> "Concerns formulated by the ignorant are often just as useful as the solutions they propose, which is to say not very. Given that, I hope you can appreciate my reaction to some members of this distinguished body attempting to speculate on problems that may arise from use of ruudun."
>
> - Transcript of Vumo Ra’s address to the Ministerium, Royal Archives, Ce Raedhil.
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It was morning by the time Ce Raedhil’s towering skyline came into sight along the distant shore, a dimly lit silhouette against the brightening horizon behind it. Warm sunlight lit the haze coming off the ocean and limned the peaks of the eastward mountains with fire, but the broad valley between would remain in shadow for several hours more.
Jackie nudged Jesse, who poked his head up to look out one of the chariot’s ornate windows. He stared for a few moments before yawning and rubbing at his eyes. “We made good time,” he said.
“It’s a lot quicker when you actually know where you’re going,” Jackie said. “And this time we don’t have to ditch the chariot and walk in.” She shot a dark glance toward the front of the chariot. “Which is good, because I don’t want to be in this snake pit for any longer than we have to.”
Jesse grimaced. “I don’t think we have much control over our schedule,” he said. “But I do think they’ll want to get the keystone up to Idran Saal quickly, so hopefully that means we’ll be in and out as soon as they offload some of this junk.” He looked around at the spoils from Idhytse silently crowding the cabin. “I figure they’ll take most of it, then send anything they actually need through the gateway once it’s up. It’ll give them a day or two to look it over.”
“I really don’t care what they do,” Jackie grumbled, slouching back against a cushion. “I don’t want to hear about their plans unless it gets us one step closer to leaving.”
“We could be forced to stay with the Sjocelym for a while,” Jesse said gently. “And like him or not, Vumo is one of the only people who might be able to help us learn what we’re up against. If we don’t figure out a way to neutralize the threat from Maja, we might never be able to go back to the Sanctum with the others.”
Jackie’s lips pressed into a line. “Maybe,” she said. “When I think of being stuck with the Sjocelym forever-”
The carriage rumbled along for a while, and the light from outside grew steadily brighter - enough that after a few minutes Jesse could see the shine of tears on Jackie’s cheeks. She turned to face him and shook her head.
“I used to travel a lot,” she said quietly. “Places where folks don’t normally go on vacation, but they were nice enough to me - I was making them money. We’d show up, get trucked around between fancy hotels and the job site out in the middle of nowhere, but there were always a few times where the veneer fell off and we caught a glimpse of the real country. The shitty parts that nobody cared about.”
“You find ways to rationalize it, because you already know how it is on the ground,” Jackie scoffed, waving her hand theatrically in the air. “Of course there’s poverty! Of course there’s income inequality! It’s the third world! And you have these little conversations with the other expats on the team when you grab a few minutes away from the locals to drink and relax, and you talk about how ties to the west are incrementally improving the standard of living, paving the way to a future where the children aren’t hungry and the women can drive and all that - rank bullshit you feed yourself.”
She gave a little sardonic flourish, her lips twisting bitterly. “But you know that’s not actually happening,” she said. “You’re finding more money for the folks that have it, and they’re using it to crush down even harder on the folks that don’t. So some nights when you’re feeling more honest than usual, your brain spins up little fantasies where you get to help at least a few of them.”
She shook her head. “Dumb savior-complex shit, adopting a kid or sponsoring a family or something. I had the money, I could have probably done some good if I really wanted to, but there’s always some reason to wait. In the end it’s easier to just keep it in your head so you can tell yourself if the opportunity ever came up you would be one of the good guys.” Her voice choked off, and when she looked back up at Jesse her eyes glistened.
“And when it finally happened,” she rasped, “when I finally came face to face with a real, honest-to-God choice - I stood up next to the evil bastards and I burnt that kid down.”
Jesse bit his lip, then slouched forward as he considered his words. “That man wasn’t asking to be saved, Jackie,” he said. “He wanted to kill you.” She shook her head and moved to turn away, but Jesse reached out to grab her shoulder. She twitched in surprise before meeting his eyes.
“You’re not the only one who’s ever wondered what sort of impact they’re having,” he said, nodding fractionally towards his rifle.
Jackie followed the gesture with her eyes and flushed. “I - shit, I’m an idiot,” she muttered.
“You’re not,” Jesse reassured her. “You get to ask those questions just the same as I do, same as everyone does. I’d be more worried if you didn’t. Things like taking a life shouldn’t be - light.” He scratched his head and looked out the window. “Everyone thinks they’re justified, Jackie. At the end of the day, we all have a reason for doing what we do.”
“Was that man right to fight back against the king? Yes, probably,” Jesse said, sighing. “Was Sjogydhu right to fight them so that we can make it north and save the kingdom? Yes, probably.” He gave her a grim look. “They’re both right, they’re both wrong. I also killed one of them, and it was - bad. Really bad. Jes has been able to use more of the sword’s function and we thought we had a handle on what it would do, but seeing it-”
He cut off, rubbing his arm absently. “I have some idea of what his last moments must have been like, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” he said. “But Jes used it to scare the rest off. Probably saved a few lives. I know Sjogydhu would have killed more if they stayed.”
Jackie opened her mouth as if to speak, but Jesse held a hand up. “It doesn’t balance,” Jesse said. “There’s nothing to balance. It’s not accounting. I killed a man, I saved some people. That’s in the past now, we can’t change it. We just try to do the best we can next time. Learn, and be better.”
There was another span of quiet in the carriage, and Jesse looked out toward the lightening sky. Trees flashed by on the side of the road, still just featureless silhouettes disrupting the morning color and casting the interior of the chariot in flickering light.
“You’ve changed,” Jackie observed, drawing Jesse’s gaze back from the window.
Jesse smiled, but didn’t look away from the window. “Maybe a little,” he said. “Hard to tell when every day is something new. Did I change, or is it just reacting to changing circumstances? Is there a difference?”
“You just said more words than you did in the first two weeks I knew you, so yes,” Jackie laughed, “I’d call that a change.”
That wrung a real laugh from Jesse, albeit a quiet one. “That’s fair,” he chuckled. “I think if you had told me what was going to happen before all this started, I would have made it about one minute before I jumped back through the portal home.” He scratched his head, then glanced down at his arm. “I’m not sure how much credit I deserve for any of it, though.”
Jackie followed his glance, then looked at her own hands. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. It really makes me wonder where the line is between pragmatism and - whatever’s left of her. What she wants me to do.”
An uncomfortable look stole over Jesse’s face, but before he could respond Sjogydhu slid the divider open with a clatter. “Getting close,” he barked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “The city is expecting my return but they are very much not expecting yours. They won’t search the king’s chariot without cause so please, please - stay inside and keep quiet. The last thing I want is for my brother to learn you’re back in the city.”
“What, you can’t even trust your brother?” Jackie asked. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”
Sjogydhu snorted. “I trust Sigu to fulfill his oaths, some of which run in opposition to mine. ‘The Guard is order in The City,’ and the scriptsmiths are sometimes a bit… disorderly,” he said. “Or at least we have our reasons for not wanting to explain everything we do to the Guard, shot through as it is with informants for every other Pillar.”
Jesse sat up, looking thoughtfully out the window as a curve brought the skyline into view once more. He saw the glimmering spire of the Lighthouse reaching high into the morning sky, looming over the smaller, broken top of Stonesails in front of it. “Does each of the Pillars represent a faction?” he asked.
“To an extent,” Sjogydhu replied. “Not all of them are as unified as the Archives. The royalists hold the palace, obviously, but also the Spear and the Ministerium. The Sheaf and the Lighthouse fall under the merchant guildsmen, and Stonesails has always belonged to the rabble.”
Jackie tore her gaze from the window to frown at Sjogydhu. “I’m surprised you let the people have one,” she said.
“Let them?” Sjogydhu chuckled. “Stonesails is its own quarter of the city, it holds a third of the sajamen-houses within Ce Raedhil’s walls. It is a cramped, dirty pit for those just wealthy enough to cling to their sajam. It has nothing worth taking, and its presence frees up valuable land within the walls.”
“Figures,” Jackie muttered. “I don’t know why I bother asking.”
Sjogydhu spared a glance back at her, his face torn between irritation and wry amusement. “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay there,” he said. “In fact, if all goes well you two will not set foot outside the Archives before we’re off again. Now hold a moment, we’re coming up on the walls.”
They rumbled forward at a slow pace for a few tense minutes before Sjogydhu grunted and shot them one last glance. “Down, now,” he drawled. “Don’t peek out the windows until we’ve reached the Archives. You never know when a city guard might be looking our way, and this chariot draws the eye well.”
Jesse and Jackie exchanged a glance before slouching down to the floor of the carriage, watching the tops of the buildings around them slowly slide past until the chariot rolled to a stop. Sjogydhu hopped down from the cab and had a short, vigorous conversation with the gate guard that mostly passed unheard. It was only after he had hopped back in and the ponderous bulk of the gate had passed overhead that the divider slid back once more to reveal his mirthless grin.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Easy,” he said, gently guiding the chariot through the narrow streets. “Just a few more moments, then we can relax.” They held their comments as the stone facades rolled by around them, parting here and there to reveal the towering bulk of a Pillar - none too close, as they were already near to the vast, empty plaza that held the scriptsmiths’ headquarters.
Before they reached it, however, Sjogydhu steered the chariot onto a side street, then into a narrow passageway that sloped downward for some distance until it turned into a long, straight tunnel leading towards the base of the Archives.
“The bad guys have secret tunnels,” Jackie muttered. “The worst thing about it is that they have no idea how cliche they are.”
Jesse failed to restrain a smile. “I doubt they built them,” he said. “More likely they were already in place. Plenty of cities back home have pretty extensive underground infrastructure.” He edged upwards a bit, craning his neck to look out the window. “I wonder if this was something like a subway, in the past?”
“This would have been relatively protected from the blast at Sahao,” Jackie mused, too curious to avoid joining Jesse at the window. “I wonder if people lived down here at first.” She looked towards the front. “Sjogydhu, do these tunnels run under the whole city?” she asked, switching to Ceiqa.
He gave a noncommittal grunt. “Yes and no,” he said. “They go a long distance, but all of the branches that run beyond the walls were identified and closed by the Guard a long time ago - I can’t recall which king’s reign it was. More of the tunnels are simply collapsed, when rebuilding began in earnest it wasn’t unheard of for collapses to occur daily.” He looked around, then gave them another sunny smile. “Don’t worry, though. Much rarer these days, and we’ve maintained this section of tunnels for our own use. It’s isolated from the rest, mostly used for storage and transport within the city.”
“Neat,” Jackie replied flatly, sliding fully upright and looking around. The floor of the tunnel was flat and evenly graded, paved with closely-interlocking stone tiles that dipped down into a small water channel near the center. The vaulted ceiling was easily spacious enough for the chariot, although Sjogydhu was maintaining a dead-center track through the hallway to avoid clipping the corners on the sloped walls.
Finally, they rolled to a stop in a broad, dimly-lit terminus that stretched out into darkness around them. Two squat chariots already occupied the space near the room’s sole visible doorway. The one nearest them showed a bustle of red-robed figures moving around it, wiping down surfaces and fiddling inside cleverly-disguised panels on the outside.
Sjogydhu hopped out of the cab, and after a moment Jesse and Jackie followed. As spacious as the interior of the king’s carriage was, they had sorely missed the opportunity to stretch their legs on the ride from Sjan Saal - after their previous interruption, Sjogydhu was not receptive to the idea of stopping for unnecessary rests.
Now, though, they paced and stretched under the wrought-stone vaults while Sjogydhu talked in low tones with one of the scriptsmiths. The air was cool and damp, freshened by a slight breeze that issued from one of the far tunnels. After a moment Sjogydhu clapped the other man on the shoulder and walked back towards them.
“We’ll be taking one of our normal chariots the rest of the way,” Sjogydhu said. “They’re almost done preparing it for us, it’ll be just a bit longer.”
Jesse nodded, and Jackie surveyed the underground garage quietly. “Any chance of some breakfast?” she asked.
“Of course, Zhaqi Ra,” a sonorous voice said from behind them. They spun around to find Vumo standing in the doorway, a faint smile on his wrinkled face. “You’re a bit earlier than expected, so you have some time to rest before departing for Idran Saal.”
Jackie pursed her lips, while Jesse inclined his head cautiously. “Vumo,” he said. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing you here.”
“I could have said the same for you, not long ago,” the elderly scriptsmith said, his eyes twinkling conspiratorially. “Come on, now - the time we have is limited. I’ll show you upstairs.”
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The spread that Vumo laid out for them displayed the typical excellence they had come to expect from the Sjocelym elite - a selection of cured meats, cheeses, fruits and bread on a simple wooden platter. They sat in a chamber just off of Vumo’s office, watching the first rays of sunlight paint the bay with pale color.
Jackie picked at her food, and Jesse’s attention never wandered from Vumo, who was happily grazing from the platter with the enthusiasm of someone long-starved. He blotted his mouth with a cloth and looked up at them, his eyes flicking owlishly between their faces.
“Sjogydhu tells me there was some trouble on the road in Sevai Sazha,” he said without preamble, shrugging off a murderous look from Jackie.
Jesse nodded slowly, his eyes flicking once to the side. “Yes,” he said. “There was a roadblock, they tried to intercept the chariot.” He paused. “One of them was Vimodi’s - widow.”
Vumo grimaced. “She was a match for her husband,” he said. “I only met her once, when I last visited Sjan Saal. After meeting her I was quite sure that I knew how Vimodi was going to die.” He smiled slyly at Jackie. “I’m always pleased to find out that life is still capable of surprising me.”
Her eyes flashed, and her knuckles went white. “What do you want from us?” she asked, keeping her voice steady. “This isn’t a social visit.”
“Not only that,” Vumo conceded. “You know we’re preparing to defend Idran Saal,” he said. “Indeed, the… discontent you experienced on your journey up is a marker of how total the diversion of resources has been. We are, quite simply, fully committed.”
Vumo opened his mouth as if to say something else, then let out a small sigh. For the barest of moments he looked every century of his age, then he brought his head up to meet their eyes directly. “It’s not going to be enough,” he said. “I think you know what we’re up against, perhaps even better than I do, and everything I know says that if Tinem Sjocel’s defenders stand at the wall, we will fare no better than those who stood for Tinem Aesvai.”
“We have had our disagreements,” he said. Jackie gave a derisive snort of laughter, and Vumo spread his hands. “I admit it! I withheld information from you, tried to use force and threats to bend events to my will. I will not try to excuse myself except to say that I have become somewhat inflexible in my old age, which is the worst sort of blindness when dealing with new and different times.”
He placed his hands lightly on the table, and spread his bony fingers wide. “I have helped to guide this kingdom under three different kings,” he said quietly. “I am not its ruler, but I do think of myself as its custodian. I have a duty to its legacy. So when I find it threatened with its utmost end, and I cannot think of a way to save it - duty commands that I be humble, and ask if you might consider helping us.” He looked between them once more, his eyes ultimately lingering on Jesse. “Please.”
Jesse let the silence spool out as he considered Vumo’s words. “What do you think we can do?” he asked.
“I think you’ve learned things,” Vumo said. “Things that we may have forgotten over the long ages since my forefathers could fly through the air or shape stone like clay. I have only - pieces of it.” He closed his hands into fists, shaking his head. “And it is not enough. I will not ask you fight with us, or even to think of me as an ally - but I would ask that you share what you know. It might give us the chance we need to stand against the Emperor of Ash.”
Jesse’s thoughts raced, and when he turned to Jackie he saw only bewilderment on her face. They had only seen Vumo here and there in their travels, but he had always been smug, sly, confident - not this aged and beaten man that currently sat across from them.
“What do you think?” he asked in English, keeping his intonation carefully neutral.
Jackie blinked, then turned to face him. “We can’t trust him,” she said. “If he finds out, uh, certain things - he’s not going to let us go. We’re literally in the middle of his lair right now, he could decide to kill us on a whim.”
“He can’t kill us without risking his access to our glowing friend,” Jesse said, clumsily dancing around proper nouns.
“And what if he figures out she’s not on his side either?” Jackie retorted. “He might decide to take the sure bet and grab the sword for himself. We can’t make him doubt the glowy one right now.”
Jesse nodded slowly. “He’s not wrong, though. You remember the storm. Unless they’ve been keeping some really good stuff in reserve, they’re totally outmatched.”
Jackie bit her lip, shooting an annoyed look at Vumo. The elderly scriptsmith was watching them speak with an expression of polite interest. “I know,” she said. “I guess if you can think of something general, something that wouldn’t tip our hand…”
“Yeah,” Jesse said, frowning. He cleared his throat and spoke directly to Vumo, switching back to Ceiqa. “All right, we can talk.”
Vumo gave him a grateful nod, although Jesse didn’t miss the flare of triumph that sparkled in his eyes. “Anything you can share would be immensely appreciated,” he said.
The room fell silent, and Jesse popped a piece of dried fruit in his mouth to give himself a moment to think. “For starters,” he said, “let me confirm for you that the ‘Lysvarun heresy’ is correct. Vinesavaim are just script written on the walls of their Sanctum.”
“I had guessed as much,” Vumo sighed, “although it is good to hear it stated so plainly. The Setelym mostly confirmed my suspicions a long while ago, but they did it in such a roundabout way that I could never quite shed a lingering sliver of doubt.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m more surprised that this has some bearing on the Emperor of Ash.”
Jesse licked his lips, feeling his pulse quicken a bit. “The entity you know as the Emperor of Ash is - like a vinesavai,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “A script-”
“-carved on the bones of the silent ones,” Vumo breathed, staring vacantly ahead. “Of course. We had seen fragments, but we thought it was purely for control - and the draam je qaraivat repel them because of the differing ruud valence… ah.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to ramble. You’ve resolved several questions that I had been picking at for a long while now.” He managed a smile, looking somewhat winded. “But I’ve interrupted you. Would it be ungrateful of me to hope you have further revelations to share?”
Jesse shook his head, inwardly somewhat taken aback by how quickly Vumo had pieced together what he meant to share. For all his age, the scriptsmith’s mind was clearly in fine order. “Um,” Jesse said, hastily reevaluating the rest of what he had meant to say. “You managed to put together a lot on your own.”
Vumo smiled guilelessly across the table. “I do have the occasional moment of lucidity,” he chuckled.
Anything else he had meant to say suddenly felt excessively risky, and Jesse shook his head. “It will attack with a storm,” he said. “Wind, sand, lightning. The lightning is the real threat, it will destroy your draam je qaraivat and likely the border wall as well.”
“That does sound troublesome,” Vumo muttered, staring glassily at the far wall for a moment before focusing back on them. “Still, it provides an excellent starting point. I’m not sure how much we can prepare before the attack comes, but thanks to the keystone we should be able to work right up until the last moment.” He flashed them a dazzling smile. “You may have just saved Tinem Sjocel, and I will not forget that.”
Jackie’s look back across the table was decidedly cool, and Jesse frowned. “Pass your gratitude to the Aesvain we’ll be taking from you,” he said. “Or maybe even to your own people.”
Vumo’s face slackened. “You think so little of us?” he asked. “It isn’t as though we’re indifferent to the problems of our people. Many scriptsmiths will risk their lives to keep our borders safe, and it’s likely that many will lose theirs before this is over.”
“But not you?” Jackie said. “Somehow I can’t imagine you on the front lines.”
“What would you have me do there?” he asked, bemused. “I was never much good with a pike, even when I was younger. Would my fruitless death serve Tinem Sjocel better than my guidance?” The door to the room snicked open briefly, and Vumo’s eyes flicked to the side. “Edifying as this has been, it appears your chariot is ready to depart. Getting that gateway functional will-”
Jackie turned and walked out the door without waiting for Vumo to finish. He sighed and turned to Jesse. “I have the impression that she doesn’t like me very much,” he said wryly. “Nor do you, I suspect.”
Jesse rose and looked down at Vumo. “You don’t care what I think,” Jesse said quietly. “But let me tell you one last thing we learned. You asked me to find out what I could about Goresje’s death.”
Vumo went very still, his eyes locking to Jesse’s with an unnerving liquidity. “I did,” he murmured.
Jesse held his gaze for a second, resisting the urge to put his hand on his sword. “He gave his life to protect Tinem Sjocel,” Jesse said. “He saved all of you. Just something to think about, when considering that legacy you’re protecting.”
Vumo sank back into his chair, absently grabbing a piece of dried fruit and chewing it as Jesse left the room. He finished, swallowed and reached for another before dropping his hand in his lap halfway. When the bread was half-stale and the cheese had begun to sweat a thin coating of oil in the growing day’s heat, he stood and brushed a few crumbs from his robe.
He stalked back into his office and sat at his desk, touching a stud laid into the wood. “Convene an assembly,” he said, feeling the scriptwork under his finger vibrate in time with his words. “Tell them the topic is heresy.”