by Mark Johnson
She and Nocev stood at the Stand, an empty space beside the conference table. Over the years, Sarra had spent hours practising how to behave if she were ever called to the Stand. Miss Harient had made it clear that Sarra would not be treated well, if ever she were called.
Miss Terlent knocked the table with her knuckles to draw attention. Wavy strands of unkempt white hair spilled from her bun. “You may step down, Initiate Patern.” Nocev scuttled for the back of the room.
“Initiate Rendon.” Terlent spoke the name slowly, as if tasting the words. Sarra had taken Miss Harient’s last name when she’d been adopted. “Let us go back to before the cadvers showed themselves. Why did you scan for suppression energy?”
Here it was. Sarra was an initiate now, and responsible for her actions. Miss had always said the first attack on Sarra would come — directly or indirectly — from Miss Terlent.
Terlent had lost the election for TowerMiss thirty years earlier, and never gotten over it. Now, before her, stood the TowerMiss’s talented daughter, who may have just broken a rule. There were so many more important things to talk about right now, but if Miss Harient could somehow be blamed by association for some part of what happened last night, Terlent would find it.
Sarra’s fingers strained to keep from turning to fists. She took a quick breath.
“I realized that suppression imitation forms do not react to chaos like electricity or vibrations, Miss Terlent. My weave was then able to slip through the projected chaos energy with a minimum of disturbance.”
Terlent did not stop to consider Sarra’s answer. “You have conveniently disregarded the fact that you performed an unauthorized weave last night.”
“Thank you, Miss Terlent,” Sarra said.
Terlent paused only a moment, her eyes flickering toward Miss Harient and back.
“In so doing you risked the lives of the entire Wall, Initiate.”
Sarra said nothing.
“Well?”
“I don’t understand the question, Miss Terlent.”
“Under whose authority did you create an unsanctioned and untested weave?”
“The Tower’s.”
“There was no such permission, Initiate.”
“Begging your pardon Miss, the oaths of Initiation require us to uphold the safety of every Wall resident.”
“Which you violated by performing an untested weave.”
“No, Miss Terlent, the weave was established in Polis Armer, and was relayed to me by a guard who used to work with the Armer Seekers. Without his help, we would not have been forewarned of the cadver attack.” She quickly squeezed her eyes closed then open, forcing her brain to make a coherent sentence. Gods, she was tired. “I’m grateful to the outlanders who advised me of an established detection weave. I cannot take credit for their advanced knowledge.”
They will string you up by your confidence and ability, Sarra, Miss always said. Small minds grow jealous. Refuse any direct praise. Sarra was desperate to look at Miss for approval, but didn’t move her eyes from Terlent.
The old woman didn’t speak, likely weighing the cost of attempting to tarnish Miss Harient by association, against the cost of trying to outwit her daughter on the Stand. Outside, smoke still rose from the four BarracksWall gems into the bright, empty blue sky. Terlent could keep delving, but everyone in the room was aware that two hundred dead men awaited burial outside HopeWall.
Sarra kept the polite smile plastered over her face. Neither woman blinked nor spoke.
Miss Curlev broke the silence. “The weave you used to examine the chaos, Initiate. How would a mercenary know that?”
“He’d worked closely with Seekers back in Polis Armer, and his sister, a weaver, explained to him what they were doing. He seemed familiar with weaving process and theory.”
Miss Terlent sighed melodramatically. “Did this weave tell you anything that we would not have learned regardless, Initiate?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Terlent, but I cannot foretell the future.” She delivered the line with all the modesty and humility she could muster, with downcast eyes and speaking just over a whisper. Just an honest answer to a needless, speculative question.
Terlent didn’t move, but something changed behind her eyes. A realization, perhaps, that Miss Harient’s daughter was much like her mother. That it was possible for grudges to travel between generations. “From now on child, you will seek permission and guidance from your betters,” she emphasized the word, “before gambling with the Wall’s safety.”
Sarra’s smile trembled. “Yes, Miss Terlent.”
There were no more questions. Few present had cared much about what the initiates had seen to begin with. Sarra curtseyed to the assembly and joined Nocev at the back of the room, near the water stand. She leaned back against the wall and let her breath out hard and fast.
Yes! She had done it. Nocev squeezed Sarra’s hand quickly and smiled. Her friend was beginning to smell, and Sarra supposed she did too.
WallMiss Hapev stood to address the room, tight lines crossing her forehead. “This ends the review of last evening’s events. We move now into reflection.” She fixed the TowerMiss in a steady gaze. “Harient. How did this happen?”
Miss Harient met her gaze calmly. “We were caught off-guard, Hapev. The cadvers were controlled en masse, and it’s likely they were somehow implanted with explosives. Both of these changes are unheard of.”
Hapev turned to Miss Emment. “So, what exactly has the Tower been doing for the last century? What are you women good for, if you lose the first ever assault on our defenses?”
Miss Emment’s gray hair looked as though it would curl even tighter, and she showed her teeth. “Hapev, you know nothing about vibrations, cadvers, or HopeWall, if you think we failed anyone last night. One hundred and fifty years, the Enemy has had to prepare horrors only the Gods know what! If you have better ideas about how we could have prepared, I’d like to hear them.”
“I’m sure you would, but my job is to run HopeWall, so you can defend it!”
Angry murmurs sprang from both sides of the conference table.
“Councilors, Elders,” warned Miss Harient.
“I clearly know nothing about my job, then?” Miss Emment fumed. “You’re welcome to it, Hapev.”
“I don’t want your job. I want to know HopeWall is safe. How do we ensure this never happens again?”
“HopeWall’s too close to the Tower. Cadvers shouldn’t come as close so easily.”
“Shouldn’t or can’t?”
“Until last night, I would have said ‘can’t’.”
Hapev took a breath. “Before I arrived today, I attended the blessing of a child born overnight. The mother is the age of those two initiates there, and when the ceremony was complete she asked me whether she should leave or not. Whether she and her baby would be safe. I told her I’d find out.” Hapev spoke slowly. “Emment. Is HopeWall safe?”
“Hapev,” said Terlent, her voice rasping. “These are the Refugee Territories. No one is safe, and those further in don’t care.” The old woman swept her flabby hand in a wide arc, taking in all the Councilors. “Some of you have lived here over forty years. Even if we said this was the most unsafe place in the Territories, you’d remain because this is your home! Tell me, do you want us to say you’re safe so you feel better? Or because you’d like someone to blame if another bad thing happens?”
A wave of Councilors shouted and gestured at Terlent and the Elders. Terlent didn’t even blink as she looked each Councilor in the eye. The Elders shouted back.
Nocev muttered in Sarra’s ear. “This is why people follow Terlent. She sees fear.”
Sarra hushed her. Miss Harient was rising, her back straight and face tight. Each Elder quietened as her glare passed over them. Terlent hadn’t spoken a word since starting the fracas. When the Councilors realized the Elders had quieten
ed, they turned to Harient.
“I’m more concerned for the men who will tonight sleep with blankets under lean-to’s set up against HopeWall,” Miss began. “They, each of them, swore to protect every woman in this room with their lives. Not one woman died last night. Two hundred men lost their lives.
“I was out there afterwards, healing. Some men died as I was weaving on them. Some have lost limbs, or eyes, or ears. Their women and children are broken. The foundation stones of their lives have been rooted up and thrown away. Some of them aren’t even certain they can return home, even with the BarracksWalls destroyed. I was late to this meeting because I didn’t want to get blood all over this room and my seat. Some men seized me by the shoulders and asked what they can do to keep us safe, even now. I didn’t have any answer.”
She looked up and down the table. “Tell the young mother to leave, Hapev. A newborn is of no comfort to the families of those brave men.”
And that, thought Sarra, is why people follow Miss.
Hapev stared at Miss, then reluctantly sat. For the moment.
Miss planted open palms on the table, taking her time to fix every Elder and Councilor with a glare as she spoke.
“How the Enemy must be gleefully chuckling, pointing and laughing at us,” Miss said, with scorn in her voice. Just the right amount of scorn. “It hurts us, and then we turn around and blame each other!
“Finger-pointing is for the guilty. The truth is somewhat more uncomfortable. We were surprised last night, because that is the point of something being unpredictable! We lost in every way that matters to the Enemy. And tonight’s crisis is greater still.”
Miss continued. “Each of the four gem mechanisms in the barracks is broken beyond repair, and the barracks themselves are structurally unstable.” She closed her eyes. “HopeWall is without the barracks.”
Miss sat down, nodding to Hapev.
“So, we have damaged BarracksWalls to our sides, with no responsive capacity,” the WallMiss summarized. “The men are disadvantaged, for now. How long would it take you to make and install new stones or gems in every wall, Harient?”
“Over a year.” Her point hung in the air, a foul odor the women could not pretend came from elsewhere.
“So…” Hapev’s face sagged. “Our only choice is to wait for the weavers and men to rebuild and repair barracks Wall. Perhaps if we…”
“No.” Miss Harient’s tone was hard. “This is the work of an entire year, if not more. The work of doing nothing other than repairing or replacing these gems. They were made to be self-sustaining so we wouldn’t need to take care of them, just power them with vibrations.”
“So be it,” said Terlent. “We have to protect HopeWall above all.” She shook her head tersely. “The men will understand. They will simply have to wait and post more sentries as we repair their Walls.”
A few women nodded.
“The cadvers will be pleased to see that,” said Miss Harient.
Miss Terlent rolled her eyes. “We have no other options, Harient!”
“Without us,” Miss said, “the men don’t stand a chance. They’re none of them Seekers, and the cadvers will return. Last night was a mere test, a probe.” Miss Terlent opened her mouth, but Miss Harient cut her off. “I’ve killed cadvers, and it is not like squashing bugs. If anyone believes the men can withstand another attack, please raise your hand and explain why I’m wrong.”
No one moved.
“The cadvers are being controlled by something I don’t want to imagine. You think they are going to stop now our defenses are subdued?” She gestured at the thin wisps of smoke coming from the top of SouthBarracksWall. “Last night was a disaster. Whatever Enemy agent controls the cadvers had a distinct victory, and we suffered a crushing defeat.” She slapped a hand on the table. “The crisis is that, unless we take significant steps immediately, and by that I mean within the next few hours, the men will abandon HopeWall.” She paused. “And their women will follow.”
Another silence.
There’d been no time for roll calls, but Sarra had already heard whispers that some men were striking out for other Walls. Without the men as forage guards and rented spears, the local barter economy would collapse.
Hapev’s face had paled. “Harient, do you have a suggestion?”
“I spoke before daybreak with LoreKeeper Toreng, and he and I arrived at the only possible solution. The men need much more than to hear ‘thanks, now go about your business’. If we want to keep them, they have to believe they’re safe. The only way to do that is to invite them in.”
What? Had she misheard?
Gasps filled the air. Weathered faces, which hadn’t flickered at mention of the loss of lives in the barracks, now hung slack-jawed.
Miss Terlent glared at Miss. The room broke into whispers and wild gestures.
“I know there will be problems,” Miss Harient continued. “Events that will make us regret allowing them in. Those will no doubt become evident in a few weeks. But I want to keep the Tower and Wall from falling apart within days.”
The room erupted.
“Well, well, well,” Nocev said, smiling.
Time in the room moved slowly, almost like Sarra could see tracks left in the air by waving arms and the spittle flying from the women’s mouths. Sarra’s first memories — all of her memories — were of HopeWall’s regularity and routine. She’d clung to those routines and their stability for ten years, even if she disagreed with most of them. Without its infamous stability, HopeWall would be like any, and every, other Wall in the Territories.
“We cannot!” shrieked Councilor Remmev, pointing an arthritic finger at Miss Harient. “This is the opposite of what HopeWall stands for!”
“Housing will be a problem,” Councilor Derivient said, trembling visibly.
“Fornication!” shouted Elder Marras, standing and thumping the table.
“This has turned into one of the best days of my entire life,” Nocev said. She reached over to squeeze Sarra’s hand, longer and harder than before.
Miss Harient caught Sarra’s eye, raised an eyebrow, and pointed to the door. She wanted Sarra and Nocev to spread word of her proposal to heap pressure on the Elders and Councilors. The girls hurried out, before anyone could call for water. Sarra closed the heavy wooden door behind her. The ruckus in the council room actually penetrated through the door.
“Sarra!” Nocev was so excited she was jumping. “We just watched history!”
The hollering inside the council chamber loudened. Sarra leaned back against the wall, trying to let the cold stone wake her up a little more. Her eyes were dry and grainy. “I think the history happened last night, Nocev. This is the result.”
Regardless of their objections, the Elders and Councilors would allow the men in. Much as they loved their status, they loved being alive more. Most of the wrangling would be concessions on rules and protocol, not debating whether to allow the men in or not.
“This is good for HopeWall, Sarra, and for you.”
“No, Miss was right. This is what the Enemy wants.”
Nocev frowned. “Why? To put something like… a dark agent into the Wall?”
Dark agents. The Enemy’s pretenders, joining civil society with the aim of destabilizing it. Sometimes they took someone’s mind, sometimes they created a whole person. The Seekers had found few of them in five thousand years, and still had no idea how they were created.
“Maybe. But besides that, just to create havoc and resentment. Nocev, some women came to this Wall to be safe from a certain type of man. Look, yes, I’d like one day to live and work around men like normal people do. But having the men in here with us means more rules, more work, more being watched, more initiates per room… I can go on. You want me to?”
Nocev raised her eyebrows and waited for Sarra to make eye contact. “No, but I’ll be satisfie
d with you telling me why you’re so glass-half-empty about the best thing that’s ever happened to this place.”
She took a deep breath. Miss Harient’s calm voice was just audible through the door, speaking steadily and matter-of-factly. Sarra couldn’t quite make out the TowerMiss’s words.
“Change is fine, Nocev. But this is coming all at once. No one in there wants this, but they know it’s necessary, even if they refuse to admit it. Not even the men will like entering HopeWall under these conditions.” Her low energy turned her voice into a whisper. “How does any of this end well?”
Nocev took her hand and pulled her off the door. “Why does everything have to end badly?”
She pulled Sarra down staircases and through corridors. As they passed a thickly-grated window she noticed a small clump of stone falling from WestBarracksWall.
11
The ghost disappeared, only to reappear instantly some feet away, craning its neck back and forth for a few seconds, before disappearing and reappearing again. This one had the shape of a woman in her forties, with long hair. A pudgy, male silhouette blinked into existence near Sarra, staring right at her. It studied her a long time before disappearing.
Ever since the attack, the artefact projections had moved differently. As if they were upset or confused.
“Sarra, look at me.”
Nocev’s grip on Sarra’s shoulder did not lighten when their eyes met. It might have hardened.
“Out here last night, with our novices, you barely spoke.” Nocev lowered her head closer. “But indoors you were perfectly normal. Or, close as you get to normal.”
Nocev folded her arms and leaned back against the pavilion’s wooden seat, looking quite comfortable, with no intention of moving. Waiting.
The ghosts had behaved erratically since the attack, and Sarra had been trying to understand why. They couldn’t — they were just programs after all — but they were on edge, nervous. And her imagination was supplying no end of possible reasons for the programs’ skittish behavior.
She frantically sieved through her mind for something to fend Nocev off. Ah, she was ill? The men made her nervous? Perhaps she’d strained her neck when they’d gone on forage with their novices? She squeezed her hands together in her lap. Her every instinct shouted at her to leave Nocev out of her problems. There were lots of people in this pavilion nearest the ‘manline’ tonight, but everyone was wrapped up in their own conversations. No one would hear her, though she couldn’t stop herself whispering.
