Preserving Hope (23 page)

None thanked Elizabeth for her dozen years of testing everything else without any guarantee of success, or even survival. She instead received a great deal of scorn from daily lottery losers, who noted that if she’d found the zirple root earlier, they’d have enough for everyone by now. In their frustration of falling behind in the race to develop the enhanced abilities, more than one lottery loser physically lashed out at Elizabeth.

Will made certain that no one used that outlet for their frustration more than once.

Elizabeth’s gloom intensified, for the current state of affairs showed that her plan, her efforts to get her neighbors to see the errors of their ways, had failed. They had achieved what they sought: the answer to the question of how to develop these mythical abilities, and none of them had paid any price save for a decade-long delay in learning the correct process, and the forfeiture of some of their money. While they’d waited, they hadn’t suffered; they’d gained their respective freedom, developed advanced skills in various crafts and professions, and without exception had amassed appreciable wealth. In the interim, those former slaves and servants had enslaved one of their own; those forced to perform deadly and dangerous tasks took delight in inflicting the same on the weakest among them; those horrified years ago at their own poor health and mortality ignored how their actions lessened both the health and life span of their youngest neighbor. And those attitudes were shaped and encouraged by Elizabeth’s own father. To Arthur, all action revolved around consolidating his own power over this neighborhood and growing his own wealth. Elizabeth had served her purpose; Roland and his zirple were his source of power now.

Elizabeth knew what that meant for her, as her abilities, like Will’s, enabled her to read the man’s true beliefs and feelings as it related to her, feelings he allowed greater expression now that he had his financial and power apparatus back in place. What both Will and Elizabeth found in the man’s thoughts and feelings suggested that Elizabeth’s fears all along were well justified. Arthur’s sole regret in relation to his daughter was that he’d not attempted to marry Elizabeth off in exchange for a large dowry, preferably to a potentially powerful ally like Maynard. There was no thought to her suffering, no regret for the pain he’d enabled in her life, no concern about the complete lack of love and paternal instinct he’d directed her way. Arthur had determined that the men of the community did not see Elizabeth as marriage potential, but as a servant girl. His chance to derive a final financial return on her was gone, and as such he gave her no further thought.

Will was sickened. Elizabeth was devastated. She’d wanted her father to reform, to show the love a father should show to his little girl, to act as her protector. Instead, he’d been revealed as a monster, a man incapable of the love and self-sacrifice required of those serving as parents. Will was thankful that she’d moved to her own room, for seeing Arthur served only to further depress her already shattered morale.

Her only consolation was that Arthur relented on his rule forbidding her to go outside the walls of the community for anything other than community-wide activities such as the morning bath in the calm waters of the Halwende River. With demands for her hired help diminishing, she had sufficient time and need to choose a profession. None of the professions seemed interested in bringing her on board, except for the Traders, the group that had taken an interest in Elizabeth when no one else bothered.

Arthur laughed at Eva’s suggestion that Elizabeth become a Trader, a suggestion made as the spring months beckoned and the snows melted away. “She’s not capable of Trading, Eva. She stammers and looks at the ground and generally speaking makes a public fool of herself. Bringing her along is likely to ruin the profit you Traders make, and worse, the profits for the rest of us.”

“She will learn, and I dare say she’ll make a fine Trader in short order,” Eva replied. She narrowed her eyes at Arthur. “It will give her the opportunity to make her own money as well.”

Arthur snorted. “That idiot girl will likely spend it on trinkets and trivial items, wasting what little money she will actually earn.” He waved them off. “You’ve been warned. If you wish to continue with this foolish fantasy, go ahead and waste your time with her. As for me, I’m waiting to experience these new abilities from my zirple consumption.”

Will arched an eyebrow. “How long have you taken it?”

“Three months. I can feel something changing already. It won’t be long now.” He rubbed his hands together, his grin like an ice pick to the heart. Will attempted to avoid laughter. It was true — Arthur had developed a trace of Energy. But if it had taken three months to reach that trace, he wouldn’t be able to cause damage for decades, assuming he lived that long.

Which, sadly, he most certainly would.

Will nodded. He’d declined to enter the lottery for the zirple, with the excuse that he wanted longer-term residents of the community to have the first chance at the benefits they’d so long coveted. Speaking of which…

“I’m assuming that Elizabeth, as well as Eva and the Traders, will start to receive their allotment of zirple soon? The first crops are being harvested now, and there should be sufficient quantities for everyone.”

Arthur looked at him, and Will knew the answer before it was given. “Crop harvests are erratic and spoilage often occurs. As such, we will continue to have drawings for daily rations until such time as we are able to predict with confidence the size of the usable crop. The best I can tell you, Will, is that their allocations will depend on when their names are drawn and the success of the crop.” His thoughts betrayed what Will already suspected, that the drawing had been rigged. Arthur and Roland, of course, always received their share, and Maynard heard his name called every day. The Traders remained highly infrequent winners in the lottery, and both Eleanor and Gerald had been heard grumbling about switching professions as a result. It was lost on no one that the drawings were rigged. Given that most villagers won on a daily basis now, however, they had no reason to complain about the obvious maltreatment of their neighbors.

Though the numbers were certainly unequal, the village was clearly dividing itself. A small handful were intent on developing their professional skills and creating higher quality and greater quantities of goods for sale and trading those at the greatest possible profit. With the arrival of Roland and his alliance with Arthur, the greater portion of the community was now riveted by the possibilities the zirple root provided, and as such they once again followed Arthur’s lead without question. They knew the lottery was, to some degree, a charade, and that any that Arthur favored — like Maynard — would win, regardless of the number of chances they purchased. Yet they participated and curried his favor to ensure that they’d hear their name called each day. Arthur’s licensing deal with Roland had been a stroke of genius.

Will shrugged. “I’m taking a walk outside the walls, then, and seeing how the harvest is progressing. Elizabeth, would you like to join me?” He walked away, and was aware that Elizabeth hurried after him a few seconds later. The two headed for the gate, and Will could feel Arthur’s eyes boring into him as the man’s thoughts hammered in to Will’s mind. Arthur was suspicious of Will’s motives and successes in Trading, and was jealous of his ability to rally the community to projects like the Wheel in a way Arthur never could.

Let him wallow in his unhealthy emotions
, Will thought.

Elizabeth, as was her custom, walked with her head down, avoiding eye contact and conversation. Previously, it was something she did to ensure that no one detected her incredible health and vitality by recognizing those “symptoms” through the glow of her eyes. She’d avoided questions that way, questions as to how she’d achieved such health if she was suffering through so many experiments. Today, she walked with her head lowered as the reality of her existence weighed her down.

They walked beyond the path to the farms, and Elizabeth didn’t even question why they weren’t heading toward the zirple fields. She’d known they’d head to the cave, a place they’d not visited in some time. They walked away from the cave, and when they both sensed there were no eyes spying on them, Will took her arm and teleported the two of them into the cave.

She sat down on the stone floor and cried.

Will sat next to her and put an arm over her shoulder, and she leaned in, her tears wetting his shirt. He understood that she needed to grieve, that in so many ways she was now an orphan, losing her mother to a violent death, and her father to his megalomania. Though she’d soon turn nineteen years old, and possessed savvy survival instincts and intelligence, she was in many ways still a child, denied the nurturing so desperately needed as she’d aged from an innocent and happy little girl into a pawn during the always-difficult teen years. She was only too aware that her only living parent believed her existence only mattered when it furthered the man’s own dreams, without regard to hers.

When the tears ended, there was silence in the room. And then to Will’s surprise, Elizabeth began to laugh. It wasn’t a joyful laugh, meant to express happiness or humor, but a laugh of realization, that everything was not what it seemed.

“What is it?” Will asked, baffled.

She sat up, moving away from contact, and turned to look at him. There was a faint flicker of the fire he’d seen in her eyes when he’d first arrived, enough to let him know that she wasn’t completely defeated. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t work?”

“The zirple.”

Will paused. “But Roland said—”

“Roland is wrong. Zirple is the
second
step in the process, an important one, but it’s useless without that first step. He likely went through the first step and didn’t know it, or thought he’d gotten very sick when in reality he was suffering through the first step in the process. Or maybe, just maybe, zirple works if you use it long enough, years and years. Zirple was one of the first things they forced on me when I was very young, and it did nothing for me, or to me. Then I did that first step, and after that, the zirple worked well, and very quickly. My father has been at it for three months and barely has enough Energy to warm his fingertips. It shouldn’t take that long. The others have gotten it less frequently than he has, and as such they’ll take even longer to see anything happen.”

“So there’s another, secret ingredient?” Will asked.

She nodded, then frowned. “I don’t want anybody to find out, though. I’d tell you, but…”

“But I don’t need it.” Will thought for a moment. “There’s no need to tell me; I don’t want to ever have the chance to let slip the name. I imagine it’s still in the Schola?”

She gave him a vague look.

“Maybe you should start moving it to your room. The same way you’ve moved the money from Arthur’s room. When we come here the next time, bring it with you and leave it here. Or let me know — in my head — where it is in your room and I’ll move it here. Just make sure that you only do a little at a time.”

Elizabeth nodded again, smiling, and Will understood. She’d already done that.

“I told Eva the secret ingredient, but not about the zirple. And now that makes me worried.”

“How so?”

“What if Father
doesn’t
prevent her from getting the zirple? She’s used the first ingredient. If she takes the zirple now, her Energy will develop rapidly. She might even do some… you know…
magic
without meaning to, and people will see. My father… he killed my mother for just
talking
about hiding things from him. If Eva’s the only one to develop any noticeable skills, more quickly than anyone else, after she’s been denied zirple for so long… I’m afraid something similar will happen to her.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m worried about something bad happening to Eva. That means I’m not like him, right?”

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps it means you’re like your mother.”

Her eyes glazed over, and it was apparent that she was reliving memories made with the woman called Genevieve, Arthur’s wife and Elizabeth’s mother, a woman who had died at the hands of a violent mob before Will had arrived.

“She was the only one who always cared about me,” Elizabeth whispered. “Others did eventually, people like Eva, but Mother always did. She hated what Father was doing to me, but when she tried to talk him out of it he got… scary. She was afraid of being hurt herself, and that’s when all the time in the Schola started. I wanted to be angry with her, but she was so angry with herself that I couldn’t bring myself to add to it. So she did the only thing she thought she could… she went with me, and experienced everything I experienced. I didn’t like to hear her scream, when some of those foods would burn so badly, and make us sick. I didn’t want her to be hurt too. But it helped to know that at least one person cared, and at least one person knew how I felt. I wished she had found a way, and the courage, to make it stop at the beginning, but when she couldn’t do that, she did the next best thing. It was her form of courage.”

She took a deep breath. “We figured out what happened at the same time. It was an especially nasty bit of food, a berry that smelled worse than manure, and tasted like… I’ve never tasted anything so awful. She was ill that day, and it was the only time she didn’t go with me, but she took it two days later. It was the same experience for both of us, though. When we swallowed it, it started burning us up from the inside out.”