Joel Shepherd - Tracato

“It stems from institutions, such as my own. Institutions that work in opposition to the native Rhodaani character. To the native human character, if you will. People are cruel, Lady Rhillian. Humans, anyhow. We fight and we bicker, and if not for the firm hand of a higher authority, we would do each other such harm as could not be imagined by the cool minds of serrin. Beware what you have unleashed, dear girl. Do not trust it. I am glad, in truth, to see a serrin leading such an effort, however wary of the effort itself I may be. But you should never, ever trust the native instincts of the power-lusting mobs beneath you.”

Rhillian nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Sinidane looked pained. “Sometimes I wonder if serrin truly do understand what they have done, here in the so-called Saalshen Bacosh. When Maldereld came to us, and brought with her the enlightenment of thousands of years of serrin wisdom, we were but savages, in truth. We believed in lies, we had eyes but could not see, we had minds but could not think, we murdered on a whim and felt naught for the consequences. Such savages threaten us today, from across the Steel border, and we look across that border and we are pleased to be so much more enlightened than them.

“But in truth, I do not think we are. This…this civilisation, that the serrin have helped us to construct, and the thinking that attends it…this is not the natural state of humankind. Or not, at least, from where we have just recently come. Left to our own devices, perhaps we could have achieved this sophistication in…oh, I would guess a thousand years?” Sinidane’s fingers dug into her arm, with an almost painful grip from one so old. “Do you see what serrin have done here? You have accelerated us. You have taken a tribe of barbarians and dressed us up in pretty clothes, and taught us table manners and polite behaviour. And we are such good actors that when it works, it seems wonderful. Yet underneath, the barbarian still lurks…never doubt it! In some ways we have truly changed, yet in our hearts, we are not so advanced as serrin would like to have made us. We are children in adults’ clothing, grown up before our time.”

Rhillian took the old man’s hand, gently. “I understand. This was our experiment, in human lands. But we have achieved it together, human and serrin, and now we must defend it together. Have no fear of my naivety, Chief Justiciar. I have seen Petrodor, and the War of the King. I trust no one.” She smiled. “Not even you.”

Sinidane smiled back, and patted her hand with a sigh. “Well enough. But, dear girl, know this. I would give my life for Saalshen. Coming from one so near the grave as I, that is perhaps no great offer, yet even so, I would throw myself upon the spears of Saalshen’s enemies should it serve the purposes of Saalshen’s survival. Everything that is good about Rhodaan, you have given us. You are humanity’s greatest hope, and I despair that so many are ungrateful. I fear that we do not deserve you.”

Rhillian recalled Master Deani, of Palopy House in Petrodor. He had said to her much the same, in those final, desperate moments of siege and fire. Palopy was now a ruin, and Deani was dead, with so many others. Only she and Kiel had survived. She would not see such a fate befall Sinidane and his beloved Justiciary. She understood human power so much better now, for the lessons she’d learned in Petrodor.

Rhillian kissed the old man’s hand. “I am your servant, Chief Justiciar. Never doubt it.”

She escorted Sinidane out to the Justiciary grand hall once more. His page walked with him back to chambers, while Rhillian cornered Lieutenant Raine.

“I need evidence of the feudalists’ plot,” she told him in a low voice. “The Chief Justice is well disposed to us in that he is ill disposed toward the feudalists, but he is a man of principle and will not deviate from the law. We need proof.”

Raine ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. In the war in Elisse, he had proven to be one of the Steel’s best. “I have all available men on the task, yet our powers to gather evidence are limited. I cannot trust the Blackboots, half are paid men of the feudalists, and the other half are scared of those who are. My men are soldiers, good at killing the enemy and little more. What you ask is Blackboot work, law and evidence. It may be beyond them.”

“What of the city guard?”

“Hired soldiers, ordinary folk with ordinary values, neither good nor bad. Most are country folk though, so little sympathy for the feudalists there.”

Rhillian nodded. “Use them more, to free up the Steel. Pay them more, if necessary. Find those sympathetic to our cause to help gather evidence. Make a list of the most troublesome Blackboots.”

“I’d suggest we expand that list to red-coats and administrators, too. Feudalist money has bought powerful friends all through Tracato. I’d suggest a purge.”

Rhillian did not like the way that sounded. And yet, she recalled what she’d only now insisted to Sinidane, of the lessons she’d learned in Petrodor, and the hardening of her heart. “Yes,” she agreed. “Find me names first, and we’ll move from there.”

“What of the priesthood?”

“What of them?”

“Who do you think has been paying for all their holy trinkets and Saint Ciala’s Day festivities?”

“Noble gold. I’m not at all certain I can purge the priesthood, Lieutenant. But some nasty gossip could work as well, I’m certainly not above blackmail.”

“No shortage of that,” said Raine, with an evil smile. “I used to be an altar boy.”

“I’m sure you were charming. I’ll also want to meet Kessligh Cronenverdt at the earliest.” That nearly stuck in her throat, but she plunged on regardless. “I imagine he’ll be speaking for the Tol’rhen, in time of crisis, and the Nasi-Keth will be looking to him on military matters.”

“I would,” Raine admitted. “But I doubt he’ll speak for all the Tol’rhen Ulenshaals. Keeping that lot united is like herding cats.”

“Well I’m quite sure I can’t purge the Tol’rhen,” Rhillian said firmly. “The priesthood at least can be embarrassed, but Ulenshaals have no shame. And I cannot make enemies of the Nasi-Keth. If we lose them, we lose the city.”

“Agreed,” said the lieutenant. He ticked off his fingers. “Justiciars, administrators, city guard, Blackboots, priesthood, Nasi-Keth…who did we miss?”

From back up the hall, there were shouts and cries. Both turned to look, and saw a gathering crowd of cityfolk, some waving colourful banners.

“The factions,” Rhillian answered Raine’s question. “Go to your duties, Lieutenant, I’ll deal with these.”

She walked up the hall to where the intruders were causing the commotion. Justiciary guards stood warily close, hand to their swords. Civid Sein , Rhillian read the Rhodaani scrawl upon their blue banners…such a love of banners through the Rhodaani factions, a colour for every ideology. And there at their front was an ageing, fat Ulenshaal in black robes, in animated discussion with a justiciar.

“Ulenshaal,” said Rhillian. “Are you with these?” With a short nod to the rough-hewn men behind him. They looked too rustic for cityfolk, in truth. Farmers and village people, perhaps. Some held hoes or spades that could surely double as weapons.

“I am,” said the man in a loud, deep voice. “I am Ulenshaal Sevarien. These members of the Civid Sein have come to appeal for justice to the traitors who would sell out Rhodaan to the beasts who threaten our borders!”

“I intend to see justice, Ulenshaal,” Rhillian replied. “Be assured of it. In the meantime, you can demonstrate outside, the people of this institution are busy.”