X
AFTER finishing his third day of cutting wood, Gamwyn, fagged out, sought the far corner of the smokehouse. He found that the drugged smoke lay thinnest there. By digging his face down into the malodorous straw, he could avoid most of its effect.
Another man was in Gamwyn’s usual place, so he lay nearby, bone tired, only to have the man slide over to him and catch his arm in a tight grip.
“You. You’re the one they call Peshtak. What is this? You’re no more Peshtak than a squirrel.”
“Who are you?”
“You answer quick.” The man shook Gamwyn, who deftly caught his fingers and twisted them back in an excruciating hold. The man swung close and clamped the boy’s neck, but Gamwyn tightened and bent, and with a low moan the man let go and writhed back.
Gamwyn eased his grip. “Who are you?”
The man spat at him. Gamwyn wrenched his hand again and the man screamed. Several of the others sat up and gazed at them. Gamwyn and the man lay quiet.
“Who are you?” Gamwyn repeated. “You must be the Peshtak that Nicfad ranted on about. What’s your name?”
“I will say when you identify yourself.”
Gamwyn sighed. “I’m Gamwyn, a Pelbar from Threerivers. But to them I’m a Peshtak. That’s what they assumed. They said they’d cut off my foot unless I admitted it Naturally I did.”
The man chuckled. “A Pelbar. Who would have thought to meet a hog-sucking Pelbar here?”
“Your name?”
“Even Peshtak have names. This time I’ll break your hand. You’ll have great fun working with a broken hand.”
“Syle. I am Syle. Now. Let go.” Gamwyn did. “Now I can tell the fish-gut Tusco you lied. You owe me. See? You won’t get any sucker grips on me anymore.”
“You’ll tell the Tusco? I’ll just say you want to deceive them. They absolutely know I’m a Peshtak. Look, why be enemies? We both need to get out. Right? Why not join together?”
“Join? With a Pelbar woman-slave?”
“Do you know Misque?”
“Misque? Where did you meet her?”
“Jaiyan’s Station. I figured out she was Peshtak.”
“And you told.”
“No. She saved my life. We hugged good-bye.”
“Faaaugh.”
“I know I can’t trust you. Too far, anyhow. But I’ll swear to you by Aven now that I won’t betray you—and if I find a way out, you’ll be the first to hear of it.”
“There is no way. No way at all. It’s the dogs and the patrols. You could get out, but you wouldn’t get away. The Nicfad are too good. Swill faces. They’d even find Peshtak. I’d like to see them, though, run across a good force of us. We’d skewer them all.”
“There must be a way. Craydor would say it’s a matter of design. Their whole society is a design—a very bad one. It’s effective enough for the managers. But it has its flaws. It’s got to. We only need to find them.”
The two talked the whole time they lay under the smoke. Gamwyn learned that Syle was only eighteen. He had come from the mountains. He was also in despair. He had the usual guile and hatreds of the Peshtak, but his youthful anguish continually seeped around the edges of his bravado. The Peshtak roamed freely in the high forests, and the plodding life of slavery grated him terribly.
The signal for supper sounded, and as they crawled out toward the door, Gamwyn whispered, “Do you have the disease?”
Syle shot him a hard look, his jaw rippling. But he said, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
A few days later, a Nicfad again hooked Gamwyn’s collar with his stave and led him toward the circles. The boy looked back at Syle, who was watching. The Nicfad said nothing, but marched him up into the innermost circle where a well lay, surrounded by square stone steps.
“Here. This the smallest one. He will go down,” the Nicfad said to the circle of brown-clad workmen who stood around with stones and tools. The Nicfad threw the boy down with his staff and stood aside.
The workleader squatted down to him and turned his head. “This sapling?” he asked.
“He only small one. He Peshtak.”
The man looked up. “Peshtak? Suffering catfish.” Then he turned to Gamwyn and said, “This well fell in, boy. We need small person to go down and dig it out. Then we stone it.”
Gamwyn was sent down a ladder into the caved-in well. He spent the day sending buckets of dirt and mud up the rope to the workmen above. They berated him for slowness, while he shivered and slipped in the semidark of the shaft. The whole structure stood in danger of caving in on him, and after much complaining he got them to brace it crosswise with sticks and rough boards, even though this slowed the work. At nightfall he came up, filthy and shivering. As he stood by the hole for a few moments, he looked up again. The pudgy girl was at her window looking down at him. He looked away carefully, but then let his eyes go back. She made a face and slammed the window again.
Gamwyn was not allowed to wash. Wet and shivering, he was led back to the compound. That evening, as he lay under the smoke near Syle, he said, “Now I know how to get out.”
The young Peshtak rolled near him. “Out?”
“It’ll take a long time. Maybe a year.”
Syle muttered, “Bull dung.”
“But no Nicfad will follow us. We’ll be free.”
“How?”
“You won’t tell?”
“Tell? Who?”
“Them. You’re Peshtak. I know you’d as soon see us all dead.”
“Then don’t tell me. Get away from me. Child. You’re all mud.”
They lay apart. Gamwyn suddenly began to cry. “It’s all so miserable,” he said.
“Curse you, tell me. I won’t tell. I’ll help. I swear it. I don’t want to be here any more than you. Stop blubbering.”
“Who is Aven?”
“Aven is God, as some other people call him.”
“There is no God.” They lay quiet again. Then Syle said, “I swear. I swear by Aven. Tell me.”
“The well. The whole circle area does not rest on bedrock. All those buildings lie on dirt.”
“I don’t see—”
“Listen. I know about these things. Threerivers is by the Heart. But Craydor put it on bedrock so the river can’t wash it away. The well caved in because the river really seeps through underneath—some, anyway. I noticed when I came up that the water level below is almost the same as river level. The walls are caving in because the whole thing is wet and unstable.”
“So? How does that help us?”
“We go to the downriver side. At night. We get out over the palisade. Or under. There aren’t any guard towers at the tip of the U because the Siveri slaves don’t swim. We get under that boat landing and begin digging. We can put the dirt in the river. Only a few arms every night. We hide the entrance. The whole space between the rivers is only about a hundred fifty arms wide. We brace the tunnel. We use driftwood if we can. We put it all just above normal water level. We take it right under the tower. But we don’t break through. The first big rise when we are done, and the river will break through. The whole center will end up in the river. It’ll be the river.”
Syle laughed. “You’re crazy. That would take a lifetime.” Then he fell silent. “It’s too cold.”
“It’ll warm. Why do you suppose the river slices in? It is trying to cut off. You’ve seen bow lakes, haven’t you? They are old river bends. We’ll just help it.”
“It seems impossible.”
“Maybe. But I’m going to do it. Can we trust any of these Siveri?”
“No. They’re completely enslaved by the smoke. You are, too, a little. So am I. I saw the Nicfad putting the weed in the stew.”
“River snakes! Where do they keep it?”
“Ours? In the guard towers.”
“We need to turn it on them. Mix oak leaves with it. Substitute oak leaves for it. Get it into their food.”
“You’re crazy. That is impossible. One old man brings it for the fire. You watch him hurry. He can’t wait to get it lit and smell the first smoke.”
“Then we intimidate him. Are the Siveri superstitious?”
“Yes, a little. They won’t cross water without mumbling something. They hold their fingers crossways when they are out in a full moon.”
“The Tusco are superstitious, too. Maybe we can use that.”
The Nicfad called them to eat, and the two separated. The next day, they had no chance to talk at the morning smoking, and Gamwyn was again led off to the well and had to work most of the day up to his shoulders in mud and water, so thoroughly chilled that he had to move continually to keep from going wholly numb. Eventually they began sending shaped stones down to him, and he set them in rings to hold the walls, even ducking under the water to do it. When they brought him up, he fell and lay shivering uncontrollably. The Nicfad reached out with the staff to jerk him upright, but the workleader touched his arm.
“Easy,” he said. “He has to stay alive to go down tomorrow. He’s the only one small enough.” The man got a dirty old blanket and put it around Gamwyn, lifting him up. “Bring it back tomorrow,” he said.
Gamwyn staggered and fell again, but two workmen lifted him up and supported him. Glancing up, the boy saw the girl again, in her window, her hands held over her mouth. The men led him all the way to the gate of the slave compound, supporting him, then turned back. Gamwyn fell again.
The Nicfad kicked him. “Don’t expect help from me,” he said. Gamwyn rolled over and stood up, heading for the smokehouse, trying not to fall.
Syle was waiting for him and led him to the corner. Gamwyn shook so he could hardly talk, and the Peshtak wrapped them both in the blanket and tried to warm him despite the mud all over him. He dragged an old Siveri over to the other side and held Gamwyn between them. Gradually the boy began to warm, but they were called to supper before he felt at all normal. Syle stayed with him and led him to his own hut, covering them with his own blanket. He said little. Gamwyn finally fell asleep, with the Peshtak’s arm still over him.
In the morning he felt weak and strange, but the Nicfad again came for him, and he had to go to the well, clutching the blanket. At the lip of the well, he said, “I can’t go down again.” The Nicfad rapped him on the ear with the stave, knocking him down.
“If you kill him now, we’ll never get well stoned,” said the workleader. Again he knelt by Gamwyn. “Come on, boy. You should finish today.”
Gamwyn turned over and felt a flow of anger rise in him that he had never had before. “You may take the well and rot in it,” he hissed. “It would take a Tusco to put a well in the middle of this sewer you call a society. May you drink from the river downstream.”
The man stood and stepped back, spitting. He turned to the Nicfad, who stooped and twisted Gamwyn’s arm back and around. The boy! screamed. “Now? Get busy now?”
“Yes. Yes, I will,” Gamwyn said, sobbing. The man stood away, and Gamwyn crawled to the ladder and began his descent, shuddering again as he reached the water. The stones began to come down in buckets, and he placed them carefully in rings working up. By midafternoon he had reached the top. It had begun to rain. He crawled away from the well platform and lay face down on the cobbled street. He felt the Nicfad’s stave, hook slip into his collar. The man began to drag him away.
From above a shriek tore the air. Gamwyn felt the pressure ease. He heard a high voice from high up. “You. You workman. You nearly killed him. Now you take him home. You—Nicfad. Get away, vulture. Stupid. Look at him. He has years of work left in him. You kill him now? Stupid.”
“It not done. He—”
“You do it or you hear from Committee.”
“You out of order. You not speak for Committee.”
“Do it,” the voice screamed again. From below there was silence. The workleader rolled Gamwyn over on his back. Looking up, the dazed boy saw the pudgy girl in the window staring down.
“All right. It on your head, not mine,” the man said. Gamwyn felt arms lifting him and dragging him through the gate to the middle circle, then into the darkness of one of the houses. He felt hands moving over him, roughly scrubbing him dry, rolling him into a blanket in a corner padded with sacks of something like grass. Something hot came to his mouth. He felt himself cradled against a woman, her cloth-swathed ample softness against his cheek. Again the warm drink came. And again. He knew little else but was vaguely aware of arguing. But Gamwyn’s mind whirled and sank. He no longer cared about anything. The woman’s voice scolded and chided, but her warm hands arranged things around him and placed everything just right.
“Mother? Mother?” Gamwyn asked vaguely.
“No. Not your mother, you piece of dirt. We forced. Lie still. You get well.”
“Piece? Piece of dirt?” Gamwyn said absently, then everything faded to black.
When he finally awoke, he looked up at a round, middle-aged woman’s face, her hair straying, her eyes fixed on his. “There. Finally you wake up. Four days. It four days you lie here. A log. Now I demand you work for me to make it up. Four days.”
“Mother? Mother?”
The woman shook him, then wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. Gamwyn felt the warm drink come to his mouth again, and he took it gratefully in long swallows, finally gasping, “Four days? I’m sorry. I have been much trouble.” Again he felt a total misery and began to cry. The woman held his head against her, spitting softly to her husband, who sat across the room sharpening a tool. “Look at this. Mere boy. Weak. Poor Peshtak spy cries for his mother. What this, anyway? Committee girl looking in all time. Nothing right. Why you not make well right first time, anyway?”
“It old well, Maatha. Too bad it not summer. Couldn’t wait.”
The door opened, and the pudgy girl entered. She was richly dressed in fine cloth, a sweeping tunic reaching to her calves, with high boots. The two stood, hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed.
“He awake now. You send him back? You satisfied, I hope.”
The girl glared, then said, “Leave me with him. He too weak to hurt me. Wait outside.”
The two went reluctantly. As Maatha went out the door, she poked her head back in and said, “He just woke. He needs to sleep again soon. Not ready to go back yet. Soon enough.”
The girl turned toward the door but said nothing. After it closed, she stood close, looking down at Gamwyn. “You, Peshtak spy. What your name?”
“Gamwyn.”
“Slave Gamwyn. What kind of name that?”
“The one my mother gave me. It’s an old one in the family.”
“You talk oddly. Strange words. Extra words.”
“Thank you. I would have been dead but for you.” Gamwyn’s mind suddenly became clear for the first time in days. “If you hadn’t stopped them, they would have killed me or let me die.”
“You have many years of hard work left in you. Not very intelligent to let you die.”
“You believe that, don’t you—all this rot about making people slaves and working them until they die.”
She snorted. “It scientifically designed society. Committee worked it all out. It functions beautifully. All needs taken care of. Better for you to serve such society than useless,”
Gamwyn suddenly was tired of the conversation. He turned on his side. He felt her boot reach out to turn him on his back again. “Go away,” he said. “There is no use trying to reason with you. Your mind is closed to truth and justice, except what is good for you.”
“Truth? Justice? You spy say that? Peshtak? We hear about you.”
“What’s your name?”
She flounced toward the door, then turned. “Slaves do not ask names of Committee. You work. You not understand much.”
Suddenly she came back and knelt down by him. He felt her warm breath reach down to him as she kissed bis cheek. “You beautiful,” she whispered.
Gamwyn reeled in bewilderment. He did nothing as she cradled his head against her. Abruptly she stood up again.
“Insult me! After all I do!”
“Please,” Gamwyn said. “I don’t mean to insult you. I don’t know what to do. Want me to kiss you back? Me? A slave, worthy of working my life away, beaten and herded by those black-bodied beasts of yours, treated with the utmost cruelty, given nothing, no music, no reading, no kindness, all in the ugliest of societies, without a concept of decency, of worship, with no breadth of vision or depth of perception, a society without real purpose, a surface manipulation of bestiality?”
The girl stood stupefied. “Where you learn to talk like that?”
“At home, of course.”
Gamwyn watched the girl’s eyes dart around the room. Something was sinking in. She reached for the door latch. “I Daw,” she said. “Daw, daughter of Central Committee chairman. Good-bye.” She left immediately, slamming the door. The workleader and his wife reentered, then stood looking at Gamwyn. Their eyes touched, and all registered bewilderment.
Then a Nicfad entered without knocking. He wore the white stripe on his hat and back, the mark of an officer. He strode over to Gamwyn, glared down at him, and spat. Then he whirled to face the workleader.
“Ahks,” he said. “You will complain to Central Committee about this. In your own name. Not mine. That understood?”
“I? I have no…. boy—”
“You will. This out of order. We cannot have dripping-heart girls interfering with order.” A knife snicked out from his belt. He waved it in front of the man’s face. “Understood? Immediately.” The man nodded. The Nicfad slammed him against the wall and left.
The woman began to cry. “It wrong. Now all go wrong. We between Committee and Nicfad. All wrong.”
The two held each other. “No hope for it,” the man said. “I’ll go now. They watching for sure.” He left, and the woman walked to Gamwyn and stared down at him. “You trouble. Trouble from start.” Then she reached down and straightened the blanket over him, smoothing it.
The next morning, Gamwyn felt even stronger. He was sitting up sipping the last of a bowl of stew when the door opened and three Nicfad entered. The white stripe announced, “Central Committee hear your complaint now. Come. Bring slave.” The man and his wife exchanged glances. One Nicfad strode to Gamwyn and snatched him upright, then hurled him toward the door. He staggered and emerged. The cobbled circle was scattered with people watching in silence. They walked rapidly in through the circle of the bureaucrats’ houses and on across to a door in the tower. Gamwyn, glancing up, saw it was surmounted by seven white skulls fastened to the lintel. The Nicfad shoved Gamwyn inside, and the group, joined by four other Nicfad, tramped down a corridor and through a wide door. Gamwyn noticed that all the construction appeared to be of wood, with stone pavement.
They emerged into a large room, and Ganiwyn faced a dais at which seven people—hooded so that their faces were completely shrouded—sat at a long desk. A human skull stood upright, affixed to each end of the desk. Opposite the long desk were tiered seats, in which a scattering of people sat stiffly with hands folded. Gamwyn was thrust into a seat at a small table next to an old woman, who turned to him and whispered. “I your counsel, I will speak for you to Central Committee.”
“I… I… ”
“Silence,” a Nicfad commanded. Then he continued, “Workleader Ahks has brought complaint. He has had to care for recalcitrant slave in his own quarters at behest of Daw, daughter of Central Committee. He wishes ruling from Committee on this.”
The hoods leaned together briefly and conferred. One hood leaned forward and asked, “What says defense?”
The old woman stood, clutching the table. “The boy begs pardon for his recalcitrance. Says fatigue from work on well caused insanity, Wishes to return to slave camp and serve faithfully. Says Daw not at fault. All fault his. Says he will take beating from Nicfad to compensate. Says to thank Ahks and apologize. Says will do extra duty for Ahks to make up for all time necessary.”
The hoods leaned together, and as the woman sat, Gamwyn looked at her with amazement. “Are you crazy?” he whispered. “What is this? I have—”
“Silence,” she hissed. “It formality to please Nicfad. Let alone. You want Daw in trouble?”
“Daw? The girl? You do this for her, then. Oh. No, I would be dead but for her. No.”
The hoods leaned apart again. “What says Nicfad-leader?” asked the one in the center.
A man with two stripes down the back of his leather clothing stood. “Respected Committee, we must agree with complaint of workleader. We have difficult task of maintaining order and discipline among working class. We know results of kindness always negative. Know order and strictness always go hand in hand down road of production. Ease brings disorder and loss of production. Brings thoughts of luxury to minds of workers. Social order demands our great watchfulness. Think, with all respect, kindness of Daw to slave misplaced. She still to grow, perhaps, to true views of Committee Statements. Has extended true family affections to unsuitable class. Wish all excused. Agree with Sandra of defense. Glad for agreement of worker.”
Again Gamwyn stared in amazement. Agreement from worker? He? Again the hoods leaned together. Gamwyn turned and saw Daw sitting behind, beside a tall, thin man in gray, in a high collar. Her eyes were red and puffy. She caught his glance and tossed her head slightly in a sneer.
“What says Daw to this?” the central hood then asked.
The tall, thin man rose and said, “Honored Committee and others. Daw expressed great regret for incident but wishes to give her reasoning, which not inappropriate kindness, as alleged, but rather forward-looking economic thought. She observed worker repairing well because of small size on successive days. Observed he young. Observed that cold and water overcame him. Observed proper discipline rightly applied by Nicfad might in this case cost Tusco worker’s life. Urges Committee to think ahead. Suppose worker to last another five years. Urges Committee to think of production of worker in this five years. Have calculated it. In terms of gross product of this year, the amounts to production of about ninety-two ten-hundreds of stones of smoke weed, cultivating of thirty-seven ten-hundreds of standard row crops, nine ten-hundreds of standard basket loads of earth for levee, eight ten-hundreds of loads of quarry rock for bank lining, cutting of two ten-hundreds of standard trees for fuel and walls, in addition to work on food drying and preservation and such. She thought it potential loss to U Bend. Bad to dispose of restorable resource.”
The central hood leaned forward. “But have you thought of cost of maintenance of worker? Surely all you cite not clear profit.”
“Have calculated that in, Central Committee, with respect, and deducted usual twenty-two hundredths for inefficiency. This resource young. If he lasts more than five years, then profits greater.”
“That all statement of Daw?”
“Yes, Central Committee. That all.”
Again the heads leaned together. They muttered for a long time. At last the central hood rocked back and announced, “Here our judgment. We appreciate action of Ahks in bringing matter to our attention. Appreciate judgment of Nicfad in maintaining order so necessary for our community. Appreciate forward-looking calculations of Daw. Inclined to forgive worker his recalcitrance on grounds of conditions. We reassigning workleader Ahks to reward his alertness to head wood project in south swamp. Much responsibility. Ask Nicfad to forgo beating if worker complies—on grounds of loss to production. Wish to reward Nicfad for continued vigilance by additional allotment of service badges when trade allows. Committee stands adjourned.
“But while here, and for benefit of worker, who I understand new to us, I wish to make statement. We engaged here in scientific restoration of ordered society after shattering in ancient times. We split from Alats, who became corrupt, centuries ago, before their current decadent phase. Eventually, they will stagger to their fall. We will reconstitute them. We will spread north, then, carrying our ordered social system, with its balance of parts and assignment of tasks, its perfect state organization without messy individual wastes of effort, directionless and erring. We bound to do this by destiny and laws of history.
“If small adjustments like this necessary, then Committee glad to make them. Now it duty of each section of society to return to right place, give gratefully for good of whole.” He paused and took a sip of some liquid from a jeweled metal goblet. “All must contribute willingly and with good heart. We insist on this. If sacrifice necessary, then sacrifice will have to occur. That all. Ask worker to stay for special counsel.” The central hood then commanded the Nicfad to bind Gamwyn’s arms behind him.
Gamwyn stood as the Nicfad lifted him up. Then the Central Committee left, all but the middle hood. Sandra also remained. Gamwyn turned and saw Daw leaving on the arm of the tall man. Finally the doors closed. The hood leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. Gamwyn caught the gleam of a ring with a stone in it.
“You should not punish Ahks,” Gamwyn said. “The south swamp? He did the least wrong of all. He only did what Daw said.”
The hooded man leaned forward. “You judge then? You, who got off so lightly, got off with nothing? All because of my crying daughter, who would give me no peace if you harmed? Now I undergo suspicion of Nicfad for that, all for you—slave.”
“I thought you were the head.”
“They arms, and in arms weapons. Who you, anyway? You Peshtak spy?”
Gamwyn paused. Was this a trap? “I am whoever you wish me to be. I don’t want to lose a foot.”
The man reached up and flipped back his hood, revealing a cherubic face, balding and ruddy. He smiled. “You not lose foot. Just tell me. I need to know these things in my own city. Important. We care for needs of all.”
Gamwyn didn’t know what to say to that. He turned to the old woman and said, “Woman with the ancient name, what is to be said to that?”
“Tell him truth about yourself.”
“Truth? What do you people know about truth? You make it whatever you wish it to be. You are without pity, without freedom, without real justice.”
The cherubic face frowned. “Truth? Central Committee truth, boy. If you tell your friends anything, tell that. That truth. What Central Committee decides becomes truth.” He reached out a hand toward the skull on the left corner of the desk. “See him? That what remains of Ollo, former Central Committee. He still with us. Case of his skull held truth. Now case of mine holds it. Eventually I too will grace tower, looking out over our country, and another skull will hold truth. That truth.”
Gamwyn looked at the man, then at the skull. “That’s only the empty shell where a man was,” he said. “He held thoughts, not truth. I’m only a boy, but I know enough to know that truth is more difficult than that. I have heard it said that ‘truth is often beyond the reach of men because too pure for their self-interest, too permanent for their immediate demands, too difficult for their desires to struggle with. The approach of truth demands self-sacrifice, forbearance, forgiveness, an outreach of the heart and mind beyond all concerns even of the common good to the windless country beyond the stars.’”
The cherubic man drew back and frowned. Then he stared at Gamwyn and smiled again. “Only shell? Ollo only shell? Shells may contain in themselves same perfection of plan our society has. We have collection of shells here, many brought from sea. If you not slave, might show them to you.” The man watched Gamwyn narrowly and saw him start slightly. The boy dropped his eyes.
The man folded his thick hands again. “You not Peshtak. You Pelbar. I learned this from Daw’s account of what you say. Now I know she right. What you doing here? Why you tell them you Peshtak?”
Gamwyn looked up, stunned. He had talked too much. “I didn’t tell them I was Peshtak until they said they would cut my foot off unless I admitted it. I am here because I was cast out by my people. If you know about the Pelbar, you know about that.”
The man looked at Sandra. “I told you this trouble,” she said. “They now allied to Sentani. What if they find we have him?”
The man shook his head. “No. They not find out. If they do, they not care. Pelbar not come here. He will fit in. You heard production figures. He may live beyond five years; then we gain even more. But for now he works only in slave compound. For at least year. We want no more contact with Daw. The silly girl. Need to instruct her slowly to correct views.”
He turned to Gamwyn. “You, boy. You cause more trouble than you worth. Pelbar. Interesting. Woman-ruled. Another decadence. It all will pass. History commands Tusco will rule all.”
Gamwyn looked up at him, thinking, Right now the river water is seeking a way under us, eating and flowing, and all your rock facing on the river bank will never stop it.
The Central Committee rang a bell, and a Nicfad entered with his staff. “It satisfactory. Untie him,” the Central Committee chairman said. “For Sandra’s sake, take him out by museum. See if he can read ancient writing. Then confine him to slave compound as agreed. Do not harm unduly.”
Gamwyn was marched out a different way, through a series of corridors to a room full of strange objects, some from the ancient world. He was led to two small scraps of brownish paper with printing on them. The Nicfad brought a lamp, and Sandra fixed her eyes on him. “Read them,” she said. She held a long stick and a knife to notch it with.
The first scrap was only a fragment. Gamwyn read, “Exclusions: This endorsement does not apply (a) to any loss arising out of the issuance … appropriation of any credit card in the … or the commercial pursuits of the insured, or (b) to any loss caused…”
Sandra notched her stick conscientiously, though they both knew it useless.
The other scrap was small and carefully cut out. In very faint ink someone had drawn a square around some of the writing. Gamwyn stared at it a long time. “Read,” Sandra said. The Nicfad took his arm in a tight grip. The old woman frowned and removed his hand.
Gamwyn sighed. “I don’t understand it all. This first word above the inked square, for example. The second is ‘there.’ Then this number is a nine. Then it says, ‘If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea’; then this is a ten. Then it says, ‘Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.’ Then this is an eleven, but that is all.”
“ ‘Thy’? What is ‘thy’?”
“I don’t know, but it must be an ancient word for ‘your.’”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know. It seems of little importance.” But Gamwyn knew it was a reference to Aven. He had leaned over the scrap furiously memorizing it. He had it now. It was ancient scripture, even here in the middle of this slave community.
“You do know,” Sandra said, shaking him.
“It means nothing.” The Nicfad took his arm and began to bend it. “It is only a reference to Aven, whom some societies call God. I know you have rejected him as a falsity. So you see, it means nothing.”
The old woman looked at him steadily. “God,” she said. “That all?”
“Yes. That all.”
Sandra snorted and turned away, saying over her shoulder, “Nicfad, take him.”
The man hooked his stave in Gamwyn’s collar and led him out, throwing him down several times before they reached the open. Then he led him through the circles and back to the slave compound. Once inside, he took him to a guard tower and hurled him through the door. Gamwyn sprawled on the floor at the boots of another Nicfad. The man raised his boot and set it slowly down on the boy’s hand. Then he put his other boot on Gamwyn’s, other hand.
“You trouble,” he said. “One more birdsqueak out of you and you will fry, Peshtak.”
Gamwyn squeezed his eyes against the pain, gasping, “Yes. Yes, I understand.”
The Nicfad let him up, then shook him. “You stay in compound. Don’t worry. We find plenty for you to do. Come here in morning. Now go. Time for smoke.”
Gamwyn found Syle astonished to see him. They had all assumed he was dead. In low voices they discussed all that had happened. Gamwyn kept nothing from him. “They’re all crazy—staring mad,” he finally said in summary.
Syle beckoned a young Siveri nearby, and the man rolled over. “This is Nim. The Nicfad brought in nine more Siveri while you were away. We’ve been talking. I’ve got them to resist breathing in the smoke. We’ve made progress. We found a way out, by digging under the boards in the gang privy and out through the levee.”
“You can’t do that,” Gamwyn said.
“Can’t? Why?”
“When the river comes up it will flood the compound.”
“Oh. When is that?”
“If it rises, it will be in the fourth or fifth month, when the snow has melted in the north. It all depends on rain and how much snow there was.”
“Then we have time. We’ll fill the hole again and find another way when the time comes. We’re already almost fifteen arms into the bank behind a large stone under the boat landing. Hog snouts. We’re digging.”
Gamwyn whistled low.
“I’ve learned something else. Almost all the Nicfad smoke the leaves. They take it from the guard tower supply. They really keep a lax watch. They depend on their dogs if anybody gets away—and they depend on the passiveness of the Siveri.”
Nim snorted slightly. “They ain’t all passive. You don’t know. Not now, anyways. We got them busy, them we can trust. Just disrupting.”
“Don’t do too much,” Gamwyn said. “It’ll alert them.”
“Nope. Just catchin’ mice and lettin’ them loose in the food barn. Just grindin’ crystals into the dog meat when we can.”
“You get to the dog meat?”
“One does. Yeah.”
“Are the May apples up yet?”
“Just comin’ a little. You mean mix some root in? They might catch us.”
“They might. But we could kill one. Maybe the best dog.”
Nim chuckled. The signal for supper came.
Meanwhile, at Threerivers, Udge stood in the Broad Tower, hands clasped behind her. All in all, she was satisfied. She retreated into her inner room as the workmen repaired the damage to her rooms from the fire set during Brudoer’s punishment. But four nights had passed, and so far no violence had occurred. Perhaps it was all talk. Perhaps the boy had finally offended everyone and they no longer cared. Perhaps Bival had been right in insisting that Pion be beaten in place of his son. As the early light grew, the Protector stretched and yawned. A light knock came at the door. The sand clock had it still early. Udge frowned. “Come in,” she said.
Cilia entered and bowed. “Protector,” she said. Her face was pale.
Udge was instantly alert. “What? Something has happened.”
“The men. Most of the men are gone. About a hundred, including at least half the male guardsmen. There are hardly any left.”
Udge drew in her breath. “The other guardsmen. Are they following?”
“They’re awaiting your orders, Protector. They are sure to be far outnumbered. All the longbows are gone. The shortbows that are not taken have almost all been destroyed. If the inside guard were to go, it would leave the city unprotected.”
Udge sat down. “Is that all?”
“No, Protector. Some of the women and children have gone with the men. We haven’t counted, but we think well over a hundred people left last night.”
“I—I wouldn’t have thought that of the guard.”
“No, Protector. Apparently, though, a number were convinced by the bracelet.”
“If you only hadn’t read that inscription. That was stupid.”
“I thought we agreed to. Besides, the guardsman that gave it to me saw it. Your lie was quite transparent to the others.”
Udge’s anger flared, but she saw only the compliant Cilia’s worried face. She put her hands over her eyes, then looked up again. “Well, the city itself is impregnable, even with only a few. Call a council meeting for high sun. Bring the boy to it. We’ll settle this once and for all.”
Far below them, Brudoer was studying the cell desperately. He couldn’t hope to hold off a hostile assault for long. He had to find the secret of the cell, or else find a way to get out. He had tapped on all the stones with the mussel-shell frieze, but none rang hollow. He sat back again. It was strange. The stones seemed arranged in a large diamond pattern, like the small ones in the previous cells, and one diamond seemed slightly darker. The bottom stone was a part of the mussel frieze. It too was darker. In an eyeblink, he saw it—if that stone were removed, the whole wall might come down. He went to it and pried in the crack with his spoon. It moved.
Then he looked again. If the wall came down, that would damage the city, opening a whole side, perhaps. That was too severe. With the present turmoil, it would, leave them unprotected. Maybe that wouldn’t happen. Brudoer touched the stone above and to the left. Perhaps if that one wasn’t intertied, he could remove it and study the mussel stone. It seemed solid. He threw his weight against it, and it slid inward easily. Brudoer found he couldn’t slide it back. It was square and flat and would have to be pushed from the other side. He pushed it farther and wormed into the opening. He was in a hollow in the wall, and a tiny upper opening admitted a whisker-narrow shaft of light.
Turning, Brudoer studied the stone he had first worked on, slowly realizing that the whole wall would not have come down, for it was intertied from the rear. But the large stone above would have caused a collapse. From his new vantage Brudoer could see it was a familiar wall trap design of the sort used to protect Pelbar cities from infiltration. It would have killed him if he had been willing to bring the wall down. Brudoer felt sweat bead on his forehead. At that moment he head voices. Quickly he moved the stone back into place with the iron handle on its back side. Was he free? He wasn’t sure. At least he was out of the cell.
If they came for him, they would never find him now. Where that got him, he wasn’t sure, but as he turned to look around, he realized that he was in a passageway leading upward—stairs. He turned and groped his way up inside the great walls of the tall city.
When the full council gathered, the usual buzz of talk was wholly absent. Silence dripped from the walls. Udge was very uneasy. After opening the meeting with a cursory prayer, she announced, “As far as we know now, a hundred and eleven people have gone. This includes ninety-three males and eighteen women and girls. Remaining in the city are thirty-four males, mostly old or boys, and two hundred thirty-two women. The guardsmen have informed me that the boy, Brudoer, has gone as well.”
“Protector, I saw him in his cell early this morning.”
Udge turned to the guardsman and raised her eyebrows, then turned back. “The boy is not in his cell. Now that the cancer is out of the city, perhaps we can begin again. We will need to reassign the work. We need not worry. The city is impregnable. Pelbarigan itself cannot interfere with us because they could never get in. Any Peshtak in the area cannot, either. We will have to work hard. Very hard. Women will have to do the menial work of the males until we can raise more. The quadrant counsels will have to assume much authority. In this regard I am announcing, in this emergency, that I am substituting Dardan for Bival as Southcounsel for obvious reasons. Bival’s talents lie elsewhere. Perhaps we are in crisis, but we are also purified and can start over. The vision of Craydor will not be dimmed. This is only a clearing of the eye. We—”
“It is a gouging out of the eye,” the Ardena said. “Your policies have finally wrecked the city, and you sit there bragging about it.”
Udge turned, raising her eyebrows. “Were you addressing me?”
“Obviously.”
“Use the proper form or be removed.”
“The proper form? Yes. Of course. Destroyer of Three-rivers. It is like you. The proper form indeed.”
“I see no danger to the city, no destruction. Only some trash removed from it. Now, guardsmen, take her from the chamber. We are orderly here.”
Two guardsmen moved alongside the Ardena and lifted her, as she shouted, “That’s like you, Destroyer. You see no damage to the city because a city is stones to you. It isn’t people. What is a city with no people? A ruin. What are people with no city? They are still people, the essence of the whole thing. You and these blind cave crickets will have this place empty and—”
The guardsmen carried her around the corner beyond the Judgment Room. Bival rose and followed her.
“Bival,” Udge said. “I don’t recall adjourning.”
“I have adjourned myself, Protector. It makes no difference. I am not on the council anymore.”
“Return and sit.”
“No. The Ardena is right. I should have seen it. You are set on a course to destroy Threerivers.”
“Guardsmen, remove her and place her in the first cell.” A murmur arose in the room. A guardsman followed Bival and took her arm. She did not resist.
Again the Judgment Room fell to silence. Udge said nothing for a time. Finally Cilia rose and said, “Protector.” “Yes.”
“Might I suggest that we adjourn now? We can plan a division of work more easily in the smaller group of the inner council, assigning some to the cleaning, some to planting, some to the lifting of the water, some to the bees, some to the stores, some to textiles, some to preparation for trade.” It was clear to all that this is what Udge had asked Cilia to say.
One family head, trembling with age, stood and said, “But Protector, many of us know nothing of these things. We have always managed. These are lowly things. You must arrange our city so the changes will not be too harsh.”
“Of course, Geryana. We will consult with great care. Now, this meeting stands adjourned.” The remaining guardsman thumped her long-sword, and all rose to leave.