Part 2: The Impetus of Change
Chapter 21
The marble halls were bustling with activity. Messengers and dignitaries alike moved quickly and with purpose into and out of the Council chambers. On the far side of the room closest to the window, Berilo stood at his usual spot and glared down at the various reports that had arrived concerning the Laentana.
One of his guard captains approached him hesitantly. “My liege…”
“Spit it out, Turos. It’s not as if this day could get any worse.”
“It’s, uh, Lord Tanner, my liege. He’s ordered his men to begin another search of the city. They’re deploying as we speak.”
“What?” He barked the word, and Turos flinched. “No, call them back right now. We need every man we can get at the Laentana patches. Don’t worry; I’ll take responsibility with Tanner.”
Turos gave a respectful bow and hurried out. Growling, Berilo resisted the urge to pace around the room. He’d called an emergency Council meeting to deal with the crisis, but as always, the isolating nature of the threads made convening the Council a slow process.
As he waited, the head of his House Guard entered the room and came to attention. He was standing so stiffly that Berilo wondered if he was actually pulling sockets out of joints as he did so. As well he should, Berilo concluded darkly, given the sheer magnitude of this failure. He walked over to the guardsman and held him at attention for another few moments.
“You have news?”
“Yes, my liege,” the unfortunate man answered, barely above a whisper. Berilo gave him the cue to continue, and he did. “Two of my men were at the site of the attack just now. They confirmed that this… speech-giver was the very same man who attacked the Spire last week. It appears that he used sparkpowder taken… from here.”
Now that was blatantly obvious. “You told me last week that the attack on the Spire was mere sabotage. That the intruder had destroyed the sparkpowder in order to stop the fireworks at the Laentana.”
Though it seemed barely possible, the man’s spine stiffened even further. “Yes sir, I did.”
“Three guards unconscious. One more in pieces in the nearby hall! And worst of all, it was my sparkpowder that was used to ruin the opener to this year’s Laentana! Can you give me any reason why I shouldn’t have your head mounted on a spear at the manor gates??”
“No sir.”
Berilo eyed him for a few more moments. His composure was admirable, given that his lifespan could very well be down to a matter of seconds. Grunting, Berilo dismissed him with a wave and he tromped off down the hall again.
To his credit, the Guard Captain had served him well ever since he’d become Lord Ascendant. He’d never be as loyal or true as House Fisher’s servants back home, but he was useful enough to keep alive for now. Conversely this… Arico heretic, whoever he was, was an unknown variable. He would have to be understood before he could be predicted, and eventually publicly executed.
Some of Berilo’s advisors had suggested that he cancel the Laentana, but apparently one of the penets had decided to continue with the ceremony regardless, and Berilo had supported his choice. Not only would canceling send a message of weakness and fear to the stra’tchi, but this celebration had just become a valuable opportunity. Of course the Sustained Heads would have to be convinced of that. They always did. At least none of them had any idea that the sparkpowder had come from Sevvas patch itself. Many of them wouldn’t hesitate to use that little tidbit against him.
There. The Councilors were finally arriving, including Tanner. Berilo waited a few minutes until the last of them took a seat, and then signaled for Tenlor to shut the door. As before, his son would sit in on this meeting.
“My lords. Forgive the abruptness of this meeting, but under the current circumstances I’m sure you understand the need for haste.” He tried to get a feeling for the room to see which, if any of them, might actually be involved in this crisis.
“I can now confirm that the heretic’s name is indeed on the Registry. There are four Aricos in the city, but only one was raised in a farming patch. It seems our heretic was born thirty-two years ago in Sallna patch, to parents who have since died. He was tested and placed in Tellek patch. My people have interned everyone from Tellek already, and the sifters are interviewing them even now. Their magistrate has also been contacted, and is on his way here.”
“Obviously whoever tested him made a mistake,” Lord Miller put in sourly. “This is clearly the same navigator who violated my territory!”
“And threatened the Deathwatchers, yes.” Berilo held up another parchment. “This is his certificate of testing. Unfortunately, his tester was Menru Scrivener.”
The Councilors exchanged glances. Scrivener had been one of the most distinguished navigators in recent history, but he’d died almost twenty years ago from a fall in his home. “Are you sure that it was Menru, my liege?” Lord Grover spoke up. Unlike the other lords present, Grover was old enough to remember Scrivener with clarity. “It wasn’t like him to make such mistakes.”
“I agree.” Berilo slid the parchment over to Grover. “We worked together for a long time, and I knew his handwriting better than most. But the document is a short one. It’s possible someone could have forged his hand, which leaves us at somewhat of an impasse. Just to be sure, I’ve asked for a list of any Sustained who have access to the records room in Penntu patch. If this is a forgery, we will find out who is responsible.”
He nodded to Tenlor, who stepped forward in front of the Council. “As for the Deathwatch Monster, he was under heavy guard when the attack commenced,” Tenlor reported gravely. “Apparently he was in on the plan, because he moved the moment the explosion went off. Before anyone could react, he was over the redline and vanished into the threads.”
A murmur of outrage rippled through the room. “The Monster is a navigator??” Lord Mason interjected, sounding stunned.
Tenlor shook his head. “Three of the guards saw a hand reach out of the threads to grab him. I’d be willing to bet the same Sustained who’s been helping our heretic get information was also the one who helped the Monster escape.”
Berilo gave Mason a curious glance. His interest in the Monster was irregular, for such a usually terse man. Berilo resolved to question Mason further, at a later date. Perhaps he knew something that could help them find the giant before it could do any more damage.
With nothing further to report, Tenlor withdrew to the back of the room again to watch the proceedings. He had instructions, however briefly given, to keep a close eye on the Councilors as well. It was becoming increasingly unlikely that one of them was behind this, but you could never be completely sure.
Berilo looked over the other notes he’d been given, including the heretic’s limited history. “There’s not much here about this Arico. His adoptive father—name listed as Durhu—is missing. Tellek has been searched for him as well with no results. The dwelling they shared has been cleaned out. Obviously they were both in on this.”
He paused for a moment. Durhu… there was something familiar about that name. He couldn’t quite place it, though, and gave an internal shrug. It would probably come to him later. There was a soft knock at the door. After waiting for Berilo to nod, Tenlor opened the door and admitted an old man with a cane.
“Magistrate Taono. Do come forward,” Berilo welcomed him.
The magistrate hobbled his way in front of the Council. His expression was one of haughty indignation. A mask, most certainly to cover his fear. After all he was responsible for the actions of everyone from Tellek patch, and he had to know by now that the attacker had been one of his own people.
“Tell us everything you know about Arico and his father, magistrate,” Berilo instructed without preamble. They didn’t have any time to waste.
“Yes my liege. I met them both nearly thirty years ago when they first arrived in Tellek patch,” the magistrate mumbled to the room. “Little Arico was asleep in his arms, and Durhu was… well, Durhu.”
“What do you mean, ‘arrived’?” Mason cut in. “Who brought them?”
“I don’t know, my lord. It was the early morning, and I had just risen. Durhu didn’t say anything of course, but he had a Transit Pass and all the proper documentation, and both he and the boy had been properly marked. The note he carried said the navigator who transported them had been very busy, and had simply left them at the edge of the threads.”
“And you believed that?” Tenlor practically shouted. A few of the Councilors made noises of displeasure as well.
The magistrate flinched at the noise. “Everything was in order! They had all the papers they needed; they had even been signed by Menru Scrivener!”
Berilo let out a strained sigh and raised a hand before Tenlor could berate the man again. “How well did they fit in, magistrate? Did they have any close friends in your village?”
The old man shook his head. “Not at first, my liege. Durhu repaired the old cabin outside the village and raised Arico there. They kept to themselves most of the time. The boy made a few friends in the village, but I almost never saw them except for the Ritual of Waters.”
“Was there anything unusual at all about them? Anything you can remember?” Berilo asked with growing frustration.
The magistrate paused, gripping his cane even tighter. “Well, there was one thing I found odd right from the beginning. Durhu never spoke a single word. At first I thought he wasn’t right in the head, or he’d lost his voice somehow. Eventually the patch healer told me that Durhu was a deaf-mute. He used a strange gesture language with his hands to speak. He taught only Arico and a few others to understand it.”
Time seemed to slow down for Berilo. A deaf-mute who used handtalk… named Durhu. No wonder the name had sounded familiar! “That sneaky little bastard!”
“My liege?” The magistrate looked at him curiously.
Abruptly Berilo realized he’d whispered that aloud. Thankfully, only the magistrate seemed to have been close enough to hear anything. “Never mind, magistrate. You’re excused.”
Still looking confused, the magistrate nodded and hobbled his way out. Berilo tried to clear his head. This was neither the time nor the place to tell the Council about ancient history.
“This heretic attacked the High Penet and one of his aides,” he continued harshly to the room. “Thankfully both of them will recover, but this isn’t just an attack on them. His message was heard by people from every single stra’tchi patch! He publicly undermined the authority of this Council, not to mention the validity of the Aquunite faith, and got away unpunished. That is unacceptable!” The room was quiet as a tomb for a handful of seconds as he swept his gaze across them all. So far, none of them had given any indication of guilt or treachery.
“Speaking of the High Penet,” a measured voice spoke up from the other side of the room, “I’ve had him removed from the clinic and placed in Council custody.”
Berilo had thought nothing could shock the people assembled in this room—not after today’s events. Apparently, he’d been wrong. The Clarion met each of their glares in turn, unflinchingly and unapologetically.
“He will of course continue to receive medical care,” the Clarion continued reasonably, “but I can’t allow him to speak with anyone other than the healers tending to him, and only because I chose them myself. They can be trusted to disregard anything he says.”
“And what gives you the right to just lock him away?” Lord Weaver spoke up, apparently choking back his indignation long enough to get the words out. From their looks, most of the other lords felt the same way.
The Clarion’s face didn’t change at all. That same intensity he’d worn like a cloak—ever since Berilo had first met the man, in fact—was still evident on his features. His son found those features unsettling, but Berilo recognized the Clarion for what he was: a most powerful tool that could be used for the benefit of the city. Still. Every tool wore out eventually, and the Clarion was no different.
His voice remained steady and calm, though. Even reasonable, if such a word could be applied to a zealot. “This Arico accused the High Penet of assaulting children, my lord. Of forcing himself upon them. Such an accusation—no matter its source—demands investigation. And given that the High Penet answers only to this Council, I am the only one with the authority to conduct such an investigation.”
“You don’t actually believe this… barbarian, do you?” Grover asked incredulously.
“It doesn’t matter whether I believe him or not,” the Clarion responded evenly. “I still have an obligation to investigate fully. If only to clear my esteemed colleague’s name, of course,” he added with a hint of sarcasm.
Berilo almost smiled. High Penet Paraku’s weakness for little boys was well known in the higher circles of Sustained society. Until now, no one had done a thing about it, because the man had connections among most of the Sustained Houses, and had been wise enough not to flaunt his activities. Despite his pious upbringing, the Clarion had probably heard some of the rumors himself. Now, thanks to this heretic’s public accusations, the Clarion could finally do something about it.
Even so, they didn’t have time for that right now. The Clarion would pursue his investigation regardless, and Berilo had bigger fish to fry. “Back to the business at hand, and the reason I called you all here. I know that some of you,” he gave a pointed look at Tanner, “are inclined to go out searching for this heretic at once. It’s obvious by now that he has help from within our ranks, possibly from one of the Ascendant Guards themselves. As such any new search for him will likely prove just as fruitless as the last one. Instead I’ve already arranged for some of my best people to participate in the stra’tchi Laentana itself.”
That caused a stir among them, but he cut it off quickly. “Consider this, my lords! Right now, stra’tchi from all over Patchwork are talking about this man’s little tirade. Weighing it, debating it, thinking about it. He promised he would get in touch with them again, didn’t he? We need people in there, listening to what people have to say about this man and his message! If fortune smiles on us, we may get a clue where we could find him, but at the very least,” Berilo speared them one after another with a hard look, “we need to get a feel for how they’re taking this information.”
Weaver was the first to respond. “My liege, you’re not actually expecting our people to… pretend to be stra’tchi, are you?”
“I’ve already got members of my own House Guard getting patch marks painted on their shoulders,” he answered coldly. “Your people will be expected to participate as well, Lord Weaver. The Laentana has already been going on for two hours! How many other times will our people be able to mix with theirs and listen in, without being painfully obvious about it?”
There were a few more objections from some of them, but nothing particularly forceful. Berilo dismissed the meeting and allowed the Council to head out. The Clarion was one of the first to leave, unsurprisingly. He no doubt had questions for the High Penet and his closest aides.
Strangely, not all the Lords were eager to leave. Weaver and Grover stayed behind, obviously intent on a private conversation with him. Grimacing, Berilo stepped over to them. “My lords, you both have work to do.”
“This is getting out of hand, Berilo.” Grover said harshly. “It was one thing when he was just sitting in on the Council meetings. When he had the arrogance to start giving us advice, it was frustrating enough, but now he’s locked up the head of the Aquunite religion! Who’ll be next?”
Berilo didn’t respond. Grover’s mistake was understandable—after all he’d known Berilo the longest of anyone on the Council. Still, he couldn’t let it slide, not with Weaver here watching. He merely kept Grover’s gaze steadily, until the other realized his mistake.
“My apologies, my liege. I… forgot myself.” He looked down to his feet. If he was lying, he was doing an admirable job of hiding it. Berilo nodded, satisfied.
“But he has a point, my liege,” Weaver added. “If the High Penet isn’t safe, then none of us are. The Clarion is behaving like some kind of rising star, and he’s treating us like nothing more than underlings!”
Berilo sighed. “Paraku has been indiscreet for more than five years now, my lords. I can’t protect him from himself! Our dear High Penet will have to hope he can dispose of any evidence that could damn him. Our Clarion will certainly turn over every stone before this is over. At least you two have the common sense to keep your dirty laundry hidden.”
He put his hands on both their shoulders reassuringly. “Do not worry, my lords. The Clarion is no threat to either of you just yet. If that should ever change, I trust you to find an effective, discreet way of dealing with him. Now,” he gestured to the door, “you both have places to be. I suggest you get to work.”
As usual, Tenlor stayed behind for more instructions after the others had left. Berilo paced in front of him, thinking out loud as he tried to piece together what to do next. “Well. It appears your predictions about this Deathwatch visitor were correct.”
“I wish I could take comfort in that, father.” For once Berilo could detect no ego, no gloating in Tenlor’s tone. “I’ll bring in my Ascendants to help with the… spying.”
“No, I’ve got a more important job for them. They’re all navigators by now, correct?”
Tenlor nodded, a suspicious look on his face. “They are. I dismissed the last normal guard last month.”
“Good. Take fifteen Ascendants and put one on each patch bordering the Enclave. They’re to stay hidden inside the threads, and report anything suspicious they see in dwarven territory—anything at all. Have the rest of them spread out throughout the city. Leave them in the threads as well, monitoring the most important industrial and rural patches. Any sign of dwarven activity and I want to know immediately, understood?”
“You don’t think the dwarves would be stupid enough to try and break the peace after all this time, do you? We outnumber them twenty to one!”
Berilo grunted. “All I know is right now we have only a skeleton force defending the city. More than three quarters of our navigators are tied up with the Laentana, and less than half our guards are able to be mobilized quickly. I’m certain the dwarves are involved with what happened this morning, however invisibly.”
He ran his finger across the table between them. An elaborate map had been carved into it, delineating the patches, the Waters, even the wall itself. The various Sustained territories, though, changed almost daily. As a result there was no point in painting particular patches on the table any one color. Suspiciously, he eyed the small corner on the south end of the city. Dwarven territory.
“They’re up to something, Tenlor—I’m sure of it. You and I have both been to the Enclave many times. True, we never went beyond the Keep’s gates, and we were only there to negotiate trade deals and maintain the Pact, but we’ve both met the Hauld and his son. Last month when I was there, there was something different in the old dwarf’s voice. Something was slightly off about our conversation, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. Now I know. They made this happen! Whoever this Arico is, he’s definitely working with them. We have to be ready for when they make their next move, or everything we’ve built here could be for nothing!”
Berilo sighed heavily. Now was not the time to be jumping at shadows, no matter who might be casting them. “I also want your people to look for places they can hide inside the patches themselves. Preferably high up where they can see most of the patch from one location. The stra’tchi spend their entire lives in these patches, so there’s no way we can move around them undetected. But we may be able to keep an eye on them at least. Issue the appropriate orders to your men.” Tenlor nodded obediently.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Berilo added almost as an afterthought. “Send a scribe to join the sifters while they interrogate the Tellek villagers. Have him draw a composite of this Durhu man, and then send it to me.”
Tenlor obviously didn’t remember Anathdur’hu from the magistrate’s description. That wasn’t much of a surprise; he’d only been a small boy the last time the man had been here. It was almost certain that Anathdur’hu and this Durhu rebel were the same person, but Berilo had to be sure.
Tenlor still looked skeptical, but he nodded again and took off. For a moment Berilo was tempted to order him to stay safe, but he knew that would be pointless. Tenlor could be stubborn when his safety became a concern, and they both knew that to hide right now would be to invite challenges to their authority.
He waited until Tenlor was out of earshot before calling for the manor’s Chamberlain. As was fitting for any good servant, the man was always just out of sight waiting for his master’s call. “My liege?”
“Andir, there was a servant girl who worked in the manor over two decades ago. Torha, I think her name was. She was partially deaf, but had learned to speak normally despite that. I want her found, wherever she is now, and brought in for questioning.”
“Her name is Toria, sir,” the Chamberlain answered, a bit hesitantly. “I know her well. She’s still part of the household staff, as far as I know.”
It was unlike the Chamberlain to equivocate. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she didn’t report for work this morning, my liege. I was going to send someone to her home, but-”
“No, just tell the guards where she lives,” Berilo cut him off impatiently. The guards would investigate, but Toria had probably been in on this plan from the start, which meant she was also long gone by now. “I’ll have them handle it. However, I want whoever knew her best to report here immediately.”
“At once, my liege.” Andir bowed deeply and scurried off.
Berilo sighed. He’d have to get a composite picture of Toria as well, and have it distributed. Anathdur’hu had covered his tracks well. Turning back to the window, he waited for more reports to come in.
