by B. K. Boes
Mae was in the cell next to his. He could hear her shuffling during the day, crying sometimes. A little crack in the back corner opened up a tiny hole between the two cells. For the third day in a row, Jabin sat next to the hole with no response.
“Mae?” he whispered. “Please talk to me.” He closed one eye and peered through the hole. He couldn’t see much, just Mae’s feet as she lay unmoving.
She had stopped talking to him when he’d told her about the letter to Oracle Lan. He thought it would bring her hope that help was coming, that help may already be in the city.
The last thing she’d said to him still rang in his ears.
“You never wanted this to work.” Mae had choked on the words, perhaps trying not to cry. “I trusted you, but you only played along, hoping my uncle would step in to stop me because you couldn’t.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Jabin had said. “I did want the woman to live. I am your friend, and I would have begged your uncle to allow you to seek Tamonn under his guidance.”
Silence had followed, and Jabin hadn’t gotten a word out of Mae since.
He tried one more time. “Mae, can you at least let me know you’re all right?” A shuffle in her cell made Jabin sit up straighter.
Mae cleared her throat, but her voice still sounded dry and strained. “I’m alive,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Which is more than anyone can say for Ramia.”
Jabin sighed. Mae hadn’t said anything about Lady Udam since they were arrested and brought to this horrid place.
Is she finally processing what happened? Finally allowing herself to grieve?
“Lady Udam made a decision to end her life,” Jabin said gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“So, you don’t think if we’d come here with my uncle she’d still be alive?” Mae asked.
“No one can know that,” Jabin said.
“Why did the Sustainer give me this vision when He knew I would screw it up completely?” Mae’s voice quivered, and Jabin heard her sniffle.
He wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knee. “The Sustainer holds out His hand to His people, but he doesn’t force them to take it. He reached out to Ramia through you. She made her choice.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Mae said.
“How can you say that?” Jabin asked, his voice breaking. “What about this was easy for me?”
Mae’s voice was quiet, as though the effort of speaking was almost too much for her to handle. “I just meant… your visions are so clear, so… perfect.”
“The clarity of my visions doesn’t mean every one of them results in salvation.” Jabin hugged his legs tighter to his chest. “I’ve seen so many people die. When everything goes the way it’s supposed to go, Oracle Lan reports it to me, lets me know someone was saved.” Jabin bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. “It’s the ones we never speak of again that plague me.”
He heard Mae scoot closer to the little hole. “You mean some of them still died? Like Ramia did?”
Every beat of Jabin’s heart felt like a hammer to the chest. He’d never said it out loud, but here and now, for Mae…
“Eleven,” he said. “I’ve failed eleven people.” Silence filled the cell, crushing him.
What does she think of me and my perfect visions now?
The rattling of chains cut through the thick, stale air.
“The jailor is here,” Mae said. “He’s unlocking the door.”
Jabin peered through the hole, trying to see.
“All right, little miss,” the jailor said. “You’re coming with me.”
Mae was silent; Jabin could see part of her face, the terror in her eyes. She was trembling.
“Don’t make me drag you out,” the jailor said.
Jabin smacked his hand against the wall. “You leave her alone!” he shouted.
“Shut it, kid.”
The thud of the jailor’s footsteps sent adrenaline rushing through Jabin’s veins. Mae looked at the hole. And then she was jerked away.
“No!” Mae screamed in terror. “No, leave me alone.”
“Hey!” Jabin scrambled to his feet and to the barred door. “Where are you taking her?”
Mae screamed again. “Jabin!”
“Stop!” Jabin rattled the bars. “Let her go. Where are you taking her?”
A heavy door slammed shut, and there was silence again. They’d already been questioned briefly. No one had believed a word of their story, the peacekeeper involved pushing them to confess to murdering Lady Udam. When they hadn’t given him what he wanted, the peacekeeper had given them over to the jailor.
“Mae!” Jabin shouted. Will they try to interrogate her separately? Force her to confess to something she didn’t do?
Hinges creaked somewhere down the hall, and footsteps fell like a steady drum. The jailor appeared before Jabin’s cell, this time unlocking his door.
“Where did you take her?” Jabin asked. “Where is Mae?”
The jailor shrugged. “All I know is it’s time for you both to stand trial,” he said. “We’re taking you to the High Court.”
Jabin swallowed a lump in his throat. The jailor didn’t have to pull Jabin out of the cell; he went willingly, hoping he and Mae were being transported in the same wagon. The jailor put shackles on Jabin’s wrists, leading him out of the building by a short chain.
A caged wagon stood nearby, and inside it, Mae sat shackled and locked to a bar running down the center of the cage. As Jabin was shoved inside and shackled to the same bar, Mae slid her bound hands toward him, scooting closer.
Jabin settled on the hard bench, his arms uncomfortably extended, hanging from where the shackles hooked to the bar. Mae cowered next to him. Her beautiful chestnut brown hair, usually tied neatly in a braid, was knotted and stringy. Her hazel eyes, ever changing shades so slightly, were a dull brown and the skin around them was puffy and red. Her tunic was soiled from lying in dirt for seven days, and her perfect skin was smudged with black streaks from the dirty jail cell floor.
If she — the most beautiful person he’d ever seen — looked like that, he didn’t want to face his own image in a mirror. In the daylight, he could see his own clothing was as bad as Mae’s. His eyes burned as they adjusted to the sun again.
The wagon jerked to a start, and they were soon moving through the streets of Nomika.
“Where are they taking us?” Mae asked, her voice hoarse.
“To the High Court,” Jabin said. “Today we find out what’s to be done with us.”
Jabin and Mae were shuffled into the building through a small door at the back, much like the one reserved for the coming and going of hired hands. Jabin vaguely recognized the area. He’d polished those door handles half a span ago. The guard opened the doors and motioned for them to step inside.
It was a small room with a platform at the front. An empty chair, cushioned and sturdy looking, stood at the center. A rectangular bar about chest-high was set into the floor before the chair. Three rows of five chairs were behind those. A few men sat in the rows of chairs, and a weight lifted when Jabin recognized one of them.
Oracle Lan turned to look as they walked into the room. He didn’t look happy, but at least he was there. The guard took Jabin and Mae up to the bar and secured their shackles to it. There was barely enough room for them to stand beside each other.
“I guess it was a good thing you sent that note,” Mae whispered. “I’m sorry, Jabin. I’m sorry for getting us into this mess.”
“We got into this mess together,” Jabin said.
A door to the left of the platform opened, and a man in black robes stepped through. Jabin’s eyes grew wide. It was the same man who had locked Lady Udam in his room the day she killed herself.
Ramia’s father-in-law?
Another man dressed in the gray robes of an advocate stepped out behind the judge, and behind him came someone unexpected.
“Father?” Jabin asked.
Abner Yllin held up a hand and shook his head once as if to say, Not now.
Another judge in black robes stepped out of the side room, and he addressed the guard. “Take the shackles off,” he said. “An agreement has been reached.”
“What?” Mae’s voice was barely audible.
Oracle Lan stood from his seat and came to stand beside Mae. “It’s all right, Mae,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”
Jabin was just as surprised as Mae. As the shackles were undone, he rubbed his wrists. “What is going on, Father?”
Abner’s lips were a firm line, his complexion red. A vein bulged at his temple. “With the witness of Oracle Lan and the note left by Lady Udam, it’s been determined you were not at fault for the lady’s death.”
Jabin breathed a sigh of relief.
“I am Lord Tannen Udam, one of the king’s Justices,” Ramia’s father-in-law interjected, bringing out a thick roll of paper. “You will both sign this, and we will all go on our way like none of this ever happened.”
“What does that mean?” Mae asked, her eyes narrowed at Lord Udam.
“It means,” said the second judge, “that the parties involved have come to an arrangement. Lord Udam’s family will not seek further investigation to prove the accusation that you were involved in Lady Ramia Udam’s death if the two of you and your guardians sign this agreement. It simply states that you are never to discuss the details of the situation with anyone and that you never seek further investigation into the matter.”
“But… that man’s son murdered Ramia’s daughter. And she killed herself out of the fear of living with him again. He should be the one in shackles!” A bit of passion snuck its way back into Mae’s voice.
Lord Udam bristled in his judge’s robes and glared at Jabin’s father and Oracle Lan. “Is this going to be a problem? I can bury you all, not just these two troublemakers.” He stuck his nose in the air. “Everyone has secrets, and I know people who are very good at finding them.”
Oracle Lan placed a hand on Mae’s shoulder. “She is headstrong, my lord, but she will sign the agreement and adhere to it.”
Mae straightened her shoulders. “I will n—”
Jabin winced as Oracle Lan clasped a hand over his niece’s mouth and whispered something in her ear. When he let go, her face fell and she said nothing.
“She will sign it,” Oracle Lan said again.
“Very well.” Lord Udam said.
The paper was laid out on a small table with quill and ink. Jabin took the quill, but hesitated. He looked to Mae, but she was in her own world. He could see the fire growing inside her. Clenched fists. Set jaw. Smoldering eyes.
“Sign it, son. Or we’ll never be able to get you out of here,” Abner said.
With trembling hand, Jabin signed his name. He threw Mae a pleading glance. The whole world felt like it might crush him at any moment if she didn’t sign. He prayed, desperately wanting for both of them to go home, for both of them to be safe.
Finally, Mae stepped up behind him and scribbled her name as well. Relief flooded Jabin’s body; all that was left was pure exhaustion. He reached out to Mae as a few tears slid down her reddened cheeks. But, she turned away from him and followed her uncle out of the chamber without another word.
The road home was long and uncomfortable. After a few scathing lectures from both Oracle Lan and Abner Yllin, no one said anything for days, except for small, meaningless chatter.
Will things ever be the same again after this?
They took a large riverboat south on the Chava River. Jabin stayed in a cabin with his father, who seemed more irritable than ever. Finally, Jabin couldn’t take it any longer. He and his father had lived in the unnerving understanding that things weren’t right between them since they left the city.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Jabin said into the tense silence as they lay ready for bed, Abner on a cot, and Jabin on the floor.
“Of course you didn’t,” Abner said. “Though what you expected to happen, I can’t imagine.”
“I expected to bring Mae home on that first day,” Jabin said.
“I don’t want you spending time with her anymore,” Abner said. “Gallivanting through Eikon with dangerous ideas, dragging you along, and getting you arrested. Damn the Other, Jabin. That girl is a bad influence. If she wasn’t Oracle Lan’s niece…”
Jabin sat up. “Father, I—”
Abner raised his voice enough for Jabin to shrink. “My first thought was to ban her from the Yllin Estate! But her uncle pointed out that his sanctuary and the land it sits on belongs to the church.” He sat up, gripping the edge of his cot. “I want to rip your head out of the clouds and stick it firmly on your shoulders. I may not be able to rid us of her completely, but you will not spend any more time with her. Do you understand?”
“I must see her at the sanctuary. How am I to avoid her there?” Jabin asked.
“Fine,” Abner said. “You may interact with her on the grounds of the sanctuary, but you are no longer to be friends. I would ban you from the sanctuary, too, if I could.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Jabin said. “I need Oracle Lan to make sense of my own visions so that others may act upon them.”
“Cursed visions,” Abner spat. “They’ve been nothing but trouble.”
“You know I can’t control them,” Jabin said. “You know I would live without them if I could.”
“I know!” Abner said, and then a little softer. “I said I wouldn’t keep you from the sanctuary. I know it helps you; I know this wasn’t Oracle Lan’s fault. But, this Mae… you must keep your distance.”
Jabin closed his eyes. I can’t do that.
Several minutes of silence passed, and Jabin hoped his father assumed his lack of response was an agreement. He stirred and sat up. “I need some air.”
He opened the door of their cramped cabin below deck and walked up the little stair into the night air. The riverboat was big enough to carry perhaps thirty people if several shared cabins below. He walked across the deck toward the railing and watched the trees go by.
“It’s a beautiful night.” Mae’s voice came from behind him.
Jabin closed his eyes. They hadn’t been alone since they were forced to sign the paper. He turned to look at her.
“Mae, I’m sorry about what happened. About the agreement.”
She hugged her middle as a cool breeze passed. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Are you going to be all right? Is Oracle Lan sending you back to Sozo?” Jabin asked, his heartbeat quickening at the prospect of losing her.
“No, he’s not,” Mae said. “He told me he only said that because he was mad, that he would never send me away.” She stepped forward to stand beside Jabin, one arm resting on the railing. “I think he feels at fault, though I’ve told him many times the fault lies on me alone.”
“The Sustainer had a lesson for all of us,” Jabin said. “I was at fault, too.”
“A lesson…” Mae looked up to the stars. “A hard lesson, to be sure, but yes… there was a lesson to be learned here.”
Jabin sighed in relief. She finally understands.
“The systems are broken,” Mae said. “There will be no justice for Lady Udam or her child. No one listened to us, neither before nor after her death. We gave the church a chance to help, and they did nothing. It’s up to us, up to our generation, to change things.”
“What?” Jabin ran his hand over his face, rubbing away the disbelief. “Mae, the systems may not be perfect, but that’s not the lesson we’ve been taught here.”
“Oh?” Mae raised her eyebrows. “And what exactly was I supposed to learn?”
“That our so-called broken systems have a place,” Jabin said, trying not to raise his voice.
Mae nodded once. “They do; in that I was wrong. Processes and systems aren’t the enemy. It’s the people behind them.”
“Mae—”
“It’s not just what happened with us he
re, Jabin,” Mae said. “Though it has highlighted corruption in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Do you think the church has no power to bring justice to Lady Udam? Of course they do, if they tried. But they won’t. Even my own uncle, good man that he is, bowed to political power over what was right! You heard Lady Udam. No one would help her, but she should have had the church.”
Lady Udam’s words rang in Jabin’s mind, not for the first time: This is what you bring me, Oh Great Sustainer? After your oracles here turned me away?
Those words had struck Jabin’s heart, pained his soul. “I know,” he said. “You’re right about what happened with Lady Udam. But, lasting change isn’t made easily. No one listens to the rebel; they only label him a rebel and then reject everything he says. We can change things, but slowly, over time.” Jabin placed his hand over Mae’s.
“Perhaps there’s a way to do it faster than you think,” Mae said. “I can’t help but think that if I had been encouraged in my quest for Tamonn, if I’d had the support I needed, perhaps Lady Udam would still be alive. I’m going to train harder than I’ve ever done before. I’m going to become an Oracle, and I’m going to make things better.”
Jabin pulled back and grasped the railing, leaning against it with his head down. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again, Mae.”
“I’m not saying I didn’t make a mistake,” Mae said. “I shouldn’t have sought Tamonn, not with the systems the way they are now. But one day, I want Sozian oracles-in-training who believe in Tamonn to have the support I didn’t.” She shook her head. “There’s so much change that needs to take place, and I won’t stand idly by and watch.”
“I don’t think you’d ever be accused of that,” Jabin said, a half-smile forming on his lips. “Just… try not to get into too much trouble from now on?”
Mae hooked her arm in his and leaned against him. “Don’t worry about me,” Mae said. “I promise I won’t do anything quite so drastic from now on. I can’t change anything if I’m in prison.” Mae smiled. “Maybe that’s the real lesson here?”
Jabin shrugged. “Maybe so,” he said. He looked over his shoulder toward the stair that went below deck. “I’d better get back to my room. My father wouldn’t be too happy to find me here.”