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stupidity, but he explained it fairly enough, and he did not excuse the
Shaftali
either, for their failure to offer hospitality to the invaders, allowing the
land the time necessary for it to exercise its power upon them.
"Many people have talked to me in the last weeks about the reconstruction of
Shaftal, as though we needed to just take up the stones of a fallen wall and
mortar them back together again. It must be understood here, and across the
land, what the Sainnites of Watfield Garrison already know: The walls cannot
be
rebuilt. What we seek, what we need, and what is right for Shaftal, is not
merely reconstruction, but transformation."
When the Paladins learned that Emil and Medric had collected many thousands
of
supposedly lost books, it had been the dead of winter, the time of killing
cold.
But a Paladin party had set forth to fetch the entire library. Ever since
then,
Clement had hardly ever seen a Paladin without a book. It had been explained
to
her why Paladins must be scholars, but only now, as Emil began the heart of
his
speech, did she truly see what a philosopher could do. Emil did not tell
these
newly promoted councilors what must be done, or how. He spoke, instead, of
what
mattered. Several times, to emphasize points that seemed likely to rouse
people's ire, he opened the box, leafed cautiously through the fragile pages
within, and read directly from the Mackapee manuscript:
Community begins in simple acts of kindness. To be ethical is simple. Power
is
given, but never taken and never possessed.
Emil finished. People stood up and cheered. Clement also stood, and the
commanders imitated her: Blank, bored, sullen. They looked at her as if to
ask
what her next unreasonable demand would be. They would never understand in
time.
People were crowding towards Emil to shake his hand. In the rising din,
someone
shouted something about tea. Karis broke away from a fierce conference with
the
Truthken. A chair blocked her way. She yanked it aside and grabbed Clement by
the arm. "Let's go." She dragged her irresistibly away, through angry and
eager
conversations, into and out of apparently impenetrable tangles of people,
directly to a heavy, earnest, weathered farmer, around whom had gathered a
number of equally earnest people, all talking at the top of their voices
about
how dangerous and unjust it would be to ignore the terrible crimes of the
past.
Karis interrupted. "You're the second man in four days to say I've got no
right
to speak for the land. Should I be grateful that you said it with words and
not
with snake poison?" He stared at her, shocked. "I am notùö
ôYou aren't? Well explain the difference, will you?" The Midlander glared up
at
Karis as though he were facing down an angry bull. "Maybe if people felt they
had another recourseù"
"So you'd do away with me so you can do whatever you want to the Sainnites?"
Page 42
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Clement attempted to dislodge Karis's grip from her elbow, but it was
hopeless.
The Midlanderùa brave man, if a foolish oneùcontinued obstinately, "What kind
of
land will this be if we reward the criminals? We must have justice if we are
to
have peace! Murderers must be convicted of their crimes.'"
"And you think that calling it justice will change the fact that it's
vengeance?"
Clement said, "Excuse me, Karis. Councilor, there's no need to convict us. My
people are murderersùI admit it, though I wish it were not so. Yet if you
treat
us as criminals, you leave us no choice but to continue to be criminals."
"Not if we defeat you!" the earnest farmer cried.
Some people in the group uttered grunts of agreement, but others drew back in
dismay.
"I've learned not to infuriate Karis, myself," Emil said.
Clement stepped aside for him, and Karis's clench on her arm abruptly
relaxed.
He carried a beautifully painted porcelain teacup in an equally beautiful,
though mismatched saucer, from which rose a plume of exceptionally fragrant
steam. This he handed to Clement. In Shaftal, apparently, the reinforcements
always arrive with a teacup in hand. Emil looked around at the people, and
Clement tried to see what he saw: Jerem's power did not lie in his anger, his
loud voice, his insistence, or even in his logic.
"Karis speaks for the land," Emil said. "Therefore, she should be impossible
to
ignore." The people who had drawn away edged even further back. One was
glancing
about as if seeking a friend in the crowd. Perhaps he would join the cluster
nearby, where occasionally could be heard the voice of a Basdown cow doctor.
Power is given but never taken, and never possessed, Clement thought. How in
bell would soldiers be convinced of such crazy ideas? She herself had been
convincedùnot because of that day, but because of all the days that had come
before. But the time in which the commanders might also be convinced was
quickly
fleeing.
Chapter 6
On that significant morning, Zanja had found Medric in the frigid,
many-windowed
round room that he had cluttered with pens and papers but hardly ever used.
He
huddled in a deep chair, cushioned by pillows of clashing colors, wrapped in
at
least three woolen blankets, with a book too massive to hold in his lap lying
open nearby on a sturdy stand. His spectacles, both pairs of them, rested
upon
the book. With his eyes closed, he seemed ridiculously youngùa skinny boy,
possibly unwell, at a hazardous age.
Zanja squatted with her back against the closed door. Her breath condensed
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