Stuck in Magic CH5

To answer a handful of questions …

The story is set just after the end of Oathkeeper, but it is on the far side of the Allied Lands (Think France vs. Korea) and there’s only limited awareness of everything that’s happened since Emily’s arrival in SIM.  Emily herself is partly a legend – and hardly anyone knows she’s a cross-dimensional traveller.  Elliot would guess it, if he put the pieces together.  (Jasmine isn’t going to say much about Emily.) 

Emily has scooped up most of the low-hanging fruit, when it comes to tech improvements.  Elliot knows stuff he can’t really use without investment and time (to make the machines to make the machines).  He’s far from stupid, but he doesn’t have any of the advantages Emily enjoyed.  (Heroine, Daughter of Void, Noblewoman, Sorceress, Etc).

There isn’t going to be any major contact between the two characters (perhaps).  I’m not sure how canonical this story is going to be, which is why I’m doing this as a long-running serial rather than a more normal project. 

Chapter Five

I couldn’t decide, not really.

The city did start to grow on me, as Jasmine and I spent a handful of days exploring the streets.  It was weird and wonderful, yet – in so many ways – alien and horrific.  There was a bit of me that insisted I could fit in, that I could find a job and build a life for myself, and there was a bit of me that wanted to stay with Jasmine and her people.  It wasn’t easy to decide.  The city wasn’t a very safe place and yet staying with the travellers would mean – eventually – subsuming myself in their society.  They’d made it clear they would accept me, but only on their terms.  And I wasn’t sure I wanted that kind of life for myself.

I spent the week, when I wasn’t helping Jasmine and the others, exploring the city.  The basic design reminded me of New York – the streets and buildings were laid out in regimented patterns – but generations of inhabitants had laid their own work on top of the chessboard, creating their own little worlds within the city.  I walked past temples for a dozen different gods co-existing in uneasy harmony, then strode through a magical section – it was oddly empty, as if no one visited unless they had business there – and peered into what was self-evidently a gated community for the rich and powerful.  The guards looked nasty enough to deter anyone, beyond hardened thieves.  I guessed they had authority to do whatever they liked to intruders.  The law probably didn’t apply to the wealthy.

My instructors had taught me to learn the lay of the land.  Or the lie of the land, as one of them had cracked.  It wasn’t easy.  I spoke to people – Jasmine had encouraged me to speak to as many strangers as possible, to ensure I leant the language quickly – but few of them really wanted to discuss politics.  The questions I wanted to ask would raise eyebrows, I was sure, because they were the sort of questions that would make it clear I really was a newcomer.  I bought mugs of foaming beer in bars and taverns, then sat and listened unobtrusively as people – merchants and farmers, mainly, as well as runaway serfs – talked and gossiped.  And, slowly, a picture began to emerge.

The city was, technically, a free state.  It owed loyalty to the king, but the king didn’t seem to have any real authority over it.  The city itself was run by the city fathers, who were elected by property owners.  If you didn’t own property, I guessed, you were effectively disenfranchised.  The property owners could run the city to suit themselves.  Or could they?  The merchants grumbled about taxes and tariffs laid down by warlords and aristocrats, making it harder for them to turn a profit as they moved from city to city.  I had the uneasy feeling the city’s independence wasn’t anything more than an illusion.  The walls were strong, but the city could be surrounded and besieged very easily.  I doubted the locals had enough food within the walls to withstand a siege.  The local warlord could bring them to their knees very easily.

There were more and more details, from a hundred different people, that I tried to slot into a coherent whole.  There was a king, who had a daughter … and only a daughter.  The general opinion seemed to be that she’d be married to one of the warlords, sooner or later, and the outcome would be civil war as the rest of the warlords banded together against their new king.  It definitely sounded like a recipe for trouble.  I did my best to work out how the different places went together, but it wasn’t easy.  My mental map was effectively blank.  They might as well have been talking about somewhere on the other side of the world.

The stories seemed to grow wilder as they touched on events further and further away.  A king turned his kingdom into a land of the dead.  A naked woman rode a dragon and melted down a castle, in hopes of putting the rightful heir on the throne.  A sorceress lost her powers, only to come back stronger than ever before.  A university … the word brought me out of my listening trance.  Was there another dimensional traveller?  Or was it just a wild coincidence?

I mulled it over for a while, then dismissed it as useless.  The stories were so wild that I couldn’t tell how much of them were actually true, if any of them were true.  And even if I knew, what could I do with the knowledge?  I had no way of knowing where to find him or … or anything.  If people were being dumped randomly into the world, they could be scattered right across the globe.  The thought made me shiver.  I could have found myself drowning if my car had been dumped into the ocean …

A sense of loneliness washed over me as I stared down at my drink.  The night was growing darker.  The erotic dancers were coming onto the stage, but … I didn’t want to look at them.  I felt oddly disconnected from the world around me, lost in my own thoughts.  The patrons were starting to hoot and holler, waving their hands at the dancers.  It could have been a rough bar near a military base, except … I stood, leaving the beer for whoever wanted it.  I didn’t trust it.  Alcohol was supposed to be safe, but I had my doubts.  Besides, I’d seen enough shady characters around to know it was better to remain sober.  The last thing I wanted was to be mugged.

The darkness was hot and muggy, the air smelling of spicy food and rotting meat.  My stomach churned as I walked past a row of stalls, selling something akin to kebabs and sausages.  I didn’t want to know what went into the meat.  Behind the stalls, a sewer gaped open.  The stench almost overpowered the food.  I forced myself to breathe through my mouth as I kept walking, heading down the road to the campsite.  I didn’t want to be anywhere near the stalls, not when they didn’t even have the slightest respect for hygiene.  The sewer had to be a breeding ground for disease.

I kept one hand on my pistol as the crowd closed in around me.  They were just too close … I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that I’d been all around the world.  And yet … I tried not to look at the street rats – little boys, mainly – running through the crowd’s legs.  They wanted to rob me, to steal what little I had … I shuddered as I saw a small boy who was probably a girl.  Her face had been so badly mutilated that I knew it was just a matter of time before she died in a ditch.  No one seemed to be helping the poor kids.  Their lives had only just begun and yet they were already over …

My gorge rose.  I’d seen poverty in America – I’d grown up in poverty – and yet, this was different.  This was worse.  There wasn’t any hot and cold running water, let alone computers, televisions and any other modern concepts.  I’d learnt to hate the people who thought they were helping my community, as a young boy, yet I had to admit they were trying.  Sometimes very trying.  Here … there didn’t seem to be anyone interested in helping the poor.  I guessed that anyone who did would have very dark motives indeed.  The boys could be turned into pickpockets, like Oliver Twist; the girls … I shuddered.  I didn’t want to think about it.

I heard someone shouting further down the street, sounding more like a carnival barker than a protester.  I hesitated, then walked towards the noise.  I wasn’t the only one.  The shouting was coming from a courtyard, just like the one granted to the travellers.  I frowned as I passed through the crowds, noting that the onlookers seemed to range between very rich and middle-class.  It was odd, I thought.  What was it … a flash of light burst out of nowhere, illuminating the courtyard and revealing a stage.  A show?  I stared as five people were pushed onto the stage.  For a moment, I thought it really was a show.  And then I realised it was something far worse.

Horror flowed through me as I took in the sight.  Four of the five people were in manacles, making it impossible to fight or run.  The fifth wasn’t shackled, but had a nasty-looking collar around her neck.  Generations of atrocities flashed through my mind as the barker – no, the slave dealer – started to talk.  The slaves were a mix of colours, but … I recoiled in horror.  My ancestors had worn chains too.  Was this what awaited me, if I stayed in the city?  Or what …

The dealer kept babbling.  The shackled men had been legally enslaved, he insisted; they were good for five days work out of every seven.  I recoiled as the bidding started, the price rapidly going up and up.  I couldn’t believe anyone would bid for a slave … no, I knew better.  I’d seen slaves in the Middle East.  If this culture accepted slavery, if it saw nothing wrong with enslaving people … I studied the slaves themselves, trying to determine how they felt about the whole affair.  Two of them – insanely – looked pleased.  A third was loudly declaring that he was worth more than a pittance.  I couldn’t understand it.  It was just horrible.

My mind raced, trying to come up with a scheme to free them.  But nothing came to mind.  The crowd would tear me to pieces if I tried … I touched the pistol, then shook my head.  Back home, orders had prevented us from doing anything about barbaric traditions.  Here, I was just as helpless.  All I could do was watch.

I turned away as the collared girl was pushed forward.  The crowd grew louder, screaming for her to take off her clothes.  She was pretty, her tanned face a mix of a dozen different roots.  I granted her what little privacy I could by not looking, cursing myself for … for what?  There was nothing I could do for her, but look away.  I forced myself to push my way through the crowd and out of the courtyard, fleeing the helplessness gnawing at my very soul.  I’d heard of horror – I’d seen horror – and yet the sight behind me had unmanned me.  There was nothing I could do.

It’s easy to be detached if it happened in the past, or in a country that isn’t yours, I thought, in a fit of self-mockery.  But it’s harder to just watch it happen when you’re trapped in the same world …

I lost track of time as I stumbled through the city.  Rationally, I knew I shouldn’t be surprised.  Slavery was the mark of a primitive society, with a primitive mindset.  It wouldn’t survive the dawning industrial revolution … or would it?  Slavery had been on the decline in the United States before the Cotton Gin had suddenly made it cost-effective again.  I didn’t want to think about it.  And yet, the nightmare pressed against my mind.  What sort of society would condone such treatment?  I really shouldn’t have been surprised.  I’d seen enough, over the last few days, to know I was trapped in a medieval world.  Slavery and serfdom was just … normal, as far as the locals were concerned.  I wished, desperately, for a portal back home and a chance to recruit my army buddies.  Magic or no magic, a small army of men with modern weapons could punch out the opposition and start reshaping the world.

But it’s not going to happen, I thought.  Whatever force had brought me here had done so, seemingly, at random.  Jasmine had told me there was no way to guarantee I’d get back home.  I am trapped …

The air changed.  My instincts sounded the alert.  I looked up and frowned as I spotted a gang of older toughs, manning what looked like a makeshift checkpoint.  They were an oddly diverse lot, but there was no mistaking their intention.  A young lad eyed me as I walked towards him, gauging my willingness to stand up to him.  I looked back at him evenly, silently daring him to try something.  I didn’t like the odds, pistol or no pistol, but I didn’t have it in me to back down.  Show weakness to a human wolf and he will be forever at your throat.  The boy stared at me for a moment, then shrugged and said something to his companions.  I guessed it was a dismissive remark, a droll observation that I probably didn’t have anything worth the effort of stealing.  I understood, all too well.  It was important to save one’s face in such a world.

I heard laughter behind me.  The brats were laughing at me … I ignored them with an effort.  The City Guard should be dealing with them, but … the City Guard didn’t seem to be good at anything beyond pushing people around and, really, it wasn’t much good at that either.  I found it hard to believe they had any sort of authority, let alone a way to keep the street toughs under control.  Back home, the cops had all sorts of advantages.  Here … they didn’t even have a monopoly on legal force.  No wonder the city was so ridden with crime.

My thoughts were spinning, again, by the time I reached the campsite.  The travellers were packing up, readying themselves for the next stage of their eternal journey.  Brother Havre gave me an unwelcoming look … I balled my fists, trying to resist the temptation to start a fight.  He’d spent some time, yesterday, trying to convince Jasmine to walk out with him.  She hadn’t been interested.  I thought he was jealous.  Idiot.  Jasmine was young enough to be my daughter.

Jasmine herself was sitting by the caravan, brewing a potion over a fire.  She looked up and smiled as I approached.  “Did you have a good time?”

“No,” I said, bluntly.  I was too tired to dissemble.  “I saw a slave market.  I … how did they wind up slaves?”

“Depends,” Jasmine said.  “People in debt sometimes sell themselves into slavery to pay off their creditors.  Or they are enslaved, by order of the court.  Or … criminals are enslaved to repay their debt to society.  In theory, we are told, a slave can earn money for himself so he can buy his freedom.  In practice …”

“Let me guess,” I said.  “The slave’s master will keep charging interest until the slave owes him more money than ever before.”

“Sometimes,” Jasmine agreed.  “It does work, sometimes.  The slaveowners aren’t supposed to cheat the slaves.  A slave who knows he has no hope of buying his freedom is a slave who can turn on his master, or simply run away.  There’s a certain incentive to play fair.”

I squatted beside her, feeling sick.  “It’s disgusting.”

“Yes,” Jasmine said, flatly.

“Doesn’t anyone try to change it?”  I shook my head in disbelief.  “It’s … it’s horrible.”

Jasmine shrugged.  “The city-folk have their little ways,” she said.  “They can govern themselves as they wish.”

“As long as they don’t upset the local lord,” I pointed out.  “Right?”

“Yeah.”  Jasmine let out a breath.  “Even for us, freedom is never free.”

I sighed, inwardly.  I thought I understood.  The Diddakoi had their freedom, but it came with a price.  They were a highly-stratified society, one that could never put down roots or become a steady community.  Those who chose to play by the rules were welcome.  Those who didn’t were either shunned or asked to leave.  I wondered, suddenly, if Jasmine would be pressured into marrying  her father’s choice, even though she had magic.  It was never easy to leave a tightly-knit community.  I’d known people who’d been cut off from their families for marrying outside their culture. 

Jasmine snapped her fingers at the fire.  It died, instantly.  I felt a shiver, despite the warm air.  I was never going to get used to magic.  It was just … unnatural.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Jasmine said.  She stood, brushing down her skirt.  “Do you want to stay?”

I hesitated.  I didn’t want to stay in the city and I didn’t want to lose myself in the Diddakoi.  They weren’t bad people, but …

“I think I’d like to see the next city,” I said, finally.  “Is that allowed?”

Jasmine grinned.  “It’s just the same as this one,” she said, waving a hand towards the nearest building.  “The name is different, but the people are just the same.  Unless you go to Dragon’s Den or Pendle and they’re both on the far side of the world.”

I nodded.  I wasn’t sure Jasmine’s grasp of geography was any better than mine, given how vague she’d been about how some places related to others, but if a town was over a hundred miles from Damansara it might as well be on the other side of the known world as far as the locals were concerned.  There was nearly three thousand miles between New York and San Francisco and, without modern transport, travelling from one to the other would take months.

Jasmine touched my hand, lightly.  “You can stay for the next part of the journey,” she said, “but you’ll have to make up your mind soon.”

“I know.”  I wished I had an answer.  There wasn’t much I could do for the Diddakoi, beyond manual labour.  It wasn’t as if they needed me.  Jasmine had been very kind and helpful, but I knew it was just a matter of time before she went back to school.  And then … I snorted at the thought of going back with her.  What place did I have in a school of magic?  “I’ll decide at the next city.”

“Good.”  Jasmine grinned at me.  “And right now we’d better get some sleep.  Grandfather wants to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”

I saluted.  “Yes, My Lady!”