Evan Burl and the Falling

by Justin Blaney

  I wasn't sure what the name of the other prisoner was, but what did it matter? He chose to commit a crime at the wrong time of year, and now he was a Jura—selected for the festival through the last two crimes committed inside the city's boundaries. Any crime, no matter how small, made one eligible for execution.

  I hadn't given the Juras much thought until that moment, but it suddenly seemed strange that Hangus was one of them. What were the odds? She waited to see me for weeks, and then, just hours after I had been made Chancellor, she stole a loaf of bread from a street vendor? Now that she finally had my attention, I had the legal authority to execute her. One of life's little quirks no doubt—one that didn't go her way. Too bad for her.

  Then again, I wondered, what if it wasn't just bad luck? What if she wanted to become a Jura to get my attention—perhaps hoping I would be lenient because of the smallness of her crime? If so, it was a big risk. I didn't get where I was by being lenient.

  "Hag-nus, Hag-nus, Hag-nus," the crowd chanted.

  Obviously, they thought she didn't deserve death. And the more I thought about it, I sensed that some people were actually angry I had allowed her to be selected in the first place.

  What was the other one convicted of again? Murder I thought, but how could I be sure? Those things were so hard to keep track of. Technically it didn't matter anyway, I could choose whichever one of the two Juras I wanted. That was the law.

  "Hag-nus, Hag-nus, Hag-nus!" they yelled even louder.

  Honestly, I didn't want to kill either of them. Don't misunderstand me; I didn't dislike killing because of personal weakness. On the contrary, I prided myself on ruthless efficiency, following the letter of the law. Laws were good for people. Generally I found the more laws I imposed on the masses, the happier I was.

  The problem was, every time I killed someone I created a whole lot of work for myself. I had to hunt down every last brother and daughter and second cousin and kill, or adequately maim, every one of them in order to ensure myself a peaceful life, or at least a life that didn't require looking over my shoulder constantly.

  Sure, people don't bother you nearly as much when you're acting on behalf of the government, but still, slavery was my preferable form of punishment. For whatever reason, a family was always more understanding when you enslave one of their relatives as opposed to executing them—at least they don't have a tendency to come after you as much. Plus, you get the added benefits of free labor for a decade or so, however long it takes for the slaves to die.

  In this case though, the laws of El Qįr clearly called for capital punishment, and I was obliged to uphold the city's charter. I prided myself on acting within the law, whenever possible. Besides, the people had come to see a killing, and if they didn't get one, who knew what would happen. The last thing I wanted was to incite a rebellion, right before I revealed my grand vision for their future lives.

  If the people hated me enough, there was, after all, the chance they would revolt. Technically speaking, I could lose my chancellorship, causing me to lose a considerable investment and years of planning. Not that I would let that happen. But I would have to resort to revealing who I was—then a lot of people would get scared and try to escape. I didn't want anyone to escape. I wanted them to go into the grand pavilion, peacefully and in orderly fashion. That meant far less work for me. I saw no reason to provoke them.

  Which Jura was it going to be then? It was time to decide. I held the glass of wine over Hagnus's head and everyone began clicking their tongues, a playful sign of distaste. They thought I was just teasing them. It irritated me, but I decided to let them have their fun while they still could. I switched hands and held the glass over the man's head.

  "Hag-nus, Hag-nus, Hag-nus!" they all yelled, sure they would get what they wanted.

  So that would be my decision—keep the people happy. Free Hagnus and kill the man.

  I started to tip the glass over his head, but then stopped. Had I thought about it long enough? Was there some evidence I was missing? Should I really kill the man? It was infuriating. Why was I hesitating? These two cockroaches were nothing to me. I could choose whoever I wanted.

  I tipped the glass a little more and a bead of wine started to pool beneath the lip of the cup, but something kept me from dumping it all the way out.

  I realized something was wrong. Something inside was telling me not to let the women live.

  I looked at her, good and long. She stared back at me with cold, unblinking eyes. Through the gag, I detected a hint of a smile on her lips. A last act of bold defiance perhaps? Or was she that sure she was going to be let go, to get away with whatever crime she had committed. Her cocky gagged-smile piqued me, though her exact expression was hard to read in the dim morning light.

  Having never actually looked at her before, I realized she had a familiarity about her, like I had seen her before this moment. The thought made me nervous. Did she ask to see me because she knew me? And if she knew me, was she telling the people stories about me? Stories, though I enjoyed hearing some of the more colorful ones, had the potential to cause considerable work for myself. I tried to control which ones went public—especially when they hinted to sapience.

  From the look on her face, I didn't doubt she would do whatever she could to hurt me. Not that I was frightened. But she did have a fiery look about her, which I tended to find exciting in a woman. Except for the gag in her mouth, she might have been cursing at me at that very moment. I loved to hear a women curse me to my face. It made me want to strangle someone with my bare hands.

  Everyone was staring at me, impatient for my decision. They were wondering what was taking so long. Why hadn't I decided yet? I asked myself the same question.

  But the more I thought about her, the more her being a Jura didn't make sense. Two men had been chosen as Jura a full week earlier. No one committed any crimes that time of year because no one wanted to be chosen. Yet that woman got caught for petty theft just hours after I became Chancellor? Something was very wrong. It really did seem like she wanted to be chosen. But why?

  I had now paused so long that people in the crowd were starting to boo and slap their hands above their heads. They were giving me a warning. I was so preoccupied with Hagnus, the crowd's lack of respect didn't even register with me. They did not like that I was taking so long to make my decision. To them it was simple: the man had to die—he was dangerous and Hagnus was harmless. By appearances, it certainly seemed that way, but things were not always as they seemed.

  Then I finally saw it.

  How shortsighted I had been to not put it together earlier. She did become the Jura just to get my attention. She was desperate I notice her. That I grasp what she was. Her behavior was a pattern I'd seen before.

  Usually women like Hagnus hid from me, and it was my pleasure to hunt them down one by one. To wrap my invisible fingers around their necks while they slept. But sometimes, when they were especially foolish, they would come looking for help.

  She had heard stories about me no doubt, but unfortunately for her, I reasoned that she had only heard the nice ones. She thought I could make her understand what was happening to her, maybe even cure her. She thought I was safe, but she was wrong.

  I filled my lungs with air, feeling the power radiating from her small frame seep into my pores. The hairs on my arm stood on end. My mind wasn't open to it before, but now I could feel her strength pulsing out as clear as a full moon on a cloudless night.

  Little Hagnus wasn't as harmless as she seemed.

  She was like me. She was a sapient.

  What she didn't know was, I killed sapients—extraordinarily rare creatures I only came across once every decade or so—allowing them to live was against policy. I had made a vow.

  The people were booing even louder now.

  "Let her go!" several people shouted.

  "It ain't right."

  Ah yes, the people. I had forgotten all about them.

  They were putting me on notice; t
hey wouldn't be happy if I didn't go along with their wishes. Their thoughtless berating put me on edge, my vow seeming less and less pertinent with every jeer. Perhaps I could stand to lose a few of them to escape after all. I was beginning to want to make an example of a few of them, just for the pleasure of it.

  "Let her go, you murderer!" someone in the front of the crowds yelled, and more joined in.

  I widened my stance, taking in the scene and considering my options. So they thought I was a murderer, did they? What fools they were. I never murdered anyone. Does a king murder a cockroach?

  No, what I did was for the public good—it was no different than when a government tears down someone's home in order to build a bridge or a road. A small number of people must give up certain liberties in order for a much larger number of people to have a better life. Didn't they see that?

  They were chanting now. More and more of them were yelling curses. I began to realize if I didn't let Hagnus go, revolt was nearly certain. I'd be forced to reveal what I was just to keep most of them from escaping. I'd have to herd them into the pavilion like frightened cows. It sounded like a lot of work.

  The rational choice was to execute the man and deal with Hagnus later. Quietly. I might have done exactly that, but the people had gone too far. I didn't like being told what to do. Not by Terillium. Not by anyone. But least of all these loathsome, vile, reprobates before me.

  I decided to leave the final decision up to the crowds. I would test them. Would they at last remember their place or would they force my hand?

  I could lead them to a better life; they would follow blissfully unaware of my true identity. But if they revolted against me, tried to take away Chancellorship, they would learn the truth—and with it receive the burden of knowledge that leads to death. Yes, many of them would die. But I would still have enough to run the machines. Nothing was going to keep me from finding Evan Burl.

  The sun passed from behind a cloud and lit me up like a torch as I crushed the 300 year old Summerend goblet in my hand. Wine burst out between my clenched fingers. It dripped from my hand to the dusty street below like egg yolk mixed with blood.

  Suddenly there was silence.

  I had destroyed their precious goblet. What fools they were; angry silence over destroying a cup. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

  Now that I had their attention, I grabbed the whole bottle from the servant behind me, broke the bottle's neck off and dumped the contents over both the Juras.

  "Kill them both!" I yelled, daring the crowd to defy me. I gripped the handrail, waiting for their response. They had pushed me so far I was practically begging them to give me a reason to break my vow, just one reason. It had been 22 years, 14 days since I last broke my vow. The pressure to break it was building like a volcano about to erupt inside of me. At this point there was almost no holding it back.

  I smiled.

  There was still a chance they would relent. The choice was still theirs. But I had a feeling I was about to have the most fun I had had in 22 years.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Evan

  Thursday

  9:29 am

  37 hours, 20 minutes until the Falling

  Someone was rubbing my arm. I tried to focus my eyes and eventually saw Yesler and Ballard standing over me. My head hurt like someone was jabbing knives into my temples. At the same time, it felt like there was some kind of haze swallowing me alive. It made everything sound like we were underwater.

  "You're doing it wrong," Ballard said. I don't know why, but he didn't speak much. Yet he was always more intelligent than he seemed from appearances. "You're supposed to put the gauze on the wound then use a pad that won't stick to it before putting on the wrapping."

  Terrible images and sounds shattered inside my head; remnants of nightmares from the restless sleep I had been subjected to for who knows how long. I pushed the images away, trying to focus my strength, to get the power to fight Ballard and Yesler off. I had to find Pearl. I had to see her body. But my body wasn't cooperating. From the way Ballard and Yesler were acting, they hadn't even noticed I was awake.

  My eyes were slit open enough to see the floor in blurry detail. A spider was watching me, about six inches from my head. It took a few steps towards me, then seemed to change it's mind and scurried off.

  I saw an enormous blurry shadow lean down over me. I thought it was the head of a giant asp, coming in for the kill. But I opened my eyes wider, blinking hard, and tried to concentrate. It was just Ballard. He was rubbing gauze on my arm, but Yesler shoved his arm out of the way and roughly finished wrapping me up.

  "Pity we have to clean it at all," Yesler said. "If there was an infection we could have just taken off the whole arm."

  Yesler lifted my head and poured something nasty into my mouth. I sputtered, but couldn't stop myself from swallowing. Instantly, everything around me began to swim, and their voices became even more faint. They must know I'm awake, but they weren't showing any signs of fear. The chemical that was stabbed into my neck was effective, they knew I couldn't do anything to them in the state I was in, sapient or not.

  I flexed my stomach, trying to sit up with everything I had, but I didn't even move an inch. The nightmares kept rising up through the cracks in the marble floor, like the hands of corpses trying to pull me down into the earth with them. I told myself over and over that it wasn't real. It was just my imagination.

  "You might want to be careful," Ballard said. "He could get mad at you."

  "I'm not afraid of Mazol."

  "Not Mazol." He pointed a huge finger at me. "Him."

  Yesler rose to his feet, as if disgusted with Ballard.

  "Look at him. He's a vegetable." As if to illustrate his point, Yesler kicked me hard in the gut. My body convulsed, but I couldn't even control myself enough to curl into a ball for protection. Yesler laughed. "See."

  "He's not going to be like that forever."

  "Mazol can take care of the gimp. We've got nothing to worry about, as long as you do as you're told."

  They began walking down the hall together and quickly faded out of my limited sight, but their voices carried on, echoing though the cavernous room. I was all alone again. Just me and the images in my mind. I didn't want to go back to sleep; I was so scared.

  "He's going to get an infection with the way you wrapped it," Ballard said.

  "What do I care?"

  It took everything I had just to keep breathing, but I pushed my hands against the floor. I had to get moving. There wasn't any time to waste. I had to stay awake.

  "I just think if you're going to do something, you should do it properly."

  "Waste of perfectly good gauze if you ask me. I could have bought me a nice shiny apple with the money we just wasted on him."

  Somehow I managed to lift my head off the cold marble, but the room tilted and swayed like it was floating in the ocean.

  "I don't think Mazol would like to know you've been putting Evan in danger of..."

  Ballard's voice faded, then my head hit the floor. The room spun twice, all the way around, before I let the nightmares take me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Cevo

  Thursday

  9:31 am

  37 hours, 18 minutes until the Falling

  When you tear a man into four pieces, it's sort of like pulling a wishbone. You never know which arm or leg the body will stay attached to. The people of El Qir were just as unpredictable. For now, they were staring up at me, stupidly, but quietly. It seemed, for the moment, that I wasn't going to get the opportunity to show them what happens when I get provoked after all.

  It was for the better, but I sighed at the missed opportunity. I was keyed up for a fight, and my cowardly opponent backed down before the first punch was thrown.

  "Get on with it," I said to my guards with a flip of my hand as I checked the time on my pocket-watch. Everything ought to be ready in the festival pavilion, the sooner I could get the crowds in there, the
better.

  The proconsul stared up at me, his shoulders were slumped.

  "I won't tell you again," I said.

  He glanced nervously at the crowd, then at me again.

  "Kill the man first if it makes you feel better about it," I said, slumping into my chair. That was better anyway, I reasoned. Who could predict how the crowd would react if something unexpected happened with Hagnus.

  The proconsul straightened his shoulders, then gave a sharp command and the guards tied the horses to the man's ropes. When they were all ready, the proconsul cracked his whip once.

  I was happy to find the horses were better trained than the guards; they didn't hesitate for a moment. Whinnying, they lurched forward and there was a low springy sound like the pluck of a bass note as the ropes went tight, followed by the gushing pop of the man meeting his end.

  Cleaning under my fingernails, I peered down at the man to see which appendage hung attached to his body. Ahh... so it was the right arm this time.

  Eagles swooped down to begin the meal they had been waiting for. Guards batted them away from the two legs lying in the dirt, but couldn't keep them from the hanging parts.

  "Now the girl," I said, scooting forward to the edge of my seat.

  The proconsul looked about as happy as a man with scorpions crawling in his pants. He kept glancing nervously at the people behind him as he and the guards tied Hagnus's ropes to the horses.

  "It ain't right!" someone from the crowd yelled out.

  "You can't do that," said another.

  "Ignore them," I said to my guards as I stood to my feet, my voice higher in pitch than I expected. "Do it now."

  The proconsul hesitated another half-second before cracking his whip. The ropes went tight. There was the same plucked-string-note as with the man. But there was no pop.

  Hagnus hung fully extended, eyes closed, body vibrating from the tension as four powerful Clydesdales heaved. The proconsul cracked his whip again and the guards slapped the draft horses as they neighed and reared on their hind legs, straining against the ropes. But Hagnus was still in one piece.