Paul O Williams - [Pelbar Cycle 04] Read online

  “It not done. He—”

  “You do it or you hear from Committee.”

  “You out of order. You not speak for Committee.”

  “Do it,” the voice screamed again. From below there was silence. The workleader rolled Gamwyn over on his back. Looking up, the dazed boy saw the pudgy girl in the window staring down.

  “All right. It on your head, not mine,” the man said. Gamwyn felt arms lifting him and dragging him through the gate to the middle circle, then into the darkness of one of the houses. He felt hands moving over him, roughly scrubbing him dry, rolling him into a blanket in a comer padded with sacks of something like grass. Something hot came to his mouth. He felt himself cradled against a woman, her cloth-swathed ample softness against his cheek. Again the warm drink came. And again. He knew little else but was vaguely aware of arguing. But Gamwyn’s mind whirled and sank. He no longer cared about anything. The woman’s voice scolded and chided, but her warm hands arranged things around him and placed everything just right.

  “Mother? Mother?” Gamwyn asked vaguely.

  “No. Not your mother, you piece of dirt. We forced. Lie still. You get well.”

  “Piece? Piece of dirt?” Gamwyn said absently, then everything faded to black.

  When he finally awoke, he looked up at a round, middle-aged woman’s face, her hair straying, her eyes fixed on his. “There. Finally you wake up. Four days. It four days you lie here. A log. Now I demand you work for me to make it up. Four days.”

  “Mother? Mother?”

  The woman shook him, then wiped the comer of her eye with the back of her hand. Gamwyn felt the warm drink come to his mouth again, and he took it gratefully in long swallows, finally gasping, “Four days? I’m sorry. I have been much trouble.” Again he felt a total misery and began to cry. The woman held his head against her, spitting softly to her husband, who sat across the room sharpening a tool. “Look at this. Mere boy. Weak. Poor Peshtak spy cries for his mother. What this, anyway? Committee girl looking in all time. Nothing right. Why you not make well right first time, anyway?”

  “It old well, Maatha. Too bad it not summer. Couldn’t wait.”

  The door opened, and the pudgy girl entered. She was richly dressed in fine cloth, a sweeping tunic reaching to her calves, with high boots. The two stood, hands clasped in front of them, heads boWed.

  “He awake now. You send him back? You satisfied, I hope.”

  The girl glared, then said, “Leave me with him. He too weak to hurt me. Wait outside.”

  The two went reluctantly. As Maatha went out the door, she poked her head back in and said, “He just woke. He needs to sleep again soon. Not ready to go back yet. Soon enough.”

  The girl turned toward the door but said nothing. After it closed, she stood close, looking down at Gamwyn. “You, Peshtak spy. What your name?”

  “Gamwyn.”

  “Slave Gamwyn. What kind of name that?”

  “The one my mother gave me. It’s an old one in the family.”

  “You talk oddly. Strange words. Extra words.”

  ‘Thank you. I would have been dead but for you.” Gamwyn’s mind suddenly became clear for the first time in days. “If you hadn’t stopped them, they would have killed me or let me die.”

  “You have many years of hard work left in you. Not very intelligent to let you die.”

  “You believe that, don’t you—all this rot about making people slaves and working them until they die.”

  She snorted. “It scientifically designed society. Committee worked it all out. It functions beautifully. All needs taken care of. Better for you to serve such society than useless.”

  Gamwyn suddenly was tired of the conversation. He turned on his side. He felt her boot reach out to turn him on his back again. “Go away,” he said. “There is no use trying to reason with you. Your mind is closed to truth and justice, except what is good for you.”

  “Truth? Justice? You spy say that? Peshtak? We hear about you.”

  “What’s your name?”

  She flounced toward the door, then turned. “Slaves do not ask names of Committee. You work. You not understand much.”

  Suddenly she came back and knelt down by him. He felt her warm breath reach down to him as she kissed his cheek. “You beautiful,” she whispered.

  Gamwyn reeled in bewilderment. He did nothing as she cradled his head against her. Abruptly she stood up again. “Insult me! After all I do!”

  “Please,” Gamwyn said. “I don’t mean to insult you. I don’t know what to do. Want me to kiss you back? Me? A slave, worthy of working my life away, beaten and herded by those black-bodied beasts of yours, treated with the utmost cruelty, given nothing, no music, no reading, no kindness, all in the ugliest of societies, without a concept of decency, of worship, with no breadth of vision or depth of perception, a society without real purpose, a surface manipulation of bestiality?”

  The girl stood stupefied. “Where you learn to talk like that?”

  “At home, of course.”

  Gamwyn watched the girl’s eyes dart around the room. Something was sinking in. She reached for the door latch. “I Daw,” she said. “Daw, daughter of Central Committee chairman. Good-bye.” She left immediately, slamming the door. The workleader and his wife reentered, then stood looking at Gamwyn. Their eyes touched, and all registered bewilderment.

  Then a Nicfad entered without knocking. He wore the white stripe on his hat and back, the mark of an officer. He strode over to Gamwyn, glared down at him, and spat. Then he whirled to face the workleader.

  “Ahks,” he said. “You will complain to Central Committee about this. In your own name. Not mine. That understood?”

  “I? I have no ... boy—•”

  “You will. This out of order. We cannot have dripping-heart girls interfering with order.” A knife snicked out from his belt. He waved it in front of the man’s face. “Understood? Immediately.” The man nodded. The Nicfad slammed him against the wall and left.

  The woman began to cry. “It wrong. Now all go wrong. We between Committee and Nicfad. All wrong.”

  The two held each other. “No hope for it,” the man said. “I’ll go now. They watching for sure.” He left, and the woman walked to Gamwyn and stared down at him. “You trouble. Trouble from start.” Then she reached down and straightened the blanket over him, smoothing it.

  The next morning, Gamwyn felt even stronger. He was sitting up sipping the last of a bowl of stew when the door opened and three Nicfad entered. The white stripe announced, “Central Committee hear your complaint now. Come. Bring slave.” The man and his wife exchanged glances. One Nicfad strode to Gamwyn and snatched him upright, then hurled him toward the door. He staggered and emerged. The cobbled circle was scattered with people watching in silence. They walked rapidly in through the circle of the bureaucrats’ houses and on across to a door in the tower. Gamwyn, glancing up, saw it was surmounted by seven white skulls fastened to the lintel. The Nicfad shoved Gamwyn inside, and the group, joined by four other Nicfad, tramped down a corridor and through a wide door. Gamwyn noticed that all the construction appeared to be of wood, with stone pavement.

  They emerged into a large room, and Gamwyn faced a dais at which seven people—hooded so that their faces were completely shrouded—sat at a long desk. A human skull stood upright, affixed to each end of the desk. Opposite the long desk were tiered seats, in which a scattering of people sat stiffly with hands folded. Gamwyn was thrust into a seat at a small table next to an old woman, who turned to him and whispered. “I your counsel. I will speak for you to Central Committee.”

  tsj j “Silence,” a Nicfad commanded. Then he continued, “Workleader Ahks has brought complaint. He has had to care for recalcitrant slave in his own quarters at behest of Daw, daughter of Central Committee. He wishes ruling from Committee on this.”

  The hoods leaned together briefly and conferred. One hood leaned forward and asked, “What says defense?”

  The old woman s
tood, clutching the table. “The boy begs pardon for his recalcitrance. Says fatigue from work on well caused insanity. Wishes to return to slave camp and serve faithfully. Says Daw not at fault. All fault his. Says he will take beating from Nicfad to compensate. Says to thank Ahks and apologize. Says will do extra duty for Ahks to make up for all time necessary.”

  The hoods leaned together, and as the woman sat, Gamwyn looked at her with amazement. “Are you crazy?” he whispered. “What is this? I have—”

  “Silence,” she hissed. “It formality to please Nicfad. Let alone. You want Daw in trouble?”

  “Daw? The girl? You do this for her, then. Oh. No, I would be dead but for her. No.”

  The hoods leaned apart again. “What says Nicfad-leader?” asked the one in the center.

  A man with two stripes down the back of his leather clothing stood. “Respected Committee, we must agree with complaint of workleader. We have difficult task of maintaining order and discipline among working class. We know results of kindness always negative. Know order and strictness always go hand in hand down road of production. Ease brings disorder and loss of production. Brings thoughts of luxury to minds of workers. Social order demands our great watchfulness. Think, with all respect, kindness of Daw to slave misplaced. She still to grow, perhaps, to true views of Committee Statements. Has extended true family affections to unsuitable class. Wish all excused. Agree with Sandra of defense. Glad for agreement of worker.”

  Again Gamwyn stared in amazement. Agreement from worker? He? Again the hoods leaned together. Gamwyn turned and saw Daw sitting behind, beside a tall, thin man in gray, in a high collar. Her eyes were red and puffy. She caught his glance and tossed her head slightly in a sneer. “What says Daw to this?” the central hood then asked. The tall, thin man rose and said, “Honored Committee and others. Daw expressed great regret for incident but wishes to give her reasoning, which not inappropriate kindness, as alleged, but rather forward-looking economic thought. She observed worker repairing well because of small size on successive days. Observed he young. Observed that cold and water overcame him. Observed proper discipline rightly applied by Nicfad might in this case cost Tusco worker’s life. Urges Committee to think ahead. Suppose worker to last another five years. Urges Committee to think of production of worker in this five years. Have calculated it. In terms of gross product of this year, the amounts to production of about ninety-two ten-hundreds of stones of smoke weed, cultivating of thirty-seven ten-hundreds of standard row crops, nine ten-hundreds of standard basket loads of earth for levee, eight ten-hundreds of loads of quarry rock for bank lining, cutting of two ten-hundreds of standard trees for fuel and walls, in addition to work on food drying and preservation and such. She thought it potential loss to U Bend. Bad to dispose of restorable resource.”

  The central hood leaned forward. “But have you thought of cost of maintenance of worker? Surely all you cite not clear profit.”

  “Have calculated that in, Central Committee, with respect, and deducted usual twenty-two hundredths for inefficiency. This resource young. If he lasts more than five years, then profits greater.”

  “That all statement of Daw?”

  “Yes, Central Committee. That all.”

  Again the heads leaned together. They muttered for a long time. At last the central hood rocked back and announced, “Here our judgment. We appreciate action of Ahks in bringing matter to our attention. Appreciate judgment of Nicfad in maintaining order so necessary for our community. Appreciate forward-looking calculations of Daw. Inclined to forgive worker his recalcitrance on grounds of conditions. We reassigning workleader Ahks to reward his alertness to head wood project in south swamp. Much responsibility. Ask Nicfad to forgo beating if worker complies—on grounds of loss to production. Wish to reward Nicfad for continued vigilance by additional allotment of service badges when trade allows. Committee stands adjourned.

  “But while here, and for benefit of worker, who I understand new to us, I wish to make statement. We engaged here in scientific restoration of ordered society after shattering in ancient times. We split from Alats, who became corrupt, centuries ago, before their current decadent phase. Eventually, they will stagger to their fall. We will reconstitute them. We will spread north, then, carrying our ordered social system, with its balance of parts and assignment of tasks, its perfect state organization without messy individual wastes of effort, directionless and erring. We bound to do this by destiny and laws of history.

  “If small adjustments like this necessary, then Committee glad to make them. Now it duty of each section of society to return to right place, give gratefully for good of whole.” He paused and took a sip of some liquid from a jeweled metal goblet. “All must contribute willingly and with good heart. We insist on this. If sacrifice necessary, then sacrifice will have to occur. That all. Ask worker to stay for special counsel.” The central hood then commanded the Nicfad to bind Gamwyn’s arms behind him.

  Gamwyn stood as the Nicfad lifted him up. Then the Central Committee left, all but the middle hood. Sandra also remained. Gamwyn turned and saw Daw leaving on the arm of the tall man. Finally the doors closed. The hood leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. Gamwyn caught the gleam of a ring with a stone in it.

  “You should not punish Ahks,” Gamwyn said. “The south swamp? He did the least wrong of all. He only did what Daw said.”

  The hooded man leaned forward. “You judge then? You, who got off so lightly, got off with nothing? All because of my crying daughter, who would give me no peace if you harmed? Now I undergo suspicion of Nicfad for that, all for you—slave.”

  “I thought you were the head.”

  “They arms, and in arms weapons. Who you, anyway? You Peshtak spy?”

  Gamwyn paused. Was this a trap? “I am whoever you wish me to be. I don’t want to lose a foot.”

  The man reached up and flipped back his hood, revealing a cherubic face, balding and ruddy. He smiled. “You not lose foot. Just tell me. I need to know these things in my own city. Important. We care for needs of all.”

  Gamwyn didn’t know what to say to that. He turned to the old woman and said, “Woman with the ancient name, what is to be said to that?”

  ‘Tell him truth about yourself.”

  “Truth? What do you people know about truth? You make it whatever you wish it to be. You are without pity, without freedom, without real justice.”

  The cherubic face frowned. “Truth? Central Committee truth, boy. If you tell your friends anything, tell that. That truth. What Central Committee decides becomes truth.” He reached out a hand toward the skull on the left corner of the desk. “See him? That what remains of Olio, former Central Committee. He still with us. Case of his skull held truth. Now case of mine holds it. Eventually I too will grace tower, looking out over our country, and another skull will hold truth. That truth.”

  Gamwyn looked at the man, then at the skull. “That’s only the empty shell where a man was,” he said. “He held thoughts, not truth. I’m only a boy, but I know enough to know that truth is more difficult than that I have heard it said that ‘truth is often beyond the reach of men because too pure for their self-interest, too permanent for their immediate demands, too difficult for their desires to struggle with. The approach of truth demands self-sacrifice, forbearance, forgiveness, an outreach of the heart and mind beyond all concerns even of the common good to the windless country beyond the stars.’ ”

  The cherubic man drew back and frowned. Then he stared at Gamwyn and smiled again. “Only shell? Olio only shell? Shells may contain in themselves same perfection of plan our society has. We have -collection of shells here, many brought from sea. If you not slave, might show them to you.” The man watched Gamwyn narrowly and saw him start slightly. The boy dropped his eyes.

  The man folded his thick hands again. “You not Peshtak. You Pelbar. I learned this from Daw’s account of what you say. Now I know she right. What you doing here? Why you tell them you Peshtak?”


  Gamwyn looked up, stunned. He had talked too much. “I didn’t tell them I was Peshtak until they said they would cut my foot off unless I admitted it. I am here because I was cast out by my people. If you know about the Pelbar, you know about that.”

  The man looked at Sandra. “I told you this trouble,” she said. “They now allied to Sentani. What if they find we have him?”

  The man shook his head. “No. They not find out. If they do, they not care. Pelbar not come here. He will fit in. You heard production figures. He may live beyond five years; then we gain even more. But for now he works only in slave compound. For at least year. We want no more contact with Daw. The silly girl. Need to instruct her slowly to correct views.”

  He turned to Gamwyn. “You, boy. You cause more trouble than you worth. Pelbar. Interesting. Woman-ruled. Another decadence. It all will pass. History commands Tusco will rule all.”

  Gamwyn looked up at him, thinking, Right now the river water is seeking a way under us, eating and flowing, and all your rock facing on the river bank will never stop it.

  The Central Committee rang a bell, and a Nicfad entered with his staff. “It satisfactory. Untie him,” the Central Committee chairman said. “For Sandra’s sake, take him out by museum. See if he can read ancient writing. Then confine him to slave compound as agreed. Do not harm unduly.”

  Gamwyn was marched out a different way, through a series of corridors to a room full of strange objects, some from the ancient world. He was led to two small scraps of brownish paper with printing on them. The Nicfad brought a lamp, and Sandra fixed her eyes on him. “Read them,” she said. She held a long stick and a knife to notch it with.

  The first scrap was only a fragment. Gamwyn read, “Exclusions: This endorsement does not apply (a) to any loss arising out of the issuance . . . appropriation of any credit card in the . . . or the commercial pursuits of the insured, or (b) to any loss caused ..