Chapter 22 #3
And in fact I don’t want them to know either, but not for the same reasons.
I cock my head to the side very casually, not otherwise moving; predatory in my stillness.
“Are you going to tell people then why it is, exactly, that you think I, a person they’ve never heard of, am so dangerous to them?” I ask silkily.
Because the fact that she isn’t means she isn’t sure that the reaction will be in her favor, which is very interesting.
The Order, at least, is not confident that the myth of the Sage of Wrath’s defiance against them is to their benefit.
But Eraya simply smiles sweetly and says, “Oh, I think I’ll let them wonder why you won’t say. For all your accusations, you won’t say that you’re not dangerous to them, will you?”
She takes a step toward me.
I take a step, too—to the side.
Teren, I hope, will stay behind me.
But while moving is to my advantage, always, I don’t think looking like I’m trying to intimidate the incarnation of compassion is what I need. But I also can’t step back.
And if I force her to circle, too, perhaps it will be clearer that she, also, is acting with predatory intent.
“Any person can be dangerous, given the right conditions,” I say. “And people together even more so. Or else why else would you be manipulating their feelings with magic without their consent?”
“Do you mean to say that you are not?” Eraya fires back, following me; not willing to be seen to not meet me evenly. Got her. “The courtyard is darker with your presence, Yora.”
Good line and I left her open for that one, but I’m more fixated on her first question.
Seriously, I tell her, “Yes, I will say that clearly: I am not using magic to manipulate anyone’s feelings.
And if you honestly think that I am, it’s you who doesn’t understand your own power, and that means I am not the greater danger here.
Because I am able to be honest with myself about what my actions are doing. Are you?”
Eraya’s eyes narrow. “And did you tell them what building an ice line would mean for them?”
I continue to circle. “Yes, of course we talked about the fact that it would piss the Order off and that would have consequences. But I didn’t have to point that out, because people aren’t stupid.
“Before you tell anyone what is best for them, consider how much you actually know about their lives, because from your position it’s not as much as you think. You can’t be wise about the world without living in it.”
Eraya’s sage-light flares.
Instinct, but not control.
Because people will see her blazing with light, yes.
But they’ll also see me standing against her without any light of my own.
And they can draw their own conclusions about what that means for them.
Eraya proclaims, “Sages cannot, and should not, live among people. History has shown us that.”
“Has it really?” I ask idly. “And that access to magic, too, must be kept away from people outside the Order?”
“Very clearly, yes.” Eraya narrows her eyes at me, evidently not understanding my angle. “It’s for their safety.”
“How patronizing,” I say. “And yet where do the priests come from, too, if not from people?”
“You are speaking of philosophy, while I speak of facts that even children know,” Eraya says. “Perhaps you have not studied how many people—priest and layperson alike—died in the revolution—”
“Yes, yes, if you give people weapons without a manual they will explode them.” I wave away her point. “That means you ought to teach them, not hoard knowledge.”
“Or it means that they don’t need weapons,” Eraya says, pressing her pace. “The Order bears that burden for them, that they might live their lives untroubled from even more responsibilities.”
“If you believe you have the right to decide what responsibilities or knowledge a person can or should or need take up, that is still patronizing. A knife can stab a person, but it can also cut bread. Magic can do many things besides wounding—even if that’s how you wield it, to break people apart.
Is it compassion to teach people that they are fundamentally separate from each other? ”
“Do you think it would be compassion to teach people a lie?” Eraya shoots back.
“I think it’s compassion to teach them to dream,” I tell her seriously.
“To long for the impossible? That would be cruel, Yora. Not every person can be a sage; that is a fact.”
“Impossible can move, with enough force behind the dream,” I say softly, but with a flick of my wrist I make sure the sound carries; hauntingly.
“And that is precisely what the Order under Consul Hakon is working toward,” the Sage of Compassion says fiercely, her light growing. “A dream where we can all be one, not separate. Where we each have our own place to thrive. I’m proud to work for that.”
“A dream that requires any people to be sacrificed is not worthy of any of us.” And before she can proclaim that they are not sacrificing people I add, “You are a person too, Eraya.”
I’m not sure if she understands me. In my time with the Order, I understood that I was a weapon only and not a person. I’m not sure if she realizes that she is in fact a person.
I don’t know if she understands how her aura of compassion is once again disintegrating under the power of my wrath carried only by my words; or if she does, but can’t acknowledge it.
But she does understand that her power works just fine against people who can’t defend against it, but with me opposing her directly, she can’t get a foothold again.
I see her take in the crowd, and whatever she sees there causes her to decide it’s time to quit the field.
“Do you think to speak for Crystal Hollow, then?” Eraya challenges me.
“Absolutely not,” I say vehemently, possibly a little comically given some of the sounds I hear from around us, but wow am I not cut out for that job. “But neither do you. Crystal Hollow will decide for itself what they value. Until then, please respect them enough to let them.”
Eraya turns sadly to the crowd, her showmanship back in full force. “You’re making a mistake,” she says. “I’m trying to save you.”
I don’t answer.
Neither does anyone else.
Eraya bows her head dramatically, and then strides away with her head high, the picture of the light leaving with her.
It’s only once she’s gone that people speak again.
“Now is it your turn to pitch us?” Romasa asks from the side.
Not behind me.
“Nope. I was just here to make sure she didn’t unduly influence you with magic. You make up your own minds.”
“And if it’s not what you want?” Romasa challenges.
Because she feels safe to speak now that the real threat is gone, which is supremely ironic, given who I am.
Or perhaps because she is on the side of the status quo, and she only feels the need to speak out when she feels it’s in danger.
Either way, my answer is the same.
I tell her and everyone quietly, “Then I’ll keep sharing my ice cream with whoever wants to eat it.”
“And if none of us will risk it?” Romasa asks sharply.
Then her expression freezes as she apparently realizes what that sounds like out loud.
That it is the Order that is the biggest risk.
And that they are a risk to eating ice cream is pretty damning.
“Then I’ll still keep making it,” I say lightly, “and we’ll see if I can find a limit to how much ice cream one person can hold.”
Romasa glances at Nomi. “You have been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time, Nomi.”
“What did I need to say when that viper was doing all the work for me?” Nomi drawls. “Just because she’s beautiful doesn’t mean she’s less of a snake. If you all can’t see the truth of what she’s selling you, then you’re as much sheep as she thinks you are.”
Ha, I definitely underestimated her. She could have done a lot simply standing next to Eraya and making sarcastic faces in reaction to whatever the sage said.
But Nomi also could have simply stood there as safety for her people, proving that she would show up for them even against her own interests and safety; a subtlety Eraya missed.
Or one she thought wouldn’t matter, given how much work she could do against an individual audience.
But I think she didn’t take into account how much it would matter to people that Nomi actually knows them, when the sage doesn’t.
“Not a conversation for you anymore, Yora,” Nomi tells me with a nod.
“Of course.” I bow and turn around.
Teren doesn’t come with me, which makes me worry a bit. He was quiet that whole time, too, but visible. Eraya might not have known that Crystal Hollow is now aware that he’s a sage, but they do, and I’m not sure what conclusions they will have drawn.
I’m not sure whether as a sage he will still get to have a voice in the discussions, even if they’re most relevant to him.
But Teren was right before; the point of making himself visible as a sage is to be visible, and I have to let him do that.
Before I started training him, I told him that I believed he could handle himself, and now I have to actually allow him to.
Out of sight again, I’m about to extend my senses to see if I can locate Zan when he appears next to me.
Unharmed.
I let out a big breath.
And an instant later, we’ve both crossed the space between us and are enclosed in each other’s arms.
Safe. We made it.
And maybe for once we’re not going to talk about the fact that we’re both shuddering with relief at being back together again.
Are these mating instincts, or is this just love?
“What was Learned Mujin up to?” I ask, muffled against his chest.
“Directing priests to blow out what spells people do have in their infrastructure here.”
I jerk in his arms. “What?! We should tell—” I break off my own words and thump back against his chest. “They won’t believe us.”
“Yes. But if we don’t say anything, they will guess.”
I wonder, “Which way will that make them lean, though?”
I wonder.