Beggar's Rebellion: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Empire of Resonance Book 1)

by L. W. Jacobs

  —Eglen Fetterwel, Human Nature and Divine Right

  The kids took to the forest hideout like fish to water, memories of their time in the prison camp sloughing off in the excitement of a new home. Curly liked to hang around the training grounds, imitating the new recruits with a stick for a sword, and Pang usually worked in the longhouses, mending clothes and tending cookfires. In a lot of ways, it was the sort of life he’d always wanted for them. Except the threat of Councilate attack.

  And except for Fisher. He’d never seen her shock sickness last this long. Even when he’d first found her on the streets, she’d started to come out of it after a few days. But something about this time was different. “Oi,” Aelya said, interrupting his thoughts. “Getting broody on me again?”

  “What?” Tai stood over a large pot, wood spoon forgotten in his hand. “No. Just thinking.”

  “Same thing.” Aelya stood next to him, giving the roasting barley a critical eye. “What about?”

  Tai shrugged. “How if we could just stay here, if the Councilate would just disappear, how good a life this would be.”

  Aelya nodded soberly. “And if I could grow a cock, I could lay any woman in this hideout.” She gave a wry grin when Tai didn’t laugh. “No sense in worrying about it, though. We’re doing what we can. Meck, half the time, you’re off raiding or fighting or whatever. How do you think I feel, sitting around here with a bandage on my belly, waiting for you to die and the mecking Titans to pour in?”

  Tai nodded. “I just wonder if it’ll be enough. You weren’t there, Aelya. You didn’t see the people in the camp, the bodies they were carting out. We need to get them out now.”

  Aelya worked her jaw. “I saw the ones that escaped. I’ve seen Fisher. But you’re the one who said it; we need an army.” She gestured to the woods, where new recruits were clearing more forest for longhouses. The hideout had doubled in size. “And we’re making one.”

  “Yeah. I just—even if we kill them all, they’re just going to send more. Can we ever get big enough to hold off the whole Councilate?”

  “We don’t need to. We just make it too expensive to stay.”

  Tai shrugged. “Every time we do a strike, I can’t help thinking it’s that many more people they’re going to throw into the prison.” Councilate arrests had stepped up in time with rebel attacks.

  Aelya waved a hand. “It won’t matter if they decide to leave themselves. And with yuraloading, meck, we’re already stronger than them.”

  Tai paddled the barley up from the bottom. “That’s another thing, forcing the new recruits to load. Have you been to the Gauntlet?” That was what they’d started calling the row of trees where they tied new recruits to yuraload, a few paces into the forest. “Have you seen how many are dying?” Their screams often echoed through the hideout.

  Aelya shrugged. “It’s on them to join us or not. If they’re willing to die for it, we know they’re loyal. And most of them come out stronger than they were. ’Sides, not that many of them actually die.”

  With the number of new recruits, though, it was still a lot. He had seen the bodies getting carted away into the forest for burial, reminding him too much of the cart in the prison camp. He needed to ask Ella if she had any theories on how to prevent yuraloads from going bad. “I still think it should be a choice.”

  “The Councilate took our choices a long time ago. It’s just kill or get killed now.”

  There was something wrong with that, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

  Curly ran up to them, carrying a wooden sword comically outsized for his thin frame. “Tai! Can you show me how to fight like you do?”

  Tai grinned despite himself. “You probably already use it better than I could. Who gave you that?” Fisher came trailing behind him—she followed one or another of the kids around all day.

  “I earned it,” he said, chest puffing out. “Theron made it, and told me if I could beat him at one-handed combat, I could keep the sword. And I beat him!”

  Tai struggled to the keep the smile from his face. “Well done. Did you see him do it, Fishy?”

  The girl just stared at him, silver-black locks in her eyes.

  “It’s just us, Fishy,” Aelya said, holding out a hand to her. “Everything’s okay.”

  She scooted behind Curly, one hand shooting out to hold his. “Don’t worry, Tai,” Curly said, his voice high and scratchy. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Tai nodded, stomach knotting. “Good. Thank you, Curly.”

  Curly nodded sharp like Tai had been an officer barking orders, then pulled Fisher away. “C’mon, Fishy, let’s go find Pang.”

  Aelya put a hand on Tai’s arm. “Fisher will come around.”

  Tai watched them go, emotions roiling in his chest. What if she never did? What if she was the price he paid for failing them?

  He couldn’t tell if this last thought was his or Hake’s—it was hard sometimes. But instead of gratitude, or relief, Hake had just been putting more guilt on him since the camp, saying he should have saved them sooner. And much as he felt that way, Tai didn’t want to hear it from Hake too, so they hadn’t been talking much.

  At the other end of the clearing, fighters were emerging from the forest with a wooden wagon painted in Galya’s seven-armed squid. From the looks of it, it was loaded down with foodstuffs meant for the mines. The fighters wore green bands tied around their necks, something they’d taken to in recent days for ease in battle. A cheer went up, as it usually did when a successful party returned, though Tai noticed two of the fighters were limping.

  Tai stood, restless to do something, to work out the worry in his chest. Aelya took the paddle from him with a sigh. “Better go see what happened, hero.”

  Karhail was among the fighters, wearing a green cape. “Successful strike?”

  “Aye,” the Seinjialese grinned, wolfish. “And we got one of them to talk. More wagons headed out around starset. We could use your help on this one. You in?”

  “Always.” It was doing something, at least.

  First, he had a meeting with Ella. They’d agreed to meet every three days, to share updates and information. This would be their fourth meeting, and on the walk in to Ayugen, Tai was surprised to find himself looking forward to it. Though she was a lighthair, and acted like it a lot of the time, she was funny too, and she actually seemed to care what happened to the city. Which made her very much not a lighthair, as far as he was concerned.

  Their meetings were also a welcome break from the bustle of the camp and the constant danger of their raids. A chance to just stroll and chat, without kids or rebels demanding things of him.

  She was waiting as usual on the railing of the carved bridge that arched over the Sanga, milky water rushing underneath.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” he said, dipping the ridiculously tall hat he’d chosen on purpose from their store of disguises.

  She glanced over, hair tucked into a Yati wrap and long figure hidden in a bulky dress. “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” she said, as though her mouth were full of mush. Was that supposed to be a Yati accent? “I’m just waiting for my mistress.”

  “Well, perhaps you’d enjoy a stroll in the meantime?”

  This had become a thing they did, after he’d shown up in Councilate whites and her in Achuri roughspun for their second meeting, pretending to be someone else and generally failing miserably.

  “I’d be, ah, scandalized, sir, but yes, I suppose.”

  She took his arm like a lighthaired lady, breaking her disguise, but then, he was probably walking or talking or likely doing it all differently than lighthaired gentleman would.

  “What news from the Tower?” he asked once they were out into the fields south of the city.

  “The usual gossip,” she said, switching to her regular, slur-mouthed Councilate Yersh. “The rebels are going to destroy the city, they are almost wiped out, someone cheated on someone else’s fiancé, that sort of thing.”


  He didn’t actually know what that sort of thing was, but he nodded. “Anything that seems useful?”

  She pulled a flower from the dewblossoms edging a melon field. “There’s been a lot of talk of the raids on yura shipments. Sounds like they are sending yura in smaller quantities now, and storing them in Newgen or their bluffmanses rather than down at the docks.”

  “It does seem like there’s been less yura in the raids we’ve been doing.”

  “Are you—involved in all of them?”

  Was she hesitant because it meant he was in danger, or that he was hurting other lighthairs? “I am. The rebellion doesn’t have any wafters as strong as I am, and it comes in handy.”

  “So, what’s the long-term goal, then? You just keep harrying their flanks until they give up?”

  “The goal is to get rid of them.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “You mean kill them? I’m technically one of them, you know.”

  “No, not kill them. Push them out economically. If we keep raiding mines and burning dockhouses and sinking ships, eventually it’ll be too expensive for them to stay, and the Houses will pull out.”

  She regarded the dewblossom she’d plucked. “That’s a pretty good idea, actually. But it’s still a Councilate idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Economics. Money. That’s how the Councilate thinks. You’re beating them on their terms, and that’s good. It’ll probably work, if you get big enough. But I mean, what’s the solution after they leave?”

  Tai shook his head. “To…live in peace, I guess.”

  “Okay. So, who are the rebels, really? Achuri people?”

  “No. They’re mostly not Achuri, actually. We’ve got Seinjialese, Yati, Yershmen…”

  She nodded. “It takes people who were born and raised in the Councilate to make that kind of plan. But it’s a short-term one.”

  Tai frowned. “I just figured that’s all a problem for after the rebellion.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t you see? Your rebellion is thinking in Councilate terms. It’s people raised in the Councilate, or affected by it at least. So, say you push the Councilate out. Then what?”

  “Then we organize locally and get back to living how we want to.”

  “And how do you organize it, the way it was before the Councilate came? But there are new people here now, and a new source of money. Yura is the most valuable substance in the world. Who gets to control that?”

  Tai struggled. “I guess I thought we’d figure that out when we got to it.”

  “Well, the easiest answer will be to set up Houses, or companies, or whatever you want to call them, that run their own mines and sell their yura. And soon enough, you’ll have a mini-Councilate. And if you keep them out and make enough money, your Houses might start thinking about expanding, hiring more people, finding more markets. So, maybe you conquer the Minchu, or try and take Yatiland back from the Councilate.”

  “We would never do that!”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t, but what about the people in the rebellion? Karhail, or the others who came from the Councilate. Will they be able to imagine anything really different? Be happy with the kind of life people might have been leading here, simpler and harder than how they grew up?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  She nodded. “Even if you do get them out, their ideas are still here. Newgen is still there, and people are still going to look at it and think the best life is one lived in glass towers, with fancy buildings and imported foods.”

  “Maybe they will. With yura to sell, we’ll have enough to do that, if we want to.”

  “But to make enough money off that yura, you have to undercut your people in the mines. And to sell it somewhere, you’ll have to trade with your enemies downstream, powering their armies to come back. This is what I’m saying. It isn’t the people that are the enemy. Killing lighthairs won’t change anything. Yes, there are some bad people in the Councilate, people who are so obsessed with money or power or whatever that they’ve lost all sense of humanity. Odril is one of those. But most of them are like you or me, caught up in Councilate ideas, in the wave of change that’s made it the biggest empire in history. And if the rebellion is caught in that wave too, at best you’ll end up just another Councilate, with its own rebellions to crush.”

  Tai struggled for an answer. But instead of words, he remembered the tender inside the prison camp, the ones taking on the roles the lighthairs used to do, like the colliers down in the mines. Oppressed people oppressing others to rise up. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not saying it’s not possible. I’m just saying that you have to think further than getting the Councilate out. Think less about fighting people than fighting the ideas that have made them this way. That’s the only way to really win. Otherwise, we’ll just end up imitating the thing we’re fighting against, becoming the Councilate we hate, whether we win or not. It happened to the Seinjialese, in the years between contact and conquest. Either way, the Councilate wins.”

  Tai took a slow breath in and out, fighting through his frustration. Winning was already hard enough without having to win a particular way. But maybe this was what Marrem meant when she talked about doing it better.

  He gave her an appraising gaze. “You might be the perfect person to help with that. Even if you’re one of them.”

  She laughed. “Maybe because I’m one of them. You need someone from the top to see through it all.”

  “Are you from the top?” She seemed like she came from money, and was educated, but he actually had no idea how to tell. Most lighthairs seemed like that.

  She bit her lip. “Close enough.”

  “And you’re still with us? Willing to try to fight ideas like you were talking about?”

  She nodded. “Currents, yes, I’m still with you. I want an alternative to the Councilate as much as you do. Maybe more. But if the rebellion’s not going to do that, I’ll go back to my old plan.”

  “What was that?”

  “Becoming smart enough and indispensable enough that they have to make me an advisor to the Council. Then working to change it from the inside.”

  Ancestors. Advisor to the Councilate? He looked at her in a new light, despite her Yati sackcloth dress. “I hope we can live up to that.”

  “Well, I think I can help with the ideological side. I would love to, actually. But you guys still have to actually defeat them militarily.”

  “Right. I think we can. Your information has been helping. And yuraloading changed everything. People are coming to us now, more and more.”

  She gave him a long look. She was actually quite beautiful, for a lighthair. “Well, be careful, Tai of the Ghost Rebellion. And think about what I said. If you’re going to be different than the Councilate, you have to start now.”

  24

  The philosophical depth there truly leads one to quail. Should I have brought back the hundredth of their skill with metaphysics, material craft, or divination, we should be far beyond what we are. And yet, they lacked even the beginnings of political subtlety.

  —Ablen Ergstad, The Thousand Spires and Back Again

  Ella grimaced over her steaming cup of milk tea. Defeated again. Sablo always had some counterargument, some deeper knowledge of Councilate law and how the courts worked. The trouble was, her research always proved him right. At least she was learning something.

  “All right, then,” she said, shifting in her chair. They were back in the Inn of Seven Doors, sharing the spiced and sweet tea forever popular in the capital after a light afternoon lunch. A pleasant breeze blew in the windows, carrying the babble of water and gentle notes of a windlute. “Let us try another. This time, I am a representative of House Galya, challenging you of Alsthen over alleged proxy funding of attacks on my House.”

  Sablo steepled his plucked eyebrows. “Still this about the proxy wars? I thought we’d agreed it’s not a suit you can win.”

  “And I won’t
try in the courts. But it may help with practice. Unless”—she raised her eyebrows—“you are afraid you’ll lose this one?”

  The older man grinned. “Never. What are your allegations?”

  “Not allegations but proof, sir, in the form of ledgers fixed with your House seal, beginning a paper trail that leads back to falsified sources, known to Councilate lawkeepers as fronts for local mercenary groups.”

  “Ah. In that case, I would have filed a countersuit on seeing the suit.”

  Ella paused, tea halfway to her mouth. “A what?”

  “A countersuit, of course. You cannot bring charges against me if you yourself are not a citizen in good standing. So, the courts process the countersuit first, to be sure the accusing party is in fact in good standing.”

  She frowned. “And what would be your charges?”

  “Why, funding of proxy forces, of course.”

  “My House is innocent of all such dealings.”

  “Ah. But what if I said I had proof you were not? That in fact your own paper trails lead back to similar known mercenary groups?”

  “I—would protest you are at least as guilty. So, perhaps neither of us are fit to accuse the other.”

  Sablo dipped a sweetcake into his tea. “This is where knowledge of the court comes in. Galya has had the temerity to file against Alsthen, and thus has implied its own good standing—and must suffer the consequences if it appears you are in fact guilty yourselves.”

  “But Alsthen is too! I have proof!”

  “And in the right hands, perhaps that could lead to a conviction. But that would need a third party in absolutely good standing.” He took a bite, then gave her a wry grin. “You see why improprieties shared by all the Houses go unpunished?”

  “But that’s—it’s unjust! Unfair!” Even as she got angry, a voice inside said she ought to know better, to have expected less of the system.

  Sablo swallowed. “Agreed. I can’t tell you how many times I have tried to find a third party willing to champion causes that might change some of the ways the Houses do business. But with House-hired assassins and frequent boating accidents…” He shrugged. “A hero never appears.”