Old Green World

by Walter Basho

  There was a bitter laugh from the back of the crowd. Thomas looked up and saw a large, unfamiliar, one-eyed soldier, who had just finished grounding the catamaran. The soldier was almost as tall as Albert and wore a chain shirt of the darkest iron Thomas had ever seen. “How goes the progress? The progress is over. Baixa’s over.”

  Thomas approached him. “This sounds like dire news, I’m grieved to hear it. As I said, we’ve heard little.” He extended his hand. “We’ll help you however we can. I’m Thomas Newton, mayor and Lord Eden-town.”

  “Are you, now?” The soldier eyed his hand but did not take it. “Well, that makes everything fine then, doesn’t it? Most of us dead and picked apart in Baixa, but the mayor and Lord Eden-town is here now to fix it all.” He met Thomas’s gaze. “You can keep your help to yourself, mayor and Lord Eden-town.”

  Thomas, unsure how to react, turned back to Daniel Bohm. “What happened to you?”

  “All the Adepts,” Daniel said. “It happened here, too, didn’t it?”

  Thomas wanted to say “no.” He thought of his mother’s words and wanted to stick to facts. But in his heart he knew. “Yes. It happened here, too.”

  “When it happened, the Baixans turned on us. They overran the city.”

  “And they tore all the crippled Adepts, and all of you, all the mayors and lords, apart,” the one-eyed soldier said. “They killed them, or made them slaves. And the rest of us, the soldiers, they just killed. We tried to retreat, hundreds of us. When we escaped the city and reached the forest, we thought we’d survived.

  “But then we started the road to shore across the forest. Where we came up against the bear-wolves, and the great cats, and the bugs that bring fever, and the poisoned plants. We didn’t have an Adept to move trees or kill animals or heal us. The forest killed us better than the Baixans ever could. There were hundreds of us, and this is it. This is all that’s left.” The soldier looked again at Thomas. “So tell us how you’re going to help us, now.”

  “Stay here, with us. You need food and shelter, which we have. And we could use a militia in these dire times. We can survive here.”

  “Survive here? Yeah, maybe.” The one-eyed soldier spat on the ground. “I don’t feel like being your militia, boy. Being militia for Adepts and mayors hasn’t gotten me anything but grief. But maybe we’ll stay here and take food and shelter.” With that, he signaled to some of the other soldiers and began gathering their provisions. They hiked up toward the Castle.

  Thomas grabbed Daniel to talk. “Who is he?”

  “His name is Peter. He’s from the Green Island. He worked for the Adepts for a very long time, even before the war. They were killing people even before the war. He told us.”

  “Help me make him understand. We have to work together if we’re going to get through this.”

  “Thomas, listen,” Daniel said gravely. He had been two years ahead in school. Thomas remembered him being quiet, pretty average at school, good at archery, and kind to younger students. “If Peter tells you to do something, you should do it. Don’t get into conflict with him. He does horrible things. I’ve seen him do horrible things.” He looked nervously up the hill, to where the other troops were headed. “I have to go.”

  Thomas watched him begin trudging up the hill. He watched the soldiers continue to travel to and fro, taking up gear. He hoped to catch Peter alone, to talk things through with him, get him to listen to reason. But the man never returned.

  Thomas finally gave up and walked to the Castle himself. The soldiers had set up camp right in the middle of the square. They hadn’t discussed any of it with him, which struck him as utterly improper. But he had no idea what to do. He went back into the house to check on Cyd.

  + + +

  Peter came to the door the next day and knocked loudly.

  “We need food. Food, water, drink, somewhere to shit.”

  Thomas had decided the night before that he was going to try to do this peacefully. They were all traumatized by the war, he thought. Best to give them slack for a while. “We can give you some food from our stores. There is a latrine space behind the hospital, which people aren’t really using now.”

  “When do we get the food? We’re fucking hungry.”

  “I’ll have some men bring it right away. It may be an hour or two. It’s mostly raw ingredients. Do you have what you need to cook?”

  “We’ve been surviving in the wild for months. We can make do with the ‘raw ingredients.’”

  “Excellent,” Thomas said. “We’ll have to think through a long-term approach for feeding you all, but this will work for now.”

  “I don’t care about the long-term approach. As long as my belly is full.”

  “Again, I think this would be a great opportunity to work together. We can supply provisions, and we need a militia. Don’t feel like you need to decide that right away. Just a suggestion.”

  Peter glared at him. “We’ll wait for the food.” He walked away.

  + + +

  The militia’s tent city became a part of the square. At first, it was relatively quiet, as if military discipline still held sway. Over the weeks, though, the camp became louder and louder at night, with fights and drunken yelling. Thomas put the heavy shutters up on all the windows and fortified the doors. The people of Eden-town stopped going to the Castle at all.

  Winter came. Leaves and dirt accumulated in the alleyways of the city. They had stopped being cleaned weeks ago, with the sickness. Thomas noticed boats starting to leave from the port, until the only ones left on the docks were the soldier’s fleet, a few vessels unworthy of sea, some hangers-on. No one asked or notified the mayor about their departure. One morning, as Thomas walked along the shore picking up trash, he saw Geoffrey and Harald Pauli sailing out to sea in a dinghy, Harald bundled in blankets, Geoffrey shivering against the wind as he manned the tiller. Geoffrey had a bow bound to his back, and Thomas saw what surely was a sword. Geoffrey doesn’t know how to fight, Thomas thought. Harald saw Thomas and waved at him, and Thomas waved back.

  Thomas held on to his duties; he visited the bank regularly, even though no one came to make deposits or withdrawals. For a while, he still sent communications out to Over-town. The messages back from Over-town got shorter and shorter, the last being, “Much sickness in the town. We will send a proper message soon.” “All our love to Cynthia,” it said, although Thomas had written of her death to the Kelvins some time ago. Then the first messenger never came back, and then the second messenger never came back.

  One morning, on the way to the bank, he saw Peter coming into his path. “Where are you going, over there?” Peter asked. “What’s this?”

  “I’m just going to the bank to tend to accounts.”

  Peter spat and looked livid. “You don’t get it, do you? There is no more money. Stop wasting your time.”

  Thomas thought about walking on, but decided to discuss it. “The money belongs to other people, people in the town. I can’t just let everyone down.”

  “Leave it alone!” Peter pushed Thomas back; Thomas lost his footing and landed on his back. “You already let everyone down!” Peter shouted. “All of you did. Stop pretending that it’s still the same as it was. Get out of here and think about important matters. Like how you’re going to feed us.”

  Thomas wanted to fight, but he knew he would lose. He stood and brushed himself off as best he could. He tried to look directly into Peter’s face, but couldn’t. He stared at the ground and said, “All this—the bank, the town working together—it feeds you, don’t you realize that? If it falls apart, there goes your food, too.” He tried to say the last part with as much authority and threat as he could, but his voice was shaking.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want us dependent on you. You want us to behave and fight for you so that we stay fed. Maybe it works differently now. Maybe you feed us so we don’t kill you.” Peter’s voice was terribly calm. “You heard me, get the fuck out of here.”

&
nbsp; Thomas went home. Anya asked him what happened, but he didn’t answer. He went to his office. He brooded for hours, thinking about how he could beat Peter. Maybe he could organize farmers into a militia, or starve him out. Maybe he could figure out a strategy to have the soldiers depose him. Or maybe he would just punch Peter in his stupid damn face. He fantasized about beating Peter to a pulp, chopping his head off. Then he cried a little, and then the shame of that made him cry more. Finally he left the office and walked to the kitchen.

  Mister Ewan and Anya were there, both sitting. They were eating some crusts of bread and a soup Ewan had made. “They raided the bank,” Anya said, keeping her eyes on her soup.

  He peeked out through a crack in the shutters. The doors and windows of the bank were broken through and through. Notes and pages of ledgers were strewn all around the square. They scurried about in the wind.

  Thomas stared at it. “That belonged to the people, to Eden-town. They ruined it.”

  Ewan put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Everyone knew the bank would go away sometime.” Ewan meant it as a comfort, and that made it worse. Thomas took a bowl of soup and took a long time to eat it.

  + + +

  There was a knock on the door the next morning. It was Daniel Bohm. “Thomas, we need more food. Can you send us more food?”

  “We’ve already given you months’ worth. What are you doing with all of it? Our stores are running out.”

  “Thomas, you need to give us whatever you can. It’s me and the other Eden-town guys that are keeping him from going berserk. He’s going to tear everything apart if you don’t send food.”

  Thomas stared at him. “I’ll send what I can. But this isn’t a free ride any more. If we starve, it’s not any better than getting torn apart. Tell Peter that we need to negotiate some sort of long-term arrangement if you all expect to keep eating.”

  “You can’t tell him that. There’s no way you can tell him that.”

  “I’m not going to,” Thomas said. “Because I’ve failed at that. But you haven’t. So you need to talk to him. Are you the Eden-town guys, or are you his mercenaries? Because this is about your town, too.”

  He took the glare Daniel returned and said, “I’m doing my part. I’ll send more food. You need to do your part, too.” He closed the door.

  He went to the kitchen and talked to Mister Ewan. “Ask Roger to send more of the food stores to the camp. Save a survival ration for the town. I’ll go down to market and start talking to the farmers. We’ll need to figure out how to restock in the spring. I think if we all stand together we can negotiate some peace with them.”

  “I’ll go to market,” Mister Ewan said, and then paused for a while. “I think it will go better that way.”

  Mister Ewan left. Anya came in a little while later. “Where’s Ewan?”

  “He went to market.”

  “Do you want me to make you some breakfast?”

  Thomas grimaced. “I can make my own breakfast. I’m good for something, you know that? I just . . .” He trailed off. “I can make my own breakfast.”

  Anya shrugged. “I was just asking.”

  Thomas waited. It was a long time. It was hours. Eventually, he figured he had to go out. He didn’t care who was concerned about that, and he didn’t care if he was going to get killed.

  There was a knock at the back door, Mister Ewan’s door. Thomas answered it.

  It was Daniel Bohm again. He was pale. “What’s happened?” Thomas asked.

  “The market. Peter took us there. To get food. He said to just take it. So we did, but some of the people said no. So they started killing people.” His voice broke, and tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t do anything.”

  Thomas began moving to grab his coat, his sword. “I need to go. I need to go and help.”

  “No, Thomas. No. They’ll kill you. As soon as any of them see you, they are going to kill you. You have to leave.”

  “Leave? While people are getting killed? And go where?”

  “I don’t know, Thomas. It doesn’t matter. You have to go away from here. They’ll come here next.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Thomas said, “I can’t just leave Mister Ewan. He was at market.”

  “They killed Mister Ewan.” Daniel paused for a long time, looking at something in his mind. “I watched them kill him.” He looked at Thomas again. “I have to go. You need to leave here. Please.” And with that he turned away.

  Thomas closed the door. He stood and stared. It was several moments before he realized he was staring at that place between the chopping block and the larder, where Mister Ewan would most often stand. He would stand there and talk to Thomas and Albert about school, or just watch them eat.

  Anya came in. “There is noise outside in the square. It isn’t good. We need to leave now.”

  “I’m not leaving!” Thomas said. “I’m the mayor of this town, and I have a responsibility. Even if I’m outnumbered, even if I’m going to get killed. That’s better than rolling over and letting this town die in chaos.”

  Anya gave a look of disgust. “And your daughter?” she said. “As soon as they kill you, they will kill me and your daughter. But that is good, right? Because at least we all died for the town. Even though there is no more town. It is already dying in chaos, and you don’t even see it. And you’re going to let us die because you are blind and proud. Is that responsible?”

  Thomas felt more rage at this moment than he had in any encounter with Peter, any moment of indignity with the soldiers. He thought, how dare she? And in that wave of indignation and self-absorption, he saw himself, too, and knew she was right. He deflated.

  “We need to pack. Only the most important things,” he said. “We’ll have to sneak down the side just past the bank, in the back. It’s hidden from the square and not too steep. And you’re right, we have to be fast.” He could hear the noise outside. It initially wasn’t as loud as he had expected. There was an occasional shout, which seemed to come from one voice. It wasn’t Peter’s. Then there was another voice shouting in response to the first, sporadically. Then a third that contributed as an accent. It was the sound of building rage.

  They packed, mostly for Cyd. Thomas got some things from the larder, in case they were without food for a while. He went to his mother’s library and got some books, one of important works and one with the town’s records. Anya came across him and hissed, “If you tarry, we are going to die.”

  “I will accept that the town is dying in chaos if you will accept that it may come back to life someday.” He shoved the books into his rucksack. He also packed his mother’s stylus, to remember her by.

  Just as they were leaving from the back door, the pounding started, loud, with shouting. There was a flicker of orange outside through the windows. Thomas looked at Cyd sleeping in Anya’s arms. She doesn’t cry, she’s amazing, he thought. It’s all I can do to keep from crying myself.

  The back way was clear, and they made it to the path down the hill. They could hear voices around the back door not long after they were out of sight.

  The path wasn’t as treacherous as the rocky side, but it was isolated enough to be out of sight. They had to pay close attention as they descended. At the bottom, they saw that the Castle was already in flames, fire licking out the windows.

  “Stop looking, it’s gone,” Anya said. “We go to the forest.”

  “No, I know a place,” Thomas said. “It’s a good place.”

  He led her west from the Castle. People stared from windows and doors toward the burning Castle, so it was hard to stay concealed. But Thomas knew how to sneak around.

  Once out of town, they went on for some time. “It’s a farm,” he said. “An empty farm where we can hide.”

  “The forest is better,” Anya said. “But this is close to the forest.”

  They passed the Planck farm and got to the Todorovs’. The militia stationed there had
cleared out not long after word of the victory in Terra Baixa, and it had been sitting empty ever since, with Mal Planck on a small retainer to keep it from falling apart. Mal seemed to be doing less maintenance under the current circumstances, but it was still livable.

  When they got there, Anya handed Cyd to Thomas and began tidying up a room for his daughter and locating fresh water. Cyd fussed a little on the transfer, then went to sleep again.

  “This is a good place,” Anya said. “They will find us eventually here, so we have to be ready to leave again. But it is good for now.” She and Cyd slept in the Todorov mothers’ room. Thomas stayed up for a while. He stood outside and stared at the sky, which glowed orange. The Castle must have been completely burning now, and the flames must have spread. He imagined the city burning. The sky glowed like all the world was burning around them.

  It didn’t seem real to him. The fear and despair and guilt burned through him. He was responsible for this. He was the mayor. He let the sensations wash over him for a while, and then suddenly he was able to let them go. It was less painful when he realized he didn’t have to be a mayor any more. He could just be himself. He felt free, guilty to feel that way, but free.

  Thomas took Albert’s old room, where he’d slept over countless times before. The pillow still smelled like Albert.

  The next day, they just hid. They sat in the house and kept everything closed up and quiet. Anya watched Thomas skeptically. “Just until things quiet down,” he said. Cyd cried a number of times. Cyd doesn’t have to worry about what’s responsible—it must be nice, he thought.

  There were noises outside throughout the day, the sound of many passersby. Thomas peeked out the window and murmured, incredulously, “They’re leaving. It’s their home, and they’re being run out. They’re leaving.”

  “They’re going to the forest,” Anya said. “That’s the right idea.”

  They waited through the day. Anya quietly sang some songs. Then Thomas taught Anya some lessons about particle physics, which she received much more positively than he could have possibly imagined.