Chapter 50. Orientation

  Jeremiah had no idea how long he slept. Underground, there was no clear indication of the passing of time. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and why everything was bathed in a soft blue ambient light.

  “We’re almost through this,” he whispered to Gus. “Just some recon, get the lay of the land, learn what we can. Then we can head home and this whole thing can be someone else’s problem.” Gus gave him a weary chirp.

  The murder threatened to push its way back into his thoughts, but Jeremiah closed his mind to it. It was done, and he had to live with that for the rest of this life—no point agonizing over it now, when there was so much still at stake.

  “ Atta boy ,” said Allison. “ Get the job done and come on home .”

  Jeremiah left his room and headed downstairs. Lyle was speaking with the innkeeper, and somehow conveyed delight through his mask as Jeremiah entered the room.

  “Jay! Wonderful to see you, did you rest well? So glad to hear it. Come, let me show you around. There’s a wonderful café just this way, you must be famished.” He ushered Jeremiah out of the inn with a gentle guiding arm.

  “Now don’t be nervous,” said Lyle, “it’s going to be a lot to take in, but I promise most everyone in the flock is very friendly.”

  A passerby waved to Lyle, and he returned the greeting. “First things first—robes are optional, masks are not. We don’t really have rules here per se, in fact that’s kind of the whole point of this place, but the masks are for everyone’s mutual protection and safety. We won’t force you to wear it of course, but don’t be surprised if you get…er…reprimanded for going without one.”

  They passed a handful of individuals who had eschewed robes for typical clothing, and a group who walked completely nude together, save for their masks.

  Lyle led Jeremiah down the magically illuminated streets, stopping only to offer greetings when someone acknowledged him. Jeremiah could see that once it became clear he was performing an orientation, the others let him be.

  “The main point of our little community is freedom,” said Lyle. “You’ll find no guards down here, only the law you can enforce yourself. Anything you want to do, you can.”

  As they passed one building, Jeremiah heard a chorus of passionate moans and gasps coming from inside. No, more than a chorus—it was a swarm.

  “So when you say I can do anything…” asked Jeremiah.

  “Anything!” exclaimed Lyle, gesturing emphatically. “This is the last great bastion of true freedom. I want you to shake off that feeling of looking over your shoulder you had topside. It’ll take time, I know. But down here, you are well and truly free.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Jeremiah. He imagined a serial killer would have quite the time down here.

  “It can be, but no more dangerous than topside, really. I ask you, how many crimes do guards truly prevent? More likely they just harass honest men. The law is just an illusion of security. Down here, we’ve stripped away the illusion. Down here there is true equality in—no, wait,” Lyle held up his hands. “I promised I was going to stop proselytizing to new people. I get too excited and can’t stop myself. That café is right this way.”

  They sat down together at a small table outside a small café that would have looked at home on the streets far above. Jeremiah poked a small flower decorating a window box. “I thought this whole area had been overrun by kobolds.”

  “Ah, yes. It was, until we took it over and put up some barriers. I recommend you stay away from any small holes in the perimeter walls. The kobolds don’t venture here much anymore, but anything outside of our territory is theirs. We’ll show you all the safe ways in and out, don’t worry.” He waved a hand and a small figure arrived with a pair of coffees.

  “Hey, Lyle,” said the young woman carrying a pair of coffees. She wore durable work wear and a mask was decorated with painted orange flames curling around the eyes.

  “Hello, Madella,” said Lyle. They leaned in and tapped their masks together in a facsimile of a cheek kiss. “How's the roast today?”

  “Well enough, not sure I let the beans breathe as long as I should have though. Give a test?” asked Madella.

  Lyle tipped his mask back to slip the cup underneath.

  “Male, shaved, no scars, strong chin.” Jeremiah noted what features he could see in that brief moment.

  “Hm,” said Lyle. “Touch bitter.”

  “‘Fraid of that,” said Madella. “By the way, I could use some new copper piping for the stills. You know someone for that?”

  “I do, but we can talk later. I'm working right now.” Lyle nodded towards Jeremiah.

  “Oh!” Madella turned towards Jeremiah. “So sorry, I didn't even notice. Welcome!” Jeremiah could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Thank you,” said Jeremiah. The presence of something as mundane as a café down here was distressing.

  “He got the new guy blues?” Madella asked, eyeing Jeremiah. “Who'd he come down with?”

  “Nascent, I believe,” said Lyle.

  “Oof,” said Madella, recoiling at the name. She rested a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder. “You're here now, hun. I promise it’s worth it! Come by and see us anytime, till you find your feet.” With a comforting squeeze, she left them to their coffee.

  “Ah, another tip for you. Make friends! People down here have a lot of proclivities. Some stranger than others, but we all have them. So we generally are willing to help each other fulfill those desires, and are helped in turn. It’s never too early to network Jay, networking is very important down here. Don’t be afraid to just say ‘hi’.”

  “Of course. Do you know a guy who calls himself Ol’ Pete?” Jeremiah asked.

  Lyle almost spat his coffee. “Yes, I'm sorry to say. That vulture had been orbiting us for a while, trying to circumvent the proper channels. If you, or any of your friends, happen to kill him, I will consider it a personal favor. One I will pay back in spades .”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I used to try and keep tabs on who owes him what, but it's impossible. By the way, you don’t get to admit anyone. We have people for that. You can point them in the right direction, but discovering us for yourself is part of the journey. And the test.”

  “And the test…” Jeremiah's head dropped to his chest as a wave of emotion washed over him. He’d killed Monty in cold blood, stabbed him when his back was turned. Snuffed out his life with a few quick strokes.

  “Steady ,” said Allison.

  Lyle reached across the table and put a hand on Jeremiah’s. “You did what you had to do to get here. You earned your freedom. Same as anyone else down here. You're not alone.”

  Jeremiah could barely hear him. Those fragments rushed back, flashing before him. “He didn't see it coming. He trusted me.”

  “Hey, look at me, Jay.” Lyle lifted Jeremiah’s chin. “You did what you had to do. That's all there is to it. It's harder for some of us than for others, but it’s what brings us together. You’re free now.”

  “Keep it together Jay, there's still work to be done,” said Allison.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “You didn't have to-” started Delilah.

  “Later,” insisted Allison.

  “But I-” thought Jeremiah.

  “Later!” said Allison, “we mourn the losses later. Losses of comrades or losses of ourselves. We mourn later. Keep fighting, soldier.”

  Gradually, the wave receded. “I’m alright.” He took some deep breaths. “I’m alright.”

  “You will be,” said Lyle. “Drink some coffee, you’ll feel better.”

  Jeremiah sipped his coffee. The heat helped center him. “You’re talking about ultimate freedom. So I could just, for example, up and kill Madella, and no one would stop me?”

  Lyle nodded. “If that were your desire, by all means. Of course, someone might stop you. She might stop you. You might get killed for it after the fact, in fact with Madella I guarantee it. But you have the freedom to do whatever you like, and the people around you, in turn, have it as well.”

  “How is that different from topside?”

  “Excellent question!” Lyle’s eyes weren’t visible behind his mask, but Jeremiah imagined they were shining with excitement. “Have you ever found yourself powerless before those who were simply born richer, or stronger, or luckier than you?”

  Jeremiah thought of the countless people rushing past him, too disinterested to toss him a copper so he could eat. He thought of the long march from sleeping spot to sleeping spot, always moving for the sake of keeping the guard’s boots out of his ribs. He thought of his fate being handed down by a court who had already decided he was to be enslaved. “Yeah, I have.”

  Lyle’s voice softened. “Topside, you are bound by unjust laws, by societal taboos whose purpose is to control you. People are thrust into their station in life with little means to escape, entire lives are spent toiling in service of those above.”

  Jeremiah found himself nodding, in spite of himself. He added a lump of sugar to his cup, stirring it as he thought. His spoon rode the ridge of the cup for just a second, eliciting a shrill ceramic screech.

  “Ah,” said Lyle, flinching at the sound. His cringe was apparent even beneath the mask. "Sorry, that noise cuts right through me." Jeremiah laid his spoon down with apology and Lyle relaxed. “Down here,” he continued, “there is no judgement, no arbitrary power differences. There is only the freedom to live your life as you see fit.” Lyle tapped his coffee cup to Jeremiah’s in a forced cheer.

  “So this girl,” said Jeremiah gesturing to Madella, “killed someone so she could run a cafe?”

  Lyle laughed into his coffee, “So to speak. To run a cafe free of taxation, regulation, and certainly at a greater profit. Ask her to put some whisky in your coffee and she’ll do it. Topside she’d need to be registered as a bar, and pay greater taxes, for a simple favor of spiking a morning coffee at their customer’s request.”

  “So she killed someone,” said Jeremiah.

  “Not everyone has the same requirement of entry, and it’s not my place to discuss hers,” said Lyle, quashing the inquiry.

  Jeremiah looked around the cafe, taking in the ambience in the silence. Decorated as it was with colorful tapestries, cushions for seats, and tiny pillows abound, it was still an ancient building. He could see signs of old graffiti scratched into the walls, some still nearly legible.

  “Gorrus makes…” the rest was scratched out, but beneath that, replacing the original message, “my daddy…cause he can’t.” Part of the replacement text was illegible as well.

  Jeremiah was beginning to grow uncomfortable. After Nascent, he’d been expecting more of…of whatever Nascent was, not this social commentary that he kept finding himself on the verge of agreeing with. He drained his cup and set it onto the table. “Can we keep walking? I want to see for myself.”

  Lyle nodded and placed a gold coin on the table as they left, a gesture Jeremiah was certain had been for his benefit.

  The little utopia was roughly a dozen city blocks to a side. Robes and masks aside, it was remarkably similar to a stroll in any other city. As they headed towards an open market square, they began passing more and more people, as well as stalls advertising food, drugs, weapons, animals, sexual favors, and stolen goods of all varieties.

  Jeremiah observed that money exchanged hands most times, but not every time—some transactions seemed to fall in the realm of barter, and at least once he spotted a small-statured woman simply take what she wanted with no effort to conceal her theft, and no clear response from the merchants. For her, a hard glare was apparently payment enough.

  The same woman gave Jeremiah and Lyle a cheery, “Hullo!” as she passed. Everyone seemed remarkably friendly, a far cry from the attitudes he’d grown accustomed to on the streets of Elminia. Jeremiah had to assume walking by Lyle’s side came with certain privileges.

  He had to admit it was more pleasant to be here than up above. There was no furious rush of traffic, no beggars to be kicked or overlooked, no guards ready to beat anyone who chose the wrong stoop to take a rest. People seemed…happy.

  “It’s a delusion,” said Delilah. “Society’s laws exist to protect us from people like this. You’re looking at a congregation of predators.”

  “How many people are down here?” he asked. “Do they all get a personal tour from the man in charge?”

  “Down here right now or in total? I want to say around twelve hundred total? But at any one time, who knows. Plenty of people coming and going. We have many members who only stop by now and then.”

  “And the tour?”

  Lyle chuckled. “No, not everyone gets a personal tour, I admit, though I do try to meet new people when I can. I was informed you might have some talents that could be uniquely valuable to us as an organization.”

  “Because I’m a mage?” asked Jeremiah.

  “That very thing.”

  An alarm bell sounded in Jeremiah’s head. After all that talk about freedom, of course Lyle intended to manipulate Jeremiah for his own purposes. But he smiled and followed, just another willing member of the flock.

  “Dismal!” one man called out to Jeremiah. His robes were full to bursting, and his mask was pockmarked with gold leaf and had two tiny stylized horns on top. “We’ve got the purest dismal here! Corruption paste as well, eyebite, poppy juice, you name it we got it!” Jeremiah had accidentally made eye contact and was now being hawked directly. “New guy! I’ve got what you need! Amnesiatics of every flavor! First taste is free with me!”

  “Need anything?” asked Lyle.

  “Let me have a look,” said Jeremiah. He had spotted the resiny weed that Allison had given him amongst the various troughs and bottles of drugs. “What’s this one here?” he asked.

  The shopkeeper told him.

  “I see,” said Jeremiah, “thank you.”

  “It’s okay, in case you’re wondering, you won’t get in any trouble down here,” said Lyle, stopping to give Jeremiah time to view dazzling selection, tastefully organized by color and implement of application. There were purple needles, gray bricks, green salves, red waxy weeds, vials of clear liquid and more.

  “No I get it, I’m alright,” Jeremiah said again, apologizing to the vendor.

  “You come by anytime, new guy, Papa’s here for you!” said the vendor. He went back to calling his wares to the crowd.

  “Ah, here’s someone you should know,” said Lyle. He led them towards a raised stage and waved to a man with a mask that had been painted fully forest green with thin purple lines coming down from the eyes. The man grasped a leather wrapped mace in his left hand and a bundle of ropes in his right, each of which led to a collar around the neck of a person. The collared individuals wore rags over their emaciated bodies and burlap hoods over their heads. One of them was clearly a child.

  “ See? ” said Delilah.

  “Ah ,” thought Jeremiah.

  “Morning, Lyle,” said the man. “New blood today?”

  “Good morning, Cocar,” said Lyle. “Yes, this is Jay. He’s new to our ranks and has a bright future ahead. I imagine he’ll be able to make excellent use of your services after he finds his footing.”

  “Wonderful! Pleasure to meet you, Jay. Feel free to reach out with requests anytime.” He inclined his head towards Jeremiah before bringing his wards up onto the stage.

  “I feel compelled to ask about what appear to be slaves, amongst all this freedom,” said Jeremiah as Cocar began to show his wards off to the crowd, pulling the hoods off their heads with a flourish.

  “Slaves is a legal term,” said Lyle. The first was a human woman, staring around herself with wide terrified eyes.

  “Here we go,” thought Jeremiah. The second was an older gnomish man. Cocar held up his delicate fingers as evidence of a skilled worker.

  “You may find it hard to believe, but many of Cocar’s indentures come to him willingly. They choose indenturement contracts to secure food and to pay off debts that might otherwise be life threatening.”

  The third hood, the child’s, came free to reveal a human boy, perhaps eight years old, with hollow cheeks and bulging yellow eyes that darted from face to face, finding only cold porcelain masks turned back towards him.

  “So they just freedom themselves into lifelong bondage,” said Jeremiah. He felt sick.

  “Some do, yes,” said Lyle, “others' contracts are temporary. But, as I said, they are often the result of a voluntary exchange. It was a choice. Sometimes people regret their choices, but that’s the price of freedom.”

  Jeremiah cast his gaze around the market square. He spotted more people wearing collars, ropes, or chains among the crowd, but unlike the true members of the flock, the slaves wore no masks.

  “Remember,” said Lyle, “you’re under no obligation to use indentures yourself. Just because you can doesn’t mean you must. Most of us adopt ‘ a live and let live’ philosophy. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your fellows impeding on your personal freedoms? Extending them the same courtesy is simply being a good neighbor.”

  “Of course,” said Jeremiah. Cocar was now bent to negotiate with shoppers, ordering the slaves to demonstrate whichever actions the potential buyer was interested in. “Wouldn’t want to impose my will over anyone else.”

  “My thoughts exactly!” said Lyle. “Now, if you’ll step this way—there is something I have been really looking forward to showing you.”