by S A Shaffer
“Uh,” David said, “I had pressing business in the city for Mr. Blythe. Please, sir! The orbital guard stamped my ID. What more do you need?”
“… to guard the sanctity of the Houselands from acts both foreign and domestic.”
The guard smiled at David. “I’ll bet you’ll be in a world of trouble for being late.” He handed the ID badge back to David and opened the temporary gate.
“… to provide for the needs of the people by moderating the will of the Assembly.”
As David ran across the foyer, he heard the sound of the oath morph into the actual sound of Blythe’s voice. The first time David had run across this foyer, the sun illuminated the entire room, filling David with hope. That was the first time he’d met Mercy—the first time he’d felt hopeful in four long cycles. Now darkness reclaimed the expanse as night settled over Alönia. No moon glimmered in the sky—no reminder of the sun that would rise the next morning.
“… to uphold the House Rules in accordance with magistrate opinion, I do so swear.”
David ran down the dark hall and burst into the Assembly to the railing that overlooked the egg-shaped room. He arrived at the very moment Blythe spoke the last word of the oath. David opened his mouth to stop the proceeding, but as he filled his lungs with breath, the auditorium erupted into a thunderous applause and his shout dissipated into the din as if he hadn’t said anything at all. He yelled a few more times, but to anyone around him he looked like every other ecstatic bystander. He looked up at the speaker’s dais and saw Blythe take the podium. He was too late. Blythe was speaker, and any accusation against him had to be filed through the appropriate channels in accordance with House Rules. David clamped his fists, still holding Paula’s locket. He wasn’t sure what to do. By habit he walked up the stairs and sat in his seat in the Third District balcony even as the rest of the auditorium quieted down in anticipation of Blythe’s acceptance speech.
“My fellow Alönians,” Blythe began, “today’s census has marked a new beginning. With high hopes and brave hearts, the Alönian people have made their will known by packing up and moving to a place of change.”
The crowd cut Blythe off with more thunderous applause, only quieting when he patted the air in exasperation.
“This census is a clarion call for the Houselands. A call for change from the ways of fear and defense. A call from the peoples of Alönia to view the Fertile Plains as they are: peaceful and friendly. A call to restore balance to our Houselands and opportunity to our people, to empower the poor with the means to live a normal life. For too long we have ignored these problems. We must convert our economy from one of hoarding to one of giving. And perhaps most importantly of all, we must bring our people together like never before. We must create a place where everyone counts equally. Are we not Equalists?”
Blythe lifted his hands in the air, and the auditorium thundered again.
“I want to begin this speakership by thanking the people who made it what it is. First, my friends. I need not list you all one by one; you know who you are. You have supported me all the way. I want to thank my staff. Francisco and Bethany—they came to the Third in our time of need and have been invaluable in their efforts. I also want to take this time to remember those who gave their lives along the way.”
The auditorium gasped at that.
“Paula Carbone was murdered a few months back, and Ms. Mercy Lorraine, who died just last week, also murdered.”
A murmur arose around the room as Blythe paused to wipe away some tears. David frowned, noting that he skipped mention of Samantha Samille.
“I know not who took their lives, but I make a vow here and now that I will find their murderers and make them pay for their horrific crimes.” Blythe punctuated this last sentence by jabbing his finger toward the crowd.
David restrained himself from jumping up and calling Blythe a liar. The depravity of it all was a disgrace of the highest order. As Blythe continued with his speech, David festered and fumed. He had to do something, but what was there to do? Blythe was now the most powerful man in the Houselands, lacking both morals and conscience. What good would an inquiry do? David’s mind drifted to his father’s old revolver. He could do it. He could smuggle the pistol past the guards and pull the trigger before anyone was the wiser.
“I want to thank the people of the Third District. You stood by me in the hard times. You believed in me even when we were failing. Our time has come. Our suffering has ended and our hope finds rest today!”
It was a long time before the crowd stilled and allowed Blythe to continue, the echo of their cheering in time with the throb of David’s heart.
“There is one more person I want to thank,” Blythe went on. “He is the real person you should be celebrating tonight … a man born and raised in the Third. He lived among us for cycles, yet none of us knew his worth. He scrounged and worked in poverty until he broke free of society’s shackles and earned an aideship.”
David felt silent screams gnawing at the back of his throat. His stomach churned with anger and regret, forging into solid lumps of guilt.
“I saw potential when I met him, and he did not prove me wrong. I saw his heart, and I knew he was a man in line with my own interests. He reminded me of why I fight for the Third and the prosperity of Alönia’s forgotten. Within a week he had shocked this entire Assembly and orchestrated the first steps that led to my rise. I stand here because of this man. I stand here because of the tireless efforts of my aide, David Ike.”
Blythe stopped and pointed a finger up at David as he sat in the balcony—and it felt like a knife in his heart, every word an accusation.
“David, stand and be recognized.”
The auditorium rumbled its approval and every eye looked toward David as he stood. He gritted his teeth and put on his best smile, waving as though he enjoyed the attention. For the first time David felt like a real politician: fake. All these people, all these sycophants … if only they knew the truth. How many of them already did? He looked around at all the representatives and aides, but the gallery drew his attention.
He was up there somewhere—the man in the shadows … once David’s enemy but now the only hope for Alönia. At last the applause died down, and David seated himself as Blythe resumed his speech.
David had a thought then. Every eye in the Assembly was on Blythe, but David was willing to bet there was one exception. Blythe had just named David as the mastermind behind his sudden rise. If the man in the shadows was in the gallery, and if he was as much of an enemy of Blythe as David suspected, then David figured he was at this very moment watching David, not Blythe. There were a lot of ifs in his line of reasoning, but at the moment a slim chance was all he had.
David pulled a pen and scrap of paper from a cupboard in front of his chair. He made a note on the paper and opened the copy of House Law on the desk in front of him. He slid the note inside the pages and pushed the book into the middle of the desk. It was a risk. If anyone else found that note, he might find himself the victim of some very gruesome torture. As casually as he could, David looked around his box as Blythe reached the crescendo of his acceptance speech. Everyone looked ecstatic, eyes forward and smiles broad. None of them seemed to have taken notice of his little note.
“I accept tonight the responsibility that you have given me to be the leader of these fine Houselands. I accept it with a full heart and a joyous spirit. But I ask you to be Alönians again, to be willing to give your share, to start assuming responsibility beyond the finances of your own home, not only in looking out for yourselves, but in looking out for all Alönians. We need a new spirit of community in the Houselands, a sense of equality and balance. If we have no sense of equality, the Alönian dream will wither away in war and quarrelling. Our destiny is bound up in the happiness of every Alönian. We rise or fall together. That is my message. Join me in the new utopia. Join me in the end of poverty and the beginning of prosperity. Follow me into the next era of peace.”
B
lythe raised his hands with the final words of his speech as if reaching for the stars. David covered his ears as the Assembly Room shook with exultation, but Blythe only smiled as he basked in his newfound power.
That was the trouble: the people loved him. David had spent most of the last three seasons making it so. Removing the man would mean riots. Accusing him of murder would mean riots. Opposing him would mean riots. David grimaced.
How much of the populous still even recognized what it meant to be Alönian? How many still remembered David’s grandfather and all the things he’d stood for? What percentage were wholly deceived? Until very recently David was among that group—ignorant, oblivious, and happy for it. How easily he had believed the monologue of share and share alike. What it really meant was: Share with me, and I will bleed you dry of your hard-earned wealth and syphon it into my own pockets. And when I’m done, everyone will be equally poor—save me.
The people continued to cheer as Blythe left the speaker’s dais and joined David back at the Third’s booth. Tonight would be the last time Blythe would grace it for at least three cycles. David smiled at Blythe and shook his hand, doing his best not to think about Mercy’s bloody body as he did so. He would maintain the status quo … for now. But as soon as he got his chance, David would tear the man down from his pedestal of lies.
Blythe smiled back at David and waved to the people as they continued to cheer and then come and greet Blythe and David personally. It continued like that for another forty minutes before all the people, hoarse-voiced, found their way out of the auditorium. A great many of the representatives had even stopped by the Third’s booth to shake hands with the new speaker and tell him they’d always supported him. David had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the spectacle: one liar lying to another.
After everyone had left, Blythe leaned against the booth’s desk and said, “David, we did a good thing today. I feel hope again, more so than ever before.”
David smiled. “I think a lot of people believe in you. Evidently they feel hope as well.”
“Ah yes, my boy!” Blythe said.
He wrapped an arm around David’s shoulders and led him out of the box and down the stairs to the foyer. The great window there looked blacker than ever to David. He wondered if it might suck him out into the expanse with the rest of the light.
“Great things are coming, David. Did you hear them in there? I could hardly finish my speech. There is a movement, and I am at the forefront. Make no mistake: I will change the Fertile Plains.” He sighed and gave David’s shoulders one last squeeze. “Well, I best let you go. I know you have a mother who needs you. But tell me, how is she, really?”
David bit his lip, hoping it concealed his fury in an expression of concern. She’s the same she has been for the past four cycles. The doctors say she will not recover. She will die. I just don’t know when. But he said none of that: “She’s the same, sir.”
“I’m going to take a personal interest in your mother, David. I’ve helped as much as I could in the past few months, but now that I’m speaker, I’m going to give her the attention she deserves. Trust me, she will lack nothing in my hands.”
David swallowed hard. He wondered exactly what Blythe meant by those words. Every time before when Blythe had asked, it felt hopeful and loving. Now it felt like blackmail, a prison he couldn’t escape. Was it a threat, or was David overreacting? Did Blythe know what he had been up to these past few hours? The truth was, David could not survive without Blythe. His mother would die in an instant unless he could find help somewhere else. If Blythe did know of David’s secret investigation, then David was dead and his mother not long after. If he didn’t know, then David had to keep it that way.
David put on an emotional face, looking up at Blythe with admiration and respect. “You are too kind, Speaker Blythe.”
EPILOGUE
It wasn’t terrible; it just wasn’t what it once was. Blonde was so different, striking in another kind of way. It shimmered in sunbeams and sparkled in moonlight. It certainly demanded attention, not because it was any prettier, simply because others couldn’t ignore it—like a black spot on a white sheet. And blue eyes … silver-blue eyes the color of the sky on a clear sunlit morning. Blue eyes looked deceptive and untrustworthy. That would make things more difficult. Perhaps the hair would compensate.
She tossed her hair as she looked at her reflection in the polished metal door, combing it with her hands, first pulling it back and then forward, trying to see if there was anything familiar about it. It was so very odd to look at herself and see a stranger. She sighed and replaced the golden hairpin. Drawing up her shoulders, she summoned all the elegance she possessed and knocked on the door. It swung open an instant later and she strode in, her royal-blue dress swishing across the floor with each step. Light poured in from three sides of the square room through tasteful, old-fashioned windows. Clouds drifted by at a lazy pace, curling and churning into indifferent shapes, uncaring of the storm approaching. The man himself stood at the far end of the room, looking out the window of his magnificent airship at the city below. A few others sat at the carved table in the room—all familiar faces to her.
The man turned and looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Back from the dead, I see. Blonde suits you well. Your brother is a good teacher.” He nodded to himself as he appraised her new look. “I’ll miss the red, though. It brought out the fire in your personality. … Have a seat.”
He gestured to a leather armchair on the far end of the table, and she sat there.
The man walked back to the window and observed the clouds for a long time before he spoke again. “It was a cunning plan, a grand effort, but I’m afraid we were too late. We now find ourselves in a precarious position. We burned one of our most valuable assets—an asset two cycles in the making. Blythe now sits in the highest seat in the Houselands, and he has the popular support of the masses. We can’t even assassinate him, not with his new security measures—and not without a riot. It will take turmoil to remove him, and given the current state of the Fertile Plains, that is something Alönia cannot afford.” He sighed. “David failed us.”
“David did not fail us,” she said from her seat.
He looked at her. “You saw him. He sucked up that applause like a sea sponge, smiling and waving like a good little aide.”
She shook her head. “I saw so much more than that. I saw a man in turmoil … a man conflicted. And while the rest of you were glued to Blythe and his utopian speech, I watched David.” She pulled a small scrap of parchment from a fold in her skirts and held it up for all to see. “He wrote this right after Blythe recognized him during the acceptance speech, then slipped it into a copy of House Law and left it on the desk.” She smoothed the paper and read the message aloud: “I know the truth now, and I’m ready to meet.”
She looked up from the parchment at the various people around the table. “He knew we would be watching. Luckily I was.”
“Mm, that’s all well and good, but perhaps you should look around,” the man said. “You are fixated on this boy, but we have a war on our hands. We are mere seasons away from the greatest threat Alönia has ever seen and you want to put your hope in a lowly aide?”
She let out a clipped sigh. “Don’t you see? He is so much more than that. He’s Speaker Blythe’s aide, and he has his absolute trust.”
The man shook his head and turned back to his window, but she continued, “He knows the truth now—maybe not all of it, but enough to see Blythe for what he really is. You burned an asset, true, but you gained a better one. Mercy was only ever a pretty face to Blythe—a woman he hoped might one day be persuaded to join his entourage. David is ten times more than that. You heard Blythe’s speech. He believes David to be a mastermind, and now we know he is willing to be our mastermind.”
“But it doesn’t matter anymore. Blythe is speaker for the next three cycles, and by the end of that time there won’t be enough Alönia left to muster against our enemies.”
“Three seasons ago, would you have believed that a no-name—Representative William Blythe—could rise up and steal the speakership from right beneath our noses? David did that in his first week as an aide. How much do you think he is capable of if we give him our support?”
The man didn’t answer as he looked out his window, but she could tell he was thinking on it, so she pressed on, “The people longed for a hero, and right now they think that hero is Blythe. If you take away their hero, they will rip the Houselands apart. But if you tear down their hero and show them a better one, you will win their loyalty forever. Right now they have hope in the wrong man. You can’t win them over by fighting against their hope. Their hope must fail, and when it does, we must be ready to replace it with real hope.”
“And you think David is their hope.” The man frowned. “You think this lad is a hero?”
She nodded. “I know he is. You said it yourself: as the last living heir of the Ike legend, he is capable of unifying the people like no one else. He is a born hero.”
The man continued to look out the window, his hands fidgeting behind his back. Another airship drifted by—a warship bristling with armaments.
She knew that he was on the edge. He wanted to believe, so she brought her case to a close: “It’s time to bring him in. It’s our only play left.”
The man turned away from the window and looked at her, his eyes focused, peering straight through her latest façade and into her soul.
“You’d better be right, Mercy.”
THE END
FROM THE AUTHOR
I love writing fiction, but more than that, I want you to love my fiction. Write a review on amazon and help me improve my craft. If you are looking for updates on future books or just want to chat, contact me through my website at sashaffer.com
S.A. Shaffer