by Dennis Foon
“That may be, but to win this war we must put aside our personal antipathies and look to the goals we share. And if Governors deal with smugglers, so much the better. We’ll need one to help us get into the City.” Wolf glares at Roan stubbornly. Shifting his attention to Stinger, Roan asks pointedly, “Are there no Governors who might be sympathetic to our cause?”
Brother Stinger lets out a weary sigh. “There may be one. Selig.”
Wolf’s hand wraps around the handle of his sword. “The Brothers need no allies. The prophecy says we will fall upon the City in a Visitation like a cleansing wind.”
Roan raises his voice, to make sure Wolf understands the stakes. “Seventy-five Brothers? You would be slaughtered before you passed the gates. There will be no ‘cleansing wind.’ We will fight, Brother Wolf, but only when we have found a way to win with as little bloodshed as possible. And I need you to lead that attack because there is a second battlefield that must be won, where you cannot walk. If I lose that battle, all our efforts will be wasted. I cannot go there unprepared and there are precious few who can help me.”
“Are you saying you seek an alliance with those who eat Dirt?” The edge in Wolf’s voice is as threatening as his sword’s.
Lumpy steps bravely forward. “I would look to my own house before leveling accusations.”
Wolf, eyes flashing, glares at Lumpy. “You dare insult our Brotherhood?”
“We have reason to believe,” says Lumpy, standing his ground, “that Brother Asp was sent by the Dirt Eaters of Oasis to spy on Saint and Roan.”
“Impossible,” whispers Wolf.
“My warriors are with him now.” Ende’s voice is quiet, reasoning. “He is a Brother under your leadership and so, in deference, I ask your permission to search him and his quarters for Dirt. When we find it, you will know.”
“If you find it, he is dead,” Wolf hisses.
“No,” Roan interjects. “I want him alive. I do not mistake the Dirt Eaters for allies, Brother Wolf, but Asp may have useful information.”
Wolf, bristling, glances at Brother Stinger, who locks eyes with him and nods. Turning away, Wolf silently mulls over Roan’s order. After a moment, he shrugs his assent and Kira strides from the room.
Wolf squints, examining Roan with what seems a grudging respect. “You knew this when we arrived. That is why Asp is not here. How? How did you know?”
“Dirt has a scent which it leaves on those who eat it.”
“It is possible to smell a Dirt Eater?”
“Would that we all had Roan’s talent.” Ende catches Wolf’s eye and Roan observes the silent understanding between them. “But the Dirt Eaters have many spies who do not eat the Dirt; they will not be so easily detected. You will need to keep a watchful eye.”
Wolf bows as Kira arrives followed by four Apsara forming a circle around Asp. For a moment the air is electric with the possibility of violence. Dealing with Wolf will be like wrangling a wild horse.
Opening her hand, Kira loosens the ties on the pouch she’s holding and reveals the Dirt. Wolf snorts, angrily turning his head away. Stinger and the Apsara remain impassive, while Lumpy leans forward trying to get a better view.
Roan considers what he knows of Brother Asp. This was the man who healed any who came to him, who used Roan’s knowledge to detoxify large tracts of land, so hundreds, even thousands of people could grow healthy crops. And all the time he was a Dirt Eater, spying; spying and probably making sure the Brothers didn’t kill Roan. All the time lying. How is he going to distinguish Asp’s truth from his lies? He couldn’t then. I’ve grown, Roan thinks, I’ve changed. But will it be enough?
Ende steps forward. Cinching the pouch shut, she takes it from Kira. “I will destroy the Dirt so that no trace of it remains. Will you require my warriors for your interrogation, Roan of Longlight?”
Roan declines, as he knows he was meant to, and one by one the Apsara gracefully exit, leaving Asp standing alert but calm.
“I am sorry for this, Brother Asp. I wish it were not necessary. You were a trusted friend. But that was pretense, wasn’t it? All along you were a spy. A Dirt Eater spy.”
Before Asp can respond, Wolf has put a blade to his neck. “You betrayed your Brothers, your Prophet, and the Friend. My only wish is to see you burned alive.”
In an instant Roan is at Wolf’s side. “Please put down your sword, Brother Wolf.”
Wolf looks down at the blade point of Roan’s hook-sword, poised to pierce his heart, and slowly backs away. “As you wish.”
Meeting the man’s barely disguised rage with utter calm, Roan continues, “Perhaps it would be best if you left me and my…Lieutenant alone with the prisoner.”
Without discernible hesitation, Wolf pivots and, with a bow, Stinger follows. Roan might have had Stinger stay, but as the door closes behind the Brothers, he knows it is best this way. Facing back into the room, he almost smiles at his friend’s startled expression. He’d just blurted it out, but he likes the idea of Lumpy having a title the Brothers can understand—after all, Lumpy is the only person he really trusts.
Asp lets out a long, weary sigh. “I always knew that you would be the one to expose me.”
Standing across from the Dirt Eater, Roan introduces Lumpy, then explains, “I could never understand how a man as kind as you could live with the Brothers and abide their violence. It was my Lieutenant who pointed out that you might not be one of them.”
“You are the Mor-Tick survivor I was told traveled with Roan,” Asp says, looking curiously at Lumpy. “As a man of healing, I’ve seen many die of your scourge but never met one who lived. If I survive this interrogation, I hope you will tell me your story.”
“Didn’t you know Lelbit?” asks Lumpy.
Roan looks at him, surprised. Lelbit had died saving Roan’s life. That was many months ago, but the sorrow in Lumpy’s voice is raw, as if he’d lost her only yesterday.
“I’ve heard of her, of course,” Asp answers, “but I was with the Brothers long before she came to Oasis. I know though, that she was greatly loved.”
“Yes,” says Lumpy. “She was.”
Asp’s mention of Oasis is all the confession Roan needs. “How did the Dirt Eaters know I would end up with the Brothers?”
Asp looks directly at Roan. What had been lost between them has come at last to this. The interrogation has begun. “A simple question with many answers.”
“Some more relevant than others,” Roan says pointedly.
“Then I will begin with the prophecy. It foretold that a rain of fire would descend on Longlight…”
Shouts. Explosions. Crazed skull-masked invaders on horseback, waving torches, slashing, burning.
“…Once the City had abandoned its policy of toxic bombardment, we had to discover what alternate tool of destruction it would choose. Saint, prophet of the Friend, had emerged. It was our belief that he would be chosen to rain fire on Longlight and find you. So, I was sent to join the brethren and await your coming.”
“Why didn’t the Dirt Eaters try to find Longlight themselves?”
“They did. But your mother was shielding you. She was probably shielding the entire village.”
“How would you know that? Couldn’t it have been anyone?”
“All attempts to locate you were deflected by an impenetrable barrier. It had a specific protective quality that was recognized.”
It’s the prophecy. His father’s voice had woken him. That’s only a myth. Only a myth, his mother had said. We have to leave. We have to leave now.
“She was very powerful, Roan.”
“She didn’t believe in the prophecies.”
Asp is startled by the statement. “She said that?”
Roan remembers his father’s voice, desperate, trying to convince his mother. You know the truth. We always knew this time would come. Then she, strong, determined: Wake them. Go, go, go! “It’s possible, isn’t it, to know something but not want to believe it? Not until you have no
other choice.”
Asp considers Roan’s question, then nods once, sadly. “Saint had conceived of the Visitations as a purifying wind of fire; it took your arrival for him to realize they were really genocide, performed under the orders of Darius. Saint did see the madness of it, in the end.
“In fact, all the Brothers were haunted by the destruction of Longlight. Your people sang as they were led to their deaths, Roan. An eerie humming. It was obvious the entire community had come to an agreement. They did not fight. They allowed themselves to be sacrificed. Why? Simply to fulfill a prophecy?”
All will not be lost. That was what Roan’s father had promised his mother that terrible night.
Asp stares at Roan, hungry for his answer, but Roan says nothing. The Dirt Eater digs his fingernails into his palms so hard he draws blood. “I’ve had much opportunity to consider this question. Originally, I assumed it would have been better for your parents to seek Dirt Eater protection. But now I realize they could not risk such an alliance. We had been underground too long, alive too long to remember the pain of death, the agony of individual suffering. For us the battle had ceased to be about the needs of ordinary people, the kind of people who trust me to mend their wounds, heal their sicknesses, detoxify their lands. The eldest among us had ceased to think of the earth and how it must be healed. They strove more and more against Darius, and less and less for humanity. They broke every taboo when they placed Ferrell inside your sister. I now understand that Longlight had no choice but to trust in the prophecy.”
As he drives his fingers even more deeply into his palms, blood drips from Asp’s clenched fists onto the stone floor. “I will never take Dirt again,” he says vehemently. “Your great-grandfather was right to reject it. Dirt has been our ruin. Let Wolf kill me. I’ve seen more than I can bear.”
Roan gently places his fingers over Asp’s bloody hands. “If you really want to make amends, help us.”
Asp’s eyes clear. “You would trust me?”
“I want to trust you. I don’t know if I can. But there’s something I think you could help me with.”
“Ask. I will tell you if I am able.”
Roan hesitates, scrutinizing the former Dirt Eater’s face, listening to his breath, the blood pumping through his veins. Asp is telling the truth.
“I need to map all the territory occupied by the Turned and the Dirt Eaters in the Dreamfield.”
“My own knowledge is limited. Any map I might draw will be crude at best, certainly not precise enough for your purposes.” Asp frowns, his gaze turning inward. When he looks back at Roan, his eyes flash with enthusiasm. “I have some friends, though, who might be able to help you.”
“Dirt Eaters?” Lumpy asks.
“Once, but no more,” Asp maintains. “Their names are Othard and Imin. They questioned the ban on City technology and were deemed criminal. Rather than recant, they broke with Oasis and became traveling physicians. Soon after, they were overcome with a devouring illness. Fearing for their lives, they asked for my help. I had seen symptoms like these before and recognized that they were going through a withdrawal. It awakened them—and me—to the Dirt’s darker side. From then on, I used Dirt sparingly, anxious for the day I might also sever my ties with Oasis. That day has finally come.”
“So exactly how might these two physicians help us?”
“Have you ever heard of the Foresight Academy?”
After an inquiring look at each other, Roan and Lumpy shake their heads.
“It was the architect Ferrell’s school. The Dirt Eaters’ most valuable records and books were kept there, including maps of the Dreamfield. Darius discovered its location so it had to be abandoned, but Ferrell and his pupils managed to conceal the library before barely escaping with their lives. We are certain the Clerics found nothing of value in the great cavern but Darius, no doubt suspecting treachery, ordered the entrance to the complex obliterated. The explosion was felt for miles around. The library was assumed lost and all records of its location were destroyed. But Othard and Imin are convinced it is still intact. If they are right, you may find the information you require there.”
“If they know where it is, why haven’t they gone there themselves?” Lumpy asks, voicing Roan’s very thought.
Asp chuckles. “In the years after its destruction, forays were attempted from which no one returned. Othard and Imin are scientists, not warriors. It is not a journey to be taken by the defenseless.”
Roan’s unsure why but he feels driven to seek out these physicians, find this Academy.
Unwilling to completely trust his compulsion, he glances at Lumpy, who’s studying Asp. “What do you think,” Roan asks, “worth the risk?”
“Yes,” says Lumpy with a certainty that echoes Roan’s.
“Stay here with Asp and plan a route to these physicians. I’ll try to wrap up with the Brothers so we can leave first thing in the morning.”
But before Roan reaches the door, Asp calls out, “It might be easier if I was to join you.”
Roan turns back and looks at the man sadly. “You must stay here, Brother Asp, under the Apsara’s protection. There is no doubt in my mind that if you left here, Brother Wolf would find you and kill you.”
“I will gladly stay, Roan of Longlight, but, all respect to Brother Wolf, my fellow Dirt Eaters would surely kill me first.”
The clouds that encircle the lip of the Caldera obscure the path to the valley below. Though the promise of dawn hovers over the southeastern horizon, the humid chill of night settles in Roan’s bones. In a month, ice and snow will make the descent from this mountain treacherous, so Ende is already organizing the placement of her warriors in various villages across the Farlands.
He’d presented his plan to seek out the Foresight Academy to Stinger and Wolf the previous evening. His only hope of convincing them, he knew, was to call on the memory of their Prophet. So he reminded them that Saint collected books, not because he enjoyed reading them—he didn’t know how—but because he’d believed that books contained information that would help him fight the City.
To Roan’s relief the Brothers had agreed that he should try to find the library; what he hadn’t counted on was that they wanted to accompany him. He’d had to insist that if they were to attempt to contact a smuggler and a Governor and arrange a meeting, it needed to be before winter set in and storms became more frequent and unpredictable. In the end, they had reluctantly conceded that to accomplish all of their goals they would have to, at least briefly, go their separate ways.
Roan’s startled at the tenderness with which the Brothers part from Ende. He’d become so used to the formality of their meetings that he was unprepared for the intimacy of their goodbye. But he’s not alone. Lumpy’s mouth hangs open as each hulking warrior bends to accept Ende’s blessing. It makes Roan think of pictures he’s seen of knights and their queens, except for the fact that this particular “queen” is small only in appearance and could undoubtedly thrash her former students without breaking a sweat.
Turning to Roan, Stinger asks, “When may we expect you, Roan of Longlight?”
“In two or three weeks. I’ll be there by the new moon.”
“Have you settled on the location of this meeting?” Wolf is irritable. No doubt at the thought of having to contact a smuggler and a Governor.
Roan knows what he’s about to tell him will only make it worse; he just hopes Wolf will accept it without their hook-swords being drawn.
“The camp of the Brothers.”
As Wolf opens his mouth to disagree, Roan raises his hand. “The camp is well fortified and easily defended. Our visitors will feel safe there.”
But Wolf is adamant. “We cannot allow heathens to taint our sacred ground. It is against all our beliefs.”
“The Friend is everywhere. He is here, in Kira’s home. He was on the mountain with Saint. The time is coming when all ground will be sacred. It must be so if we are to survive.”
As Roan watches Wolf conside
r, he catches Ende’s eye. She had said invoking the Friend would get Wolf to listen. Still, doing it makes Roan feel like a hypocrite.
“Perhaps,” Wolf spits out.
“Do not forget the words of the Prophet.” Kira’s command gets Wolf’s attention; this reminder is for him and him alone. “You made a vow to Saint, a promise to prepare the way for Roan of Longlight.”
“And I will.”
Ende’s eyes slowly meet those of everyone gathered in the early dawn’s chill mist. “Much has been discussed. As I taught you early in your training, Brothers Wolf and Stinger, the green branch bends, it yields and thus survives. The Apsara will join you within three days of Roan’s arrival, at moon’s first crescent.”
Accepting her dismissal, Wolf and Stinger promptly take their leave.
As their shadows melt into the morning haze, Lumpy lets out all the breath he’s been holding for the last few minutes. “I’d say that went…pretty well.”
“Yes,” says Kira, “no one died.”
“We can be thankful for that,” Ende agrees wryly. “You have taken your first step, Roan. You began it tripping, but in the end, your foot landed firmly. I would urge you to continue to consider the value of the Friend. The Brothers are deeply religious men, with thousands of followers in the Farlands. They have transformed their faith to accommodate you. This is no small gift to a leader. It must not be scorned.”
“But it’s dishonest for me to accept this gift. I don’t believe in the Friend. He’s not real.”
“That is a harsh judgment,” Ende says. “Roan of Longlight, you know there is more to this world than what most men see. You should not be so quick to deny another’s truth before you have even attempted to meet it.”