Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Mother Speaks (4 page)

They looked like ideals that I might have dreamed for the day when the world was once again clean.

As my gaze passed among the soldiers, fascinated by their features, wonder alleviating my pain for a moment, I saw a familiar face.

Your father.

He stood in a group on the other side of the courtyard. Ragged rips carved their way through his clown costume, and red welts lined his flesh He stared down, and never had I seen him so lacking in energy, not since the time before he regained his voice years and years earlier.

It was then that I realized how strangely powerful these people were, powerful enough to contain J'role the thief and to break the spirit of J'role the clown.

But these thoughts broke off sharply when the ground suddenly shifted first to the right and then to the left. Then it seemed to jerk up violently and my knees buckled. I collapsed and realized in a panic that we had left the ground.

8

I knelt on the white marble flagstones of the courtyard, the rain pouring down on me.

Above, dark clouds churned in a circle. The castle not only floated, but rotated. As it turned, a huge white stone platform set on thick, incredibly tall pillars came into view.

Hidden behind me only a moment before, it now dominated the castle, dwarfing it. We floated up toward the platform. My captors were masters of magic.

The platform stretched t bed some eight hundred by twelve hundred yards. Six buildings, each several stories high, stood on it. The design of the buildings—the curved lines, the repeating motifs of mirrored angles and circles, the sweeping balconies and awnings—

actually made my spirits rise. Perfect white marble, sanded soft like flesh, folded on itself, hiding gentle recesses and seeming to promise that the building would come to life at any moment. I immediately recognized elements of the architecture from Parlainth, the hidden city J'role and I had discovered years earlier. No doubt now lingered about whether or not these were Therans who had captured me, for Parlainth had formerly been the Theran capital of Barsaive. But how could the Therans build such lovely buildings and yet be so dreadful?

Several of the buildings looked like barracks, for they sat low to the ground with less ornate designs.

Three of the buildings, five stories each, with large windows and railed balconies looking out over the platform's courtyard, probably held the quarters of the Theran officials. The last building rose taller than the rest, and atop its highest floor floated a ceiling—but neither walls nor pillars held the building's roof in place. A woman dressed in blue robes looked down on the rising castle. Then she turned and walked out of sight.

Docked around the mining platform floated airships, bobbing as if docked in the blue-green waters of a bay. Thick ropes kept the airships in place, and walkways made of rope and wooden slats spanned the distance from the platform to the airships. Each ship was about a hundred feet long, with a thick, long hull, made of stone. On each deck was a center castle and an aft castle, made of the same gray stone as the hull. Two masts, also made of stone, rose from the deck, each supporting wide yardarms. All the sails of the ships lay folded along the yard arms. Theran sailors were everywhere, the rain pouring down on them, guiding slaves loaded with metal barrels on and off the ships.

I looked toward J'role, who was staring at the platform with an odd expression. I was to find out later that he had, in fact, helped build it. It was at once a point of pride and despair that he had used his hands to create such a magnificent structure. I longed to call to him or draw his attention in some other way, but, certain of a beating if I did anything but wait passively with the other slaves, I did nothing.

The castle gate came level with the platform. Guards on the gate towers signaled to guards below, and the drawbridge was lowered. The red-armored soldiers began to herd us across the platform, keeping us in tight groups. For a brief moment I wondered why a rebellion had not already taken place. The slaves outnumbered the captors; the soldiers and guards seemed only half-aware of our presence. Yet when I secretly stole glances at the other slaves, their faces only echoed a desperate emptiness. They all seemed to me like children, lost and without their parents, numbed from too many weeks struggling to stay alive. Children do not know how to rebel. They have no idea that they can rebel.

Somehow captivity had broken these adults back down to a time of childhood, before they were responsible for their own lives and so could risk their lives for what they wanted.

I looked down and realized that my wizard robes had been removed, replaced by the same kind of coarse black cloth worn by the other prisoners. Casting a spell would be dangerous, for Horrors on the astral plane might be drawn to me. Could I take the risk?

Physically weak as I was, I decided it best not to.

The rain stopped, and I missed its hum in my ears. As we crossed the drawbridge, I glanced over the side and saw that the ground was hundreds of feet below. A broad plain surrounded the platform, the deep grass turning emerald green as the clouds broke and the bright noon sun came forth. In the distance I made out the city of Vivane, with its blue-green spires and glinting gold of its massive walls. So I was in Barsaive after all. I had worried that the Therans might have transported us to a strange land.

All the slaves filed onto the platform. Sunlight spark led off the rain-damp white marble, and the delicately sculpted buildings reflected the light pure and white.

The soldiers moved us to edges of the courtyard formed by the half-dozen buildings sitting on the platform. The man who had entered the dark room to get my group of slaves, the one with the whip, made the rounds. I saw now he was a small man, thin, with very red hair and a sneering face. He cracked his whip at everyone as he passed.

Sometimes he struck someone, other times the whip simply struck the air in between people. The rule, however, seemed to be that if you flinched he would definitely lash you with the whip. Everyone tried to remain as still as possible as the madman walked the edge of the open square formed by the slaves and soldiers.

The slaves focused their eyes toward the castle gate. A dozen soldiers in scarlet armor emerged in a three by four formation. Behind them, flanked by four soldiers in disturbingly black armor that seemed to suck sunlight from the air, strode a tall, horribly pale man. Something in the way he walked instantly made me think of a fat, giant worm, but to this day I cannot tell you why. He was old, but showed no signs of decrepitude. A ring of short silver hair circled his balding head from temple to temple. He walked with an absolute confidence, as if the universe itself had whispered to him one night. "And, by the way, all that I have created—it is for you." So it was that I first perceived Overgovernor Povelis.

And behind him walked the two of you.

I sucked in my breath, confused, surprised, and overjoyed. You lived!

You looked extraordinary. The Overgovernor had dressed you both in pure white togas.

On your faces, artists had drawn intricate patterns of spirals and curling lines, using silver flakes that glittered in the sunlight. The patterns on your faces was identical, serving to accentuate the similarities between you. Your hair had also been cut short and identically.

The effect of all the cosmetics was so dramatic that even I, separated from you by more than eighty feet, could not tell you apart. You held between you a purple pillow upon which rested a white scepter.

I shouted your names and tried to push my way through the other prisoners to get to you.

The red-bearded slave master immediately appeared before me and snapped his whip at me again and again. I struggled to get through the whip's blows, but they drove me back and I fell to the ground, cowering. "My children...," I mumbled, but I could do no more. I could not move for the pain.

From the courtyard I heard my two boys crying for me. I looked up, through the legs of the slave master, and saw two Theran guards rush up and carry you toward the castle. I called out your names again, and again I was whipped. I began to black out, and fell flat to the ground.

I could no longer hear your cries when the guards roughly hauled me up to my feet. The slave master stood in front of me, shouting words I could not understand. The meaning, though was clear. "Behave!"

From the tall building at the head of the courtyard came Chancellor Tularch, the woman in robes who I'd seen earlier. She emerged from massive doors carved with a map. Lines radiated from an island in a sea, and I assumed the island was Thera. The woman, an elf with bronze skin and silver hair, walked down a stairway from the map door.

The guards escorting Povelis widened their formation, and the soldiers in black increased the distance between them, making a large square that could contain both Tularch and Povelis. The Chancellor and the Overgovernor faced each other. I saw a smile pass between them. Oddly, the smile did not contain vile secrets or a smug lust, as one might expect from such masters of miserable slaves. Instead, their exchange seemed to me one of true affection and pride; specifically, a teacher, Povelis, gazing upon his student, Tularch

The pale Overgovernor held a thick white scepter of stone that seemed almost an extension of himself. He raised it high, spreading his arms wide, as if about to laugh with unbridled joy . Instead he shouted to the blue sky above, "And here, now, we have returned!" He spoke the dwarven tongue of Throal, though with a strange accent. A few guards posted around the platform, the castle walls, and the stone airships shouted out a translation that I did not understand. Some standing among the slaves repeated the Overgovernor's words in several different languages, apparently for our benefit. "Let the people of this province know that they are once again part of Thera, and receive the many blessings that rain down for all the people of the Theran Empire!" A cry went up from the soldiers and guards around the platform.

The slaves remained silent, but the Therans seemed not to mind.

Povelis lowered his arms, looked deeply into Tularch's face. "You have done very well, Chancellor Tularch." He spoke loudly, so that all might hear "This mining platform, a symbol of our permanence in Barsaive, was completed three weeks ahead of schedule."

Another cheer from the crowd. I noticed that the small, redheaded slave master smiled broadly and took a half-bow during the shouting. "May your success continue, as I appoint you commander of Sky Point." A final cheer, especially from the sailors on the stone ships.

Povelis handed Tularch the scepter, and she turned to face the cheering Therans and silent slaves. She opened her mouth to speak, but faltered, overcome by emotion. She paused, collected herself, then simply raised the scepter high, and shouted in Throalic,

"For Thera!"

Behind her, the Overgovernor smiled, but hid the smile behind one of his old white hands. The soldiers and guards took up a chant that became louder and louder. Firmer and firmer. "Barsaive. Barsaive. Barsaive," they said again and again, emphasizing each syllable.

9

The ceremony completed, the Theran officials and ranking military officers made conversation and congratulated one another. I saw the Overgovernor call a guard over and speak to him. The slave master began cracking his whip once again, but the Theran leaders took no notice. Soldiers and the castle guards began herding the slaves as before.

They forced some groups toward the castle and others toward the barracks on the platform. J'role’s group headed back to the castle, mine to the barracks. We walked closer and closer, and at just fifteen feet from each other, only an instant before we would pass, J'role saw me. He had probably heard my voice earlier when I shouted your names, for he seemed relieved when our eyes met.

I began to open my mouth to speak, but he shook his head and patted the air at waist level. This was an old signal from our first days together, when he was mute and we'd had to forge a language of gestures to communicate. It meant: Wait.

Only a few steps separated our groups as we passed. J'role and I were on adjacent edges of our respective groups, and the crowd of slaves around us provided momentary cover from the guards. Just as we passed he slipped into my group, then grabbed a small female elf by the shoulders and said, "Please, switch with me." I turned, saw the elf's face become tense with fear. Then she nodded quickly and joined the other group as it trod on.

I tried to take his hand, but he waved me away, stared intently at the ground, ignoring me completely.

Just as we reached the barracks, the guard the Overgovernor had spoken to walked up to me. He was an ork, with piercing black eyes and bright white teeth that protruded over his lips. He grabbed me by the shoulder, firmly but not necessarily roughly. Turning me to face him, he studied me, then spoke in heavily accented Throalic. "You are the woman who shouted for the boys?"

I hesitated, not certain which answer would be better, but finally nodded.

"Come with me." He stepped aside so I might leave the group and walk ahead of him.

I turned my head to look at J'role for clues as to what to do. But from the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head slightly.

I stepped out of the group. The slave master looked disappointed, as if he'd just lost status by having one of his victims called away without his permission. This gave me pleasure even as this lowest moment of my life.

10

The guard led me to the castle, across the drawbridge, across the courtyard, and into the castle's great hall. Tables, finely carved from dark wood, lined the hall. At the head of the hall, set upon a dais of black marble, was a large throne. Tall, wide windows of colored glass lined the walls, casting extraordinary patterns on the floor. After a moment of staring at the colors I realized that they shifted. Looking up from the floor to the windows, I saw that the patches of color—reds, yellows, blues, greens, and purples—

moved around each other, like clouds shifting against the sky at sunset. I had never seen anything so beautiful made by the hands of name-givers before, and nearly wept at the sight. I was becoming horribly confused—too much beauty and pain and fear all at once.