The Higher Price, Part II

The Zearials brandished their pikes with reserve, as befitted personal guards in an enemy camp. But their lack of fear and stoic composure while completely outnumbered spoke volumes about the rebel's circumstances. The Zearials were surrounded and in hositle territory; but only for the moment, their confidence said. And their complete willingness to die because of someone else's indiscriminate orders was more than a little disturbing. None of the People's Militia even knew if their companions would stay or bolt when spears were raised.

The enforcer lifted his finely chiseled head and tossed a rolled piece of parchment at the rebels, in the manner a geer farmer would fling scraps to animals. His patrician voice, with its refined Terini accent, at once inspired one of two extreme reactions in the crowd; half of the assembled representatives wanted to dismember him in a mad rush, the other half wanted to beg forgiveness and reverse this past spring's events.

Theoretically, he was under Emmisarial protection, and couldn't be harmed. Not even the worst of barbarians would kill an emissary. But the rebels claimed not to recognize the authority of the Charter or its laws, a thought that had gone through the enforcer's mind more than once. If he were to believe his own propaganda, he'd never have dared enter the city.

He was a man of action. He didn't even pause to allow the crowd to examine him fully. "According to the Eighth Provision of the Charter of the League, 'On Piracy and Usurpation'," his softly nasal voice announced, "and with the unanimous and due authority of the Tilarium, the Zeare orders the Vile and Mislead Insurrectionists to surrender their arms immediately and subject themselves to the mercy of the Charter and the Zeare's justice."

A low buzz bubbled up from the assembled citizens.

"Know", the enforcer continued, raising his voice to be heard over the noise, "that her justice will be fair and even. Surrender now, and you shall receive clemency before the Law."

"Terms! Terms!", a dozen people shouted.

The Enforcer was obliged to wait until the crowd settled down before he responded. He raised his right hand in the proper show of a magistrate's professional honesty, and began.

"The Zeare offers the following terms. The leaders of this criminal action shall be publicly tortured and executed, after a fair trial. Those responsible for the deaths of Judges and Clan leaders will will be offered the choice of disinclusion or quick death. The rest will be charged an indemnity for the cost of a temporary garrison under comission of the Zeare herself, the lost property of the Great Clans, and the interrupted operations of any investors' permanent property, barring foodcrops. Those families unable to pay will surrender one child under the age of decision to the Zeare's House. Those without children will be given their choice of repayment contract. All individual actions during this anarchy will be judged on a case by case basis over the next year. The city of Kaladon will be charged a fine of one tenth export, to be delivered in tribute to the Tilarium twice anually, for a period no shorter than ten years, half to be held in bonded trust until that time has passed when it will be apportioned to Kaladonian citizens according to due rank. The city's Member Charter will be revoked and a new one prepared by the Tilarium. Ancient codes will be respected. Sacred groves will be spared.

"Surrender now, and receive the justice of the Zeare. Receive again the protection of the Charter and the security of your own ancient Kaladonian Code."

The two guards saluted stiffly. A tense silence echoed throughout the square. There was a flapping noise, and a large, jet-black fallow bird perched irreverently on the statue's green-tinged head. It squawked.

After several dry moments had lingered and passed, a tall, plain-looking woman stepped forward. Despite her ordinary robe and modest appearance, she was obviously one of the city's Academicians. The elegance with which she bore herself spoke of careful and refined education, and her simple raiment and lack of any adornment reinforced the image of forceful honesty and thoughtful conduct. In fact, the enforcer knew that before the uprising she'd been the city's greatest teacher, a philosopher of high reknown, respected throughout the League for her enthusiastic practice of strict Tsimarean philosophy. He knew this because the only people the Zeare detested more than rabble rousers and demagogues were philosophers. If the Zeare had her way, they'd all be banished from Terin, to distant island towns like this one.

"I am Perimon. I present myself as the duly chosen chief Negotiator in Trust for the Free People's Association of Kaladon," she said. She stressed the second half of the sentence, rendering it almost a challenge.

Her nervous young student-assistant anxiously stepped out from behind her and carried a kiribali fruit to the enforcer, the traditional symbolic offering exchanged between negotiators. One of the massive stern-faced guards barred his approach by moving forward and lowering his pike. The boy, terrified of the huge, bare-chested soldier, tripped and dropped the fruit. It burst open on the cracked stones with a loud, wet thud, and the juicy jewel-like bright blue seeds scattered over the clearing in a wide swath. The guard stepped back, carelessly kicking the fruit's shattered shell aside as he did so.

"You don't seem to understand, woman", the enforcer intoned. "The Zeare's orders were explicit. I am just her representative. I am here to enforce the Charter and the Code. I can no more change them than I can change the winds or invoke the elements. The Zeare's decision was final. There will be no negotiations. You are criminals and pirates, outlaws all. There will be no compromise. Accept her terms or we will lay seige to this city."

There was a clamour from the crowd as the people turned and spoke amongst themselves. After a long while, a muted hush spread through the square. A child barely past the age of decision stepped forward and addressed the enforcer.

"And what if we don't agree, Zeareman?"

He looked the boy up and down. The child was obviously a weaver's son, by his ragged outfit. The enforcer made a mental note of the boy's face. For speaking so brashly to the Zeare's representative, in any other place, the result would be two year's uncontracted labour, at the very least. After this city was put down he'd have to be found and dealt with for displaying such insolence. To maintain order, such outbursts could never be tolerated.

"Who are you, child?"

The boy beamed. "I'm the Delegate for Junior Thread Weavers, Zeareman."

The enforcer's glare passed from face to face in the crowd. He made no attempt to hide his contempt.

"The Zeare's fleet is no more than two days away. Her troops are camped half a day's march from your walls. Your port will be blockaded, your ships burned. We will lay seige to your city. Your streams will be diverted or fouled. Your fields and orchards will be razed. The Zeare's ships will blockade your port. Your walls will be pulled down.

"No man or woman shall be allowed to leave or enter this city. If any survive the assault, then your town will be decimated; one in every ten civilians, chosen by the Zeare's captains, will be publicly tortured and killed. Your teachers will be executed without compensation, and replaced at the Zeare's discretion. Those responsible for butchering Judges and Electors will be tortured and executed by public upstringing. Of the rest, all those who hold no clan affiliation will be required to perform five years' uncontracted labour for the Zeare and her dependents. Those whose Clans cannot pay the indemnities demanded by the Chartered Assessors will be disbanded, and the clan holdings dissolved. The entire populace will be branded and forbidden to travel beyond this island until fully two generations have passed."

He paused. A feather hitting the pavement would have been heard over the deafening silence. When he continued, several people involuntarily flinched at the sound of his voice.

"This city's Citadel, Auditorio and Collonade will be pulled down and investments appropriated. All public works will cease for two years and the labour from such taxation will be diverted to cover the costs of the Clan garrison which will be permanently stationed here, under command of the Zeare's House. The name of Kaladon shall be disincluded until all people involved in this revolt have died, naturally or otherwise."

The crowd gasped and shuddered as a body. This was unprecedented. Not even the greatest enemies of the League were treated in so harsh a manner.

"Or it may be that the Zeare will decide to make an example of you."

The scorching sun beat down on the dirty stone square. Over three hundred stunned faces stared blankly at the enforcer. Somewhere in the mass of stunned people a lone baby cried. All eyes lay wide open, staring vacantly ahead, in utter disbelief.

Minutes passed.

The enforcer broke the silence.

"Surrender..."

"Kill him!" shouted a man brandishing a jagged, broken sword.

The enforcer's guards raised their pikes and circled their commander, warily glaring at the crowd, ready to die defending their master. The enforcer's stern patrician composure remained utterly unbroken.

"Well? Where is Soderini? Where is your leader, rebels?"

A wizened woman spat at the enforcer. "We have no leaders, Patrician. We are a free people."

"Crone, nothing in this League is free."

A small child's voice was heard over the bubbling din. "But, mom, I thought we weren't in the league any more?"

The crowd hushed.

A balding, middle-aged man stepped forward. "We have no leaders, Emmissary. We choose our own paths. None decide for us."

Order, order, the enforcer thought, there is no order here. These people must understand some kind of authority? Can they have gone so far? It was as the Zeare had feared, he thought again. Such a terrible disease must not be allowed to spread beyond this island. And the enforcer knew that his authority was the only elixir that could cure this infection, if he could administer it properly.

"Kill him!", several citizens shouted. From several quarters bulges in the crowd appeared as people struggled to get to the centre of the square and assault the Enforcer's party. "Let's string them up! I will die a free woman!", shouted one small, modest-looking white-skinned woman, obviously from the outland islands. The Elements, the enforcer thought, they've even got foreigners listed among them.

"NO! Don't kill them!", a voice called out from the crowd, and the people parted. A man stepped into the clearing. He wore an Urban Assessor's tunic, the insignia roughly torn away from the shoulders. His hair was just starting to turn grey. His left arm was bandaged. The Enforcer judged that the man was probably about thirty five years old.

"I'm Soderini. What do you want of me?"

"You are responsible for these people?"

"We're a free association. No one is responsible for another here. No-one leads. We have no leaders."

"Nevertheless, you planned and led this revolt. You led the assault on the Citadel. You ordered this rabble to kill your Judges."

The crowd was silent. Not a few faces looked away in shame. By his frail form, Soderini was obviously no soldier; he could no more have lead a battle charge than a child. He was a bureaucrat, his hands uncalloused, his limbs without muscle. Nor could such a man have ordered the death of even the worst criminal.

"Yes. I did. I led the assault. What would you have of me?"

"Demagogues and rogues seducing League citizens, coercing them to follow your banner! You and your co-conspirators must answer for the crimes of these vile insurrectionists."

"I'm not a leader. We have no leaders. We are a free people of a free association."