Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Mother Speaks (5 page)

I turned to the ork to ask him why I was here. "Do not speak," he said firmly, but not curtly.

I remained silent.

The doors of the great hall opened, and the Overgovernor swept in, still carrying the stone scepter. His robes billowed around him as his brisk steps carried him past me and up the hall toward the throne. When he reached it, he twirled around and dropped into it, almost playfully.

"Bring her to me!" he shouted. Not waiting for the guard's prodding, I began to walk up the hall.

Against the dark wood and dark throne, the Overgovernor's pale flesh seemed ghastly; dead flesh just short of decaying. He smiled at me, his pale lips pulled back in what seemed a parody of pleasure. But when he spoke I realized he truly was happy. The grotesqueness of his appearance was just the way he happened to look. And more than that: the more I looked at him, the more I realized he was, in fact, attractive. But his attractiveness was of such an extreme degree that it seemed almost inhuman. His face was perfectly symmetrical, an anomaly in most faces; his features as cleanly drawn as if molded from smooth, shiny clay. His white flesh seemed bleached to whiteness, as if to prevent any blemish.

"You know Samael and Torran?"

This stranger speaking the names of my boys with a familiar tone made my knees weak.

It was as if you two had lived a whole different life from the one we had known together.

The ork behind me said softly, "Speak now."

"Yes. They are my boys. My children." I clenched my hand, trying to stay focused and strong.

The Overgovernor tapped the scepter against his open palm “Yes. I thought as much. I wanted to tell you something.” I nodded, suddenly thinking that he might be about to say something wonderful to me. Was he about to let me see you again?

"Put them out of your mind."

My mouth hung open, loose and useless.

"Now, now. They'll be safe." He smiled a strange smile. "I won't let anything happen to them."

"I'm sorry," I said. "But what do you... ? What do you mean put them out of my mind?"

"Just that. Put them out of your mind. It may sound harsh, but you will not be seeing them again. It's better for you..."

"Just put them out of my mind?”

"Your life will be hard enough as it is. I'm just trying to...”

"They're just boys," I pleaded. "Little boys. How can you make them prisoners?"

“I promise you, they will be well cared for."

"They're slaves!"

He sighed as if he'd heard it all too many times before. "Yes, that is what they are. You, their mother, committed a crime of some sort or other, and so they were enslaved. The children had to be looked after..."

"What do you mean, I committed a crime?"

"Well, you wouldn't have been enslaved if you had not committed a crime. That is Theran law."

"My entire village was attacked. My entire village consisted of criminals? All the people who had grown up together, raised families together, helped each other—we were all criminals? What crime did we commit?"

He looked flustered for just a moment, then said, "I don't have the records here. I don't know the village..."

"Yeras."

He glowered at me. "I'm not familiar with it, actually.”

"Then how do you know—"

"We depend on local authorities to convict..."

"The slavers convicted us?"

"No. The slavers simply gathered you..."

"Who convicted us?"

"We depend on local authorities...

"You took the word of people who attack and enslave other people for a living?"

"I'm not here to argue the point, woman. I lust wanted to tell you your boys will be safe."

"What do you mean by that? You keep saying that."

He paused, uncertain if he wanted to share a secret with me. Then he smiled and stepped down the dais toward me. "They're twins, you see. Twins..."

"You've lost a great deal of the ancient lore, here in Barsaive, and part of that lost lore involves twins. Not a spell that can be cast. But something deeper. More mysterious."

The guard moved subtly, as if trying to warn his liege away from danger. "What does it matter, Yerv? She loves them. What will she do?"

"What are you... ?"

"Look. Twins are magical, and that magic is enhanced with proper rituals. I've bonded with your boys. They're mine now. As long as they remain perfect twins I am charmed.

Not indestructible, mind you, but the ill fates of life and death that should befall me will be held at bay. I just... I just wanted to thank you. For bearing them. You yourself are a special woman for such an act."

My tone became deathly level. "I'm not a special woman. I'm a mother. And I want my boys back. You're treating them like animals..."

"No. Them I will treat as honored guests. The rest of you I will treat like animals." There was no clever malice in his voice when he said this. Just a statement of plain fact. He turned from me, clearly disappoint that I didn't share his enthusiasm, and sat back down on the throne.

"How can you enslave people?"

"It doesn't appeal to me, actually," he said, dropping his tone. "It's a terrible thing. But our economy depends on it. Our politics depend on it. Our continued existence depends on it."

"But they are name-givers. They are your equals in life. It's abominable."

"Yes. I've said as much. But I will do nothing to stop it. Do you know why? Because it works, and we will make the lands we conquer quite comfortable for us. Many people will suffer at our hands, but then we won't be suffering at their hands." He looked away, then at me again. "Anyway, there it is. I'm sorry you can't accept the facts as they are.

Your boys are no longer yours. I just thought... If you try to put them out of your head...

Don't harbor hopes of trying to get them back. Your life will be easier."

11

A windowless barrack waited for me on the platform, as dark as the large cell I'd woken up in, and the ork ushered me inside. As he shut the door, J'role leaped up and cut across the room toward me. He moved so that the ork did not see him move, but by the time darkness had shrouded the room once more, he stood beside me.

"J'role?"

"Shhh," he said softly.

"What...?"

"Shhh."

I raised my right hand to his and pulled him close. Instinctively he embraced me. His hug sent lancing pain through my burned flesh, and I gasped.

He pulled his body away, still holding my hand, and asked me if I was all right. His hand held mine lightly, as if it had little strength. When he spoke, it was in a whisper as dry and cracked as burnt wood from an evening fire.

"I know where the boys are," I said. "There on that flying castle. The Overgovernor has taken them as pets." I then told him everything the Overgovernor had told me about his charm. When finished, I asked, "Have you tried to escape?"

He was a silent a moment, then said, "It's hard here. No shadows except here. I've tried twice. Caught. Beaten. They do things to us. Beat us."

"Who was the elf you spoke to? The one you switched with."

He sat us down on the cool stone floor. "One of the few people here I could talk to."

"What?"

"Many languages. Talking is hard here. Therans, they pull people from all over the empire. We're not allowed to talk... even if we know same language. And the Overgovernor pulls people aside. Tells people they'll be freed if they report to him."

"Report to him?"

" 'Are people talking?' 'Have you heard any plans for escape?' Anything of interest. Fear lives with us. We don't know who we can trust."

The way J'role spoke worried me. His uncertain words and cracked sentences coming out of utter darkness turned him into someone else. Never, in all his years of odd behavior, had he seemed so different. He had only been here a month, yet they had broken him completely.

I took his hand. "What happened? What happened to you?"

"Left our home and followed castle. Days. Rode up and saw slaves building this platform.

Mining platform, for elemental air. I approached the castle. Soldiers came to me.

Escorted me to castle to meet Povelis. To have dinner with him. Pompous ass. Other people—farmers, people from Vivane there, too. He asked me to be his clown. I refused.

I asked about slaves. He said they only slave criminals who break Theran law. But they buy slaves from people who sell them. Left. Riding out, saw an old man being whipped to death. By Redbeard. To death. Bloody strips of flesh sliding off the muscles of his back. The old man was... on his hands and knees. Screaming. Other slaves stood and stared. I said I'd take the old man if they didn't want him anymore. If they were going to kill him anyway, I'd take him. I pleaded. They said he was an example. I tried to rescue him. Rode in and tried to grab him. Almost made it. Had him on Jester. We rode. Soldiers chased us. Magic lances and spears cut into my back. We fell. Old man died. Jester died."

He paused, half laughed. "You know. I saw old man clearly when we fell to the ground, our faces near. He wasn't old at all. Boy, younger than me by five years. I could see it in his eyes. They'd ruined him."

A silence fell between us. We sat and held hands. Around us I heard the soft whispers of others talking softly. A man crying. A soft moan. "We have to escape," I said.

He said nothing, but I imagined he nodded.

"We have to find our boys."

He began crying softly. "Our boys. I was so worried about you and the boys..."

"J'role. Listen. We have to escape."

He stifled his tears. "Yes. Yes. We have to find them." Then a deep tone of resolution filled his voice. "We have to save our boys." The quick change of emotion frightened me, for it seemed like so many of his words and actions, inspired only by the moment, as shallow as a brook. I wanted his sentiments as deep as the lava of Death's Sea.

"Can you get through the lock?"

"No lock. It's something I've never seen before. No knob. Nothing."

"Can we get the help of others?"

"No."

"What are they going to do with us?"

"We're going on the ships to mine for elemental air.”

“We could take over the ship." J'role snorted derisively.

I felt a strong impulse to ignore him, to leave him to his despair and to proceed without his help. But I knew if I could bring the old J'role back, he would help me immeasurably.

And the story of his capture, how he had tried to save the boy from death... There is something, my sons, true and good about your father, despite everything.

"J'role," I said. "We escaped from the elf queen together. We found Parlainth together.

We can take over a Theran ship."

"Releana. They are different than anything else. They are Therans."

"And we are parents," I insisted. "We're going to find our boys."

12

The next day armored guards led us out of the darkness into the glaring sunlight.

The slave master—Redbeard, J'role called him— cracked his whip at us. At first I remained resolute not to let the man make me flinch as the others so readily did. I kept my spine straight and my face expressionless, forcing myself not to react. But then the whip's tip cracked against my back. I jumped forward, the pain ripping through my flesh.

I thought for certain Redbeard would whip me again, but he didn't. He moved down the group, continuing to crack the whip. Most of the time, he struck no one.

When he had gone down the line, he returned, coming closer and closer. I stared ahead, not wanting to give him the pleasure of my attention. As he passed he snapped the whip against me. Again I jumped and cried out.

I did not want him to whip me again, and was terribly afraid he would. He was behind me, and I waited and waited for the snap of the whip. It never came. But now I was not so certain of my ability to avoid flinching.

They led us to a swaying gangplank of wooden slats stretched over rope, with rope railings on either side. The forty of us walked across to the gangplank and onto the stone ship.

I smile as I write these words, for I remember that despite the pain and worry I felt at that moment, a sensation of wonder overcome me as I stepped onto the stone deck.

How strange that our sense of wonder remains alive even during the darkest of times. I had never been on an airship before, and had only seen them in the sky once or twice in my whole life. As I stepped onto the ship, the same tickling of my soul occurred as when I cast my first spell and a golden flame sprouted from my palm.

The boat swayed slightly, and I looked to J'role. We had made sure several people stood between us, for he had explained that the Therans would immediately separate any two people who seemed to have made some sort of contact. As he stepped onto the boat he smiled slightly and lifted his head, pleased. His gaze met mine, and we allowed ourselves the exchange of a subtle smile. A strange moment, for we had not shared such enjoyment for years. That kind of smile, given in shared wonder— like the strange experience of stepping onto a flying ship made of stone—was what had drawn me to your father to begin with. It was that kind of smile that had made me want to spend the rest of my life with him.

As we quickly turned away from each other, lest any of the Therans spot our brief connection, I wondered what had happened to J'role's smile. I had not seen it for years.

Then I realized the smile had never left. I simply had not been around him during his adventures. I never discovered with him the surprises the Universe held.

They led us along the deck to a door built into the central forecastle. Then down a set of stairs to a lower deck illuminated by glowing spheres of moss. After two more flights of stairs we reached the lowest deck on the ship. Only a few moss lanterns, dim and aged, illuminated the corridors. The walls were rough and streaked with smoke from torchlight.

The corridor ended in a doorway, and through the door a long room with ten benches on the starboard and port sides of the ship. Each bench sat next to an opening in the hull, through which extended oars. The imitation of seagoing vessels would move us through the air.