Chapter 19
The flickering candlelight was a poor substitute for a steady, strong lighting spell, but it was all she had. It was well before dawn, so Jaas needed it.
The day has arrived, she carefully wrote in the darkness. The New Day, rather. Dwarves all over the Enclave are bustling around, preparing for the celebration to come. I’ve helped in what little ways I could, but mostly I’ve just tried to not get in the way.
I’ve had a chance to learn a little more about the New Day system. Just after the threads first became invisible, people started to pay attention to the Outside as best they could. From then on the images would update themselves every three months, showing a ‘new day’ each time. It’s no surprise that they made a series of holidays out of it.
Jaas took a break as she noticed Endu leave one of the stout dwarven buildings carrying an armful of colored paper. She hesitated at first, thinking about what Endu had told her the other day, and put quill to parchment again.
I find myself having a hard time maintaining emotional detachment. Of course that was inevitable, given my isolation from my peers, but I was unprepared for the degree of difference here. The people in this resistance movement have suffered greatly at the hands of the Sustained. I’ve decided to help them, but not out of self-preservation or a desire to get out of the city. It’s strange, but for the first time in my life I actually feel drawn to a cause. And a political cause at that! It’s not scientific or practical, and I know I’m too emotionally compromised to be a reliable researcher right now.
Of course I’ll continue to record as much as I can, she promised herself in writing, but if any of my colleagues get the chance to read this, please be aware of my bias.
Just as she had back on the riverbank when she’d first arrived in the city, Jaas found herself a little short of breath. Emotional detachment was the lifeblood of a scientist’s methodology, regardless of their field of study. She’d never even heard the word ‘scientist’ before coming here, but she was one regardless. Just a scientist who studied magic first and foremost. Even so, without that emotional detachment even rational and intelligent people were almost guaranteed to produce flawed results. Sometimes without even knowing it. She had just walked away from one of the most important principles she’d ever had, and she barely even felt bad about it!
Jaas shook her head to clear it, and looked around. Endu and Arico were helping the dwarves to hang painted banners over the designated field, and prepare the light show for later that night. It was still more than an hour before dawn, but even in the dimness she could see people’s eyes shining with excitement. Everyone except Sabra, it seemed.
He didn’t look upset either though, as Jaas rolled up her parchment and scooted over next to him on the hill overlooking the party grounds. For all she knew he’d never even attended a New Day party. Or Laentana actually, as this one was called. A celebration of the spring.
“I heard the dwarves hold a drinking contest in the evening of each New Day,” she broke the ice quietly, as they watched the ale barrels being rolled out onto the field. “I doubt most men could hold their own against the dwarves, but maybe you could. Want to give it a shot?”
Sabra snorted in response and scratched at the dressing on his shoulder. “Not fair to the dwarves. Sabra weighs a lot more than them.”
“Maybe take a handicap then? You take three drinks every time they take one?”
He grunted a laugh at her suggestion. “Still not a fair fight.”
Jaas shifted her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “You’re probably right. I bet Arico will have them save a few barrels for you though. Just in case.”
Sabra stretched out his uninjured arm, and his spine popped several times as he arched his back and yawned. “Sabra wishes to join pretty lady in the human celebration, but can’t. This celebration especially,” he added with a strange look on his face.
Given her own reaction when she’d first met him, Jaas could understand his frustration. A lot of people would no doubt be afraid of him if he turned up for the Laentana. “Don’t worry, Sabra. It won’t be this way forever.”
“Little man is good at bringing people together, but Sabra is better at doing the other thing,” he said softly, and his hands clenched. “Sabra knows little man is building a better future,” Sabra went on, his frustration was starting to show a little. “Sabra just wishes it would hurry up and get here. Sabra can’t go back to the Deathwatchers, not anymore. Not with what Sabra knows is out here now.”
It must have been something like Arico’s longing for the Outside world, back on the top of that tower. Now that Sabra had seen a bit more of Patchwork, there was no way he could return to his old life. It would be like stuffing a butterfly back into its cocoon. Or in Sabra’s case, a killer bee.
“Sabra, why do you talk like that? Why do you never use people’s names? Other than when you named Veles, I’ve never heard you call anyone by name.”
Sabra grinned. “Sabra does sometimes. But never when they can hear. Sabra can’t risk little man getting a big head.”
“Oh? So do you use my name at all?” She asked, amused.
Sabra reached over and patted her on the head with a gnarled hand. “Aww. Pretty lady thinks Sabra talks about her when she’s not around. That’s just adorable.” Jaas stuck her tongue out at him.
A few minutes later, Arico and Nemith had arrived from the Fishbowl. “Everyone listen up,” Arico said to the humans and dwarves assembled, as well as Sabra. “Up until now, everything we’ve done for the movement has been passive. Reversible. Deniable. But today all of that will change. We’re almost to the point of no return. Some of you,” he nodded at the dwarves, “are here because your lord ordered you to be here. I want you to know how grateful I am for your help, even if it wasn’t by choice. As for the rest of you,” he turned to the Fishbowlers, to Endu, and to Jaas. “I want to give you one final chance to back out. We can send you away, and the Council will have no proof that you were ever involved with the movement at all.”
He took a deep breath. “There would be no shame in backing out. Some of you have families to think of, both here and in other patches. I wouldn’t blame any of you for choosing to protect them. All the same, if you are going to make that choice, the time is right now.”
A soft silence spread over the group, and Jaas could see people exchanging glances. A sort of cold feeling spread through her at the thought of what was to come. She wasn’t a warrior, or a revolutionary—she was just a scholar! Did she really have what it would take to be a part of this movement?
Then with a rustle of grass, Sabra stood up. He grimaced a little, and gave a rueful glance at Veles, before speaking. “Sabra stands with little man. We all have much to gain with the new city little man will help to build. Besides, Sabra never runs from a fight, especially before it even starts!”
“Hear hear!” Nemith seconded him, and Endu’s boys joined in. Jaas felt herself going along with it, and before long all the non-dwarves had given their assent as well. Arico raised a hand to quiet them.
“I’m honored,” he said, his voice cracking a little, “and I’ll try to make you proud. Now let’s go. We’ve got a lot of work to do, so let’s get to it.”
The group broke into several directions. As usual, Jaas could only guess as to what most of them were up to. Arico started moving towards the tunnel that eventually met the threads, but Jaas caught his eye, and he turned to face her. Nemith started to approach as well, but Arico held up a hand, keeping him away at first.
“I know you’ll want to attend the Laentana,” he told her with a smile. “You’ll want to document everything you see, of course. But you’ll have to take notes in your head. No one there will know how to read or write, so you can’t either.”
“I understand,” Jaas responded. “I take it you won’t be coming along?”
“I have my own task in there,” he said evasively, “but they’d recognize me anyway. At least you’ll be safe. Your hair has grown out since they last saw you, and with the right disguise no one will even give you a second glance.” He extended a hand, and Nemith came closer. “I asked Nemith to go with you. He’ll be your guide for the Laentana.”
“Don’t worry,” Nemith put in. “I’ll try not to act like a babysitter.”
Jaas nodded trustingly. She’d suspected that the resistance movement would use the celebration somehow, and it seemed Arico was right in the thick of their plan. “Whatever you’re up to, good luck.” On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thanks.” Arico looked surprised at first, but then gave her a brief bow and headed down the tunnel and out of sight.
Nemith didn’t give her much time to worry about him, though. “Arico didn’t mention this, but you should probably know. I’m not just coming along as a guide. If you’re recognized, or if things turn violent, you’ll need me to escape as well.”
“You’re a navigator?” Jaas asked, surprised.
Nemith nodded. “As is my son. Dwarven navigators will be useful in the months to come, but people like Arico, Alzhi, and myself… we’ll be essential. You’ll see why soon enough. Now come on. We’ve got places to be.”
-.-
According to Nemith, all four patches set aside for the Laentana were completely clear of structures on the edges of the threads. As a result, the only way to get in safely was the same way everyone else got in: officially. Apparently the Sustained were few enough in number that they could all celebrate the Laentana in one single patch, but there were far too many stra’tchi for that. They would attend a ceremony at dawn, but then they would split off into two separate patches for the rest of the day.
Nemith led her down the same passage Arico had taken, so they could leave the Enclave without being spotted. Jaas found it unlikely that people would be watching this deep into dwarven territory, but she could understand why they didn’t want to take chances anyway. When he put out the torch and took her into the threads, she found a similar view as before. Apparently Nemith represented himself as a beetle inside the threads. Jaas decided not to comment, though she did examine him closely during the trip.
Their first stop was another farming patch. It looked similar to Tellek, but on a different side of the city; it was a patch full of rolling hills. A strange circular building had been set up on the far end, painted completely white. That must have been the monastery she’d been told about.
Nemith led her a bit to the west behind an old barn for privacy’s sake, and then reached into his pocket and retrieved a pair of small flesh-colored discs, each about half a hand in diameter. He also produced a vial containing some kind of clear fluid.
“Watch closely,” he instructed, and Jaas leaned in to get a better look.
Nemith opened the vial and extracted some of the clear stuff with a finger. He then spread it out on his left shoulder, before carefully positioning the disc on his arm. He held it there firmly, his knuckles going white, for about a minute. “Each stra’tchi has such a mark, as I’m sure you know,” he explained. “It’s not easy, but the dwarves—and Durhu, I guess—found a way to fake a convincing shoulder brand. The tricky part is getting it to stay on. Even the best glue has problems working on skin, but this stuff is pretty strong. It should keep for several days, so we can go to the Laentana and blend in.” He removed his hand and inspected his shoulder with a smile, at the same time clearing off his finger in the grass. “How does it look?”
“I would have a hard time telling,” Jaas said truthfully. She hadn’t really studied skin art or scars before coming to the city, so her experience was limited. There were some mages who scribed their spells right into their flesh, but she’d never met any of them.
She obligingly stayed still as he applied the adhesive to her shoulder, and then put on her own fake scar. She appreciated how exactly the hue matched her skin tone. Arico must have helped them with the details. When Nemith was done, she moved her shoulder experimentally. It felt a little tight, but not uncomfortable.
“We’re lucky this is the first New Day in the year,” he continued as he examined the edges. “It’s still chilly, so we won’t need to worry about sweating it off. Even so, we’ll need to be careful not to rub up against anything. If anyone asks, your name is Yaalo and you’re from Telledin patch. I doubt anyone will, though. There will be a great many people there.”
“Every stra’tchi in the city, right?”
Nemith smiled faintly as he stood back to his full height and stretched. “Every adult stra’tchi at least. The opening ritual requires silence, so the children are already being navigated to where the celebrations will happen. Once we’re done, we’ll join them there. This Laentana may be slightly different than usual, though,” he added cryptically. By then it had been almost an hour since Arico’s farewell. Streaks of light were crisscrossing the sky as heralds of the coming dawn.
Despite the lingering chill from the night air, Jaas wasn’t allowed a coat. All she had was a simple brown tunic, cut off at the shoulders. According to Nemith, no one was allowed to wear long sleeves for any New Day party. Apparently it was so that the navigators could tell exactly where people were from, just by seeing the brand on their shoulders. It was a good thing she’d been training with the dwarves so often and so early. She was used to shivering her way through early mornings.
Just like the Ritual of Waters back in Tellek, the villagers here were gathering together and plodding their way towards the nearest thread. Not all of them, though. Several women were staying back and waving goodbye to the rest. Jaas didn’t ask why, but she could see that at least two of them were with child. Perhaps pregnancy and moving through the threads didn’t mix well. According to Arico, infants could go into the threads safely, but they appeared as nothing more than glowing orbs of light once inside. Only when they were old enough to have a sense of self did they appear as anything else.
Jaas and Nemith waited until almost all of them had passed before following, she assumed to minimize the chance of them being noticed as strangers. Eventually they were close enough to the threads to see the navigator.
He was just a kid, really, blinking and bleary-eyed in the dimness. He was keeping an arm through the threads, just as Alzhi had done back in Tellek. He took one glance at their ‘brands’ and extended a hand to them. Nemith took it, still holding onto Jaas, and suddenly they were somewhere else!
The trip had taken no time at all. There had been no empty white room, no window in space to view where they were going, and no indication of what the young man’s internal self looked like. Then Jaas remembered: back at Ritual of Waters, Alzhi hadn’t needed any time to transport stuff through the threads. He’d just touched something and it had vanished. Jaas guessed that if a navigator was connected to two points at once through the threads, instantaneous travel was just a normality.
Looking back, Jaas was amused to see the young navigator’s arm just hanging out of thin air after Nemith let go of it. His wasn’t the only one, either. All along the east-west threads, people were appearing next to the threads while holding hands with some unseen navigator, and then letting go and leaving the arms just floating there.
As she turned around, the sight of the patch itself was just a bit more impressive. The entire patch seemed to be almost completely clear of buildings. Even the city wall on the far east side had been torn down, and she could see the sky beyond. The hill before them was paved with close-knit cobblestones in a sort of shallow stairway. The stairs sloped downwards towards the coming sunrise, but not too steeply. And congregating on those cobblestones, slowly and orderly, were thousands—no, tens of thousands—of people.
With a crowd this big, she expected to be deafened by the noise, but there was only a low rumbling of soft voices. Perhaps it was because of how early it was, or maybe it was the solemn nature of whatever ritual they were about to start. Just as Nemith had said, no one younger than twelve or thirteen could be seen at all. There was an unusual concentration of people at the back of the crowd, towards the west end of the patch. Jaas steered her way in that direction to get a better look, and Nemith followed closely.
It was Sabra!
He was just standing there a few spans from the western edge, surrounded by nervous-looking Sustained guards. Apparently the myth surrounding him had spread far and wide, because people all around him were whispering to each other about the Deathwatch Monster. As Jaas watched, Sabra flicked the end of his hair at a passing woman, causing her to jump and flinch away from him. He laughed, and the guards all clenched their weapons in response.
