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Part 46 - Same As the Old Boss
🕑 Added 2020-09-16 16:00:00 +0000 UTC
We have forged the blade, plucked it from its shining alcove in our mind and made it real. But the prism is imperfect. Has been made imperfect. The distortion imparts perspective, the mark upon the window shows that there is glass - and therein we see the flaws cascading outward. Our relentless zeal cannot divert us now that it has been tricked into satisfaction, and all that we have left is the cold comfort that this monstrosity we have birthed will take only the lives of the guilty.
- Opening words from the suicide note of Goresje Di Sazhocel Selyta, Royal Archives, Ce Raedhil.
---
The camp by the shore was expansive and messy, sprawling across a broad open area at the center of town. There was a clear delineation between the ramshackle, patched-over structures left over from the previous leader’s tenure and the freshly-raised utilitarian outbuildings that came after the handover. Tesvaji swept an arm at the new construction, shaking his head.
“It was barely a campsite when we came here, save for the place where Vago and his men slept.” He nodded toward a sprawling, lumpen shack with layers of scrap metal stretched over the roof - sturdier than the rest, undoubtedly, but still no prize. “They had been here for quite some time, but never thought to improve past the basics of survival.
“I take it Vago was the guy in charge before you got here,” Mark said. “Su had some things to say about him, most of them not nice. He, ah, said you stuck his head on a pole?”
Tesvaji grunted a brief affirmative, raising an eyebrow at Mark’s tone. “You disapprove?”
“Nah, it sounds like he had it coming,” Mark replied. “Just makes me a little more curious to hear your story, since we fought some pretty bad dudes with you before and they just got buried.”
There were a few beats of silence while Tesvaji cast a long look back at the center of camp. “Vago was Aedrem,” he said eventually. “Although most thought him lost a long while ago. I remember seeing his face at a gathering of the Madim. His family had a reputation of breaking agreements, ranging outside their territory with impunity.” He shook his head. “Not long after that meeting the Madim drove them from their lands. Now we know where at least one of them wandered to.”
Tesvaji sighed and rubbed absently at the stump of his finger. “But however far he may have ranged, he was Aedrem,” he said. “As are we, now, since we have no cerein to call our own. For the Cereinem, if one wishes to be Madi he should make a home under the cerein, provide for the needy, defend the weak, things that the Cereinem respect. Since I found myself in a position to be Madi of an Aedrem camp, however, succession proceeded in the Aedrem manner.”
“Huh,” Mark said. “So, what - single combat? One-on-one, winner gets the job?”
“That is how it goes much of the time,” Tesvaji confirmed. “Normally, as when passing leadership from father to son, there will be a contest that ends with the current Madi receiving a token wound and yielding the position.” He shook his head. “This was not that sort of fight. I came with a small group of men to negotiate use of their territory once we saw the ruins were occupied, but he took our presence as a threat and attacked almost as soon as we arrived.”
“And whoops, suddenly you’re the guy in charge,” Mark said drily. “It happens. Ask Jesse about it later.”
Tesvaji chuckled, although his smile died well short of his eyes. “In truth, it could have stopped well short of Vago’s death. But when we arrived at his camp and saw the conditions here…” He sighed. “Simply a matter of a few extra blows, and now things are much more pleasant. It is a thin justification for taking a life, but his death will only trouble me on the day I meet someone who mourns him. He was a poor Madi and a worse man. His head was on display as a message for any of his followers still feeling the lure of ambition, and any of his victims who had cause to fear him.”
They arrived at a modest pavilion sited at the camp’s midpoint, one that drew the eye simply because of the sheer amount of foot traffic streaming around it. Carts of supplies, stacks of reclaimed wood and stone, baskets and sacks of food all converged here - and in the eye of this logistical hurricane stood Saneji, emphatically directing traffic until she chanced to spot Gusje approaching.
Several members of the crowd found themselves unceremoniously shoved aside as she hurried to wrap Gusje in a hug, joined shortly by an enthused but sweaty Mevi. When they broke apart all three were grinning widely, although Gusje shortly furrowed her brow and looked around the crowd.
“Zha is with the other children,” Saneji said, answering her unasked question. “I would have brought her if I had known - I didn’t think you would find your way here so soon! You must tell us everything, how did you learn we had traveled here?”
“We had no idea,” Gusje replied, shaking her head. “We were here to try and salvage some scriptwork for-” She blinked, then laughed ruefully. “I don’t even know where to start explaining it.”
Saneji stepped back, seeming to look at Gusje for the first time. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the armor, the gauntlet - and the ineffable changes in her daughter’s eyes, the tilt of her head, the way she carried herself.
“Little flower,” she murmured appreciatively. “I will have to find another name for you, I think.”
“The Aesvain call her - ah!” Mark yelped, receiving a swift kick to the shin before he could finish his sentence.
Gusje glared at him, but received only a grin in response. “You know she’s going to find out anyway,” he pointed out, turning to Saneji. “Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but Tesvaji wants everyone in the tent. I think we’ve all got a lot to catch up on.”
They trailed into the central tent, blinking in surprise at the sudden drop in temperature - a hlanem whirred in the corner, sinking heat faster than the morning sun could pass it through the canvas. After some brief shuffling of boxes to make space they sat around a makeshift table strewn with gear and ledgers. There was a pause while they settled down - Tesvaji and Saneji both seemed as though they had been on their feet without pause for some time, and they took to the low stools appreciatively.
“Will we wait for your Aesvain friend?” Tesvaji asked, taking a small cup of water from Mevi as he walked around the table.
Mark shook his head, taking his own cup. “Ajehet and his men know most of this already,” he said. “Hell, they’ll probably be back any minute now - little bastards are fast when they want to move.”
Tesvaji brought his hands together, then flashed a smile around the table at everyone present. “Then let us begin,” he said. “Water and shelter.” He joined the others in taking a sip of water, then set his cup down on the table and looked expectantly at the new arrivals.
Mark and Jesse exchanged a glance, then looked at Gusje. She blanched, tilting her head at Arjun - who in turn raised an eyebrow and looked back at Mark.
“Well, shoot,” Mark said, scratching his head. “Give me a second to figure out where to start.”
---
The sun had risen high overhead by the time they walked back out of the tent, wincing at the furnace-blast of the desert heat. One of Tesvaji’s lieutenants led the majority of the group to a side tent where they had been collecting salvaged scriptwork, while another went to talk with those residents who had made their living under Vago by salvaging the ruins.
Gusje, however, lingered in the cool dark of the tent, sitting across the table from her parents. “I have seldom heard a story like that one,” Tesvaji remarked, rubbing his jaw. “Much less a true one, and one with my daughter at the fore.” He smiled at her, his eyes practically sparkling in the dark. “And on your first real journey outside of our territory, no less.”
Her father’s praise sent a shiver through her, mixed pride and disquiet. Heartbeats passed as she considered what she could say, finding nothing. “I was-”
She broke off. Her parents looked at her tolerantly, and she knew they would give her as much time as she needed to respond - which lent an unbearable quality to the silence, knowing she would be the one to break it.
Finally, she lifted her head. “I wasn’t ready,” she said hoarsely. “I thought I was capable, but out there I was - lacking.” She pressed her lips together. “Everything I saw shocked me. How people live, how... quickly they die, the cruelty, the disregard. Realizing that on the grand balance, I am a hair’s breadth above absolute powerlessness and insignificance.”
Tesvaji and Saneji exchanged a look. “I yield the point, husband of mine,” Saneji said resignedly. “It was good that she left with those four.”
“You are gracious even in defeat, my beautiful wife,” he said, smiling back at her.
Gusje looked back and forth between them, nonplussed and slightly annoyed at their response to her biting self-assessment. It was apparently evident on her face, because her father grinned all the wider when he turned back to her.
“You’ve been keeping a level head,” he said. “Many who find themselves in conflict start to build a story of themselves, something comforting. They are marked, they are chosen - and then shortly after they begin to think that way, they are also dead. The desert gives a harsh rebuke for even a moment of carelessness.” He waggled his four-fingered hand at her.
She felt a pang in her belly as she looked at it. The sight of her father’s maimed hand was in its way more disturbing than any of the things she had seen in Tinem Sjocel or beyond. “Was it too much for the asolan to heal?” she asked. “I know a hand is too much, but one finger-”
Tesvaji shook his head. “I did not wear my asolan while it was healing,” he said, chuckling softly at the look of horror on her face. “When we came to the camp even the most healthy were unwell. The children were worst off. None could bear to wear their asolamyn while walking past a child it could save, so most of us used ours to help the sick and injured.”
“But you were among the injured!” Gusje insisted. “Surely there were enough that one could be spared for you.”
He nodded. “There were indeed,” he said. “I am the Madi, so I could have kept mine and asked others to give in my place. But I am the Madi - anything I ask of my people, I must first ask of myself.” He shook his head and smiled again at her distress, taking her hand in both of his and pressing her fingers against the bare stump.
“Feel it,” he said quietly. “It is a consequence, a reminder. A lesson taught in the desert way.”
Her fingers flinched at the lumpy, warm skin, but he had her hand firmly. “What lesson?” she asked, not quite successful at keeping a bitter note from her voice. “Would you have forgotten it with ten fingers?”
“I may have,” her father said seriously. “Because part of the lesson is that not every loss can be made right. Not every wound can be closed, not every sick person brought to health. Loss is life, and I had lived too long in the shade of the cerein. I won too many times. I almost forgot the taste of defeat, so I left a little to season my victory this time.” He released her hand, leaning back in his chair. “And as we lay aside our hope of returning home, perhaps that flavor will not be such a shock to my tongue.”
Her insides froze again as she listened, and she felt her heart beating wild in her chest. She had admitted that Ademen Tacen was lost many times when talking to Jackie, but hearing her father say the same words - it hurt. She had always held out some ephemeral hope of a return, regardless of what she said, and as it died-
It tasted bitter.
“Some people destroy themselves over a loss,” Saneji said quietly. “Their focus grows to a point, turned behind them to a thing they can never obtain. It’s a hard lesson for a Madi to learn.” She looked at Tesvaji fondly, taking his hand in hers. “For those with power, knowing when to turn away is always the hardest.”
Her father kissed her mother on the forehead before looking up at her. “So it is,” he said. “Take your lesson to heart, daughter of mine. Of course you found yourself wanting - you walk with travelers from strange lands in the steps of kings and vinesavaim, you uncovered knowledge of our fathers long thought lost to time and circumstance. Would these things be as great as they must be, if you were able to stand before them as one woman and feel yourself their equal?”
“I suppose not,” Gusje allowed, frowning.
“It is good to hold yourself to a high standard,” Saneji said. “But not to perfection.”
Gusje coughed, furrowing her brow. “The circumstances seem to demand it,” she grumbled. “I had no idea what to do most of the time, I relied on Jackie and the others.”
“And they never relied on you?” Tesvaji said, his eyes twinkling once more. “The next time you see Mark, ask him how often he has felt in control since he came to our lands. If I have his measure, you’ll get a very honest answer.”
---
“Fuckin’ never,” Mark said, “did I think that we’d run into these folks here.” He raised an eyebrow at Jesse, who was sitting beside him on a low bench outside the scrap tent. They had browsed the assorted debris inside until the sweltering heat made them bolt for the relatively cool air outside. “You realize what this means?”
“We can’t give the Sjocelym the gate keystone,” Jesse said grimly.
Mark blinked. “We can’t... aw, fuck,” he groaned. “I didn’t even think of that. I was going to say that we’ll be able to get whatever we need out of the ruins, but you’re totally right - we can’t pull the gateway with Gusje’s folks here, we’re going to need it to evacuate them when Eryha’s goons sweep through here. That and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity to grab as much cool junk as possible.” He shook his head. “Man, Vumo is going to be pissed.”
Jesse snorted. “That’s never worried you before,” he pointed out. “Besides, last week he didn’t think he was getting a new keystone, so he shouldn’t be too put out. I’m more concerned about what this means for the Aesvain still stuck in Idran Saal. We need to get them out of there.”
“Yeah,” Mark said, brushing sweat from his forehead. “I’m not sure where to go from here, though. Nowhere, immediately, since we’re stuck here at least until Vumo’s guy gets here in a chariot. He’ll live if we don’t get him the keystone, but it sounds like he pulled a lot of favors to get the chariot out here. We should at least tell the driver what’s up in person.”
He slapped his hands against his knees, wincing at the puff of dust it drew from his pants. “Well, we may as well make the most of our time,” he said, standing. “Let’s meet up with Jackie and Arjun, see if they were able to find out anything from the scavengers.”
Jesse stood as well, but frowned and looked off towards the far end of the plaza. Amid the shacks dotting the clear area there was a black plinth of stone, the local draa je qaraivat looming tall over the rubble and sand.
“You go ahead,” Jesse said. “There’s another lead I’ve been meaning to follow up on.”
“That thing with Jes?” Mark asked, quirking an eyebrow and following Jesse’s gaze. “You think you can use her to learn something about the stones?”
Jesse let out a short, humorless bark of laughter, then shook his head. “Something like that,” he said. “You go on ahead, I’ll either catch up or you can meet me back here when you’re done.”
“All right,” Mark sighed, clapping Jesse on the shoulder. “But I tell you what, man - when you figure all this out I’m first in line to hear what the hell’s going on.”
Jesse nodded. “Deal. Ping me on the radio if something comes up.”
He watched as Mark ambled off towards the scavenger side of the camp, then turned back towards the stone - only to find Gusje’s brother standing before him, still looking very much like a slimmer, fresh-faced Tesvaji.
“Mevi,” Jesse said, inclining his head. “You need something?”
The young-seeming man returned the gesture, then stepped in closer to speak quietly. “Have you talked with any of the locals aside from Su?” he asked.
Jesse frowned, shaking his head. “No, we haven’t had time,” he said. “Trouble?”
Mevi hesitated, then waggled his hand subtly. “Not sure,” he replied. “One of them has taken an interest in you. The man in the odd garb, hooded, standing just to the left of the last supply tent.”
Restraining the impulse to look immediately, Jesse nodded fractionally and gestured broadly towards the bench he had just vacated. Taking the hint, Mevi sat upon it. Jesse joined him a moment later, and as he turned to sit he let his eyes brush over the area Gusje’s brother had indicated.
There was indeed a strangely clothed man there, whittling idly at a scrap of wood. He was dressed in enveloping grey robes over some sort of form-fitting undergarment, his face in shadow from the light hood that kept the sun off his head. His boots were oddly well-made compared to his robe.
“You know who he is?” Jesse asked quietly.
Mevi smiled and gave a slightly exaggerated nod. “No,” he said. “Father has had me keep an eye on him, though. Something about the man made him uneasy, and he’s asked me to figure out why. It’s the only reason I noticed he was following your group around the camp - except now they’re all elsewhere, and he’s still here.”
“With me,” Jesse said. “Great.” He shook his head and stood back up, stretching his back. “Well, maybe he’s just curious. I don’t look much like anyone he’s ever seen, I imagine.”
“None of you do,” Mevi muttered. “But I take your point. You are the tallest.” He turned to face Jesse, a serious glint in his eye strengthening his resemblance to his father. “His sudden interest is concerning, though. If it happens to make you uncomfortable…”
Jesse nodded in acknowledgment of the unspoken request. “Not at the moment,” he said. “But I’ll let you know. And, actually-” He broke off, looking over at the draa je qaraivat. “I’m about to take a look at something over by the warding stone, there. I’ll need to close my eyes for a short while and may appear to be asleep. If you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out…”
Mevi blinked at the odd request, then shrugged and jerked his head toward the stone. “Sure,” he said. “At the very least I want to see how you go about looking at something with your eyes closed.”
The two walked over towards the massive stele, the noise of the bustle around them diminishing as they moved towards the edge of the plaza. Jesse squinted up at the top of the pillar for a moment, then tentatively reached his hand out to brush over the writing that covered the surface. Mevi watched from close by, looking mildly scandalized as Jesse pressed his palm against the stone, still cool despite the heat. Again, nothing.
Jesse sighed and turned away from the pillar, sinking down to a sitting position with his back against the plinth. He held his sheathed sword across his lap with one hand around the grip. The pillar was a chill pressure against the back of his head, the cold making a sharp counterpoint to the baking heat of the sand below. He focused on his hand around the sword, leaving his grip loose and relaxed as he breathed slowly. Inhale, exhale.
The hot and cold remained. A minute ticked by, then two. The idea seemed less sound than when he had conceived of it in the cold halls of Maja’s Sanctum - there was no guarantee that Jes could learn anything useful just by being in proximity to a warding stone formerly aligned with Eryha.
Inhale, exhale. Any number of factors could play a part, really. The stone he had touched previously had been much farther into the desert, crumbling into the sand. It had been by an ancient roadway. Perhaps it was the absence of Jes that allowed him to interact with it as any more than an inert rock? No, that couldn’t be, because-
A light touch on the shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. He was sitting against the foot of the bed in their room at Ce Raedhil, and Jes was standing over him with a pleased smile. He got up quickly, looking around, but found the room to be disappointingly normal.
Even the stars over the bay sparkled much the same as they had before, the low roar of ocean waves and the smell of brine filtering in through the window. He sighed and sat down on the bed. After a moment Jes joined him, slipping an arm around his shoulder.
“I’m not that disappointing, am I?” she teased.
Jesse smiled and shook his head, leaning into her. “I don’t know what I was expecting, really,” he said. “Just because I picked you up from a stone in this region doesn’t mean there’s anything left to find, or that any old stone will work - or that you can peer into them at all, for that matter.” He closed his eyes, frowning. “It would have been nice to find some answers.”
She was quiet for a second before responding. “Answers about me,” she said.
“Yes, if they were there to find,” Jesse said. “Answers about Eryha, about the silent ones, about the disaster at Sahao - anything, really, as long as it gives us more information about what we’re up against and what it might take to stop her.” He looked over at Jes exasperatedly. “It’d be nice to know if there’s a path forward that actually leads out the other side.”
“Are you talking about survival, or do you mean actually fighting Eryha?” Jes asked. “One of those is a lot harder than the other.”
Jesse sighed and ran his fingers through his hair disconsolately. “They’re the same thing, really. It’s not just the four of us anymore, we’ve got Tasja, Gusje, the rest of the Cereinem, the Aesvain - hell, may as well add the Sjocelym into the bargain. There are too many of us to run, and there’s nowhere else to go. We have to fight.”
“Just because you’re backed into a corner?” Jes mused. “That doesn’t seem right.”
He pulled away and gave her a questioning look. “No, I suppose not,” he admitted. “It’s the Aesvain, on top of everything else. They made me their leader, gave me their trust, even if it was just to fulfill Maja’s requirement. Maybe it’s just Tesvaji rubbing off on me, but I think that means something to them - and to me.”
“Interesting,” Jes said contemplatively, tapping a finger against her lips.
Jesse frowned, leaning back to look at her from a better vantage. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at the far wall of the room. “What’s up?” he asked. “You’re acting-”
The roar of a flyer passing low overhead made him jump to his feet, wide-eyed. He looked incredulously at Jes, but her face remained neutral as she continued to stare at the wall. Jesse paced to the window and looked outside to see blinking lights overhead, retreating into the distance as the noise diminished. He stared after it as it shrank to a pinprick, mouth hanging agape.
Then he looked down.
The city of Ce Raedhil stretched out below him in a tapestry of glimmering light, colors jumping and dancing through the streets from a million signs and windows. People milled below on the sidewalk in a coordinated dance with scriptwork chariots and carts. Music drifted up to his ears, discordant yet enthusiastic. It was night in the port city, and it was alive.
Realization struck as he turned away from the window to find Jes standing in front of him, an enigmatic smile tugging at her lips. She wore a friendly expression, but as Jesse met her gaze he felt space writhe in unseen directions around them, blurring his vision and forcing him to look away. His heart began to pound.
“You’re not Jes,” he said, trying to keep his breath steady.
She smiled wider, showing teeth. “And you’re not an idiot,” she said. “That’s refreshing. You wouldn’t believe how long it took Goresje to figure me out.”
“Wait, what?” Jesse said, his thoughts jumbled. “Goresje-”
She blurred, and her finger was on his lips before he could finish speaking. “Watching you work through this is endearing,” she said, “but since we’re done chatting we shouldn’t delay. That Setelym will grow suspicious if you sit for too long.” Her finger moved up to his forehead, tapping lightly-
And then there was only black.
