by Kay L. Ling
S moved to the other side of the cage in a vain effort to escape her sister. The gnome dignitaries cast amused glances at one another, and Tyla and Raenihel edged closer for a better view of the unfolding drama.
Varkandian addressed the beetle gruffly, “Your sister and I are members of the Joint High Council. After your attempt to seize control of Ahmonell, it took one hundred and thirty-two years to restore gnome-woodspirit relations, and now that the barrier that sealed you inside the Amulet has been broken and everyone has heard you’re still alive, tensions are growing again.”
The wings over S’s rear segment twitched. She turned to face Varkandian and said in a scathing tone, “Anatta on the Council? Anatta who always hated politics?”
Anatta stiffened. “I felt obligated. The others have served multiple terms.”
“A woodspirit without gem powers could take the position.”
“You know that’s now allowed,” Anatta retorted. “The Council relies too much on discernment and foresight.”
S chittered in her strange approximation of laughter. “What good did those abilities do them in the past?”
Anatta’s jaw clenched. “The Council never expected one of their own to betray them, and furthermore, your dark powers gave you an edge.”
“An edge any of you could have had, if you were not foolish and weak.”
Anatta glared at the beetle, rigid with tension. “You always craved power and influence, but no one suspected you of such treachery.”
“You won’t be so quick to call the Council fools when you return in a cage,” Varkandian added, folding his arms.
“Return? Now wait just a minute,” the fat gnome, Frinkk cut in, his chest swelling in indignation. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She’s not going anywhere until all the arrangements are settled.”
“We’re well aware of that,” Varkandian said in a tight voice. “But it won’t be long. I expect the matter will be settled in a few weeks.”
“Don’t we get a say in what happens to her?” Raenihel asked, startling Tyla.
Everyone turned to look at him, their expressions ranging from mild annoyance to outright hostility, but he didn’t back down. “She forced generations of Amulet gnomes into hiding or slavery and made the Amulet all but uninhabitable with droughts, blights, and forest fires. If it weren’t for our human allies, we still wouldn’t know the outside world existed. Thanks to them, we learned that the Amulet is a special region designed to ensure that those who came here through portals could only access a small part of our world, and an accident sealed us inside its borders. I realize the accident wasn’t directly Sheamathan’s fault, but the events leading up to it were. We’ve suffered more than the rest of you. Why can’t she stay here? We’ll make sure she gets the punishment she deserves.”
“Woodspirits have a number of secure facilities for punishment and rehabilitation,” Varkandian said as though that settled the matter. “It would be safer to keep her there.”
“Safer for her or for us?” Raenihel asked with a cynical laugh. “In beetle form she can’t regain her powers, so she’s no threat to anyone.”
“That was certainly a creative solution,” Anatta said in a frigid tone.
“The Joint High Council may decide to give her into gnome custody,” Klemmet told Raenihel, and then turned back to the woodspirits. “We have a number of suitable facilities, far better than yours.”
“Gnome custody!” Anatta cried, throwing up her hands in disgust. “Gnomes couldn’t be trusted to keep Sheamathan safe, much less rehabilitate her.”
“We discussed this at the last meeting when you weren’t there,” Varkandian said. “Don’t worry; any proposal must be ratified by the standard seventy percent majority.
“Rehabilitate her,” Raenihel muttered to Tyla, his face flushing with anger. “As if such a thing were possible.”
“They don’t know her as well as we do,” Tyla whispered back.
Unlike gnomes, woodspirits seldom had gem powers, but when they did, their powers were unimaginably strong. S had used Dark gems and wielded the worst of them without remorse. As far as Tyla was concerned, S was inherently evil, and trying to rehabilitate her would be a waste of time.
“Woodspirits are minority Council members,” Anatta protested. “Gnomes will carry the vote and get custody.”
Frinkk scowled at her. “Not necessarily. Some will vote to let you woodspirits deal with her.”
S began circling her cage, waving her feelers and chittering, probably laughing at all the turmoil.
“I find that highly unlikely,” Anatta said, her voice rising, “and I intend to—”
“Perhaps you’d like to tour Elantoth now,” Tyla cut in, trying to head off further arguments. The delegates were making no effort to present a united front, and at the rate they were going, they wouldn’t be speaking to one another by the time they left. “You mentioned you’d like to see the Ministry of Gnome Affairs. If you like, we can start there.”
“You go ahead,” Anatta said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’ll stay here and spend more time with Sheamathan.”
“Perhaps that would be best,” said the frail gem master, Ertz. He walked away, and Frinkk and Klemmet grudgingly followed.
When Tyla looked toward the library door, she spotted three female breghlin faces that promptly disappeared. The sound of furtive footsteps marked their retreat.
Tyla and Raenihel left the library with the gnome delegates.
Two guards making their rounds were coming down the passageway. Tyla drew them aside and said quietly, “Stay in the library with S. Keep an eye on her and her visitors.”
But really, she thought as she walked away, what good would guards do against Anatta and Varkandian, either of whom was probably more powerful than Frinkk, Klemmet, and Ertz combined.
Trying not to worry, she led the group to the Ministry office. Terrilem rose from his desk and greeted the dignitaries without the slightest sign of nervousness. Tyla envied his poise. He was a well-respected gnome in his early thirties, and taller than most, with a broad blocky face and a thick black beard.
The officials approached the counter, looking critically around the room, no doubt taking in the mismatched desks and chairs, the battered wooden filing cabinets, and the simple wooden crates full of books.
“We’re still getting organized,” Terrilem said apologetically, reading the disapproval on their faces. “But at least we’re open.”
Gem Master Frinkk cleared his throat and curled the hook-like tip of his beard into a sharper point. “How many gnomes work here?”
“Three. We take turns.”
There was a long pause, and Tyla could tell the officials were not happy with that answer.
“That will never do,” Klemmet said, turning to Frinkk. “They’ll need a minimum of six—two on duty at a time.”
“Definitely,” Frinkk agreed.
“Why two?” Raenihel asked.
“One explains regulations and answers questions, and the other processes paperwork and collects fees,” Klemmet said.
“Fees?” Raenihel asked with a blank look.
“Payments, taxes, and fees for services you’ll be providing here,” Klemmet said. “What is your current mode of payment?”
Raenihel didn’t answer, so Tyla stepped in. “We exchange goods and labor. Is that you mean?”
“You operate solely on barter?” Klemmet asked, aghast.
“Well, yes,” Tyla said uncertainly. “What else would we use?”
The gray-haired gnome shook his head as if he could hardly believe his ears, reached into his robe, and pulled out an embroidered fabric pouch with a silver clasp. He emptied its contents onto the counter and sorted the rectangular gems by color, ending up with six piles of gems that descended in size. Taking one from the pile of the largest gems, he said, “The mierek is the highest denomination of our monetary system. It bears an intaglio of the Mierek coat of arms.” It was an opaque green stone about the s
ize of Tyla’s thumb.
“Intaglio,” she repeated. She had never heard the word.
“The incised image in its surface,” Klemmet explained. “Each denomination has a different design. He indicated each pile in turn. “Waymare, pantirek, aberell, elantoth, and ominem. Named after our six fortresses and marked with their coat of arms. You don’t have any monetary gems?”
Tyla shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like these.” Gem Masters Elias and Jules might have found caches of intaglio gems and hadn’t realized their significance, but she wasn’t about to say so.
Klemmet and Frinkk looked disappointed.
Klemmet drew papers from his pocket and set them on the counter. “Everyone who works in this office must be able to explain and enforce these regulations.”
Terrilem’s polite smile dissolved into a worried frown as he picked up the first paper and began to read. He looked up. “I don’t have gem powers, and these gem-related regulations look confusing.” He handed the paper to Tyla, and she and Raenihel read silently.
Having already become acquainted with some of Mierek’s nonsensical regulations, Tyla thought nothing could surprise her, but item seven caught her up short. She read aloud. “It is unlawful to transfer infused gem powers to a gnome without powers unless Form GP-112 is submitted along with the requisite fee and permission is granted by the Department of Gem Powers. See Table 1-A for a list of gem powers and corresponding fees.”
Not long ago, during a crisis in the Barrier Zone, she had transferred strength and stamina to the beast that pulled their cart. That was probably illegal, too. On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t. Animals couldn’t pay fees.
She looked up. “How can you enforce a law like that? How would anyone know gem powers were transferred?”
Frinkk smiled unpleasantly. “We have ways to check whether No-Powers, known as Nopes, have unauthorized powers. No doubt some folks circumvent the law, but it’s risky. Better to go through proper channels.”
“How do you know who’s a Nope and who isn’t?” Raenihel asked.
Frinkk, Klemmet, and Ertz held out their right arms, underside up, and each had on his wrist a red, faceted gem symbol like the one on Mierek’s carriage doors.
“Nopes don’t have this mark,” Frinkk said.
Raenihel said, “Gnomes with powers have to wear a mark?”
“Have to? They’re proud to wear this symbol,” Klemmet retorted. “Few gnomes have powers—somewhere around one in twenty.”
“Here in the Amulet it’s about one in five,” Tyla said.
“So we’ve heard. There’s a reason for that. Do you know what it is?” When they didn’t answer, Klemmet explained. “During the war, when S brought mercenary forces through the portal, most residents fled this area. Militia members remained, many of whom had gem powers, and more gem masters came to help. When they destroyed the portal during the Battle of Last Hope they were sealed inside the Amulet.”
“And since we’re their descendants, we inherited their powers,” Tyla said.
“Exactly. The Department of Gem Powers will visit every clan and register everyone with powers,” Klemmet told them. “Do either of you have gem powers?”
She and Raenihel nodded.
“You will receive the mark.”
Terrilem didn’t look disturbed by the idea that he’d be missing out. He picked up the next page. He hadn’t gotten far before he exploded, “Gem users can get permission to use a Dark gem if they pay a fee?”
Tyla and Raenihel exchanged disbelieving glances. Few Dark gems had any legitimate uses, and a fee wouldn’t make them less dangerous.
Klemmet laughed good-naturedly, but his eyes held no trace of humor. “No more than two instances per year are permitted, and the terms of the Mitigating Circumstances Clause must be met.”
“Don’t worry. It’s very hard to qualify,” Ertz assured them, “and the fees are prohibitively expensive.”
Raenihel, reading Tyla’s paper, asked, “What’s this about a witness tax?”
“You needn’t worry about that,” Frinkk said hastily. “You don’t have any lumps or deformities, do you?”
“Of course not!” Raenihel said.
“Well, there you are, then. It’s no concern.”
“The Witness Tax is levied against each inhabitant after a thorough examination of his body,” Klemmet explained, trying to make it sound like the most natural thing in the world but not quite succeeding.
“The idea is that witnesses are evidence of unacceptable behavior, and wrongdoers should reimburse society for the consequences of their deeds,” Ertz said.
Tyla had to admit that there was a certain logic to that, but she shuddered at the thought of a thorough examination. Her mind strayed to Raenihel’s nephew, Kaff, who had developed his first witnesses—two lumps on his forearm—after stealing Dark gems from Elias’s cave and then kidnapping S, expecting her to teach him dark powers. Sentenced to ten years in the dungeon, he had tried to turn himself into a bird and escape, but it had gone horribly wrong. How much would he owe after turning himself into a giant, deformed gnome-bird? Fortunately, he would never find out since Elias had restored him.
And what about the breghlin, she asked herself with a heavy heart. Their taxes would be crushing since they all had countless lumps and deformities, some of which were their own fault, but S was to blame for most. After the war, she had given her gnome supporters genetic mutations and turned them into her servant race, the breghlin.
“Don’t gnomes try to hide or remove their witnesses to avoid the tax?” Tyla asked.
“No. Should they be caught—and it’s likely they would be—they would be sentenced to ten years in a confinement,” Ertz said. “Removing witnesses manually always leaves unnatural color scars, and altering one’s appearance with gem powers requires valuable gems and a great deal of skill.”
“It would be cheaper to pay the tax,” said Klemmet, chuckling.
“Furthermore, it’s impossible to maintain an altered appearance for more than a few hours,” Ertz said.
Raenihel caught Tyla’s eye and gave her a worried frown. She set the paper on the counter. S had kept generations of gnomes from learning that some gnomes had latent gem powers, but Gem Masters Elias and Jules had uncovered the truth, discovered how to activate gnomes’ powers, and started training sessions. Unfortunately, Mierek had quickly put a stop to that, saying gnomes must teach gnomes. Probably because humans would disregard Mierek’s rules and regulations, and Mierek wouldn’t be able to collect any fees.
“If no one in the Amulet has monetary gems, how will we pay taxes and fees?” Tyla asked.
Frinkk smiled. “Once you become part of Ahmonellian society, you’ll find it easy to earn money and pay taxes. This region has vast, untapped resources.”
Tyla had an uncomfortable feeling that she and the others who lived here were part of those untapped resources.
Chapter 3
Tyla took her guests to the cellar to see the communications room. Her friend Parcune, an outspoken gnome in his fifties with gray hair and a long bushy beard, was on duty. He was still fuming over Mierek’s edict against human involvement, so she hoped he’d be civil.
The conversation immediately got off on a wrong foot when Gem Master Frinkk told Parcune, “The other fortresses called their communications room “the pedestal room.”
“Is that so,” Parcune said, frowning at Frinkk. “We wouldn’t even know what these pedestals were for if it weren’t for Gem Master Elias. He identified the gems on top as communications gems and said they must link us to the other fortresses.”
“Ah yes, the human gem master,” Frinkk said, his upper lip curling in distaste. “The one with the breghlin-like deformities.”
Parcune said defensively, “His disfigurement happened long ago. He doesn’t use dark powers these days.”
“Wasn’t it he who turned Sheamathan into a beetle? That requires dark powers,” Frinkk replied in a tone that said h
e had gotten the better of Parcune.
“Well, yes, that’s true, but Elias made an exception that time. Turning her into something detestable was fitting justice, don’t you think?”
“What we think doesn’t matter,” Frinkk said coldly. “Her punishment should be decided by a court of law.”
“We should have killed her when we had the chance. We wouldn’t be arguing over her now,” Parcune muttered darkly.
Frinkk said, “That isn’t the gnome way.”
Parcune’s eyes bored into his. “In some cases, maybe it should be.”
“You’re welcome to you opinions,” Frinkk said, his tone indicating quite the opposite. “Now you must excuse me. I promised to give Mierek a brief report.” He went to the Mierek pedestal, laid his hand on the rizumen gem, and communicated with the gnome on duty there. When he finished, he stalked from the room, and Klemmet and Ertz followed.
Tyla and Raenihel took them to see the libations room in the cellar. It held kegs of wine, beer, and the popular gnome drink, fialazza, which produced a calming effect while heightening all of one’s senses.
“We’d like to see S’s private suite,” Klemmet announced as they climbed the stairs to the first floor.
Tyla’s heart sank. S’s most valuable books, maps, and documents were there, and these officials might decide to appropriate some before Amulet clans had a chance to study them. She wished she could think of a legitimate reason to deny their request, but nothing came to mind. “Very well. We’ll take you there next.”
Raenihel gave a sigh of resignation.
As they walked down the torch-lit passageway that led to S’s suite, Raenihel laid a hand on Tyla’s arm and opened his mouth to say something, but she gave him a quelling glance. A twinkle of amusement shone in his eyes and he nodded, agreeing not to warn their guests.
Just then, a two-headed bat sailed over their heads. An instant later, dozens were swooping and diving, and the air was thick with them. The delegates let out startled cries, and Tyla glanced over her shoulder to see Klemmet duck, covering his head.
