630 - It is the fate of such pawns

It was two trials, really, that of the followers and that of the leaders. The atrocities they had been forced to suffer were all spoken into the record, with the writers taking notes too; then the atrocities they had committed. Some nine hundred Arkans had been killed, and many more wounded and raped.

The judges of the Ultimate Court all recommended death for all of them, of course; the only thing that resembled lenience was the quick and merciful death for the followers favoured by some of the judges. They all felt Lasatro and the other leaders should be given a death as cruel as Erilas’s.

When I stood to announce my decision, Lasatro stood too, and I saw on his face the peace of having accepted death, a martyrdom to the principle of freedom.

I spoke at length about how Arko tends to blind itself to the agonies of slaves, to think they are not human and do not feel as humans do, though they do, as I knew myself, the only difference between someone free and a slave being the chain.

I listed off the standard oppressions: bad and scant food, back-breaking work, poor shelter, living always in fear of capricious punishment, rape, being forced to breed, having children or others they love torn away, going only where others choose they will, lack of proper healing care, and constant insult and humiliation. Slavery is a crime in and of itself, I said, a violation of the human body and spirit both, which was why I was banning it; thus rebellion against it could be seen as a form of self-defense, which is generally legally acceptable.

Then I spoke of the sufferings particular to Temono; its slaves had been victims of a conspiracy of deception by their masters, and had found their freedoms and rights curtailed rather than expanded as they had expected. These, I said, were extenuating circumstances; it is in dashed expectations that the worst anger and frustration arises, so I could not hold them fully responsible for their violence. In being lenient also, I said, I wished to make it clear to other slave-owners that the reforms were not to be abrogated, and that if some other town perpetrated a fraud as Temono had, I would judge its rebelling slaves with similar considerations.

Accordingly, I said, those who had followed only would be flogged to falling with the ten-beaded whip and deprived again of their freedom until the day all slaves were freed, so they would gain nothing by what they had done. Those who led would suffer the same flogging, but as well, live all their lives imprisoned, toiling as slaves to their dying day, though all other slaves in Arko be set free.

Lasatro stood like stone for a moment, peace turning to shock on his face. His eyes caught mine, stared, went strange; his face held smooth but was suddenly full of a terrible twisting, somehow, as if the bones were moving under the skin. Death he had been prepared for, not this.

You made yourself a pawn in a game of state, I wanted to tell him. It is the fate of such pawns to be flung from heartbreak to ecstasy, from life on top of the world to fast-impending death, in a bare instant, feeling as if they have as much say in their own fate as a leaf in a fire-wind. I know all too well myself, my friend.

I went down to the Marble Palace dungeon when I could get away from the office that night, wearing a robe. He sat in the corner of his cell, his huge length curled. “Come close so no one else hears what I tell you,” I said to him.

“No.” Even in a cell, there is a trace of freedom. “I don’t think I could keep my arms from trying to strangle you. You are a good Imperator, a boon to the Empire, as snakishly devious as the rest of them—must be the Yeoli subtleties—to gain our surrender by such a lie, and sworn second Fire come, too.”

“A lie?” I said. “You offered your life; if you think back, you’ll remember I never said, ‘Yes I will take it,’ or any words to that effect. And I was lenient to those you led anyway; they’ll be free. For you and the other leaders, it was either this or death, else I’d have worse trouble putting through the abolition. And from death, I can’t quietly spring you all in a year or two when everyone’s forgotten… five years at the most.”

He let out a dry barking laugh. “The iron overseers, they sometimes used that too, the most useful whip: hope. ‘Be good and we’ll have mercy on you.’” In the next cell, a steady thudding started, that I knew was a skull on stone. No words, no moans, just thudding, even and resolute. “Tell him that,” Lasatro spat. “He might believe you, so you’ll be able to draw it out longer.”

I couldn’t swear an oath, since he thought me forsworn already. Only the proof itself would prove itself, and that I could not give him now. I could only hope he didn’t go mad first.

He was a blacksmith whose owner was renting him to the works, so I had his blacksmith things shipped from Temono, his anvil and hammers and tongs and half-finished pieces, and had a forge set up right in the Marble Palace dungeon. For any artisan, practicing his craft is a joy and a balm, so it might help him keep his mind. I did similar for two of the other leaders, and I ordered the guards not to forbid them all to talk.

As time passed, I began having him secretly brought up to a courtyard, to see daylight; although it did not shake his distrust—it was just more of the torture, he’d say—I suspected it was helping him nonetheless.

In my darkest moods, sometimes, I would visit him to give him my oath and let me see my tears, and let him torment me with his deep razor laugh. Maybe it would help him stay sane, and one could certainly call it a regular reminder of my imperfections.