Chapter 25
Those first days on Second Island may have been a twilight time for the other apprentices, but for éadha it was a time of two worlds.
A world above and a world below, linked only by the slender shafts sunk into the cliffs beneath Second House.
Master Dathin had ordered her to go for remedial training as punishment for failing Senan at the autumn trials.
So starting on her first morning on Second Island, the day after the Welcome Ball, éadha rose each day just after dawn and slipped through the morning halls to the heavy gate that barred the entrance to the Fodder Holds.
The first time she reported to the entrance she was met by Head Keeper Maebh.
Where Fiachna was tall and almost gaunt, Maebh was of average height, with rounded curves that showed even under her Keeper robe.
Her expression, though, was as severe as Fiachna’s, her lips compressed as she looked éadha up and down.
“So you’re the troublemaker? Well. It’s always good to learn early where troublemaking leads. Come,” she said, and led her into a windowless wooden box. With a jolt, éadha felt herself falling.
“Don’t worry,” said Maebh with the ghost of a smile as she saw éadha’s knuckles whiten, gripping tight to the handholds cut into the box sides. “It’s Channeller-operated, and we’re not short of power down here.”
They passed several doorways cut into the rock as they descended. Following éadha’s gaze, Maebh said briefly, “Those upper levels are my office and the infirmary; below are the holds. I’m just about to start my rounds, so you’ll follow me.”
They landed with a soft thump on the sandy floor of the lowest level and stepped out into the main Fodder Hold.
It was a cavernous space at sea level, a sequence of natural caves hollowed out further by the Channellers over generations.
The walls were bare rock, fresh water running down them in places and collecting on the sand-and-stone floor into rivulets that led eventually to the sea outside.
In front as far as she could see stretched row after row of bunk beds, some four and five beds high where the cave roof permitted, others only one or two where the ceiling sloped down to the floor.
The light was dim: torches set into the walls, hissing and flickering in the damp air.
Maebh set off ahead of her, accompanied by a group of Keepers and guards.
éadha fell in behind. Many of the beds in the first section were occupied by sleeping forms, and Maebh stopped at each one, carefully examining the occupant, taking their pulse, lifting their eyelids, measuring their waists, and barking instructions.
Most were left to sleep on; some were put onto trolleys and wheeled away to the elevator.
In one case the person didn’t respond at all.
Shaking her head in irritation, Maebh gestured to one of the guards as éadha realized with a jolt the person was dead.
The guard wrapped the body in its bedsheet and hoisted it over his shoulder, carrying it away.
In the next cave, people sat in a circle on stone seats hollowed out of the wall.
Each seat had arms and a ledge in front, with each person chained to their seat, the chain just long enough to allow them to slump forward onto the ledge but no farther.
Above them rose a shaft hollowed out in the cliff, so their life force could be more easily reached from the surface.
Beneath the row of stone seats, a narrow trough had been dug into the floor.
Sick with horror, éadha watched as streams of urine trickled from some of the seated forms into the trough, which sloped down into the natural rivulets to be carried away.
They were the Fodder currently in use, being channeled from far above by the Masters and apprentices going about their daily business on the sunny surface of the island.
More even than the state of the people around her, it was the brutal efficiency that scared her most. The way the seats were designed to hold them up, the shaft allowing easy access to them from above, the culverts for the urine so they wouldn’t have to be moved even to relieve themselves.
While éadha fought down her nausea, Maebh examined each person in the circle, tipping up their chins to check the eyes, feeling some for signs of fever, reaching briefly into their minds, assessing their strength. She stopped at one fair-haired girl and turned to a young Keeper, clearly irritated.
“Why has this one not been kept for evening duty? We’re short on presentables at the moment with the current attrition rate.”
“Yes, Head Keeper, I’m sorry. Master Joen specifically required a full complement today as they’re completing the Library extension. I was planning to put her on a double shift, covering tonight as well.”
Maebh thought for a moment. “Very well. It’s not ideal as she’ll be low by tonight and might expire depending on the games.
Still, we’ve the fresh shipment arriving tomorrow, so we should have enough cover if she does.
Keep her watered, and if the extension is done early, put her down for a sleep—even a couple of hours means we might not lose her. ”
Her rounds done, Maebh returned to the elevator, éadha still in tow.
“Running repairs,” she commented as the doors closed.
éadha was glad she didn’t seem to expect her to say anything.
After what she’d just seen, she wasn’t sure she could.
“It’s the largest Fodder Hold on Domhain,” Maebh continued.
“It’s a logistical nightmare trying to keep so many inexperienced Channellers supplied with power every night, as well as providing the Masters’ power for the day-to-day running of the House.
We’ve to run several shifts day and night, and the attrition rate is high.
Your classmates are a rough group, and when we lose Fodder, it’s a long journey from Erisen to bring out more.
We’re having to manage on a skeleton supply at the moment until the next shipment arrives.
And then we’ll have all the Masters claiming they need the fresh Fodder more; they all love that first draw. ”
The elevator stopped at a door cut from the rock.
“I’m assigning you to Records. It’s where we usually put apprentices sent for disciplining. Good for motivation.”
They’d entered the Head Keeper’s offices on the higher levels. Here the rooms were bright, with windows tunneled from the rock looking out to sea, furnished with sturdy wooden tables and chairs. éadha was directed to another group of Keepers leafing through piles of paper.
These were the Records, details of the people sent by boat from Erisen to Second Island as Fodder.
In each case they listed the age, the weight, and the technical assessments of their reserves, as well as the reason for being sent.
Some were “volunteers”—skilled workers ordered by their Channeller to do a stint in order to make up numbers, or as a punishment for some minor transgression, or simply because there wasn’t enough regular work for them to do.
Others were “swept”—unemployed, unskilled people who could be taken at any stage by a Master or Channeller for use.
Last were the renegades—those considered to be opposed to or critical of Channeller rule.
Some caught on tracker patrol, others reported by Family members or Masters for holding problematic views.
After the first few confusing days, the allocations began to make sense to éadha.
The renegades were the most dispensable, sent where particularly heavy drains were likely, meaning a real risk of losing their lives.
The swept were next, slightly less likely to be assigned to fatal work, and finally the volunteers, those with the best chance of surviving their time on Second Island and returning to Erisen, though whether they’d ever regain the strength to resume their former lives was a matter of luck.
They came in every shape, size, and color: young, old, men, women, craftspeople, musicians, skilled and unskilled, ugly, beautiful.
The Channellers didn’t care; they were simply a resource, vessels for the energy that sustained the Channeller way of life.
éadha was put writing out fresh arm tags for each of the Fodder, listing their basic details and strength levels.
She sat with a group of junior Keepers, listening with a mix of revulsion and fear as they swapped tales of people’s different ruses to conceal their strength.
Some of the renegades, in particular, had rudimentary shielding skills, but an experienced Keeper could quickly break through to find whatever pathetic stores of energy they’d hidden away; anyone caught doing this was severely punished.
Every time she heard the Keepers joke about breaking down Fodder defenses, éadha’s senses went instinctively to her own thought-wall, praying this was one defense Maebh and her Keepers weren’t able to detect.
As Maebh told everyone every day on her rounds, “The best kind of Fodder is exhausted Fodder.”
This was her one overriding goal: efficiency. Keep the Fodder permanently drained to the point of near collapse; give them the minimum amount of time to rest and recover before being drained once more. That way they needed less supervision and had no strength to plot dissent or try to escape.