Will arched an eyebrow. “There’s blood on the sword in Maynard’s hand. Should that not condemn him, rather than me?”
“As I’ve said, the sword was retrieved by Maynard after you used it to stab Eva. Do not blame him for your actions. That blood is on your hands, literally.”
“The sword was retrieved by Maynard? But I thought you said that I handed it to him?”
“The words mean the same thing, Will.”
“They most certainly do not. In the one case, you’re alleging that I gave him the sword. In the second case, you’re alleging that he had to act to get the sword back. Which is it?”
“Since your memory is so foggy, I will refresh it for you. Maynard had to remove it from you by force after you stabbed Eva. It took him very little effort. I was attempting to spare you your pride by saying that you handed it back to him. The lack of effort required by Maynard was truly a credit to his strength, and a condemnation of your weakness.”
Will paused. “If Maynard is so strong, and never lets his sword out of his grasp, and I’m so weak… how do you explain to this crowd that I’m supposed to have wrestled it away from him, and then controlled it long enough, without action on his part — or yours — to stab Eva?”
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, and then realized he was trapped. The murmuring of the crowd made it quite clear that they knew he’d manipulated them, that he was trying to blame something on Will.
“How did you get out?” Arthur asked, pivoting the conversation. “There was a guard posted by your room. He was still there when we returned, and said he’d not seen you leave.”
“Yes, you posted a guard by my door. I hadn’t been aware that I was under arrest, or had been charged with a crime. Why did you post a guard, Arthur? I’d been charged with nothing this morning. There was no purpose in posting a guard at all, and certainly nothing gives you the power to do so. Or perhaps you truly do believe yourself a monarch here, able to do whatever you wish?”
The crowd was noisier. And the angry looks were now being directed at Arthur and Maynard, not at Will.
“You have the abilities, don’t you?” Arthur shouted. “That’s how you got out! He’s been hiding information from us!” That at least got the crowd to pause.
Will shook his head. “I’ll show you how I got out,” he said, and watched the look of triumph vanish from Arthur’s face.
He led the crowd to his room, stepped past the surprised guard, and opening the door. He invited several of the villagers, including Silver the metal worker and Joseph the carpenter, to join him inside. Arthur and Maynard were left outside, buried behind the crowds near Will’s room.
Will showed them the hinge he’d built in the roof, using materials he’d been given back during the construction of the Wheel and the water distribution system, extras they’d not needed. “I like to sit on my roof at times and look up at the stars, so I made this door in my roof to let me climb out. When I was trapped earlier, I suspected that I was being kept prisoner to make sure I couldn’t follow Arthur and Maynard, and I worried that they intended to make Eva’s banishment something she never could overcome, even if she wanted to do so. So I crawled out on to my roof, onto the wall, and slid down. Then I ran in the direction I suspected they were heading, and found fresh tracks I could follow.”
“Show me,” Joseph said, indicating the hatch.
Will pushed the hatch open and grasped the roof, using his forearm to keep the hatch open. He crouched as low as he could on his bed, then sprang up with his legs while pulling with his arms, and popped out the top of the opening, just as he’d done earlier that day. He sat himself on the edge, nearest the cross beam, so that his weight didn’t damage the thatched roof. He then dropped back into his room, onto the cot, and let the spring pull the panel closed.
Joseph and Silver nodded to the crowd when they emerged. Will’s story checked out. A few others pushed inside, including Arthur and Maynard, and they gaped at the contraption.
“When I finally caught up to them, Arthur was trying to get Eva to say that some of the Traders had developed special abilities, and name names. She didn’t do so, of course, because she couldn’t. All of the Traders have been denied sufficient zirple to develop any type of skills. Arthur waved his hand and stopped his horse, causing Eva to stop walking. Maynard kept walking and stabbed her through the back from behind. I was enraged and attacked them, unarmed though I was, but the damage was done. I buried her in the ground where she fell, stabbed in the back by a coward of a man too frightened to face her, and a so-called leader who made the order against the wishes of those he wants to lead.”
The crowd was silent, and Arthur was sputtering, trying to find some way to regain his advantage. “I’m telling you, Will has abilities! He’s been hiding them from us!”
“How can that be, Arthur?” Will asked. “As I just said, you’ve made it a point to keep me — and all of the Traders — away from the zirple. Yet you accuse us of having abilities, and hiding things from you and the others? You, who openly deny us the ingredient we need to develop those abilities?”
“Roland!” Arthur shouted. Will, sensing what was to come, made sure his Shielding was up. “Roland, you are the most advanced in abilities here. You can tell if someone has these abilities, can’t you?”
“If they’re strong enough, yes,” Roland replied. “After a while, I could feel when I’d walk by someone in that remote village who had been using the zirple for a long time. I should be able to do that here as well.”
Arthur smiled. “Check him, Roland.”
Roland walked toward Will, and the crowd tensed. Roland leaned in closer to Will, seeming almost to sniff for a hint of what Will called Energy, a move that was highly uncomfortable for Will due to the invasion of personal space.
After a few moments, Roland turned to Arthur and shook his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing there, Arthur. He has no more ability than I did ten years ago.”
Arthur’s eyes flashed with anger. “This isn’t over, Will,” he snapped. He then walked away, back toward his home, with Maynard in tow.
The crowd gradually dispersed, with many of the residents stopping to offer their apologies to Will for doubting him. Roland promised to make sure that he got his zirple, but Will shook his head. “Eva was killed over the obsession with that plant and what it’s supposed to do for us. Taking it now, for me, would be an insult to her memory, as if her sacrifice was my payment to receive it. No, give my share to the other Traders, and especially Elizabeth.”
Joseph, the carpenter, was the last to walk by. “That was an impressive thing you did in there. The door in the roof. How did you think of it?”
Will shrugged. “We used the same idea to open a door and let water out of the ducts. I thought I could make a larger one that would fit me.”
Joseph laughed. “It seems to have worked.”
As the carpenter began to move away, Will put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “One moment, Joseph. Has anyone told Elizabeth about Eva yet?”
Joseph shook his head. “Not directly, Will. I was close to her room when Arthur told everyone, and I’m pretty sure I heard her crying. But I don’t think anyone has talked to her directly.”
Will took a deep breath. “That’s what I thought. I suppose I need to be the one to tell her.”
Joseph nodded. “I think that would be best. Eva was… Eva was like a mother to her. We all saw that. I wish we’d done a better job of acting more like Eva. I truly hope that her loss helps us all to become better people.”
“Don’t hope for it, Joseph,” Will replied. “Hope without action means nothing; it’s just words and an idea. You have to make the decision on how you’ll behave, and simply not accept any excuse or difficulty as a reason to act in any other way.”
Joseph looked thoughtful, and then nodded. “Then I’ll look for the strength to do the right thing. Thank you, Will.” And the carpenter walked off.
Will headed to the right out of his room
, and then turned left, heading toward the gate, toward Elizabeth’s room. As he neared, he saw Arthur standing outside her room, as if undecided about something. When he saw Will approaching, the man frowned. “What are you doing here, Will?”
“I’ve come to talk to Elizabeth,” Will replied. “She needs to know about Eva.”
Arthur’s face flickered with fear, but he composed himself. “What… what are you planning to tell her?”
“The truth. I doubt it will surprise her, but she will still be upset.”
Arthur looked at the ground. “Can you… put in a good word for me?”
Will stared at him. “Why would I do that? More to the point, why do you care what she thinks? Her feelings — and her health — have never been a priority for you, or even a consideration. Why, now, should it matter?”
Arthur’s face was like stone. “I don’t expect you to believe this, Will, but I do love my daughter. She is going to be very angry at whomever she believes killed Eva, or anyone who even had a hand in it. I can’t bear the thought of her looking at me like that.”
Will glared at him. “Where was this parental conscience for the past dozen years when she needed it, Arthur? You can’t say ‘sorry’ now because the community has turned on you, and you need her to have some semblance of control. Your behavior and choices put you here. I can’t talk her out of what she’s going to feel, and she has every right to whatever feelings she experiences. Don’t ask me to tell her that you meant well when you thought you’d be getting away with stabbing in the back the best friend she’s had — and the only parent and role model she’s had since her mother was mur—her mother died.”
Arthur looked at him, a pleading look on his face, but Will’s stony expression made it clear Arthur would get no words of assistance from him. The man turned without another word and entered his own home, his face clouded in concentration, a man still determined to turn this tragedy to his own advantage.
Will knocked lightly on the door. “Elizabeth? It’s Will.”
The door opened immediately. Her eyes were red, and her face was stained with tears, marred further by a look of pure anguish and desperation. She said nothing, but threw herself into his arms, sobbing without tears.
It’s true, then, isn’t it? Eva is gone.
Yes. Will replied, sensing the irony, and feeling the anguish at the lie he allowed her to believe. She is gone.
I don’t want to live any more, Will. They’ve taken my childhood. They’ve taken my real mother. They’ve taken my freedom. They’ve taken the woman who became my role model, a second mother. I don’t have any hope left to keep me going; they’re all beyond repair, no matter what they say. Help me die, Will. It’s too painful to live any more.
Will squeezed her tighter. When my wife and son died, I felt as you did. I had nothing to live for. Yet I found my purpose in coming here and trying to make this community the special place its residents believed it could be. It’s what you’ve always said has kept you here, that belief that something great will happen. That is your purpose. Eva would not want you to give up hope. Stay strong.
Her body shuddered. I can’t do this alone, Will. I need your help.
He smiled. And you’ll always have that. Forever.
XXII
Party
The community returned to a degree of normalcy following Will’s dismantling of Arthur’s lies regarding the murder of Eva. The first day was one of silence and shock, but the days after brought forth tears of grief over Eva’s death, and the circumstances that brought it about.
Arthur found himself shunned, at least to a degree. He wasn’t denied food or water, or prevented from working, or excluded from the community bathing time, in a manner reminiscent of the shunning of the Traders. However, no one sought out his guidance, or listened to his commands. All who walked near him were wary, concerned that they, too, might be the victim of an order to Maynard or others to execute them in cold blood. Maynard suffered a similar treatment, but as a skilled metal worker, he at least had an activity to occupy his time.
Arthur had nothing, and no one, for he had isolated himself onto a pedestal now cracked at its very foundation. The villagers realized that he’d never had any power over them. By silent consensus, the villagers all stopped paying into the lottery, realizing it was merely a mechanism for control of their most valuable resource, and Roland publicly severed his agreement with Arthur. The farmers tending the zirple crop were given the freedom to sell the zirple at whatever price and quantity they could fetch from the villagers — though they were forbidden from selling it to outsiders — and simply paid a percentage of their profits back to Roland. With that transition, Arthur lost his last source of income.
He didn’t want to tap into the savings he’d accumulated over the years, and Arthur eventually found work, handling the cleaning of the barns and paddocks for the farmers. It was grueling, smelly work, of a type he had long avoided through his various schemes and manipulations. He’d long ago ceased to work directly for his income, having received sufficient monies from Elizabeth’s work and the lottery to keep himself well-fed and well-coifed since the earliest days of the village. The obvious shame he felt made Will want to feel pity, except that the shame he felt was over the work he was doing, rather than the circumstances forcing it.
Elizabeth had been invited to join a group of weavers traveling to a nearby city to sell their creations. The group wanted to try selling directly to others, but recognized that having an experienced Trader along would be beneficial, and Elizabeth was the obvious choice. She had a tremendous eye for fashion and, when not in a despondent mood, she had proved to be an excellent Trader. Will got nightly telepathic updates from her on the situation in the remote city, and he kept her up-to-date on the events back home. It was clear from these discussions that Elizabeth was still emotionally devastated over Eva’s murder, for her purpose — trying to rehabilitate her father and the others — had so utterly failed that the woman she most admired and most tried to emulate in the world was dead. Elizabeth believed it was her failure to meet her goal that enabled Eva’s death, and no amount of counterarguments from Will would change her mind. With each such discussion, Will’s doubt over his lack of truth-telling around Eva’s current condition deepened, and he knew he’d need to tell her the truth before long.
Elizabeth wanted to know what Arthur was doing, and Will provided her with updates. Yes, Arthur was still slopping the pigs. No, he’d not expressed any remorse over Eva’s loss. Yes, he still seemed to want Elizabeth’s forgiveness, though he seemed incapable of voicing what he thought required forgiveness.
The man continued taking his zirple, chewing the powdered form with great concentration, seeming to want to will the root to work more quickly. He became proficient in its preparation, and like Elizabeth before him, he began earning a few coppers a week preparing the concoction for others, funds he used to purchase his meals. He also began to work with the bakers in preparing the daily bread the villagers consumed, and was eventually granted entry into their profession, thus becoming entitled to a share of their income. Will refused to buy anything from the man out of principle, though he heard from others that he showed some promise as a baker.
When the weavers returned with Elizabeth, it was clear that the young woman was still struggling to recover emotionally. Her traveling companions raved at her skill, and Elizabeth let Will know that she’d made about twenty gold coins in profit, after she’d purchased another new dress. Her hair had been recently brushed, likely as part of her work in Trading, but her eyes were still red and sunken. She’d clearly spent most nights in her bed crying, a fact confirmed by several of the weavers who had accompanied her.
When Elizabeth entered the gate wearing her new dress, surrounded by weavers chattering about the success of the mission, Arthur, standing in the manure he was shoveling in one of the paddocks, glared at her. When she looked his way, though, his face softened, perhaps as a means to earn some sympathy. But Eliza
beth merely looked at him with her dead eyes and walked to her room, shutting the door behind her. Will watched Arthur, watched as his face got the look he wore when scheming, and became quite worried. Whatever thoughts he had, however, he buried quickly. Outside his moral issues with probing someone’s thoughts, Will was concerned with exposing his own abilities; many, including Arthur, had progressed enough in that area that they’d notice someone else picking through their minds.
After dark every night, Will climbed out onto his roof, in the manner he’d described during his verbal take down of Arthur, jumped down outside the walls, and walked a few hundred yards into the forest. He’d move in a different direction each night, building his Energy and building up the plant life in the forest. The trees, in their fashion, seemed to know him, and he’d often feel the flow of Energy start toward him before he was able to initiate the process. There were other benefits as well; the foragers began to report that there was an unusually large crop of larger-than-usual fruits, berries, and other plant produce in the forest.
After his private meditation with the trees and other wildlife, Will would expand his senses to ensure he was alone, and then teleport to the cave to visit with Eva. She’d progressed remarkably well, and just the day before, Will had felt comfortable recalling the healing nanos that had helped save her life following the sword attack by Maynard and Arthur.
“How is she?” Eva asked. It was the first thing she asked each day when he arrived.
“She’s still very sad, and her primary thought is that her life isn’t worth living anymore,” Will said, his head low, his voice dull and full of pain. “I’ve asked her to consider if you would want her to give up and quit, with the hope that it would motivate her to find a new purpose in life, or even ask me to help her leave this village for good. She just says that it’s no longer possible to ask you your opinion, because her father ordered you murdered.” He glanced up at Eva. “She believes that she’s destined to be just like him, and if that’s her destiny, to be one so full of evil and hate, that she doesn’t deserve to live, that someone — specifically, me — should kill her now and prevent the unleashing of another monster upon the world.”
Preserving Hope (The Aliomenti Saga - Book 2) Page 23
