The Immortal of Degoskirke

by Michael Green

  “People’s people! Hold your mulch till the encore, please!” Dean’s awkward voice called out. “Will you judge before hearing me?”

  The crowd grumbled.

  The sign says this is Redvolutionist territory. I hope Dean knows what he’s doing.

  Blue sighed. “It doesn’t look like this is going to end anytime soon, and he’s already surrounded by guards.”

  Dean continued as the grumbling settled. “You are noble in intention, even my mangled eyes can see that. But, I’m telling you, this could be a much better part of town.”

  The people booed.

  “Judge us not by our dust and ragged clothes! Thus stricken are the zealous foes of the elite! These are badges of the Revolution!” the man in red and black bellowed.

  Dean held up his hands for silence. “I see that! But the issue is, I’ve been going through your local laws,” he tapped the absurdly massive book that hung from a pair of chains behind the stage. “I see that you still technically have an agreement with the Free Green Goblins of the Wreck. I’ve learned that they are a garbage service.”

  The crowd grumbled, and Dean’s opponent wasn’t sure where he was leading.

  “Yes, it is worth grumbling about. People of People’s Plaza, you’ve been robbed!”

  The crowd exploded. Violence erupted for an awful few seconds, but Dean, surprisingly, looked confident behind his thick wall of guards.

  “You have been robbed, by this man!” Dean pointed at his opponent.

  “Slander!”

  “You pay taxes in excess of seventy five percent! It’s driven three dozen, so-called, traitor businesses out of the parcel, and another five dozen businesses have collapsed altogether, but the remaining companies have been parcelized. That means the Redvolutionists own them, and they keep good records; so, they know exactly how much money is being made.”

  “Look! The noble auditor, he’s come to bewitch and befuddle you good people with charlatan’s tricks. He intends to use his elite education—”

  Elite education—hah!

  “—to confuse and agitate you against your own party!”

  “It is actually very simple. You have squeezed an amazing amount of wealth and capital out of this parcel. But where is the trash service? You could pay for it a hundred times over, every month, with what you make, even after devastating the community!”

  The crowd was silent for a change, as if in some dissociative fugue.

  “Garbage! He complains about garbage! People starve in the streets and the Redvolutionist cause chooses to feed the starving! And if the roads aren’t up to your pedigreed specifications, you may be damned, because we hold ourselves to higher than superficial standards!” the Redvolutionist concluded, tugging nervously at his collar.

  Parts of the crowd cheered, while others still grumbled, arguments broke out between a few spectators.

  Blue leaned in to Letty’s ear. “I’m going to try something. Do not move from this spot, or it will take me three days to get you free again,” Blue complained, before leaping off her shoulder and scurrying straight up a two-story building.

  Letty spotted the mouse climbing a cable over to the plaza, right as Dean calmed the crowd.

  “Yes, food is far more important than trash removal.” The crowd grumbled again. “But I’m glad he brought up food. I see that in the Redvolutionist addendum, subsection: Wholesale Independence—”

  “I’ll give him this,” Dean’s opponent interrupted, “he is devoted to reading our founding documents.”

  “Well, this is an addendum, and was added on later, but I’d like to point out that your policy of self-determination, as nice as it might sound, is responsible for the vast majority of the structural collapses,” and with more emphasis, “also known as destroyed homes and buildings, in this parcel! This lawful document demands tiny patches of farmland on the roof of every building!”

  “No, no! The record clearly shows that the past rulers of this parcel, elitist monarch sympathizers to the very last one of them, built these structures as cheaply and shoddily as possible, in their attempt to further defraud their tenants!”

  “Are you seriously telling me that these buildings should have been built to sustain all that soil? Look at that one over there!” Dean pointed across the plaza at the ruined building Letty and the Caspians were hiding behind. “It’s fallen down, and all that soil caused it.” The Redvolutionist tried to interrupt, but Dean continued. “I understand city farming can be a good idea… when the prices of food are high! But, prices of food from the Wreck are low, especially compared to the costs you sustained buying supplies, soil, fertilizer, and equipment, as well as the damages! You could have spent a fraction of the cost on actual food!”

  “Those farmers—they’re enemies of the people!”

  “Farmers? Enemies of the people? They sound like they are the people! And if you had allowed the parcel to buy the cheap food, they could have spent their time on more productive pursuits, instead of farming in the middle of a city! And we wouldn’t be swimming in garbage, broken buildings, and promises that were so flawed to begin with, that it’s a joke you’re still standing here!”

  A segment of the crowd cheered for Dean, while several uniformed people looked ready to start more violence. Letty wasn’t sure if they were angrier with Dean or their representative.

  The referee mice in the stands called the debate for Dean, who was immediately awarded two Sici from his foe. Dean gave the stage to a Braid, who immediately extolled the virtues of a free market, despite the mob, which attacked their representative. Letty was impressed, and she thought Dean might make a respectable politician one day. The Caspians both wore approving looks.

  A moment later, Blue landed on Letty’s shoulder. He bore three large silver coins on his back, which he gave to Letty. “Turn left at the fork. We need to find a money changer and get on to the Sink.”

  “So, that’s how government works here.” Quill said, a little astonished.

  Blue rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe the range of crazy ideas, religions, backwards philosophies, and people claiming to speak for the Secular God. You name it, and it’s probably governed a portion of this city at one time or another. As insane as it might seem to someone who worships a snake, the standing parties have been whittled into near perfection over the centuries. Though people get lazy in places like the People’s Plaza, and certain factions simply expect no one to challenge them in the heart of their territory. I expect you’d find corruption in the Braid home squares, not like this, but it exists.”

  Staza and Quill scowled at Blue. He didn’t care.

  They don’t really worship Pythia, do they?

  The conversation died down as they followed Blue’s directions.

  “There we go, a silver corner,” Blue said, pointing at stands and shops all market related.

  Letty spotted accountants, banks, actuaries, church and guild offices, as well as money changers.

  Blue directed them past a pair of hawking goblins, and to a tiny stand nailed to the awning post of another, human-sized stand. The tiny stand was run by a small team of suited mice, who were pouring over ledgers.

  “Brothers!” Blue called.

  The mice looked up, unimpressed.

  “No loans,” one said.

  “Nay! Letty, produce the coins. Three Sici stamped by the Archatian mint. One is even collectible, look the figure is facing the wrong way.”

  The lead moneymouse waved the other mice back to work, straightened his shirt, and stood up to inspect the coins which were quite large in his paws.

  The moneymouse hummed and hawed for a moment, before looking up at Blue. “How much do you want for them?”

  “What they are worth. They are Sici, after all.”

  “Well, they are, and they aren’t—”

  Blue sputtered. “You damned bazaar mouse! Pay the bloody rate and take your five percent! Don’t think to bandy with me like you would some bumpkin!”

&
nbsp; The moneymouse shrunk under Blue’s ceaseless barrage. “Yes—” he finally said, checking a nearby book for the values.

  Blue hopped onto the shop front and swiped the book to have a look.

  The moneymouse glanced at his neighbor, a sarcastic looking ychorite, who was trying not to laugh at the absolute thrashing the moneymouse had just taken.

  “Yes, thirty-eight seculons, and a dozen ludma. Thank you, I’ll have this back before tomorrow,” the moneymouse said flatly, to his neighbor, who he was apparently in business with.

  Letty accepted the bag from the ychorite and counted the coins, before nodding to Blue.

  “I hate to ask where you got those Sici,” the ychorite said.

  Blue gave him a glare and motioned Letty away.

  “Blue, did Dean know you took those coins? I watched you climb onto him, but I don’t think he noticed,” Letty said.

  “No, I swiped them from his pocket, right before he got the two new ones. The small riot distracted everyone, despite how predictable it was,” Blue concluded.

  “Hmm, so when are we going to get Dean and Emma? I also have all my stuff locked up in the Secular. All our gear is there—”

  “One thing at a time, girl. We’re going to learn about Andy first. We’ll pay one of my contacts to bring out all of our things, and the less useful surfacers, at the right moment. Then we’ll escape the city, possibly through a portal, with our things, our surfacers, and we’ll be ready to hunt down Andy.”

  Letty whistled approvingly.

  “Well done, Blue. I didn’t realize you had such a knack for strategy,” Quill said.

  “Well, a decade on campaign with a bunch of brain-dead points—it was become a strategist, or be eaten by brutox. I do miss them sometimes.”

  “Maybe we’ll find your friends, too,” Staza said, “they know Andy, they might want to join up with us.”

  “Join up?” Blue scoffed. “What are you going to do after we find Andy? Go back to your viper’s pit, that’s what.”

  “No,” Staza snapped. “We’re—”

  Letty turned and saw Staza and Quill looking at her intently. “What is it?”

  “You’re a Seer, Letty.”

  Letty was silent.

  “It’s just that real Seers—” Staza started, not sure how to say what she meant.

  Letty turned down an empty alley, stopped walking, and rounded on her friends. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Staza looked hurt, and Quill seemed unsure.

  Blue spoke up. “You’re all children anyway. The old Seer’s calling—” he shook his head and ruffled his whiskers, “It made sense a thousand years ago, but not anymore. The ryle are a fact of life. Crusading to free the surface and the Netherscape was a romantic dream, fit only for the suicidal,” Blue said, with a note of certainty in his voice. “There is no shame in accepting that fact. I was a soldier for ten years, and I never felt like a coward knowing that I was at odds with my species’ first purpose. The same is true for you. You were meant to be killers, but you don’t have to be.”

  Letty didn’t like the sound of that. She felt the urge to argue, but simply turned away and started back down the alley.

  “You three might want to have a few of those carrots, if we can find some; your eyes are starting to show,” Blue added, as they continued, downhill, towards a tall, black dome.

  Letty ignored this suggestion and stopped as they approached a flooded intersection. The water lapped up against an embankment made mostly of fallen structures dragged to serve as a makeshift shore. Algae and shore plants cropped up in the debris.

  “But the dome is further out. It must be flooded,” Letty said.

  “Part of it is, as I recall. I hope you don’t mind getting a little wet. The shore water isn’t the same as the sea tar,” Blue said, tugging at his whiskers, and looking for the right way.

  “Sea tar?” Letty asked.

  “Did you see the shore at Caspia? It looks like tar, and the things that live in it—” Quill trailed off.

  “The roof way! That’s what they call it. Letty, climb up on that building,” Blue said.

  They climbed up the side of a collapsed and half-sunken house. Letty looked out onto the flooded streets. Bridges connected several buildings, roof to roof.

  They traveled towards the dome, but minutes later, they were intercepted by teal-skinned men, clad in black armor and bearing barbed spears. The men had appeared all around them, some dripped with water, while others fell upon them from cracks between the buildings.

  “Friends, let me be the first to welcome you to the domain of the mer,” the leader, wearing a red velvet scarf under his helmet, but over his breast plate, said with a slight flourish. “How may we help you?”

  Blue cleared his throat to make sure that they noticed him. “Fair soldiers of the crystal shore, we seek to conduct business at the Sunken Temple,” Blue said, sounding unsure of himself.

  The soldiers shared a look.

  “Though we may look destitute next to these flooded wrecks, I can assure you, friends, that the cost of any such business is to be weighed in gold,” the lead guard spoke firmly.

  “Of course,” was Blue’s response.

  Satisfied, the guards escorted the party towards the dark dome. Further into the Sink, they saw barges and small poled craft. Children swam in the waters, and people waved at them from windows and the flooded streets.

  “They’re friendly here,” Staza said, waving to the children.

  “Because they love you, Seeress,” a guard said.

  “What?” Letty replied, surprised.

  “Your blood is remembered by my people. History is still alive here. That faith is being rewarded as well. We are expecting a new Voice of God to bring righteous change to our city.”

  “And we expect it quite soon,” another replied.

  “I told you, you need more of those carrots,” Blue whispered in Letty’s ear.

  The guard laughed, “Fair builder, the sight of you is fondly reminiscent of my favorite stories. Seeing you sat upon a Seer’s shoulder, fulfilling your duty, lifts my spirit. We have always had faith in your kind. Secular life never suited you.”

  Blue scoffed and folded his arms, though the torrent of complaints Letty expected never came.

  They approached the stairs of the dome, which emerged from the water and climbed another dozen feet before terminating at a broad, flagstone paved foundation supporting the great dome.

  The entrance was heavily guarded, and their escort bid them, “please wait a moment,” as he went inside.

  Letty looked around from her high place on the temple steps. She saw boats and swimmers approach and climb the steps. The guards became more attentive, but did not stop the mer as they neared Letty and the Caspians. The locals crowded around. Whispers picked up, and Letty heard the word, “Voice,” “Seers,” and “Argument?” on a number of tongues.

  Letty studied the structure and saw damage to the pediment. It looked like pieces of the building had been torn away.

  “The name of this building was once written there. It is now lost,” Blue said to Letty, following her gaze. “It is now the Sunken Temple.”

  The lead guard reappeared, followed by six women, each as striking as the girl Letty had seen on the avenue earlier that day. They wore extravagant and ornate gowns, though each was light of color, and featured decorations from the sea in construction or decoration. Letty saw shells, mesh nets, sea weed, scales, and even layers of fine bones.

  They almost remind of the clothes the Caspians wear, only less like armor and more for decoration.

  The lead guard gestured towards them. “High consort, these are the visitors. They even have a builder guiding them.”

  Letty felt Blue shuffle uncomfortably on her shoulder.

  “We sense the Argument. Are we wrong?” the lead consort, a tall woman of trim, yet still pronouncedly feminine form, asked.

  Letty looked at Staza and Quill. Neither seemed sur
e.

  Oh, well. What’s the harm?

  Letty held out her hand and presented the Argument.

  They didn’t seem pleased by the sight.

  “Do you wield it?” the high consort asked.

  Letty sighed, and grasped the orb tightly. The blade appeared.

  The crowd gasped and then cheered. Several guards took off their helmets and dropped their weapons.

  The consorts all responded differently. Some seemed angry, while others behaved like those in the crowd. The high consort let loose a shriek at the sight of so much awe and rushed inside.

  Another spoke, “So, it’s true. There is more than one committed Seer, and this one is a female at that. Does this mean the reign of the Usurper, is over? Will we return to the old days?”

  The remaining consorts seemed unsure.

  Letty released the blade and spoke, “What do you mean by committed Seer? All three of us are Seers.”

  The consorts laughed.

  “No, no,” a consort, wearing a violet gown, replied. “There are still countless thousands with the Seer blood, but you would find not one of them who could grasp that orb—or maybe not, perhaps things are changing. Is reason coming back? Either way, any person with violet eyes merely has the chance to start down the path of a true Seer. For quite some time, Caspian has been the only committed Seer in all of Pansubprimus, and that is only because he took the bodies of newly committed Seers and spent them for his purposes.”

  Letty turned and offered the orb to her friends. They stared at it for a long moment, but neither tried to take it.

  “I don’t want to know,” Quill said, and Staza nodded in agreement.

  “But we have delayed you for too long. Our champion says you have business here,” one of the women said.

  “We need a portal to a place called Zentule,” Quill said. “It is a ryle palace, somewhere in Euboia.”

  “Simple enough. Though you are led by a true Seer, we still need to levy our toll.”

  Letty held up a bag of coins.

  The consorts gestured that they should come in.

  The crowd waved and cheered as they went into the temple.

  The halls were dim, being lit by boxes filled with something that glowed in soft green shades. The chambers were mystical in the flickering light, with waves of mist and the scent of flowers wafting through the dark, and Letty wondered if she should be afraid.