One final question remained, though: who was the servant woman who had helped the travelers, the Knights and the tiger, escape? That was something Doomba would dearly want to know, the first proof that the tiger’s protectors existed. They would be severely punished for having kept the identity of the tiger a secret from him for so long.
One of the gringroks slipped back into the throne room, wiping off some drool and gruelmoff blood, before it said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Apparently, the great creatures in the Pits have stopped working.”
“What?” Doomba said, swiveling his head around to glare at the beast.
“Yes, a Trolla came with the message. It didn’t want to see you, though.” The gringrok said, cowering back slightly.
“Insubordination, never have I tolerated such…” Doomba paused and frowned to himself. “The great creatures have stopped working, the flooding in the tunnel, the escape attempt, the stolen equipment and the disturbances…yes, something is going on down there, but maybe it’s not the Trollas who are to blame. Maybe one of the great creatures is causing the riot. We know how to punish them, though, don’t we?” Doomba asked.
“Right away, sire, I shall pass along the message.” The gringrok said, scurrying off.
Chapter 16: Cacophony Chaos
Confusion and disorder is a common thing to
Recognize in the chaos that is life. Recognizing
What to do in these situations, when the maelstorm
Can open up and swallow you whole, is another matter.
--A saying from Pinal
Hastin wandered through the park in front of the town council hall, unable to imagine how so many people could squeeze onto this plot of land, especially since it had been taken up by trees, bushes, benches, and even a clock tower. But they managed somehow, with only minor spillage out onto the street that surrounded what had once been the town square the children had fought over so many years ago. All of these witnesses, lumberjacks, farmers, mill workers, wives, husbands, shop owners, craftspeople, even a few members of the town militia, all of these people here to watch as the candidates running for mayor of Coe Baba stood up in front of them to give them great soaring speeches on why they should vote for this particular person.
Hastin didn’t know if it was some kind of spell, a delusion to make them believe these candidates could make some kind of difference in their lives as mayor of Coe Baba, or if it was just some form of distraction from their ordinary lives to see these individuals competing against each other, perhaps with a little bloodletting involved. Whatever it was, Hastin thought it was working, with its effect on the crowd. These people were intrigued and caught up in the action, perhaps even thinking that what these candidates offered them was real. But it wasn’t real, it could never be real. No mayor in the history of Coe Baba had ever made a difference as far as he was aware of. As far as he knew, there was no chance that any mayor could cause any real change in the lives of these people.
Now his father Baron Augwys had some real power over the townspeople here in Coe Baba, being able to enforce laws, levy taxes, and officiate over civil ceremonies. He could cause some serious, drastic changes if he so wished, though he hardly ever did. People here had trouble acknowledging the baron’s power over them, hating and fearing the possibility that he might exercise his power over them. Thus, Baron Augwys restrained himself as much as possible, knowing that they might turn on him and on the government of Arria if he went beyond the bonds of acceptable behavior, taxing them too strongly or being too strict in enforcement.
Hastin hated the fact that his own father, who was technically the most powerful authority figure in town, had to bow down to the whims and expectations of the townspeople, and relinquish some of his power to them. But even Hastin had to acknowledge that the baron’s power would mean nothing here, if people did not accept him, and so Hastin had to accept the fact that the townspeople had the right to pick a mayoral candidate to represent them, and the baron had the right to stay out of this mayoral election, if he so chose. Thus, Hastin was here to witness the mayoral debate, and take the temperature of public opinion on his own, while his father had decided to stay at home, not wanting to be seen as favoring one candidate over another, which he might since one of those candidates was Lapo, his friend and business partner.
There was also no chance that Hastin would ever run for mayor. For one thing, he didn’t have to, when he was at least guaranteed some security in life as one of Baron Augwys’s sons. This meant that he had a certain amount of freedom in his life to decide what he wanted to do with it. He didn’t feel like parading himself about, degrading himself and his candidacy, and lying to people just for the chance to get a powerless position of authority when he already had one, thank you very much. He didn’t know what he wanted out of life, or what he would do with his life, but at least he didn’t have to stand up and make speeches about what he believed in, or what he could do to improve other people’s lots in life. He was comfortable with his lot in life, thank you very much, and he didn’t need to improve his own, or anyone else’s.
For another thing, he had already embarrassed himself once or twice trying to take a stand for what he believed in, and degrade Basha and Oaka in the process, and what had that led to in the end? His sister hated him, his father berated him, the townspeople distrusted him, Sir Nickleby had quit the town militia because of him and Jawen did not love him. What did that amount to? He had lost the popularity contest. Hastin had a lot of people turned against him, and no certainty that he would ever find success currying their favor. At this rate, he would never be able to satisfy anybody but himself, and even then he didn’t feel very satisfied. He had to find something that would bring him peace, and maybe win again the hearts and minds of the people who had turned against him. The position of mayor of Coe Baba didn’t have the strength necessary to win back people’s affections. He wondered where Jawen was.
“If I were elected mayor of Coe Baba,” Lapo said, standing up in front of the crowd on the stage erected for this event, “This town would enter a new age of peace and prosperity, one it has never encountered before.” He said, stridently sweeping his hand out across in front of him. “We must turn our backs on the past, and forget everything that has happened before. We must look forward to a new era of progress.” He said, raising his voice with a few whoops from the crowd. “It’s time for a change. People deserve better than to receive the messes their ancestors have left behind for them.” He held for applause. His wife Mawen sat behind him, clapping her hands giddily with Tuki and Annalise sitting next to her. Their other children, meanwhile, wandered around, loose amidst the spectators.
Hastin walked away from the crowd, and paused as he spotted two boys in an alleyway near the post office, fighting against each other with practice wooden swords. He recognized the two boys, and recalled their names. “Fence? Rajar?” He called Jawen’s two younger brothers.
Fence and Rajar stopped fighting, and turned around. “Hello, Hastin,” Rajar said, coming over with his older brother. “How are you today?” He asked.
“Fine.” Hastin said, turning back towards the crowd. “Sounds like your father might have a chance to become mayor.”
“Ugh.” Fence said, tilting his head back and then shaking it forward.
“What’s the matter, Fence?” Hastin asked.
“Fence is very upset today.” Rajar said.
“It’s all right if he becomes mayor, I suppose,” Fence said, “But what I would really like is for someone to replace Sir Nickleby as head of the town militia.”
“We can’t get anybody.” Rajar remarked.
“No one has stepped forward to claim that post ever since Sir Nickleby left with Basha and Oaka,” Fence rolled his eyes and grimaced, “And no one will train me or the other 12-year-olds until somebody else does.”
“We can’t get any training if no one will teach us!” Rajar cried, throwing his hands up.
“Rajar, stop repeating me.” Fence mu
ttered, lightly punching his younger brother.
“It’s the truth.” Rajar said, rubbing his arm.
“Surely there are some men in the town militia who are willing to train you and the other 12-year-old boys?” Hastin asked Fence.
“They say they are too busy, training themselves and maintaining the patrols without Sir Nickleby around to help.” Fence said. “Sir Nickleby did most of the training, after all, as he had the most experience and was the best teacher.”
“We can’t get anybody like Sir Nickleby. No one could teach us like Sir Nickleby could.” Rajar said, looking down.
Hastin hesitated, looking around for a moment as if he wondered if someone else would step forward, if someone else was willing to take a chance, but no one else would, it was just him, Rajar, and Fence here. “Fence, first of all…may I borrow your sword for a moment, Rajar?” He asked, holding out his hand to the younger brother.
Rajar hesitated a moment and then handed over his wooden practice sword. “What are you going to do with it?” He asked.
“Teach you both something. Now, when you’re in first position, you hold your sword up like this,” Hastin said, demonstrating this before he helped Fence and then Rajar imitate the same position.
“Excuse me,” Geda said, interrupting the applause that had spring forth with Lapo’s address, and stepped forward now to speak. “While my opponent is correct in saying we need a change, I do not think we can turn our backs on the past, and forget about everything our ancestors left behind for us. We must deal with their messes, deal with what they left behind for us, and change the world and ourselves in the process. We must face the mistakes and faults of the past to make a better world!” He said as the crowd roared. He still was not quite sure what he was doing, running for mayor of Coe Baba against Lapo like this, but he could not let the merchant win the mayoral election without a fight. He had been convinced by his wife, by the fact that Lapo was running, and by his friends at The Smiling Stallion inn to consider the possibility. At least the position for mayor did not require that the candidate had to have no previous criminal records to be in the running.
As the applause died down from his last speech, Geda cried, “We must forge a new future out of the past, and for that, I think we must correct the mistakes of the past. One of those mistakes, a fundamental one at that, was that we shut ourselves off, and lost connection with the world. I say that we should expand our connection to other communities, and welcome strangers to Coe Baba. I say that for my first act as mayor of Coe Baba, if elected, I will expand our town’s definition of what it means to be a citizen here so that people would feel welcome enough to stay and work here in Coe Baba for the rest of their lives,” Geda said as the crowd murmued amongst themselves.
“Come again, Geda?” Lapo asked.
“You heard me, Lapo, it’s time to open ourselves up,” Geda said, turning to face the merchant. “Coe Baba must not be shut out of the world, we must face and embrace the world,” He said, turning to the crowd. “Only then can we grow and prosper so that Coe Baba will become a great town, one that the rest of Arria can look up to.” He said. It was a little hard for them to swallow, after being taught to fear the world outside of Coe Baba for so long, but he hoped that he was right, and that he might be able to convince them.
He remembered the night after his arrest over eight years ago, after getting embroiled in a brawl with Lapo in which the merchant had gotten away clean, and he had sat alone in his jail cell underneath the courthouse, feeling sorry for himself, and angry at the merchant. Then he had heard two small voices calling, “Father. Father.” He had looked up at the window, and saw their faces peering in through the bars.
“Basha, Oaka, what are you two doing here?” He asked, embarrassed that they had to see him here like this, not exactly the best position to be in. “It’s past your bedtimes.”
“We’re not sleepy, we came to be here with you.” Oaka said, clutching the bars. “Mother knows we are here.” He added.
“Does she really?” Geda asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, she does,” Oaka insisted, a pretty good liar.
“I am sorry you wound up in there.” Basha said, lowering his head.
“It’s not your fault, Basha.” Geda sighed, shaking head, “Lapo is to blame here, and you boys, you make me so proud to be your father.” He said, smiling. “I am so sorry this had to happen.” The boys stayed by his window through most of the night, until he woke them up and told them to go back home.
He missed them, his boys Basha and Oaka, but he hoped that he was doing the right thing here, something that his family could be proud of. He wanted to make his wife happy, and honor the boys, and perhaps it was the right thing to do.
His wife Habala sat behind him, listening with quiet approval as she wondered if he was thinking of Basha in that moment. She hoped that Oaka and Basha would have liked what their father was saying then. After everything that had happened with Smidge and Brigga, (she shuddered to think about Smidge still, what Brigga had said about him and what she had done to him) it felt right to her that Geda should be running for mayor now, that this was their way of getting things back to normal, or as normal as they could be, and of finding a new way to go on through life. Her boys would live on through their actions.
After quitting his job at the Smiling Stallion inn, a job that he had maintained for over two decades, Smidge had managed to find work at the restaurant, which was always in need of part-time staff, especially for cleaning up tables and cooking. Smidge was given the task of managing the restaurant while most of the town was at the mayoral debate, a job that he had volunteered for most willingly, unable to stand watching Geda puff about for an hour or two againat Lapo.
It also gave him the chance to show that he had the ability to run this place single-handedly, and that he could be trusted with more responsibility. Geda hardly ever gave him the chance of managing the Smiling Stallion inn on his own, Smidge could count the number of times on his hand, and yet here he was, his first week at the job, and he was running this place. Of course, there were no customers to serve, and no one would come in here until the mayoral debate was over, and by then, he would be back to his regular job as wait staff and cook, replaced by the real owners of this restaurant. Just like at any other point in his miserable little life.
He rubbed his hand through his hair, or what remained of it after Habala had burned part of it off, grimacing to himself as he wondered if it would ever grow back again. Habala still had her powers, or so it seemed, despite years of disuse and distrusting them. Perhaps she should have burned him completely if she did not ever want him coming after her, Brigga, or Geda again. Smidge slammed a wooden box down onto a table, and was about to unload some new glasses, with the promise of cleaning up some broken shards down at the bottom, when he heard a horse whining in the distance, coming not from the direction of the town square, but from the direction of the street leading out of town.
Smidge immediately straightened up and ran out of the restaurant, knowing that it would be some strangers come from out of town, with everyone in the vicinity already forewarned about the mayoral debate taking place in the town square, and no one would have missed that, or been late to it, unless they had some important work to do. Smidge had a feeling that he might know what type of strangers these people were, or at least he hoped that they would be, since he had been waiting for any type of news from other Followers of Doomba since Basha and Oaka had left. He stopped and stared at the twenty or so men riding into Coe Baba, dressed in uniforms he recognized from descriptions of them. Soldiers from Coe Aela weren’t quite what he had been expecting, but they were good enough for him.
“Ho! I embrace the darkness!” He called, coming up towards them. He remembered the last Follower from out of town that he had encountered about a month ago, the farmer who had first strode into town singing ‘I embrace the darkness’, the watchword and greeting for other Followers of Doomba. Luckily, almost everybody i
n town had been gone then, to the militia tryouts, so that Smidge was the only one who heard him and could reply. The farmer should have been more careful about what he was singing. No wonder he had disappeared not that long afterwards, probably killed. In Coe Baba, with the Old Man watching, or so Smidge suspected, you had to be careful about what you said or did. Smidge had managed to survive for all of these years by keeping his head down, while other Followers and Servants of Doomba had been caught and killed by the Old Man and his accomplice, or accomplices. He had to have at least one.
Berevus had been one of the last standouts, a Follower who had also followed Smidge’s example, but Smidge could have sworn that something must have happened that night of the forest fire, and Berevus must have gotten caught in the act, which was unfortunate. Berevus had been one of his best friends, and one of the few Followers that he had truly trusted for years, as it was hard to make friends with other Followers, as prone as they were to mistrusting other people and occasionally stabbing them in the back to get ahead in the hierarchy of Followers. Smidge was, at times, unlike and like other Followers, for he did feel the need to suspect others of mistreating or misusing him in some form or fashion, and he did have a ruthless nature that could turn against anyone he felt was threatening him and his enterprise, but he still wanted to be trusted, loved, and liked well enough by those who called him a friend and family member, and so he tried to avoid upsetting or disturbing them too much.
At times, Smidge was reluctant to do or say anything that might jeopardize his position and his life here in Coe Baba, especially if it should ever come out that he was a Follower of Doomba, or if Habala could get hurt in any way by his actions. Of course, every now and again he took a risk, for the sake of proving that he was still a Follower of Doomba, and could be trusted to fulfill any task that fell his way. That meant sending the rats and the crows and the gruelmoff after Basha, or at least on Basha’s trail, so that it might seem as if he was helping them find the tiger of light, but nothing substantial was ever discovered in that regard, especially when the rats and the crows and the gruelmoff eventually vanished, probably killed by the Old Man.
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