Red Leaves and the Living Token (11 page)

The room erupted into a cacophony of angry voices.

Valance tried to continue, yelling over them. “Please! Please!”

The senators continued, with hundreds of voices shouting over the top of each other. Valance reached up to the Lord Speaker’s bench grabbed a gavel and banged it repeatedly. The unorthodox behavior worked. The room quieted.

Valance regaining their attention, continued, “This is the way it must be done!”

The Lord Speaker interrupted, “It is not the House Lord Valance privilege to dictate what this Senate will or will not do!”

The room broke out in angered shouts.

Valance rushed up to the half wall separating him from the first row of senators, jumped over the wall and climbed up onto the closest desk. With his hands raised, he yelled as loud as he could, “Quiet! Please!”

The room again subdued into a gentle roar.

Valance continued. “We have two options. We can allow market forces to dictate who can who cannot buy Manea. As you know, with anything in limited supply the only ones who will have access to it are those with sufficient means. If only those with sufficient means have it and all others are left on their own, who will tend the animals? Who run the street cars? Who will keep food coming into the city and water flowing out of our pipes? Without Manea, the entire working class will be lost. Now you tell me, is that a working strategy? Should we allow those with money to hoard and waste while the rest of the population descends into madness? Those with money would not survive such a scenario any more than the rest of us.

“The second option is to appoint a committee to manage the distribution of Manae, thus allowing us to maintain operation of vital services. Not all houses and clan carry the same weight in terms of our survival. Some hold strategic positions which can't be compromised. Others must step back to let the others survive. However unpleasant or unpopular, the facts cannot be changed. We must set our emotions aside and let our reason dictate. It'll be horribly unfair. It'll be the most awful thing we've ever had to do. But in the end we will pass through this, and we will survive.

“Or, if we do nothing we will all die.”

The room dropped into silence. “We simply no longer have enough for everyone.” Valance said quietly.

He scanned their faces for their reaction. One outburst triggered an explosion of yelling and screaming.

“This is your solution?” Someone shouted from the first row.

“Kill half the population to save the other half?” Another yelled nearby.

“…Unacceptable! You're insane! Dangerous!” Came shouts from the back.

The Lord Speaker stood and pounded his gavel. After a moment, the roar calmed enough for him to speak.

“And who, Lord Valance, would you propose head this committee? You? Is that what this about?” The Lord Speaker asked.

Valance turned and answered, “I offer my experience with the production and distribution of Manae as well as with managing consumption rates. I have a plan where in I can reduce the overall national consumption to fit within the limits of supply until we’re able to provide an alternative. If that is of use to the Senate, I will serve.”

Again, the room erupted in an explosion of shouts from the body of senators. The Lord Speaker stood up and pounded his gavel. This time to no effect. The senators refused to quiet themselves.

Lord Valance turned back to the general assembly, surveying the angry mob shouting at him from behind their desks. Each trying to be heard over the angry cries of the others. He shook his head in frustration. He was afraid the time had come. He knew what he had to do, yet, his hand stayed motionless at his side. Something deep still nagged at him not to do this. But what other choice did he have? They wouldn’t listen to logical argument. And even then, he could see they agreed to the need for action and the problem with inaction. Yet they mocked and scorned his solution. Simply because they disliked the one presenting it? He simply couldn’t allow this.

He moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. With the touch of his open palm on the engraved metal, a cool mist shot out from him, hitting the ground then swelling up and out over the crowd. As the mist expanded, he could feel the minds of the senators. He could feel their intense anger, their bitterness, their fear. He could see their distrust of him.

He focused on that fear and pushed. If he could suppress it long enough for a vote. Perhaps they could move forward. He pushed harder, with the absolute concentration that his years of experience with these tools had given him.

But their minds did not react. The mist that he had pushed out over them started to lose cohesion. And then it was gone.

His mind snapped back to the confines of his own thoughts, his own body. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword. How was this possible? He hadn’t broken connection with the sword. Yet… He lifted his palm. The insignia, etched into the skin of his palm that had once glowed brightly any time he’d used the weapon, was now dark.

His tool of last resort had failed.

He dropped down off the of the desk, turned his back to the senators and walked towards the exit door of the chamber.

“Where are you going?” The Lord Speaker demanded. “The general body has not excused you? Do you hear me?”

-

Valance’s mind reeled in confusion as he tried to process what had just happened. He tried to assess where he stood and what his next action should be. But nothing seemed to be clear. His worst fear had just been realized. The weapons were now completely useless. Of course, he’d been aware of the decline in their effectiveness over the years. He started phasing out their use years ago for that reason, hoping to save them for when they were absolutely necessary. It’d been over a decade now since he’d last had to use them. And so he imagined it’d be years to come before their potency was entirely lost. And by that time, he imagined they’d have found the Token. Today, they should have been effective.

Could they really have diminished sitting in his dark storage as much as they might have strapped to his waist? It seemed impossible. Yet what other explanation was there? The power was gone. He and his companions were now left naked, without advantage whatsoever.

The Token must be found. Immediately. He thought.

Barnus and Whiting were waiting in the thick crowd that clogged the hallway outside the Senate chamber. Valance grabbed and pulled them down an empty branching hallway.

“What have you found on the Token?”

Barnus, caught off guard by the sudden intensity, stammered out an answer, “Nothing yet.”

“What do you mean nothing?” Valance looked dangerous.

Whiting jumped in. “We haven’t been able to confirm the sighting. We have two targets identified and confirmed. Whom we’ve been watching for several days. Neither has exhibited any unusual activity yet.”

“We can’t watch and wait this time. Take me to the first target.” Valance demanded.

“Of course,” answered Whiting.

Barnus put a hand on Whitings shoulder to stop him, “If we spook them and they do have it, they’ll just bury it somewhere.”

“You don’t think I’ve thought about that…” Valance snapped.

“House Lord Valence, If I might have a word.” A large Zo stepped up behind them, wearing the impressive decor of a high ranking military officer.

Valance turned and stared at the man without reply. He recognized the face immediately. It was, Manthis, one of the prominent active Generals. After what had happened in the Senate, he had a decent idea what this man wanted. Most likely a personal threat of some sort at the request of one of the senators. Now that he lost favor with the majority he and his view of things were a liability. They should’ve left the building and had their conversation about the token elsewhere.

“What can I do for you General Manthis?”

“There was one thing that was not addressed in the chamber, which I was hoping I might now ask you. Have you thought about the foreign policy implications of this supply crunch?”

“Of course. We’ve taken foreign pressure into account in our usage reduction calculations. We’ve made estimates on what supplies might look like in the next ten to fifteen years based on what we think the other nations will be using.”

“And how have you come to your conclusions on what share of the total Maneae the other nations will be using?”

“We assumed they would be taking their own reduction measures.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“Well, we’d have some foreign policy problems.”

“Let me ask you this Lord Valance, what would happen to this supply/demand issue if we stopped exporting Maneae.”

“We don’t really export anything. Most of the orchards we operate are already across the boarders. If we stopped selling Manea from those orchards to the Bota, they’d just nationalize them.”

“Now hypothetically, what if they weren’t able to nationalize them. What if we were able to hold on to all your current orchards and use the production entirely for our own people. How would that change the picture, domestically?”

“That’s a big if. Our orchards are spread out all over Botan territory, and a few are across the Petra border. We’d be talking about all out war.”

“The question is hypothetical of course.” Added the General.

“We run two thirds of the world’s orchards. If we maintained all of that production for our own use, there’d be no domestic supply problem. Not for the next twenty years at least.”

“Thank you for your time. Would you be willing talk this over in greater detail with some of my colleagues?

“Of course”

He had no intention of doing so. This man was clearly delusional, and any further talks with him would be looked on with great disfavor by his foreign friends. Foreign friends who currently granted him the right to grow his product on their land. How could he know more about foreign military strength than a Zo general?

One thing was certain, in any war scenario, he’d be the first to lose. He and his orchards would quickly become the target of all three nations. Probably, the least desirable position of any man to be in.

If he could’ve talked the Senate into a plan of demand reduction he stood a reasonable chance of getting the Botann and Petra to follow suit. No war, and his orchards would’ve stayed under his control. He could have potentially controlled the Maneae consumption in all three nations. With that he’d have power over infrastructure and all vital systems of all three. He could’ve found ways to integrate them and reduce a great deal of redundancy and waste. A coordinated and collaborative effort ultimately resulting in a united three. The advantages of such a union were staggering. The resources of Petra made freely available to the innovations of the Zo all fueled by the extraordinary land cultivation of the Botann. All the current walls of progress would effectively be torn down.

None of that seemed likely to happen now.

At least, not without help.

-

Valance’s black carriage arrived outside an old stone Botann Church. The home of his old friend Bedic. He knew the search for the Token would come back to him eventually. He was actually a bit surprised that Bedic ended up being the first target. They’d been watching him for almost his entire life. And yet, after all this time, he’d never led them anywhere useful. He’d almost given up, figuring, if Bedic was going to find something he would have found it by now.

That brought him back to the second target. It must have something to do with this Raj Handers gentleman. What he needed to find out was what Handers and Bedic had to do with one another. Why did they meet recently, and what was the nature of the visit? His guess was that Handers found something and brought it back to Bedic for some sort of consultation. But how he’d know to bring it to Bedic was a mystery.

-

Bedic sat at his desk, his mind deep inside the pages of a large book opened in front of him. Sinesh, sitting on her knees, shifted a puzzle piece back and forth trying to fit it into a half assembled puzzle spread out across the stone floor.

An unexpected knock on the door snapped Bedic’s attention away from the book. He and Sinesh both looked over at the door.

A young Cleric poked his head in, “Master cleric, you have some visitors. They're rather...” He looked over at Bedic's granddaughter with raised brow. “Insistent.”

Bedic closed his book. “Hun, I think its time for Bed.” He waved the young Cleric into the room. “Would you take her back to my quarters?”

“I'm not done, Grandpa.” Sinesh protested.

The young Cleric knelt down by the girl. “Come on sweetie.” He gestured towards the door as he tried ushering her out of the room.

“I’m not done, its gonna get all messed up!” She repeated her protest.

“I’ll make sure no one touches it. Good night dear.” Bedic said with a smile.

She made a frustrated grunt then followed the young cleric out of the room. He waited for her then closed the door behind them. A moment later the door opened again. Three large, well dressed, Zoen men entered. They looked like the type that came to discuss potential investments to add to the churches portfolio. Only, Bedic knew that wasn’t why they’d come.

The man in the middle stepped forward.“Good Evening Master Cleric Bedic. I hope we aren’t catching you at an inconvenient moment. We were looking for someone and hoped you might be of assistance.”

Bedic didn’t get up to greet them.

“I am the House Lord Valance and these are my associates Lord Barnus and Lord Whiting. I won’t…”

“I know who you are.” Bedic interrupted.

Bedic’s mind flooded with memories. Flashes of a struggle. Book shelves knocked to the ground. Swords drawn. Blood. His father! A dark pressure swelled inside him. It felt as though his skin was stretching, boiling from the inside. His brow began to bead with drops of sweat. The old man’s body twitched uncontrollably as tried to regain control. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to see the three men in front of him die.

“It would appear that you do.” answered Valance.

Bedic’s frail body began to tremble more violently. He tried to control his thoughts, thoughts where his hands wrapped around Valance’s thick neck, or where he took the dagger from the top drawer in his desk and ran it through Valance’s heart. The images came, and he could do nothing to stop them.