by Kris Schnee
"Good." Ben stood and shook Dominic's hand. "We can get going soon."
* * *
A few days later, a whisper echoed through the labyrinthine Nether. Dominic looked up from copying the treatise "On the Slaying of Horses and Griffins". He asked a grim-faced Servant what it was this time. Was there another newcomer to welcome with brass stares?
"A trial!"
Dominic stood and stretched, flexing his left wrist. "That's Citizens' work. Anything worth watching?"
"That's just it," said the man. "They caught Healer Ben stealing."
Dominic's skin chilled. "He wouldn't have..." He trailed off, uncertain.
"You'd better come with me. So no one asks any questions about you."
Trials were held topside, in a stately courthouse run by women. By mothers, specifically, who according to doctrine had the strongest sense of bonds to other people. Even some of the building's guards were women. Dominic used to grin at the sight of them in heavy leather and plate like other Citizen soldiers. But this time, Servants were flooding in for more than idle curiosity's sake, and he was being pulled along with the current. Lots of masked faces in the crowd.
I'm Ben's known friend, he thought. I'm almost on trial myself! He should have watched Ben and the money situation more closely. Maybe Ben found some unexpected expense and panicked about how to counter it. He'd never known Ben to cheat anyone. There'd be some way to sort this problem out.
Some of Ben's other associates and friends gathered around Dominic like bees. "Is it true? Did he do it? Were you in on it?"
Dominic became less sure about the "almost". He said, "I don't even know exactly what 'it' is. I... It must be a misunderstanding. Ben had the finances worked out."
The court assembled. Dominic had gone to see an actual trial once, out of curiosity. He'd enjoyed it for the mental puzzle it presented. That time the case had been about a complex trade dispute, and the crowd was nothing like this. The Citizens here seemed eager, anticipating. Maybe the difference was the simplicity of the charge -- not some arcane and convoluted problem.
But Dominic suspected the real reason was, this time the defendant was a Servant. And the judge was a Bound, ordered in by her master and given a robe that was rarely worn.
Citizens managed their Bound peasants. Servants carried out justice against Citizens to keep them in line. When the honor of a Servant was itself in question, it was weighed by the supposedly "highest" caste, completing the logical cycle.
Ben got dragged in, wearing his mask. He called out to Dominic, "I didn't do it! Tell them!"
Dominic stared at him through his mask's eye-slit and tried to understand. "What happened? How did they even accuse you?"
"Silence!" said one of the guards.
According to the old woman who presented the State's case, Ben had been seen skulking around the Quartermaster's cluttered lair of barrels and sacks. Then, the ledger had come up short by a single gold guilder. The other Bound who was acting as Ben's unchosen advocate -- probably not even literate -- protested that this evidence hardly proved anything.
But there was more: the testimony of other Servants, one after another, talking about Ben's grand plans and his money worries. Dominic knew well that the scheme had changed repeatedly over the last few months.
The masked and unmasked faces were turning toward Dominic, now, and armed women came to make him stand and speak.
Dominic went through the same ritual questions as the others. Then: "Yes, I'm a friend of Ben."
The judge said, "You were the one he planned to take along? What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing! I mean, you've already heard it's a mission of inspection and training. He told me all about the plan."
The judge turned her cold gaze on him, making him feel glad for his mask. "All about it, you say. That would include the funding."
"No, not that. He was handling that. He just told me to gather a certain amount of money, and he'd take care of the rest." Wheels turned in his mind as he searched his memory for any sign of Ben's guilt or innocence. Ben could have done it, but he'd never cheated anyone. In fact, Ben had been more diligent than some other Servants they could name, who were always scheming to get the easiest jobs and never leave the comfort of the capital.
The State's advocate said, "It so happens that we only learned of this vanishing coin because the Servants' Quartermaster was diligent enough to conduct a preliminary audit early. The full check was meant to happen in five days' time. By the way, can you tell me when your friend was planning to leave?"
The blood drained from Dominic's hidden face. He tucked his hands into his sleeves. Ben was looking at him but his eyes were hidden. If Dominic simply said he wasn't sure, he could throw doubt on the case.
"I understand he is your friend," the advocate said, without pity.
"He had a shopping list," said Dominic. "Did you find it? Did you see what he bought?"
"Lowly Servant, I am asking the questions." In this place the legal fiction of the Servants' low status was more strongly observed.
Dominic stared at the elegant tile floor. His bond to Ben didn't justify withholding the truth, or putting himself under suspicion of a crime he didn't commit. He answered honestly. "Ben set a date... three days from now."
The audience hooted in triumph. Dominic said, "But I didn't see him do anything! I know he was working hard and saving money! Why would he take more?"
"There, there," said the judge. "Return to your seat, Servant."
Dominic did, but couldn't meet Ben's shadowed eyes.
The outcome seemed inevitable at that point, given the number of people who'd heard Ben complain about prices and the injustice of having to gather funds just to perform the State's work. Money seemed to be behind all the problems in the world, from the rebel village's plight to what was about to happen to Ben. Dominic raged without moving from his chair or speaking a word. Masks were useful for this sort of thing.
At last, the judge clapped, retreated to her office to think, then returned after a few agonizing minutes. "I have decided. Servant Ben, step forward! I have examined the facts, and in my belief... you are found guilty. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Tell them, Ben! Tell them about your wish to heal and protect people! Ask the Citizens about those jewels they wear; were those fairly earned? But none of that mattered. Ben was only a Servant, in theory the lowest kind of person, and could expect the harshest sort of justice.
Ben stood surrounded by foes. "I didn't steal so much as a copper coin. I was hanging around the Quartermaster's office because of my damned laundry!" He shook himself, obviously trying not to run away or fight. "I know you don't believe me. But the State doesn't need to keep track of every coin, every life, every stick and rock and blade of grass! I would go and do a world of good for the State if you'd just leave me alone to do it! Can't you do that now, and send me out to work magic and fight? I would risk my life willingly to do that. Send me to dangerous places; let me spend my life helping people!"
The judge said, "We could arrange such a lenient punishment for a Citizen, perhaps. And the penalty would definitely be lighter for an errant Bound. But you donned the mask."
The court began to take it up like a chant. "You took the mask! You took the mask!"
The judge clapped and silenced them. "To the burning-place with you. You are no longer of the Holy State, and without it you are nothing."
* * *
They didn't force Dominic to watch the execution. But to run away would have thrown suspicion on him, showering him with more scorn. Besides, he owed it to Ben to be there at the end. Dominic attended. Citizens cheered, and their branded faces were contorted with glee and hate. Hate against the very people who were there to aid and protect them! Even the city's Bound turned up to watch, and they looked like they were watching an animal being killed for sport.
A Bound in a dark robe tore off Ben's mask and then stripped him. He was insulted, humiliated, and then
tied to a post and burned alive. The crowd was bigger than the one for the man that Ben had executed, even though the target there had been a man who'd genuinely hurt people. But that one hadn't been a Servant.
Dominic ate nothing beforehand, so he wouldn't be sick inside his mask. Even so, the sight of people cheering Ben's painful death made him retch. And the smell...!
Afterward, he cast one look up at the Great Temple of the State on its lonely hill. Then he descended into the Nether and didn't emerge for weeks. There was work to do.
* * *
Dominic visited the Undercove district but turned away from the places where he used to relax with Ben and a few other friends. To one side of him the sea crashed over and over against the magical barrier, and to the other, the dry cliff remained a part of the capital's life. Up atop it sat the Throne By the Sea.
He sensed someone behind him, and turned to find Servant Jasper. Even with the standard robe and mask, the man stood out for his stillness as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Jasper said, "It's good to see you out and about. Did you find the answer to my riddle?"
Dominic was confused for a moment, then looked up at the Throne. "About why this is there? I don't know." He wanted to change the subject to the execution... but maybe they were related. "Maybe it's a sort of show. A magical spectacle to remind everyone of the State's power, like the sea barrier itself. We don't exactly need this district. It's a distraction."
Jasper nodded. Around the two of them, people flowed: Bound on errands for their masters, Citizens running the shops or on military business, and a few Servants. He said, "I think so. A distraction from what?"
"From serving the State. If literally all that anyone did throughout Baccata was work, they'd be unhappy. So... for people to relax here or stand admiring some feat of magic serves the State indirectly, if it keeps them happy." Dominic scowled behind his mask. "Public executions serve the same purpose."
"I'm sorry about your friend."
Dominic stared into the blank face of the man who'd recruited them. "Are you, really? Wasn't he expendable?"
"It was a waste. He had useful skills."
"I killed a man who'd developed a better version of Scribe's Aid. How many times has that happened, that we've executed people who might've taught us something useful?"
"A few times that I know of," Jasper said. "What will you do now?"
Dominic watched life in the capital go by as though nothing were wrong. There would be more Servants to replace the slain, after all. "Go back to my work."
"You should get out more. I travel most of the time, and it keeps me well informed." Jasper finally stirred, seeming to notice the traffic around them. "Shall we go somewhere private for a moment? I'll buy you a drink."
Dominic needed one. They went to a private cafe room where they could speak unmasked. Jasper rubbed his face; he looked sleep-deprived. "I believe that your friend was executed for trying to cause a change in policy. Framed by someone who considered him a troublemaker."
Dominic clenched his mug tighter. "Do you know something?"
"No. If I'd been at the capital, I might've acted. The fact is that since the State puts so much trust in the Servants as a caste, some individuals become more powerful than others. We can't eliminate the jockeying for power among the class."
Dominic cursed. "Does this happen often? Might I be murdered the first time I commit the sin of having an idea?"
"It's possible," Jasper admitted. "If you have a proposal like Ben's, try offering it at the temple. Then no one can accuse you of going outside proper channels."
"Is that what he died for, then? A breach of protocol? The State could have at least said so, openly."
"I think you've already answered that."
Dominic looked outside to the crashing waves. Had Ben died to entertain the masses, in some stupid decision to sacrifice someone who was becoming useful and important? He feared to say more. He might make some blasphemous statement that Jasper would have to report.
Dominic stood and stretched. "Thanks for listening."
* * *
He returned to the High Temple to leave a message for the Boundless One. The one-eyed, one-legged man who was tending the crystal today gave Dominic a few minutes alone in the courtyard while he, the secretary, busied himself in some back office.
Dominic knelt before the One. After the standard prayer he said, "Was Servant Ben wrong to intrude on the policies of the State? His ideas were good..." He faltered. "But of course that's Your business. That's all."
He stood to leave. On his way out, though, the secretary stopped him. "There's a reply."
He startled. The One didn't often answer petitions directly. He'd been hoping for a reply someday, in some form, but was largely just venting his worries.
Back in the courtyard, the gleaming crystal had words on it that were marked as just for him. Dominic: The occasional killing of a Servant preserves faith in our system. Ben was wrongly chosen for this role. His accusers will be dealt with; never fear.
Dominic paled at the open admission that Servants were victims of human sacrifice. Or... not exactly. The One might well mean that the discovery and punishment of crimes by Servants reassured the other castes that Servants weren't above the law. There was some justice and logic to that. Ben's death was part of a system that was basically just -- and the false accusers would be "dealt with" by a being of calm calculation.
He bowed, feeling a little reassured.
The secretary used a ritual phrase that erased the message Dominic had read, but then a second one appeared for him. I would have you travel northward in six weeks. Prepare. Visit the city of Torrin and if necessary, beyond. Examine our defenses. Meet the northern barbarians. Learn what you can from them. Return and report. Spread no rumors.
The secretary noted, "It's rare to be given such a direct assignment, and such an open-ended one."
Dominic read the message three times, then kowtowed again. The One had a plan for him to serve the State, and one showing great trust in him. This was an honor.
7. Edge of the Forest
Dominic dreamed of a plague overtaking the Holy State. Some drop of filth fell from the stars, and all the land turned sickly colors in a spreading wave of destruction. He woke up in a cold sweat. He was powerless to do anything about that; he wasn't half the healer Ben had been.
For the last week he'd been studying intently in the Nether. A payment arrived for him to the Quartermaster's account books, giving him plenty of resources to carry out his mission.
Quartermaster Barger's cat beckoned to him. The Nether's supply office was as ruthlessly cluttered as ever, tagged and sorted yet hard to move around in. Barger said, "I've been trying not to raise any rumors, but I'd like to know what you're up to."
"A trip to the north frontier," Dominic said. He wondered if Barger had knowingly been involved in Ben's death, but pushed the thought aside.
"Interesting. If it's you being sent -- and I do mean sent, not volunteering -- then something is up. Do you know what?"
Dominic shook his head. "I suppose you see the big picture of what all the Servants are doing."
"Right. And like ants, our little hive is sending feelers out in several directions. There's interest in the north and west lately. I have a little discretion to set missions and bounties myself, so I use what knowledge I've got to help station supplies where I think they'll be wanted. Is there anything special that you need?"
"More practice with the Waldic language," Dominic said.
To speak with foreigners at all was a rare thing. There was very little trade in the north and west, and Baccata didn't let people simply walk out to explore dangerous foreign lands. Contact was mostly in the form of war or the occasional diplomatic mission or grudging trade exchange. Dominic's new assignment really was an honor.
Barger said, "You'd be better off focusing on the westerners' Mithraic talk. The northerners worth talking to, either know some Baccatan or Mithraic themse
lves. The exceptions are just shaggy barbarians."
Dominic was surprised. The northwestern border land, where he'd be going, had some disorganized petty fiefdoms of the Waldic people, and would probably get conquered and absorbed at some point. "Why are those the more important people?"
"Because they're moving in, displacing the more backward people. They're the future of that area -- until we take it, of course."
"Why haven't we done that yet, if the locals are disorganized?"
Barger shrugged. "Your job to find out, I suppose."
Dominic shifted his language-learning focus. By the fourth week he was in a bit of a panic. There weren't any native foreign speakers to practice with, just an older Servant or two who'd been to the borderlands years ago. One of them humored him and had a few halting conversations down in the Nether, but the other was skeptical of the whole enterprise. "What do you need to go there for?"
"I was ordered not to spread rumors."
The Servant looked unhappy about being left out of the gossip. "Then let's talk. When I was last there I got confused by this phrase..."
* * *
On an early autumn morning Dominic set out to the north, by ship and then by horse. As he traveled he did some routine village-inspection work, but he couldn't stop to get deeply involved anywhere. He did make a visit to Seaflower, where he got a request to visit Citizen Hanse, the city guard chief.
They drank together and shared news. Hanse said after some fruitless probing, "If you can't tell me about your orders, I can tell you to be watchful. The northerners are our own forgotten kin, the stubborn ones who didn't come south to follow the One."
Dominic said, "I've always wondered about that. Our histories describe the Boundless One as a human hero who founded the nation and created the Seaflower and did other miracles. But they're vague on whether he found the Temple Island crystal, or created it, or became it."
Hanse laughed. "They don't share that even with Servants?"
"We have several contradictory books in our library. The truth is probably in there, but I haven't probed into theology deeply enough to know."