“Also known as the Island Nation of Nar, or what once was the Kingdom of Nar,” the woman continued, flicking through images on the overhead projector. Deliverance caught her breath. They were drone images of her island! “This course is about the morality of anthropology and the issues surrounding it. None is more famous than that of the Narisi Restricted Zone. Can anyone tell me why that is?”
A tremulous student braved to raise her hand in the front and when called upon answered, “Because everyone wants to know about it, but no one is legally allowed to go there. Not even anthropologists. And no one has ever been off the island.”
“Almost correct, Ms. Herrera,” the professor replied, and then flicked the slide again.
Deliverance’s heart almost stopped. Upon the screen a spotty black and white image of her mother, in a small boat alit upon the screen. She looked younger and cast an expression of apprehension over her shoulder at the photographer, who must have been in the boat with her. What in the Fades were they doing with a picture of a much younger Cat?
“Everyone knows about the plague and the exodus to the island in 1483. Let’s fast forward to 2087. Twenty-three years ago. This woman, a Narisi native, was photographed aboard a boat. Who can tell me why this is odd?”
This time a young man in a smart blazer raised his hand, more confidently than his predecessor. “Because the phycological narrative fed to the Narisis has discouraged their use of boats to keep them captive on the island. All the boats were to be burned, as per the accord with Queen Arwen the III and her husband King Daniel the Red. Memory stealers later sent spells via messenger bird to wipe the idea of boats or the concept that people could float on water on vessels at all from the minds of the people.”
“Correct, but not entirely complete, Master David,” the professor answered. She flicked back to the slide of Deliverance’s mother. “In the mid-1700s, there was an attempt by a Narisi faction to flee the island. In an effort to quell this type of action, the Arcanton government, which regards the island of Nar as occupying its sovereign waters, came up with a solution. Does anyone know what that solution was? No one? Come on, people. This is central to the whole lecture!” Deliverance’s face burned with fury and indignation. This group of academics was discussing her people like they were some sort of insect, a curiosity to be catalogued and prodded in experimentation!
The professor paused, taking a swig of water from a nondescript plastic bottle before continuing, “All right, I will help you out on this one. Governments in the mid-1700s were not renowned for being the most ethical. The idea of human rights was only just beginning to be explored in various pockets throughout the planet at that time. The rights of an actively plagued people with a potentially magically dangerous disease did not rank high on the rights priority list for the leaders of Arcanton at the time.” She flicked through some photos of past senators of the era.
“Therefore, they used magic, one more time, to install a rogue faction amongst the Narisis. Enter the informant line. A daring mother-daughter duo volunteered for the task of emigrating to Nar and upholding Arcanton’s objectives on the island. Perseverance Magne and her daughter Lana, who was later renamed Solitude, when they were chosen for the mission to Nar. With the help of some of the most genius memory changers in the known world at the time, Perseverance and Solitude were smuggled into the very fabric of the island life. The natives’ memories were altered so that they had no idea Perseverance and her daughter had not always been there in their little homestead on the outskirts of the isle.” The lecturer flipped to an aerial shot of Deliverance’s homestead.
Deliverance gripped the armrests of her chair violently. Luckily, no one was sitting as far back as she and took no notice of her.
“They were the first in a long family line of Narisi informers who worked with the Arcanton government to shape the narrative on Nar. This responsibility was handed down from generation, from mother to daughter, until the 2080s. Does anyone know why there was a break in the tradition?”
Another sharply dressed, Frankish-braided student raised her hand and was called upon.
“Because the University of Oxdale managed to obtain full control over the informant program from the Arcanton government in a gesture of good academic will a decade before and then…well, the picture happened.”
“Precisely!” the professor exclaimed, pointing at the braided girl, who looked smartly around at her peers. “The Oxdale-Senate Treatise of 2079 gave control of the informant program over entirely to the university, whereas before we just had an advisory role. It was meant as an olive branch between the government and the university—as you all know, we have a long history of butting heads.”
This comment garnered a few chuckles from the crowd. Deliverance did not chuckle. How could they be sitting here, discussing her home as if it were some kind of science experiment!?
“Now we get into the modern morality of it all,” the professor continued. The slides became generic pictures of various technological innovations. “Modern medicine. Xrays, MRIs, vaccines…cures for horrible diseases that used to plague our society. They have been all but eradicated…but not on Nar. Forget your cellphones, your internet, your languages, your education. We’re talking about mere survival here, people!” Deliverance could tell the professor was getting a rise out of the students. They sat forward. “So, is it moral to keep all that from these people?” she asked. “Well? Let’s hear some opinions!”
A girl with ebony skin and fluffy pigtails raised her hand this time. “The government seems to think so, in order to keep their plague—which was proven in the 80s to still be active—quarantined.”
“Ah, yes. That is what the Arcanton government thinks. And they are prepared to enforce such with military power. But what do you think?” The professor prompted.
“No?” a girl with slick, shiny black hair and almond shaped eyes answered tentatively. She gulped, then continued, “No, because they should know what the outside world is. We have been lying to them for generations!”
“Yes, but that is to preserve the quarantine without violence or the spread of disease,” another student chimed in.
“Is death by gunfire or fire breathing any different from death by early childhood illness?” Yet another challenger piped up.
Visions of stillbirths and dead infants Deliverance had personally swaddled in their grave clothes flashed before her eyes.
“But we read all about their culture last semester. It’s positively medieval how they treat their women! Totally barbaric!”
The voices swirled around Deliverance like fireflies on a summer’s eve.
“Yes, you there in the back. Do you have something to add?” the professor said, squinting against the overhead lights. Deliverance realized she had raised her hand.
“Yes…I…why is the disease considered so dangerous?” she stammered, aware of eyes registering she was one more student in the room.
“Now that is the fundamental question now, isn’t it Miss…?”
“Deliverance.”
“Miss Deliverance has asked a pertinent question. Why is it we fear the Narisi plague so much?” the professor asked her students.
“Because they can steal magical powers?” answered one student while another called out, “Because the
men are totally impotent of magic and no one wants to risk that.”
“Again, partially correct. The men are considered genetically incapable of any magic. But is magic so necessary in today’s society? Show of hands, who has actually used their gifts today?” The professor polled the crowd. Only a couple students raised their hands. “It seems modern technology provides a certain amount of gift-spanning equality, does it not? Okay, so let’s assume our problem is not with the men, but the women.”
“Because we don’t know?” One student hazarded after a lull of silence.
“Bingo! That is precisely why the Narisi problem set is considered so dangerous. We do not have enough data to make informed decisions about how their magical malady would affect us on a large scale. Which is one reason this incident,” the professor flicked back yet again to the image of younger Cat a sea, “caused such a scandal. People fear what they do not know. And fear is a very dangerous thing indeed. And time’s up for today. Study up for the next lecture. I do not want to have to pull answers out of you, people!”
Deliverance blinked as the lights flickered on, and the crowd began to filter out of the room.
“Deliverance?” Jack’s voice came to her from somewhere behind. Had he been there the whole time? She sat rigid as a board, shaking with fury.
“Deliverance, come on. We have to go,” he said gently, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.
“Is that what you meant!? By Nar being a complex problem!” She whirled around, trembling with rage. “We’re prisoners! Kept there on that island, isolated from everything, oppressed and sick and dying young all because of people’s fear! And my family has helped secure that terrible legacy for hundreds of years!”
“Hey, come on. Let’s get some fresh air,” Jack coaxed her, but Deliverance was not having it.
“And you! You are a part of the Arcanton government! Are you a supporter of this so-called quarantine?” She zeroed in on him with pent up rage.
His eyes flickered darkly. “No. I am not. If you have forgotten in the past half hour, I am on your side. YOUR SIDE. Now, let’s get out of here before you attract unwanted attention.”
She wanted to argue. To scream. To beat her fists. But he was right. They could not stay here.
The midmorning air was a tonic to her nerves. She pulled in deep gulps of it, resting her hands on her knees.
“Hey…” Jack prodded her gently.
She looked up at him. No, he was not the target of her ire. At least, she was fairly certain he was not, although she had little knowledge of the inner workings of the Arcanton government.
“It’s all right. I’m fine,” she said, straightening.
“Well that’s amazing. ’Cause I wouldn’t be if I were you,” he said. She regarded him, feeling something in her putting emotional distance between them…a protective barrier.
“It was all very…jarring. But I will manage. I’ve made it through being lost at sea, kidnapped by pirates, skydiving, and a ball at your aunt’s. This is just one more hurdle,” she answered resolutely.
He smiled approvingly at her. “That’s my girl.”
No, I might not be, Deliverance thought silently to herself as she fingered the ring still on her finger while she followed him across the mall.
CHAPTER 20
Jack
It had been a shock to find her squirreled away in the back of a lecture hall listening to a lecture on Nar, no less. It must have been more of a shock for her. He did not regret standing silently by while she absorbed the lecture. The better the picture she had, the better off she would be. He could’ve strangled the lecturer though…Dr. Phillips. Self-righteous academic sort. Thought she was too smart for the normal people who made their way in the real world, not surrounded by the fortress of the academic ivory tower. She made the Arcanton government out to be one big entity, an all-consuming blob that smashed the world under its heels.
Granted, the unflattering parts of their history had been accurate. And there were still many—a slight majority in fact, of all the damnable obstacles—who were stuck in their old ways. Ways of fear and oppression. Jack was certain Deliverance did not have a good concept of how the Republic was run, and he was determined to show her the process. Checks and balances, parties, freedom of the vote, elections…these were all concepts foreign to the girl.
There were two sides to every story though. In this case Lord Asher represented an entirely other side, which would not improve Deliverance’s outlook. Jack frowned grimly. Events had not unfolded in the way he’d hoped they would today, but at least they were getting the worst out of the way. Then they could begin the real work. He slid a glance over his shoulder and saw Deliverance trodding gravely behind him, mouth set in a firm, thin line. He felt her pull away instantly, armor herself against him and against the world. Hopefully he had not lost her entirely. His heart gave a painful squeeze at this thought, but he soldiered on. That was, after all, what he was.
***
Deliverance
Tucked away in the corner of the expansive kelly-green mall, mowed in checkered patterns, was a Victorian era house with gables and gingerbread trim. It was not, however, a living quarters but another of the school’s offices.
“Apparently Lord Asher has confiscated the building entirely for himself and his research,” Jack remarked dryly as they climbed the creaking steps to the veranda. The glass doors entering into the house had been inscribed with another professor’s name and credentials, but someone had taken red spray paint and blotted the etched lettering out. Under it was a hastily taped sign in handwritten marker stating: “Office hours: never! Go away!”
Jack grunted when he looked at the sign and as they passed through the door, surreptitiously swiped the sign off the door and crumpled it. As he tossed it into the bushes he said “Oops” in an innocent tone. They must have a complicated relationship, Lord Asher and Jack, Deliverance thought.
The entryway of the old structure had been well maintained, but its contents were now covered in a thin layer of dust. There were no lights other than what was leaking through the grimy windows.
“Now where could he be…” Jack mused. All of a sudden, a loud crash came from overhead. “Ah…that’s where he be. Come along.”
They took the double flight of stairs to the second level of the house and followed the racket to a closed door. The sound of smashing glass ricocheted out from under the draft in the oaken door.
Jack traded a look with Deliverance and then said, “Maybe you should wait here for a second.” She nodded in agreement.
Jack squared his shoulders, rapped twice on the mottled glass of the door, but did not wait for a call to enter. He let himself in and shut the door behind him. Deliverance could hear their conversation clearly.
“What! Who’s there…? Oh, it’s just you, Jack. Why the devil do you have to sneak around like that?” A gravelly voice arose.
“I knocked. You probably couldn’t hear it over all this racket. What on earth are you doing, man?”
“What? Oh, this is research.”
“Right…it looks like a bloody mess.”
“All part of the scientific process.”
“Is denying office hours part of the scientific process as well?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. Need time…and quiet for research. All those damn students are so noisy. Did you take my sign down again? You did, didn’t you?”
“Even with all your tenure, you ought to at least attempt having office hours at some point.”
“Why? My students are doing just fine.”
“That’s because you never hold class…and you give them all top marks for effort.”
“See? The system works fine. Now unless you have something pertinent to say, Jack, I really must—”
“Pertinent? Pertinent! Have you bloody well forgotten about your responsibilities on the Nar project!?”
“What…no…it’s just…it is at an impasse. You know that. Unless you can persuade more senators to see your view then there is not a whole lot to be done. Now, Antarticus…there is a geographic region prime for research…no bloody restrictions and no politicians interested in it. Perfect. No offense, Jack…well maybe slightly some offense.”
“So, you just abandon all interest because of a small road block? I’ve been hard at work on my end persuading and wheeling and dealing. With my calculations I just lack the backing of one senator. Do you hear me, Asher? One! We’re almost there!”
“Ah…that is nice.”
“Damn it, man. Stop avoiding this issue! In fact, you cannot avoid it. Not anymore. Your damn escapades have come back to bite you in the ass and the biter is waiting just outside these doors!”
“What do you mean?” A note of panic hit the other voice in the room.
“Come on in!” Jack called cavalierly to Deliverance, through the doors.
Intrepidly, she stepped into the room. Jack was right. It was a bloody mess in here. Papers and books were stacked floor to ceiling throughout the lab space, broken glass littered the floor, and a Bunsen burner was spewing some odd purple concoction out all over the exposed floorboards. In the back of the room entire library shelves were filled with identical looking glass jars, labeled, with green, luminescent swirls flitting about inside them like the swirls of freshly poured cream in tea. Behind one of the tables stood an imposing man. Or at least he would have been if he did not have spectacles on which made his pupils absurdly huge. He looked like a Great Horned Owl with his salt and pepper locks standing at all ends and his stained lab coat disheveled. He had a curved, aristocratic nose, and Deliverance could see tufts of slate colored chest hair peeking out from under the man’s rumpled collared shirt. So, this was Lord Asher.
Deliverance Page 20