Liberator (11 page)

Beth began to fade. Branches withered. The blue background rematerialized and absorbed the image until only a smoky cloak remained. As it shrank, the fireplace reappeared, then the table. The smoke shriveled and took the shape of two manacles connected by a chain lying in front of the velvet-lined box and dark crucible.

Koren took a hesitant step toward the chain and reached out, her hand shaking. When she touched one of the manacles, it dissolved. The links dispersed one by one
until they and the other manacle vanished. The crucible sat alone on the table, no longer sizzling.

“A chain,” she whispered. “A Starlighter will rise from the dead.”

Her father picked up the crucible and dipped two fingers into it. “Lift your tunic, Little K, just enough to show your stomach.”

Her mind in a daze, Koren lifted the hem. Her father smeared pink paste across an oozing rash from the bottom of her ribcage down to her navel and rubbed it in. It seemed slick and oily, like an ointment Madam Orley used on her joints, though it didn’t carry the same pungent odor.

“According to my theory,” Orson continued, “your skin will absorb this energized medication, then it will enter your bloodstream and destroy the disease.”

The medicine felt cool at first but quickly grew hot. She kept her tunic lifted to allow air to calm the sting. “What else is in it besides Cassabrie’s skin and blood?”

“Stardrop particles and a catalyst that enhances the reaction between the energy and the genetic material. The blood and skin cannot do anything by themselves, and the energy is temporary, bringing only relief from symptoms.” He interlaced his fingers. “The two have to combine, adhere, become a cohesive bond in order to carry the immunity into a person’s cellular structure, and that cohesion requires a violent reaction that expels a great deal of heat in an instantaneous eruption.”

“Like cooking a bladder bean until it pops?”

“Similar, but much quicker, much more violent. You are not familiar with this catalyst. It existed among the
humans here on Starlight back when they were the slave masters.”

“Where did you get the stardrop particles?”

“I collected them in the crucible from the remains of those that saved your life earlier. It seems that only a few substances keep the particles from deteriorating, and graphite is one of them. In my earlier tests, I used expended particles from previous healings. Alaph said the old ones would be useful for testing reactions of materials but not for curing the disease. Their energy has greatly deteriorated.”

Although the stinging continued, Koren lowered her tunic. The ointment had dried, feeling like prickling needles from a bad sunburn. “But if you need fresh stardrop particles to make the cure, how can you produce more? We don’t have access to Exodus.”

“And we likely cannot make enough from Cassabrie’s finger to go around. Even if we had an unlimited supply of stardrop crystals, I doubt that I could make more than fifty doses, a hundred at most.”

“Fifty won’t be nearly enough. We need at least a thousand.”

“Unless the disease has significantly diminished the population.”

Koren winced. Thinking about how many might have died already sent a new pang knifing through her stomach. “So Cassabrie would have to donate more skin and blood.”

“Assuming this test is successful, yes. Remember, Jason absorbed skin, blood,
and
bone, and even his immunity hasn’t been fully tested. So if Cassabrie were
to donate more genetic material, the necessity of bone would make her sacrifice great indeed.”

Koren peeked under her tunic and touched one of the sores. It was still the same size, but it looked a little less inflamed than before. The gnawing in her stomach was neither better nor worse. Trying not to look disappointed, she refocused on her father. “What do you think about the vision we saw?”

“Much of it was familiar to me. The white dragons are the Benefile, a race that battled the Southlands dragons. It’s a long story, but what you saw was part of a truce between the warring factions, an agreement made between Alaph and Magnar. Alaph has been confined to the Northlands and Magnar to the Southlands, while the rest of the Benefile are trapped in those trees.”

Koren nodded, then, with her gaze on the crucible in her father’s hand, forced herself to ask the question that had chafed at her since the vision dissipated. “And Alaph’s prophecy? What do you make of that?”

Father touched her cheek, raising her face to meet his gaze. “Can there be any doubt? You are the Starlighter who has risen from the dead.”

Koren swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “So has Cassabrie. She died, but Arxad preserved her body, and now she’s back in it.”

“Quite true, Little K, but if it comes to a test to see who will bend her knee, Cassabrie is not a candidate. I love her dearly, but she is headstrong and unpredictable. She already failed such a test decades ago, so, although she could play an ancillary role, her time to acquiesce has passed. The Creator seems to be asking you to take her place.”

“I see.” Koren imagined the mysterious Starlighter, once again embodied as she spoke so boldly to Arxad.
Don’t play the despondent dragon. I know you too well. You have defended justice too many times to surrender now. If you want to lament about lacking aggression, then do it while making up for your passivity.

What courage! What audacity! Even her defiant posture painted a portrait of bravado that seemed foreign, beyond the grasp of a disease-ridden girl who feared the chains of slavery. Were all Starlighters supposed to act that way?

Koren sighed. If her body would just heal a little bit, maybe she could stoke a similar fire. Ever since taking the stardrop, something did feel different, an inner flame that begged to blossom and grow into an inferno of passionate expression, but the disease kept smothering it, like a soggy blanket cast over a struggling fire.

“What is troubling you, Little K?”

Koren looked into her father’s loving eyes. It made no sense to hide from his penetrating gaze. “Did you see the chain?”

“I did.”

“Do you think it means what I think it means?”

“That you have to give yourself over to Taushin?” Father picked up the crucible and stared into it for a long moment. “Let me see if I understand your thinking process. If you become his eyes, then he will release the slaves. War with the human army will be avoided as well as the spread of the disease into their ranks. Fewer will die. Fewer doses of the cure will be needed. The soldiers will be able to lead the healthy slaves home to complete
liberty, because the liberator will have given herself to suffer in their place. She will die daily, suffering for all her years, but she is willing to do this in order to bring relief to the oppressed people she loves so dearly.”

Koren’s throat ached. The truth stood in plain sight, naked and with no place to hide. Was she really so transparent? Biting her lip, she nodded. No words seemed adequate.

“I thought so.” Her father dipped his finger into the crucible and scooped out a final dab of ointment. “There is one factor that I wonder if you have fully grasped.”

“And that is?”

He drew her arm close and smeared the ointment on her wrist, partially covering the abrasion from the manacle. “Are the slaves worth the suffering you will endure?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard about your attempts to reason with them, your entreaties to rise up and fight their oppressors. Yet they rebuffed you. They chose fear. They embraced their chains rather than freedom.” He gripped her wrist as if his hand were a manacle. “Are such cowards worth even one moment of your suffering?”

Koren looked into his eyes — somber and sincere. When she resurrected the scene from Darksphere, the escaped slaves splashed and played in the stream — happy, joyful, and unshackled. For a few moments, those still in chains on Starlight witnessed the ecstasy of freedom. Liberty danced before them, expressed in unbridled exuberance. It sang a melody of rapturous delight. Yet those who still stood under whips sloped their shoulders and bent their backs as they awaited another lash.

The choice was clear, obvious, without question. Yet they chose the whips. They allowed the fear of pain to smother the song. Why? They heard the lyrics about a life without chains. They saw the dance. But they couldn’t feel the freedom. They didn’t know what it was like to walk away from a master’s cave, or a pheterone mine, or a stone-movers’ raft without the burden of knowing that they had to return the next day and the next, as would their children for generations untold. Yes, the escaped children danced in the stream, but until slaves on Starlight could feel the cool water running between their own toes, the vision was no more than a dream, a tale whispered to children at bedtime to keep them from crying out in the night.

The whips were leather. Their stripes bled. Fantasy images that blew away with the wind could never overcome the brutal reality of flesh and blood.

“They’re blind,” Koren said. “They need to be taken by the hand.”

Her father caressed her cheek, letting his fingertips linger. “You are a most introspective and contemplative young woman, and I don’t deny your conclusion, but let me counter your thought with a suggestion. Freedom that is not fought for, that is not gained by personal sacrifice, is freedom that will never last, because in the heart of the one set free, it will have little value. A treasure that costs nothing is a treasure that is easily neglected and lost.”

“Does that mean you think I shouldn’t sacrifice for them?”

“Not at all. I just want you to think about all the factors as you contemplate. Considering Alaph’s prophecy, I don’t
see an alternative to your sacrifice, but if there is a way to get the slaves to participate in their own emancipation …” He let his words trail off.

“If there’s no alternative to my sacrifice, then I have to submit to Taushin.”

“Oh, no! Heaven forbid! I didn’t say that at all.”

Koren gave her head a rapid shake. “You’re confusing me. If I don’t submit to Taushin —”

“Koren! Haven’t you learned the most basic lesson?” Orson heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry for being so harsh, dearest one, but for being as thoughtful as you are, I’m surprised that you’re contemplating surrendering the greatest gift you have ever received.”

“The greatest gift?”

Father pointed at her bare feet. “While I was exploring the chambers below, I saw your discarded boots. Shall I fetch them for you? Do you want to wear them again?”

Koren wiggled her toes, free and unrestricted. She had discarded those boots while within Exodus, thereby breaking away from Taushin’s hold. His influence, once so powerful and burdensome, a mental chain of anguish, was now gone. She had begged to be released, and finding freedom was a gift indeed.

She lowered her head and whispered, “I understand.”

“Oh, dear Little K!” Father caressed her cheek. “I believe you will have to sacrifice, but never sacrifice freedom of the soul. Be willing to suffer even unto death, but never lose your embrace of eternity. If you turn down an invitation to the Creator’s heavenly abode for the sake of solving terrestrial woes, you might not receive another.”

For a moment, she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “I’ll remember.” As he withdrew his hand, she looked up at him again. “Something else in the vision made me wonder. Alaph said, ‘The Creator often allows us to suffer, even those who have done nothing to deserve it.’ “ She touched her tunic but resisted the urge to scratch the rash. “From what I heard, I died of the disease when I was just a baby. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I got it anyway. Why would the Creator punish me when I didn’t have anything to do with puncturing Exodus?”

“Ah! How well I know that question. Every tear you shed, every wail of pain, every labored breath ripped that question from my breast and made it fly toward the Creator in rage.” He shook a fist at the air. “Why, Creator? Why must my little girl suffer so? Let the guilty suffer their own punishment. I was among those who stood idly by while the dragons were brutalized. I, too, ignored the Starlighter’s warnings. Although I didn’t throw the spear that pierced the star, I did nothing to counter the prideful disdain for enlightenment that led to the foolish act.”

Sighing, he lowered his fist. “But it was not to be. As Alaph said, the Creator allows the innocent to suffer. Why?” He shook his head. “I never received an answer.”

Koren sat quietly. With no answers available, why ask more questions?

“This much I do know,” her father said, raising a finger, “although you suffered as an innocent babe, you were still in heaven’s embrace. No one is born alienated from the Creator. Alienation results from a choice to serve evil. Although we both wept and wailed in the throes of
disease, this truth brought comfort: Suffering is measured by days or weeks or months, but heaven lasts for an eternity.”

Koren stared at her bare feet again. His words made a lot of sense, but an answer to the biggest question still lay just out of reach. If she was supposed to suffer to rescue the slaves, how could she do so without giving in to Taushin? Maybe that was a question she had to answer herself.

“Well, I had better get started,” she said. “I have to begin a journey back to the Southlands. Maybe while I’m traveling I can figure out a way to get the slaves to participate in their rescue.”

“How will you get there quickly enough?”

“Since the curse has been broken, I will ask Alaph to take us.”

“Us?”

“Of course. You have to cook up the cure for as many as possible.”

“Yes. I suppose you’re right, assuming it is working.”

Koren lifted her tunic again. The sores had receded, slowly but surely. “I see definite improvement.”

“Your symptoms are fading, but that is not proof of a cure.” He looked at the crucible. “I wonder if a topical ointment is sufficient. It occurred to me that swallowing it might be an option, but consuming the flesh and blood of another person seemed rather cannibalistic.”

Koren shuddered. “I agree. I could never do that. The Code forbids it.”

“True, and absorption into the bloodstream through your skin is safer to the medicine itself. Your stomach
acids might deteriorate the bonding between the genetic structure and the energizing crystals.”