CROSS-CULTURAL EFFECTS / CH. 3:PEACE-KNIFE

HIGH COUNCIL ROOMS, ATLANTIS, 7PM TUESDAY 18TH DECEMBER

“Mr Ambassador, thank you for coming.” the elder of the Council greeted the Russian ambassador.

“The message said it was urgent.”

“Yes. You are aware, I'm sure, of the recent worries we've had in the old quarter of our city.”

“Yes. I must admit I'm surprised that it seemed perfectly dry. The guilty parties came forwards?”

“Not precisely. They have been disarmed and are now being held in an inflatable raft in the harbour. From our point of view we were quite pleased to learn they were not in fact Mer, so the oath has not been broken.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

“You might not be when you hear where they came from.”

“Oh, no. They are Russian? No, no, no! Please say they are just stupid children.”

“'They are just stupid children', unfortunately these children who took orders from another irresponsible child are aged in their thirties.”

“They were under orders?”

“They were quite well organised, so we presume they were under orders. Their feet had been cut, deliberately scarred. I presume to make it look like webs had been removed from between their toes. But it would be clear to most who saw them that that the scars were in the wrong place. It was probably also clear to them from their first visit to the swimming pool.” The elder shook his head, “They were so well prepared in some ways, so badly prepared in others.”

“And during this time of ethnic differences being made known, they thought to cause trouble?”

“They had an... accomplice. We know she turned a blind eye when they flew that flag. That merwoman has her own misguided reasons to be antagonistic to Outer Mer, and is preparing for her trial. But we do not yet know whose idea it was that they flew that disgusting flag. No doubt they will claim it was all her idea. But, as we know, even if it was, such decisions are rarely made by the operative.”

“Not normally, no. Perhaps in some cultures, but not in mine. More's the pity.”

“Do you wish to speak with them?”

“Not particularly, but I suppose I should, shouldn't I? Do you have names?”

“Yes, several different ones per person, based on their collections of travel documents.”

“You left them all in the same boat? They will be agreeing on a story.”

“It will be very entertaining to hear, I'm sure. If they are intelligent they might realise that sound carries well over water, even if they do find the recording devices in the boat. If they are well briefed, they will know we speak a lot of languages. There is much we do not know, Mr Ambassador. We are not certain if they are genuinely Russian, or are perhaps passing themselves off as Russian. We do not know if they are a group of ill-prepared government agents, who wanted to cause trouble before they were sent home — they'd already over-stayed their visa — or if they were agents from some other organisation.”

“They might be criminals, you mean?” The ambassador's heart leapt at the thought.

“Oh, without a doubt, but what sort? That is the question. We are sure that six people did not come to Atlantis over a month ago to start an ethnic conflict they knew nothing about. So what have they been doing? Who have they been reporting to? Anything you felt able to share with us about their identities would be most welcome. Oh, three of them were armed with knives somewhat like our warriors carry, but from the wrong material. Another had a genuine Mer knife of ancient design. We'd love to know where she got it from, and presume she doesn't know it's value.”

“It is valuable?”

“It is easily worth its weight in diamonds. Probably two or three times that.”

“I will try to find out what I can.”

----------------------------------------

ATLANTIS-H, 7.30PM, TUESDAY 18TH DECEMBER

“Hello on the inflatable! Are you having a nice time?” The ambassador asked in his mother tongue. There were six people there, two men, four women.

“Come on in, the water is lovely and warm for Siberia,” one of the women said.

“You tempt me, but there is no ice yet, and I don't want to scald myself. Where are you from?”

“Who wants to know?” another replied.

“Does it affect your answer?”

“What do you think?”

“I think your little provocative flag almost turned part of Atlantis into a shark feeding-ground.”

“What stopped them?” one of the men said.

“They found out you weren't Mer. If you were, you'd be shark-food. Of course, you might still be shark food. You know what that symbol signified?”

“A little protest against the status quo,” the first woman said.

“Imagine, just for instance, you've just climbed to the top of the Kremlin, and then you take down the flag of the Tsar, and in its place you put up that old red one with he hammer and sickle on it, or perhaps a bust of Stalin, and then your friends carefully paint every maternity hospital in camouflage and tell our most trigger-happy neighbours that they have been secretly turned into nuclear silos. Would you call that a little protest against the status quo?”

“Not so little,” she admitted.

“The flag you flew has not been flown for four thousand years, you know that? It is more shocking to them than flying the Nazi flag over St Petersburg would be.”

“She said she wouldn't do it.” the second woman pointed out.

“But didn't try to stop you?” the ambassador asked.

“No. She gave it to us,” the first one said.

“Which one of you had the funny knife?”

“Why do you want to know? Who are you working for?” the man asked.

“Right now? Myself, I'm off duty, and curious about why six people would decide to make themselves shark-food.”

“And when you are on duty?” he pressed.

“I try not to upset the Tsar, or the people around me. That's not a healthy thing to do, you know? You know why you're in that boat, don't you?”

“So we might think of swimming away and save them a trial.”

“No. It's in case divine judgement comes. They don't mind risking an inflatable on you, but they don't want to risk you being anywhere where a lightning bolt might do some more expensive damage. So, the knife?”

“My dad picked it up on a flea-market,” the third woman said. “No one here would tell me anything about it.”

“You didn't ask the right people. It's knife-metal so it's got a lot of gold in it, but I got told it was worth at least it's weight in diamonds.”

She started swearing.

“It sounds like you don't like someone called Yuri,” the ambassador said.

“The boss. Sent us here to open up a new market, find some angry young malcontents, maybe. Make them rich, make us rich. Promises, promises.”

“You thought some kind of trade would make mer rich? You're talking about a people who often go scuba-diving off the coast of somewhere for their holidays, and pick up a few diamonds as big as your thumb or a bucket of fist-sized nuggets of gold.”

“We know that now.”

“So you fell back on the idea of finding malcontents, and that's what the flag was supposed to do?”

“Yeah.”

“You really didn't read the embassy's information-page before you got here, did you?”

“Propaganda,” the second woman said, dismissively, “written by brainless puppets of the government for other puppets of the government, toeing the party line and trying to make everything seem far rosier than it is.”

“Do you hate everyone like that? You had noticed that there is the odd bit of tension between the Russian Empire and the government here?”

“Yeah,” she acknowledged.

“So what's the party line rubbish about?”

“I meant in general.”

“I meant in the specific. You scarred your toes — in the wrong place — to pretend to be, what, totally ignorant grandkids of locals? But you didn't bother to read freely available information about the economy and culture? Are you just totally stupid, or anarchists or what?”

“Totally stupid, freezing cold, scared, anarchist black-marketeers, arms-traders and drug-runners,” the fourth woman said, earning herself a torrent of abuse from her colleagues which she totally ignored.

“How do you know about our toes?” the knife-owner asked.

“The elder of the High Council told me. That's roughly speaking the prime-minister to you. I'll ask for some blankets.”

“Any chance of another boat before we go to sleep?” woman four asked, “I don't want to wake up finding one of these idiots with his hands all over me or worse.”

“Not a problem,” the warrior beside the Ambassador said in slightly accented Russian, “sorry you're cold. I guess we don't feel it as much as you.”

----------------------------------------

HIGH COUNCIL OF ATLANTIS, 9PM, TUESDAY 18TH DECEMBER.

“In the harbour, you were heard to say 'anarchist black-marketeers, arms-traders and drug-runners'. Was that a description of all of you equally, or did you specialise?”

“We know what each other does, but I don't do weapons or drugs. I got into this life to make it easier for people, not to kill people.”

“But you claim to be an anarchist? You recognise no law?”

“I like some of them. I think I like the ones you've got here, from what I've seen. I don't like the ones back home which make life hard for everyone without connections.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“You declared yourself stupid.”

“Yes. I didn't agree to flying that flag. They wanted to get find idiots who'd sell them rock-cutters. Can you imagine what that'd do, if the local mafia boss could cut open the army's weapons store, or cut down buildings and bridges? It was too short sighted. I should have turned them in. I wanted out, I guess I should have claimed asylum or something, but was too stupid, too scared I'd be sent home and the law would finally catch up with me.”

The council members debated among themselves for a few minutes, holding the metal bar that let them think together. The elder then spoke: “If you want to, you may tell us of your past crimes, wherever they may have been committed, and we will hold you accountable for them here. We would report to the various governments concerned that you had confessed to these crimes as part of your trial here for your part in an attempt to re-ignite a civil war and causing Mer to break oaths, and that these crimes have been taken into account during your trial here.

“If we do not find you guilty of a capital crime, you would then take an oath to not return to your life of crime and if you claimed asylum and it is granted, you would be permitted to stay or leave as you please. If you do not claim asylum or it is not granted, you will be transported to any country of your choosing. If you do not reveal your past crimes, or refuse to take an oath that your days of crime are over, then at the end of your sentence here you will be handed over to the authorities of the Russian empire. Before you make your choice, understand that by our laws the most heinous crimes are to do with breaking of oaths and harming the defenceless, and that when we demand you tell us of your past crimes we mean both crimes against our law and the laws of the countries you were in. You should think on this, and not decide now.”

“Unless the Tsar decides to pardon me, then I am dead if I am handed over to their authorities. What is there to think about?”

“I repeat, you should not decide now,” the elder said, “we require your decision be made with adequate knowledge of our law. You will be held in the harbour, separately from the others. You can read English?”

“Yes,” she replied,

“You will have some things to read and understand. If you cannot understand, ask.”

----------------------------------------

HIGH COUNCIL OF ATLANTIS, 9.20PM, TUESDAY 18TH DECEMBER.

“This is not your trial.” the elder began the interview with the next most interesting case. “This is a pre-trial discussion, seeking to consider things which might affect the trial. We warn you that lying to the council is a serious crime. What did you think of raising the battle flag of the Inner Mer?”

“It wasn't my idea, I didn't think it would work for what they wanted and I didn't want it to. The Mer-woman suggested it, we needed to do something and Yuri had heard of the flag. He told us to do it. Yuri... gives a lot of latitude, but he doesn't accept failures happily, and this trip was one failure after another. So I said, we'd better do it if Yuri says so, but I told them to make sure it was hard to see.”

“This Yuri is a general trader of hard to obtain articles and substances, yes?”

She laughed at such a description of a black-marketeer, gun-runner and drug importer, “Yes, exactly.”

“And we understand you and your colleagues covered different specialisations. What was yours?”

She hesitated, then admitted: “Drugs. I specialised in gaining friendships with suppliers, letting them know there was a market for high quality produce, but also in connecting local outlets to our supply chain.”

“What sort of drugs?”

“Anything that can be bought or sold. Medicines, painkillers, contraceptives, you name it.”

“Why would people go to you for medicines?”

“Price, availability. Because we've got a broader catalogue than other suppliers. Reliability of supply even. Nothing worse than going to the pharmacy and finding their supplier hasn't bothered delivering this month.”

“Are you speaking of a legitimate high street pharmacy?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And they'd buy from you as a cover for illicit sales, you mean?”

“Do I have to answer these questions?”

“No.”

“I tell them, we have a very broad catalogue, and we deliver on time, but without much paperwork. Do make sure you place your order accurately. If you want some acid, make sure you specify the concentration and whether you want hydrochloric, sulphuric, acetic, citric or lysergic. If you want powdered chalk, then ask for powdered chalk, and we'll deliver you some calcium carbonate. At which point they laugh and I laugh and what they do then is not my business.”

“I understand the acid reference, is 'powdered chalk' some kind of code phrase among landmen?” the elder asked.

“Yes, elder. A highly addictive euphoric drug,” one of the other council members answered.

“And when obtained from reliable high quality sources such as I look for, and with careful dosing, it is very effective in the palliative care of terminal conditions,” the prisoner added.

“I see,” the elder said, “And you would claim that your role is not a corrupter of youth but a provider of pain relief for the dying?”

“Here in Atlantis, I've seen lots of deadly weapons. Is the person making or selling the weapon responsible for their use?”

“An interesting philosophical debate, so let us turn to deadly weapons. You stated that the Mer knife that was in your possession was bought by your father?”

“Yes,”

“And he gave it to you?”

“He died,” she replied, then added “He died of a broken heart, after my mother died when I was thirteen. She died in agony because the pharmacist promised him that the medicine she needed daily would arrive on time, and so my father did not look at finding another source until it was almost too late. And he found out it was too late, because no one could deliver any on time.”

“Ah, and hence you eventually chose your role?”

“Yes,”

“And so the knife is yours by inheritance?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“What do you know about it?”

“The man at the harbour said it was valuable,”

“It is. How have you used it?”

“It's a knife. I've used it like I'd use a sharp, scary-looking knife.”

“To kill?”

“No,”

“Have you injured anyone with it?”

“Only in self defence,” she replied, guardedly.

“Self defence... how? You were resisting arrest?”

“No, he wanted to rape me.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“You've used it to threaten?”

“A bit,” the prisoner replied.

“As an act of aggression, or in response to aggression?”

“A response,” she answered, wondering why they were so interested in her knife.

“These are acceptable uses of a peace-knife. The knife not forfeit, it is yours as long as you continue to use it peacefully.”

“Cutting up rapists is peaceful?” the prisoner asked.

“Dealing with dangerous sharks is protecting the peace and tranquillity of all,” a woman on council said, “You spared his life, although it was forfeit: you were generous, even.”

“Can you tell the courts back home that, please? They'd probably think I emasculated an army captain in an unprovoked attack.

“If you think it'll do any good,” the elder replied, “we'll pass on that information.”

“It probably won't help me at all, as if you tell them about it they'll know it was me and that I'm an anarchist drug dealer.” she said, then realised something, “you've not asked me my name, or had me swear to tell you the truth or anything like that.”

“No. Just don't bother lying to us. We are, after all, thought-hearers. You're welcome to tell us your name if you like.”

“Will you tell me about the knife?”

“It is a peace-knife, an ancient artifact, a gift from before the time of the Romans. Probably it was part of some long-dead king's treasure-store. Undoubtedly it has been stolen, sold, lost, found, numerous times.”

“And the marks on the blade?”

“Translated, it would say: I was forged in peace, I came in peace, I remain to protect. Keep me close, but return me rather than use me for ill.”

“Oh,” she'd dreamed, when she was young, it was some kind of magical protection. “Thank you, it's nice to know. My parents gave me the name Anastasia.”

“A good name,” the council-woman said, then pointed out: “You declared the blade is Anastasia's by right, elder. Should she not have it?”

“Yes. The peace-knife should be returned to you,” he nodded to a warrior who left the room and a minute later returned carrying a carefully wrapped bundle, and presented it to the confused prisoner.

“Urm. You're returning it now?” Anastasia asked.

“You deny it's yours, Anastasia?” The elder asked with a glint in his eye.

“Not at all, but...”

“The blade was forged in peace, and came to you in peace. It remains to protect. Keep it close, but return it rather than use it for ill,” the elder said, “If someone who has a peace-knife and knows what it is, uses it for ill, then it should be smelted down. Since the metal in it is inferior to what we'd make knifes of today, it's not particularly valuable as molten metal. Return it unsullied and you would be paid its value as a museum piece.”

“How much is that?”

The warrior who'd handed it to her replied “I asked the archivist who was lovingly drawing it. He said he didn't know but asked if I thought you'd accept a bucket of good gemstones for it. I expect that was all he could afford.”

Anastasia shook her head in wonderment, “Is there more about it that I should know?”

“There is lots you could know. Who are we to declare should to one who does not acknowledge any law?”

“There are laws about it?”

“Beyond what we've told you? Oh yes, young lawless Anastasia.” The elder said and she sensed a challenge in his tone.

“Will you tell me?” she asked.

“Why should we?”

“It's my knife.”

“Why is it your knife?”

“You said so.”

“Oh, so if I say it's Sathzakara's does that make it hers?”

“Not by your laws.”

“But you don't acknowledge laws.”

“The very fact that you approve of my cutting up the army captain means your laws and the laws at home are different. Laws are not absolutes.”

“No. Landfolk laws are not absolutes. Ou laws on property, and concerning peace-knives and those who hold them, for example have not changed in more than three thousand years.”

“I acknowledge property laws, and laws that protect privacy.”

“What about laws that protect the vulnerable?”

“I acknowledge those too.”

“Yet you sell things to people who use them to destroy other's lives.”

“Not knowingly. I do not enquire, it is not my business. But if someone wants me to know, it is obviously not a secret. I happily share public information about dangerous people with the police.”

“Ah. Does Yuri know of this?”

“It amuses him.”

“And the members of your group who sell weapons? Would you inform on them?”

“I did not pick who was in the group. I was quite sure their efforts would come to nothing. They do not like me, I do not like them.”

“And your colleague who so helpfully named you all anarchists?”

“Yelena speaks too much when she's upset, but she's all right.”

“Yelena is deciding whether to throw herself on the mercy of this court.”

“And I must do the same?”

“The cases are different. But we will offer you similar terms: if you want to you may tell us of your past crimes, and we will take them into consideration when we sentence you here. We would also tell the relevant governments what you had confessed to while on trial for your part in an attempt to re-ignite a civil war and causing Mer to break oaths, and that those crimes have been taken into account during your sentencing here.

“You would then take an oath to not return to your life of crime and you would be permitted to stay or leave as you please. If you choose to leave after such an oath, you will be transported to any country of your choosing. If all remains as it is, and you do not reveal your past crimes, or refuse to take an oath that your days of crime are over, then at the end of your sentence here you will be free to leave, but no Mer will transport you.

"Before you make your choice, understand that by our laws the most heinous crimes are to do with breaking of oaths and harming the defenceless, and that when we demand you tell us of your past crimes we mean both crimes against our law and the laws of the countries you were in. You should think on this, and not decide now.”

“What might change that would affect these things?” Anastasia asked.

“You hold a peace-knife, young one, which is not just physical protection. If you were to give it away, or sell it, that would change many things, and we would have spoken to you of death sentences. The irony of trying the possessor of a peace-knife for a crime relating to war is not lost on us.”

“And if I turn from my life of crime, what would you expect me to do?”

“Yuri finds your turning in of destroyers of innocence amusing. I find it a sign of morality in you. Perhaps, if it were your business to enquire about the planned use of honestly obtained medicines, there would be a use for your contacts and negotiating skills. Feel free to discuss this with the one you call Yelena.”

“That's not her real name?”

“No idea. She didn't decide to tell us a name. Does she know yours?”

“She thinks I am Antonina, as far as I know.”

----------------------------------------

ATLANTIS-H, 9.40PM, TUESDAY 18TH DECEMBER.

“Yelena?” Anastasia-Antonina called, “The council say we have a similar decision to make, will you accept my company?”

Yelena opened the tent-like structure on the inflatable, and peered out. “Similar, or the same?”

“My pretty knife apparently saves me from any death sentence.”

“Not the same, then. But come on board, I want to hear how a theatrical prop keeps you safe.”

When she was on board, Anastasia said: “By being a genuine pre-Roman artefact called a peace-knife. They even told me what the symbols on the blade mean.”

“You said...”

“I lie a lot,” Anastasia said, “sorry.”

“I take it your real name's not Antonina?” Yelena asked. Knowing it wasn't.

“Good guess. Anastasia.”

“And did your dad really buy the knife at a flea market?”

“Yes. It cost him quite a lot, but that's what he told me. And because he bought it honestly, and I got it honestly and I've only used it for peaceful things. I get to keep it. And now if I want to sell it, I get offered buckets of gemstones and made liable to death sentences. Or I can keep it and if I mis-use it then it'll need to be melted down and it's only value is scrap metal.”

“Gold-containing scrap metal.”

“Yes, but it's not the same alloy as their knives use these days, apparently, so my guess is treat as nine-carat gold.”

“Not quite as good as a bucket of Mer gemstones, then when each one's probably worth about a house.”

“That much? Wow.”

“Hold on, didn't you use it when you sliced off that rapist's wedding tackle?”

“Yeah. That's called protecting the community from a dangerous shark, which is a good peaceful activity apparently. And I was even merciful, too, since I didn't kill him.”

“They're really into protecting the innocent here.”

“I know. I agree with them.”

“How do you square that with selling drugs?” Yelena asked.

“I grass up people who I know supply kids. Yuri knows, thinks it's a great laugh.”

“You... you grass up your own customers?” Yelena asked surprised, but pleased.

“I tell them, 'I didn't ask to know that, you probably didn't want to tell me. But you've obviously got a loose tongue. That's not good in this market. You're off my approved customer list, and I'm not staying around to learn who else you've made that public to.'”

“How do you tell the cops without getting caught yourself?”

“These days, I'm registered with the association of pharmaceuticals suppliers, remember? You helped me get the paperwork. I've got a contact at the head office who loves getting notes from me, thinks I'm a private investigator.”

“Wow, you're good.”

“You got me the registration, Yelena.”

“You took it far further that I thought you could,” Yelena shook her head, then she added “I'm not cut out for this life any more.”

“Feel free to step outside. I'm sure some sharks will help.”

“I meant Yuri's collective.”

“Well, I think Yuri's lost us both, then. I think they're working out if they want to offer me a legitimate job if I turn my back on crime. I could do with some help on the paperwork front, if you're willing.”