Pyrebound - 11.2
Author: theredsheep

Chapter 11.2 – Pyrebound

There was little more to “Dul Shimrun” than Ram had already seen, though Gelibara assured them it grew larger every day. There was no better place for a conference than the flat top of the mountain, once Shennai and the girls had lifted off.

“How many people do you have here in all?” was Ram’s first question when they sat down. There were only four of them present; Pimna the handmaiden had remained with the Ensi’s simpleminded “brothers,” and Busu was with the floor-clearing crew.

“Seventeen,” Gelibara answered. “The Ensi, the boys, myself, the handmaidens, Busugarta, and eight bondservants liberated from Jatu. They work in shifts to clean the room; Shunnar will have picked up the rest from the foot of the hill, to help her fetch dinner.”

“And when you say ‘liberated,’” Darun asked with a sly look, “you mean … “

“Free,” Shimrun said. “There is no forced labor here. We offered them freedom, a chance to build a new kind of pyre. Eight accepted.”

“So, if they wanted to leave, would you let them?”

“Yes. And transport them back, if they wanted.”

“What do you mean by ‘a new kind of pyre,’ though?” Ram said.

“In three blooms, I will burn, and renew the flame. That doesn’t have to happen on top of the Dul Karagi temple, or any temple. We have a flat, elevated site here. That is all we need. No more temples. No more holes full of lies. When you are ensi, they will know your name, your face. You will walk among them. Your lugal will serve at your pleasure, and any man who has been done wrong can appeal to you in person.”

“Then what’s going to happen to Dul Karagi? And everyone who lives there? Are you going to build houses for all of them here in three blooms, and farms to support them?”

Shimrun laughed. “Rammash. That’s not the point. I don’t have a quarrel with, with the dirt on the riverbank. I’m moving because I don’t want all those people. I won’t turn away good workers. I will accept any honest man, or woman, who … comes and asks. The rest can die, for all I care. Let them ask the lugal for protection from the white sun.”

“But … how are you going to support anyone at all? This is a rock in the desert.”

“So was every pyre, once,” Gelibara noted. “We’ve only a few handmaidens now, to put up a fire on white days, but already there’s catsmoss growing on the rocks. This could easily become the center of a third Jatu pyre, creating green land all the way to the Teshalun.”

Ram glanced at Darun; even she looked skeptical. “In three blooms, with handmaidens putting up little fires? That just won’t work. Nine out of ten Karagenes are going to be hearthless.”

“That’s the plan,” Shimrun said. “I have two goals. One is to be free, to create a pyre where the ensis rule. The second is to punish the wicked. This accomplishes both.”

Ram struggled to find words. “Thousands will die! You want that?”

“A good deal can happen in three blooms, Rammash my lamb,” Gelibara protested. “The annual campaign against the bazuu will begin in a few tetrads; Jushur will not dare participate for fear of sabotage, but he will have no excuse—certainly not for the public’s ears. Eight months later comes the bloom. Our Ensi can make it fail. The spirits will emanate, but refuse to indwell, and die in the air. Jushur will be humiliated, the Karagenes frightened. What will he tell them?”

Darun laughed, and clapped her hands. “That would explain why he was in such a hurry to get Shimrun,” Ram said.

Shimrun smiled. “Yes. This wasn’t … our first choice. We wanted peaceful reform. When you were caught, this was the best option left. Better this, than open war.”

“After three blooms of ominous and inexplicable failures, the Lugal will simply have no credibility left,” Gelibara added. “All of the Karagenes who can flee the pyre in the meantime, will, and other pyres will be happy to take the more skilled workers. We might lend a hand to rescue those who are left, of course, and let the truth be known. We won’t be idle.”

“You really think that will work?” Ram said.

“It’s worked before,” Shimrun said. “A long time ago. More than once, I think.”

Ram still didn’t like it—it sounded too easy, too simple. Jushur wasn’t as helpless as all that. What was the phrase Zasha had used? “An extended period of uncertainty punctuated by violence.” That seemed the more likely outcome. Zasha’d said that long before Shimrun left the pyre, though—was that how it always went, if an ensi deserted?

He looked to Darun; as if reading his mind, she said, “Just say the word, and we can probably get a loan of handmaidens from Dul Misishi. Teach these girls how to carve rock the right way. Maybe get some other help, too.”

“Not just yet,” Ram said. “I’d rather not owe your brother-in-law any more than we absolutely have to.”

“Hmm?” Gelibara raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that, Ram dear?”

“Maybe later. For now, I think I deserve to hear the whole story. You’ve put me through a lot of trouble here, Ensi, and that’s putting it mildly. You’ve hurt a lot of people I care about. Before this goes any further—before I agree to doing anything at all—I want to hear why and how it all went down. Especially why you decided to drag me into this.” Darun crossed her arms, and nodded in support.

“The last part is … the quickest, and easiest, to answer.” Shimrun’s breathing was labored again. Whatever the medicine had done for him, the benefits were apparently short-lived. “You were healthy, Ram. Healthy, and whole. You were Mana’s brother, uncorrupted, a stranger to the pyre. I knew I could trust you. More than I could trust anyone else. I don’t know many men.”

“Why not stick him with it?” Ram said, waving at Gelibara.

“The pyre doesn’t care for my kind, Rammash. We’re not proper men as it thinks of them. Acolytes may indwell, but we cannot kindle the fire, and it will not obey our commands. Just one more reason the lugals trust us so.”

“Just because you’re missing your balls? That’s bizarre.”

“Why? Haranuu can indwell most anything, you know, but only a few objects will do anything useful with it. We’ve tried every object you can think of, over the kindlings. The God’s rules are firm.”

“The fire was made for … a different kind of world, Ram. A different society. I am very far from what the God intended. The lugals have … bent the rules. Crippled us. We are bending them back. Restoring the priesthood.”

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Darun asked, blunt as ever. “Ram’s little buddy can patch him together when he’s half-dead. I’ve seen it. Why can’t yours?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really tell me much.”

“The condition is not well-known,” Gelibara said, “outside of the temples where, as you might expect, we’ve ample experience with that sort of thing. The salt curse is rare, very rare, and most of those born with it don’t see their first birthday. Our master was one of the lucky ones.”

“After a fashion,” Shimrun added.

“True enough,” Gelibara said, bowing his head. “You know it by a taste of the skin—terribly salty. This isn’t a common disease, where one gets better; the body itself has grown wrong. The haranuu can heal their hosts, yes, but they simply don’t know what to do with the salt curse. How could they?”

“For a kindling and a half,” Shimrun wheezed, “I struggled. My lungs—choked with mucus. Always getting sick. Never growing right. Something is still wrong, inside me. All the sickness made my lungs … grow crooked. The spirit can’t fix that. I don’t get sick any more—I’d be dead by now, if I weren’t indwelt. But the haranu is confused.”

“It tries to make the body stronger, you see,” Gelibara explained. “But when the body is bent—it bends it further. In our lord’s case, it tends to produce more of the secretions. Especially when he’s upset.”

“Best of all,” said Shimrun, with a twisted smile, “I’m sterile. No dynasty for me.”

“I can see why that would be useful, to some people,” Ram said.

“It might have been … mercy, at the start,” Shimrun said. “I think it was. Long ago. If a boy would die anyway, why not indwell? He will live a little longer, and spare killing a healthy man. But then … things changed. They started keeping us for a different reason. A hoard of … defective little treasures.”

“Piridur told me as much. I didn’t get the feeling he was proud of it, exactly, but he thought it was the best that could be done.”

“Of course he would think that. Whoever he is.”

“Second sword of the flamekeepers, lord. And Jushur’s son.”

“Pah! No wonder. My mother was important, Ram. Pimna’s sister. My father, too. I don’t remember either. They’re both alive, but … strangers. They gave me up when I was three. The day I went to live in … the painted room. For seven blooms, Ram, I never left that room. Everything was brought to me, me and the … other boys. They were gentle. They were kind. But they let us know, every day … that we were a burden. Not good enough.

“We were all broken, sick. Some in the head, some in the body, some both. Unfit to work, to help, when the Dominion needed everything it could get to … fight the bazuu. The Lugal spent so much money, diverted so many people, to keep us alive. Maybe one day, if we tried, if we were very good … we could be useful. We could help the Dominion.

“That was all I wanted. That was all any of us wanted. To have someone tell us … we lived for a reason. That they weren’t wasting their time keeping us alive. The ones who weren’t worth it, they disappeared. The angry ones, the sad ones, the ones who gave up. They never told us what happened to them. Only that they weren’t useful. We knew anyway.”

“But they accepted you, in the end. You made it.”

“Barely. I almost died, from the curse, when I was thirteen. I wanted to, a little. I kept going, because I was so close to indwelling. I thought it would be better. But I got my haranu, the old Ensi burned, and a bloom passed, and my life wasn’t any better. I was out of the painted room, yes. I could stand outside … on the top tier of the Temple, and see all the people living out there. Doing things I’d never do. It was all so empty, so stupid. I would spend my life suffering … and waiting to burn, so it would mean something.

“I didn’t want to wait. I stopped eating and drinking, stopped getting out of bed. I didn’t know if the fire would let me starve, but I tried. Thought about throwing myself off the Temple, but that would have been brave. It was easier to just … stop. To give up after all. I think they considered doing it for me. Speeding things up.”

Gelibara nodded. “My colleague Anmatuda was, I’m ashamed to say, very skilled with wire—he disposed of more than one ensi. We argued for some time, we and the handmaidens, over what to do. We voted, and my vote decided it. He lived.”

“And then … came the light. The first good thing in my life, since my parents gave me up. My brothers and I, we were all … unhappy. We didn’t know how to want to live. But there was Mana.”

“Your sister’s condition is not unique, Rammash,” Gelibara said. “The last Ensi to burn was very similar. When your parents brought Erimana in as an infant, Partul was preparing for death. The poor boy was terrified; it was all too much for him. He wasn’t very bright, but he knew that his indwelling had saved him—we’d told him so often enough. He insisted that we accept her, and we agreed. We were afraid he’d do something rash, if we didn’t.”

“She was … how old? Three? When I gave up. Tiny and ugly and stupid, a freak like us. They knew we loved her, knew she was like Partul. They sent her to … cheer me up. That was their mistake.”

Shimrun paused his story, looking at Ram. “I’m sorry,” Ram said.  “I don’t understand. What mistake?”

“I was useless, you see? Worthless. I couldn’t do anything. Might not even be worth setting on fire. But Mana was just the same as Partul, and she wasn’t useless. You could see she was … a real handmaiden. I spent tetrads with her, just watching her toddle around making little sparks. And she, she loved me back. Nobody made her. She didn’t have to. She was too young to pretend, didn’t care if I could be useful. She saw me, worthless, crippled, stunted Shimrun … and loved me.

“She got me thinking things … I’d never thought before. Without even trying to. That was … the end of it. I stopped giving up … and started … getting angry.”

“Do you need to take a break, lord?” Gelibara said. Shimrun was breathing harder than ever. “Perhaps you should go see Miss Pimna.”

“How much more of the … liquid do we have? We might be here … a long time.”

“Why don’t we just save our strength for now, then? I know this next bit well enough. Ram, It was Shunnar—what do you call her?”

“Yes, exactly. It was Shunnar, or Shennai if you like, he spoke to first. She was indwelt, and couldn’t hurt him. If need be, he could ensure her silence—permanently, if you follow me. Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary. She’d been having her doubts for some time; he’d little difficulty winning her over the rest of the way. I was next—she’d been speaking with me, as well.”

“What did you do in the Temple? When I asked you before, you gave me some bullshit about helping with little jobs.”

“I was, you might say, a liaison. Sometimes a counselor. We didn’t exactly have official or specific jobs there, Ram dear, but mine would have been to make sure everything ran smoothly. I talked with everyone, especially if there was a little disagreement that needed patching up.”

“That makes sense.” Shennai had told him nobody was in charge at the Temple, overall, but it sounded like Gelibara came close. At least, he was one of the few who had a good picture of how everything worked. No wonder his office was so nice.

“Shunnar persuaded me that things had to change some time ago. I didn’t think there was anyone else it was safe to speak with, at just that moment, so for some time we only met in secret, the three of us. In time, our master felt confident that he could trust some of the other boys. They do know how to keep a secret! But progress was terribly slow; there were only a few of us, and we’d no notion how to fix things. We were only a very small body of people who felt that things weren’t as they should be.

“Eventually, Shunnar decided to leave the Temple; the poor lady simply couldn’t abide her duties any longer, and I can’t blame her at all for that. So we made it look as though she’d killed herself. The rest was a bit ticklish, but I managed to make it work.”

“All right, I get the picture,” Ram said. “Did anything else major happen, before I came along?”

“Not in particular, no. I wouldn’t say so. We weren’t in a position to—”

“Yes, yes. You were all helpless. So let’s get to the part where I met you, and you decided to get me involved in all this. Why? Why me specifically?”

Gelibara looked puzzled. “Why, we’ve told you already, Ram love. We had nobody else. And just as we were wondering whatever we were to do, it all seemed so hopeless, you appeared. Erimana’s brother, young and healthy! And it was clear enough that you’d not last long without help. Nor would your family.”

“You could have ‘helped’ without sentencing me to die in thirteen blooms.”

“That is not how it is done in the God’s service. I have paid for my honors, when I was too young to assent. Likewise all the handmaidens. And the boys in the painted room will pay the greatest price of all. I can’t say I agree with the way Jushur handles things, but why should Haranduluz make exceptions? We are all bound to his service.”

“Why should Haranduluz make exceptions? I wasn’t talking about him. I’m talking about you. You’re nobody’s idea of a god, so don’t go hiding behind the sunshine.”

“Gelibara did right,” Shimrun choked out. “He asked me. I asked you. Told you … you might die.”

“Might? Is there some way I can avoid that now? I’m not seeing any might here.”

“We all die in the end, Rammash. You would have died much sooner without us. Do you dispute that?”

“Say you’re drowning,” Darun interrupted. “And I need money, and it just so happens I’m standing right there with a rope. If I want every tanbir you’ve ever owned to toss you the end, it’s only fair, right? That money’s worth less to you than your life, after all, and maybe I need all that cash. Makes perfect sense! Stop fucking with us, fat man.”

“Your life—both of your lives—were from Haranduluz in the first place,” Gelibara replied, unruffled. “Everything we have is a gift from the God’s fires. Yes, even your business, dear. The entire human race would die without the golden sun. Sometimes he asks for something back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Shimrun. “Ram is … indwelt now. Can’t be undone. But this wasn’t … a whim. We tested you … most of a bloom. Had to have someone. Had to … restore the priesthood. I waited. I prayed. I hoped. I won’t … argue with you now. The decision is made. I will die … in three blooms. The future is … yours. Not a sick child … but a healthy man. Do … what you like. I will be gone.”

“I’m afraid you’ll be gone sooner rather than later, lord, if we don’t see Miss Pimna. Ram, if you’ll excuse us?”

Ram stood aside as Gelibara hoisted his master up and helped him back down the stairs. He was tempted to shove them both over the edge. Once they were gone, he turned to Darun. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve been screwed—but who hasn’t? We can work with this.”

Ram smiled. “We can, huh?”

“Yeah. They obviously don’t know what the hell they’re doing. That’s okay. I don’t think the other guys do either—Piridur and his gang. Everybody’s just fumbling around. If we play it right, we could raise some serious hell here, as long as we keep moving. That’s something you’ve got to learn, Ram—move fast. It almost doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re too quick for them to catch you at it. But first things first. Let’s gather a bit more intel. Then comes the fun.”