by Andy Giesler
We called her Gebohra Muerta.
Many things happened after the Reckoning, but those are for another story. This story is about Gabriel Morton, who lived so very long ago, so I’m told. Who, while it was not his intention, planted the Nothing within us all.
2
Gabriel and the Wrathful Woodsmith
When Gabriel had finished telling Root his story, he waited. Judging from her scowling silence, he expected it might take her a while to think it all through. He wasn’t sure when he’d last told anyone the whole story. Maybe Ruth Troyer, he thought. Maybe not since the Reckoning.
It didn’t take Root as long as he’d expected.
“How much of that story’s even true?” she asked.
“All of it,” he said. “I haven’t lied to you.”
“But you did lie to me,” she said. “You said I was Aura Lee Rosada, but I know I ain’t. The Humble Weaver told me I’m Shepherd Lee’s child for true.”
“You spoke with the Humble?” he asked, surprised.
“Shepherd Gabriel, I have an awful lot of questions, but three are burdening me. So how about this? You give straight and simple answers to my three questions, without no hints nor fluff. If you’re still alive after my questions, I will for sure consider answering yours. Right now, though, you’re going to answer mine.”
He smiled a little. “I’m no shepherd, Root, nor anything else. I’m just Gabriel now. But your request is fair. Neither the Humble Weaver nor I lied to you. The Humble is the cleverest weaver in generations, but she can only tell you what she can understand. She can’t begin to understand the Nothing.”
“Well. I hope you live through my questions, Shep…Gabriel. Because now I’m looking forward to telling you a thing or two about what the Humble Weaver understood.”
“Root, you’re Aura Lee’s daughter, and you’re Aura Lee. Both are true.
“A man with wholesome naughts can never have a child. When his seed leaves his body, it dies.
“A woman with wholesome naughts can almost never have a child. Usually, when a man’s seed begins to grow within her, the naughts see it as an invader, and they stop the seed from growing into a child. But sometimes instead of removing it, the naughts see that growing seed as a mistake. They fix the mistake by making the seed be more like the mother. By the time the naughts are finished, the child’s genes…the…the rules for how that baby will grow, they’re exactly the same as her mother’s. Once the naughts are finished with that baby, no part of her father remains. That baby girl will have her own life, and her own thoughts, but her body will be as like to her mother’s as one twin is to another.
“In all the long years since the Reckoning, only seven children have been born to shepherds. You know one of them. Surecreek’s shepherds? Lydia is Rachel’s daughter, and is also her twin. As you are with Lee.”
He paused a moment. “Aura Lee never told me who fathered you. I only know he wasn’t a shepherd, since our seed can’t take purchase in a woman’s belly. She wasn’t the first shepherd to share love with one of the People. But whoever he was, nothing of him passed down to you. You’re as nearly alike Aura Lee as one person can be to another.”
Gabriel waited while Root took this in.
“Alright,” she said. “That might not be a lie. Second question. Why did the shepherds kill Surecreek?”
Now it was Gabriel’s turn to take something in. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then he said, “If you do let me live, I’ll ask how you know that.” He thought a moment. “In the beginning, there was war among the shepherds.”
“This does not sound like a straight and simple answer,” Root grumbled.
Gabriel continued. “There was war among the shepherds, and most of us died. A foolish thing to war over. How to protect the People. Disagreement became anger, became war.
“Those in Lee’s camp believed we should tell the People everything about naughts and the ancient tools. They believed giving the People knowledge would help them protect themselves. But those in Livv’s camp believed knowledge leads to curiosity, and one day the People might seek toward the ancient tools rather than running from them. Livv warned that even one such person might find an ancient tool, and wake the People’s naughts, and so bring ruin to us all.”
“Wait,” Root said. “You can’t call both camps ‘them.’”
He nodded. “Neither Lee’s camp nor Livv’s much cared what I thought. But eventually, when I had to choose, I chose to stand with Lee. She was smarter than me. Smarter than nearly anyone. I decided she was probably closer to the truth.
“Livv’s camp began quietly killing those among the People who were curious in the wrong ways, or explored too far, or tried to create new things. Curiosity was a disease as dangerous as chimeras, she said, so she culled them to stop it from spreading. Soon it wasn’t enough to cull just one person. A family. A village. Whoever had been exposed to the disease of curiosity. It sickened most of her shepherds to do it, but there’s a terrible power in belief. Especially when so much is at stake.
“When Lee’s camp learned of this, we went to war. Through long years, most of us died. If more had died, we couldn’t protect the People. So we made a truce—an agreement to end a war. It was the only time ever I saw Aura Lee compromise. We all hated the truce, but it held for over sixteen hundred years. We agreed that Livv’s camp would perform the cull, but only when all of them agreed, even those among them who regretted the cull. And Aura Lee’s camp would teach the People how to be safe, but we wouldn’t tell the full truth behind it.”
“Festival,” Root said.
Gabriel nodded. “Festival, council meetings, weaver gatherings. We taught, and we tried to learn who might do something dangerous, so we could pull those folks back and save them from culling.”
“You…you shepherds culled us to be timid,” said Root, scowling. “The way we might cull chickens for…for better meat!”
Gabriel shrugged. “That wasn’t planned, but that’s what happened. It worried us. There were always throwbacks, though, like the Humble Weaver. The truce meant we could protect them. Try to keep them from doing anything too dangerous. And the truce held until Aura Lee decided to break it, just before she died.”
Root cocked her head. “Why did she break it?”
“Fewer shepherds in Livv’s camp resisted culling. Some who resisted it wearied and took the Shepherd’s Rest. Others died, sometimes in suspicious ways. Those who were more eager for culling remained. Shepherds in Lee’s camp died, too. In the end, only she and I remained. She decided to do something.”
“So they killed her,” Root said.
Gabriel made the shadow of a groan. He looked into the woods.
“But how did Weaver Root come to raise me?” Root asked after a while.
“If they hadn’t killed Surecreek, you could ask her. So we’ve taken the long path back to your question. That’s why Livv’s shepherds culled villages. Surecreek in particular? I can guess. They worried what you might have learned about your nature. They worried what your naughtwork might have said to you, and who you might have told. They worried that if Surecreek thought a wicked young woman was very much like a shepherd, they’d trust the shepherds less.”
It was Root’s time to look into the woods, rocking back and forth so gently it hardly showed. He waited quietly while she did.
“Last question,” she said softly. “How did you take the Shepherd’s Gift from me?”
Gabriel reached for the other pack he’d brought from Greencreek. Michael’s pack. “The Shepherd’s Gift,” he said. “I haven’t heard it called that, but I took it from you with…” He rummaged for a moment, then pulled something from the pack and pressed it into her hand. “With this.”
It was long and rounded, not much larger than a hen’s egg. She frowned as her fingers played across its surface.
“It’s a case,” he said. “Open it.”
She felt around its edge and found a fine seam. When she pried at it w
ith her nail, it opened with a sucking sound. She explored the interior with her fingertips.
Inside was a smaller thing. She lifted it out. “Hard and cool as metal, yet lighter than pine,” she said. Finding a seam, she pulled at it, then tried pushing, and half of it slid to the side. Her fingers brushed a small round bump like a smooth pebble in the center.
“Don’t push that,” Gabriel said. “The thing in the case is called an Ender. I’m not sure how you re-awoke your naughts, but if you push that bump in the center, you’ll put them back to sleep.”
“And yours too?” Root asked, closing it.
“Oh, the shepherds put mine to sleep years ago.”
“Hunh,” she said, her fingers running over it.
“Aura Lee created those. Tools that obey only a shepherd’s touch. They’re like a small Reckoning. If there’s an ancient tool within a few hundred paces, this breaks it. If there’s a chimera we can’t kill, our last choice is to put its naughts to sleep. That puts our own to sleep as well, but we’re not surprised. So when I couldn’t convince you to come with me back at the waterfall on Slowbird Creek…”
“I didn’t know it took your Gift away, too,” she said. “Else I might not have hit you with that rock.” She paused. “Well. Maybe I might have. I don’t know.” She closed the case and returned it to Gabriel.
“Just after the Reckoning, we used up most of the Enders trying to make places safe for the People by breaking ancient tools.” He put the case back in Michael’s pack. “We gave up on trying to make the Somber safe…it was too hard to find all the ancient tools there. But in the rest of the World That Is, we managed to destroy most of them. In the long years since, the surviving tools seemed to be fading. Chimeras happened less and less often. It had been nearly a hundred years since the last chimera. Then, just before you were born, two appeared, only a year apart.
“Aura Lee was frantic. She saw it as the beginning of something awful. She saw a world where chimeras rose again while the shepherds had dwindled to nearly nothing. That’s what finally made her break the truce. She wanted to tell the People everything, to give them a chance to look after themselves.” He shrugged. “She was right. Chimeras are appearing as they haven’t since the Reckoning. We might be nearing the end of things.”
“Oh, that,” Root said. “I took care of that.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“Now, Gabriel, I want to be real clear. I haven’t decided yet whether you ought to live. But while I think on that, I don’t mind telling you a thing or two.”
So she did.
3
The Road From Here
I smiled at Gabriel, and I’ll admit I felt a touch prideful at what I was about to tell him.
“Oh, that,” I said, sounding carefree. “I took care of that.”
Gabriel stared at me.
“Now, Gabriel,” I said, “I want to be real clear about something. I haven’t decided yet whether you ought to live. But while I think on that, I don’t mind telling you a thing or two.”
So I did.
I told him of my time with the Outcasts, and of Eulee’s list. Of how I escaped and was cared for by the Alters. Of the Humble Weaver and the Hidden Folk and what they’d done. Of that tanner from Muddy Bend. Of how I woke the Nothing within me. And as Gabriel’s quiet consternation grew, I’ll admit my enjoyment grew too, just a whittle.
When I finished, he asked, “Their Holy. What did you do with it?”
“I hid it,” I said.
“We need to destroy it.”
“You’re welcome to look for it.”
He sighed. Then he said, “Okay,” but it sounded like it was only okay for now. “It’s remarkable they found it. We’ve been destroying ancient tools since the Reckoning. Those that were useful, we gathered in Haven. It’s been over fifty years since we last found a working tool. Whatever the Holy is, it was in a shielded box. Before the Reckoning, someone didn’t want it found. Maybe it was something for the war. Or maybe it was just somebody’s dirty little secret.”
“The box. So that’s why the Reckoning didn’t break it?”
“No,” he said. “The only shield against the Reckoning was around Haven, and the Reckoning destroyed it. The Reckoning touched everything outside of Haven. It surprised us that any tools survived unbroken. The Holy’s box is just to keep it from…I’m not sure how to make this clear. Tools from so very long ago, they spoke with one another. They spoke with a voice our ears can’t hear. When the naughts hear that voice, it wakes them. A shield box keeps ancient tools from speaking and listening. So long as it was in its box, the Holy couldn’t wake anyone’s naughts. It couldn’t create any chimeras.”
He shook his head. “The Humble Weaver was chasing a false dream. Shepherds have wholesome naughts of a pure line from before the Reckoning. By now, everyone else has chimeric naughts just waiting to wake up. She never could have woken the Shepherd’s Gift in anyone else. Only the shepherds’ naughts—and yours—are still wholesome. Even so, the Humble Weaver understood enough of what we said to cause so much ruin. Thank you, Root, for doing what was needed. That delays the end a little while.”
“Delays it? Gabriel, I’m real sure they won’t be turning innocent folks into beasts no more.”
“I’m sure they won’t. But the waters in the Void are rising. In a few more generations when they over-top, the Void won’t set us apart from the World That Was anymore. It’ll just be a lake around the World That Is. We don’t know what’s alive out there, if anything at all. But if there are chimeras, and if they can swim…I’m afraid. And I don’t know what to do.”
That unsettled me, to hear a shepherd say it. “What road do we take from here?” I asked.
“I see no road. At least not for me. Livv knows the value of Festival, and she needed me to help with one more so Michael could learn it. After that, they promised to let me grow old in peace.”
“Don’t suppose you were going to grow old in peace.”
“No. Greencreek was the last Festival village. I assumed Michael would kill me tonight. That’s probably why he came out after me, thinking I was running off. So a road to anywhere in the World That Is would be better than one to Haven. But no road is good anymore.”
“We’ll stand against them. We’ll end the culling,” I said.
“They’ll kill us.”
I nodded toward Shepherd Michael’s body. “They’ll try.”
“Root,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, “Michael was the fiercest of them, and you survived him. Aura Lee’s naughts were advanced beyond the others’, so yours are, too. But that doesn’t matter. Even she didn’t lightly face two shepherds at once. You can’t stand against seven.”
“But when we wake your naughts, you can—”
“Mine are weaker. I’m stronger and faster than an ordinary person, but against the other Shepherds? My naughts won’t help.”
“Maybe they’ll help enough.” I pushed on. “So when we wake them, we’ll—”
“We won’t wake my naughts,” Gabriel said with a hard voice.
And that spun me around just a touch. I’d never heard his gentle voice so tight. “Why not?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, he sounded like he might be as old as he was. “Because I’m done,” he said. “I can’t anymore. I’m a person now, like any other.” I sat quiet, hoping he’d say more, that he might give me something I could argue him out of it. But finally, he just said, “I can’t.”
Well.
Right about then I was afraid, too, just like Gabriel, and I didn’t know what to do any better than he did, neither. We sat there beside each other for some little while, looking off into the woods, listening to the night.
After a bit, my thoughts got me to the only place I could imagine. “We can’t stand against them,” I said.
“No.”
“Can we sneak around them?”
He turned his head to me slow. “What?”
“We
could do what Aura Lee wanted,” I said. “But without the fighting. Sneak from one village to the next telling the truth, so folks can get ready for whatever comes. Village by village, long as we’re able, ’til the shepherds end us.”
“An Outcast and an old man who’s taken the Shepherd’s Rest? Root. They won’t believe us.”
“Gabriel, for such a very old fellow, your wisdom sometimes runs a little thin.” And that got his attention. “You can’t know whether they’ll believe you. You must have no idea how high folks hold you. Most shepherds are a fright, coming as they do when dreadful things happen. So a shepherd who visits when nothing’s happened? Who just sits about and asks questions and listens to the answers without killing nothing? Who’s been making old folks giggle since they left their mama’s teat? I can’t say they’ll believe you. I can’t say that for true. But I can say they might.”
“Root, I don’t think…”
“And say, do you know what? As an extra treat, if you come along with me and promise to give this a try, just for the littlest while, I promise not to kill you as punishment for all the terrible things you’ve done.” I sighed real loud. “Otherwise? Who can say.”
He whuffed his little laugh. “I’d be rude to refuse such a warm and gentle gift as that.” He thought on it a bit, shaking his head real slow and tugging at his beard. Then he said, “I’ll die one way or another. It might as well be doing something Lee would approve of.”
We talked long into the night, wondering how we might go about this desperate and unlikely thing.
4
Grandmother's Voice
We decided to start with Greencreek.
Not only was it right there, but we both knew their Weaver Millie to be a careful and reasonable thinker, not stuck fast in what had come before. And besides, the folks of Greencreek had just finished watching Michael’s Festival. I figured that probably left them all remembering back real fond on Festivals of old, and most ’specially on Gabriel.