Rise of the Harlequin

by Roberto Ricci

  I knelt beside him. He was breathing heavily and turned his face toward me. I saw fear in his eyes. “Go away. Leave me alone Black Chrome!” he said. “Everyone… leave me alone!” Clearly, all his demons had finally caught up with him, too. He sobbed like a wounded animal. “I hate you all.” He ranted between heaving breaths.

  I placed my hand on his arm. “I don’t hate you Astor.”

  “Yes you do! Everyone hates the Green and we hate you too!”

  “You saved my life.” I reminded him.

  “I also made sure you would die on the Wheel of Chance.”

  I nodded. “You were scared the Blue chromes were going to put you on the wheel for having stolen my coins. You acted out of fear.” His eyes widened. “I know what it means to lose your friends… to be a nomad,” I continued, using the same tone I would to calm a wild animal. “But you are not amongst strangers, here. You don’t need to run away any longer.” Just then, I remembered the wise lesson Chtomio had told me by the sea: Have no fear, Asheva. Fear can win over the strongest of chromes and the most powerful of kings. It can bend the most resilient of spirits.

  If only I could make Astor see that fear had grabbed hold of his once resilient spirit and was eating it alive. I helped him get up.

  “Let go of me,” he shook off my hand and then made his way back into the bushes.

  “This has indeed been a most interesting Moxia.” I turned around. Failan had appeared out of nowhere behind me. She was smiling. “Perhaps you do have more heart after all. The Mother Goddess always works in mysterious ways.”

  “So the Moxia is finished?” I said, partly relieved.

  “Not yet,” she whispered. “Watch.”

  We Harlequins all stood in silence, near Failan, not sure what to look out for.

  Then I began to see them. Slowly, the first bodies began to emerge silently from the land. They seemed still in a trance, captured by their rite. Some actually had difficulties in getting up to their feet as if the rite had drained all of their energy.

  “The end of the Moxia is like a new birth for us, a new beginning,” commented Failan. She was smiling but had tears in her eyes.

  We watched as many more Green rose from the surroundings, as if the land was indeed giving them back to the gods, with a new life. And in a way, given what lay ahead for me in the territories, the Moxia seemed to promise that a new life was in store for me as well.

  21. Cestia

  That night, after the Moxia, those two fateful words of Failan’s: wrath and love, love and wrath, kept running through my mind… over and over again. I thought back to my last moments with Chtomio in the tower of Samaris. That was where that evil betrayer, Minister Oris, stabbed him. My rage at his cowardly act had surged through me until I burned so bright with vengeance, I killed Oris without regret. But the rage did not stop there. It stayed with me as I saw Tiara’s lifeless body, and it spurred me on during combat with the other Chromes in the battle of the Red city. I fought hand to hand against those who were of my nation and against the Red.

  I had fought against everyone who had a shield and a sword. And I had quickly become part of what I was fighting against.

  Failan was right. There had been too much bloodshed and too much death. It brought nothing.

  No more wrath, I thought, no more violence. My heart would now yearn for love and peace.

  Love.

  Cestia.

  Not a day passed without thinking about her.

  She had seen me standing next to Chtomio’s body and it was all too easy for her to conclude that I was the one who killed her father. None of the Green knew what had become of her. I would think of her supple young body and her indigo eyes — a deep sea of compassion and intelligence which I yearned to explore. Her remembered scent was often enough to keep me tossing in my pallet until sunrise.

  I had just given up on my latest attempt at sleep on the soft ground of the amphitheater, rolling over to stare at Daerec’s back. He was still snoring peacefully. I pushed him and said: “Daerec, wake up!” That only made him snore louder.

  “Daerec, wake up you lazy merchrome!”

  Daerec turned over and mumbled in his sleep: “No fishing this morning! I’m tired of fish!”

  I grabbed a bowl of blue Moxia camouflage paint and splashed it on his face. He jerked violently and shouted “Storm ahead!” My laughter made him open his eyes. He got up, furious, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

  “I’m going to kill you!” he growled and I think he actually meant it. We wrestled on the ground until he was out of breath. “You’re becoming fat, eating all those green cherries,” I told him. “It’s time we get you back into shape, hiking the territories.”

  “Why?” He asked. “I am happy here like I’ve never been. I have fresh fruit every day and good chromes that care for me.”

  “That’s because their priestess has grown fond of you,” I said.

  “Whaaaaaat?” he stammered, pretending to be dumbfounded. “You don’t know what you’re saying!” It was pathetic, really. His red face always gave him away.

  “Oh?” I teased. “Then why is it that the only two whose plates are filled every day with green cherries are yours and hers?”

  He rapidly changed the subject. “All right, where is it you want to go?”

  “I need to find Cestia,” I told him. “And I need your help.”

  He looked me straight in the eyes but didn’t say a word. I had to push him for an answer, which wasn’t how we normally interacted with each other. “I’m not sure it would be a good thing if I came along,” he finally admitted, seeing how badly his reluctance to tell me this news made me feel. “She represented all that I fought against in Samaris. I’d rather kill her than save her, if you want to know the truth.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying!” I told him. “She’s not what you think she is,” I remembered how Cestia had spoken about her disdain for the Red caste system during the feast of the candles in Samaris. I tried to tell Daerec about her desire to abolish it and bring the lowest Janis class safe inside the walls of the city. She wanted to give them equal status. “She would have made a great Red queen and would have changed things.”

  “Ah! Of course! When they’re young, they’re all like us right? They’re all for changing things, making things right. Then, suddenly… you give these chromes some power and behold! Everything changes. Suddenly, they no longer have time to help the needy. Not when’s more important to take care of ceremonies and continue greasing the palms of the wealthy to keep the city running!”

  Daerec’s disdainful words made me think about Chtomio who had given up, trying to fight the Reds’ cruel caste system out in the open. “I know these chromes, Asheva!” he continued. “They’re all the same! If she had had the chance she would have ended up ruling the way her father and her grandfather have done before: Run the Red Kingdom with a tight fist and keep us Janis out of the walls. You know what? I am glad that she roams the lands without a kingdom and without power. That’ll teach her a thing or two about how other Reds have been forced to live. And if someone attacks and kills her, well… I certainly won’t cry for her loss.”

  “You can’t judge others for faults which are not yet theirs.”

  We both stayed silent for a moment. Xai, Yanetz, Aprin and Rovyul still hadn’t woken up. I suspected they pretended to be sleeping but were, in fact, listening to our conversation.

  Daerec said: “What will you do once you meet Cestia? Will you stay with her?”

  I must confess I did not know the answer to that question. Or rather, I knew it, but I didn’t want to admit it.

  “Your face says it all,” Daerec smirked. Now it was my turn to blush. “Your sappy feelings would have you put her before us.”

  I slumped down on the ground and looked away from him, focusing on some crumbling stairs in an effort to calm myself down. I didn’t want to get angry at my friend for exposing a secret truth. “There’s something you need to know, Daer
ec,” I told him. “Cestia’s father saved my life.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Chtomio, the Harlequin who helped me survive the ordeal of the wheel in Ayas risked his own life for mine. He was, in reality, Quadrio, your Red king.” I spoke to my friend about the moral quandary of the Red caste system that haunted his former king; of how, when I had known him merely as Chtomio, he traveled the territories in the guise of a humble merchant to study the political landscape and learn the truth for himself. He was a kind and intelligent chrome who never expected a reward or favor in return for his care. I also gave Daerec the details of my last discussion with him, revealing his greatest wish so that no secrets would divide us: Chtomio had devoted the later part of his life to starting a rebel band of Harlequin’s that he hoped would free everyone from the shackles of chrome.

  We didn’t talk for a while afterward, but I knew Daerec was thinking hard; trying to make sense of it all. Daerec wasn’t like the others. He was sharp and he absorbed new ideas quickly.

  “Do you believe me?” I finally asked.

  “Had you told me all this in Samaris, I probably wouldn’t have believed you,” he admitted in a low voice, “but after all the things you’ve told us about Harlequins and their real history, and all the things I’ve seen since our escape, I would be a fool not to.”

  “Will you come with me then?” I asked him.

  “Why do you need me?”

  “In case one of us dies, the other can come back and lead the others.”

  “You want to leave the others here?” Daerec completely missed the honor I was trying to bestow upon him.

  “You want to go without us?” Yanetz stopped feigning sleep. Xai did the same and so did Aprin and Rovyul.

  “It’s something I have to do,” I told all of them. “It only has to do with me. And I refuse to risk your lives for that.”

  “But you will return.” said Yanetz.

  “I’ll make sure he does,” replied Daerec. “I don’t want to be the leader. I’m not that big a blowhard.” He thumped me on the back and I was glad he’d heard me after all.

  And so… the hardest part of leaving Everdia was not convincing my Harlequin brothers to stay in the Green city. No… the hardest part was taking Daerec away from Failan.

  Her eyes misted over when I broke out the news to her.

  “You need not go, my young friend,” she quietly pleaded with Daerec. “I am sure Asheva can take care of himself. The Mother Goddess tells me he will be back and we can both wait for his return together.”

  “Well, my instinct tells me that he won’t come back in one piece unless I go with him,” Daerec said, clearly happy to free himself from the priestess’ attentions.

  I looked beyond them. Astor was carefully making his way toward our little group. He did not say anything but gave me a simple nod to, which I returned.

  Before leaving, Failan presented us with a small pouch of colored powders similar to the one the Green infants had used in the Moxia. “Please consider this gift a reminder that the Mother Goddess is everywhere you go and always ready to protect you.” And then, she summoned two shaggy, ox-sized, animals with a whistle.

  “These are trained Kerburs,” she told us. “They will take you to the border of the Green territory most quickly.” The beasts reminded me of the wild boars we hunted in Axyum, although these had armor-like thick gray skin and a sharp long horn above the nose.

  After we said our good-byes, no sooner had we mounted the two animals that they charged through the forest with surprising speed. Both Daerec and I almost fell off several times and I had to duck to avoid getting hit by the branches that flew past my head.

  I glanced back at Daerec to see if he was still following me. His face was a mask of fear that looked so comical I could have laughed – but I had no doubt I wore the same expression. “Asheva, watch out!” He yelled. I whipped around in time to see a thorny tree trunk blocking our path.

  “Stop!” I shouted at the Kerbur, but it was too late. I closed my eyes and flattened myself as much possible to the beast’s body. The next thing I heard was a dull sound, like a piece of wood being axed. I opened my eyes, surprised to find myself still on top of the Kerbur, who now wore a thick block of tree trunk skewered to his horn. The rest was in splinters behind us. Ultimately, the beasts slowed down to a trot of their own accord, stopping to guzzle water from a forest pool.

  All Daerec and I could do was hang on for the rest of that bumpy ride until, at last, we reached the end of the forest at dusk. The Kerburs stubbornly grounded to a halt at their first glimpse of the waving, grassy plains that marked the beginning of the Blues’ territory. They snorted and bucked, hinting with the subtlety of a sledgehammer that we should get off their backs. Then, fresh as if they hadn’t run at all, they turned around and quickly disappeared back in the bushes.

  Daerec and I looked at each other, both of us once more flashing twin expressions of pain and awe from the horrific beating our rumps had received. “Never again!” Daerec sputtered.

  “Aye,” I thought every bone in my body had been fractured.

  We were too tired to get a fire going and so we decided to lie down and wait for sleep, but it just wouldn’t come to me. I felt uneasy. The thought of wandering through the Territories again made me remember what I had lost when I first left Axyum to do so. That first journey seemed but a remote part of my past. Back then, I was a young Black chrome, knowing only what other Blacks wanted me to know. I had seen a chrome falsely accused and hanged for being a Harlequin in my town square. I had become a Harlequin, the worst nightmare of my youth, and in doing so I’d rolled the proverbial log off a bugs’ nest, discovering far too much ugliness about the territories. So much so that it now seemed like it would be better off staying hidden in the dark.

  Either way, I was still a fugitive.

  “You asleep?” said Daerec.

  “No,” I told him.

  “Any idea of where to go with the new sunrise?”

  I outlined my plan to him.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, in a drowsy voice. “You want to make yourself seen by everyone, without masks and cloaks so that they all will know you to be the Red Harlequin. You are either the chrome fullest of hubris that I ever met or the craziest.”

  “There’s a method to my madness,” I said. “The more chromes who see us, the easier it will be for Cestia to hear about it and find us.”

  “Right… and that’s good because she thinks you’re the one who murdered her father and she wants to kill you.” He chided. “Makes sense to me.”

  “Makes sense to me too,” I replied, grinning.

  “Assuming she’s still alive, how do you plan to convince her that you didn’t kill her father?”

  “By telling her the truth.”

  “She may not believe you,” he said. “Ach, even I have a hard time believing you!”

  Then, in a more lighthearted tone, he added: “So by your logic, in order to find Cestia, we should be mad enough to run around the territories revealing that we are Harlequins to any chrome who would take a particular pleasure in killing Harlequins.”

  “Precisely,” I said, but deep down I knew that if Cestia was anything like her father, she would find us sooner rather than later.

  For a moment, my thoughts drifted back to Chtomio, and his desire to unite the territories, along with his wild idea of having me become the Eldest of the Black. I smiled and mumbled to myself: “You need to rest, Harlequin, for soon everyone you’ll meet will want your head as a trophy.” I glanced over at Daerec. He was already snoring.

  The next morning, before exiting the forest, I painted my face chalk white and blood red with the colors used by the Green. I also stained our robes many colors: yellow, blue and red, as well as green and black – giving them the appearance of the patchwork Harlequin cloak I had been forced to wear in Ayas. Now I was certain no one would mistake us for regular chromes.

  We started our jour
ney by walking deep into the vast Blue plains. I gazed at the sky above us, watching two enormous flocks of swallows gather together. They blocked out the sun before they separated again, dancing together in the heavens. For a moment, I thought how nice it would have been to dance with Cestia in Samaris. We would move sinuously together, our two hearts beating as one.

  Wallowing through a sea of wheat brought me back to reality. It was chest high and ripe for harvest – making any headway was hard work indeed, but Daerec and I determined it would be better for us if we kept off the roads. Unfortunately, not enough time had passed before the first Blue Chromes spotted us. They were farmers, busy placing their harvest onto several carts that had been lined up in the fields. They greeted us from a distance.

  “Let’s go nearer to them,” I suggested.

  When we came close they saw we weren’t wearing any masks. They stopped what they were doing to stare at us and make comments.

  Daerec bowed with a flourish and proclaimed: “Lo and behold! The Red Harlequin!” This had an immediate effect. The farmers dropped their forks and ran for their lives, leaving their carts and the horses behind.

  “Hey! I’m beginning to enjoy this.” Said Daerec. Then, mocking me, he bowed once more. “Who should we scare next, my Lord?”

  “The merchants on the Cancerian,” I replied.

  “The Cancerian it is, then,” he said.

  The Cancerian was a huge, well-traveled road, always full of chromes making their way through the territories, from the Yellow territories to the north all the way down to the Blue plains to the south. Even from where we were we could see the towering Indigo pyramid of Ayas, where many chromes went to sell or buy wares and seek fortunes. Just then, a group of Violets crossed our path. Three of them rode on a buckboard mounted to the front of one of their trim little houses on wheels. I remembered enjoying the company of a traveling Violet husband and wife, named Jhute and Zimdie, who briefly shared their house with me. Those two Violets, like every chrome belonging to their strange Nation, made a practice of altering their faces by wearing a series of braces, until they were ugly as sin. All Violets were convinced this was the only way to achieve a true form of beauty no one else understood. At first, I was glad Jhute and Zimdie wore masks after I’d seen them bare-faced, but as I got to know them better I no longer remained focused on how they looked – only on how kind they were to me.