “Now, think about what it means if I’m right, and the prophecy doesn’t mean what you think it does. Jaas was raised on the Outside! Think about what she’s seen and learned out there. About what she could teach us!”
That was her cue. Nervously, Jaas stepped up next to him. She looked down at the woman who’d just spoken. “Tell me your name, please.” She tried to inject some friendliness into her voice, despite its nervous tremor.
“Alys,” the woman responded slowly. “Alys Henshaw.”
“Henshaw. A name your family gave itself, correct?” Alys nodded, and Jaas continued. “But what’s the oldest family name you remember for yourself? Before you chose a name based on your farming life here?”
Alys thought for a moment. “Pelechos, on my father’s side. That was the name they used long ago.”
Jaas smiled openly and with relief. “Yes, I know that name. Ardan Pelechos was a merchant in old Vasiriah, and a pretty good one by all accounts.” She opened up her pack and pulled out the genealogy scroll. There hadn’t been time to copy it onto the metal plates before this meeting, so Jaas was keenly aware of just how irreplaceable it was right at this moment. “He was a financial advisor to the Vasiri treasurers who worked directly for the old emperor. I have his family line here in writing.” She lifted the parchment to the crowd. “It’s all a matter of public record on the Outside!”
For a few seconds, Jaas marveled at the hypocrisy of it all. Because everyone in this patch was adopted, there was no way of knowing if Alys was related to Pelechos at all. Yet for some reason everyone here insisted on making that assumption anyway! Was it this way for every stra’tchi patch? She suspected it might be. Regardless of their station, people always seemed to have a remarkable gift for lying to themselves. By the gods, even the Lord Ascendant himself came from a family of fishermen!
Well, there was nothing for it but to play along. She looked down at the young man who’d challenged Arico’s right to speak as one of them. “You, sir. What’s the oldest name your family’s had?”
“Tal’unos,” he answered suspiciously.
That one wasn’t familiar to her. Spreading the parchment out on the podium, she ran her finger down the list of names until she came to it. “Here it is. Taal Tal’unos, a musician in the Court of Songs.”
A rustle of laughter rippled through the crowd. “You, a musician?” Another man heckled him. “I’ve heard you try to sing. You sound like you’re trying to drown a cat!”
Their tone had changed, if only subtly. The people here had quietly stopped challenging her and Arico. Now they were showing genuine curiosity. One after another after another eventually received information about their ancestry, or at least what they assumed was theirs. Information they’d never had before, and which was obviously precious to them.
Before long though, Arico put a temporary stop to it. “The Mayor and two of his aides have agreed to come with me to see what else we have to offer. We’ll be back in an hour at most, but if you wish to see for yourselves, now is the time to join us.” He glanced down at the people gathered around Jaas and the parchment. “We have a few hours before sunrise. If you want to keep looking up your ancestors, I’m sure Jaas can help.”
A few of them left along with Arico, and Jaas had to admit the cunning of his plan. Their fear of the Harbinger had been subtly replaced with gratitude for the information she’d brought. Shaking her head, she turned back to the people and kept on looking up names for them.
It wasn’t long before people started asking other questions about the Outside. What it was like to be on a boat, what elves looked like, what kind of exotic animals she’d seen; that sort of thing. It reminded her of Arico’s little tirade on the top of that tower just after she’d arrived in the city. She answered as best she could.
Then a boy raised his hand. He was young: perhaps six years old. “Why is your skin so dark?”
There was a rustle of amusement through the score or so remaining people. Jaas knelt next to him. “What’s your name, child?”
“Warek.”
She smiled. “Well, Warek. The truth is, my skin isn’t dark. It’s your skin that’s light.” Another noise rippled through the group, this one noticeably more indignant. People gave each other confused glances at that.
Jaas hid a grimace. She’d forgotten one of the most important things about speech-giving. People are proud, and she had to pander to that pride. “What I mean by that,” she explained quickly, “is that Patchwork is special in that way. Most people in the world have my skin color, or darker.”
“But why?” Warek persisted.
The hostility seemed to have passed, but Jaas knew she had to tread carefully. Arico wasn’t around to guide her anymore. “It’s because of the people who built this city, actually. Centuries ago when the First Emperor found this place, he decided to build his capital here. He wanted it done quickly, too. But it was already summer by then, and he knew he wouldn’t have a livable settlement built before the winter snows arrived.”
Again, she looked up at the crowd. It was important that they understood this part of their history. “He needed help to build this place, and he got it. The Paleqi tribes all around this area were strong, hard-working, and very used to the cold. The First Emperor sent out soldiers to capture the Paleqi by the hundreds and bring them back here. As… slaves.”
A solemn quiet fell over the room. Even Warek seemed to sense it. Jaas had never really seen slaves before coming here. There were servants in many houses she’d visited as a child, but they were all paid—all able to leave if they wished. That wasn’t true for the stra’tchi.
“The Paleqi tribesmen were everything the Vasiri wanted. They built the city their southerner masters wanted, but they weren’t allowed to go home after it was done. When the Vasiri moved in, they didn’t want to give up their new slave labor force. At first there was resistance from the Paleqi, but over the next few generations, the idea of Imperial slaves working in and around the capital became, well, normal.” Jaas felt a little sick at that. Her ancestors had been Vasiri too, and had stolen those peoples’ futures away from them.
“It took a hundred or so years, but eventually people started to get fed up with how your ancestors were being treated. Paleqi were the only ones at first, but after a while even some Vasiri joined the fight. According to the histories there was finally a bloody uprising, which started not twelve leagues from this very spot,” she pointed to the west, towards where the remains of the Crystal Palace had fallen. “Emperor Torekan the fourth was slain, and his cousin Artruris took his place. The new Emperor was sympathetic, and used the opportunity to name all Paleqi, and anyone who was even part Paleqi, as freedmen.”
Jaas sighed. “Even after that though, it was decades more before whites had the same rights as any other citizen! Laws had to be changed again and again, and not every Emperor was as just as Artruris. Some of them simply refused to enforce the laws of the people, just because my ancestors stubbornly refused to consider anyone with even a hint of Paleqi blood as an equal!”
She reached out and put a hand on Warek’s shoulder, giving the audience a sweeping glance. “After the Threading, there was no time for people to hate others just because of how they looked—everyone was too busy just trying to survive. Once the immediate danger was gone, that hatred just came back. Only now it’s not about skin color anymore, it’s about whether or not someone’s a navigator! Before, it was whites who had no say—no future, and no hope. Now, it’s the stra’tchi! It’s the exact same hatred as before, just with a different target this time around!”
“Wait a minute,” one of the villagers interjected, sounding angry. “Navigators are chosen by Aquun. It was She who gave them the power to go wherever they wish, and the right to rule over the rest of us!”
Jaas looked over at him. He was young, perhaps fifteen years, but he didn’t look threatening or violent—just challenging. “Let me guess. The magistrate here in Sakkas patch told you that, and he said it was from the Book of Aquun.”
The kid nodded firmly, and Jaas reached down into her pack. She pulled out a copy of the book, one of the few the Hauld had been willing to lend her, and held it up for everyone to see. “This is the Book of Aquun. I’ve read it from cover to cover, and it says nothing about navigators having a right to rule over the rest of us. Your magistrate, and the penets, and the Sustained Council themselves, have all lied to you! They tell you whatever they want to, in order to keep themselves in power, and because you are forbidden from learning how to read, they can keep doing it forever!”
She shook her head slowly. “It’s a story I’ve heard again and again on the Outside. People in power making sure that the laws will always keep them in power. The Sustained were born with power, and the stra’tchi born without. My ancestors were born with power, and most of yours were born as slaves. Where is the difference? Power must be earned, or given freely, else the people who have it don’t deserve it!”
Grimacing, she looked back down at Warek. “I know all of this is confusing. It doesn’t make much sense to you, but there is at least one thing that you should remember most of all. Your ancestors were strong and proud people. They fought for everything they had, and weren’t afraid to die so that they could be seen as equals. You should be proud to be like them.”
-.-
Arico led the way back into the sewer tunnels, flanked by the Mayor’s guards and about a dozen other people. Sabra had obligingly agreed to stay behind and keep an eye on Jaas. Arico doubted anyone would try anything stupid, but Sabra’s presence would definitely help with that.
Mayor Aldwith walked with quiet dignity behind him, apparently lost in thought. Some of the people who’d volunteered to come along weren’t so placid, though, whispering excitedly to each other.
Years ago, based on information provided by both Alzhi and Arico, the Hauld had come up with a list of patches to convince first. He’d kept quiet since then, right up until Arico had made his speech. That was the spark to light the flame, and now they had to work quickly to pile on as much kindling as possible.
They were starting with Sakkas patch because it was the richest stra’tchi farming community in Patchwork. Nearly one in twenty of these people had a Transit Pass and could spread the word of what they’d seen to other patches. Still, this was just the beginning. He might have to give dozens, even hundreds more speeches before this was all over. The demands on Jaas might be just as bad, if not worse.
Trying not to think about that, he quietly led them up to the still pool underground. It was a strange sight even to him, and he’d been the one to dig it in the first place. They were right at the corner where two threads met, and the hole itself was the shape of a hemisphere. It was as if an apple had been cut into eight equal pieces, and they were standing in front of a hole in the ground, shaped like one of those slices. He’d then filled the hole with the Waters so it could be used in this way.
Lying on the ground next to him was the cured sheep’s stomach he’d brought from the Enclave. It was inflated and sealed to keep air in, and it worked remarkably well. He scooped it up and turned to face the others. “Another of the Council’s lies is that there’s no way to communicate with other patches unless you have a navigator. I’ll prove otherwise to you, right here and now. Is anyone willing to participate and see for themselves?”
They exchanged glances amongst themselves for a bit, before two youngsters nodded to each other and stepped forward. The Mayor’s guards stopped them at first, but he waved a hand and they were allowed through.
“You’re Hanji, aren’t you?” Arico inquired, looking at the older of the two. He’d been one of those who’d asked Jaas for information.
Hanji nodded. “And this is my brother Othan.”
“All right. Hanji, I’m going to take you over there.” He pointed through the threads, at what looked like a solid dirt wall. After the next New Day happened, it would appear as it really was, with the pool occupying both sides. “Othan, if you’ll stay here and watch, we’ll send this back to you through the threads.” He hefted the sheep’s stomach. “Be sure to grab it as soon as it’s in reach, ok?” Othan nodded.
Hanji seemed comfortable enough with going through the threads, so Arico took him by the hand and navigated. Because they were only passing to an adjacent patch, it was as easy as walking through an open room.
The other side was exactly as he remembered it. Another eighth-of-an-apple-shaped pool, but no crowd visible from this side of course. “Now, Hanji. I want you to write a message to your brother. It has to be something only the two of you know, so that he’ll know it’s from you. I’ll put it in this and send it through to him.”
“I… can’t write.” Hanji said quietly.
Arico slapped his forehead. Of course! “I’m sorry, Hanji. I’ve been able to read and write since I was a kid, so I forgot. How about you tell me what to write? I’ll send it through, and they can take it to Jaas to read it. Tell me something only Othan would know.”
Hanji thought about it for a few seconds and smiled. “Tell him… he’s the pointed one this time.”
With a smile of his own Arico wrote that down, carefully wrapped the scrap of parchment inside the cured container to keep it from getting wet, and jumped into the pool. It was deep enough that he sank up to his shoulders before reaching the bottom.
“Watch closely,” he instructed. “You have to be careful, or you might lose a hand in the threads. What you have to do is throw it like you would a ball. The container has to be underwater when it reaches the threads, or it won’t make it through to the other side. This one has rocks inside, to make sure it doesn’t float too quickly.” Choreographing his movements for Hanji’s benefit, he ‘threw’ the sheep’s stomach into the threads, careful to let go and pull his hand back before it went in as well. He was in no danger of course, but any non-navigator sending that message would have to be just as careful.
The container vanished as soon as it hit the threads, just as the ones he regularly sent to Jaas’ friend on the Outside. At first, Arico hadn’t been sure this… Inelem had even been getting them, but then he’d started getting responses coming back through the north end of the Waters. Arico had written his own letters to Inelem as well, right from the start, and now he was including messages from Endu as well.
He hadn’t told Jaas about any of the other letters, though. The plan they were working on together had no guarantees of success, and Arico didn’t want to get her hopes up in case they failed.
Arico climbed back out of the pool, sopping wet, and extended a hand to Hanji. “Come on. Let’s see if they got the message.” He paused though, looking at Hanji’s expression. Something wasn’t right.
The kid was staring at the pool, but he looked afraid as well. “What’s wrong, Hanji?”
Hanji looked up at him. “If I want to send a message through the threads, I have to get in the Waters… but I can’t swim! How will I be safe if you’re not here? How will anyone?”
Arico sighed. “It’s not that deep, trust me. As long as you stay away from the threads, you can just stand in the Waters. I know you never learned to swim—none of the stra’tchi can—but all of that will change if we gain equality for your people. You’ll have as much of the Waters as you need, whenever you need it!”
He hadn’t considered just how many stumbling blocks were in place between the stra’tchi and their freedom and equality. Literacy was just one of them, and this swimming thing was another. It was yet another reminder of how little he really had in common with the stra’tchi.
Othan was holding the sheep’s stomach when they got back. Apparently he hadn’t been quite as afraid of drowning as his brother had been. Of course they had to bring it back to Jaas to confirm what it said, but when that was done everyone seemed very impressed.
“You can send these to any patch bordering ours?” The Mayor inquired, excitement seeping past his carefully cultured air of dignity.
“Anyone can,” Arico assured him. “Whether they’re a navigator or not. You can communicate with your neighbors whenever you want. All you need to do is set someone to watch the pool and make sure that any messages make it out without accidentally floating back into the threads.”
He sighed. “This is only the beginning, though. If you want to talk to all your neighbors, you’ll need to dig holes on all four corners of Sakkas patch, and fill them each with the Waters. We can help with that, too.”
There was a problem with that as well. That pool was situated underground to keep it from being obvious to any navigators who came here. All the other pools would have to be underground too, at least until the Council had been overthrown. There was no way they would allow stra’tchi patches to communicate openly. They’d have to deal with that problem another time, though. For now he was just trying to convince them to be open to the possibilities.
“But this is only useful if we can read,” one of the Mayor’s aides pointed out, picking up on his fears. “The magistrate’s the only one knows how to do that, and he’d never teach us.”
“It’s easy enough to learn, believe me.” Arico put a hand on Hanji’s shoulder. “Jaas and I have friends who could teach you.” He tried to keep the tension out of his voice. The dwarves would certainly be willing to teach them (that was part of the Hauld’s plan after all), but centuries of propaganda against them made it unwise to mention the dwarves just yet. He’d have to talk to the Mayor about that in private.
Othan looked worried. “If the magistrate finds out, though-”
“What will he do, test us to see if we can read?” Hanji asked scornfully. “We can always pretend we can’t.”
The Mayor held up a hand, stemming further discussion. “We’ll… talk about this in private. Later. As for now, will you and your friends join us for a late meal? I’m sure there are others who will wish to hear what you have to say.”
Arico glanced over at Jaas, as she was talking animatedly about her hometown. Sabra was standing silently in the background as some of the Sakkas children chased each other around his tree-trunk-sized legs. He gave a slow nod, indicating he saw no danger.
Arico took another deep breath, this time in relief at how well this had gone. “Thank you, Mayor. We’d be honored to join you.”
