Robinson Crusoe 2244

by E. J. Robinson

  “He doesn’t know what real love is,” Robinson said. “Or maybe he did once and has forgotten.”

  “Is that what you believe? That after six months, your mother’s memory has passed from his mind? You’re not that big a fool, boy.”

  Robinson hung his head. “What history is there between father and Tier Saah? I know they’re both on the council. And rumor has it one of them will succeed the Regent when he retires. But it goes deeper than that, doesn’t it?”

  Vareen nodded. “When your father was your age, your grandfather made a pact to marry him to the daughter of the Tier of Rivers.”

  “Wait. You mean, Tier Saah’s wife?”

  “She was Janal Florencia then. Some say she was the most beautiful girl to ever walk the Isle. He used to visit her at the House of Healers where she apprenticed. But it was during those trips that he noticed a second girl who was beautiful in a different way. Strong willed but compassionate. And she had a gift for medicine that went far beyond those who had come before.”

  “Mother.”

  Vareen nodded again. “Alan Crusoe was not a man to be defied, especially by his own blood. He threatened to Exile your father and disown him. Even beat him senseless. But none of these could change his heart. When the Naming Day Ball arrived, Annabess and your father stood before the entire Crown and abdicated their apprenticeships for each other.”

  Robinson was stunned.

  “No one had ever turned their back on the Tiers before. They were prepared to live the lives of ordinary citizens or accept exile themselves. Your grandfather knew it was no bluff. It cost him most of his political clout, but in the end, Leodore remained a Crusoe and your mother along with him.”

  Robinson couldn’t believe it. Abdicating an apprenticeship? He’d never heard of such a thing.

  “I don’t tell you this story to give you ideas,” Vareen said. “Those were different times. But they do illustrate one undeniable truth: the greatest love anyone can hope for is the one for which you are willing to sacrifice everything. Make sure this girl is worthy of that before you do.”

  Later that evening, Robinson lay awake in bed, listening to the rain and trying to process all he’d been through and all he’d heard that day. He wondered if he’d have the strength to do as his father had and stand in front of the entire One People and choose exile because of love. If nothing else could make him a man in his father’s eyes, that would. But deep down, he knew the truth. He was a boy. And that was a man’s act.

  Just as he began edging off to sleep, Robinson heard a knock at his window. He slid tentatively out of bed and crossed to it. Tessa was outside.

  She was crying.

  Chapter Eight

  Forbidden Things

  “My father has forbidden me from seeing you,” she sobbed as soon as Robinson opened the kitchen door. He quickly hustled her into the parlor where they could whisper without worrying over waking the staff.

  “Mine gave the same order,” he said.

  “What can we do? We’re not enemies. I don’t even understand what they have against each other.”

  She was soaked through, so he bid her to wait as he went to retrieve some towels. When he came back, she had wandered into his father’s study. He was nervous. They were never allowed in here. But his father had gone out earlier and still hadn’t returned.

  Tessa was staring at a sketch of Robinson’s mother, shivering. He wrapped a towel around her.

  “You never told me what happened to her.”

  “Surely you heard? There was a medical emergency in Regen 4. She took a flyer and it crashed on the way there.”

  “But why didn’t she just use an authorized pilot to fly her?”

  “None were available.”

  She set down the photo and turned to embraced him. “I want us to start a life together. A family. But I feel as if something is about to happen.”

  “I feel it too.”

  “Earlier you asked me about the word campaign. Well, I snuck into my father’s office at home. I’m not proud of it. The truth is I didn’t expect to find anything. But there was a document on his desk with that word.”

  “A document?”

  “A confession. Tier Frostmore’s. He admitted to being part of the campaign, the gist of which I took to mean a revolt.”

  “Against who?”

  “Who do you think? The One People.”

  Robinson felt a sickening hollowness in his stomach. “Did Tier Frostmore mention any collaborations or implicate anyone else?” he asked nervously.

  “No. He had something on his person. A tincture of some kind. He drank it when the guards weren’t looking. That’s why he was acting so delirious yesterday. Robinson, do you suspect your father could be involved?”

  The question rocked him. “I can’t say. Is it any more improbable than yours?”

  “No, but I hope in my deepest heart it’s neither.”

  He agreed. They held each other and talked until their worries were tempered. The rain had lessened but not abated. She noticed something on the desk.

  “What’s this?”

  Tessa picked up a slightly curved instrument made out of wood and pulled two halves apart, revealing a shining blade within.

  “Be careful with that. It’s very old.”

  “Is it sharp?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t want to find out.”

  “This is contraband.”

  “I know. Very old contraband. My father says it’s been in our family for centuries. It was a gift from a foreign merchant to one of my ancestors when the Crusoes owned ships instead of flyers. It even has our family crest engraved there. See?”

  “It’s beautiful,” she said before setting it down. “What are we going to do?”

  Robinson thought long and hard. “As I see it, we have two options.”

  And as he spelled them out for her, Tessa’s eyes grew wider and wider.

  Shortly after she’d gone, Robinson returned to bed but still found sleep elusive. He had never doubted his father but was troubled by his many secrets. He needed to diffuse his suspicions and one thing kept coming to mind—the object his father held most dear.

  Robinson hadn’t been in his parents’ room since his mother died, and sneaking inside felt like a terrible violation. But when he saw his father’s suit hanging on the bureau, he couldn’t help but check the vest pocket. He found his mother’s locket.

  It too was very old, made long before the Great Rendering. None could confuse it as contraband, however. It was handcrafted with an elegant flower center-set. Robinson smiled. Holding it felt like holding a piece of her.

  But as he moved to return it, he felt something shift subtly inside. He looked closer and noticed a locking mechanism. He didn’t know what he would find, but his hands trembled when he depressed a small button. The locket split in half. Inside were two things: a small piece of paper and a circular disc. He knew the disc carried information. It was illegal for all but the Feed operators to possess. He unfolded the paper only to see it had a single number written across it:

  3853772

  He had no idea what it meant, but he knew it was important.

  The following evening, the family were dressed in their best clothes and rushed through the rain to load into the carriage.

  “I want you to be on your best behavior, children,” Vareen said as she continued to primp the twins. “This is a big day for your brother. Today, he becomes a man.”

  Robinson blushed.

  “Are you going to watch it on the Feed?” Tallis asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for all the five continents!” Vareen said.

  As Robinson was about to enter, Vareen pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear, “I’m very proud of you. And your mother is too.”

  He smiled but entered quickly, hoping she couldn’t see his tears in the rain.

  The muddy roads and spate of carriages made the ride longer than normal. It felt muggy inside the carriage despi
te the thunderstorm.

  “Roderick Illus said the ancients used to be able to predict the weather years in advance,” Tannis said unexpectedly. Tallis asked if that was true.

  “No one knows the weather before it knows itself, dear. Though I daresay calculating it a few days early was more than likely feasible.”

  “How?” Tannis asked.

  “The ancients once deployed sentinels to watch the skies from above.”

  “Sentinels?” Tallis asked.

  “Satellites, I believe they were called. Machines. One of the many wonders that elude us. And if we’re lucky, always will.”

  “Why?” Tallis asked.

  “Because any machine that is built for one purpose but can be used for another is dangerous. I shouldn’t’ve mentioned it. Even speaking of such things violates the Eight.”

  “Father,” Tannis said. “Vareen said she wouldn’t miss the ball for all the five continents.”

  Leodore grinned. “Do you doubt her?”

  “Of course not, but Roderick also said there are seven continents, not five.”

  Leodore’s mouth grew tight. “Someone needs to speak with Tier Illus about his son’s prattling.”

  “So it’s not true?”

  Leodore sighed. “Yes, it’s true. Our world has seven continents, not five. But two of those continents are forbidden to us. They are where the Great Rendering began and were lost to horrors I dare not speak about here. Their evil drove man to the brink of extinction. Those who survived agreed long ago never to risk return.”

  Father checked his pocket watch and shook his head. They had barely passed the communal fields and still had the span of the Clutch to navigate. “Let us speak of something lighter. Robinson, your friend Mayfus must be excited to attend his first ball.”

  Mayfus was Slink’s given name. The Naming Day Ball was the only time the Underclass got to attend an event inside the Crown.

  “Excited would be an understatement,” Robinson replied. “Slink’s been calling in all his father’s favors in hopes of earning an apprenticeship with the Tier of Media.”

  Leodore shook his head. “Your friend has no chance of working on the Feed.”

  “Why not? I’ve seen the underclass get apprenticed.”

  “Sure, in the northern Regens, and from Tiers foolish enough to believe they can make a statement. But not here in the capitol, and not by Balthazar Abett.”

  “What if you made an introduction on his behalf? If Tier Abett met Slink, I’m sure he would find him qualified and very deserving.”

  “Deserving has nothing to do with it. Mayfus is the son of a Wall Guard. It is his place to stand the post with his father and when he passes, in his stead. Just as it is your place to one day supersede me. These are our customs. These are our traditions.”

  “That doesn’t make them right.”

  Leodore looked at his son anew and was surprised to see the boy didn’t avert his eyes. He was riding to the Naming Day Ball in his crisp suit, looking more and more like a man. Too soon, he thought. I still have so much more to teach him.

  Chapter Nine

  The Naming Day Ball

  The Naming Day Ball was in full swing when Tier Crusoe and family entered the Great Room, but many heads still turned to mark their entrance. Leodore received respectful bows and One and Fours by every Tier he passed, but Robinson saw a few whisper or sneer after they’d moved on. Still, his father had an aura about him that created a kind of buffer as he walked, like a deep-hulled river craft that others avoided for fear of getting caught in its wake.

  The decorations in the massive ballroom were lavish with crimson banners that hung from balconies and giant chandeliers laden with candles glimmering brilliantly from above.

  Feed cameras moved effortlessly through the room. The attendees coveted the attention, sporting artificial derision while showing off their finest garments.

  Servers came and went from the kitchen, carrying plates of mouth-watering dishes as delectable odors filled the room. Others carried crystal decanters of wine and spirits. That night, not a single glass would run dry.

  At the foot of the grand staircase, Tier Saah and his family held court amongst a number of Tiers. As the Crusoe family passed, the two patriarchs exchanged nods, but it was Tessa’s eyes Robinson held until her brother stepped between them, glowering.

  Eventually, the twins were sent to the South Hall to join others their age, while others drew Leodore to the far end of the room. Robinson was left alone.

  “Well, look who decided to show up,” a familiar voice spoke.

  Robinson turned to find Slink standing with his father, the Bull, Captain of the Wall Guard. He was a daunting figure, barrel-chested and thick-armed, with ruddy skin and a dense, golden mustache flecked with red. His uniform was perfectly starched, with silver buttons that were only outshined by the pride in his eyes.

  “Slink! I mean … Mayfus. There you are.” He nodded to his father. “Ser Grey.”

  “It’s ‘Bull’ tonight, son. And from now on, I suppose. How are ya? Nervous?”

  “A bit.”

  “Shoulda seen this one. Preening in front of the mirror like a wee mare—”

  “Dad,” Slink growled.

  “All right then. I’ll leave you two to it.” He shuffled awkwardly off.

  “I swear he’s more of an embarrassment than the pimples that ambushed me this morning.”

  “He’s just excited,” Robinson said.

  “I don’t know what for. I might be getting Named, but tomorrow I’ll be standing the Wall right behind him. Have you seen it yet?”

  “It?” Robinson asked.

  “The render. It’s in the East Room. Thought there’d be more to it, really.”

  “Show me.”

  “Nuh-uh. I need to practice my words. I only have one chance to stand before the Crown. I don’t want to screw it up.”

  Robinson pressed through the clogged dance floor and made his way to the East Room, only to find it overrun with people trying to get a look inside. A few exiting looked pale and repulsed, but many others appeared excited.

  When Robinson finally made his way to the front, he found a cage perched on a small platform. Inside was a creature, humanoid in shape, but with three legs rather than two. One arm was stunted, flopping like a child’s, but its other was grossly distended with ropy muscle and a fist larger than a cantaloupe that bore talon-like claws. Its flesh was wet, intermingled with blood and pus that ran from ulcerated pocks tattooing its rigid back and chest. Despite these horrors, the creature looked sickly and sallow. Several children from Tier families stabbed it with blunt sticks, laughing as it howled.

  “Well, boy? Is it everything you imagined?” a familiar voice asked from behind him.

  Robinson turned. “Actually, Taskmaster. It looks rather pathetic.”

  Taskmaster Satu sneered, his eyes red from too much drink. Robinson had never known him to drink. “Does it now? I wonder if you’d feel pity for it if there weren’t bars between you? Or if you two met on the other side of the Wall?”

  Robinson shrugged bravely. “Give me a weapon and I like my chances.”

  This time the teacher laughed. “You wouldn’t last a day outside and we both know it.” He watched the boy deflate. “Your mother held a similar compassion for these abominations. She tried to see their humanity through the disease. Look what it got her.”

  “My mother died in a flyer accident. What do you mean?”

  Taskmaster Satu seemed to want to say more. Then he looked around. “Nothing.”

  “You’ve always hated me. I never understood why.”

  Pity bled across the teacher’s face. “I don’t hate you, boy,” he said softly. “Only what you’re destined to become.”

  “And what is that?” Robinson asked.

  Taskmaster Satu nodded toward the surly crowd. “One of them.”

  By the time the Spire Bells began to toll the start of the ceremony, the rain outside had grown into a
heavy downpour. Thunder could be heard over the music and once, the lights in the Great Room fluttered.

  Robinson joined his group of schoolmates to the left of the grand staircase just as the Regent and his Retinue arrived. Tier Saah took up position next to him, his head held high, his mouth a grim line.

  Robinson’s chest felt tight. He knew what he was about to do would rock the Townships, if not the very Isle. It might also destroy his father. But if he loved him, he would understand. He looked to Tessa. When her eyes met his he smiled, but she looked more nervous than he did at what was to come.

  “Citizens of the One People,” the Regent began, his voice melodious as it played over the Feed. “Tonight we celebrate the Day of Naming. It is a sacred tradition that began over two centuries ago, given to us in the form of the Third Law by our founders to ensure our continued way of life. Here, tonight, your children—our children—will take the final step in joining us in full citizenry by hearing their names read aloud and accepting apprenticeship in their parents’ trade.”

  He nodded and a group of Taskmasters stood up behind him. One familiar face was conspicuously absent.

  “In adherence to the Third Law, I give you this year’s Named.”

  With the reading of each name, one of Robinson’s classmates crossed to the dais and was offered apprenticeship under one of his or her parent’s name. Each accepted to the applause of the crowd and to the occasional sob of family members. Seleen Cottsfold, Powe Lawrell, Tius Absroy. Each proudly accepted their calling. And then Jaras Saah’s name was called. Robinson’s blood boiled as he walked smugly forward.

  “Jaras, as first son of your parents, you are named to the apprenticeship of your father, Vardan Saah, Tier of Civil Obedience. Do you accept this calling?”

  “Yes, my Regent,” answered Jaras. And as if fate designed to punctuate the moment, a streak of lightning and the roar of thunder set the lights fluttering again.