Hot Sleep: The Worthing Chronicle

by Orson Scott Card

  Hoom and Dilna spent the evening weaving and sewing together, and then went to bed.

  In the morning she felt a familiar nausea, and vomited before breakfast.

  "Well?" Hoom asked her as she came back from the privy.

  "Damn," she said. "Why now?"

  "It's hard to pick the time," he said, laughing. "This one we'll have," he said. He held her tightly around the waist. She smiled at him, but there was nothing behind the smile. She knew when her last fertile time had been — damn Stipock for even telling them about the cycle within the cycle — and it was possible, just possible, that Wix was the father. And he and Hoom looked so different.

  Don't borrow trouble, she told herself. I've got months yet, and heaven knows the chances are better that it'll look like Hoom.

  As always, Hoom misunderstood what she was worried about. "Two miscarriages aren't that bad," he said, consoling her. "Plenty of women have had two and then on the third pregnancy, the baby was born. Which do you want, a boy or a girl?"

  "Yes," she answered, reviving the old joke from their last pregnancy, and then she told him she felt good enough to go to Firstfield.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Once I throw up I'm always fine," she said. "And I'm sure as hell not missing the vote."

  So they walked to the shore and got in Hoom's small boat. This time Dilna was at the tiller, the less strenuous job, while Hoom tended sail. The wind from the west and the current from the east made crossing tricky — every gust of wind meant quick adjustments so the boat wouldn't veer in the current. But they sailed into Linkeree's Bay, where dozens of other boats were already landed, and still more were just coming across the river.

  The group from Stipock's Bay walked to Firstfield together, as their friends and sympathizers — mostly young — from Heaven City joined them along the way. The talk was cheerful and neutral — about anything but the upcoming vote — and they arrived in Firstfield in good humor.

  Once there, however, they quickly got down to business. "What's the count?" Hoom asked, and Wix smiled as he said, "I don't think anybody stayed home today. On either side."

  "How will the vote turn out?" Dilna asked.

  "Well, Aven's sure that at least half his people will vote for the compromise. And with ours, there's no chance of it failing." Wix looked around. "Even Billin's smiling and looking happy. And he swore he'd do anything before he'd let the Warden keep power over us."

  Hoom put his arm around Dilna. "When it comes down to it, Billin's a pretty sensible man. Just loves to hear himself talk."

  But Dilna was watching Billin as he chattered happily not far away, surrounded by his supporters. Billin had been talking for weeks of how nothing short of complete freedom from the Warden — and from Jason — would be acceptable to him. He seems too happy right now, she thought.

  I'm just depressed because of the pregnancy, she thought.

  But she was not the only one depressed when the no vote was considerably louder than the yes vote. Concerned, Wix leaped to his feet at the same time as Aven, and both of them shouted for a count. "Closer than we thought it would be," Wix said as he sat down. "Trust the diehards to yell louder."

  But the count made it even more obvious. In favor of the partial independence were a clear majority of the Uniters. But among the people of Stipock's Bay, fully two–thirds were opposed.

  Noyock finished the count, and shook his head. "People of Heaven City , I don't understand you!" he shouted.

  Aven leaped to his feet. "I understand! Those crossriver bastards make all kinds of promises, but nothing comes of it!"

  Many of the older people grumbled their agreement, and Billin shouldered his way through the crowd to the front. "May I speak?" he asked. Noyock shook his head. "Anybody who wants to listen to you, Billin, is free to. But I'm closing the council. Heaven City stands as a unit. The vote was against separation, and that's all I can do."

  Noyock walked away from the front, and many of the older people gathered around him followed him away from Firstfield. Billin, undisturbed, began to shout.

  "Why did we vote against the so–called compromise?" he asked.

  "Who the hell cares!" Wix shouted back, and those who had voted for it laughed.

  "We voted against that so–called compromise because it was a trap set by these Jason–loving old men, to keep us under the thumb of their precious Warden! Well, we don't need you here in Heaven City , and we don't have to settle for your outmoded, rigid, stupid laws and decisions! We'll cross that river, and take all the boats with us, and you can keep your Heaven City and we'll be a new city ! Stipock City ! A place where people are free!"

  A thin cheer arose from those who had voted with Billin — and a few others.

  "Let's get out of here," Dilna said.

  "I agree," Hoom said.

  "What I want to know," Wix shouted, even as he was walking through the crowd to leave with them, "is what you plan to do for metal if we don't cross the river!"

  "That's Wix for you!" Billin shouted. "If he didn't think of a plan himself, he doesn't like it!" Laughter. "Well, Wix, three days ago Coren, Rewen, and Hanlatta came back from a little exploring party to the north of the river. And sure enough, they found what they were looking for! Copper! Tin! A supply as good as anything here on this side of the river! We're independent in every way now! So let the old men and the old women sit over here for the rest of their lives. We'll build a city that's a decent place to live in! We'll have no Warden! We'll have no God who tells us what we can and cannot do! We'll have no..."

  Dilna, Hoom, and Wix were far enough up Noyock's Road that they didn't have to listen anymore. Several of their friends were with them, and the silence was depressing as they walked up the hill.

  Soon, however, they began joking, clowning, mocking each other and the events of the day. And by the time they reached the rest of the hill, they were laughing.

  Stipock was standing, alone, on the hill.

  "Didn't you go to the council?" Hoom asked him.

  Stipock shook his head. "I knew how it would end."

  "I didn't," Hoom said. "I wish you'd told me. Before we set ourselves up as idiots." Hoom laughed, but the mood was suddenly somber again.

  "I might have been wrong," Stipock said. Wix laughed, spoke loudly so all could hear: "Do you hear that? Write it down — it's the first time we've heard him say it. Stipock might have been wrong!"

  Stipock smiled thinly. "The feelings run too deep. Too many people love to hate. People aren't willing to work together."

  "As the man who taught us that division was a wonderful thing, it's odd you should suddenly love peace and cooperation so much."

  Stipock looked very tired. "You don't know. I was born and raised in the Empire. Too many laws, so much oppression, everything far too rigid. And overnight I was put here, and I had to fight those laws, relieve that oppression, loosen things up."

  "Damn right," Wix said.

  "Well," Stipock said, "it can get a little out of hand." And then he looked down from the hill toward Linkeree's Bay. And all the eyes followed his, and saw the flames and the smoke rising. The boats were burning.

  They shouted, and most of them ran down the hill, screaming threats that they couldn't possibly carry out, shouting for them to stop, not to burn the boats.

  Only Dilna stayed with Stipock and they walked slowly down the road toward the bay. "Your plans didn't work, did they, Stipock."

  "Or worked too well. The one thing I didn't count on, you see, was the fanaticism of the people I converted too well, and this kind of reaction from the people I antagonized too much."

  "There it is, you know," Dilna said. "You're just like Jason in your own way, Stipock. Twisting people around to do what you want them to do. Playing God with their lives. And what do you think will be left when the smoke dies down?"

  And Dilna sped up, leaving Stipock walking slowly behind her.

  At the burning ships, Wix and Hoom were having a shouting match with Ave
n and Noyock. Dilna ignored them. Just watched the flames and the red coals of burnt wood.

  "... Have no right!..." she heard her husband shout, and she only sighed, marveling at how people who hated laws pleaded for rights when their opponents, too, turned lawless.

  "... Won't have this city split apart by children..." came Noyock's voice, angry and yet still, in his own way, trying to reason.

  "Our homes are on the other side!" Wix cried out. And Noyock answered, "We'll let anyone who swears to loyally support and obey the laws Jason gave us build a new boat and cross the Heaven River ."

  "You don't have the right to stop us!" Hoom shouted again, and this time Aven answered his son.

  "I heard what you people were saying — separation whether we voted for it or not. ‘We own the boats,' you say! Well, you and your damned Stipock made us start changing the laws by majority vote. And so you damn well better be ready to abide by majority vote! And we're going to see to it you do, whether you like it or not!"

  And Dilna couldn't see the flames anymore, for the tears running down her cheeks. I'm pregnant, she told herself. That's why things like this could make me cry. But she knew that it wasn't pregnancy . It was grief and fear. Grief for what was happening to people; fear of what would happen next.

  What could the people from Stipock's Bay do, anyway? They had all come — there was no one left on the other side to bring a boat and take them across in the night. No one could swim the river — the current was too swift, and it was three kilometers wide at the narrowest point. They had none of their carpentry tools, and the older people were brandishing their axes and torches as if they'd gladly break a head or two, if one were offered.

  She left the fire and walked slowly to where Hoom and Wix were still arguing furiously with Aven and Noyock.

  "We don't want any trouble," said Noyock, "but I won't let you break up the City!"

  "Break it up!" You call this holding it together?" Hoom shouted back.

  Behind each group of leaders was a gathering crowd of supporters. Both crowds looked equally angry; but the crucial difference was the sharp tools the older men held in their hands. Dilna walked into the space between the two groups.

  She said nothing, and after a few moments they realized that she wasn't joining into the argument on either side. "What is it?" Noyock asked.

  "All this talk," Dilna said, "won't build the ships for us. And all the shouting doesn't find us a place to stay warm tonight. I want my husband to build me a shelter. We'll need tools to do it."

  And Dilna turned around to find herself looking directly into Wix's eyes. She averted her gaze, found Hoom's concerned face. Behind her, she could hear Aven saying, "We can't give them tools — they'd build boats in a week. Not to mention busting our heads in."

  Dilna whirled on him. "You should have thought of that before you stole our homes from us. I'm pregnant, Aven. Do you want me to spend the night in the open air?"

  Noyock turned to Aven and said, mildly, "They're right. Maybe a few tools — enough to rig some kind of shelter before nightfall."

  "Why?" Aven asked. "Not one of them but has parents that'd be only too glad to invite ‘em back into their homes."

  Wix's father, the usually gentle Ross, raised his hand and said, "That's right, there's no hard feelings. We'd be glad to give them food and shelter!"

  Wix's face was twisted with fury. "Give us food and shelter! There's not one of us but has plenty of food and shelter across the river! You stole it from us! You don't give us one damn thing! It's ours by right!"

  "Rights, rights!" shouted Aven. "You little lying bastards don't have any rights!"

  Dilna turned back to Wix and Hoom. "Enough, enough," she said quietly. "In a brawl we'd lose. Whatever we do, we can't do it here."

  "She's right," Hoom said. "Let's go."

  "Where?" Wix asked.

  Hoom looked up the hill toward Noyock's Town. "The forest just north of the Pasture. We can take fence rails and rig a shelter."

  Dilna turned back to Noyock. "Do you hear that, Noyock? We're going to take fence rails from you and build shelter. That way we won't have to touch your tools."

  Noyock, eager to end the quarrel without violence, agreed, and Hoom, Wix, and the rest of the crowd straggled away from the beach, heading back up the hill. It was already afternoon, and there was much to do before night.

  Noyock caught Dilna's arm before she could leave the beach. "Dilna — please listen. I want you to know, this wasn't my idea. When I got here, the boats were already burning."

  "There's a law," Dilna said, "about destroying another man's property. You're the man who loves the law — imprison these men until Jason comes."

  "I can't," Noyock said miserably. "There are too many of them."

  "There are more than a few of us, too," Dilna retorted. "This is Linkeree and the ax all over again. Only you're not Kapock."

  As she walked away, Noyock called after her: "It wasn't me that worked so bloody hard to strip all the power away from the Warden, it was you! If I still had that power, I could protect you!" But she didn't turn to answer. When she got to the brow of the hill, she stopped and looked back at the beach. Noyock was still there alone, watching the last flames die. On impulse she ran back down the hill, all the way to where he stood. "Warden," she said, "we'll need a fire tonight. Will Jason approve, do you think, of our taking some of the wood from our ships to start it?"

  He set his face like stone and turned away. She picked up a piece of wood that was still burning on one end, and whose other end had been in the water until then. And once again she climbed the hill.

  The people of Stipock's Bay were gathered in a small clearing in the forest, trying to turn fence rails, branches, and dead leaves into lean–tos for the night. Few of them looked sturdy, and Dilna looked at the sky, grateful that the clouds had gone, and the sky was clear. When Wix saw the torch, he smiled. "Wise woman," he said, and called to several men to rig a fire. Again, they had to use fence rails, so the fire was built in a large square, hollow in the middle. "I only wish we could burn down the whole damn fence," Wix said, as he lit the fire.

  "Burning's a good idea," said a voice from the edge of the clearing. Many of the people working turned to see who it was. Billin.

  "Ah, Billin," said Wix. "I thought you were still down in Firstfield, giving a speech."

  "The time for speeches is over."

  "How clever," Wix said. "Now he realizes that."

  "I just saw the ashes of our boats," said Billin, raising his voice to be heard by all. "I just saw the ruins of our last hope for peace! And I say to you —"

  What he was going to say to them no one knew, because at that moment Wix strode forward and struck him so hard in the stomach that Billin's feet left the ground, and he collapsed, gasping, in the dirt.

  "The ruins of our last hope for peace aren't on the beach, Billin!" Wix shouted. "The ruins are back in Firstfield, when you and the pebblebrained oxen who followed you wrecked the only compromise we could have had! It was you that caused the burning of our boats, Billin! So you can shut up for a few days, or I'll put you deep enough in the river that you'll be singing to the fishes for eternity!"

  The silence rang out after Wix finished his impassioned speech. Then Billin groaned, and slowly dragged himself to his feet. Everyone got back to work. But when conversations resumed, they were more bitter than ever before.

  When night fell, they gathered around the fire, staring at the flames. Some women from Noyock's Town and Linkeree's Bay brought food before dark. It wasn't enough, but it was something, and they swallowed their pride and ate it. Now they sat and watched the fence rails shrink in the fire.

  "I've been thinking all day about what Billin said," Hoom said in one of the dismal lulls in the conversation. "And I think he's right. Burning's a good idea."

  "And what do we burn, the whole city?" asked Wix, scornfully.

  "No, no," Hoom said. "But the old people, they've hated the boats from the beginni
ng, the boats have meant our freedom from them. They burned them." Hoom stood up and walked around the fire. He was no orator, but the very quietness of his speech made them listen all the more. "Well, there's a few things they've been using as weapons against us. The Warden, for instance." Someone laughed and said, "Does that mean we burn Noyock?"

  Hoom smiled and shook his head. "Noyock's done us no harm. Just his office. There's something else, though. The History."

  Several people snorted. The History, constantly held over their heads as "proof" that things must be done the old way.

  "They burned our boats," Hoom said. "So let's burn their History. It's far less harm than they've done to us. You know what our fields will be like if we let them sit for a month, unharvested. My fruit trees will be bare, with the fruit rotting on the ground. They've destroyed our homes and our livelihoods — nobody could say we've been excessive if we destroy their stupid History."

  A few chuckled, and the idea began to look more appealing.

  Wix spoke up. "Easily said. But they're armed against us, and they'll fight to protect it. It's — it's a God–thing to them, they keep it for Jason. They'll fight."

  "So," Hoom said, "we won't announce what we're after. Not a large number of us, either. We'll just wait until everybody's asleep at Noyock's house, and we'll break in, rush up the stairs, and burn the damn thing before they even know what we're about."

  "Break in? Is it that easy?"

  "It will be for me. I can get in," Hoom said. And so the plan was made. The crescent moon was high in the sky as they emerged from the forest, far to the west of their camp. Only one of them held a torch; the rest carried unlit torches and kindling wood. They walked in silence, and approached the tall house from the west, where it was less likely that anyone would be watching.

  There were no lights in the house, and so they, set immediately to work. Wix pointed to a spot beside the house, and the kindling was laid down: Then Hoom, who carried the lit torch, ignited the kindling. As it flamed, they all put their torches in. After a few minutes, they were all ablaze. Then Hoom raised his torch, and they all followed him to the kitchen door.