Shifting Isles Box Set

by G. R. Lyons

  The man's tirade cut off as Benash grabbed him by the throat and dragged him around, pushing him back through the crowd, undoing all the progress he'd made on his way home.

  “Heard that, did ya?” the man asked with a bitter laugh. “Should have known.”

  “Silence,” Benash barked, shaking the man and shoving him forward again. “You're under arrest.”

  The man shrugged and plodded along, not making any resistance. “What's one prison over another?”

  Benash stared at the back of the man's head, the words striking to the core of his mind, but he pushed them aside, concentrating on his duty.

  Dinner would be late, and he'd be getting a lot less sleep that night, but such disobedience could not be ignored. The Elders would have his flesh if they ever found out he'd ignored a blatant thought crime.

  The darkness of the forest swallowed them as their footsteps crunched down the dirt path, bringing Benash toward his temptation yet again.

  The two men were silent as they walked, their ears full of their footsteps and the leaves dancing on the breeze.

  Under the Mother's moonlight, the fork in the path was just barely visible. Benash made an effort not to hesitate at the spot, but he did feel a longing tension as they approached.

  The prisoner glanced over his shoulder at Benash, but he couldn't read the man's expression in the dark. He could just make out the slight nod the man made toward the fork as they passed it, and the question matched to the gesture left Benash trembling inside:

  “Haven't you ever just wanted to have a choice?”

  Benash's steps faltered, but he shoved the man forward and growled, “Silence!”

  They passed the fork, and made it to the prison without another word, but all the while, Benash couldn't get the man's question out of his head.

  Haven't you ever just wanted to have a choice?

  Chapter 6

  “WELL, TONIGHT'S your lucky night,” the night shift clerk informed Benash's new prisoner. “We have just one empty cell left. Seems it's got your name on it.”

  Benash turned away and rolled his eyes, stifling a yawn as he waited for the tedious entries to be recorded.

  Gods damn it all, he just wanted to get home and sleep.

  “Cavern two, sir,” the clerk said.

  Benash gave the clerk a curt nod and grabbed the prisoner, calling back over his shoulder, “Send a report to Vhais. Tell them we're full.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Stifling another yawn, Benash found the cavern and its last remaining empty cell, locked the man inside, and left as quickly as he could.

  It was past his usual hour for sleep by the time he got home, but thankfully his wives had managed to keep his dinner at least hot, if not flavorful. He scarfed down his meal, rushed through a shower, and collapsed into sleep.

  * * *

  STARTLED AWAKE, Benash fell out of bed.

  Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and rolled over onto his knees, thinking it couldn't possibly be fifth hour of morning already, but the massive presence of several other minds proved otherwise.

  Benash slumped down into the mandatory posture and squeezed his eyes shut. Even curled up on the floor, he felt dizzy, the intrusion of myriad voices playing havoc on his entire being as his mind still clung to slumber.

  By the time prayers ended, Benash was trembling all over just trying to regain a standing posture, let alone his mental alertness.

  He barely noticed what passed his lips for breakfast, yawning all the while he sat at the table, and had to concentrate heavily on his breathing and posture when he finally left the apartment, not wanting to be caught yawning or slumping over as he made his way through town.

  The brisk morning air helped revive him just enough that, when he reached the forest, old habits kicked in and he found himself jogging down the forest path as a matter of course. When he reached the fork, he slumped right down onto his backside and folded his arms across his knees, catching his breath while he toyed with temptation.

  Don't do it, Benash. You know you can't.

  I'm just catching my breath, he argued with himself. I'll get up in a minute.

  No, you're delaying, wanting to take that path, but you know you can't. There's too much risk.

  Benash hung his head, hearing the latest prisoner's words in his mind again. That simple declaration haunted him, repeating itself over and over as he fought desire to do what he wanted instead of what was required.

  Duty first, Benash, he begrudgingly told himself. Do your duty. Do your job. Obey the Elders and you'll get out of that damned place. Not much longer now. You can do it.

  With a heavy sigh, Benash stood, brushed off his trousers, and trudged down the left fork.

  * * *

  DESCENDING THE the main tunnel, Benash knew right away that something was wrong.

  “What in the gods' names is that smell?” he asked as he checked in with the day shift clerk.

  The clerk shrugged, and the other officers just arriving for duty all shook their heads. Benash wrinkled his nose in disgust and looked around, but couldn't imagine what might be causing the horrid odor that filled the main cavern.

  It grew worse as he let himself into the cell cavern over which he was in charge, and as he made his usual morning circuit, he found the source.

  “Gods be damned,” he muttered, and strode back to the cavern door. “Send for a cart,” he called through the bars. “We've got a dead one.”

  The clerk clamped one hand over his mouth while gesturing at a young officer to run off and complete the order. Benash unlocked the cavern door to let in another officer, then held his breath while the two of them went to the cell that held the man who'd been increasingly ill and feverish over the last several days.

  The body was stone still when they checked it, and so emaciated that it required little effort for the two of them to haul the dead prisoner up the tunnel and dump the body unceremoniously in the middle of the clearing.

  “Could just toss him into the forest there for the birds,” the officer joked.

  Benash narrowed his eyes. “The Elders want all bodies in the Pit, and so that's where he'll go.”

  The younger officer swallowed. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. The Elders are right.”

  They left the body lying grotesquely in the sunslight, returned below ground to make the necessary entries in the records book, then Benash had another officer hold his place for a few hours while he accompanied the body.

  His fellow officers grumbled and grimaced at being stuck down there with the residual smell, but Benash was not about to hand off the escort duty to someone else. Though, if his fellows had any idea what he was about to endure, they would have thanked him for taking the task upon himself.

  Benash returned outside, standing apart from the body and taking deep breaths of fresh, forest air while he waited for the cart to arrive. He turned his back to the guards on duty at the main gate and closed his eyes.

  The rustle of leaves on the breeze was a soothing lullaby as he stood there, absorbing the warm sunlight that seeped into his shoulders. He could have fallen asleep where he stood but for the presence of the guards behind him. Still, the thought was tempting as he lingered there, soaking up a few moments of ease before facing the long trek across town.

  And then the Pit.

  He'd been there once before, and did not in the least relish the idea of ever seeing it again, but as the arresting officer of the deceased, it was his duty to ensure the criminal legitimately reached his proper end. It was also a privilege of his rank that he could choose to escort the body himself rather than sending another officer in his place, but he knew that once he reached the Pit, he wouldn't feel very privileged.

  At least the walk back would be worth it: a few more minutes to breathe fresh air before returning underground.

  The young officer returned with a carter following closely behind, leading a donkey that pulled a long, narrow wooden box on wheels. The body was lifted onto th
e cart, left uncovered and exposed, and the carter turned around to head back out of the forest with hardly a word passed between the men involved.

  Benash saw the young officer locked back into the prison and making his way down the tunnel before he joined the carter on the path back through the trees.

  There was no conversation between Benash and the carter—none was needed, as they both knew precisely what they were about and where they were going—which left Benash free to clear his mind and focus on just putting one foot in front of the other, fighting exhaustion all the way.

  Taking the most direct route, they left the forest, crossed through one section of town, and left the paved streets again to follow a path that snaked alongside the mighty Pascatin River, walking with the flow of water as it made its way south toward the capitol and then beyond to the sea.

  The sea, Benash thought, shaking his head. Now there would be a sight.

  He'd heard rumors of it—a massive body of water that stretched far beyond a man's vision—but had never seen it himself.

  And he never would.

  Duty and routine, Benash. That is your lot in life. Duty and routine. Everything must be in order.

  Still, he wondered if the sight of endless water would be as awe-inspiring as he imagined.

  If only– No, stop right there. No more wishing. No more desire. Just do your duty and have done with it. You must get out of that prison. You must.

  At that moment, his tired mind was not inclined to argue, so Benash pushed his thoughts aside and kept his eyes on the path.

  The smell hit him before the grotesque view did as Benash and the carter crossed a rickety bridge over the river and approached the Pit. Benash pinched his nose and tried to breathe into the palm of his hand, and noticed with some surprise that the carter made no effort to protect himself from the disgusting stench.

  The Pit was larger than he remembered as he came to a stop alongside one edge. He meant to stand aside and just help the carter heave the body in without looking, but a morbid curiosity took over, and he glanced over the side.

  A massive hole in the ground held a heap of bodies in various stages of decay. Some had been freshly added to the pile, while others were openly rotting, being torn apart by vultures, and in some places were visible the charred bones of the bodies that had already been burned.

  He'd heard that once, a long time ago, people were buried in individual holes in the ground and then covered over to hide the decay, but the Elders had decided the most efficient method of dealing with the Isle's high mortality rate was to simply dump the bodies in one mass grave and burn them periodically.

  Benash was quite sure the Elders had never in fact seen the Pit for themselves—nor been subject to the smell.

  He grabbed the feet of the dead prisoner while the carter took the body by the shoulders, and together they swung it out over the Pit and let go, watching the stiff body land amongst the others with a sickening slap.

  I think I might be ill. Benash turned away, feeling the bile rise in his throat as the decaying flesh below shifted and squished under the weight and impact of the new occupant.

  Without a word, the carter turned the donkey around and went on his way, leaving Benash alone with a pile of forgotten dead.

  When the sound of the cart's wheels had faded to silence in the distance, Benash slowly turned around and glanced down at the Pit one last time.

  He tried to imagine himself there, just another dead body amongst untold, faceless hundreds.

  He shivered at the thought and hurried away.

  You must get out of that prison. You must.

  Chapter 7

  BENASH STIFLED a yawn as he emerged from the forest that night and joined the crowd moving through the city. He felt dead on his feet after all the walking he'd done that day, on top of his missed sleep from the night before, and found his eyes drooping as he concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other.

  He was two blocks from home when the crowd lurched to a stop at the sound of a scream.

  Groaning, Benash looked up and saw a woman come flying out of her apartment with her husband chasing after her. The man had blood trickling down the side of his face, his features twisted in rage as he tackled the woman to the crumbling pavement.

  The crowd watched, silent and impassive, as the man punched and kicked his wife and tossed her around, oblivious to her screams and pleas for mercy.

  The man roared as he landed kick after kick into her belly, hips, and back. The woman's screams faded to whimpers, and then to silence, but the man kept kicking until his strength was spent and he bent over, panting as he braced his hands on his knees.

  Benash rubbed his eyes and sighed as he pushed through the crowd and approached the man. The woman was utterly still, and her husband gave one more vicious kick that pushed her over onto her back, leaving what was left of her bloody face visible to the whole crowd. Then he straightened up, saw Benash come to a stop before him, and his face instantly sobered.

  The man cast his eyes respectfully at the ground as Benash studied him.

  “You know the Elders have decreed that our women are necessary tools to rebuild our population,” Benash told him, and the man nodded. “Would you care to explain to me why you did this?”

  “She tried to deny me her bed,” the man mumbled. “Four years of marriage and she's never yet had a child. I was just trying to do my duty, but she fought against me.”

  The crowd muttered all around them, and Benash shook his head. “Shameful. She ought to have known better.” He paused and looked down at the body, then back up at the man. “If that is the case, this was your right. Pray to the gods that you have better luck with any other wives you're given. For now, you'll need to get the body to the Pit.”

  The man grimaced but nodded, and Benash turned away, frowning at the crowd.

  “Don't you have homes to get to?” he asked in a low growl, and the crowd rapidly dispersed, clearly not wanting to give the Hawk any excuse to haul any of them to prison for loitering.

  Not that he had the energy for it.

  Benash glanced over his shoulder, saw the man grab the body by the wrists and drag it off the road, then continued home.

  He found a bowl of hot stew waiting for him at the table and just caught sight of a white skirt disappearing around the corner as he sat down. Benash heaved a sigh of relief as he dug into his meal, thankful that at least his wives were always obedient. That night, especially, he knew he didn't have the strength to mete out any punishment, not that he'd had to do so very often with Suned or Oneri.

  And as for the children—well, he never even saw the children, nor heard them, as his wives kept them blessedly out of his way, so there was no need to even concern himself with punishment in that direction.

  He went to bed early, thankful to finally be getting some rest, but a haunting voice filled his mind and prevented him from falling asleep.

  Haven't you ever just wanted to have a choice?

  Benash groaned and rolled over onto his side, squashing a pillow down over his head; though, of course, that couldn't drown out the memory of the question that haunted him.

  * * *

  THE PRISONERS were already at their usual ruckus by the time Benash arrived for his shift the next day.

  He dutifully took the left fork that morning, as usual, after only a slight hesitation, too tired and irritable to stop for long in the midst of the forest, but at least the forest had been peacefully quiet. The underground caverns, on the other hand, were bursting with a tangle of voices.

  Benash let the men run on until it got tedious and repetitive—there were only so many times one could hurl the same insults at someone before they became utterly stale—at which point he got up from his seat with a groan, strode across the cavern to the loudest of the prisoners, unlocked his cell, dragged the man out by the collar of his shirt, and gave him a sound beating while everyone else watched.

  Some cheered him on. More cursed him. M
any threw encouragement to the prisoner to fight back but, as usual, the man simply curled up on the ground and took every kick without lifting a finger in defense. When Benash decided the man had had enough, he dragged him back into his cell, locked the door, and returned to his post.

  For half an hour, the cavern was quiet except for the beaten man's groans, until it all started up again.

  Benash sighed and shook his head.

  * * *

  FIFTY MILES away, in the capitol city of Vhais, the Elders were in the midst of a daily Council session, their red robes a shocking contrast to the cavernous grey and white marble chamber.

  Elders Rethil, Tanlis, Soliminus, Shesinu, Carsot, and Gozden were equally spaced around the curve of the teardrop-shaped table, while Chairman Elder Moaba sat at the point—a council of men arranging themselves as the Creator and the Six lesser gods were usually depicted.

  The chamber was utterly silent, other than the faintly echoing sounds of shuffled paper or rustling fabric as the Elders shifted in their seats and handed around reports. To an outside observer, it looked like seven old men sitting around staring at one another and not saying a word.

  Yet this was where all matters regarding Tanas and its citizens were decided.

  All in favor of increasing the water tax from ten and three-quarters to fifteen and one-half percent? Chairman Elder Moaba asked, projecting the question strictly to his compeers.

  Aye, came the answer from six minds at once.

  Motion passed. The chairman nodded, jotting down a note and setting a page aside. New tax rate effective on the first of Soldis. Next order of business?

  A citizen in the Hallern district, Elder Carsot began, holding a sheet out in front of him, has filed a grievance. Point one: An officer forcibly took quarter in the man's apartment for the night.

  Mutters erupted around the table, and the chairman shook his head dismissively. Everyone knows that was deemed perfectly legal due to the vague wording of the old Constitution. What else?

  Point two: He claims the officer made use of one of his wives.