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2.4 In Which the Dark Lord Passes Judgment
🕑 Added 2021-08-31 01:00:15 +0000 UTC“My…tale.” The bandit boss’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“Not many people are born bandits, I imagine,” I said in a genial tone. “Even fewer aspire to it. You don’t see many children scampering through the farms, villages, and city streets, dreaming of one day slowly starving to death in the forest, with no future but the certainty of an early and violent demise, hated and outcast by all of society. Or did I just describe your youth?”
He grimaced and dropped his eyes.
“And yet, here you are. It must have been a long series of escalating misfortunes that brought you to this point. Tell me the short version. To begin with, I assume you have a name?”
“Name’s Auron.” He shook his head once. “I dunno what to tell you, man, it’s not much of a story. I fell into debt, then ended up indentured on a farm. Then ran away. This isn’t a great life, no, but it beats that.”
“Ah, so you were a slave.”
“Indentured servant,” he said, not without a note of bitter irony. “There’s no slavery in Fflyr Dlemathlys.”
I reached out and smacked the side of his head. Lightly. To judge by his expression, he seemed mostly confused by this.
“Don’t do the work of the Clans for them, Auron. They don’t need any help. They can pass a law that turds must be called dumplings, but you still wouldn’t want one for lunch.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get what you’re saying.” Auron actually grinned at me, still with that hint of bitterness to the humor. “People get got by crooked judges for debts they don’t owe. Yeah, it happens all the time. I worked with some folk like that in the fields, and I’ve met some here in my, uh…third career. But that wasn’t me, preacher man.” He managed to straighten up enough to raise his chin pridefully. “I owed what I owed. I took the loan knowing full well what’d probably happen, and when it did, I went to court and took what I had coming without whining.”
“A man of integrity,” I mused. “And yet, you ran away.”
Auron broke eye contact at that. “Yeah, I ran. It’s just like they say: you don’t know whether you’ll take a devil’s bargain till one appears before you. Well, I found out the price of my integrity, all right. I ran cos I couldn’t survive, working those fields. Nobody can. Nobody does. An indenture’s lucky to pull in five harvests before their bodies just fuckin’ give out. They drop dead right there in the wheat, or stop breathing in their bunks one night. A lot get their hands on a sickle and draw it across their own throat before the overseers can grab ‘em. I’m not proud for scarpering on my debt, but fuck it, I’m not ashamed, either. It’s not like I’m gonna live much longer out here, right?” He raised his face again, that dark grin returning. “Least I get to go down in a good scrap. I’ve gotten to punch a few rich merchants on their fat chins, too. Even a highborn, once. Got a little of my own back before I join the revels. Fuck it all, I’ll take what I can get.”
A stir had gone through the women behind me partway during his recitation; for the most part, the captured bandits still seemed too scared of me to do much, but by the time Auron came to a stop even a few of them were muttering.
I let them, for a moment, while I gathered my thoughts. Fuck, the situation on these farms was way worse than anyone had told me. My reasoning for recruiting the Alley cats held—the powers that be would not expect the Healer of trying to turn prostitutes into an army—but I now wished I’d known about this before I launched that plan. Not only would farm laborers be stronger and tougher, it sounded like they were in much more urgent need of rescue. Five years?
“That must’ve been a steep debt,” I finally said aloud. “Gambling?”
Auron’s face closed down again. “It’s not— Ahh, what difference does it make? I dunno why you even wanna listen to this, but fine. My mum was sick. Spores from nahkta khora in her lungs. You know what that means.”
“I don’t, actually.”
He squinted up at me. “Seriously, man?”
“Do I look like I’m from around here?”
“Well, fair enough,” Auron said with the faintest huff of almost-laughter. “Some khora you have to be real careful harvesting, or various shit in ‘em gets into you and messes you up. Nahkta drops spores that can root in your lungs and… Well, anyway, it’s deadly. Pretty easily cured, though. Just takes the right medicine.”
“Ahh, and let me guess. Since the medicine can save one human life, it has the same going rate.”
He nodded. “Only guy on Dount who makes it is a Gwyllthean alchemist who’s infamous for doing this shit. He’ll sell to highborn cos they’re good for the money, and to everybody else on credit cos he can then sell the debt to his highborn customers whenever harvest time rolls around and they need a few more warm bodies. I knew what I was getting into, but it was my mum. You know?”
That was a not-so-subtle gesture toward common ground, but I was not interested in diving into my own relationship with my mother, least of all with this guy. “And so you reckon what happened to you was fair.”
Auron shrugged. “What the fuck in life is fair? No sense whining about it. It’s no worse a deal than most people get. I told you it wasn’t much of a story, preacher man, and there’s nothing special about it, either. Everybody here’s got a story a lot like that, some of ‘em a lot worse. There’s a couple dozen stories like it in every village in Dlemathlys. You try to listen to ‘em all and you’ll never get anything else done. Rich people being greedy is not a problem that can be solved. It’s always been that way, and always will be, everywhere. What’s the use complaining?”
My legs were starting to ache in this position, but before standing I reached out and ripped the dart out of his leg.
Auron hissed and jerked. “Ow!”
“If you don’t complain,” I said, finally straightening up, “how’s anybody supposed to know you need help? Heal.”
I couldn’t directly see the effect of the burst of pink light, as the wound was covered by his trouser leg, which was already soaked with blood. Auron glanced down at it and then back up at me.
“I know, I know,” I said before he could speak, giving him a wry little smile. “You’re not accustomed to anybody bothering to help. And that, my friend, is just one of the ways they keep themselves in power without ever having to go to the trouble of deserving it. A hopeless populace is much easier to keep in line. Tell me, have you ever heard of wage garnishment?”
“The…what?”
“Garnishing wages. When someone falls into debt, their creditor obtains a court order, which is then presented to their employer, requiring a portion of their earnings to go to the creditor, leaving them just enough income to live on. It’s better for the debtor, obviously, because they retain their freedom. It’s better for the creditor because it extends the duration of the debt, thus extending the interest and their total profit. Certainly better for the economy itself; a slave on a farm isn’t buying any goods or services, while a free citizen is doing their part to keep capital in circulation. That helps everyone who has anything to buy or sell.”
Auron blinked twice. “Uh…”
“And then there’s the fact that slavery is the least cost-effective way to run a workforce,” I continued, glancing up and down the row of tied bandits. A few looked confused, many intrigued, but I had everyone’s full attention. “There’s a whole science of human motivation. An effective laborer is a healthy, well-fed, fully rested, properly socialized laborer. In particular, people are by far at their most productive when they can gain pride and a sense of belonging from their work—something to truly invest themselves in. When you look at the data, these intangible incentives make a massive difference in the bottom line. Nobody’s work is more inefficient than a slave’s—somebody with nothing to look forward to and no stake in what they’re doing. Not to mention that if you keep a slave, you’re responsible for their upkeep—a big, unnecessary expense. Ending indenture in favor of garnishment would even save the government money in enforcing it; everything’s done by the same bureaucrats who’d be drawing up these contracts of service. No need to employ guards to haul people away in chains.”
“Yeah, well… I guess that idea hasn’t made its way here yet.”
I barked a laugh full of derision and void of humor. “Oh, please. Any legal system sophisticated enough to have and enforce contracts of indenture can execute wage garnishments with a lot less effort. But then, you see, they wouldn’t get the satisfaction of putting people in chains.”
Auron straightened again, frowning at me. “You actually think—”
“That is the great misconception,” I said, “no, the great lie at the heart of corrupt power. The idea that the people brutalizing this country—any country—are just greedy. Greed is something anyone can relate to; thinking of our self-styled masters this way masks the depth of their monstrosity. Greed is already a vice in and of itself, so its use as an explanation for their corruption dissuades people from looking deeper, keeps us from realizing just how vile they truly are. It prevents us from seeing the reality: that these ‘greedy’ people are willing to pay extra to inflict greater suffering. They could be making so much more money, enjoying so much more power,if they actually ran this country in a way that made any fucking sense. It’s not all that hard! Even lowborn have enough business sense not to fuck everything up as badly as the Clans—you can tell, because of how many lowborn actually run businesses. If you can manage a successful bandit gang, you could run a Clansguard better than anyone actually doing that.”
I could feel it happening again; it was running away from me, the words spilling out and projecting so powerfully through the night that I really hoped nobody else was out here hunting for a bandit camp. Give me an audience and something worth ranting about, and my self-control started to suffer. I tried to devote a distant corner of my mind to being aware of it, but this time I didn’t regret or attempt to pause the flow. So far, I was having exactly the effect I intended, I could tell from the rapt expressions all around me, some of the bandits seeming almost to forget I was holding them prisoner as they nodded along with my rant.
“If you’re honestly greedy, if you reduce the value of life to the coldest calculations, a human being is good for fifty to sixty years of solid labor, at least. Any system that’s working them to death in five isn’t greedy, it’s comically wasteful for the purpose of being sadistic. The point of those farms isn’t the wheat you brought in, it was the pain and deprivation you suffered to do it. This country is the way it is because the mansions and diversions and comforts of the powerful just don’t feeeeel as special if they can’t look down on people living in abject misery. Its core governing principle is that they can’t get hard if they can’t hear someone weeping! They’re not even human anymore. There is nothing inside them—just a bottomless appetite for more shit they don’t even really want, for the pain it causes others to supply it, and the hollow satisfaction of feeling better than someone else. Toppling the Clans, slitting every last aristocratic throat and making fountains of noble blood wouldn’t even count as murder! What else can you do with a bunch of rabid fucking animals?!”
At that, I actually got yells of approval—from the bandits I had taken prisoner and just threatened to kill. God damn,I’m good. I mean, sure, I was capitalizing on countless years’ worth of built-up misery and resentment, but still. Doesn’t mean I’m not good.
But I had admittedly strayed off my planned curriculum for this event, and now needed to bring things back on point.
“But of course, this creates a…dilemma that must be reconciled.” I surveyed my captives for a long moment, relishing the way I had commanded abrupt and total silence simply by a change in my demeanor. “None are free of sin. All of us, merely to survive, have preyed on those whose only crime was being too weak to stop us. We must bear responsibility, and be mindful of the debts we have incurred, but there is no benefit in recrimination. Keeping us all at each other’s throats is how they stay in control. Unless we are willing to forgive and embrace those who have been our enemies, we will always be either slaves or outcasts. Only in solidarity can we achieve our revenge on those who have oppressed us.”
I held up one hand to silence the displeased stirring I could hear from my own followers, not looking back at them.
“But.”
During my next three-second pause for emphasis, one of the bandits audibly whimpered. Splendid; it was so nice to have an obliging foil to play off.
“Some actions go further than can be suffered,” I said, putting on a grim tone and folding my arms. “Some among you have lost yourselves in your misfortune, forgotten what it means to live as a human being, and mimicked your own oppressors by wallowing in pointless cruelty. I have come to bring judgment, and absolution for those I can. For the rest? I hear the cries of those you believed you had silenced. For those who have let themselves become monsters, there is only vengeance.”
Finally, I turned halfway around, putting myself in profile to both the bandits and my…well, bandits, I guess.
“Who has an accusation to bring against those here?”
It did not surprise me in the least that Mierit was the first to step forward and point at one of the prisoners, her outstretched hand trembling in barely-contained fury. I glanced down at the object hanging from her other hand; well, now I knew what she’d been doing with the excess rope while I’d been talking.
“Him,”Mierit spat. “He’s been to Cat Alley half a dozen times. He likes to choke girls. No asking if they’re up for it, let alone paying for rough stuff. It’s gotta be a surprise. Every time he leaves bruises, at best. This son of a bitch is the reason Lairit can’t sing anymore. He killed Tamnyn—she was my friend. He’s killed one other woman that I know of! And nothing worse happened to him than being banned from half a dozen brothels. Women are dead so this piece of shit could get his rocks off!”
The man at whom she pointed was big and broad-shouldered, with enough of a paunch that I figured banditry must be going pretty well. Or more likely, he’d been taking food from weaker members of the gang, some of whom were painfully scrawny. He was now frowning at Mierit in slack-jawed confusion.
“I see.” I raised an eyebrow, turning to sweep a critical look across the captive bandits, coming to rest on Auron. “And does anyone speak in this man’s defense?”
Auron just sighed softly, gave a tiny shake of his head and refused to look in the direction of the accused.
“And you?” I asked him. “Anything to say for yourself?”
The man’s eyebrows drew together in a look as if he were physically pained by the effort of following this conversation. “What? I don’t… They was just whores. I paid! That’s what they’re there for. What’s the big deal?”
The collective indrawing of breath from the women behind me promised imminent violence.
“Raec,” Auron whispered in a tone of pure awe, “you stupid motherfucker.”
I had to agree. This was not going to be any loss to the gene pool.
“Mierit,” I said, turning to her. “I don’t have to tell you the sentence. Do you claim the privilege of carrying it out?”
She nodded at me once, her expression so furious I imagined she might be having trouble forming words. Mierit stalked toward Raec, raising the hand in which she held the recently-tied noose.
“Hey, wait,” Raec protested, beginning to struggle against the bandits bound to either side of him—who, in a display of classic bandit solidarity, were both trying to pull as far from him as they could manage.
“This one’s a heavy-looking side of beef,” I commented. “Mierit could probably use a helping hand or two.”
Three more women strode forward immediately, bearing out Mierit’s accusations; she clearly wasn’t the only one who recognized this guy.
With the four of them working and none of the nearby bandits daring to interfere, she got the noose around his neck with only a minimum of trouble. Mierit wrapped the rope around both her hands for traction, planted one foot against Raec’s back, and pulled. He outweighed her by a fair bit; it took two of her comrades helping hold him down and the third to join in tugging the rope, but they did it.
The execution was carried out in grim silence. All four women pushed and pulled according to their respective positions, unrelenting and in the cold silence of well-earned, vindicated hatred. Not one of the other members of the gang raised so much as a peep of protest, whether out of fear of consequences or because none of them felt any sympathy for Raec I didn’t know, though I suspected a bit of both.
I watched the man die, choking and twitching and turning blue, with an impassive face. A couple of months ago, I’d have had to work at keeping that expression steady. By this point, I had seen too much death and dealt a lot of that myself. I just didn’t have enough sympathy left to cover the likes of this asshole.
Mierit was gasping when they finally released the rope, leaving the lifeless bulk of Raec to topple against the next man, who kicked him off with a grimace of revulsion.
“Well done,” I said. “Who else brings an accusation?”
***
It was a grim night’s work, all told. In the end, I was both proud and a little appalled at how efficiently it all went down. I repressed the latter in favor of the former. In fact, I ended up repressing a lot, not entirely voluntarily.
Apparently bandits didn’t get the visit Cat Alley very often, and enough of those who did behaved themselves, more or less. There were only two more executions based on accusations from the women I’d brought. In both cases, there was not a peep of protest from their comrades. That gave me reason to hope the next stage would go well.
It went almost too well. I had picked up on hints that there wasn’t a lot of solidarity or camaraderie among this group, but if anything, I’d underestimated how eager they were to turn on each other, to judge by how fervently they did it when given the opportunity. We actually had a bit of trouble getting this witch hunt organized once I started it by asking the bandits if any among them deserved vengeance.
I was well aware that what I was doing here was a mockery of justice, but I’d been careful not to promise justice—in fact, I had very specifically told my people not to expect that. I promised them revenge, nothing more or less, and that was what I handed out.
A couple of obvious personal feuds I ignored, in favor of the much greater number of unanimous condemnations. Overall, the members of the gang who made a habit of going too far were well known to their comrades, who if anything seemed eager to throw them into the fire.
I killed eight more based on the overwhelming testimony of their own fellow gang members. Bullies, sadists, murderers, rapists… Fucking hell, why were there always rapists? Everywhere I went, more of these stains had to be put down. In my previous life I’d been contemptuous of the tendency of fiction to use that as lazy shorthand for “don’t sympathize with this person, just enjoy their karmic demise.” And yet, here I was, facing how unbelievably common it apparently was. The implications bothered me profoundly. Was this just what people did when there wasn’t a legal framework in place to stop them?
How common was this on Earth? Surely not as… I put that aside as something I had neither the capacity nor a reason to deal with.
Auron, perhaps sensing which side of his bread was buttered, proved quite useful. I took to consulting his input on the cases I judged, taking his word as a tie-breaker in the few cases when there was a disagreement. Apparently he commanded at least some respect from his followers, if not actual loyalty; not a soul objected to his judgments, except the specific people he condemned. For his part, Auron showed no attachment to the men and one woman he affirmed to me deserved the rope. I got the distinct impression he was relieved to be rid of most of them.
Not that we used the rope, after that first guy. I had an artifact rapier that could find a lethal spot to stab at a thought from me. And yes, I did my own killing, after the first three whose deaths provided catharsis to the women who needed it. I had instigated all this; I deemed it my responsibility. No one else needed to bloody their hands over my own unjust decisions.
It helped a lot that my Wisdom power kicked in after I impaled the first screaming man through his left eye socket and the brain behind it. Traumatic dissociation turned into a cold, blank efficiency. All unfeeling judgment and no emotion.
My old buddy Rugin was among the condemned. Apparently, he liked to shoot people with arrows when there wasn’t a need—he was particularly fond of shooting them in the back while they tried to run. In my Blessing-induced fugue, I felt nothing as I silenced his tearful pleading by whipping the tip of my rapier through his throat.
The entire thing was…a blur. I was aware, dimly, of the importance of this. Both strategically, and in the sense of more stains on my soul that were never going to come out. But I coasted through it in a detached fog as if skimming a passage in a particularly dull book. Screams of terror and anger washed over me, blending together into meaningless noise. I opened enough bodies that the dirt under my feet squelched with blood at every step. And I just kept going through it.
Until I found I had flicked the tip of my sword through Auron’s bindings and cast another quick Heal on him, allowing him to stand up before the rest of his surviving gang. There were now eleven, including the leader.
“So…what now, preacher man?”
I stared at him in silence. The dispassionate state induced by the Wisdom effect seemed incompatible with my innate tendency toward theatricality, but in this case, it worked. A blank, cold stare had exactly the result I wanted.
“I mean…” Auron cleared his throat, grimaced, and ducked his head, making an abortive gesture that looked like it would have been folding down hands had he finished it. “Dark Lord.”
“That depends on you,” I said at last. Suddenly, I was beginning to feel twinges of emotion returning, and suspected I had better get through the rest of this quickly before I ended up embarrassing myself in front of all these people just when I’d gone to such trouble to impress them. “Each of you has a decision to make.”
Auron narrowed his eyes, then cocked his head slightly to one side. He had a knack for expressing himself without speaking.
“So, is this what you’re gonna do?” he asked. “Revenge? For everyone?”
“When I can, and when it’s earned. I want to be as clear with you as I have been with those who came here with me: I do my very best to protect and care for my people, but we are about a bloody, brutal business. There will be no safety, no justice, no guarantee of freedom. In the end, probably a violent death. All I promise is the chance to strike back.”
He rubbed his recently-unbound wrists, frowning pensively. “That alchemist in town.”
“If he’s still there when we take Gwyllthean?” I nodded. “Sounds like the bastard has it coming.”
Auron shifted his head to look aside at his remaining followers.
“Fuck yeah, boss!” the woman identified as Jenit shouted.
“Sounds like it beats the shit out of our current, uh, backers,” added another man.
“Speaking of that,” Auron said, looking back at me. “We have an…arrangement with Clan Olumnach. A pretty one-sided one.”
“Oh, you had better believe I have plans for them.” Yep; it was wearing off. The icy relish in my voice was unfeigned, and on its heels I felt a welling horror at what had just transpired. I had killed eleven people, most of them personally but all at least at my order, and the whole thing had passed like some kind of bad dream once I got done putting on my little show.
Auron laughed aloud, an outburst of sheer confused emotion. “Well, fuck me running, boys and girls. Looks like we’re joining the Dark Crusade. Who woulda thought?”
I nodded at Aster and Adelly, who began untying the surviving bandits I had just press-ganged from the corpses of their companions who hadn’t made the cut.
“We have a lot to talk about, while we clean up here and depart,” I said to Auron, the former bandit boss and my new subordinate. “Tell me about Clan Olumnach.”
Comments
fionag11
Oh, she's fist pumping. "Sanora's kid is boring, but boy did I ever pick a winner!"
Russell Todd
Gotta wonder if Virya is just invisibly chilling in the background with a bucket of popcorn
Eric
I've often wondered about Seiji casual killing of people. Yes he's a dick, but not a stone cold killer. It's nice to see him struggle with killing.
fionag11
The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall.
Wolfkit
I was going to make a comment about Seiji using too many big words for his audience, but then I remembered that the Fflyr like to read a lot, so they actually might know all those words.
