by Trish Mercer
“But,” Genev finally spoke, “fighting never reached the heart of Idumea. The edges, yes, but the army always kept it out of the center of the city.”
“Now, how would Querul’s servants ever know about that?”
Genev blinked. “They wouldn’t! If their only source of information was Querul the First, then—”
“Precisely. He even had some of his soldiers run around the compound a couple of times a year, screeching and shouting. He achieved complete control over the knowledge and thoughts of his servants. So widely successful was he that he took the next step: he began to use the same methods over the world. First he controlled what they knew and eliminated that which was counter to his agenda. That was when he established neighborhood schools, an idea which we’ve expanded. Querul also gathered all of the family lines and with them, much of the history concerning the first families. Telling everyone he was to compile it all in one shared book, to be distributed freely throughout the world, was what convinced everyone to give up their most prized documents.
“He also found and collected records written by the first families, the guides, and even the one who claimed he was the Creator. And Querul discovered documents containing descriptions of terrain and the geography of this entire sphere, details about the stars, movements of the sea, descriptions of phenomena such as storm patterns and even what happens when a volcano erupts.
“It became clear to Querul that much of this information had been passed down orally from parent to child, since parchment was so expensive and rarely used for any writings except the most important details, as those document represented. Without that knowledge being recorded, it would eventually be forgotten.
“But Querul had worried that if somehow all of those bits and pieces were ever compiled together, it would represent a vast wealth of knowledge. And if the populace had all that knowledge, nothing could restrain them from leaving Idumea and its surroundings. They would know enough to break free.”
Genev slowly shook his head in amazement. “So the fire . . . the fire that consumed all those writings in the stone vault . . . Querul did that intentionally, didn’t he?”
“Oh, yes,” Mal nodded in appreciation. “Of course he played it up as if it were a great tragedy, but it was all part of his design. He had many plans for the world and for his own wealth. But if a people aren’t contained, their skills, knowledge, and labor can’t be capitalized upon by the most powerful in the world.
“So Querul traumatized the world, similarly as he had done to his servants. He embarked on controlling their knowledge and terrifying them from ever leaving. He sent out Terryp to gather information about the western lands, fully intending to discredit him when he returned. Terryp lent him a hand in that. So inspired and enthused about what he discovered, he came back quite mad. Terryp found all kinds of ruins, etchings in stone in other forms of writings, carved illustrations of animals no one had ever seen—it was quite simple to demonstrate the western lands were poisoned and empty for a reason. Look how maddened Terryp was once he returned!”
“Genius!” Genev breathed.
“Querul was,” Mal sighed, almost in envy. “But someone saw through his tactic: the last guide, Pax. He confronted Querul, told him it was all lies, and that he would expose his deceit to the world. That’s when Querul sent him out to discover new lands for himself. He gave Pax supplies and even his own personal guards, with explicit directions for those guards to kill the meddling old man who claimed he was inspired by the Creator. A few weeks later Querul’s guards returned to him with blood on their hands and a promise that Guide Pax was no longer a threat.”
Genev squinted. “Yes, I’ve heard that before. But Querul had those guards executed—”
Mal chuckled in appreciation. “Yes, that’s what he told the world. He feigned fury that his guards killed the revered guide, the man that was to find new homes for those still troubling the world with violence. But the only one who troubled Querul at that time was old Pax. Querul paid off those guards quite handsomely for a job well done, and they each left Idumea with new names and identities.”
“But . . . but thousands still tried to leave Idumea and the world,” Genev said, struggling to reconcile what he thought he knew with what he knew now.
Education can so easily unseat one’s confidence about the truth of the world, Mal noted privately. Obviously he’d been doing it right all these years.
“Yes, some people tried to run away,” Mal nodded. “They were either loyal to Pax, or were still trying to disrupt the harmony Querul was creating. He let them go for a time, watching where they ran as they left for the forests. Querul turned that to his favor: in essence, he created the first Guarders. As people fled he quietly sent his soldiers to slaughter them. But publicly, Querul let the world believe most of them escaped and that they continued to torment the world out of vengeance.”
“So were there any that actually made it to the forests?”
Mal shrugged. “Querul thought so, but how could they survive in such a hostile environment? He doubted any made it for long. In my twenty years of doing this, none of my men have reported seeing anyone else.”
“And just how reliable are your men, sir?” Genev ventured.
“Reliable enough,” Mal insisted.
Genev nodded once back. “Remarkable. I never realized how shrewd Querul the First was.”
“Nor did I, until I found the crate,” Mal agreed. “Then I was wise enough to burn all of his writings so no one else would ever know. Rather made me sad,” he said wistfully. “Makes me wonder if my successor will do the same to all of my research, that no one would ever know the extent of my intellect . . . I suppose I should just never die, then.”
Genev started to smile, until he realized Mal was serious.
“Genev,” the Chairman said with a faraway look in his eyes, “I think I know who sent that map.”
“Who, sir?”
“Someone who had access to it, before the fire. Querul stored many of the records here in the mansion, then moved them to the old garrison. Twice the documents and maps had to be moved. And who do you think may have helped in that?”
Genev shrugged.
“The servants.”
“Oh, sir, where are they now?”
Mal sighed. “Never been able to find out. They were in this mansion for nearly fifty years. Three generations, thirty-three people in all, by the time of Querul the Fourth.”
“The Stupid,” interjected Genev.
“Indeed. The Fourth was convinced by new High General Pere Shin that the servants had been contacted by the Guarders and were plotting against his family. So Querul released them and Shin relocated them somewhere in the east, maybe Coast or Winds. That Shin didn’t keep very good records,” Mal added in irritation, “and my examination of all the garrison files didn’t reveal much, except that he arranged for some people to teach them the ways of the world. The pathetic servants didn’t even know how to read! If they had any brains at all they changed their names and left for other villages. They’d be untrackable by now. All of them are likely dead, but if one of them saw Terryp’s map so many years ago, and stole it—”
“—maybe it was kept in their family all this time,” Genev suggested, “handed down from parent to child, waiting for the opportune moment to reveal it.”
Mal nodded. “Such as at a time like this, when the world becomes hungry for land and wants to escape the safe compound in which they’ve thrived for so many years.”
“What really would be the problem with letting perhaps 10 percent of the population leave?” Genev wondered. “It would give everyone the room they’re wanting, fighting would go down—”
Mal stared at him. “I heard you’ve made a great deal of renovations to your new mansion.”
Genev frowned at the abrupt change of topic, but went along with it. “Gadiman used only a small section of the servants’ quarters. He didn’t open the doors to the north wing for years! I’ve had to hire a d
ozen more laborers to restore and maintain it—”
“And how is all of that work being paid for?” Mal said.
Genev faltered for a moment. “I thought . . . I thought it was covered in the Administrator Needs clause of my contract.”
“It is. Now, my dear Administrator, where do the funds come from? Our needs are very great, because we in the government give so much to the world that the world needs to give back to us even more.”
“Uh . . . taxation?” Genev ventured.
“Yes, and if our revenue goes down by 10 percent because that many citizens leave, there also go all of your renovations, along with your pay increase and your eight weeks of paid leave—”
“We have to re-contain the world!” Genev burst out. “We can’t afford to lose anyone!”
Mal noticed it frequently took Administrators some time to realized that taxes—their income—actually came from real, everyday people. As senseless and bothersome as they usually were, the government really did need its citizenry.
“Yes,” Mal intoned, “I believe I made the point for containment some time ago. That’s why we’re not going to ignore this map, Administrator. That’s why we’re sending out our own expedition. We’ll only have to remind the world about the dangers of Terryp’s land and even those in my generation will shrink back in fear.”
“So when the expedition returns with new findings . . .?”
“They’ll be influenced by the Administrators over Culture and Science who, while not knowing nearly as much as you and me, do understand the need for containment, and those findings will be of such a nature that we should be able to keep the world confined here for another 137 years.” Mal clasped his hands on his lap.
Genev shook his head in admiration. “Absolutely stunning! Here I was thinking this would be disastrous, but no . . .” His eyes lit up with a new idea. “Chairman, so much could come from something like this. Kill two falcons with one cat?”
Mal frowned. “Just what are you getting at, Genev?”
“You brought me here to deal with another problem, did you not? I’ve spent several weeks reading all about a certain colonel in the northernmost edge of the world.”
Mal couldn’t help but lick his lips. “How will Perrin play into this?”
Genev chuckled in his indefinable way. “Years ago he annoyed you, remember? Back in Command School he even challenged you in front of the entire class insisting that your definition of a person as an animal was wrong.”
“He did,” Mal said steadily, waiting for the rest.
“I read your notes from that time. Shin declared that the Creator made men and women higher than animals, and because of that they are capable of looking evil in the eye and facing it.”
Mal made a fist. “And?”
“Sir, hasn’t he done precisely that?”
“What do you mean?”
“All I mean is, Shin recovered. Where so many other men perished, according to Dr. Brisack’s findings, Shin overcame his trauma. And then he went on to organize the northern armies and completely wipe out the Guarders.”
“Not completely,” Mal whispered. “I’m sure there are still a few communicators—”
“Who have sent how many communications in the past year?”
“None,” Mal confessed. “But we still have one very persistent general.”
Genev nodded, partially in sympathy. “We can begin to build the Guarders back up again, sir. From your notes, it seems it takes about a year and a half to recruit and train as many as we would need—”
“Yes, yes,” Mal groaned. “And we will, we will. As soon as this issue with Terryp’s map is resolved,” he reminded. “And Shin?”
“Sir, it’s been my experience that people gain a great deal of comfort from that which they believe in. They even imagine they receive some kind of power from it. I interrogated a woman not long ago who clutched a zucchini she believed talked to her.”
“Obviously she was delusional.”
“I agree,” Genev said. “All of us, to some extent, are delusional in what we believe. You and I, only very slightly. My zucchini woman, quite heavily. And those who believe in the Creator?”
“The most delusional of all,” Mal said, his tone developing a lighter quality. “Which would make Shin—”
“We can’t prove he’s insane,” Genev said, reining in the Chairman’s eagerness. “But what would compromise him is if he recognized that delusional quality all by himself. If he’s presented with evidence that runs contrary to all he’s ever believed—”
Mal looked up at the ceiling. “YES! He’d destroy himself!”
Genev smiled. “And many others. More than once his soldiers have reported hearing him mention the Creator. I received a report that he even told them at Moorland that the Creator was ‘pleased’ with their efforts there.”
Mal closed his eyes and chuckled. “Oh, was I correct in choosing you! That’s precisely what I’ve needed—new ideas to torment Perrin Shin. We don’t even need Guarders!”
“Oh, sir—but we do,” Genev said earnestly. “We must begin recruiting as soon as possible. Within a year and half we’ll need them.”
Mal narrowed his eyes. “And why is that?”
“What’s the point of an army if there’s no one to fight? Wasn’t that one of your early personal essays?”
“Just how much reading of my works have you done, Administrator?”
Genev shrugged. “All of it?”
Mal raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or suspicious.”
“I believe it’s good to be a little of both,” Genev suggested.
“So what will we do with Guarders if Perrin Shin is already a broken man?”
“We’ll break him—and another—even more. We can’t assume Shin will be completely devastated to realize the Creator was nothing more than someone’s imagination. We need to have another plan to continue his destruction.”
Mal clasped his hands together again. “So tell me: how will you devastate him, and another?”
His new colleague smiled primly. “Has there ever been a High General who made it to retirement age?”
“No, and I have a feeling you’re about to suggest the current one won’t make it either.”
The Administrator of Loyalty held out his hands. “It’s just that you are getting on in years, and I’d hate for you to have to wait an unnaturally long time to continue your observations. Especially when the High General has such an eager and well-trained Advisor. Cush is already failing. His ultimate demise could be subtle and appear natural, by Thorne’s hands.”
Mal’s eyebrows rose. “My, my that is progressive. Then he’ll have the High General position for his efforts, I assume?”
Genev smiled and folded his arms. “Qayin will think all of his efforts are for one purpose, but that’s when the long lost son will make his return.”
“As much as I would love to see Thorne not receive the position, I’m not sure that you understand,” said the Chairman carefully, “how involved Qayin is. There have been promises made—”
“Oh, I do understand. I’ve done all the reading, remember?” said Genev. “One of your earliest studies was ‘Discomfort breeds growth.’ I’d like to witness that. So we’ll create ‘discomfort.’ Qayin Thorne seems far too eager to call the shots, and far less willing to follow the orders. This isn’t his experiment now, is it? We’ll help him remember that fact. Despite all of his efforts and assistance, he’s merely a player, isn’t that so?”
Mal chuckled. “I’d love to see General Thorne to do some ‘growing’ as well. But consider this—there’s the possibility Shin may turn down the appointment to High General. He’s never been fond of Idumea.”
“Oh, he’ll come all right,” Genev said confidently. “Because I suspect he’d follow his wife to the ends of the world, or in this case, to the very center of it.”
“His wife?” said Mal, surprised. “How will she play into this?”
/> “Gadiman left an enormous amount of files brimming with allegations and suspicions. The thickest file of all belongs to a Mrs. Mahrree Peto Shin. All that’s needed is a few more pages, and Administrator Genev,” he said smugly, “can require her to come to Idumea to make a full accounting of her years of sedition.”
The Chairman let out a low whistle. “I’ve seen that file. She’s never done anything more than say a few things and write a few letters, unfortunately. The rest was Gadiman’s paranoid suppositions. Not enough to twist into full sedition. And we don’t have laws against someone’s words and ideas.”
“Not yet,” Genev said with a hint of planning.
Mal rubbed his chin. “Would take quite a bit of doing . . . there are a few Administrators who would be difficult to convince to pass such a law . . . But maybe,” he said, leaning forward, “maybe we just need the threat, not the actual laws. You mentioned thickening her file—how will you do that?”
“I have an idea or two of how to gather evidence of her threat to the world. It’ll likely take a few seasons, but nothing too long,” Genev assured him. “Of course, we’ll agree to drop the sedition charges as long as she promises to behave herself in the future and support her husband as the new High General. Then we’ll have them both under our influence here in Idumea. They’ll be too intimidated to make a wrong move against the Administrators, and that’s when we can try some truly probing experiments. Stabbing a caged animal is quite entertaining.”
“Then what of General Thorne?” said Mal with a knowing smile.
Genev chuckled, or so Mal assumed the sound was meant to be. “Wouldn’t that be the problem of the new High General Shin? Perhaps that should be the first question we test: what will Qayin Thorne do once he’s cast aside? What happens when two male bears fight for the same territory?”
Mal clapped his hands. “YES! I can hardly wait! Get me some parchment, I need to be writing all of this down . . .”
Chapter 26 ~ “But what do you know how to use, a pitchfork?”