“What do you mean?”
“You are a childless, Tacita. Medically altered so that you remain for ever a ten year old girl. Other women have no function other than to bear children. Those who refuse to accept what the Change tells them are classed as ‘Rejects’ or ‘street boys’, who spend their awful lives being pursued by each other until they meet a miserable end. The caster has become a place I do not recognise, with strange glass buildings in the centre and nothing but blank walls elsewhere.”
“You did not see the other side of the caster,” Tacita said.
“What other side?”
“The Leaders, the workers, the childless who are chosen to work in the Aula. These are the happy ones. The Change has been good for them.”
“But we did not see them. According to you they were all in that Palladium place celebrating – if that is what you can call it – some Festa or other. The creatures of the night scuttle about in the dark streets surrounding their glass palaces. Do you think that is right?”
“It is their choice. The Change decides the best future for all citizens. If you accept that – as most people do – then you will have a good life.”
“A good life? Destined to work in a lifeless administrative building, if you’re lucky. Otherwise destined to work as a slave to who knows who. I don’t call that a good life.”
“The child-bearers and the Leaders have a good quality of living.”
“I’m sure they do. Leaders always manage to live better than those they lead. They do nothing to deserve that life because all the work is done for them by you, the childless. The slaves of this world. Tell me, Tacita. If you believe that the world inside these walls is so good, why are you outside them? Here? With us?”
“Something inside me. Something here.” She placed her hand on my heart, then on her own. “It tells me that you believe that there may be a better world. I would like to know why you believe. I need to believe in something. That is all I know.”
I looked at her. Her sad, pale face, the dark eyes sunk above her prominent cheek bones. “I need to believe in something,” I said and repeated it. I looked down at my leg, now covered with red welts. “I need to bathe my leg. That is something I can believe.”
“We need to cross back over the river, my lady,” Eluned said quietly. She had been sitting listening to our conversation without saying a word.
“Yes,” I said. “I wish I had your belief, Eluned. Perhaps one day. Right, we shall cross in the same way that we did before, yes? Evening is fast drawing on. We’ll carry our clothes again.”
The three of us undressed and plunged into the river. It seemed strangely colder than before. And so we left behind Salopian Caster, my first experience of the world of the Change as it had become. In many ways it was as the Professors and Taid had suggested. Only worse.
PART FOUR
Deva Caster
Chapter 48
After much heated discussion, the following morning we set off in the direction of Deva Caster. I suppose I was the only one who wanted to go there, because the Archivum screen had said that was where Taid was sent. Tacita argued against it, since it was her home and she was more afraid of being caught there, when she should be still out on Guard duty, than she was of Salopian Caster. Eluned would follow wherever I decided to go. In the end it was sort of one and a half against one, so that was decided.
It took three days and nights until we came in sight of it. It lay on the banks of another broad, fast-flowing river, again completely surrounded by a high wall built of a red-coloured stone. It was much bigger than Salopian Caster and did not appear to have the steep hills of that place. From the hill side on which we sat the evening we arrived, we could make out the two main streets of the city, one of which ran from left to right, the other from our side to the other. There was one building visible outside the walls, on a shelf in a loop of the river. This was another glass structure, but much, much bigger than those in Salopian Caster.
This, Tacita informed us, was the palladium of this caster, called by its citizens ‘The Amphitheatrum’ as it was built in the same way that the Romans had built their places of entertainment.
“Do you mean ‘the old Romans’?” I asked her.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What do you mean, ‘the old Romans’?”
“They built Uricon,” I said. “And look what happened to that place.”
Tacita shook her head, missing my meaning.
As the evening drew on, lights came on in this huge building, and soon it shone out in the increasing darkness. Oval in shape, there was an empty area in the centre, surrounded by what looked like banks of glass benches which soared up, row upon row.
“It must be Concilium night,” Tacita said, just as a series of lights illuminated a road that ran from a gateway in the caster wall down to the Amphitheatrum. “Look.”
As she spoke the gates opened and a stream of people poured out. The first ones to emerge were all brightly dressed in colourful clothes, presumably the Leaders. They were followed by a group of women, many carrying small babies or children, others who looked pregnant, even from where we sat: the child-bearers. Then came a huge group of men, young and old, all dressed in the same grey one-piece outfit: the workers. These were followed by children that even I recognised as scholars, their faces bright and happy. Last came the childless, the first smaller group of which wore clean white or cream shifts, the rest were dressed in brown, many of their shifts in a serious state of disrepair.
The whole procession took nearly an hour to parade from the caster into the amphitheatrum. Once inside, they were again separated, the Leaders in their brightly coloured costumes clearly visible in a square section of the seating closest to the arena, all others in ranks up to the top where the poor brown-clad childless sat, buffeted by the wind, barely able to see what happened down below.
“Let’s move a little closer,” I said, heading down the hill side.
“What if someone sees us?” Tacita said, hesitating.
“Who? Everyone is inside the building. They are not likely to be looking up here, are they? All they would see is darkness. Come on. I want to see what happens.”
Reluctantly she followed, as Eluned and I moved down until we had a better view of the interior of the amphitheatrum. We found a dry patch of heather and flattened it to sit on. As we did so there was a blast of very loud music from somewhere deep inside. The murmurings of the crowd were at first drowned out but then ceased altogether.
“Is it starting?” I asked Tacita.
“Yes. The Quaestor will speak first.”
“The what?”
“The Quaestor. The Leader of the Leaders. The most important person in the caster. He has direct contact with the Apostles.”
“I see,” I said. Again, something new for me.
Although we were too far away to make him out, a voice began to boom across the arena. It was amplified to all the seats, but we could not distinguish what he was saying. He carried on for some time, a speech that sounded as if he was full of himself, with plenty of pauses that were followed by ripples of applause, and, occasionally, bursts of laughter. Finally, he stopped. Silence fell again.
“What happens now?” I said.
“The parade of those who will receive a Praemium.”
I looked at her, quizzically.
“A reward. I told you of this before. There are those who receive a reward, a Praemium, as we call them, and those who are punished. They receive what is called a Supplicium.”
“A punishment?”
She nodded. By this time the arena had begun to fill with people from the various levels of this society. There were no Leaders. I presumed they either received their rewards somewhere else, or they did not need such a form of encouragement. Soon the arena was filled to capacity. Obviously, this was a society that liked to reward its people. Once they were all there, it was possible to make out the gaps in the seating where they had come from. There were, I noti
ced sadly, no brown-clothed childless, possibly one or two white-clothed ones; very few child-bearers, though the ones I could make out were all carrying babies; a large group of scholars; but the vast majority wore the grey outfits of the male workers.
Silence fell once they were all in place. Another burst of loud music was followed by a different voice speaking. At this point the people in the arena seemed to start moving, and eventually I could make out that they were passing in front of the Leaders’ area, presumably receiving their Praemium before making their way out and back to their seats. As a result of this, the crowd slowly thinned out. After an absolute age, two white-clothed childless were all that was left, and both swiftly passed the Leaders and left.
Once they had gone the audience began to murmur again, this time louder than before. There was clearly an air of expectancy.
“Now the punishments?” I said to Tacita.
“Yes,” she answered. “I think from the noise they are expecting a Desolatio, or even an execution.”
“An execution?” I lowered my voice. “What? Here in this arena?”
“If there is to be an execution, it will take place in the centre of the arena. Yes.”
She did not appear to be in the least perturbed at this prospect. I remembered what she had said earlier about the anticipation there was when an execution was expected.
I was not keen to see this, but just as I was thinking of turning away, Eluned suddenly stood up.
“Oh, my lady,” she yelled. “Domina, salvete.” She was gesturing towards the top row of the amphitheatrum just in front of us. One of the brown-clothed childless had clearly stood up and, as we watched, helpless, she turned, looked in our direction, then fell forward, out of the building from its highest point. I closed my eyes, swallowing hard.
I fully expected some of her neighbours to react in some way, for someone to come out of the building and run to where she lay, crumpled on the ground far below. Nothing happened. There was no reaction whatsoever. Those who had minutes before sat near her slightly shuffled and the space where she had been had gone.
“Did you see that?” I grabbed Tacita’s arm, the only futile gesture I could make.
“Yes, I saw it,” she said, her voice calm. “She was probably due for punishment. It happens often with the childless. Better that way than execution.”
“Better that way!” I screamed. “To fall from that height? And no one takes a blind bit of notice?”
“She was a poor childless. Dressed in brown. She will not be missed.”
I was rendered speechless. Just as with the woman who had drowned herself in the river outside Salopian Caster, Tacita could simply shrug her shoulders and move on. The death of a childless was beyond meaningless. Tears came to my eyes. Eluned finally sat down beside me. She was also weeping. “This is indeed a terrible world, my lady. I am so sorry.”
The so-called ceremony moved on. Another blast of music was followed by a man’s voice reciting something. This was followed by a small group of four or five workers entering the arena. They were clearly reluctant to do so, but they slowly made their way to the spot before the Leaders. A female voice rang out. This time the word was quite clear. ‘Desolatio’. It was repeated five times. The workers prostrated themselves on the ground. A moment later, the same female voice announced, “Exeunt omnes” and the men slowly rose to their feet and left the arena.
“Do you know where they are going?” I asked Tacita, my voice edged with bitterness over her callous disregard for the death of the childless.
“They go to Desolatio.”
“I understand that. What I want to know is where is Desolatio?”
“Beyond the limits of the caster.” She waved her arm vaguely in one direction.
“Then we shall follow them,” I said, standing up.
“What? You cannot do that.”
“I can. And I will, Tacita. When do they leave? Now?”
“When the Concilium is completed. Not before. Why do you wish to follow them? I do not understand.”
“Taid – my grandfather – was sent to Desolatio outside this caster. If we can find out where that is, perhaps we may also find him. That is my sole purpose in being in this awful place.”
“That was hundreds of years ago. You cannot possibly expect to find him there now.” Another blast of music interrupted us. “It is time for the executions,” she said and turned to face the arena.
The murmuring ceased. This time, six women made their way into the arena, two child-bearers, neither of whom carried a child, and four childless, one in white, the rest in brown. The two who came last looked completely bedraggled, their heads down, their shifts torn to shreds.
“They are like the woman in Salopian Caster,” Tacita said. “They have hidden a child. Perhaps two. That is why there are two child-bearers. The other childless are probably their servants. Except for the one in white. She is an Aula childless. Perhaps she attempted to alter the records. I have known it happen before.”
“And for this they will be killed? Murdered?”
“Executed, Non. Not murdered. There is a difference. Watch. See what happens to those who transgress.”
The women lined up before the leaders. The same female voice rang out. In turn the women stepped forward. “Death by execution” the voice said to each one in turn. When she reached the last two wretches she announced in the same tones, “Death by double execution”. Could this get any worse, I thought. How on earth can you execute someone twice?
In the centre of the arena, a small metallic plinth rose up. The condemned women walked over to it. One by one, they stepped onto the plinth. As they did so, there was a blinding flash, followed by a sickening thud as the body, now totally incinerated, fell to the side. Of the first four women to suffer this fate, only one of the child-bearers managed a stifled scream. When the final two were left, the plinth disappeared back into the arena.
Despite myself, and much as I did not wish to see any more of this barbarism, I could not tear my eyes away from whatever horror was about to be inflicted. The plinth rose again, this time carrying what appeared to be two swords. The women took a sword each and feebly began to stab at each other. The crowd started to roar. As they did so, one of the women grabbed the other by the hair and tried to stab her. The sword was too long for her to succeed in this, and the second woman squirmed free and ran off to the side of the arena. There followed a pathetic chase as the two staggered around the arena, the crowd roaring them on. It would have been amusing were it not so tragic. Eventually one fell to the ground and the other ran up and raised her sword above her.
“Stop” the female voice announced. “One blow only.”
The woman lowered her sword and pushed it into the prone woman’s back. Then she threw the sword aside. The woman who had been stabbed now lifted herself up, with some difficulty, a dark stain spreading over her shift and her back, most of which was visible. When she was on her feet she took her sword and ran it through the first woman, who stood still while she did so, before falling back on to the floor.
“Enough” the voice commanded.
Both women, by some miracle, now helped each other to stand, before they staggered back to the plinth. In turn, they stepped on and were incinerated. Finally, six carcases lay in a heap beside the plinth as it disappeared below for the last time. The crowd ceased its roaring and was eerily silent.
I turned to Tacita. “This is barbaric,” I said. “Completely, utterly, totally barbaric.”
High The Vanes (The Change Book 2) Page 20