Betrayals (32 page)

“You’re looking a little better,” a voice offered, the words on the hesitant side. “If you’re not in the mood for conversation just say so, and I’ll take my rest period from cooking somewhere else.”

“No, I’ve had my fill of silence,” Lorand replied, looking up at the man who now stood near him. “Conversation is more than welcome … You are Meerk, aren’t you? You don’t sound like the man I knew, but you certainly look like him.”

“Alsin Meerk,” he replied with a nod and a faint smile as he sat beside Lorand. “Tamrissa said almost the same thing, and I had to explain that my former mode of speech was in the way of a disguise. People pay less attention to those who sound uneducated, which is a prejudice most of us suffer from. As though the uneducated are less able to do us real good or real harm.”

“With a basic education free for the taking, anyone who refuses to take advantage of it is less able to do good or harm,” Lorand pointed out. “And that goes for themselves as well as for others. Are you feeling any better now?”

“Not really,” Meerk answered with a sigh, picking up a twig to toy with. “First I find out that the nobility likes the ideas of my organization, and then I discover that the basic philosophy of my life is wrong. It still doesn’t actually feel wrong, but with so many people supporting the opposite point of view, it has to be.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your philosophy, just with the place you’re trying to apply it,” Lorand replied, understanding the man’s depression. “I’ve always preferred the peaceful way of doing things, but some things can’t be accomplished unless you’re willing to take a stronger stance. I had the best talent in my family, and my father didn’t like the idea of losing that talent for his farm. Since he enjoyed his life he decided that it would also be best for me, which was a horribly selfish way to look at it. He wanted something, so I was supposed to want it, too. When it was time for me to leave I tried to keep things peaceful, but he refused to let me do it.”

“My father was a farrier,” Meerk said, still paying most of his attention to the twig in his hands. “I was supposed to be the same, and I probably would have been if my father had lived. It just wasn’t possible to say no to the man, and that made me detest all those who simply gave orders without caring about the people who were getting those orders. Being pushed around by someone bigger also made me swear that I would never do the same. And that’s what using force to depose the nobles feels like, pushing around people who can’t stand up to you.”

“That’s where the misapplication comes in,” Lorand pointed out, giving most of his own attention to the delight of feeling the rain on his face. “Since it’s the nobility who are and have been doing the pushing around, you’re the one who’s wrong by telling them that they should be doing things your way. Instead of acting like both our fathers and trying to tell them how to behave, you should simply be agreeing to use the method they prefer. What else could be more fair?”

“You’re making excuses,” Meerk returned with a snort that wasn’t quite laughter.“If we condemn them for the methods they use, we’d have to condemn ourselves if we used them as well. Two groups of people doing wrong has never been able to make a situation right.”

“Now you’re the one making excuses,” Lorand said, turning his head to inspect the man. “If you find it easier to watch peoples’ lives being destroyed than to have someone call you a dirty name, you’re not being noble, you’re rationalizing. Why don’t you just simply say it isn’t in you to fight no matter what the provocation? That isn’t as noble as having ‘principles,’ but at least it’s the truth.”

“So I’m less of a man because I don’t believe in fighting?” Meerk demanded, also turning his head. “That seems to be everyone’s opinion, everyone’s but mine! Why is a man always defined by how willing he is to fight?”

“Only someone who’s ashamed of what he is looks at it that way,” Lorand said slowly and clearly, trying to make the man believe him. “If you’re not a fighter there’s nothing to be ashamed of, since it’s the nonfighters who hold our civilization together. But by the same token it’s the fighters who carve out that civilization to begin with, so if you want people to stop giving you a hard time for being a nonfighter, stop giving them a hard time for not sharing your point of view.”

Meerk stared at Lorand, his expression saying there was more to argue about but he didn’t quite know where to begin. Then an interruption came which ended the conversation for a time.

“I don’t believe those people,” Tamrissa muttered as she came over to seat herself under the canopy near them. She carried a cup of tea and was being careful not to spill it. “Do you believe that some of them are demanding to be taken back to Gan Garee? They’ve decided that this all has to be some sort of mistake, and they want to go back to get it straightened out.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Meerk said, now sounding distracted. “I’ve heard of people who were arrested and tried and sentenced to the deep mines who refused to believe that it was actually happening to them. Those people were awake through the whole process, and they still refused to believe. What can you expect of people who were put to sleep without warning and are only now waking up?”

“I expect them to take the word of the people who are trying to save them,” Tamrissa replied, the statement slow and cold. “I also expect them to pitch in and help with those who aren’t yet awake, not sit there and demand to be taken care of. Jovvi and I just walked away, because Rion and Valiant’s patient explanations— repeated patient explanations—were getting on our nerves.”

“Maybe it’s time to do something else for a while,” Lorand mused, his attention having been taken by one of their sleeping prisoners. “That guardsman over there is beginning to wake up, so why don’t we ask who the leader of this convoy is? Then we can wake that one up, and ask a few other questions.”

“Let me get Jovvi before you do that,” Tamrissa said, starting to get to her feet. “With Grath having been put to sleep to save her the trouble of keeping him under control, she can take control of the convoy leader instead.”

“There, you see what I mean?” Meerk said after letting out a sharp breath, his accusing gaze on Lorand again. “None of us likes the idea of being controlled, but we don’t hesitate to do it to others. If that isn’t wrong, I don’t know what is.”

“Then let me tell you what is,” Tamrissa said to Meerk just as sharply before Lorand could reply. “Wrong is taking innocent people and destroying their lives because you’re afraid of them. Wrong is keeping everything good for yourself and your friends, and leaving nothing for the people who work hardest to produce that good. Wrong is refusing to do whatever it takes to change that horrible condition, simply because you’re too good to fight fire with fire. I’ll live with being called bad, if that’s the terrible price I have to pay to save people from having to go through what we suffered. If you can’t live with it, I just feel sorry for you.”

Meerk stared up at her for a moment, his expression wounded and vulnerable, then he was on his feet and striding away. Lorand briefly looked after him, then shook his head.

“I think friend Meerk is feeling outnumbered,” he said to Tamrissa, who was also watching Meerk’s disappearance. “He and I were having the same sort of argument just before you got here, but I don’t expect that either of us changed his mind. If you feel guilty about not being willing to fight, you seem to be compelled to find reasons why fighting is wrong for everyone else as well. Why can’t people just pay attention to their own lives, and leave everyone else’s alone?”

“They say misery loves company, so possibly that’s the reason,” Tamrissa replied after taking a deep breath. “I think I’m getting to the point where I don’t know anything for certain any longer … I’ll go get Jovvi.”

Lorand nodded, then watched her walk away toward the third wagon, still carrying her cup of tea. She paid no attention at all to the rain, even though it was getting closer to sundown. It would soon be too chilly to enjoy being damp, even just on faces and hands. But there were only the people in the last two wagons who still had to be cleared of the lethe, and some of them were already sitting up and trying to come out of it on their own. Once that major chore was done, they could see about setting up rainproof accommodations for everyone.

Jovvi came out of the wagon slowly and carefully, but she seemed to be doing at least as well as Lorand was if not better. There was joy for Lorand in just sitting and watching her, though he would have enjoyed a few minutes of privacy with her even more. He couldn’t yet think about how close he’d come to losing her to some horrible, nameless fate, not without being filled with the most terrible rage. What had been done to him might eventually be overlooked and forgotten about, but what they’d almost done to the woman he loved… No, Lorand wasn’t about to come around to Meerk’s way of looking at things.

“Well, don’t just sit there being lazy,” Jovvi said to him with a smile when she and Tamrissa stopped near him. “If we’re going to do some questioning, let’s do it.”

“At your service, dama,” he replied with a grin, then patted the tarpaulin to his left. “Sit and join me, and we can have the ones we question come to us. It’s the least they can do, since they’re the ones responsible for making us feel like this.”

“That’s a good idea,” she agreed with a small laugh. “Except for one thing: they’re all chained in place. If we have one of them come over, the rest have to come with him.”

“All right, then I suppose we’ll have to do the going,” Lorand pretended to complain as he levered himself to his feet. “Let’s get it over with, so we can come back and sit down again.”

Jovvi nodded with complete understanding and agreement, and also took his hand as they walked toward the unconscious guardsmen. Tamrissa walked with them, of course, still holding her cup of tea. The guardsman who was struggling to awaken was in the far row in the center, so Lorand stopped and prodded at him just a little with his talent.

“This is the one we want to ask the first question of,” he said. “Did you catch his reaction?”

“I certainly did,” she agreed, then turned her head to look over at Tamrissa. “Tamma, dear, would you be so kind as to ask the questions once I have him and the next one under control? I’m really too tired to do it myself, and I think Lorand is in the same condition.”

“I’ll also try to make it as short as possible, so you two can rest for a while,” Tamrissa agreed, putting her hand briefly to Jovvi’s arm. “Go ahead and get started, so we can be finished faster.”

Jovvi smiled her agreement, and a moment later they had the identity of the leader of the convoy. Lorand put the guardsman back to sleep, and they all walked the five feet to where the leader lay. There was a difference in the collar decorations of his uniform, which was obviously supposed to tell people that he was in charge, but Lorand and the others hadn’t the least idea of what any of the insignia meant. This man was one of those whom Lorand had had to put more deeply asleep, so now he reversed the process and then Jovvi took over. That became clear when the man sat up, looking at Tamrissa expectantly.

“You were in charge of this convoy?” Tamrissa started with, returning the man’s gaze coolly. “If so, tell me where it was going.”

“Yes, I am in charge,” the man corrected at once, very little friendliness to be seen in his manner. “Our destination was and still is Quellin.” _

“What’s at Quellin?” Tamrissa asked next, apparently having no interest in arguing with the man. “And I’m also curious about where it is, so tell me everything you know about the place.”

“Quellin is a small town built up around the depot we’re taking these segments to,” the man replied with a nod. “It lies less than a full day’s travel from here, along the northwest fork. The Rolris Fork, as you ought to know, is about four hours up the road, and it branches southwest and northwest for a while before both roads turn westerly again.”

“I know the Rolris Fork!” Lorand exclaimed, interrupting the narration. “I came to Gan Garee from along the southwest branch, which isn’t more than two days from my home district.”

“It’s the northwest fork I’ve been asked about,” the convoy leader said with mild reproof in his voice. “Quellin is the main depot from which our army has segments supplied, and where they’re sent from there depends on where they’re needed the most.”

“I thought the empire didn’t have an army,” Tamrissa said, abruptly forgetting about the sip of tea she’d been about to take. “If we do and it needs … segments, what is it using them for?”

“It’s using them for the purpose of extending our borders, of course,” the man replied, making it sound as though Tamrissa were totally ignorant and innocent. “The barbarians of Astinda, our neighboring realm to the west, are trying to resist becoming civilized, and we certainly can’t allow that. So our army takes their realm a few miles and acres at a time, and soon there won’t be anything left that isn’t part of our empire.”

“Are they doing the same with Gracely to the east?” Jovvi put in, apparently forgetting about how tired she was supposed to be.

“Of course,” the man answered, still using that same superior tone of voice. “No empire that intends to survive will allow itself to be surrounded by barbarians. Once they’re all under our control, our safety will be assured.”

“Is that the way you make what our people are doing a good and acceptable thing?” Tamrissa asked, anger clear in her voice. “By calling anyone who isn’t part of our empire a barbarian? Just how barbaric are they supposed to be? What do they do to earn the name of barbarian?”

“That isn’t any of my concern,” the man returned, the expression on his middle-aged face totally uncaring. “My superiors tell me they’re barbarians in those places, and I have no reason to doubt that. I only care about what’s best for my own country, and leaving potential enemies free to cause trouble isn’t in my country’s best interests.”

“How do you know they’d become our enemies?” Lorand was forced to put in himself, just as disturbed as the women were. “And how do you know that they’d make trouble? No, don’t bother answering me, I already know what the real answer is. Your … superiors want to take over their countries, and as the people there probably tried to resist, that makes them enemies. So what are we going to do about all this? Just because they won’t have this group of us to fight for them, that won’t do anything to stop them from using the people they’ve already taken control of.”