Chapter Ten #2
to the question of zoanthrope origin. Namely, it’s the observation that all beastpeoples have a wide variety of superficial animal
characteristics, with an accompanying difference in strength, stature, stamina,
and so on, but they all, to a species, share the same underlying body plan as a
human. All people like you are essentially human, in the ways that really
matter. The question is: why?”
“Well,
why not?” Zaria asked. “Always seemed to me that us folk work the fields while
you lot spin your magic. It’s the natural inclination. People work according to
their ability.”
“That’s
the socioeconomic picture,” Isaac corrected. “What I’m discussing is
ecological. As in, why do these differences exist at all? Why is everyone not
merely human? How did people like you or I come to be in the first place?
Naturalists are beginning to understand how species propagate across the
environment, and the discoveries they’ve made have raised some very fundamental
questions.” He glanced at her. “For example, who came first? Humans or
zoanthropes?”
Zaria
shrugged.
“The
Human Paradox,” Isaac said, “would suggest that humans came first, and all
zoanthropes evolved afterward, as this fits our observation of shared anatomy.
Clearly, that’s the common mold. The fact that the average zoanthrope is
physically superior to humans also suggests an improvement in the base
structure. But where did humans come from? We know now that we must have been
born of the natural world, rather than created by the gods, but we haven’t
found a single precursor species that would point to the origin. Furthermore,
how did zoanthropes multiply into such a diverse collection of species? Why did
it matter that one person be a hyena and one person be a cat, or a pig, or any
other animal? What pressure was causing this?”
Zaria
scratched the fur behind her ear.
“I’m
losing you,” Isaac said. “Sorry. The point I was trying to make,” he gestured
at the relief, “is that the necromancers tried to answer this question, too.
You see the different species rising from the coffins?”
“Aye.”
“I’m
beginning to suspect that the necromancers created the zoanthrope
races.” He gestured at the rest of the artwork, pointing out the helmeted gods
and the parting sky above. “Clearly, this is a religious allegory, but the
necromancers did possess some extraordinary technology. There has been growing
evidence that they molded flesh as easily as bone.”
Zaria
made a noise in her throat. “That three-headed dog did paint a picture.”
“Oh, it
did.”
“I
imagine them bonesuckers had a nasty purpose in mind,
same way a farmer might breed a sow for meat. They’d make us strong just to
work us harder.”
“That
seems the idea. I imagine they made you in the likeness of animals to enforce
the idea of slavery. In other words, of being lesser than them.”
She
blew a raspberry, looking away. “I ain’t a slave.”
“No one
should be.”
She
grunted.
“I
should stress,” Isaac said, “that I’m not an archaeologist, or a historian, or
even a linguist. This is just my interpretation.” He brushed the excess
charcoal from the vellum, carefully sealing the tablet inside his pack. As he
stood up, he noted that the god in the mural had the stripes and stars symbol
patched on his shoulder, like a battle standard. “Let’s keep moving.”
They
continued on through the street. Above, the giant rib cage continued to spread
out above a black ceiling of dirt. Isaac had been using the colossal bones to
track their progress through the necropolis. Building a city in the likeness of
human bones was certainly an inspired architectural direction, but it did make
everything look the same. It felt like he was passing the same pelvis-shaped
apothecary over and over.
“Squire,”
Zaria said, poleaxe held loose in hand. “Question for you.”
“A
question on ecology?”
“Personal
one.”
Isaac
kept his focus on a perpendicular street, thinking he spied
a statue in a distant plaza. The form was human, but stretched. The posture was
agonized. “If you must.”
“You
thought more about what you’ll do with your half of the treasure?”
“I
have, actually.”
“Oh?
Truly?”
“A
little.”
“Well,
come now. Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“I want
to travel the world,” Isaac said, blurting it out. It had taken conscious
effort to talk about his own interests, and it felt even more strange to
continue speaking after answering the question. “I’ll use the treasure to pay
for passage on a ship, and the chartering of caravans, and the help of local
guides, and food, and rooms, and wine, and whatever else. I’ll just . . . keep
going until the coin runs out. Eventually, I’ll settle somewhere exotic, ply my
trade as a journeyman, and move on again.”
Zaria
gave an amused, wordless hum. Once again, she was slowing her long gait to walk
beside him. “Somewhere specific catch your interest?”
He
almost spoke. Instead, he glanced away.
“Oh, I
know that look,” she said. “You’re sharing this.”
“I,
uh—” He scratched his neck. “I don’t have anywhere specific in mind. There are
plenty of places to scratch off a list, but the idea—well, my
idea was that I would just stuff coin and supplies in my pack, choose a random
direction, and start walking towards the horizon. I would go where the wind
took me, more or less.” He shrugged, still looking away. “I don’t know. It’s
just a fantasy of mine. I’ve probably read too many adventure novels.”
“It is
rather like begging to be robbed,” she said. “Nonetheless, it’s got a charming
whimsy to it. Almost romantic, even.”
“Well,
I am a very romantic person.”
She
snorted. “Are you now?”
“I’ve
never had the chance to be one before. Not openly, at least. I’m probably not
very good at it yet.” He managed to glance at her. “And maybe you should’ve
asked.”
“Maybe
I will.”
Slowly,
the streets seemed to shift around them. They were entering the deeper reaches
of the city, towards the midsection of the torso, and this seemed to be the
district for craftsmen and life-extending casters. He was beginning to see more
mortuaries, higher-class homes that could afford to look like mausoleums,
smaller catacombs next to hospitals where citizens could go to replenish their
stolen energy of souls.
“Squire,”
Zaria said. “Another question for you.”
“I
suppose,” Isaac said, “that we can’t just contemplate the fall of
civilization.”
“Actually,
I got several questions, to tell the truth. Serious ones. I’m starting to
suspect it’s critical I ask them.”
He
gestured for her to continue, glancing at the faded paint of a mural.
“First
off,” she said, “I notice you no longer bristle when I call you squire.”
“I’m
just picking my battles.”
“I
don’t see much fightin’ back.”
“Maybe
I don’t need to prove myself to you.”
She
laughed. “Sure, squire. As you say.”
He made
another gesture for her to continue, looking over his shoulder at the
retreating mural.
“Firstly,”
she said, “a day ago, you said some jumble about there being these fancy
machines that can locate soul energy, right?”
“Yes,”
he said. “They’re prototypes, currently, but developing rapidly. That’s how we
know my father is still alive, at the bottom of this tomb.”
“Right,
so, if that’s the case—” She gestured vaguely, searching for the words. “If
they can locate souls real precise-like, can they do nothing else? Tell you
what state he’s in?”
“It
can’t detect the body. Only the soul. We don’t know the condition of his
health, though we can still talk to him.”
“Talk—”
She glanced at him in surprise. “Talk to him?”
“Sure. The
soul is the essence of a person. It’s instant communication, as well. You can
talk to a person thousands of miles away, as if they were right at your table.
The Diet has largely only been able to function due to these diplomatic
channels.”
There
was a silence. When Isaac glanced up, Zaria was visibly struggling to overcome
her surprise. “Fuck my first question, then. Does that mean you’ve actually
spoken to your father?”
“No,”
Isaac said. “Of course not.”
Zaria
was now utterly baffled. “What’s that mean, course not? He’s your bleeding
sire, and you’re risking life and limb to rescue him.”
“It’s
not that simple. It’s like—” It was his turn to gesture vaguely. “It’s like
telescopes. Something you use to study the heavens.”
“Like a
sextant?”
“More
like a spyglass. Imagine if you built this machine to study the stars, which
was one of the few of its kind in existence. Imagine if it was difficult to
actually use this machine, because the stars are so vast, and the machine
itself is very complex in operation. Now imagine there’s a long list of people
who also want to use this machine, enough that the formal appointments can take
years to arrive. That’s how it is with soul capture, more or less.”
“Right,”
she said, not at all mollified. “Still, he’s your father. You never asked?”
“I
asked plenty of times,” he replied. “The answer was always no.”
“Should’ve
asked harder, then.”
“Zaria,
if you were a child, and you were struck every time you spoke without
permission, how long would you keep asking questions?”
“Fair
point.” She looked down at him. “Still, it raises another question. Your
uncle’s high ranking in the mage world, isn’t he? Has he spoken to your
father?”
Isaac
grimaced. “Yes. Twice, actually. When I was first placed in his care, and not
too long before I left on this journey.”
“And
that seemed fair to you? You being denied words with your sole parent, all your
life? The man you’d been conscripted to save?”
“Like I
said, speaking up was never good for my health.”
She
nodded, glancing down a softly shadowed alley. “Second question, then. Do all
mages go through such strict training as you?”
“I was
always told this journey was my sole purpose in life,” Isaac said. “My training
needed to be extremely strict to meet the task. Magic is difficult to learn