Brave Story (58 page)

“Worse, should a non-ankha commit a crime against an ankha, or even injure them or damage property by mistake, they are arrested without question. Sometimes they’re killed on the spot without a trial, or brought back to the branch cells where they are tortured to death.” Toni clenched his fists. “And things have gotten worse lately. When something happens to an ankha, there’s no investigation, they just assume it was a non-ankha who did it. They pick a likely suspect from the houses near the victim, say poverty was the motive, and take them into detention. We all know what happens next.”

It sounded like South Africa during apartheid. “Are there other kinds of discrimination in daily life here? Like separate facilities for different races?” Wataru asked.

Toni’s eyes opened wide. “There sure is. How did you know?”

“I know of a similar situation in another place,” Wataru replied.
I saw it in a movie once.

Toni folded his arms across his chest. He walked over to the workshop window and looked outside. “The main avenue around here is Bricklayer Street. That’s where the workers who first built Lyris lived. They used to bake bricks in their houses. The noise and dust was fierce, and it was always hot from the furnaces. That’s why, when the pace of construction in town slowed, the old bricklayers all left, and this became a place for the poor to live.” Toni turned back around to Wataru. “Didn’t you notice outside? The people you see in the windows here are all non-ankha.”

Now that he mentioned it, Wataru realized it was true.

“I’m the only ankha living on this road, in fact,” Toni spat. “The nonankha make up less than a quarter of Lyris’s total population. There were more in the past, but they got angry at their unfair treatment here, and left. Of course, that was only the young, or those with a place to go, or artisans with talent. There are many more that couldn’t leave. Those who have stayed behind have assembled here along Bricklayer Street in the narrow slums—packed in like livestock. Go for a walk on the other roads and you’ll notice the difference right away. There are great mansions and roomy stores, all owned by ankha. Every morning the non-ankha leave their cramped, inconvenient, dusty shacks for their dreary jobs. Of course, nobody can get any decent work around here. There are no permanent positions for anyone but ankha in Lyris. So of course the non-ankha are all poor.”

“It’s a vicious cycle,” Elza said, bitterly.

“Does this prejudice against non-ankha have anything to do with faith in the Old God?” Wataru asked. Elza and Toni looked at each other.

“What do you know about the Old God?” They all looked at him.

“Um…Kee Keema told me about him.”

All eyes turned to the waterkin who quickly repeated the explanation he had given Wataru.

“So there’s some even in Gasara then.”

“Yes, but nothing is all that clear in Gasara. Everyone is wary of the Old God believers. We don’t trust anything that has something to do with the Northern Empire.”

Elza nodded. “Sometimes I fear that we’ve become like the Empire, detaining non-ankha just because of their race, and even killing them. Of course, it’s on a smaller scale, but the things that are happening are the same…”

“I can’t discount the influence of this belief in the Old God, but Lyris has never provided a warm welcome for non-ankha. I can’t figure out what the cause might have been. The first settlers came here one hundred and fifty years ago, and just like settlers elsewhere, they were of mixed races,” Toni told them. “Things only changed when the mines were discovered in the mountains around the city. To reach the mines, you have to dig deep into the ground. The beastkin, with their strong bodies and constitutions, were perfect for the job. At the same time, the nimble-fingered ankha were the best at crafting the stones they unearthed. That’s how the division of labor came about.”

“And Lyris became a crafting town,” Meena said. “What happened to the mines? Are there non-ankha—beastkin—working there still?”

Toni shook his head. “The veins were depleted about eighty years after their discovery, and the mines closed. They weren’t that large to begin with, really. Now and again somebody will find a fragment of precious metal, or gem, but nothing in salable amounts. Most of the jewels that are fashioned in Lyris now are imported from Arikita.”

Of Lyris’s past, only the ankha rule remained.

“So these jewels from Arikita…the shipping guild brings them in?” Kee Keema asked.

“That’s right. Of course, the guild is just as prejudiced as the rest of town. They would never let a waterkin darbaba driver set foot in our borders.”

“It’s not just us waterkin you know, there are some ankha drivers as well…” Kee Keema said, then snorted. “I see how it is, anyway. I always thought the guild monopoly on shipping to Lyris was a little odd.”

“Not many people from the outside know what it’s like here in Lyris,” Elza said, sadly hanging her head. Her long black hair flowed down one shoulder. “Only ankha are interested in learning our craft. And, frankly, there’s really no other reason to come here. Very few people come and go.”

“But, what I don’t get is,” Kee Keema said, “if Branch Chief Pam is so prejudiced, why didn’t he frown when he saw me and Meena walk in?”

Meena’s tail twitched side to side, echoing Kee Keema’s question.

“That’s because you’re Highlanders from outside. If he was too open about it, the Gasara branch might get angry.”

It did sound like the sort of thing that would get Kutz’s whip cracking.

“Well, I don’t know if such a deep-rooted thing can be fixed, but surely it’s a problem if we have Highlanders supporting this kind of activity. Has anyone thought of speaking to the high chief of the Bog branches?”

Toni turned to Wataru, fixing him with the same cold stare he had when they first met. “You think we didn’t try?”

“We did. Many times,” Elza continued. “But High Chief Suluka said he didn’t want to get involved. I think he wants to pretend it isn’t happening.”

“No—he is as prejudiced as the rest of them,” Toni spat. “When the United Government formed the Knights of Stengel, there was a big debate about whether to make them mixed like the Highlanders, or to separate companies by race. In the end, they voted on it, and during the referendum, the only Highlander chief who showed support for separating races was Suluka.”

“And the Knights of Stengel are all ankha too, aren’t they,” Wataru said, half to himself. “I don’t see what the point is, separating companies by race.”

“Oh, they think up all manner of reasons. Different-size gear making equipment difficult to manage, or the value of grouping people with similar customs together.” It was clear from how he spoke that Toni’s rage hadn’t cooled down in the slightest. “Whatever the reason, once you separate people by race, you end up giving them different duties. In fact, when the Knights of Stengel were first formed, some non-ankha rode with them. Now they wander without armor or helms, helping repair towns hit by disaster, or building roads through the mountains. When people say the Knights of Stengel, they only think about the ankha riding in their silvery armor. All the
other
Knights are forgotten.”

“Well, I’ll say one thing,” Kee Keema snorted. “I don’t feel like lingering here longer than we have to. You know what I mean, Meena?”

Meena sat deep in thought, her tail twitching.

“Haven’t you ever thought to leave town, Mr. Fanlon?” Wataru asked. Toni and Elza looked at each other again.

“How could he leave Elza behind?” Meena answered for them.

“But, well, they could always elope?” Wataru suggested.

Elza looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I would go with Toni. But I cannot leave my father. I want to help them, if I can. To change him—he wasn’t like this when he was younger, I’m sure of it.”

“What changed him?”

“I think it was something that happened seven or eight years ago. My mother died of illness…” said Elza. “That’s when he became passionately involved with the church—I think because he was lonely. You know, the cathedral with the great bell tower.”

“But isn’t that a church to the Goddess?”

“It is, but—well, it’s a long story. Nothing is quite that simple in Lyris. There are some who say the cathedral was built to worship the spirits that created the beautiful jewels and gemstones we use in our craft.”

It occurred to Wataru that there hadn’t been a cathedral of any kind in Gasara, save Cactus Vira’s cursed ruins.

“The teachings of the Goddess are very simple,” Elza said, sitting upright, her voice like a song. “You who fill the land with your life, be compassionate, help one another, flourish, and gather to the light.”

“What, that’s it?”

“That’s it. Those are the basics, anyway. There are a few precepts that go with the teachings, though. Like you’re not supposed to create an image of the Goddess, nor build grand places of worship to her. Those two things are strictly forbidden. That’s why, no matter which town you go to, you’ll find many books written about the Goddess’s teachings, and you’ll hear people singing songs to her praise in the town squares, and you may even see a procession of the faithful. There are gathering places for these times, of course, but no chapels, no cathedrals. Only in Lyris.”

That made it sound like the cathedral with the great bell tower wasn’t built in honor of the Goddess but in defiance of her. It struck Wataru as extremely odd.

“I think my father began going to the cathedral, and he met someone there who put those ideas into his head.”

Wataru knew where he had to go next.

Chapter 17
The Town and the Cathedral

They returned to the branch to find Pam waiting for them.
It was time for the regular patrol.

“So, did you meet Mr. Fanlon? He’s an odd bird, isn’t he?”

It was difficult to take his question at face value after all they had heard. Wataru’s confusion showed on his face.

“What, you didn’t meet him?” the chief asked with searching eyes. “My Elza didn’t…go with you, did she?”

“She showed us the way,” Meena said crisply, speaking in place of the fidgeting Wataru. “She is as kind as she is beautiful. You should be quite proud.

“But,” she added, “she didn’t visit the workshop with us. As it turned out he wasn’t even there, so the trip was wasted.”

“I see, I see,” the chief said, his gaze softening. “Perhaps you can drop by there again on your patrol. You should have enough time.”

The chief opened a map on top of his desk, and began explaining the division of patrol routes, and which route he thought best for Wataru and the others to walk. The route didn’t take them along Bricklayer Street. Nor close to the cathedral.

“Thanks, Chief. Understood,” Wataru said. “Though I was hoping to visit the cathedral at some point. That’s quite an impressive belltower. I’ve not seen its like in any other town. Would it be possible to see inside sometime?”

The chief smiled. “Maybe not on patrol. Why don’t you visit tomorrow?”

Wataru pushed again, but the chief wasn’t to be budged.

“Only believers are allowed inside the cathedral, really.”

“But isn’t this a cathedral to the Goddess? If so, we’d all qualify as believers, then.”

“Well,” the chief responded slowly, “the cathedral in Lyris is a bit different. I’m sure you learned in school that it’s forbidden to erect places of worship to the Goddess.”

“So then who…”

“That cathedral was erected to Cistina, Spirit of Beauty. Cistina appears before only the most skilled of craftsmen, taking the form of a beautiful young ankha boy or girl.”

“So is this Cistina more important than the Goddess in Lyris?”

“More important than the Goddess? Of course not. But I’m sure you understand the need for craftspeople to give thanks to the source of the technique and talent necessary to create beauty. That’s why we built the cathedral.”

Having no more time for chitchat, the chief led the three out on patrol. They first walked to the center of town, and around the branch and town offices. Then they went down one of the main boulevards leading directly away from Bricklayer Street. The buildings here were made of stacked white stone. Clean laundry hung in the windows, and they could hear the sounds of children playing. In the spaces between the buildings, or in the little squares here and there, were planted trees and flowers, woven in between the cobblestone streets. It was a beautiful town.

“The buildings around here are all communal households,” Pam said, looking around with a smile. “Young families who work in Lyris and elderly couples who have already raised their children can live here cheaply. Clean and pleasant, don’t you think? Lyris is rich on account of her crafts, so we can afford to spend money on keeping our town nice.”

It wasn’t a lie. This part of town was very nice. Wataru could even imagine himself living here and enjoying it. But the residents here were all ankha. When he thought of that, and remembered the cramped, unsanitary conditions of Bricklayer Street, he could barely restrain himself from bursting out. It was even worse when he noticed that the young couples walking down the street and children playing in the squares would flinch when they saw Kee Keema and Meena walk by. Some would point, and even hide behind their friends. Each raised eyebrow and whispered comment drove a spike through Wataru’s heart.