The Survivors (9 page)

At the corner of the main hall, Bradok turned to the back hallway reserved for councilmen.

“There you are, lad.” Much’s voice slammed into him with a near physical force. Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him along the corridor. “When I couldn’t find you at the tavern, I feared for you, boy, and that’s a fact.”

Much paused, straightening Bradok’s coat and brushing bits of dust from the rich fabric.

“Things have gone a bit ‘round the bend here,” he said with a nervous laugh. “How about that Arbuckle? He used that list of believers you made to round up what he’s calling ‘religious troublemakers.’”

“How dare he!” Bradok responded, though he was hardly shocked to have his suspicions confirmed.

“Oh, he dares, he dares,” said Much, all too lightly for Bradok’s taste.

“How does he think he’ll get away with it?” Bradok demanded.

“Well, that’s why he’s doing it all at once, tonight,” Much explained. “If they’re all in jail by morning, he can tell the people it’s all over. Only a few will protest at that point.”

Bradok thought of the mob out front. “There’s more than a few gathering outside already,” he said.

“You don’t understand the kind of power he wields,” Much said, looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “Most of the council is with him—”

“Are you with him?” Bradok said, seizing Much’s arm in a vicelike grip.

“Don’t be getting ideas,” Much said, a deadly serious note in his voice. “The peace of Ironroot stands on a blade’s edge, and anything could set it off. Just keep your head down in there. You can try to rein in some of the more enthusiastic members of the council, but don’t make a target out of yourself. If they think you’re against them, they’ll turn on you like a pack of wild dogs.”

Bradok wanted to protest, but something in his gut told him Much had the right of it. He’d have to just bide his time until he could figure out how to tamp it down and help Silas. Much led him around the outer walkway to where their tables stood side by side.

The council chamber was in an uproar. All around the room, councilmen were yelling to be heard while Mayor Arbuckle pounded his gavel on the lectern for order. In the galleries above, a few citizens who had political pull and others who had eluded the curfew filled the seats. They shouted to one another and to the councilmen below, some of them leaning precariously over the carved railings in an effort to have their opinions heard. In the center of the chamber, a lone dwarf stood, silent and unbent against the cacophony.

With a shock, Bradok recognized him. It was Argus Deephammer.

“Silence, I say!” Arbuckle shouted several times before, finally, the voices in the chamber died away. “You’ve been charged with disturbing the peace,” he addressed Argus Deephammer. “Your fearmongering and slander against this
council are directly responsible for rioting in the streets. Do you deny it?”

“I do,” the dwarf said with stubborn fierceness. “Don’t you see what’s going on around you? You’re losing control of everything. Reorx has abandoned you and left you to your own devices. Now you see that you cannot stand without the aid of your god. You must repent for your godless ways, or we are all lost.”

“I’ll not tolerate such rock-headed idiocy,” Arbuckle roared, slamming the gavel down for emphasis. “The gullible people of this city have been whipped up into a religious mania by you and others like you. You are an agitator and a public menace, and I’ll not have anyone running around loose in the streets inciting violence.” He pounded the gavel down again.

“It is the order of this council that you be bound in Dark-lock Prison until such time that you come to your senses and deny your contentious religious fantasies. I don’t care if you stay there till the mountains fall.”

“Then I won’t be there long,” Argus spat. “You have only a little time left to you, Arbuckle; then you and all those who deny the gods will suffer their wrath.”

“Don’t tout your adolescent fantasies here,” Bladehook piped up. “We have taken your confederates. Soon there won’t be anyone making trouble in Ironroot so you can blame it on nonexistent gods.”

“I have no confederates,” Argus shot back.

“Don’t deny it,” Bladehook said, his face contorting into a mask of hate. “We know about your minions running around the streets with signs and folks like your friend the cooper, who’s building a crazy boat in the Artisans’ Cavern.”

At this a rumble of laughter ran throughout the chamber. Bradok was watching Argus’s face, and he could have sworn he saw a smile flit across the dwarf’s face.

“Ah, at least someone is listening,” Argus said softly. “The cooper is wiser than I.”

“Don’t praise him too much,” Bladehook said with a sneer. “As soon as we’ve dealt with you, I’m ordering that abomination burned.”

A murmur of agreement ran around the council chamber, and two guardsmen came forward and led the dwarf out.

A
fter Argus had been escorted out, Arbuckle ordered the gallery cleared and the doors shut.

“We have before us a desperate situation,” he proclaimed to the assembled council. “These religious zealots are driving a wedge through our community. They refuse to see that their fathers and grandfathers were fooled, taken in by the so-called priests. They stubbornly cling to the old ways, ways that were put in place to keep us under the thumb of the church.”

Angry mutters rose from the council.

“Brothers,” Arbuckle said, standing up behind the lectern and striking what he clearly thought was a majestic pose. “We are at a crossroads. We must decide, here, now, tonight, what the fate of Ironroot will be.”

“What do you mean, Arbuckle?” a dwarf with a bushy beard asked with a puzzled expression. “I thought you have always said to be patient, to wait for the old beliefs to simply die out.”

“There is not time for that anymore,” Jon Bladehook scoffed, standing up at his table. “These zealots, these street preachers, they’re all in league. Isn’t it interesting how they all have the same message, how they all say the same words?
I tell you, they’ve long been conspiring against us, against Ironroot itself!”

Several dwarves cheered.

“Friends,” Bladehook yelled, holding up his hand for quiet. “Councilmen, I have learned the very day when the believers plan to move against us. It is in one week’s time. According to my source, the street preachers say that exactly one week from today, the gods will pour out their wrath on Ironroot. That will be the day of big trouble for us or them. It’s our choice.”

Choice, thought Bradok.

“Preposterous,” someone called.

“Of course, you and I both know that no such thing can happen,” Bladehook said. “There are no gods to anger in the first place.”

“Then why don’t we just wait?” the scruffy-bearded dwarf asked. “When nothing happens in a week, we can show these fakers for what they are. That’ll be the end of the believers.”

“That would just show our weakness,” Arbuckle said. “That’s just what these priests and zealots want, for us to cower and wait.”

Bradok couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew both Argus and Silas, and neither of them seemed to be part of any grand scheme to overthrow Ironroot. Both had impressed him as honest and sincere men. He wondered for the first time how they could believe so fervently in a god when all reason seemed to deny it?

What did they know that he didn’t?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the polished brass device Erus had given him. He couldn’t read the inscription without holding it close, but he didn’t have to read it. He knew what it said.

A person’s destination depends more on his choices than his direction
.

“It’s clear that Argus and his fellow agitators are all in league,” Mayor Arbuckle said, interrupting Bradok’s thoughts.
“We don’t know what they’re planning, we don’t know what will happen one week from today, but they won’t be able to carry out their treachery if they are in prison.”

“What if the day comes and goes and nothing happens but the believers still believe?” Bradok asked.

“That’s a good question,” the bushy-bearded dwarf said. “What are you going to do then?”

“Well,” Bladehook said, a look of sheer delight on his face. “If they are that crazy, that they refuse to acknowledge their folly, I suggest we execute a few of them. That should bring the others in line. Enough of this religious mania. Enough of the believers!”

“That’s a monstrous suggestion,” someone called from off to Bradok’s right.

“We can’t kill our own people,” Bushy-beard said.

“What’s the alternative?” Bladehook said. “Let the priests continue to stir up the people and gain power? Allow these lunatic believers to continue to live among us and spread their fearmongering and poison to our children?” He looked around the circle slowly, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

“Isn’t our children’s future, indeed the future of our race, worth shedding blood for? And who will care in the long run that some fools had to die to make our society better? Are their pitiful lives worth sacrificing our future?”

A long silence followed Bladehook’s grim statement, and his last words seemed to hang in the air.

“You see that I am right,” Bladehook said coaxingly at last. “I take no joy in this,” he went on. “But I say we give the believers until the day after the supposed destruction of Ironroot to recant their foolish behavior and rejoin the ranks of civilization.”

Another long silence hung in the air, with many staring at their shoes, others nodding solemnly.

“So be it,” Arbuckle said at last. “Until one week from today. After that, any that refuse to see reason will be put to
death.” The mayor looked around the room, the gold caps on his mustache twitching, then rapped on the lectern with the gavel. “All in favor?” he said.

“Stop,” someone yelled, shattering the silence of the room. With amazement, Bradok realized it was, once again, his voice. Nobody else dared oppose the measure. “Stop this!”

All eyes in the chamber turned to look at him.

“Can’t you see Argus is a good, honest man? He is speaking the truth, at least from his own point of view,” he said, walking out from behind his table. “I’ve only been in this chamber one week, and I’ve already seen everything he’s accused us of: greed, graft, and outright theft. Aye, there is truth in what he says.”

At that there were cries of astonishment and calls for Bradok to cease speaking.

“No, I must say this: I’ve seen dwarves care more about making money they don’t need than they do about helping those who are in need. I’ve seen business conducted without honor, where every contracted word was twisted for the maker’s advantage.” Bradok swept his eyes around the chamber, half accusatory and half hopeful. His eyes lit on Much, who quickly glanced away. “And now it’s come to this,” he continued. “Now we’re standing here, blaming an innocent dwarf for the crime of recognizing our sins, and preparing to kill those many others whose only crime is believing him? Have we really sunk so low?

“And is it possible, I have to ask myself,” he added in a soft voice, “that he and the other believers are right, and that something is about to happen, something ominous, and that Reorx has done a few of us the favor of warning us of impending doom?”

“Enough!” Bladehook said, pointing furiously at him. “You’ve gone too far, Axeblade. You’re siding with the believers now—”

“No, I’m not, if you’ll just—”

“I call the vote!” Mayor Arbuckle interrupted, slamming down his gavel. “The council needs to rule on my proposed measure.”

More than two-thirds of the hands went up. Bradok, looking around, took solace in the fact that neither Much nor the bushy-bearded dwarf voted aye. But neither spoke up to defend him either.

“Let the scribes write up the decree,” Arbuckle said once he had gaveled the measure passed. “I don’t want any of the believers to be caught unawares. Fair warning to all is fair.”

“If there’s no other business,” Bladehook said, turning away wearily. “It’s late and I’m going home to my bed.”

“I have something to say,” Bradok said, standing rooted to the spot. “You have all heard my views. I cannot condone this chamber’s decision. While I’m not a believer myself, I have always felt that if other dwarves wish to believe in Reorx or not, that was none of my business. We supposedly live in a free society, one of laws and justice. Well, how can it be truly free if dwarves aren’t free to believe anything they wish?”

“I’m sorry, son,” Mayor Arbuckle said, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder, speaking in a tone that showed genuine feeling. “You’re just too young to understand what’s at stake here. We have to protect Ironroot for the greater good.”

Bradok stared at him then pointedly removed the mayor’s hand from his shoulder. “I understand that you see things that way,” he said. “That’s why I can no longer serve on this council.”

An astonished gasp issued from the councilmen. It was a great privilege to serve on the council, and more than two hundred years had passed since any dwarf had renounced his seat.