Chapter 11: Hardship Truth and Lies
Chapter 11: Hardship Truth and Lies.
Minetz pokes vigorously at plans strewn out across the workbench. "See, like this. It means 'ply' like a ply of wood or paper." After a few moments of silence looks up at Renno to find I'm staring into the rafters not paying attention.
"Why have one word for two different things." He asks disinterested.
"No no no, you don't understand. It's just the same as talking. 'Ply of wood, ply of paper.'" He writes the example as he speaks. "There's a written word for every word you say. Get it?"
A hard knock at the front door of the workshop echos through the building. Minetz is first to leap to his feet. "I'll get it!" he hops over the banister leaving Renno to wonder if the Thono even have stairs in their homeland.
The little rabbit pulls at the door with all his might but barely gets it to budge. "Just push it." He calls to the figure on the other side.
Minetz stands back and with a loud scrape, the door is shouldered open. It's Tharen.
Renno looks down at them over the banister, his ears plaster back against his head at the sight of the guard.
Tharen kicks the door shut. "When are you going to fix that door?"
"When I'm big enough to push it open myself!" Minetz says in protest before he notices the wooden bowls in Tharen's paws. "Oh oh oh, what's that? What is it? Is it for me?" Minetz walks all around Tharen his eyes fixed upon four containers of soup.
"Hold on, let me get inside first." Says Tharen pulling his arms up and away from Minetz.
Upstairs Renno stands frozen in place at the side of the banister as Tharen and Minetz make their way around him to the workbench.
In a stern voice, Tharen commands Renno. "Come on, join us. What's your name."
Renno, paws clasped together, nervous, talk dragging on the floor, approaches and says quietly. "Renno."
"Okay Renno, I'm sure you know why I'm here. Actually wait, before I begin where's Kyra?" He sets the bowls down and peeks inside the lid of each of them.
Minetz speaks up before Renno can answer. "She went to the docks, She won't be back till tomorrow." Before Thraen can even answer his grasps at one of the bowls. "Is that mine?"
Tharen pulls the bowl away from him. "No, it's this one," He pushes a different bowl closer to Minetz, "vegetable soup for you," then turning his attention to Renno "this one is yours. Renno, you said?" Tharen hands the bowl to Renno who cautiously takes it from his paws.
"Yes?" Renno says nervously. "Thanks for the stew."
"Courtesy of Rozen so thank him. Which brings me back to what why I'm here. You caused quite a scene today." Tharen narrows his gaze upon Renno.
Renno scatters to explain himself. "I was-"
Tharen cuts him off. "I've been asked to check on you by the captain. A lot of people are asking about you." he blows steam off a spoon full of stew taking a long slow sip of it. "Let me get the official questions out of the way first."
Renno locks eyes with Tharn nodding slowly sipping his own stew straight from the bowl.
Tharen clears his throat. "For the record, what is your species and where do you personally hail from?"
An easy one. Renno thinks to himself, relieved he had not been confronted about his experience at The Table. "I can't remember."
Minetz interrupts. "It's true, he's a survivor can you believe it?"
Tharen holds his paw up to silencing Minetz. "That's fine, but I need to hear it from him. So please no more until I finish."
Renno picks up where Minetz left off. "It's true, well I suppose it's true I don't remember anything but Kyra and Minetz both say it's a result of some plague. I don't even remember being sick. I but it's all I have to go on for the time being."
"Okay, then. Do you eat meat? Anything else?" Tharen leans back in his chair.
Renno swallows a bite of stew. "Why is that important? Minetz gave me some vegetables the other day that were pretty good, some of them at least. I don't remember of course what I used to eat, but when Kyra gave me a bite of her stew the first night it was pretty good."
"I see, fair enough. That's all of my official questions now I have to tell you something." Tharen stands up from his chair and looks down at Renno. "You can't just go walking around town into our halls for no reason." Tharen leans in closer.
Renno's hair stands on end as Tharen a uniformed guard, an Anoran, larger than himself bares down on him.
Tharen slams his paw on the table causing the lids and tools to rattle on its surface. "If you can't afford to stay in Brown Hearth it would be best for you to stay here and keep your head down." He says sternly.
Renno drops his spoon and averts his eyes staring into his bowl of stew. "Yes sir."
Tharen allows for a few awkward moments of silence to pass before he can hold it in no longer and begins to laugh. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. Seriously though. People around here don't know what to do with the unfamiliar. Just tell them you're here to trade. Also, I've been asked to give you this." Tharen reaches into his bracer and pulls out a string necklace with a medallion on it.
Renno, still startled cautiously reaches for it but Tharen snatches it away before he can close his paw around it.
"Before I give it to you I need to make one thing clear, when you leave I'm going to need this back. It's an official mark of state protection. It won't get you into any services but it should help with the locals and keep you safe."
"Oh just like mine!" Minetz pulls a similar medallion out from under his shirt.
Tharen shoots Minetz a disapproving look sending him back to his seat then turns back to Renno. "Understood?"
Renno nods. "Understood." he takes the medallion then adds. "Safe from what?"
Tharen looks at him a little confused but ignores the question. "There are a few laws I need to make clear. First, stay out of public services they will be marked by the Anoran seal." He points at the medallion.
Renno examines it to find an engraving of a Diamond with three inverted V's over it.
"Second, there is to be no hunting of any kind." Tharen sits back down in his chair and relaxes. "Finally, while it's not a law exactly, try not to touch anyone. You look a little too much like a Thanorite."
"A Thanorite? Like a Thono?." Renno asks subconsciously stirring his bowl playing with a chunk of meat floating near the surface.
Tharen puts his paw on his hip and looks at him with further confusion. "No, like a Notol, I said Thanorite, not Thono."
"I'm afraid I don't know what the difference is." Renno says.
Tharen casually explains finally grasping for himself the extent to which Renno's ignorance on local affairs extends. I guess he really is a survivor."A Notol is a bit smaller than a Thono, a sort of orange brown like you, fluffy tail. Actually quite a bit more fluff than yours. Something different about their face, and they certainly don't have claws, not like your's anyway. They live alongside the Thono and the Leah. They have a large nation in the west."
"So, if I'm not a Notol then..." Renno starts to ask.
"I don't know what you are. Not even the captain seemed to have any good ideas either. Though to be fair, only had wild descriptions to go on from witnesses. I'm sure he would like to get a good look at you himself. Personally, I think you're the first of your kind here at least in recent memory. Maybe you're from north of the Great Divide. Not a lot of travelers from those regions, but unless you were shipwrecked I don't know how you would have got all the way down here unnoticed. Anything else you'd like to ask? I do have to get back on patrol."
Renno gives Tharen a good once over noticing the bracelet on Tharen's wrist. "What's the deal with the bracelets. Yours is different than everyone else's. Meanwhile, Kyra doesn't even have one."
"Ah, yes," Tharen says, "the bracelets. I'm sure you've noticed it's a pretty hard life here. We have a social code. The bracelet signifies you are a member of good standing within society. It grants you access to food, shelter, bath, and a few other things provided by the crown. It's meant to protect resources. Ensuring those who can be trusted to contribute are taken care of first. If someone becomes a criminal, trouble maker, or lazy drunk and neglects his duty, or betrays the trust of his fellow Anoran. It can be taken."
"And that is serious?" Renno asks.
"Yes, it means you are honorless. You are considered below the others in society. That you are not to be trusted."
Renno cautiously asks in a soft quiet tone, "Oh, I see, what did Kyra do?"
Tharen snaps back at him. "She's done nothing wrong and don't you forget that." A few intense moments of silence pass before Tharen composes himself easing back into his chair. "Kyra is only 15. She won't be considered an adult until the fall."
Relieved Renno asks. "So will she get her bracelet then?"
"Unfortunately it's not that simple. She's an orphan. Honor is hereditary. It comes from your family." He takes his bracelet off and lays it on the table. "See how mine is made from these white stones? Each of them marked?"
Renno looks it over. He reaches to pick it up and examine it more closely but Tharen snatches it from the table away from Renno.
Tharen returns it to his wrist holding it close to Renno pointing out the charms dangling from it. "Normally the marks are made of fangs. The fangs are taken from your family members upon death. Their names are inscribed onto them and added to the bracelet. Kyra, like myself, has no family. And just like me, she will have to earn hers another way."
Renno, keeping his paws to himself this time cautiously asks. "How does she do that?"
Tharen lets out a sigh and explains. "Well, it's different for men and women. Take me for example. As a man, I was able to join the guard. Service to the state is a common route but one that is generally closed to women. After the war and the plague, our population has been decimated. Women are forbidden from dangerous jobs. These days children are needed."
Tharen takes on a more somber tone and continues. "Too many guild halls sit empty like this one. Small farms and workshops in the countryside die from either the cold or starvation. Not enough hands to prepare for winter. We have no shortage of food but not enough warm bodies to transport it all. Too many shy away from such dangerous work. Instead, they cling to the roots of their fathers. They attempt to tend the large empty hulls of guilds and farms meant to serve a population that no longer exists. Then, winter claims them."
Renno eager to learn more asks. "So, what about Kyra?"
Tharen seems annoyed, not at Renno or at the question he asked, but at an unspoken fact known only to him. "Well for women the easiest way is to marry. Other than that you can swear fealty to a guild master who is willing to take you under their service. You get access under their honor in exchange for your labor. But little to no pay otherwise."
Frustrated Renno asserts. "So, slavery then."
Tharen scoffs. "Not slavery, your free to go at any time. But if you do you will be on your own and expected to pay."
"Is paying really that hard?" Renno scratches his head.
"It's the stigma of not having honor. Paying jobs go first to those with their marks. Without one your rights are more or less forfeit. The assumption being you are a criminal. So even if you have the coin you can expect to be turned away, and no guard is likely to spend their time looking into the concerns of the lower class."
Renno compelled by an uneasy feeling presses Tharen. "Why not just steal a bracelet?"
"If only it were that easy." Tharen explains. "The punishment for such a crime is death. Remember ordinary bracelets are made from the I-teeth of your ancestors. Each with their names carved on them. You won't find spare teeth laying around and a stolen bracelet would be easy to identify. Both natural bracelets and fabricated ones like my own are registered with the state. New residents are expected to submit upon arrival to submit theirs for examination with the local guard."
Renno, shocked, wearily states. "Death, that seems a bit harsh."
"Is it really?" Tharen asks. "If they already lost their honor and need to steal a bracelet they are only proving they are committed to a life of crime. And, if a criminal gets fed without doing the work and another honorable Anoran dies is he not responsible?" Tharen's tone makes it clear that the question is rhetorical.
Renno is taken aback by his commitment. "Is life really so hard here?"
"Honestly, here in the city, it's been pretty good for the last few years. We still have trade with the north via boats. This is just about the only place the population decline has made life easier. Food is plentiful these days. It's the countryside that suffers. Between me, Kyra, and Minetz I'm the oldest and I have been an orphan longest. Let me tell you when I was little before the plague I remember stealing food from carts and clothing off the dead who froze in the streets."
Renno coughs at the unexpectedly dark turn in the already troubling conversation. "That's terrible." He processes Tharen's words for a moment. "So do you think Kyra will marry?"
"Ba'h." Tharen waves his paw dismissively. "I've tried to talk sense into her. But she won't have it. She wants to go at things the hard way."
Minetz pipes up in the background. "Well, you shouldn't have run away then."
Tharen glares at Minetz who sits with his legs through the railing looking away down to the lower floor.
After a moment of silence, Minetz turns to find Tharen still staring him down. He quickly springs to his feet and scurries away up the ladder to the loft.
Renno asks "What's the hard way."
"Well, it's not impossible to get recognition from the state and have your honor reinstated. It's a pain. You need to be sponsored by someone who puts their own reputation on the line. Any crime you commit will carry over to them for the rest of their life. Or, alternatively you could impress someone high up enough to have them essentially pardon you granting you honor."
"But you said yourself Kyra never did anything wrong." Renno scratches his head.
"The assumption is without parents you were never taught to contribute."
Renno, hopeless at this point. "Couldn't someone just adopt her then?"
"That's no simple matter either. Sure, we do what we can to help the orphans. But being charitable to an orphan is socially different than taking one in. First, if you run on hard times and a child in your care dies you are responsible. But stop donating to an orphan and no one cares. Second, there's the idea that if you're so well off you can support a child not of your own, then you must have an excess of wealth. There is nothing wrong with that directly but say you're the master of a hall like Rozen. He's like a father to Kyra. But if he adopts her and one day the supply of food runs short what do you think people would say? As his daughter he is responsible for feeding her. People would wonder if perhaps he had become careless, neglecting his duties to raise her instead of feeding the people. Who is he to choose one girl over anyone else?"
"People can't be that unforgiving." Renno dismisses the notion.
"A person won't, maybe. But a group? Don't underestimate the power of whispers across an empty table."
"Does she have a plan then?" Renno finds himself relating to Kyra, trapped in a situation beyond her control. He wants desperately to recover what is now lost. For himself, it is his past, for her, her honor.
Tharen stands up from the table and prepares to leave. "Kyra has been getting worse in the last year. She's desperate to prove herself. She has been retreating further into her faith in Miran. Faith is a powerful tool, but too have too much and it will eat away at your individuality. You become a hollow shell puppeted by the zealous expectations of the devout."
Renno becomes progressively more annoyed with Tharen as the conversation unfolds. "That's a pretty negative way of looking at it. I don't know what I may or may not have believed in, but it can't be all bad can it?"
Tharen shrugs. "Not from where I'm standing. Where was Miran when my parents died, or Minetz, or Kyra's."
"Kyra's parents aren't dead." Minetz voice chimes in distantly from above.
Tharen calls back up at Minetz. "She needs to come to terms with the facts." He turns back to Renno and continues. "I won't deny Miran's existence. But it's clear she's done too much watching and not enough doing to keep my respect."
Renno challenges him. "Aren't you afraid of what would happen if you anger Miran."
"It's not our place to be concerned with the actions of the watchers." Tharen heads for the top of the stairs. "Anyway, I've got to get back to my post. Tell Kyra I was here. Also, stop by and thank Rozen for the meal."
Renno picks up the fourth, and unopened bowl of stew from the workbench. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"It was for Kyra, put it out in the cold and let it freeze. Or, if you're not going to save it for Kyra eat it now. If I don't hear from her sooner I'll stop by tomorrow night. She should be back by then for sure."
. . .
The door of hall swings open clattering against the wall. A drunken Korzon stumbles out into the street. A layer of freshly fallen snow crunches beneath his paws as he stumbles away from the guards. "Keep the light on for me boys," he slurs his words a little but gains his composure. "I'll be right back after I take a piss." The orange glow of the lanterns emanates through the falling snow. The town, still busy with workers loading and unloading carts. That similar but strange subtle silence of fresh un-trodden snow has muted the town.
Korzon makes his way to the side of the road and leans against the cart to steady himself as he undoes his pants. He fumbles with the drawstring due to the bandage on his paw. He curses under his breath in frustration. Eventually, he manages to undo the pants far enough to relieve himself.
He steps back out into the street and pauses to stretch. Tiered and aching from the rough day now behind him. He stumbles, holding his arms outstretched above his head enough to throw off his balance under the effect of the alcohol. He catches himself before falling braces against the cart.
He begins talking to himself. "Too much Korzon. Too much. No no no. Not enough. Who are you, my dad? No, I'm me. I mean you." he laughs. "I really must be drunk. I better make sure I've not missed." He looks down and examines his hind paws grabbing his leg to pull it closer for a smell. He loses his balance and falls over beside the cart. "Shit, it's fine, okay." He starts to get up. That's when he sees it.
The tail sticking out from below the cart, flicking in the snow. He pokes his head under the cart slowly. It's Kyra, sound asleep. He stands up and looks back at the hall. The guards still posted at the door and grins. Time she gets what's coming to her. Korzon grabs her tail with both paws and shouts "Help thief! Guards, guards!" he pulls at her with all his might.
Kyra awakes abruptly disoriented. Clawing for the ground finding only the tarp she had folded for bedding.
Korzon leans back pulling as hard as he can. Kyra kicks at him but he manages a lucky grab and holds on to her hind paw. He wedges it under his arm and drags her out into the street.
The guards come running over.
"I found her trying to steal from this cart, she tried to hide under it."
Kyra tries to stand but Korzon pushes her back to the ground and she rolls on her back. She quickly rolls into a seated position. "No I didn't. You liar." her voice strained and weak. Tears from the shock of it all run down her face.
"I saw it, you grabbed the tarp and tried to make off with it." Korzon shouting loudly so that the guards may hear him.
"Halt, halt." The call out as they approach.
Kyra starts to stand.
"Stay on the ground." one of the guards shouts.
Kyra sits back down and crosses her arms.
Korzon calls to them as they approach. "That's the one there, I saw her. She took that tarp." He pulls the tarp up off the ground and holds it up like a trophy. "She would have taken more too, lucky I got here in time."
The guards arrive spears drawn. "Okay, what's going on here."
Korzon and Kyra talk over one another "I, she was, trying to sleep but, and then I saw her take the tarp, he grabbed my tail and, a thief I say, pushed me-"
The guard shouts at them. "One at a time! You," he points at Korzon. "What did you see?"
"I came over here to piss off a night of drinking and found this filthy street girl stealing from this cart, she tried to duck under and hide but I dragged her out to face justice for her crimes." He tries his best to sound just and in his right mind but his drunken state takes hold of his words making itself known.
The guard turns to Kyra. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself."
She throws her paws into the air. "It's a lie, I was part of the caravan. You wouldn't let me in earlier so I came out here to try and sleep. I took out a tarp to keep off the ground and slept under the cart out of the snow."
"Liar!" Korzon shouts he takes a step forward. He stumbles and has to pause to catch his balance.
The guard takes a closer look at Kyra's face beneath her hood. "I remember you. You tried to barge your way into the hall earlier under false pretense. That's it, your under arrest." He grabs her arm and tries to pull her to her feet.
Kyra twists her body and pulls away from him. "Get off me!" she falls back to the ground to her knees braced on one arm.
Korzon having regained his balance pushes his way past the guard and kicks her as hard as he can square in the ribs as she tries to stand. "Liar!"
Kyra screams and rolls over away from him coughing in agony.
The violence of the attack proves too much for Korzon. He trips and falls to the ground.
The guards turn on him and drag him to his feet. "You too, you're coming with us. Ya lousy drunk."
Kyra tears running down her face, crawling away on one arm, the other grasping her chest, choking for air drags herself towards the edge of the road.
Korzon continues to resist and pushes back the guard nearly breaking free. Both guards turn their attention on him eventually subduing him.
The second guard turns his attention on Kyra and walks around the cart to grab her.
She scrambles desperately towards the edge of the road. Before he can grab her she rolls over the embankment down towards the river.
The guard stops at the edge and peers hopeless down into the darkness below.
The other guard calls to him. "Just let her go, I don't think she'll be a problem."
"You hear that?" the guard at the roadside shouts into the black of night. "Don't let me catch you in town again. Got it?"
Silence.
At the bottom of the tall stone embankment, Kyra lays face down in the snow crying. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. The inside of her cheek cut by her own sharp teeth upon landing. The rough hard frozen rock of the hillside has taken its toll on her. After a time she slowly comes to a crawl. Slowly and in agonizing pain, she makes her way to a tree growing along the river bank and uses it to brace herself into a seated position. She dries her eyes and pulls her hood back over her head. The snow building up on her clothing slowly.
The pain in her ribs is made worse but the choice to sit rather than lie flat in the snow but she knows it's her best chance to survive the night. Cold and shivering she huddles against the tree. Her thoughts an incoherent blur of the events that just transpired trying to grasp at any meaning culminated best in two simple words. Why me?
The last few hours of night slip past. The steady soft sound of the river calms her. Eventually, Kyra drifts off to sleep. Few creatures of this world would survive such a night without warmth or shelter. Anorans are unique in this regard. Unpleasant and still dangerous they are built for these conditions.
Kyra awakes to the sun in the sky and a paw on her shoulder.
"I found her!" a voice calls out from above. It's source obscured as a silhouette against the clear sunny sky. "Come on little one. Let's get you out of here." The voice belongs to Rhal.
Kyra's raises her head, her cloak is stiff and frozen. Her fur too.
A voice calls down from the street. "What do I care, get back up here we have to leave." This voice belongs to Rivaus.
Rhal pulls Kyra to her feet. She inhales through her teeth her nose clogged clutching her chest. The pain is almost unbearable.
Rhal gently presses his large open paw against her chest below her breast. Kyra reacts to the sharp sting of pain. "I think it's broken." He says. "I'm Afraid this is going to hurt." Before she can protest he scoops her up over his shoulder onto his back.
Kyra yelps but does not resist and instead clings to him the best she can.
Rhal climbs the embankment back to the street.
Rivaus waits impatiently watching. "All right now put that filthy thing down we are late.
Rhal lets Kyra slide off his back onto her feet, she stumbles and nearly falls from the pain on landing. Out of breath, she looks around the crew to find a new face in the crowd.
"Let's go." Rivaus shouts. The men take their positions. The new one taking Kyra's spot.
She speaks up. "Sir I-"
"I don't want to hear it. You can't push in that condition. Your too much trouble to me." Rivaus, callous and uncaring as if discussing a business transaction.
"Can I at least ride home?" she pleads with him. Tears running down her face.
"Absolutely not," he turns to the men. "Let's go, let's go."
"But I-"
This time he speaks angrily. "I've had to hire a new hand. Your goods are forfeit now get out of here before I throw you back over the hill myself."
Rhal shakes his head sympathetically but says nothing.
Rivaus pushes past Kyra and makes his way briskly to the head of the caravan.
She is left standing in the middle of the street, frozen. Hunched over clutching her ribs as they walk away. She remains there for some time unsure what is left for her to do. The hall won't let her in. She has no money, no food. Its been almost a day since she's eaten anything. This at least isn't unusual for her. She looks out at the ocean. The docks are clear. The only vessels left have been pulled ashore for the winter. Enozen's envoy has gone at some point in the night. I can't stay here. Miran protect me, I must walk home.
She summons the will to take the first step in the long journey back to Aht'Regania.
One slow agonizing step after another she follows the cart path. What seemed like a slight downhill before is like a towering mountain before her. The narrow gap of the falls before her faint on the horizon. From time to time another cart catches up to her. She pleads with each of them to let her board. But dirty, limping, and without marks of honor or coin, none are willing to help.
Slowly the walls climb upward as she enters the gorge. The mist of the falls ahead forms a dark cloud. The sun sits on the edge of the mountains above. Her body shivering, legs trembling. One slow step after another she makes her way forward.
The falls slowly moves closer as the sun slips below the horizon. The base camp lodge guides her onward crawling slowly closer to her. Kyra soon finds her self standing at the bottom step for what seems like forever. The pain of climbing them hold her at the base but only second to the fear of rejection. She stares up the steps at the door silently closing her eyes. She can feel the tiny crystals of ice blown free of the falls land on her nose like stars in the night sky.
She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath and coughs the pain in her chest claws at her subconscious in an attempt to undermine her confidence. She drops to her knees and takes a hold of the steps with her claws. One step at a time she climbs to the top. Weakly knocks at the base of the door. For the moment, silence. She wraps her paws around the railing and slowly pulls herself to her feet. The door creeks open. It is an unfamiliar Airet.
He peers through the crack at her and slowly closes the door shaking his head.
She calls to him. "No, please, the old man. Is he here? Get him."
The door closes with a soft thud.
Kyra leans weakly against the railing. After some time the door opens again and the old man stands before her.
He sighs a long sympathetic sigh. "Come on." he reaches out for her paw. Instead, she collapses into his arms. He holds onto her refusing to let her fall to the floor. He pulls her right arm over his shoulders and helps her to the drying room. This time the sauna is empty. All travelers have passed for the night. "Dry off, No sense in going up the falls tonight. By Miran what's happened to you."
Kyra remains silent. She takes off her cloak but can't pull her shirt off over her head.
The old man can see she's in pain and struggling. He helps her pull it off and hangs it up for her.
Kyra hands him the rest of her clothing. "I don't want to talk about it." She lays down on the wooden floor facing away from him her back nearest the pit.
He shakes his head. "You young people think you can do everything on your own. I won't talk you out of it. I may be old but I remember what it was like." He shakes his head and leaves her to rest. After a while, he returns with fresh coals and a bowl of stew. He finds her sleeping. He cautiously sets the bowl down beside her and pours the coals into the pit. Before leaving her to rest.
End Chapter 11