Peacekeeper's Plan

by Wayne Meyers

  Horses whinnied, carts clattered, and people shouted out greetings or curses. The odors varied depending on the direction of the wind, from roasting meats or baking breads, to excrement from a nearby latrine or passing horse. Oddly enough, I loved them all. The horse manure reminded me of my little farming hometown, Tataling, located on the very outskirts of Solace well beyond the city wall.

  There was a heartbeat to Solace I had never known back in Tataling, and I loved it here. The people were the blood, and the veins the streets. I couldn’t wait to become a journeyman and patrol these thoroughfares, spending an entire day amongst this vibrant and ever-changing lifecycle.

  Babette’s flushed cheeks caught my eye. Yes, we would patrol together. An entire lifetime of days with Babette by my side, all within the rules of the peacekeepers.

  She glanced from a clothing store window to my face. Our eyes locked. My expression flickered for a moment from longing to passive as I quenched any signs of my thoughts. How this desirable future was to become reality lay far beyond my reasoning even as hope tugged at the edges of my imagination. With an effort I shook off my consternation and focused on the moment. For today at least, she walked next to me and that would have to be enough for now.

  Babette shook her head ever so slightly before turning away to gawk at a cart vendor hawking colored beads on knotted strings.

  “Imported from Nitlick,” the vendor claimed. He was an old man wearing the orange-red of the merchant’s guild. The sleeves were bordered with embroidered red circles threaded to each other with orange silk. “Highly prized across Bellisprodus. I’ve got bracelets and necklaces, all selling out fast. Only five gold pieces for the bracelets, and fifteen for the necklaces.”

  Her eyes lit up at the shimmering little spheres, but the cost was far beyond anything simple apprentices could earn in a year of running errands. Still, it broke my heart to see her brows furrow and lips purse with disappointment.

  “You!”

  The sudden shout tore my attention from the vendor as three large boys pushed their way toward us from down the street.

  Three familiar heads bobbed through the crowd of people hurrying around us. My mouth opened and my companions turned around to see what I was looking at. It was my old school bullies, Bromoff, Diagrin, and Ghan. I had last faced them alone two years ago and held my own, but the year before that—before I’d had any peacekeeper training at all—they had beaten me often until Marcos and Brentor rescued me one day. After that, I’d received the rest of my education at the peacekeeper guild by private tutor instead of school, a favor for which the Grand-Master had been obligated to permit Babette’s entry into the guild.

  It struck me then that in some odd way I owed them a debt of thanks, for if they had not bullied me, it was unlikely I’d ever have had a chance to know Babette save for more chance stairwell meetings during school dismissal.

  Today they seemed twice the size I remembered them, and just as mean. All three wore the heavy brown tunics of the blacksmith guild held fast by thick leather belts secured with a hefty metal buckle in the shape of a hammer striking a horseshoe. Thick-soled leather boots adorned their feet.

  Bromoff was the largest of the three and led the pack. He jabbed a meaty finger toward me. “I waited out front of school every day for a month after your last visit before I realized what a coward you are. How upset I was when you didn’t return.”

  “Let it go, Bromoff.” This one was thinner, with darker hair. He was the one who had tried to run off when Apprentices Marcos and Brentor had arrived to save me from that last beating three years ago. Diagrin. I took him to be the smartest, though no less shameful than the other two for he had been quite amused while taking his shots at me as his two cohorts held me steady.

  “What are you worried about?” The third boy, Ghan, was shorter than the other two, though stouter. He laughed without humor. He was the one who had taken the greatest pleasure when beating on me. “We are all larger than our old friend Hofen and his tiny companion here, and the last one is only a little girl.”

  Babette’s icy voice could have frozen fire. “Hofen, dear, who are your rude friends?”

  “These are some of my old school chums,” I replied with an odd calmness. The crowds around us had become shadows but this time I wasn’t planning to become part of the sidewalk. “They were part of a friendly group of lads who enjoyed using my body as a punching bag after school.”

  She gave a short, dour laugh. “Yes, I remember you telling me about them now. How silly of me to forget. They haven’t grown up much, have they?”

  Spaldeer’s tone matched Babette’s, icicle for icicle. “Oh, so these are the ones you mentioned.” My accounting of the beatings I had suffered had infuriated him.

  Ghan glared at the smaller boy. “Who are you, squirt?”

  Spaldeer did not flinch. “I am someone who cannot bear the sight of anyone who would inflict hurt upon another for the sheer amusement of it. Rubbish like you is why I am a peacekeeper, so that I may stop and punish you whenever and wherever the necessity arises.”

  Bromoff dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “He’s just a pint-sized manure boy.” His reference was to the blacksmith low-apprentices whose job it was to clean up after the horses. “The girl is of no concern either. Let’s show our old buddy here just how much we’ve missed him.”

  Diagrin grabbed hold of the larger boy’s shoulder with a powerful grip. “Wait now. All three wear the robes of the apprentice peacekeeper despite their puny appearances. Perhaps we could school Hofen alone, but we need to be more careful until the odds are even. There will be other times, do not fear.”

  “Don’t be such a filly.” Bromoff spoke bold, but I noticed he submitted to the pressure on his shoulder and stepped back.

  Bromoff, then, was no longer the leader. Or, perhaps he had never been. Diagrin had just become much more dangerous.

  Babette snorted with contempt. “Such a shame you boys are all talk and no action, but then I never expected more than words to begin with. Run off now. I think your mommies are calling you.”

  Ghan glared with fury and started forward, but again Diagrin reached out a hand, and the contact alone proved enough to deflate his action. He glared at us instead. “We will meet again—all of us. I promise you that!”

  “Let’s go.” Diagrin turned on his heel, and with identical backward scowls, the other two echoed his movement. A moment later and all three disappeared back into the crowds.

  Spaldeer hissed. “Animals like those are indeed why I became a peacekeeper. I could smell the malevolence emanating from their black hearts, and it is with the greatest of disappointment that I see them depart without attacking.”

  Repressing the surge of hostility that had arisen at the sight of my three former bullies, I patted Spaldeer on the back. Nothing was going to ruin our outing no matter how badly I wanted to see all three of them groveling in the dirt. “Well done.”

  “Why Spaldeer!” Babette laughed with a grin as she brought her small hand to her mouth in mock surprise, her bracelet sparkling in the sunlight where the arm of her robe slipped down. “Now that is a welcome relief from your usual placid self!”

  His lips curved but his dark eyes smoldered. “Well, my dear jungschwest, it makes me angry we have to share the world with refuse such as that.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Where did you come up with jungschwest, anyway?”

  Spaldeer continued to stare off into the distance for a moment before he shook himself and turned toward me. “The old word for “sister,” like I call you altbrud for brother.”

  Babette tilted her head. “Old word?”

  He chuckled, his good humor returning. “Yes, yes, the language of the Founders, or at least one of them. Apparently, our roots are somewhat tangled. Some of the old volumes are written in it, though, so I am learning how to read it. There are quite a few of them, all different from each other. This one I’ve taken a particular fancy to.”

  Spal
deer spent a lot of his free time either in the library or back in our room reading old books he borrowed from there. “What kind of old volumes?”

  “Oh.” He frowned, looking down at his feet. “Well, I guess that isn’t much of a secret. Any apprentice can visit the library.”

  “Why would it be a secret?” I asked.

  Spaldeer bit his lip. “I don’t know to be honest. No one came out and said it, but they implied other apprentices might be put out since they weren’t encouraged to do the research the masters have me doing.”

  Babette lowered her voice. “What kind of research?”

  He looked back up at us. “Well, books about history they didn’t teach in school, about the Founders and life on Old Earth before they settled Bellisprodus. Philosophy about the strong protecting the weak. And, of late, the theory and science behind our training. Why physical conditioning is so important, why certain places on the body are weaker than others, and how the mind can be trained to overcome physical limitations.”

  Babette exhaled. “That’s quite a bit of reading.”

  “What’s that about the strong protecting the weak?” I asked.

  Spaldeer’s forehead wrinkled. “I’ve only touched the tip so far. There are many, many volumes on this one subject, but I believe it formed the fundamental justification for the colonization of Bellisprodus.”

  Babette blew a curl from her eye. “How do you mean?”

  He shuffled from foot to foot. “Well, I’ve only read a bit so far, so I’m not sure exactly where this is going.”

  “You don’t have to agree with it. It’s just a book, right? Probably one of thousands the Founders wrote to explain why Bellisprodus is here,” I said.

  Spaldeer sighed. “Most likely you are correct, altbrud, there were many reasons. It’s just this theme keeps recurring in many of the books I’ve perused. Anyhow, the high-level summary is that humanity is divided amongst those who are capable, and those who are not. There are very few of the first who are as capable as a person can possibly be, cascading downward to a widening margin.”

  Babette frowned. “Like a pyramid?”

  He nodded. “Yes, exactly so. Those at the very top are entitled to dictate what is best for those below them, because they are better equipped to handle it.”

  This was not anything I had ever heard before. “But who decides who belongs at the top of the pyramid?”

  Babette sniffed. “They do, of course. Those who are at the top. They decide because that is what they want, or because their ego tells them they are right.”

  “But who is they? And how do they make the vast number of people look up to them?”

  Spaldeer chuckled. “That is the curious part, isn’t it? Are those at the top correct then, that they—whoever they are—know what is best for everyone else? And does everyone else feel relief that someone is telling them, because it’s too much trouble to figure out on their own?”

  My head began to ache. “Let us walk. We are wasting our day in the city discussing matters that make no sense.”

  As we resumed our stroll through the streets of Solace, Babette spoke up.

  “It sounds like our government, though.”

  “What does?” I asked.

  She tossed her hair with impatience. “The pyramid.”

  Spaldeer nodded his head. “King Lormud is at the top. Then comes the grand-master for each guild. Below them are their high-masters for their guilds in each city. Then their master assistants. And then high-journeymen, mid-journeymen, low-journeymen, down to the apprentices who follow the same structure.”

  “One king,” Babette said with an edge of ferocity. “A score or so of grand-masters, then hundreds of high-masters. Thousands of journeymen. Many thousands. And many more thousands of apprentices who all follow the few at the top.”

  “Well, what of it?” I said, confused why Babette and Spaldeer seemed upset. “It does provide structure and order. Everyone is fed and has a place to live. An occupation to contribute to society with to do their share. There is money to go around and buy the things we want beyond what we need. Surely that isn’t so bad?”

  Babette puffed her cheeks and exhaled. “It’s just that we have no say in anything. The Scriptures tell us what to do regardless if it fits the circumstances. And what did the Founders have against women? Why aren’t there more female peacekeepers?”

  “Everyone has a role to play,” Spaldeer said, so quietly it was difficult to make out his words through the hum of many footsteps on the sidewalk and the clattering of carts.

  A sudden thought struck me that sent shivers up and down my spine, and I froze in my steps. My two companions noticed and turned about to face me, their heads cocked. “How do we know for sure what the Founders truly meant to achieve? I mean, what if those at the top, the ones who have access to the books themselves, decided to change things? Rewrite the books?”

  Spaldeer paled. “The books I’ve read are old, though. I’m sure they haven’t been tampered with. And besides, there are many guilds who share books that overlap, like the bureaucracy guild and the barrister guild. Someone would surely notice if one guild behaved differently from what was interpreted by another.”

  Babette smiled at me then, a sweet smile that flushed my cheeks. “Sometimes, my dear, you come up with the perfect words. That is what is wrong with this pyramid of ours. We must trust those at the top to take care of us, but if the top changes to those who care more about themselves than those beneath them, how would anyone really know it even happened when everyone below are blindly following?”

  Conflicted by her praise and my guild education, I shook my head. “There must be trust, right? If things are going well, then the system is working and everything we’re doing now to prepare us for a life of protecting the Scriptures makes sense, and we must not worry otherwise.”

  Her hand patted my cheek, the rough palm warm and welcome. “So we must think because that is what they teach us from an early age, but at some point we need to think for ourselves. I’m not saying you’re wrong. But it is up to us to decide that things are working. Not for those who are above us in the pyramid to demand blind acceptance of whatever they mandate.”

  “And if it isn’t working?” Spaldeer whispered, looking more troubled than I had ever seen him.

  “We are peacekeepers, and must uphold the Scriptures,” I said. I had meant to sound firm and reassuring, but my sentence ended with a higher-pitched squeak than I’d intended it to.

  “Of course,” Babette said dutifully before swinging around and walking forward again.

  Chapter Eighteen—The Guildless

  Hoping to improve my companions’ somber moods I turned the conversation back to our training. “And what about you, Babette?”

  Walking side by side, I saw her eyes widen in mock confusion. “What about me?”

  “What have they been teaching you in secret?”

  She turned her face upward as her shoulders made a little shrug. “Oh, you know, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Nothing really interesting.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, keep it to yourself, then.”

  “A girl needs a few secrets. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”

  I turned to Spaldeer, who walked at my other side. “There should be a secret class to help us understand girls.”

  He nodded with a smile. “I think we would master every peacekeeper secret before we made it halfway through such a class.”

  Babette reached behind me to slap his shoulder as we strolled in a random direction, enjoying the hot sun beating down upon our heads. Unfamiliar with the city, I simply led the way down streets and avenues that peaked my interest. An exquisitely carved façade in the middle of one or a vibrant storefront in another directed our passage aimlessly along until the crowds thinned and the buildings grew taller still.

  Good humor restored, our little band joked and laughed as we walked. All the pressures of intense training and discipline evaporated as we simply b
ehaved like the young adults we were becoming.

  From one of the many street carts, Spaldeer treated us to a lunch of skewered spicy beef sticks crackling over hot coals, and from another close by, I bought three cups of warm goat’s milk to sooth our burning tongues afterward.

  We enjoyed window shopping and delighted in discovering an interesting shop or sidewalk stand, but none of us took the time to step inside or stand before a counter. At one point, Babette’s small, warm hand found mine, though I cannot say who reached out to whom first. Perhaps we both did at the same time, but it felt natural and right in a way words cannot with justice describe. Spaldeer glanced down after a while, but instead of shock or disapproval he simply smiled, and I felt warm and content amongst the company of my friends.

  And then our hands fell to our sides, forgotten.

  After having crossed a wide but oddly empty street we stopped and looked around at the buildings before us. They were tall—perhaps the tallest I had yet seen in Solace—but unlike their predecessors, these were dirty and disheveled, with cracked windows and brick exteriors that had chipped away in places. They were so abruptly different from what we were used to that it consumed our complete attention at first. We didn’t notice the people themselves until minutes after.

  And such people. Never before had I seen such a bedraggled lot. Many of them sat or stood about looking worn and ravaged, from the youngest squalling baby to the eldest grey-haired senior. Their clothing was torn and worn away in places, or clumsily patched, and seemed assembled from various rags. In fact, there was not one set of tailor-stitched clothing among them in a new or pristine condition. Many children did not wear shoes at all, and those who did had beaten up pairs that, from the way they awkwardly shuffled, were either too small or too large to properly fit their feet.

  The nearest group stared at us as we stared at them before returning to their muted conversations and half-hearted antics. They seemed afraid to look in our direction for too long. Several adults stepped over to their children to yank them away from our vicinity.