Partisan Saga, Chapter VII - Dreaming of a Peace

            If they had told Oddriser that a place existed within The First City that did not reek of positivity, he would have laughed. He would have laughed hard and loud, and the echoes of his mockery would carry to the farthest reaches of the City- or so he told himself. Now that he languished in the dimly lit and musty smelling cell, however, he rethought that notion. As far as prisons went, it was not at all a bad place; cobbled stones made up the walls, the floor. Unlike the streets throughout the overly decorated city, the stones that built his cell were blank and gray. Apparently, they had run out of the precious rubie or sapphire or topaz gems. The door was also stone, A single slab of slate. It loomed, impassive, immaculate, markless, the only feature upon its face a small barred gap for his captors to peer in and ensure he had neither escaped nor perished.

            Still, the sturdiest of stone proved no obstacle for Oddriser, nor did the most resolute metal. The static air within his confines posed more of a limitation. It almost buzzed with a mute energy. The power smothered his like a too-hot blanket, slowing his conductions, depleting his strength, burdening the forces at his command. The Collaborators had certainly spared no thought in regard to his captivity. And though they had sought to account for every measure…
            “Oddriser.”
            The Selector lifted his gaze to find his brother peering through the slot in the door. “Cagneidu.”
            One.
            “The Collaborator your man wounded will survive, but still nurses a significant injury.”
            “I am grateful for his life,” Oddriser replied.
            “Brother, be grateful to Counsel.”
            “I apologize, Brother. You know my powers do not lend themselves well to mending.”
            “You are correct,” Cagneidu replied. “For men and for pacts.”
            “I did the best I could, given the circumstances, Brother. You saw to it yourself with the ledger.”
            Cagneidu’s eyes narrowed. “Regarding the ledger…Counsel tells me that there was an item on there that you attempted to wrest from the Collaborators- an Almanac…”
            “Peol-walr’s Almanac, yes. Counsel tried to keep it from us.”
            “That was not on the list.”
            “But it was, Brother! You saw with your own eyes the ledger that I was to bring before the Collaborators.”
            “I did, and I approved of it,” Cagneidu agreed. “But the almanac was not on that list, nor should it have been.”
            Oddriser stared at his brother; only the static of the cell passed between them.
            “The Almanac is not ours, nor was it, nor will it ever be. It was wrong of you to seek it.”

***

            The cool breeze that swept through the desert did little to soothe Cagneidu’s concerns; the breathtaking sunset, with its oranges and yellows and reds, did just as little. With measured and meaningful steps, he joined Counsel by the wall.
            “How long do you intend to hold Oddriser?”
            Collaborator and Selector eyes met, and the former replied: “Your brother is free to emerge whenever he deems he is ready. As I told you, he requested such imprisonment.”
            Cagneidu nodded. “I just don’t understand, Counsel.”
            “Who understands Pelomect Oddriser and the men he commands?”
            The wind filled the silence, and Cagneidu let his gaze sweep over the rolling sand dunes while the deep purple of dusk crept upon the world. In the moment, both wind and waning sun seemed harmless, pleasurable; the same forces in the day killed men.
            “Friend Counsel, It is not solely Oddriser of whom I speak.”
            The Collaborator’s brows twitched in response. “Please. Speak your mind.”
           

***

            “You are wrong, Brother,” Oddriser insisted. “The Almanac is a product of Selector hearts and minds. It belongs with our people.”
            “To claim the Almanac as ours is inaccurate, at best,” Cagneidu disagreed. “The knowledge within belongs to people of all.”
            “Then you acknowledge that it is not a working of the Collaborators,” Oddriser pressed.
            “It is not.”
            “Then why, Brother? Why not seek the Almanac?”
            “Brother, you know precisely why. It is no more ours than theirs- and by your very word, your intent in coming to The First City was to obtain those things which rightfully belong to our people.”
            “And I have remained true to my word, Brother. I have not asked for that which is not ours. I made no breach, not in regards to my word to you, nor upon the bounds of Collaborator society.”
            “You placed a crater in their road.”

***

            “I do not wish to speak ill of the Collaboration,” Cagneidu assured. “But how can you expect bloodshed to stymie bloodshed?”
            “It is a bold move, to be sure,” Counsel replied with a rueful smile. “I do not wish it, you must know.” He turned away and observed the City. In the early evening, the precious stones of the road now reflected the flickering firelight rather than the steady gaze of the sun. The inhabitants still upon the streets traveled homeward as the business of day concluded.  “However, these are my people. Though I wish no harm for Oddriser, nor his men, nor your people, I must ensure that my kin understand that they are second not to Selectors, who may march into our City and conduct themselves poorly upon a whim.”

***

            Oddriser glared at the wall, color in his cheeks. “That was done with no ill will, Brother. The Collaborators would not lend me their ears, and Counsel himself had asked for my words.”
            “And the destruction of their lands would convince them to listen to you.”
            “It did, for a time,” Oddriser admitted.
            “For a time,” Cagneidu repeated. “Brother, if you must resort to such measures to carry your word, what does that say about your voice?”
            “I would say that it means people respect power, but quickly forget it.”
            “You are wrong. People offer their ears only at the fright of what you might do to them otherwise. There is no respect for you or your power, and if such frightened folk gained the means to remove you, they would take it up in haste without a moment of hesitation.”
            “Then perhaps it is better that they continue to fear me, Brother.”
            “Those are the thoughts that turn the Collaborators from you.”

***

            “So you must prove a point for your people,” Cagneidu finished.
            “You are a leader for your people as well, Cagneidu,” Counsel reminded him. “What would you do in my position?”
            Cagneidu turned his gaze back to the desert. His thoughts followed the effortless and inevitable rolling of the sand dunes, the winding patterns that covered the sandy expanse. “I would allow the Collaborators to depart from the Second City with that which they had come for, and I would instruct my people to disregard vengeance, to avoid violence or retribution. Hate breeds hate. Grudges do not die well.”
            Counsel kept his focus on the now sleeping city. Faint plumes of scented smoke wafted from the chimneys, and despite the cold chill of the evening winds, he found a subtle warmth budding as he looked upon his people. “They do not. But there is already a grudge festering because of Oddriser and his men. It will not be swept away by desert winds, nor buried in the sand, nor dry to baking in the sun. It will not depart for words alone. Instead, it will fester in the gutters of my City, a rot ill cleansed, until it poisons every last man, woman, and child.”

***

            “Explain yourself,” Oddriser demanded. “You and I are joined by the same which divides us from the Collaborators- how we as people view knowledge.”
            “Brother, we are indeed joined in our belief of knowledge and its keeping. However, the Collaborators, the people of the First City, do not fear me.”
            “They do not trust you, either, Brother.”
            “They don’t,” Cagneidu agreed. “But they respect my word, because I offer no threat to smite them, though our ideals may differ.”
            “If the Collaboration were interested in discussing ideals,” Oddriser snarled, “they would not have pursued us, accosted us, Brother. Force is not merely a matter of power, physical or otherwise. To lean aggressively upon a people is a threat, and only a slim margin lies between a threat and its actioning.”
             “Brother, I need you to see that there are other lines,” Cagneidu pleaded. “You measure only in might, imagined or actualized, and are quick to abandon neutral words when they do not perform to your expectations.”
            “If this were true, would we not have come to blows by now, Brother?” Oddriser retorted. “You and I do not always meet eyes.”
            “Our peace is kept because, and only because I do not stray beyond the bounds of your patience for words over action. A peace kept through my practice of respecting your word, even now. Especially now— where you have let me down.”
            Oddriser glared.

***

            “It will not depart for further violence, either.”
            “I believe it will,” Counsel said. “Do not misunderstand me, Cagneidu. Even now I hold no ill will. But if we leaders conduct ourselves where the public may see us, they will get their satisfaction, and we may end the conflict.”
            “It is not that simple,” Cagneidu disagreed. “As leaders, we must be ever careful of our actions. If we are to draw swords upon one other, our people, like children, might aspire to do the same, without understanding the true reasons for our actions. Worse, they may do it out of vengeance for our lives, or our honor. The very rot you speak of would only grow, exacerbated by violence among heads of state.”

***

            “The truth is, the almanac does not belong to the Collaborators. However, it does not belong to us Selectors either.”
            “If it is neutral, then why are we not allowed to claim it through mettle, or at least share of it?” Oddriser reasoned. “That is what the Collaborators would say.”
            Cagneidu’s gaze became stern. “Two reasons. First and foremost, to share upon the conditions of an outside party instead of self-governing, quite frankly, would be an embarrassment to our tenets of Selector society. You know this.”
            Oddriser scowled. “The second, Brother.”
             “Secondly, to claim the Almanac from the Collaborators would cause unnecessary strife.”
            “I see.” Oddriser rose and paced the confines of his cell. He lifted his gaze to the wall before him, placed a hand upon it, his focus intense, as though some secret had been inscribed there. “I see it now, Brother. I understand.”
            Cagneidu met the eyes of his brother, unsure of what he himself saw. “Do you now?”
            “Please call the guard. I am ready to be released.”