Striking Chains

by Kris Schnee

  Jakob said, "What would it mean to have 'estates'? Would we own a bunch of peasants?"

  "Well... not 'own', but you'd have certain rights and responsibilities. As magic users you'd owe a certain amount of service to me, hopefully for peaceful purposes most of the time. Creating enchanted items for instance."

  Dominic asked several questions about the exact relationship between Mithraic nobility and their tenants. It was similar to that of Citizen and Bound, but these peasants had a right to leave a terrible master, weren't subject to whipping, and lacked traditions like the taking of young children from their parents.

  Marion in particular was aghast when he heard Dominic ask about that one. "I thought that was just a slander against your people. Is it done as a punishment for some crime like invading and looting the next village over?"

  "No; that would be different. It's... it's our tradition. It keeps everyone loyal to their Citizens and the State rather than to their families."

  The Duke shook his head and took a drink. "I would expect you to be a better lord than that. Or, I suppose you could take to the sea with your new ship."

  "It's ours?" said Jakob, drawn out of his side conversation with Marion.

  "So long as you don't give it back to the enemy! I'd happily buy it, too, if you won't use it for war. What will you name it?"

  Jakob grinned. "Dolphin!"

  Dominic drank and looked the gathered guests over. "That brings us back to the first question. There are more enemy troops coming. I'd meant to drive Baccata away from you, but they're washing right back into place. What prevents them from simply rebuilding the old fort and making everything we did pointless, but for taking one ship and ruining people's lives?"

  "We can put siege engines in unexpected places," said Perrin. "And wolves hiding in the grass. When they come in, we get them! Then their other forts."

  Dominic glared at him. "The goal isn't to 'get' as many people as possible."

  The Duke said, "More of our men are coming, but what stops the easterners, potentially, is you. Supplies are being laid in for a possible siege, so don't expect another big meal very soon. I don't think a siege is likely, since we should be able to hold our supply lines and our farms. I've also got several hundred prisoners, but they're more of a cost and danger than an asset. Your people put no value at all on getting them back."

  Dominic said, "They're not my people any longer." He was bound to this new nation. He still wasn't sure of its rightness, but if he turned traitor again for his own advantage, he'd know he had no principles at all. "Let me speak to the prisoners. They don't need to be anyone's Bound anymore. I hadn't realized how willingly our troops would throw down their weapons against 'barbarians', but they have no reason to fight against you."

  "No reason at all?" asked the Duke, raising one eyebrow. "My, why hasn't it all collapsed already?"

  "The State... keeps people together. Makes us -- them, feel like part of a single family, working together. That's on a good day. Sometimes it's more like one caste against another, bound together by fear and violence." He shut his eyes, thinking of Ben's fate.

  Jakob put a hand on his shoulder. "I've seen more of the murderous side of the State than you have. The cruelty."

  "Not cruelty, exactly. Even the abuse Shirker's Noose has gone through is a sort of mechanism, for keeping the island too crushed down to interfere with larger plans."

  Jakob said, "If the State thinks my people aren't even worth being cruel to, then we have no reason to love the State in return."

  "Love. I don't know that I ever loved Baccata. I never even questioned my role before I learned magic."

  Duke Cecil had been listening. "Would you two say you are men of..." He consulted with others to find the right word and translate it. "Conviction?"

  Jakob said, "I know what I want to fight against, and I hope we can be friends."

  Dominic answered, "Right now I'm... uncertain. I believed that our society justifies the violence we do. But if there's a better way to live, I can't condone our system anymore." He looked aside, ashamed of his career so far. Even now, what good would it do to embrace this foreign version of the State, if he served it with the same blind obedience?

  The Duke leaned forward on his throne. "Maybe you should speak again with our priest, to settle your doubts, before you try persuading anyone else."

  * * *

  Dominic went to a little chapel near the palace, and listened to the holy man's prayers and explanations of what was right and good. Seeming to read Dominic's mind, the preacher said, "I'm not asking you to abandon your own judgment. Use it, instead, and raise the banner that to you shines brightest."

  The former Servant looked at the moonlight shining through the simple windows of this place, onto an ornate tapestry in red and gold. The cloth was slightly frayed, but it was still a work of beauty. He nodded and sighed. "I think I can speak to the prisoners in terms they'll understand."

  * * *

  The captives crowded the old prison building. Long ago, the same giant underground cage had housed Mithraic prisoners when Baccatans held the city, so sun marks etched the stone walls as though the people there had needed to remind themselves what daylight was. In the time since the city's capture, the place had become a storehouse, so everything had been hastily cleared out to make room. The little dungeon beneath the Duke's keep had a connecting tunnel to it. Dominic used that; all the other entrances were bricked over or heavily guarded to avoid a repeat of the ancient break-out.

  Hundreds of dirty faces looked up when they heard his footsteps in the darkness. An armed Mithraic mage created a tiny sun between his hands using a crystal lamp, and hung it on a hook. Iron bars separated Dominic, the mage, and the priest from the people Dominic would have fought beside just days ago. He addressed them in Baccatan. "If you haven't met me yet, my name is Dominic. Formerly a Servant." He held up his old mask. "I changed sides because it was the right thing to do. So should you."

  "What do you want with us?" said one of the captives, straining against the bars. Another one said, "What do you get out of this? You were already a Servant!"

  "Yes, exactly! I could have had an easy life back home, but I saw that the Holy State -- isn't. It hurts people systematically. Even you acknowledge it: I was supposedly your Servant, yet I really outranked you and was richer and more powerful, and everyone knew it. So the Holy State is built on a lie."

  He paced in the open space outside the cage. "You weren't allowed to leave your home villages without being ordered to. Those of you who were Citizens, your Bound resented you, and your whole lives were just as constrained in other ways, starting with navy service. When I got plucked out of my little village to become a Servant, I suddenly had choices, and I found that the whole world had opened up. I could go places, learn, make my own decisions. And it was wonderful. You could have that."

  "So you want us to sign on to some barbarian religion?" someone called.

  "To listen to it, at least. The man beside me knows much more about it than me, but he convinced me it was worth trying. And that's after years of me reading and listening to official Baccatan doctrine, and seeing more of the world than most of you had. There's no branding involved, only oaths and a commitment in your hearts. Right now, you're in darkness in more ways than one."

  The priest spoke in Baccatan words he'd translated with care and Dominic's assistance. "'Those who have seen only the night do not recognize day.' Baccata is a land of endless night of the spirit."

  "You sold out!" The new voice seemed to make the crowd ripple to either side, to make way for the one who'd spoken. Servant Irene, stripped of her mask and robe -- and most of her left arm.

  "Irene... I'm sorry. I tried to heal you as well as I could." Her wounds had been bad, but after his quick treatment he'd had reason to hope there'd be little permanent harm. His own leg and lesser cuts would be fine in a few days. To see the stump where her elbow should have been made him queasy.

  "I, I, I! You decid
ed to only think about yourself, instead of us. All of us." She waved her remaining hand around the whole captured group. He saw crude tables, filthy chamber pots and barrels of bread and water in the dusty shadows. Irene said, "The Holy State serves everyone. Yet the minute you went elsewhere you fell in love with these foreigners. You were a taut bowstring just waiting to find something different and shiny to set you off. I heard your skepticism all the way here. You even came to this area not because you were eager to fight for your homeland, but to learn more about the strange outsider culture, didn't you?"

  Point to Jeanne, Dominic said, suddenly wishing he could hide behind a mask. He parried. "And what I saw persuaded me. Why aren't we allowed to know more? To let their priests tell us their 'evil lies' so we can laugh at them directly? To give everyone access to books about how the State really works, and the truth about how outsiders live? Tell me, Irene, was there any evidence for that rumor about the Mithraists chopping off babies' fingers as a sacrifice to their god?"

  The mage wiggled his ten fingers.

  Irene said, "They wouldn't show that to tourists they want to impress, you fool. But anyway, you admitted you still don't know much about who these people are and what they believe. A few days' exposure and you're willing to throw away everything you stood for."

  Dominic held up one hand. "Wrong! As you admitted, I'd been troubled by how we live even before I came here. I was that taut bowstring you spoke of. Then, I really did find something better to believe in."

  "And what is that? The ability to live like a Servant without the mask? You're a damn selfish man. How many of your countrymen are you willing to kill so that you can avoid taking responsibility for what you are?" Irene covered her face with her hand's splayed fingers, a typical gesture of the masked, and spoke more quietly. Just for him. "We're people with the gift, Dominic. We didn't ask for this power, but it's a wonderful thing, and a lot of obligation comes with it. The State gave us training, knowledge, and the ability to make those choices you care so much about. If you come back with me, I'll tell everyone that we fought side by side."

  Dominic shook his head. "That's no longer an option. They'd kill us, all of us. Including all of you behind the bars. Don't you see? They don't want you to know there's another way to live. And they're so scared of anyone finding out, that they'd cut you off like diseased leaves. They're afraid of you now in Baccata. Afraid of what you can become."

  The Bound and Citizen prisoners murmured. "I don't have the gift," one of them said. "So what are you really offering?" another asked.

  It was like they hadn't heard him, trying to tell everyone about this new life he'd found. Maybe it was that they'd never been exposed to a Servant's life and scholarship, or just hadn't had the chance to walk around and meet the brave people of St. Wylan. He fell back on the most direct way to appeal to them. "If you become good Mithraists, you can leave this prison. You can go. Or better yet, you can keep on with the soldier's life, but have better food, better equipment... and be on the side that just won two victories and is about to win more."

  * * *

  Dominic spent the next few days in a whirl of activity. It was a little like being back on Temple Island, with so many books to read and so much else to work on. He had time at last to look through his hasty notes from the library. This time he could consult freely with librarian Dormier and get better translations of the trickier parts.

  Then there was the sparring match with Rose, well attended by curious Mithraists eager to see two outlanders' fighting styles at once. Rose could tag him again and again with leather balls she flung from her sling, or a better sling attached to the end of a staff. With his greater size and strength he could usually overpower her with staff against staff, but she had better melee training. When she dared him to fight on a balance beam, he had no hope at all. As for magic, she could barely even see the Weave, scoring a two on his six-circle chart. He said, "How many of your people are mages?"

  Rose said, "Say there're a hundred people. I understand that for humans, something like 50 can at least sense magic. Maybe less way out in your old country. 5 or so can cast a spell, and 1 in 100 can call themselves 'wizards' and not get laughed at. For us, it's more like 99 in 100 to sense it, 10 to use it, and 5 making money off it."

  Marion had attended their latest duel. He said, "We've had more contact with the Velesians. They've gotten a reputation for being all magic users, but that's partly because they've got tools that even a bit of magic can enhance."

  Rose demonstrated by flexing her sling-staff with a touch, so that to Dominic's trained eyes there was extra force powered by the Weave. She said, "Honestly, we like humans to think we're all unstoppable wizards, but most of what we do is more like gardening. My town's mines have vines that pump the water out, for instance. And you ought to come someday to see the Great Oak and the Amber Road."

  "I'd like that," Dominic said. "Your staff there is like our siege weapons. Do you trade these enchantments with the Mithraists?"

  "Mostly the portable kind, yes. They have some neat things of their own."

  Marion prompted, "And if the forest-folk were in peaceful contact with Baccata..."

  Dominic imagined the Velesians using their spellcraft to improve the lives of his people. All the more reason to replace the rule of the Boundless One, who'd never allowed it.

  But what had him thinking the most was Jakob's new obsession, Sir Marion's project with the animals. Dominic visited Jakob and Marion in the city parkland that had become the den of the awakened wolves. "How much do they really understand?" he asked both of them.

  "Well enough not to attack the townsfolk," said Marion. He reached down to scratch the ears of one of them. "And they're as loyal as dogs. Started them out as pups, just weaned, and worked with them until they trusted me like part of their pack. A couple of other people seem to get along with them well too, like the feeble-minded man that lives in the church."

  "You took them from their parents, then? Several families' worth of pups?"

  Marion wrestled playfully with one of the wolves, who was nearly as big and heavy as himself. It was a ridiculous sight to see the noble knight tussling on the grass. "Wolves don't have the same notion of family as we do." He seemed to recall something. "You said that in Baccata, you don't know your parents?"

  "Right. That's just it. You treat these creatures like we treat people." Or, he supposed, Baccata treated most of its people like dogs.

  Marion rubbed the wolf's belly and let the creature wriggle blissfully. He grinned and said, "We're doing them a favor. The life of a wild wolf is not an easy one."

  Jakob said, "The dolphins were different. He lured them in with fish, then gradually worked on them with the spell. They were free to come and go as they liked, and they kept coming back and getting smarter."

  Dominic felt more reassured by that. "Recruits, in a sense!"

  Marion said, "Extended family, to me."

  Dominic said, "What do you have by way of potential familiars?"

  "You could try your luck with any of our awakened creatures; see if they'll accept you. Or bring anything here and I'll try the awakening spell before you join formally with them."

  "Couldn't I just learn the awakening spell myself?"

  Marion sat up and the wolf nuzzled him. "I'm not sure you could. Ever been in love?"

  Dominic winced. The closest he could think of was Julia, the tavern girl who'd taught him to read. And who'd chosen not to try learning from him in return. He said, "What does that have to do with it?"

  "It's the same idea you're dancing around, by thinking about the welfare of these animals and what choices they have. Whether you succeed or fail depends partly on what you think love means." The knight suddenly looked directly at Dominic. "And I'm not sure that applies only to whether you get yourself an enchanted pet."

  * * *

  Dominic came to the keep's courtyard when the Duke called for him once more. He found row upon row of men waiting, unshaven and watche
d by suspicious guards. "They said they'd join and fight," the Duke told him, "But only if a Baccatan commands them."

  Dominic opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. These were his old countrymen, willing to fight people who might have shared festivals with them, or invade towns where they might have been born. He was honored by their request, angered by their willingness, and gnawed by guilt about his own motives. His cheeks flushed. He walked in front of the first row and snapped, "Do you have so little love for your home?" They didn't answer. "Someone speak!"

  Not a one of them spoke. Dominic forgot the presence of the Duke and his armed men, and shouted at these ignorant peasants. "You think like a bunch of slaves! Were you won over by the promise of getting out of that stinking prison, or by the thought of better food? If you're just a mass of people who shuffle along under the orders of whatever master comes along, what good are you? Damn! Are you afraid to answer me?"

  He paced back and forth with his hands behind his back. "Do you know what helped turn me? I saw the men and even the women of this city acting on their own initiative, before the officers got moving. Their willingness to take action made them stronger than you. They didn't wait for instructions from on high. And... Back a few years, the Servant who found me told me to quit thinking like a Bound, by handing me money and giving me authority to be my own officer, to improve myself however I wished. Once I'd done that, I started to see how other Bound didn't want to get out of being Bound. So. Are you all little toy soldiers who're too scared to stand up to abuse? All it takes is one man to throw a punch or say a word. Yet not one of you --"

  "Sir!" Dominic heard the voice from somewhere in front, and turned to continue pouring out the contempt he felt for these people. A fist flashed out and struck Dominic on the cheek, sending him staggering. A laugh went up from somewhere behind, then vanished.

  Dominic grinned fiercely. "You know I could have you killed for that, right?" he told the ragged man who'd done it.

  The man rubbed his fist, then made himself meet Dominic's gaze. "Yes, sir! My life is in your hands. And you'd be an idiot."