The Fifth Sacred Thing

by Starhawk

  I tried, I wasn’t strong enough. You see, Maya, it’s not the Good Reality or the Bad Reality, it’s El Mundo de la Fuerza, the reality of brute force, that is stronger than all our magic. Oh, Lily, it was a noble attempt. Fight on the landscape of consciousness, you said, but the body is too damn vulnerable, and we cannot win. We cannot win.

  36

  “You got to eat, ma’am,” the soldier said, distressed, picking up the platter of bread Maya had left untouched.

  “No, young man, there you’re wrong,” Maya replied. “I’m ninety-nine years old. I don’t got to do nothing. Anything.”

  “For real?” he breathed. He looked very young to Maya; perhaps they drafted them at fifteen or sixteen in the South. His eyes were wide and round in his copper face. “You really ninety-nine years old?”

  “Just had my birthday, back in June. Fog-Rolls-In Moon, we call it. Not that we were much in the mood to celebrate.”

  “Maybe you like some soup? Bring you some,” he offered.

  “I am a wild bird. I do not eat in captivity.”

  “You don’t eat, you die, ma’am.”

  “Call me Maya. It’s my name. What’s your name?”

  “Don’t got one. They took it when they took me for the army.”

  “Ridiculous. Nobody can take your name. You still remember it, don’t you?”

  He glanced quickly around the dark room, as if worried that someone might overhear them, and then nodded.

  “What is it?”

  “Tom,” he whispered. He looked around again. “Tomás, my mother used to say.”

  “Tomás, that’s a fine name. Mucho gusto, Tomás. Pleased to meet you. There, that was your name, and now you have it back. So you have a mother? You weren’t bred for the army?”

  He shook his head no. “Our unit, we come off the streets. Soup, ma’am? What you say?”

  “Why are you so worried about me?”

  “You die, you haunt me.”

  “I’d consider it. Intermittently, at least. Why does that bother you?”

  He shuddered. “Come out to the guardroom, ma’am. I need to clean this place.”

  “You’ll have to carry me.”

  “You hurt?”

  “No, I’m refusing to cooperate. It’s a time-honored political tactic.”

  “Okay, I carry you”—he hesitated, and then said her name—“Maya.” He set down the bread, slid his hands under her body, and lifted her, holding her out from his body as if afraid to allow too much contact. He carried her into the hallway, where a number of soldiers were stationed. They were all bronze-skinned, with dark straight hair; they all reminded her of Carlos, who had seduced her long ago and gotten her pregnant with Brigid, Bird’s mother. Three of them were playing cards at a desk they’d set up facing a bank of elevators. Tomás set her down on an empty chair beside the desk.

  “Watch her,” he said to the card players. “I got to clean her cell.”

  “Tie her,” suggested the soldier closest to Tomás, a big man with forearms so muscular they bulged out of his sleeves.

  “I ain’t gonna tie her. She’s ninety-nine years old.”

  “No shit?” The soldier turned and looked at Maya.

  “On my honor, as a Witch and a former Girl Scout.”

  The soldiers shifted their chairs away from her. Tomás took a bucket of cleaning materials out of a closet and disappeared into the room where Maya had been held.

  “You gonna put a spell on us?” asked another of the men. He had lost several of his front teeth, and his gums were nearly black.

  “I don’t need to,” Maya said. “You are already under a spell, a spell I’d like to free you from.”

  “Who got us under a spell?” asked the man Maya thought of as Muscles.

  “The General, of course. He’s got you under a spell of obedience. Otherwise, why are you here? You don’t want to be here, do you? When you could sit with us at our table, at the place we have ready for you?”

  “What you people mean by that?” asked the third soldier, whom Maya nicknamed Tiny to herself. “You mean we should come on over to your side, win the war for you? Then what? We die from no boosters?”

  “No fucking boosters half the time anyway, man, long as they keep losing trains,” Teeth said.

  “We’re on the edge of a solution to the booster problem,” Maya said, wondering if that were really true. “We’ve almost got it licked.”

  “Say you do,” Muscles said. “Say we come over, say we even win. Then what? What you do with us? How you feed an army?”

  “We don’t want an army,” Maya said. “We can’t feed an army. But we can offer you ways to feed yourselves. Land, if you want to farm. Work here in the City, if you prefer. A house to live in—a big one if you share it, a small place or an apartment if you want to live on your own.”

  “What kind of work?” Teeth asked suspiciously.

  “What kind of work would you like to do? We can train you for anything you like or apprentice you to one of the work groups. You could build transport towers, or help maintain the water systems, or raise silkworms. Some of you might even want to study at the university. We’re short-handed here in the North; we’ve got more that needs doing than people to do it. So we all work hard, I won’t lie to you. You’d have to work hard too. But you’d never lack for food or water.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Tiny asked. “What’s the catch?”

  “You’ve seen our city,” Maya said. “Have you found any slums? Any ghettos? You’ve seen who our leaders were, before you murdered most of them. You’ve seen that they come from all races, that no one group rules us. It’s true there are some things we won’t tolerate here. Rape, for one. Violence. But we’re offering you a chance at freedom. Isn’t that worth taking a gamble on?”

  They were silent. Behind the masks of their faces, thoughts were churning, even if Maya couldn’t read what they were. You see, Johanna? Rio, do you understand, now? This is what I was sent to do.

  Tomás emerged with the cleaning bucket. “The room’s clean, now. I can put her back.”

  Muscles shook his head. “Let her stay out here with us.”

  “Yeah,” said Teeth. “I like to hear her talk.”

  “I never thought it would come to this,” Sam said. “All those years I spent training: Stanford, Johns Hopkins. Those names meant something in my day. Who would ever have thought I’d come to depend on a Witch brewing potions from honey and sweat?”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch!” Madrone said. They were making rounds in Black Dragon House, where, after a week of her new treatment, almost all the deserters showed marked improvement.

  “Don’t complain, Sam,” Lou said. He held the wrist of one of the men who had been the sickest, taking his pulses in the Chinese medical tradition. “Just pray it continues working.”

  “Witches don’t pray, we incant,” Madrone said.

  Lou ignored her. “You’re doin’ fine,” he said to his patient.

  “I feel better.”

  “You’ll be well enough to get up in a day or two.” Lou stood. “That about covers it for today.”

  They went into the kitchen, where Lily sat drinking tea at the big round table. She rose and greeted them. At the counter, River was helping Mary Ellen chop vegetables for dinner. He had taken to following Madrone around, like a big Labrador puppy, but she would not allow him on rounds. Really, she was surprised at how well he seemed to adjust. He was used to following orders and was still most comfortable doing what he was told, either by her, because he trusted her, or by Sam, the oldest, whitest man around. And he delighted in helping Mary Ellen.

  “I understand him and his kind,” Mary Ellen said. “I know how to handle them. Firmly, and don’t turn your back until you sure they’re going to be loyal to you. Then let your enemies watch out!”

  Rations were getting scarce, but people all over the City contributed to feeding the sick soldiers, even when they had to go short themselves. Still, they of
ten ate odd things. Today, Madrone noted, Mary Ellen appeared to have harvested the lovage, an herb that grew prolifically and tasted like a bitter form of celery.

  “He’s still looking good,” Sam said, jerking his chin at River. “How do you feel? Still no fevers or pains?”

  “I feel good,” River said. “Don’t worry. She fixed me. When we gonna tell the rest of the army?”

  “How long has it been?” Sam asked.

  “It’s been ten days, for him,” Madrone said.

  “I still think we should wait at least a full two weeks. Six would be better. Just to be sure there aren’t any side effects or relapses.”

  “We don’t have six weeks, Sam,” Madrone said.

  “I know that. Fourteen days was our compromise.”

  “At this juncture, every day counts,” Lily put in. “The people are falling into despair. There’ve been so many deaths and losses. They haven’t yet turned to violence, but unless we can give them some hope soon—”

  “But if we announce that we have a cure for booster withdrawal, we’ve got to be damn sure we really do,” Sam said. “Otherwise, we’re going to end up with an army of ex-soldiers, sick, mean, desperate, and believing we betrayed them.”

  “Bird hasn’t been seen in the Plaza for a long time now,” Madrone said in a low voice. “Rosa can’t be found. Goddess knows what’s happening to them. And Maya—”

  Sam put his arm around her. “I know, I know. But it’s just a few more days. It’s looking good, Madrone. Let’s not spoil it by rushing.”

  “And Council?” Lily said. “Last night they almost approved a policy legitimizing assassination. Several of us blocked it, of course, but how long can we hold them back?”

  “Can’t you tell them we’re on the verge of something?” Sam asked. “Get them to hold out just a little longer.”

  “I’ve been saying that to them for weeks, long before it was remotely true. Sooner or later, they’re going to stop believing me.”

  “You’re probably right, Sam,” Madrone said, suddenly close to tears, “but I’m not sure I can bear it. I have horrible dreams about Bird every night, but when I wake up I can’t remember them.”

  Sam squeezed her shoulders. “Four more days, that’s all. Can’t you do some magic with your bees and find Rosa? Then you’d feel better, knowing what’s happening to her.”

  “Or worse,” Lou said, “as the case may be.”

  “Dream to her,” Lily suggested.

  “Nothing comes clear to me. I just have nightmares. Maybe I’m just losing it, running on too much adrenaline and not enough sleep.”

  “Tell me something new,” Lou said.

  “Three days, Sam?” Lily said. “Can we compromise on that? If you’re certain it’s necessary, we’ll wait. But no longer. One way or another, a change is coming. We can’t go on like this forever.”

  “We have, back where I come from,” Mary Ellen said, looking up from the chopping board.

  “No,” Lily said. “Even there, this can’t go on forever.”

  The bees were searching. Madrone lay in the garden in the warm sun, following their flight. Through narrow cracks they squeezed, up and down cold halls of stucco and cement, behind the locks of closed doors and into the grates of ventilation systems, winging swiftly through any opened door. Back they came, eager to escape the dead air and the chemical smell and the odors of pain. They had not found Rosa. No scent, no taste of a young girl’s fear or hope. Nothing. Only hints of Bird, something in their humming that sang of despair, a reek of decay. Follow that, she told them, changing something in her sweat so that the stink of rot and fear was scent-tagged as something desirable, a field of pollen-laden blossoms, a new source of honey. Find it, stay with it, cherish it like a precious larva to be tended and cleaned and fed. It is our hope, little sisters. Yours and mine.

  Without meetings, without consensus, without formalized strategies, people began to fill the streets. By day small groups sat down in the major roadways, impeding the movements of troops. When they were cleared, with blows or shots, others took their places. By night, spontaneous marches assembled, hundreds and finally thousands of people, dressed in white, roaring and chanting and marching through the streets while drums beat. Madrone joined them when her work for the day was done. It assuaged some deep need in her, to walk in company with others, voices raised. The soldiers just stood and watched. Whether they had been ordered not to fire or were afraid of ghosts, nobody knew. At times it seemed to Madrone as if the dead marched with them. Voices whistled in the atmosphere, and feet echoed off pavements where no living feet trod. Wraiths of fog hovered low to the ground and moved against the wind.

  A day passed, and another day. River was still well. He asked to march with her, stopping her on the front steps as she was on her way out, but she was afraid he might be recognized by someone from his unit.

  “Give it one more day,” she said. “Then we can decide how to let them know that they don’t have to fear withdrawal if they come over to us.”

  River shook his head. “What we waiting for? I’m not gonna have no relapse. I’m telling you, I feel good. I can feel the change. It’s like my body belong to me in a way it never did.”

  “I’m glad, River.”

  The drumbeat pulled her along, driving them all to the same rhythm; they sang chants in one hoarse voice, as if they had become one organism, one animal incandescent with rage. Something was about to break, here. Some tide was about to turn.

  The Council meeting was small, and one of the Voices was missing. Coyote, in his unmasked everyday form, had been shot the night before, trying to block a squadron of soldiers from destroying one of the transport towers.

  “We can’t meet with one of the Voices missing,” a young woman protested.

  “We’re going to have to,” said Joseph wearily. “I’m Crow for the day; I’ve made the decision. We don’t have a choice. There’s no time to choose a successor, and we’ve got things we have to decide.”

  “I don’t like it,” murmured a second woman. “It’s bad luck to ignore the Trickster. But I guess we’ve got to live with it.”

  “It’s a sign,” Cress said, standing up. “We’ve let them destroy too much, even one of the Four Sacred Things. When are we going to fight back?”

  “We are fighting back,” Lily said. “We’re on the verge of winning. Soldiers are coming over to our side every day.”

  “A few,” Cress admitted. “And some of us are defecting to their side.”

  “I don’t want to discuss Bird again,” Lily said. “We’ve had that debate.”

  “I didn’t say anything about Bird,” Cress protested. “You’re the one who brought him up. The point is, a few soldiers puking in makeshift hospitals on our side aren’t going to win this for us. They can bring up thousands of soldiers, hundreds of thousands.”

  “Yet another reason why we can’t win if we fight on their terms,” Lily said.

  “Lily, you don’t seem to understand that people are tired of your mystical bullshit. We’ve gone along with you so far, and what has it gotten us? Bullets in the head, the streams dammed, people dying in the streets!” Now Cress was up and shouting. Joseph jumped up and called for order, but Cress ignored him. “We’ve had it, Lily! One more massacre, one more round of deaths, and some of us are going to take action, Council or no Council!”

  “Then they will win!” Lily said, rising to her feet and raising her voice in response. “You’re threatening the very heart of what we’re fighting for! What keeps us together in this city, what allows us to build what we have built, is respect for this Council, for our mutual consensus. If you violate that, the Stewards won’t have to bother taking over. We will already be destroyed!”

  “When consensus blocks the will of the majority, it becomes tyranny!” Cress yelled.

  “You don’t have a majority! You have a vocal bloc!”

  “No, you have a vocal bloc, which is blocking what the majority wants to do!”
>
  “Process!” Joseph thundered. “Both of you, shut up! I will take comments only from those who have not yet spoken today.”

  Madrone stood. She was tired, tired, tired of all the arguments. One of these meetings was more exhausting than ten hours of healing. “I have good news,” she said in a flat voice. Try to sound a little cheerful, then. “We’ve developed a protocol for booster withdrawal that appears to be effective. We’re ready to start leaking that news to the army.”

  Cress opened his mouth to speak, but a look from Joseph silenced him.

  Sachiko stood up. “That’s wonderful, Madrone. So maybe more soldiers will defect now?”

  “We hope so,” Madrone said.

  “That’s speculation,” said the woman sitting beside Cress. “We don’t know for sure.”

  “But can’t we give it a little time?” Madrone pleaded. “A week or two, at least, to see what happens, before we go splintering off into factions and breaking the Council? It would be a shame to start shooting at the soldiers just when they might be about to come over to our side.”

  “If we’re going to mount an offensive, we have to do it while we still have some resources,” Cress said. Joseph glared at him.

  “We will never have enough resources to defeat them with guns,” Lily countered quietly.

  “I said I wanted to hear from those who have not spoken yet,” Joseph said.

  Silence fell on the room. Sachiko looked at Joseph. “I did speak once, but I wasn’t really finished,” she said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I think Madrone is right. We’ve got so much invested in this strategy, so many lives already lost. It only makes sense to give it a little more time to work, now that we have some real hope to offer the soldiers. I’d like to make that a proposal. But, Cress, I do hear your concerns. We can’t hold people back forever from taking actions they want to take.”

  “They’re not concerns,” Cress said. “They’re not threats. I’m simply going to state here, once and for all, what Water Council and our allies intend to do. Unless there’s some radical change in the situation in the next few days, we intend to take autonomous action. We won’t block your proposal, but we won’t bind ourselves to abide by it either.”