by G. Howell
My heart lurched and I took a step away. The warning snarl that arose from the Mediators froze me on the spot with the hair on the back of my neck standing right up. A sound that reached below intelligence and yanked on that dark part of the ancient brain that screamed ‘danger’. I was shaking again, wanting to pull away from those fetters but not daring to. I didn’t want to wear those again. I really didn’t.
“No,” a voice interjected. The Mediators at the door stood aside to let another through. He came in and stopped, cocking his head to regard me and then the chains. “I don’t think those will be necessary.”
“Ma’am?” the officer said. “He’s run once.”
“But now I think he knows there’s nowhere else to go, a?” Not male, female. Stocky. Not old, but the features were still worn. Dressed in cutoff breeches, a tan quilted vest with overlapping thicker patches of tooled leather on the breast and a silver gorget around the neck. Her fur was salt and pepper, stippled grays and blacks and whites. That wasn’t from age, it was natural coloration. Patches on the right side of her face and down her neck didn’t grow straight, hinting at scars underneath.
“We thought that before, Ma’am.”
She looked at me, seeming amused. I didn’t move, not sure what was happening. “You created quite an embarrassment for him, you know.”
I blinked and looked again. That was when it clicked and I realized the officer with the irons was one of my earlier abductors who’d been carting me north. I was back with them again. Right back where I’d started. And if she couldn’t precisely identify my body language, she could see that I’d reacted to something. “Created problems all around, you did,” she said. “But you won’t be doing that again, a?”
I sagged. “As you said: where can I go?”
She stared for a second and then cocked her head to the other side. “Very good. If you cooperate with us, then we won’t have to take precautions like... this.” A hand gestured toward the chains.
“I understand,” I said.
Her tufted ears flicked once and she turned to the other Mediators. “Get a fixer for that leg. Get him cleaned. I want to see him when you’re done. Watch him, but treat him with courtesy.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the officer said and stood aside as she turned and stalked out. Then, almost as one, their heads swung around to look at me.
------v------
The medical type they produced was another Mediator. He took one look at me and started explaining to the others that he wasn’t a vet. They told him to go to work anyway.
They took my clothes. All of them. Along with the last of my possessions. Mediators watched impassively as I stripped the remnants of my stained clothing and handed it over. They had to cut my pants away: clotting blood had glued the coarse material to my legs, matting in with leg hairs. One of them bundled the clothing up in the storm cloak and carted it away.
There wasn’t just one cut: I had a good half-dozen vertical lacerations around my leg, some scratches, others deep gouges that’d bled freely. I sat on the low table, my bloody hairy leg stuck out as the twitchy medic cleaned the blood away and dusted sulfur powder into the wounds. That wasn’t pleasant. I clenched eyes and teeth, hissing quick breaths to keep from yelling out loud as the doctor worked quickly and nervously. After that the applications of freshly boiled and steaming bandages was almost easy.
A porcelain bowl of hot water and a washcloth were provided and I was told to make myself presentable. I tried to ignore the stares as I washed dirt and grime and sweat away, surprised at just how cloudy the water became. I guess I had been letting myself go a bit, what with all the running for my life and everything.
The Mediator who’d taken my clothes away earlier returned and tossed another bundle onto the bed. I hesitated before unfolding it. There was just a plain shortsleeved tunic and a pair of breeches. Certainly nothing fancy, but it was clothing. That was a gesture I hadn’t been expecting. Nothing like that had been offered last time they’d taken me.
Uncertainly, I stood in the candlelight, brushing the tunic down. It was plain, tight across the shoulder and chest and too short - tailored for a Rris, but it was clean. The pair of guards at the opened door shifted slightly and I looked around as the officer returned.
He looked me up and down and the fur of his muzzle twitched, wrinkling briefly before he said, “Come along. Follow.”
I limped along, out into the hall. The four guards at the door fell in behind. I still had no idea where I was and the hallway didn’t offer many answers. The Mediator Guild perhaps? Wherever it was, it was up-market. There were hints of that in the embroidered carpet on the wooden floor; in the watered glass oil lamps and the brass knobs on the closed doors down the length of the hall. Down the far end of the corridor was a window; shuttered and dark.
The officer halted at one particular door and scratched on the already-gouged announcement plate. For a few seconds he waited and stared at me with amber and black eyes, then an ear twitched to an acknowledgement I couldn’t hear and he lifted the latch.
I was ushered in. Two of the guards followed, taking up station on either side behind me. The room was quite long, dimly lit and sparsely furnished: one wall paneled in dark wood, the others white plaster above carved wooden wainscoting. Opposite me was a window niche: blue-velvet curtains drawn across the glass. In front of that cupola was a low table - a low desk with a brass and milk-glass lamp casting a warm glow. And she was seated at the desk, that light turning her feline features into a study of light and dark as she studied the object in her hands - one of my pistols. There were cartridges neatly arrayed on the desk, standing on end like a line of little brass soldiers. Those shadows and highlights shifted, emphasizing the patches of scaring and where disheveled fur didn’t lay smooth as she looked up and waved a dismissive gesture. Behind me, the officer stepped out, closing the door. The two guards stayed.
“Be seated,” she said, nodding toward a white cushion on my side of the desk. It wasn’t a request, but the opportunity to take some weight off wasn’t one I was going to argue with.
“You’re looking better,” she said as I sat myself down and I saw her glance at the bandages. “Your leg has been attended to satisfactorily?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said nervously. Always pays to be polite when there’re armed guards right at your back.
“Good. You know who I am?”
“No, Ma’am.”
Her ears twitched and then she blinked: a slow, lazy scrunching of her features that carried overtones of a sated predator watching prey. “I’m Jaesith aesh Raeshon, Guild Lord.”
That... was news to me. Shyia and Chaeitch had both mentioned the Guild Lord’s name, and that hadn’t been it. Tired as I was, I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to rock the boat. “Yes, Ma’am,” was all I said.
An ear twitched again. “’Yes, Ma’am. No Ma’am’. I know your [repertoire] is more extensive than that.”
“Apologies,” I said quietly but didn’t offer anything else. I still didn’t know exactly what was happening, so playing dumb seemed to be a good idea. It’d worked for me in the past, and at that moment it wasn’t all acting.
“Ah,” she raised her muzzle a fraction. Her hands were still holding the pistol. Having been designed for my hands it was too large for her to grip comfortably, but she wasn’t holding it like that; just cradling it in her hands. A single claw was tapping, clicking against the metal of the frame as she studied me.
“Quite grotesque, aren’t you,” she said finally. “I saw some sketches, but they never really did you justice. I’d thought perhaps you might really turn out to be a deformed Rris, or perhaps a trained animal, but you’re something else. Really, quite intriguing.”
I swallowed a retort and I think she saw that. An ear flickered.
“Hai, anyway, caused a lot of commotion, haven’t you. Q
uite surprising really; something like you hiding from the Guild for so long, and in the middle of a city where one might have thought you’d be a little... conspicuous. It’s quite remarkable. And quite a problem. I wasn’t planning on traveling all the way to Open Fields and becoming involved like this, but you seem to have a way of changing plans. You were told we were trying to help you and you still ran. Why?”
I took a breath. “You... your people... abducted me. They didn’t go out of their way to make me trust them.”
She cocked her head. “You were mistreated?”
I held up my hands, moving carefully as I was all too aware of the armed guards watching me intently from over by the door. The marks around my wrists were livid and scabbed.
“Huhn,” Jaesith mused, finger still stroking the dark metal. “They were a little over-zealous in their duties. They had their orders to make sure nothing happened to you. Those wounds... that was not intentional.”
“And why did they take me in the first place?” I ventured.
The clicking of that tapping finger paused and I swallowed again as she regarded me. I still wasn’t sure exactly what capacity I was there under. A guest, as she said? Or was my attendance less than voluntary? If that was the case, then my asking questions wouldn’t be welcome.
“Because,” she said eventually and slowly, “they were trying to save your life. Events moved quickly and there wasn’t much time to get updated orders, so they acted on their own discretion and removed you from the immediate danger. You chose to run straight back into the fire.”
“Fire?”
A notched ear flickered back. “You do understand a figure of speech? A? You ran right back to the worst place you could. You know the usurpers will kill you on sight? They’ve been trying to.”
“I know now.”
“Huhn, without much success, fortunately. And now perhaps we can help each other.”
“Ah,” I said quietly. “And how can we do that?”
“We can help you stay alive. We can give you transportation out of Open Fields. We can provide you with Guild protection and patronage.”
I hesitated a second and then carefully asked, “Who, exactly, is after me? They claimed to be Guild.”
Jaesith hissed softly. “No. Not Guild. They’re a group of renegades. Outcasts who’ve decided that you’re too dangerous to live.”
“Dangerous?” I protested. “I’m not dangerous. I don’t want any trouble. I just want to live my life and they want me dead?!”
“A,” Jaesith aesh Raeshon said, calmly regarding me through amber eyes in a scared face.
“But why?”
“You bring new ideas. Ideas that necessitate change. Those changes raise the possibility of a threat to peace and stability. The Mediator charter is to maintain the law and maintain the peace, and some decided that could best be performed by simply... removing the source of those problems.”
I stared.
“Foolish,” she continued in the same conversational tone. “Wasteful foolishness. A great opportunity is placed in our grasp and discarding it in a fit of mindless fear at what might be is just foolishness. There will be change; there will be turmoil; there always is; that is a certainty, but that passes, as all things do. After the storm the air is always so fresh and clear, a? And there is so much you can do, so much you can tell us, so much we can learn from you.”
The pistol was laid down on the polished wooden desk with a solid thud and she leaned forward, eyes glinting.
“With your assistance the Guild can finally fulfill its original charter. With your knowledge we can feed the populace; we can heal and treat disease; we can bring peace to the lands. You will give us the means to bring the countries together under unified order.”
“Ma’am?” I asked carefully, suddenly really not liking where this was going. But displaying that might not be such a good idea.
“This.”
I glanced down at the desktop, at her finger claw tapping the pistol. When I looked up, her expression was one I’d seen on Chaeitch’s face sometimes when he was intent on something: an intensity, a fervor. “The Mediator Guild was created to bring balance, to keep the peace. This we try to do, but at times it’s like trying to sweep the tide out. Every country has its own plans, it’s own disagreements and skirmishes. When we smooth the hides in one location, trouble flares elsewhere. The governments adhere to the wording of the charter, but they always find ways to undermine and worm around that wording.”
She picked the gun up, hooked by a finger through the trigger guard so it dangled between us. Swinging back and forth between us. “You made this tool. I know you have knowledge of larger, more powerful devices. In the right hands these would produce a [force majeur] that none would even want to oppose. I know you have knowledge of other devices for communicating instantly over great distances, for transportation. They are the means for bringing the lands under singular control; they are the means for holding it.”
Oh. Oh shit. I thought it, and was so careful not to express it.
“And the Guild can do that. We can end the squabbling and bickering over lands and borders. We can bring the countries together into one entity under the guidance of the Guild. Instead of being divided, we can become one. And as one, we become so much stronger than the sum of the parts.”
“One people under Guild, a?” I ventured and regretted it instantly.
She blinked, slowly. “A. Quite. Interesting phrasing, but yes.” Carefully she put the gun down on top of a pile of papers. “I’ve heard some of the stories about you; about where you come from. A land occupied solely by creatures like yourself, remarkable. And it’s also said that that land is controlled by one body. One government.”
“Yes,” I slowly gestured affirmative. Someone had been talking. Again. And I didn’t know how much they’d told her so I’d have to be very careful with my responses. If she caught a lie, that could go badly for me.
“Then you know that this is what must happen. This is the only way our people can grow.”
And I didn’t know what to say. Sure, the States were united, but the cost that’d been paid for that... It’d been a civil war! The country had been torn apart before it’d been rebuilt. And she was advocating...
“And you doubtless have other abilities and knowledge. Strategic and tactical suggestions. Medical assistance... we can certainly help each other. We can help you live. You can help us undertake this unification. Together we can repair this world.”
I gaped helplessly.
Again she dipped her head slightly and said, “A big decision, I understand that. Perhaps a few hours to think on it, a?”
Cautiously I tipped my hand in an affirmative. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
There was a gesture of dismissal and behind me the guards stirred. I looked at aesh Raeshon’s cool gaze and then stiffly clambered back up to my feet. A guard opened the door and stepped aside, holding it open for me.
“A moment,” aesh Raeshon’s voice stopped me. “I’ve also heard that you can become quite... attached to people. There’s someone in Shattered Water? One Chihirae? A teacher, I believe?”
The muscles in my face felt like glass as they froze.
“Yes, I heard you are quite fond of her. I’m sure we can find a way to take care of her as well,” she said through that calm stare. “Depending on your cooperation, of course.”
“Of course,” I said, aware of how choked it sounded.
“Until later,” she said and the door closed.
------v------
Someone was shouting outside. The yowling drifted up through the stillness of the early morning, only slightly muffled by the shuttered window.
I sat on the stuffed ticking pad of the bed, leaning back against the wall and listened to the noises with a corner of my mind. Wit
h the rest I was worrying.
I’d found trouble again. More than I’d imagined. Two factions of Mediators and – putting it simply - the good guys wanted me dead and the bad guys wanted to save my life. And on top of that, the bad guy…gal was as mad as a meataxe.
God, she made it sound so simple and sanitized, but no matter how she spun it, what she was advocating was fucking civil war. There was no way that it’d be as simple and as clean as she said. There wasn’t anything I could give her that’d make nations simply bow to the will of a faction. There’d be fighting; there’d be upheaval and bloodshed. No matter what sort of weapons she had, people would fight. And before long, they’d have the same technology she did.
She was giving me time to think about it, so she said. Very generous. Of course there was that parting comment. The way she’d worded it, it hadn’t sounded like a threat. I’m sure she’d say it was more like a promise. Something overly dramatic like that. Whatever she called it, I didn’t have any doubt it was quite sincere and that Chihirae would be dragged into it if I didn’t give her the answer she wanted.
Even if I did say yes she’d still be in danger. They’d want leverage, to make absolutely sure I co-operated. Or even just ensure that nobody else could use her against me.
Outside was quiet now. The shouting had stopped and the only sound I could hear was the occasional creak of floorboards as Rris guards moved in the corridor. For the next few hours I sat with that silence ringing in my ears and those thoughts churning relentlessly in my head.
------v------
They came for me a lot earlier than I’d expected. I’d been hoping for a few more hours. Some time in which to plan and perhaps get some sleep, but they had other ideas. It was still early out there, maybe about 3AM, when there was a metallic rattling from the lock as a key was turned and then the door swung in. The pair of guards outside warily looked around the room before stepping inside and beckoning to me.
