by Shannon Page
When the guests had all arrived, and been given time to greet others before getting settled, the long ironwood horns were blown at last, toward the east and west, day’s rising and its setting. Great carved onyx bowls of incense were lit, and the islands’ dissonant, many-layered ritual music was sung with moving solemnity by a temple choir, as Pino’s richly carved teak and copper sarcophagus was borne into the center of the meadow and laid upon its flower-strewn bier before the shrine.
Het’s eulogy was focused on the impact one humble boat boy’s bravery and sacrifice could have on an entire nation. Though heartfelt, it was brief. Like most there, he had never met Pino, or even heard of him before that week. When his own remarks were finished, Het invited the Butchered God’s onetime priest forward to speak as well, to the quiet satisfaction or discomfort of the Factora’s extremely varied guests. The controversial young man had known Pino better than most in attendance there, after the boy’s parents and Sian, who had all declined to speak publicly. The former fugitive stepped onto the speaker’s platform, dressed in a clean, plain robe of white silk. He nodded his respect, first to Pino’s parents, then to the Factora and her son, and finally, Sian, then turned soberly to address the assembled gathering.
“Not quite a year ago, Pino came to me out of a crowd one day, like so many others, speaking of a hole he felt inside himself. A call, he said, a thirst, a vision, endlessly persistent, but never clear enough to name, much less to satisfy, though he claimed that it had been there all his life. I had heard such claims before. The sense of something missing, something imminent but elusive, was what drew all of us to the Butchered God. But Pino had what I can only call pure spirit. He seemed made of it entirely. And that was nothing I had ever seen before — or have seen since.
“There seemed no shadows in him. He did not envy those who had what he did not. He was not ruled by fear, or by ambition, or shame, or greed, or anger, or any of the darker things that shape and drive so many of us. He was honest to a fault, never defensive or more concerned for himself than for others. His one quiet but abiding passion was an endless search for the very light he seemed not to see burning inside himself, though so many others saw it there. When he could not find that light, he did little else but look for it. Whenever he found it, though, even for a moment, he threw himself into its service without hesitation or counting costs.” The young priest paused, seeming lost in some sudden, private reflection. “Even on the night he died, I doubt he was much afraid. I cannot know, of course, but I suspect that even as his boat was struck, his full attention was still fixed entirely upon the light he followed at that moment. For all I know, he may be following that light still.” He turned to Pino’s parents, at the Factora’s side. “I thank you for the love and wisdom it must have taken to nurture and permit such a pure, remarkable boy, such a singular life, such an example for each of us and for this nation, as so many of us look up and around at last to find and follow the light we had lost track of for so long. It has cost you more dearly than most to help make our world new. We are forever in your debt, and in your son’s.”
With that, the Butchered God’s enigmatic priest stepped back off the speaker’s platform and out of his ‘priesthood’ forever, Sian felt sure.
There was further pomp and ceremony after that, but Sian was rarely more than partially aware of it, lost now in recollection of that final night in Pino’s life. Her mind kept returning to his awkward little profession of love on Reikos’s behalf. For fear that Konstantin might not survive to tell her. She had thought him only young and somewhat foolish then, failing to see how selfless it had been to think of Reikos rather than himself at such a moment. Reikos had thought him reckless, but perhaps that too had just been purity in action. Oh, Pino. Why did this light you sought so earnestly not watch over you more carefully?
When the last words of ritual had been sounded, and Pino’s body committed to its solitary rest inside the crypt, and the long horns blown one more time — in all six of the sacred directions — Het came to take Pino’s parents aside and speak with them more privately. There were more explicit, if less public, expressions of thanks and concern to be conveyed, more tangible privileges and reassurances to be explained now, in compensation for all their son had done for the Factora, her heir, and the nation. It had been agreed that Het was best equipped to express all this to people so clearly overawed and discomfited by those of high station. Despite his own new title, Het knew how to put humble people at ease. He had always been, and would always be, one of them.
As the other guests began to mingle and dissipate, Sian and Reikos were invited to join Arian, Konrad, Lucia, Maronne, and Ennias for some light refreshment in a private section of the pavilion tent. Once there, however, conversation faltered. After hours of such gravity, neither further gravity nor frivolous small talk seemed quite … apropos. Sian was not the only one to glance at young Konrad, and look away again without speaking. He had returned to them such a strangely grave and quiet boy.
“So, a great deal of rebuilding now, I must assume,” Reikos said at last, breaking their awkward silence as perhaps only an outsider of sorts could be allowed to.
“Oh … well, yes,” said Arian. “We’ve already started with the most essential sites, of course: bridges, docks, marinas, businesses … But there will be much more, eventually. I intend to see the new Factorate House and Census Hall rebuilt of local materials, and in the architectural styles of Alizar, not those of the continent. It seems time the nation left its colonial past entirely behind.”
That foreign bride of his … Sian thought, as she and the others nodded their approval of her plan. How many times had she heard Escotte dismiss Arian that way? And yet, she doubted he would have approved this plan to abandon foreign pomp and make the nation’s architectural monuments truly Alizari. It seemed just, if ironic, that her dreadful cousin should end up exiled to the continent he had pretended to despise, while Viktor’s foreign bride should be here, leading Alizar into its own, at last.
“Unfortunately, we now require a new Census Taker too.” Arian sighed. “I dread the task of finding someone to fill that post. The office is supposed to be impartial, though that pretense has always been a farce. After all we’ve just been through, however, I think it really must be filled this time by someone Alizar’s people can genuinely trust to serve them first. Sadly, I am having trouble thinking of any candidate who quite answers that description.” She shook her head. “In the current atmosphere, I will be accused of political pandering anyway, no matter whom I choose.”
As Sian listened, the solution occurred to her with such force and clarity that she wondered if the Butchered God wasn’t in her mind again, still meddling in Alizar’s affairs after all. “My Lady Factora, if I may be so bold, I believe I may have someone to suggest.”
“Really?” Arian’s smile betrayed the slightest hint of wry amusement. “Are you interested in the job, my dear?”
“The gods forbid! No … I’m sure this will sound crazy, but … I think the Butchered God’s former priest would be perfect for the job, in more ways than may seem apparent.”
The astonished silence around her was embarrassingly profound. Only young Konrad appeared to watch her with something less than surprise on his grave face.
Wishing she had not promised to keep the priest’s tale secret, Sian saw no choice now but to soldier on. “I’ve come to know him somewhat better during these past few weeks. He is a far more educated man than anyone assumes, and clearly a forceful and effective organizer. It must have taken considerable political and logistical skill to lead a massive popular movement capable of bringing down Alizar’s whole economy, while managing to remain not only free of capture, but of any formal criminal charges.”
“All of which recommends him how?” Arian asked, not quite concealing her incredulity. “I cannot imagine any leading house supporting such a nomination.”
“They might not wish to,” Sian said, “but you can’t have forgotten that hug
e crowd assembled, peaceably, outside the Factorate. And neither will they. He has the unqualified support of Alizar’s people, my lady. Nearly all of them. I would be surprised to see any of the leading houses risk opposing such a massive bloc of popular opinion. Not overtly anyway. And no one could accuse you of political pandering. Allegations of allegiance between himself and any of the leading houses would be absurd.”
“For obvious reasons,” Arian all but laughed. “The Census Taker must be someone the houses can work with, at least. And he must bring something of more value to the post than mere charisma.”
“But I think he does,” Sian pressed. “Despite decades of angry resentment among Alizar’s workforce, the violence we’ve all just endured was inflicted by the country’s rulers in the end, not by its people. I believe this young man had a lot to do with that. I once heard him speak to a great crowd of his god’s followers, during which he very skillfully discouraged them from violent rebellion even as he encouraged them to abandon their employers. I have little doubt that he could lead them back to work as readily as anyone else can now, and without betraying them in any way. Surely that capacity alone would be of value to both the nation and its leading families.”
To Sian’s relief, Reikos finally broke the polite silence everyone had maintained through this awkward exchange. “My Lady Factora, I too heard the young man speak that night, and must admit to having found his insights both surprisingly wise and inspiring. And I know many of the common folk were heeding him … even when others were seeking violence. If I may be allowed to say so, I am in agreement with Sian’s assertions.”
Arian took a deep breath, and crossed her arms. “Does he have the slightest idea what the job entails? The Census Taker isn’t some religious leader; he’s a bureaucrat. The most important bureaucrat in Alizar.”
“I suspect he knows a great deal more about the post — and about Escotte Alkattha — than one might expect,” said Sian.
“Really.” Arian’s eyes narrowed. “And why might that be?”
“I … am not free to tell you,” Sian conceded. “He has entrusted me with certain confidences which I have promised to protect.”
“So you have reasons for this … surprising suggestion which you aren’t telling me. I thought as much.” Arian turned to Ennias. “Would you go find this priest for me, please, and ask if he would come to speak with us?”
“Of course, my lady.” Ennias turned and headed for the door.
“We’ll look for him too,” said Maronne, tugging at Lucia’s sleeve. “Three will find him faster than one.” They hastened after the commander.
“Then five will do better than that.” Reikos turned to Konrad. “Shall we help them hunt, young man?”
“Oh yes!” Konrad broke into a rare grin and quickly followed Reikos from the tent. Since regaining his health, he had latched on to the sea captain almost hungrily, demanding to know everything about all the foreign places he had never expected to live to see.
When everyone was gone, Arian turned to Sian. “I know you are no fool. But now that we are alone, can you truly offer me no clue of what these confidences are?”
She shook her head. “But I’m hoping he’ll agree to tell you.”
“Very well. Shall we have some tea then, while we await him?”
“Yes, please.”
They sat. Arian poured. They sipped. After a minute, Arian said, “Has your captain proposed marriage yet?”
Sian glanced over at her sharply, searching for the light of humor in her friend’s eyes. But Arian appeared quite serious. “Ah, it seems a bit … soon for that, I think.” Then she smiled. “I am still becoming accustomed to having him so much around.” She looked away. “And the divorce papers have only just been sent off to the Justiciary, of course.”
“Well, yes. I guess a proposal might seem rather hasty, then.” She smiled. “He is a good man. I am happy for you.”
“Thank you. Indeed he is.” Sian gazed down into her tea a minute. “I think we are all doing a great deal of rebuilding. It may take some time to understand the full shape of things, in this new world we’ve inherited.”
“Yes.” Now it was Arian’s turn to study her teacup. “I always imagined that I ran this country before, behind the scenes. And that I worked twice as hard to do so, having to hide behind paint and courtesies and subtle influence and intrigue.” She gave a quiet snort of laughter. “But now … Now that it’s just me, it’s … no easier at all.”
“I understand,” Sian said, and she did. Monde & Kattë was a textile firm, not a nation; but without Arouf here to manage the daily operations, Sian was discovering all manner of unsuspected gaps in her own knowledge. “But you’ll do fine,” she told Arian. “You’re strong, you’re wise — and you’re honest. Alizar trusts you.”
Arian smiled at her; Sian could see the sadness in her eyes. “I hope their trust is well placed.”
Sian reached over and patted her hand. “You might not always know the way through the tunnels, but you’re willing to admit when you make a mistake. I can’t think of a better quality in a leader.”
“We’ve learned a lot about ourselves, haven’t we. And what will you do now? You can’t just go back now either, can you?”
The doorway curtain rustled; Ennias poked his head in. “My Lady Factora? We’ve found him.”
“Good — send him in.”
Sian was happy not to have to answer such a question, as the young priest stepped inside the tent.
“Thank you very much for coming,” Arian said.
“Of course, My Lady Factora,” he replied cautiously.
“I have a rather odd question to ask you, I’m afraid,” Arian told the priest.
“I am not entirely unaccustomed to strange questions,” he replied, smiling slightly.
“Hm.” She smiled back. “How would you describe the Census Taker’s job, young man?”
“The … Census Taker’s job? … I am not certain I understand the question, my lady.”
“I’m just asking you to describe the Census Taker’s job to me — as you understand it.”
“In general?” he asked, clearly nonplussed, for all his wry assurances. “Or as it was done specifically by the previous Census Taker?”
“In general, please.”
“Well … In theory, I suppose, the Census Taker exists to manage both the nation’s wealth and much of its electoral process.”
Arian’s brows climbed slightly. “Elaborate, please?”
The priest’s brows climbed a bit as well. “The Census Taker is a national power broker, my lady. His office, as I understand it, is responsible for collecting and reporting all manner of census data, on which countless decisions are based in regard to the implementation and regulation of public elections and referendums, and the allocation of national funds, public or private, in response to identified needs. Not that our most recent Census Taker ever did these jobs very well or honestly, from what I have observed. Is that … sufficient?”
“I told you,” Sian murmured.
The priest glanced at Sian, then back at Arian. “At the risk of seeming forward, My Lady Factora, may I ask why I am being given this exam?”
“Well,” said Arian, “I wished to learn whether you knew anything about the job before bothering to decide whether or not I should consider offering it to you.”
The priest’s brows climbed a few more notches. “To … me?”
“I have made no such decision yet,” she added, “but I confess to wondering how a largely self-made religious leader has come to understand such a subject so … concisely.”
The priest shrugged, looking more and more confused. “To be perhaps foolishly candid, my lady, and with all due respect to you and your late husband, of course, neither I nor the god I served were … all that happy about how the nation was being run. It is difficult to be so focused on the results of such poor governance without paying considerable attention to … how the nation is being run. Does that seem so
strange?”
“Only its unvarnished frankness,” Arian replied. “Of which I approve. My cousin tells me there’s a tale which I ought to hear, but which she is not free to tell me. Might I persuade you to trust me with it?”
“What tale is that?” The young man directed a bruised look at Sian.
“I have told her nothing,” Sian assured him. “But I wish you would. Please?”
“Young man,” said Arian, “I am in desperate need of a new Census Taker, one nothing like the last one. My cousin seems to think you may be that man, but I have just watched my life, and the life of this whole nation, disastrously undone by layers of deception. I cannot even think of considering you for such a post while knowing there are things of significance being hidden from me.”
“My lady …” He shook his head, seeming dazed. “While I am … honored, I suppose, by your consideration, the very idea … seems … I’m sorry, but this is absurd! I’d sooner be a temple priest than Alizar’s top bureaucrat.”
“A man I trusted told me once that it costs us everything to make the world new,” Sian replied defiantly. “You could make the Census Taker’s office new. You could change the politics of Alizar forever. You just praised Pino for being unafraid.”
He looked at her as if she’d stabbed him.
“I can think of few things I would like more than to see the Census Taker’s job done as it should be, rather than as it has been,” Arian said quietly. “But you have still not answered my question, sir. Why does the thought of telling me your tale frighten you so badly?”
“Because the telling drags me back through all the pain I’ve ever known,” he told her raggedly. “And because … because it makes all I’ve been … all I’ve done … seem just another tale of revenge. Though it was not. I swear it. It was not.”
“Oh,” Sian whispered, seeing it at last. “Your whole life has been shaped by someone else’s lies,” she told him. “All those people who turned you and your family away. You kept telling them the truth, all those years, and yet, the lies prevailed. You still don’t trust anyone to believe you, do you. Not even me. Not even now.”