For Cherra Adha
Part II

I spent an agonizing week. I could not write, for I was too tired. I could not read, for I could not think. I was useless and dazed. I wandered around, thinking about Cherra Sola’s words to me and Adha Tsavha’s possible thoughts. I felt dreadfully un-intellectual. In the background, I heard the news that Lito Anasino had fled the city. I got caught in a thunderstorm that flooded the boating channels and the lightning actually destroyed some of the weaker turrets on the buildings. People said the two events were connected. What did I know of this? It could rain blood and hail crystals but I would not have thought much of it. 

It was sheer monotonous inactivity that played with my mind for those weeks. In those states, when one is lying on one’s bed, staring at nothing, one can easily change one’s mind every second. One moment, I would be looking at Adha Tsava’s face on the cliffside, and her admiration for the revolution. But she wasn’t going to join them, or she hadn’t yet. Maybe she was wiser for it. Perhaps I had joined too quickly. What could Cherra Sola mean by her words? What if I fell into something dangerous and lost all the future dreams I had been grasping for. Would Cherra Adha love me then? 

Perhaps this is what I needed for her to love me. I needed to make the jump into something real, something strong, something risky. If a man does nothing, how is he a man? I could become so great, or make other things great. I could become one of them, get on the inside. I could be the one to ask Cherra Adha to join and we could fight for goodness together. All these great plans going on under the surface…I would be there when they were revealed. This is what all the tension in the country is from…this is what it’s all been leading to!

But Cherra Sola’s words, ”Don’t do it….don’t do it” always rang in the background of my mind like bells in the distant city. 

I felt sick, but I decided to follow Cherra Sola’s words, because for some reason, I trusted her sincerity over Atteo’s enthusiasm. I had to tell Atteo I would not come with him. It was all off. He would probably discontinue knowing me. I would probably be turned out of my house, since I was renting from him. But I like to think that I am willing to make the jump, regardless of the risks. 

Cherra Adha would never love a half-hearted revolutionist. I wasn’t ready.

I visited Atteo privately a few days before the planned meeting with the ‘recruiter’. I had a headache. 

“Reladol, my good man, you are here! Come in, come in,” Atteo opened the door. 

We were seated in his office. I hadn’t said anything beyond a few polite words. He was going on about his “work” and hinting at great plans he was in on. I sat there, quietly, my cloak rather soaked from the rain. I decided to break it to him. 

“Atteo, about the meeting—”

“Yes? Did you forget the date? It’s in four days, my good fellow. The ocean château, remember? Are you excited? Anxious?”

“I’m not going to come.” I said. 

Atteo’s face paled slightly and he broke into nervous laughter, “What? What? Not coming? I thought we had…oh, the date doesn’t work? Oh, I see, well I can get a new date if you must..but only at an extreme mind you. Haha, I would have thought you’d take these matters more seriously than any other duties you have, really. But I can see…yes. Oh my good man, would you please reconsider?”

“No, it’s not the date. I…don’t want to join. At least not now.”

Atteo’s eyes showed horror, more horror than I expected from this. His cheeks thinned before my eyes. His hands fidgeted terribly,

“You can’t really mean this, can you? Not join? What do you mean not now? Are you insane? There is no other time! Do you know what I’ve done for you to make this possible? How could you take this so lightly? Surely, you're joking!”

“I’m not,” I stood up, “I’m not joining the revolution or coming to your meeting. I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry, but I feel it is the right thing.”

He jumped up from his seat, angry now, “How dare you? Who dissuaded you from this? Who changed your mind? Who? Who?” He rushed up to me and set himself between me and the door, his eyes flashing. 

“It doesn’t matter, Atteo. Why does it matter so much to you? You look like you’d murder me.”

He relaxed slightly, and approached me, “Please, Reladol, you’re making a terrible, a terrible mistake. This is the chance of a lifetime. You’ll probably never have it again. What lies have people been telling you? What made you change your mind? Surely…surely not…cowardice?” He was so close to me now. I was backed up against one of his bookshelves. 

“No I just…I just want to know more first. I’m not ready…or at least, not yet. Well, I suppose I am ready for anything. But the leaders, the revolution, I really don’t know much about it…” My mind was changing as I spoke. I was halfway to deciding to go back and join them. 

Atteo, however, did not see this. 

“Listen Reladol,” he grabbed me by the collar of my cloak and whispered hideously close to my face. He was frightened out of his wits, “Listen. I command you to come with me to the meeting place. Afterwards, do what you like. But I must have you there. I swear you will be there. I’ll force you if I need to. You don’t realise what you’re doing. For God’s sake, please just say you’ll come! My greatest friend, my most trusted colleague. I believed in you. I do still! Change your wretched mind from this stupid idea of yours! I had your promise!”

He was practically choking me. I writhed and gave one final wrench away from his hands and sprawled against his desk.

“Guards!” He shouted down the hall and violently rang a bell I had not seen next to the bookshelf. He jumped at me and I scrambled away, half not believing what was happening. This was far worse than I ever imagined. Papers flew everywhere. I spilled ink on my hands and clothes trying madly to get to the other side of the desk. There was a window at the far end of the library. My inwards seized up as I thought of that. He was on top of me, 

“Reladol, come to your senses! I need you!”

I pushed him away with my feet and staggered to the window. I gave it a wild push. Luckily it was open and it swung upward. The city opened before me, miles and miles and miles of white stone buildings and rushing water and people shouting. I saw a glimpse of an aqueduct of some sort far down below. It was a stupid idea. Did I want to die? 

The guards had made it into the room by the time I was swinging on the outside, hanging to the architecture. What was I doing? I was panicking, that’s what. I heard water closer to me. Yes, the aqueduct was there. If I let go I would be in it. Was it deep enough? How foolish it would be if I killed myself right at this moment. I would laugh at myself in my grave. 

Atteo’s face stuck out of the window. I saw a guard behind him, already climbing out onto the balustrade as I was. I had no chances. I fell. 

It was the most terrible feeling to fall into rushing water and bruise every part of oneself on the sides of a stone channel. My feet barely touched the bottom but it was enough to sprain one of them. It didn’t get better seeing as I couldn’t breathe and I was being tossed from side to side and traveling faster than I had in my entire life. I choked on water. I desperately covered my head with my hands, trying not to get a concussion. The worst was when I heard other people behind me splashing around and I realised some of the guards must have jumped in after me. 

The channel was roaring. The aqueducts dove and flattened out and sped around buildings. Could I possibly live through this? Every spare bit of energy I spent in trying to breathe while being sucked under and spat out a million times. I had one frightening thought: do the aqueducts ever end? Would this go on forever? The madness went on for a long time and I eventually lost consciousness entirely. 

When I woke up, everything was hot and still. I was half submerged in one of the disgusting pools in the bad parts of town, and the other half of myself was lying on the bank. 

Some person had dragged me out, probably in order to rob a dead body. I checked and the little money I had was, indeed, gone. I pulled myself out. I was agonized. My body ached all over and I had a terrible headache whenever I moved. My throat raked like it had been burned. I felt like I had swallowed more water than was humanly possible and it didn’t take me long before I was vomiting it out. Unpleasant stuff. 

It’s not hard to physically stay alive in the slums of town, in the slave quarters. There’s cheap food and free food people throw away because it’s too cheap. There’s always water, but it’s not always clean. I lived while not living. I thought I knew where I was, so I attempted to make my way back to the centre of the city. I looked like the lowest slave in my tattered clothes and unwashed face. I had no fear of being discovered. 

Where I was going, I did not know. I could not think clearly with the headache. I slept on a bench the first night, but got kicked off by some authority. I slept under it instead. On the second day I felt a little better mentally. Physically, I did not. It was a pain to walk. 

So what was I doing now? I had no job. I had no friends. I had jumped out of that society when I had jumped out of Atteo’s window. All I had was confused questions about the revolution. The affairs of Lito Anasino and the Queene seemed far away. The only passion I felt was a burning curiosity for what Atteo was so afraid of. Failure? Demotion? Death? Murder? ‘If I had gone, I probably would have discovered it,’ I thought bitterly. I would never see Adha Tsava again. I would probably not even see her fountain when it was finished. 

Ocean château…ocean château. What irony that it was her who first described it to me, and now it was my downfall. She said she liked the aqueducts underneath more than the interior of the building. When she had said that, I had wished to go there so badly, to taste the same pleasure she had found in them. 

Why not go there? Why not? The ‘meeting’ was two days away. It would be happening in the interior of the building, not the aqueducts. My life was disposable. At least I might get some answers. Or I could die, which would be fine either way. I started my painful walk once more, this time, to the north. 

There is a lot of wind in this city. It’s not easy to stand against. It blew me one way or the other, but by the end of the day, I could see the Hall of the dinner feast once more. It felt like a strange circle to be coming back. 

The plains and cliffs around the Hall were deserted, but I still chose to climb down to the ocean château from the other direction. This was hard, painstaking labour. Even when I followed the staircases leading down, my half-healed ankle would give me sharp reminders that made me sweat with strain. I almost decided to give up more than once, but then I thought, ‘what’s the point?’ I would have been more of a fool than I already was. I tried to think of Adha Tsava, and what she would think of this. 

After long hours into the night, I reached the ocean, but alas, the château was already cut off! The meeting wouldn’t take place until tomorrow, but after all that work…I groaned in weariness. I would have to sleep behind some rock on the beach and hope the tide didn’t reach it. I had become someone lower than the slave class, I thought bitterly. I found a dry place under an overhanging rock, stumbling around in half-sleep. When I lay down there, the sounds of the waves were better than any narcotic, and I was in the land of dreams, though my body still ached. 

When I woke, the sun was high. I panicked, thinking I was late, but when I had emerged from my shelter I saw it was simply the middle of the day. I had never realised how lovely the shore line was in the day. The ocean château stood serene and peaceful as the waves lapped the sides. The sun shone on the waters. The rocks around me were warm and dry, reflecting the sunlight. The waves were gentle…for now. Oh what paradises there are on this earth! If only we could stay and enjoy them!

The aqueducts underneath…how does one get into the aqueducts? If water can get into them, surely a human can too somehow? Good heavens, would I need some kind of key? I waded into the water and eyed the white steps leading to the closed doors of the ocean château. They reflected the sun as the water lapped on them, impassive. 

In short, I found a way inside. It was rather uncomfortable, but if I climbed to one of the walls, there was a drain large enough for me to squeeze into, where the grating was old and broken. This took me many hours to discover though, and by the time I had, the tranquil un-earthly sun was nearly set and the light of Emanor was beginning to show on the horizon. 

I descended into the underworld. It was dark and water was everywhere. On the walls, trickling down the floor, moving softly in every corner. It was like being trapped in someone’s mind. Every movement echoed. Air was blowing in from somewhere and I tasted the moisture in the air. It was roomy and spotless. The aqua in the water shone almost glandescently from some dim light. I touched the walls…they were smooth. I heard the water rushing out into the ocean like a thousand people whispering. I was below sea-level, and yet somehow in the genius of the building, it was open down here.  

I looked up and saw to my surprise that bits of the ceiling were wood, as if I was directly beneath the floor of the interior of the château. The water was only an inch deep, but it was moving, flowing to some exit. It felt good on my aching feet, but I knew they would soon start to get cold. I needed to get closer to the floor above me if I wanted any chance to listen to the meeting. I realised just how slim my chances were. 

Following the water I came to a ladder that led up to a platform, underneath a trap door. I assumed this was how people usually came down here. It was at the far end of the catacombs of water, close to where I saw the current draining back into the ocean. 

I could prop myself against the wall at a certain angle and my head was right below the trapdoor. My hair actually brushed it. It was a tight space. I noticed whenever I moved, the old wood made a terrible creaking sound. This increased my fear of being discovered, but I forced myself into a state of mediocre calm to wait out the time. They ought to be here soon, but I knew it would feel like hours. 

It did feel like hours. I heard every drop of water and every minor change in the current flowing beneath my feet. My limbs already began to get stiff.

Waiting is agony. I was thirsty. My ankle throbbed slowly. My breathing felt strange in that small space. I was conscious of every tortuous second. What if they weren’t coming at all? What if they had…I felt like a fool…changed the meeting time and place?

Of course they had! They themselves would be fools not to! Atteo knew I knew the meeting place and time! He considered me his enemy now! Of course they would have changed the meeting. They would probably never come here again because of the danger! Or worse, what if it was a trap! What if they knew I would come here! Maybe they’ll flood the aqueducts with me inside…

I cursed myself for stupidity and actually began to emerge from my hiding place, shaken by my thoughts, when I heard it. Footsteps on stone…low voices…creaking doors…a key. Could it be? Could it be possible?

I froze and inhaled my breath, not daring to move. More than one person was coming, I couldn’t tell how many. Would I be able to hear them? The entrance was on the opposite side of where the trap door in the room above me. I prayed they wouldn’t go down the trap door for some reason. Oh, so many things could go wrong. 

I heard the large heavy door swing and close with a resounding and decisive blow. Some low-speaking person locked it loudly, and I heard every scrape of the key as it echoed through the woodwork. It played on my nerves like an instrument. 

I recognised one of the voices quickly as Atteo’s, though I couldn’t yet make out his words. They drew closer and my heart froze with every footstep approaching nearer to my head. I had the ghastly feeling someone would open the trap door and jump on me or they would pull me out by my hair. One never realises how unnerving eavesdropping is till one really tries it. 

Finally I could make out the words as the voices ceased whispering and grew louder. 

“Shh, you must be careful!” Atteo said hoarsely to one of the people in the room. I could hear perhaps three or four, “I’m telling you, this isn’t safe!”

“What are you inferring, Atteo? You know something perhaps?” My blood ran cold when I recognized Benti Ruzhetti, ever cynical. 

“No, no, I have reasons…” Atteo protested. 

“Isn’t safe? Why…why isn’t this the most secluded place on the coast? No? I really rather thought it was…what do you mean?” The blabbering voice of Lipam DeChavitam fell into my ears like poison. What? Why these two? Had I made a mistake? What on earth did Atteo have to do with them?

“Lipam, take this seriously, I beg you,” Atteo pleaded, “I…I have reason to believe that this spot might have been violated. Someone might know. I don’t know for sure. Just…can we wait for some other time? Rearrange this meeting? It would just be…better, safer.” 

“What’s this? You haven’t let something slip, have you? Haven’t been feeding information to the enemy?” Benti Ruzhetti said with mocking haughtiness. 

“Shut up, Benti. Of the two of us, I really doubt you would have grounds to accuse me of ‘letting something slip’.” Atteo said with more hatred that I had ever heard. 

“No…no…he has a point. What is this hidden fear you have, Atteo? What shadows seem to be haunting you so dreadfully?” At first I thought a stranger I didn’t know was speaking. It was a snakelike voice, old, almost lisping. It hit me a second later that it was actually Lipam DeChavitam who had spoken these words. He had lost the nervousness and bumbling words…he had kept the loathsomeness. 

“It’s…well…I think someone knows I’m here tonight with the business of the revolution. I’ve been trying to contact you for the last four days! I—“

“So you revealed something, fool? Well, tell us what it was…what secrets did you betray?” Lipam DeChavitam prodded. 

“No, no, it wasn’t like that—“

“Worse and worse,” Lipam sighed, “I’m afraid this sounds an awful lot like someone trying to cover their name after a slip.”

“I didn’t slip! I swear!”

“How desperate he is!” Mocked Benti Ruzhetti, “Too desperate, if you ask me. The child who cries the loudest—“

“You don’t know anything, Benti!” Atteo interjected, “I would never, ever betray the revolution! It’s what I believe in!”

“Ruzhetti, pull yourself together. Of course, Atteo, your enthusiasm is expressed,” Lipam DeChavitam’s heavy footsteps creaked as if he was pacing slowly, tapping his cane on the ground each time, “But my dear Atteo, it’s hard to trust a half-witted statement about unsafety, especially when you refuse to elaborate. You must see that’s rather tiresome. Is anyone here then?”

“No,” Atteo said, “Well, I don’t know. It can’t be. You have the only key and the door was locked. If water can’t even get in here, what can? I mean…the aqueducts…but they need the key too. All the trap doors are secure. I don’t…well, it’s just not that.”

Lipam’s voice dropped a bit deeper, as if he were close to Atteo, “Tell us, Atteo,” He said softly, “Tell us all. We’ll forgive you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Why are you worried?”

“Because I…well I…I wanted to bring a new recruit.” 

“Already a likely story,” Benti Ruzhetti chipped. 

“A traitor?” Lipam DeChavitam’s voice rose higher.

“I’m not a traitor! I mean…he wasn’t a traitor! No…you see…you see, oh please understand. I told someone to meet me here because he promised me he would join the cause. He promised me! He wanted to join! I’ve known him practically my whole life, there is no danger! I think he’s dead now. But he decided four days ago he wouldn’t join! I tried…I tried…”

“Who? Who?” Lipam DeChavitam’s voice sounded closer to his old self once more. Atteo gave a cry as if Lipam DeChavitam had grabbed him, “Who did you tell, you idiot!”

“It was Reladol! Reladol, my scribe!”

“What? That sneaky servant that follows your tail?!” Benti Ruzhetti was infuriated. 

“Infamy,” Lipam DeChavitam sneered in disgust, “He must know everything now! Oh you wretched fool, you must have told him all to be this cowering. About me, about the inner workings. How did I not see this coming? Betrayed by you! Our weakest believer! I knew it. Oh you were never fit to play your blasted part, I swear. What a despicable creature you are. Tell us what you told him, everything!”

“He doesn’t know anything! I only told him what everyone knows about the revolution! I only told him the ideas! Please!” Atteo was shaken. I pitied him. “I told him about this place too and I nearly forced him to come when he backed out. I think he’s dead now anyway, but he doesn’t know about you! He doesn’t know anyone involved! He doesn’t know of the initiative or the gathering forces—“

“Silence, you devil! Do you want your tongue to run more than it already has?” Lipam hissed. 

“You’ve done it this time, Atteo,” Benti Ruzhetti said with glee. 

“No!”

“Atteo Salacheo, listen. You say you wanted him as a recruit. Well, that’s easy to say now that he isn’t here. You realise what this looks like? I question your methods, your efficiency, your loyalty—“

“My loyalty? Oh please, Lipam, I would swear again on my knees if need be. I am as full-hearted as ever. You must see that!” Atteo affirmed, probably getting on his knees, “It’s what I live for…” 

Lipam DeChavitam seemed to be satisfied, “Well, if that’s how it is, the error is not unrectifiable.” 

“If saying it were enough though?” Benti Ruzhetti spoke up, “I’ve noticed a bit of slackness in you over the last few months, Atteo. Always last in. Quietest in the meetings. Has there been one meeting where you haven’t questioned our methods?”

“Well someone has to! It’s how the plans get better!” Atteo said, weakly. 

“As if. You are not as forward as you once were. Almost lost interest, they would say. Reluctant on some tasks.”

“What do you expect, Benti?” Atteo expostulated, “Half the ideas put forward are mine anyway! You know that as well as anyone. How dare you say—”

“He’s right. Get to your point, Benti. Your insinuation is intolerable.” Lipam DeChavitam snapped. 

“My point is,” Benti Ruzhetti said hotly, “Perhaps these faults would be pardonable in most of us revolutionaries at times, but not in one whose wife is known to be in correspondence and meetings with Lito Anasino himself!”

“What the devil, man!” Atteo exploded.

“What’s this?” Lipam asked smoothly. 

“Deny it if you will, Atteo, I have proofs.” Benti Ruzhetti said with revolting smugness. 

“I do deny it! I deny it profusely! There is no possible way these accusations could have any…any ground! Ha ha! This is the worst one yet! You think that type of nonsense is going to make me give in to you, Benti? Hahaha, really. I have regrets but this is grabbing at air. I know this is not true! Dea…in correspondence with Lito Anasino? What on earth! You must be really desperate, my friend. You think…you honestly think…ha!” Atteo had broken into hysterical laughter. It rang through the building in a strange way after all the strain. 

“Oh, but do tell me,” Benti Ruzhetti said with such soft words, clearly leaning into Atteo, “Why are you so convinced that this is not true?”

The hysterical laughter stopped. 

“Oh come, you said you knew positively. Well, how are you so sure?” Benti Ruzhetti pressed like a torturer. 

There was silence. It was painful even to me. I forced myself into as much perfect stillness as was humanly possible. The soft current thundered in my ears. Every word they had said had cut into my mind, and nothing felt logical or real. Lipam DeChavitam; the recruiter? Benti Ruzhetti; somehow part of the revolution? Dea; a loyalist to Lito Anasino? Perhaps a conspirator with him? No one had spoken yet. 

A sharp bang suddenly resounded through the building. Everyone must have jumped, including me. It was Lipam DeChavitam’s cane which he had just hit on the floor, 

“Well?” He rasped in impatience. 

“Well, I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you if you insist on torturing me so!” Atteo groaned, “Oh, I wish it were some other way. You see, she’s part of it. She’s part of the cause. She helps me in everything, with my work. She’s loyal to us as well. She knows everything. I told her it all over time, the rest she guessed. She comes up with half my ideas these days. She’s the reason I—”

Atteo suddenly cried out as a loud strike resounded through the room. Lipam DeChavitam must have struck him on the face brutally to make that much of a sound. I heard Atteo staggering. 

“Lipam, please, be more calm,” Strangely it was Benti Ruzhetti who said this, “We can handle this more peaceably. More civilized. Listen, you can’t really blame Atteo. He was being tricked and deceived. It could happen to anybody, especially from such a close source—”

“Shut your mouth you profaning demon, I won’t have you say that about my wife. As if you know anything!” Atteo managed to spit through a bloody mouth. 

“What are you talking about Benti?” A suddenly calm Lipam DeChavitam questioned. 

“I have the letters with me. The one’s between Lito Anasino and Dea Salachea. Here they are.” 

“This was your plan the whole time!” Screeched Atteo, coughing, “Forgery of some kind! Faking my disloyalty! Why, any sane person could see through it!” 

“Oh really?” Was Benti Ruzhetti’s reply. I heard him pulling out papers and someone flipping through them. Atteo moaned a bit. 

“Is this your wife’s handwriting?” Lipam DeChavitam inquired to Atteo.

“Why, why, yes, technically it is. But she couldn’t have written them. It’s some trick! Fake handwriting. Someone must have stolen one of her real letters and used it to copy.”

“No one could get hold of Lito Anasino’s letters though,” Lipam DeChavitam interposed, “I’ve only seen his handwriting once, besides his signature on documents. Let me look at this closer,”

“You believe him? You honestly believe him? Can’t you see how it’s a set up?” Atteo whined pitifully. 

“I brought the letters, Atteo,” Benti Ruzhetti remarked, “I’m backed up with evidence. I’m not making wispy claims about some danger. I know what I’m saying. Of the two of us; who has just admitted to betraying sacred information of the revolution to two people for not even good reasons? I really—”

“Shut up, Benti,” Lipam DeChavitam again silenced the room, “your bickering disgusts me. Atteo, I am taking into account that these documents may have been forged, whether by Benti,” Lipam DeChavitam glared at him, “Or some outside party, we shall see. But they also may be entirely legitimate. In fact, your confession doesn’t encourage much trust in you or your family at the moment. You will have to prove or disprove these accusations either way. That’s a command, more pressing than any others you currently have. It’s an internal affair, so some others might have to get involved in the proof. You’ll have to test her somehow, you understand? You’ll need witnesses. You will do this, of course?”

“I…I…” Atteo stammered. I tensed along with the others. 

“Yes...” He struggled out, his whole body clearly straining against the painful words. 

The moon must be out by now, I thought. Everything will be in black and white, with shadows scattered across the floor. Poor Atteo. I had forgiven him everything…but whether he would ever forgive me, I couldn’t say. My fingers and feet had long been numb and cold, and now I was wet with both sweat and water from the walls and floor. I gritted my teeth. It would all end eventually, I told myself. That was my only consolation. I was so invested in the conversation that it would have worn me out if I hadn’t been standing, trying not to move for fear of sound, my head almost touching the floor this drama was being played on. I was like some ghost, listening through the ceiling of hell into the upper world and its woes. 

“Listen carefully, Atteo.” Lipam DeChavitam began again, in a strange voice, “Blood is not so bad a thing. It is a symbol of life, of energy, of devotion. Do you ever thirst for something that’s not water? If something is dead, how do you know? It doesn’t bleed. Blood is life. Read the ancient texts. The sub-gods crave blood. They hated the stagnant world with no life, the dead world. The monuments are a sign of eternity, but really, how eternal are they? Can they die if they’ve never lived? Mankind is more eternal than the monuments, you will see. Mankind will reforge the path between the terra and Emanor. That hidden knowledge will no longer be far away and vague. Where did we get our ideas of beauty in the first place? Why do they never seem to change? They say they are from Emanor, but what if this world now is Emanor? What if we are the sub-gods meant to take our knowledge from here to there? You know most of our views are based on that one little verse in the sixth Canto of creation, “and man took the knowledge and made it his own; pouring it out on the land like a sacrifice to the ones who gave it to him. No earthly dispute could stop his creation of creation.” We are the ones pouring our knowledge and making it real. If we are a creation of creation, so what? In building the altar we are the ones feeding the gods, which makes us the gods ourselves. The more precious a cause gets, the more sacrifices are made. There’s no happiness without great suffering. One will always be losing oneself every day, everyday being killed a little more, but what if it’s on the altar of resurrection? What if this became the land of the dead and so, immortality? Is not that a cause worth giving life to? The sub-gods were ancient, primitive, and burned with passion, which is why so many great things were built for them! We conquer them by responding in the same way! We’ll drag the traitors to the killing blocks one by one until our cause is proved! That is true free will. Being able to do everything and doing it. Sacrifice so much that they cannot justify it, so we become the justifiers! And what of those who stand against us? What of those in petty servitude, cringing away their lives, pushing back against the tide with their weak hands? They will die too, just as they want to. They want to live a life and die. We’re giving it to them! What of our families? Our relationships? Our imagined friends? You see Atteo? You see? Even if Dea is a traitor, yes, she must die. But her death will join the mountain we are building that will reach the sky! If she is a traitor, we will drag her up the altar like all the rest—“

This speech was nonsense, and yet Lipam DeChavitam’s voice grew higher and higher till it reached some unearthly noise. I do not blame Atteo for losing his wits just then. 

“Enough! Enough! What are you saying?! This is all false, all wrong! You lie, you lie!” Atteo shouted, sputtering. 

“I LIE? I LIE?” Lipam DeChavitam thundered excitedly. 

“This isn’t what the revolution is! This isn’t what it was! It can’t be! I know what I believe! I remember when it was good and pure and based on reason and heart! What are you raving?! You’ve changed it! You’re twisting it!” Atteo screamed. 

“I changed the revolution?” Lipam DeChavitam laughed like a demon, “I changed it? You fool, I began the revolution! I made the revolution! It is my creation!”

“Then it’s all a lie! I denounce you! I deny you! I don’t believe anything you say! You’ve been tricking us all, one by one! Draining our life! I will expose you to the world. I reject all these ideas. All these false doctrines!”

“You renounce the revolution? You renounce the truth you’ve tasted,” Lipam DeChavidam spoke clearly. 

“Yes! A thousand times, yes! I don’t care if you kill me, but I won’t give you anything more of myself, or anyone else. If this is what you believe, if you’ve been lying about reformation and freedom, then I curse you! I curse you both and all!”

“I, Lipam DeChavitam, creator of the revolution—“

“You won’t change anything! You are weak! Haha, I see now. One blow to your cover and everything will be exposed! There’s no hope for your schemes!”

“—hereby sentence you to death—“

“Better to have lived and tried and loved than to have the blood of innocents on your hands! What was I thinking? When did I lose my reason?”

“—by the power of knowledge man was given by the fallen sub-gods—“

“Oh the true God! Why did we never think of that?”

“—the punishment of renouncing and blaspheming one’s covenant is death—”

“Oh please, oh please let Dea be happy! Let her escape this!”

“—and death do I now bestow.”

“You are the devil!—” Atteo’s last coherent words were cut off by his scream after a sickening crunch. Something hammered into the ground so near my head I gasped and shook but you couldn’t hear it from the noise above me. Dust fell from the floorboards onto myself with the violent and piercing struggle taking place. Again and again, Lipam DeChavitam’s metal cane beat into Atteo’s skull as he cried and choked and eventually made no noise. Every blow shook me like a blow to myself. The cane beat like thunder into the ground and it rang in my ears as if it was happening a finger length from my face. It was. It was dull and sickening and the ghastly crunch got worse every time. My head was full of it. I might have cried out, but no one would have heard. It filled my head like a drum. 

Finally a last stroke fell…and there was silence. I hadn’t moved in the slightest. I couldn’t comprehend what I had witnessed. I realised I had never believed such things happened in the world. But now I lived apart, with the truth, and I would never be able to sit and laugh in a circle with my fellows in the same way. Something warm was dripping into my hair. I thought it was water. I couldn’t move. It trickled down the front of my face and a few drops met my lips. It was blood. Atteo’s mutilated head must have been right above me. The world was ghastly. 

I heard footsteps moving quietly above me, but still no one spoke. I thought Benti Ruzhetti must at least be shaken as well. The dripping on my head continued, threatening to drive me mad. 

But there were no noises, except the water. 

It was still and calm once more. I actually heard the gentle ocean outside. 

I heard an intake of breath from Benti Ruzhetti, as if he were pulling himself together. 

“I forged the letters between Dea and Lito.” He said finally. 

“Of course you did. I saw the mark of your favourite forger. I knew immediately. It was rather petty, though.” Lipam DeChavitam commented.

“Well, what are we going to do about it? His wife Dea is probably a traitor if she got him to spill all that information without joining us herself. I assume we’ll have to kill her somehow?”

“No, I think you are wrong about that,” Lipam DeChavitam drawled, “She seems too loyal to the late Atteo to have betrayed him so. I think she must be in it. I think we could easily indoctrinate her.” 

“What would be the use? She smells like a spy,” 

“I doubt it. All of his coups have gone off, so she hasn’t let anything slip. To get her on our side would have many advantages…”

“And that worked so well with Cherra Sola? Didn’t it?” Benti Ruzhetti spit out, almost in spite of himself.

I heard a gasp from Benti Ruzhetti and a violent movement from where I knew Lipam DeChavitam was standing. It made my heart jump. I shook just from the memory. 

“If you dare…make any comment…about Cherra Sola…you will not only be betraying our cause…but you will be making yourself my enemy…both of which will end in your very painful death. So take it back or I will cut off your tongue. I suppose you are just a fool,” Lipam DeChavitam hissed in his old man’s voice of hatred. 

“Yes Lipam, master…” Benti Ruzhetti managed in a shaking voice. 

“Good.”

They moved slowly towards the door on the far end, and their footsteps got quieter to me. The blood was all over my face and on my clothes, trickling down my back and my shirt. It was sticky and horrible. The rest of myself was freezing and aching from standing up in such a tight space. I tried to catch any last words…

“But wait…” Benti Ruzhetti suddenly remarked, his voice far down the room. 

“What?” Lipam DeChavitam snapped. 

“What about that fellow Reladol? What if he does know your cover? He might know everything. What will we do about him?”

There was a moment of silence, then a strange guttural noise. It was Lipam DeChavitam laughing. It grew louder and louder, as if he were laughing at some ludicrousy that was so absurd that its very existence was funny. Benti Ruzhetti joined nervously at first, then seemed to see the point, and laughed with spite and contempt. They both left in glee, closing the door behind them, leaving behind the corpse that rested a fraction above my head. 

I stayed where I was for a while, frightened of what I might do if I actually moved. The blood had stopped dripping for the most part, and it was caking in my hair. My last thought was a thought of horror. I no longer felt like an individual and I stared at nothing, into the darkness, my eyes wide. I don’t know how long I stayed there.

I remember, like a dream, finding another one of the trapdoors and climbing up into the inside of the château. I remember seeing Atteo’s body lying near the edge of the room, his head smashed in, unrecognizable, his body splayed over the trapdoor I had been hidden beneath. The moon was the only light. It was white and pale, like death. I remember holding Atteo’s body in my arms, despite the blood and ghastliness of it, and weeping. Death was not as sublime as I had thought. 

I have been lying to you, reader. Or I have not told you the whole truth. There is one thing you do not know, that I must tell you now, and you will see the reason I write this long narrative, and why I tell it the way I do. And even—if you happened to want to know—why I haven’t told Adha Tsava I love her. 

I am to be executed in two days. I have been waiting out my time in this dungeon for the last four weeks, writing this as a desperate last hope. I was sentenced for the murder of Atteo Salacheo and false accusations against Lipam DeChavitam, who apparently is beyond suspicion. 

You can imagine what happened by now. I didn’t think. I lost my wits. I was insane. I broke out of the château through the aqueducts and ran madly to the nearest guard station, covered in blood, dressed as a slave and half frozen to death, shouting about a murder done in the ocean château by Lipam DeChavitam and Benti Ruzhetti and the falseness of the revolution. I was convinced Lipam DeChavitam would flee before there was time to catch him or some other stupidity. They arrested me at once, though the entire militia was all over the cliffs in an instant. I think they may have even questioned Lipam DeChavidam. But that came to nothing. How could I have expected it to? 

Everything pointed to me. It was a long and tortuous trial. They plead insanity, they plead anything, it was no use. The only thing they weren’t sure about was the murder weapon. But I continued to rave about Lipam DeChavidam’s cane and they gave up all defense. 

That is how evil spreads. Their mad actions make you do mad actions in response, and you become just as insane as they. Every day my death comes closer. The hand of the revolution didn’t even need to touch me in order for me to be snuffed out. You see why I write this? I know the truth about Lipam DeChavidam. Every step makes sense. Someday they’ll all discover what he really is; what the revolution really is. He is the devil. 

I haven’t seen the light of day for weeks. I haven’t seen any of my old acquaintances, but I think about them often. I begged the guards for something to write with. They gave me this sharpened pen knife and I carve these words into the newly set walls of this abyss of a cell, deep in the ground, somewhere in the half finished underground city. Will anybody see them? There are too many cells to count down here; too many pits for people’s memories to die in. 

My ankle was never the same after that night. My bloody clothes were taken away and I received my prison ones. There’s nothing else I can do but write this…write everything…and hope someone will someday realise. 

Now I have finished. Or I almost have. I am not dead yet, but I will be soon. I can only guess what lies after. The dreams of what could have been torture me cruelly, but there’s also a peace knowing they were never attainable, never possible. 

I am a madman to the world. Not one living person believes me, except Cherra Adha. Actually, I don’t know if she believes me, for I haven’t seen or heard from her. But I think she does. Perhaps she will pick up my severed head from where it will fall in the dust, and kiss it. Then I will be at peace. Perhaps she will bury it in some precious place. Beneath the fountain perhaps? Not near the water of course, but underneath somewhere? Looking towards the sea? I will never know.