Utopia falling, p.6
Utopia Falling, page 6
Druin Derr was worried.
Teth was too quiet.
Dirty Deeds of Holy Men
Teth: 27th day of the Salmon Moon
Razoal | Jerithan
First Lord Jerithan Cree woke early, as was customary for the leader of the Temple of Life faith. Lord Jerithan’s most trusted ally, Razoal Baswun, slipped into his bedchamber to ensure the First Lord would be up early enough to prepare for the first of many events on the Feast of Teth, in the city that bore the goddess’s name.
The First Lord’s designs for the Feast of Teth went beyond the traditional, perfunctory religious events. If all went as expected on this day, the First Lord’s plan to deal with Reyne Brenton and Madrotti Tomelai would come to fruition, the first steps in his scheme to grasp even greater glory—uniting all four nations under his banner in creating the Empire of Tartica.
First Lord Jerithan Cree was a short man, slightly overweight, with salt-and-pepper hair hugging his temples just below the baldness, which took up a large piece of territory on his head. Jerithan Cree looked older than most at fifty-one but burned with more ambition than his frumpy frame suggested.
Second Lord of the Temple of Life, Razoal Baswun, greeted his leader, his friend and his co-conspirator with an emotionless, “It’s a good day to serve God and those devoted to the Temple, my lord. We’ve got a lot to do. Time to get up.”
But Jerithan was already awake, as was obvious to Razoal, who pulled the cover off the lume crystal jar set in the alcove near the bedchamber’s door. The soft green light reached out from the alcove to fill the room as best it could. Razoal Baswun continued to glide across the cavernous space in his flowing green ceremonial robe. He moved effortlessly, drawing back curtains on the east window.
It’s such a large room, more than any one man needs, Razoal thought, just as he did every morning when waking the First Lord. He shared many private thoughts with his leader, but never that one.
Razoal stopped momentarily to reflect, Why haven’t I ever said that to my friend?
Razoal guessed Jerithan might not understand or approve of his Second Lord passing judgment of him. Though not really judgment of Jerithan but on the trappings of the Office he held. In the end, Razoal didn’t think Jerithan would care much for whatever reason. It was one thing he resolved never to share. They were allies and friends, sure enough, yet it was Jerithan and not Razoal who held the position as First Lord of the Temple of Life. It wasn’t Razoal’s place, friend or not, to judge traditions of the Temple or to judge his friend’s desire.
Razoal, walking towards the window, looked around at the enormous circular room just as he did every morning. He might not have approved, yet he was in awe, just as he was every morning. This will be an eventful day. How fitting it should start in this magnificent room.
One could not help but admire the fine artistry that went into it. The domed ceiling by itself was a marvel. What inspired Razoal more than any other feature was the feeling of being outdoors, being one with nature, the compelling mural created. And that respect for nature was at the heart of the Temple’s faith. A faith Second Lord Razoal Baswun was devoted to. His decision to join with his First Lord to take control of the continent grew out of his devotion, and in his belief, it would best serve the remains of humanity that populated Tartica. The room reinforced his commitment to both.
First Lord’s room followed one continuous mural and afforded no transition, flowing from floor to wall to ceiling. Nature emerged as though standing in a forest: the painted walls of trees, undergrowth, nurse logs and leaves, hundreds of thousands of green leaves, green of every shade and leaves of every shape on the endless branches on the hundreds of trees of every kind found in the natural world, all lined endlessly along the walls and appeared to recede off into the forest. Branches reached the dome and flowed from the walls to form the ceiling; a woodland came to life painted on the walls.
Looking up enhanced the feeling of standing in a glade. Along the dome, the branches gave way to a bright blue sky on a sunny day with clouds drifting overhead. The skilled hands of artisans left not an inch of the First Lord’s bedchamber untouched. Painted on the floor were millions of individual blades of grass that looked as natural as the genuine gift of nature Mother Earth offered in the world outside the room. Only a wash basin, privy pot, desk, conference table and a large four-poster bed distracted one from the feeling of being joined with nature. A special room Razoal understood provided strength to Jerithan as he had contemplated many important decisions since the Council of Prudents chose him First Lord.
Razoal assumed the room gave his friend strength each night as he lay down to sleep and each morning as he rose. Strength to lead the followers of the congregation, from commoners with their petty problems to the bullshit politics of the ruling classes. The room was a cathedral. A representation of the glorious gift Mother Earth presented to humankind, one of many found in nature so graciously depicted in the room.
Razoal pulled back the heavy green curtain embroidered with scenery to fit seamlessly into the mural scene. He unlatched the upper and lower hooks of the tightly fitting shutters of the eastern window. He swung open the left shutter, as tall as three men, followed by the right. Morning light flooded into the bedchamber. Turning his head towards the large four-posted bed, he said, “We’ve been together a long time, my lord, and today will be the start of even grander heights.”
“Yes, we have, and yes, it will,” Jerithan replied, while propping himself to a sitting position against the headboard. “And I wouldn’t be here, in the First Lord’s bedchamber, without that strategic mind of yours.”
“You give me too much credit, as usual. I haven’t been the one to hold on to it these past three years or the one who consolidated your support amongst the Council of Prudents. No, my lord, I only serve.” Razoal bowed respectfully. He was as close to the First Lord as anyone, but even he knew his place, friendship notwithstanding. Razoal knew the true nature of his friend. Jerithan Cree demanded respect due the Office, and in Jerithan’s mind, he and the Office were the same. It conferred the title and position of First Lord upon him and him alone, an unbroken line of legitimate leadership over not only the religious world but it conferred de facto influence into the secular realm as well. Nobody but Jerithan himself, as he saw it, was responsible for his own rise to power. Razoal was grateful for the compliment, yet smart enough not to accept it.
With his hands clasped at his waist, Razoal stood just a few steps from the window he had just opened. “You know, I can wake you each morning for the next fifty years, and I will never lose this feeling. The feeling I get from the scenes on the walls, from the branches reaching up to the sky. It is a testament to the gifts He has bestowed on you. You’re a lucky man, my friend, to sleep here each night.” Razoal let his hands drop to his side and slowly moved them behind his back as he brought them together again.
“I know the feeling well,” Jerithan replied, even though he didn’t. He was a believer, but Jerithan Cree believed in Jerithan Cree more than anything else. Committed to doing good for the followers of the Temple of Life, he believed he could make a difference in their lives. It was just that they were secondary to his own well-being. He hid it well, even from his good friend Razoal. He suspected Razoal had him figured out, yet Jerithan understood the man well enough to realize Razoal would never allow himself to speak aloud the shortcomings of his leader.
Jerithan counted on Second Lord Razoal’s deep faith more than his own in leading the faithful. “We’ve got a lot to do today. That means you and me both.” Still sitting up in bed, he offered a big, knowing grin. Behind the look on his face was knowledge of the plans they had set in motion. Plans that promised far-reaching consequences.
“We both have our parts to play, just as we planned, Second Lord.” Jerithan purposely used Razoal’s title as a reminder of who was in charge.
“Let’s get you dressed. We have Firstmeal Ceremony with the Council of Prudents in a little while. You know what that’s going to be like.”
“You know why I enjoy the Firstmeal Ceremony?”
“You ask me that same question every year,” Razoal replied, reaching for the green silk comforter covering Jerithan’s ornate bed. As the bedsheets flittered over the plush mattress, Jerithan swung both legs around to hang them over the side.
“I know, but you know why, right?” he asked, slipping both feet into his slippers, palms pressed against the mattress as he stood.
“Let’s just say I get your position has evolved, grown deeper, since the first time we did this. I faithfully support you in your view that this day begins with the Temple of Life leadership gathering to symbolize the Temple’s being unified under your leadership for the secular Heads of State to see.”
“Good!” He laughed. Jerithan let his sleeping gown drop to the floor, stepping forward into the bathrobe Razoal held out for him. His naked form held little attention for either man. Leaving his belt unsecured around his expansive waist, he walked to the privy pot to relieve himself of his water. Jerithan stood and reflected on the plans they made for Firstmeal as the prelude for what was to come later in the day. While watching his water begin its brief journey into the basin in front of him, he turned to look over his shoulder at Razoal. “Everything set for today?”
“I’ve completed all the preparations you’ve asked of me.” He picked up a towel that was draped over the handle of the nearby washbasin and handed it to Jerithan. “I’m certain Firstmeal with the prudents will go off as expected, just as I am certain that what we arranged for the Chancellor inside The Stand will as well. He will not exit it alive. How many twists and turns did we have to take to get this far?”
Jerithan wiped his hands and tossed the small towel back to Razoal.
Standing before the washbasin the First Lord splashed cool water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair. Razoal handed the towel back.
Jerithan took hold of the fabric and rubbed it over his face. Returning the cloth to his faithful Second, he said, “We’ve done our best to plan for Tomelai’s demise. Remind me, did you involve the Anatese in our plans?”
“I did not. They would not engage with me. Only you. Involving you in such a base act of assassination is beneath your Office and something we dare not expose you to with the Anatese. Plans are in place, but the Anatese are not involved. Even though we won’t have them aid us, I’m all but certain they’ll stay out of it. When have they ever intervened in any goings-on inside The Stand? They’ll stay out of it.”
Jerithan looked around the room, thinking about what it represented to the followers of the Temple of Life when he heard the Voice in his head whisper to him, “Every man is alone, especially here.”
Jerithan never knew when the Voice would speak or where it came from. He had a hunch but couldn’t be certain. Was it God himself?
He stopped to think about what he just heard responding in his own thoughts. What do you mean, here? He stood silently, waiting for a reply. The two had many conversations even before Jerithan Cree ascended to the position of First Lord.
No reply came from the Voice.
Jerithan asked of the Voice in his thoughts, Do you mean here in this room? Here in this place? Or is your meaning deeper? Alone as First Lord? Again, nothing but silence. Alright, my silent friend, I’ll bite. What’s your point? He waited for an answer, oblivious of Razoal moving about the room. The Voice, the source of whispers in his head, had been insightful before, always offering something worth considering whenever it spoke.
And then it came, laughing at him, mocking him, challenging him. “You figure it out.”
Jerithan always thought divine providence had a hand in him becoming First Lord. To Jerithan, the Voice was proof. He suspected God spoke to him, and to no one else. The one God was guiding him again, just as it guided him through the politics of being selected First Lord. The Voice helped him throughout his tenure.
So why now are you laughing? You’re right, though. I am alone, here, now, in what I must do. It is for the good of the Temple. It must be this way. You helped me plan all of this, so why are you laughing now? I await your insights.
No reply from the Voice was forthcoming.
“First Lord.” Razoal was standing in front of him. He called out again, “Jerithan!”
“What? What? What’s so damned important?” the First Lord spat out.
“You’re doing it again. You’ve been standing there staring blankly at what I cannot guess. We cannot do that at the ceremony with the prudents this morning.”
The Voice joined in. “Razoal is treading on dangerous ground. Friend or not, it does not grant him the liberty to question your competency. He should be grateful it happened while you’re both alone. Razoal has seen you do this too many times. It would be a problem if your enemies observed such behavior.”
Annoyed at Razoal, the First Lord waved his hand at the man as a dismissive exclamation point. “I’m fine, just reflecting on what comes after we rid ourselves of Tomelai.”
Razoal took the reprimand with little fuss, pleased it wasn’t anything more. He let it go at that. Razoal and Jerithan would face several powerful prudents on the Council who were not supporters of the way the First Lord had led the Temple these past three years. As First Lord, Jerithan had the authority to lead the Council of Prudents, yet he served at the Council’s pleasure.
Jerithan was their equal before his ascension, one of thirty-two on the Council of Prudents, not more than three years ago. Razoal could imagine what Prudent Serco would do if Jerithan froze like he just did in front of the Council. Serco would waste little time undermining Jerithan to the point of removal from Office, rallying support for a vote of revocation. Serco thought the First Lord position should have been his.
Bowing to his leader, Razoal took another approach to remind Jerithan of what was at stake. “Serco, our dear fellow prudent, has been busy behind the scenes. He speaks of you in glowing terms in public, and he provided important information about Chancellor Tomelai’s arguments supporting electrics due to come up in the Council of Nations meeting. The final factor in our decision to move against Tomelai this morning. But we both recognize what Serco’s been covertly doing amongst the other prudents.” Razoal had his spies everywhere. A holy man, Prudent Serco might be, Razoal thought, but only a man just the same.
“It can be dirty work trying to lead a group of holy men and women down the right path,” Jerithan offered as an obvious conclusion to Razoal’s concerns for the Firstmeal Ceremony. “We are sentinels. As leaders, we hold the basic tenants of the Temple of Life to our hearts, dedicated to the natural way of life. If there is any truth in the scriptures, any truth at all, it was the reliance on machines that led to the Great Destruction. The raping of the world’s limited natural resources and the struggles between greedy city-states that contributed to the Second Age coming to an end,” Jerithan said, and Razoal heard the passion in his voice.
“It’s been the Temple that has held back the forces inching humanity to return to the machine world,” Razoal proffered, sucking up to his leader and friend while reciting the vague history of Earth’s past leading to its demise as taught to all in childhood. Whether any of it was true, nobody in the Third Age knew, but the story was what they all believed—as a matter of faith.
“We’ve come this far, my friend,” First Lord Jerithan observed, “but we’ve come as far as this way of life can take us. They will remember you and me for centuries to come when we lead the Temple of Life and what remains of God’s special creatures into a new era. I will change everything. I will unite all under my leadership. No nation-state leaders will remain for us to deal with. If we succeed in this, and we will, history will honor me for millennia to come.”
Continuing to ingratiate his First Lord, Razoal chimed in, “Who else but the Temple itself, the defender of natural-based technologies as the only acceptable path ahead?” Razoal didn’t want to steal any thunder from Jerithan, and so he offered only enough to keep his friend on the path from which he could not be moved.
“Well said, Razoal! Who else but us? You and me! But there are a few on the Council of Prudents that stand between us and greatness, between the children of Teth and better lives. We must pave the way and let the bodies drop in the wake of our success!” Jerithan slapped Razoal hard on his back in confirmation of their shared bond.
Razoal gauged how worked up Jerithan was. He appreciated how his friend reacted every time the two of them talked about pulling the Temple of Life out of the shadows of secular power. The Temple could be more than religious authority. Only the Temple of Life could rule over all of Tartica. But everything could come down on them, and there wasn’t any opportunity for even one wrong step.
Razoal put in, “Serco will be a most powerful foe.”
“He’s right, you know,“ came the soft whisper of the Voice into Jerithan’s mind. “You need this. The world needs this. You can help humanity to become great again, all under your leadership. They will hail you for millennia for what we do now… and the nut farmer from that little, inconsequential village. He must be eliminated as well. He can’t get in our way.”
Jerithan offered to the Voice, Plans are underway for this morning’s events and yes, “we” are hopeful both the nut farmer and the Chancellor will be behind us before this day is over.
The First Lord quieted his mind and waited for a reply. No reply came forward.
Jerithan searched his mind and discovered only silence. “Razoal, it’s just you and me. Let me know as soon as you hear that it’s done.”
