Chapter 16 Lyris
When they first looked down upon Lyris from a nearby hill, Wataru had the distinct impression that this was not his first time seeing it-that he had been here before, somehow. Everything looked familiar: the brightly colored peaked roofs on each of the houses, the cathedral with the bell tower, the brick-lined streets, the green trees, the loose, comfortable clothing people wore, the bright smiles on the faces.
That’s right! It looks just like Wizdom, the town where the Academy of Magic is in the second Eldritch Stone Saga!
“What a lovely place,” Meena said breathlessly, standing next to him. “No wonder they make such beautiful things here. They need only take a quick look around for inspiration!”
Their first destination was the Lyris branch of the Highlanders. If they ended up staying awhile, they would need to find some employment.
“You’re Highlanders? That’s a surprise. I suppose you live long enough, you see all sorts of things,” said the branch chief, an older ankha man with a polished bald spot on his head. He introduced himself as Pam.
“To tell the truth, my first name’s Tat, but my last name’s Pamskarovmaeltostralasky… Everyone just calls me Pam.”
There were four Highlanders working for the local branch, all of them ankha. According to Pam, more than eighty percent of Lyris was ankha, with only a smattering of the other races living in town.
“It’s the ankha who work at crafts. Our fingers and hands are built for that work, you see. And little kitkin ladies and big old waterkin can’t stand the heat by the furnaces for long.”
Chief Pam was easygoing and a big talker, and he asked them for any news they might’ve heard on the road. It was his first time hearing of the wildfire in Maquiba and the overturned darbaba cart accident, and he listened with eyes wide in surprise. Wataru was amazed by how laid-back he seemed. Like night and day from Kutz.
“Lyris is a peaceful place, as you can see. The only incidents we have are little things: a child who got lost while picking berries, an explosion at a workshop near the town offices.”
An explosion seemed like a big thing to Wataru.
“Just a mishap while making fireworks. There were no injuries, and since it happened at night, it was rather a nice show.”
There were a number of empty rooms at the branch offices, so they were told to stay there in lieu of lodgings. While they stayed, they could help with town patrols, and there was a regular watch. While they listened to Pam’s explanation, a pretty girl with long black hair brought tea to them.
“Ah, my daughter, Elza. She helps with the busy work around the branch.”
“Hello,” the girl said with a smile that made dimples in her cheeks. “You’ve had quite the journey!” Wataru guessed she must be about fifteen or sixteen years old. In real-world terms, she would be a high school student. The color of her skin made Wataru think of the white bowls he often saw at expensive Chinese restaurants—as delicate as flower petals. She was almost too pretty to be believed.
Suddenly, Wataru found himself thinking of Kaori Daimatsu. Their faces were completely different. But the graceful air to them, like a fairy’s, was quite similar. Theirs was an unearthly beauty.
I wonder how Kaori is doing?
A sharp elbow jab in the ribs snapped Wataru out of his reverie. Meena coughed. “Shouldn’t you ask him about Mitsuru?”
Oh, right. Through sheer force of will, Wataru tore his gaze away from the girl’s face.
“A sorcerer about your age? Hmm…” Pam scratched his round, bald head. “This isn’t like Gasara, where we check everyone at the town gate. It’s hard to say who’s visiting the town at any given time. You might ask around at the lodges.”
Too bad. He hadn’t expected finding Mitsuru to be that easy, but still, it was a disappointment.
“Of course, a boy sorcerer would stand out, and if he’s still staying in Lyris, it shouldn’t take long to track him down—not for us Highlanders.” The chief suggested that they take a walk around and familiarize themselves with the town. There was still time before the scheduled patrols began.
Kee Keema leaned forward. “Actually, I was hoping we could visit Toni Fanlon’s workshop. Could you tell me where it is?”
The chief’s eyes suddenly became sinister-looking slits. “Eh? Fanlon?”
Elza, carrying tea to some of the other Highlanders, let a cup slip from her fingers. It fell on the floor and smashed. “I’m sorry,” she said, hurriedly picking up the pieces. The chief shot a quick glance at her. When he turned back to Kee Keema, the same pleasant smile from before had returned to his face. “If you’re looking for his workshop, it’s off to the north end of the marketplace. You won’t have any trouble finding it.”
Roughly speaking, the town of Lyris was shaped like an apple. The core was home to the branch and town offices, hospital, school, and the mayor’s private residence. Four large roads ran from the core out to the edges of town, one in each of the cardinal directions. Each of these roads had a name, and the marketplace took up much of Bricklayer Street that led to the north, running along it in a narrow succession of shops and stalls. At the very end of the north road, right where the stem of the apple would be, stood the cathedral with a large bell tower.
The tower stood high over the cathedral, casting a shadow across the rooftops in the afternoon sun. Completely captured in that shadow, on a small street corner, they found the Fanlon workshop. Here there were several houses crammed tightly together. Each seemed to be leaning in its own direction without any regard for its neighbors. There was no sign of any sort, nor any wares on display. It was a two-story house of old brick that had dried and cracked in the sun over the years. Wind and rain had leached the color from its walls, and the door was a simple, single panel of worn wood.
The people on the street were very kind, and everyone was happy to show them the way to the workshop. Someone even offered to take them there—it was easy to get lost in the marketplace crowds. When they finally came to the house they couldn’t believe their eyes. How could the most famed jeweler of Lyris, known even in the lands of the Empire to the north, live in such a humble house?
“Well, nothing left to do but knock, I suppose,” Kee Keema said, making a fist with his massive hand and stepping toward the front entryway. Just then, the door swung out and smacked him directly on the nose.
“Ouch!”
Bouncing off Kee Keema’s leathery snout, the door slammed shut into whoever had opened it.
“Ack!” came a yelp from inside.
“Ah, many apologies,” Kee Keema said, bowing. A young man stepped out from behind the door, holding his bruised nose with one hand.
“Hmm? Who might you be?” the youth asked, favoring them with a suspicious glare. He was an ankha, and very tall for his age. He wore a black shirt, black trousers, and a white workman’s apron that reached down to his knees. His glossy black hair was tied in a knot behind his head, and this made him look like a rock star—or maybe somebody from a kung fu movie.
“Toni Fanlon?” Meena asked cheerfully. “We came here from Gasara hoping we could take a look at some of your crafts.”
“Customers, are you?” the young man said, rubbing his nose and sounding relieved. “Then come on in. I’m not making anything very special at the moment, but you’re welcome to have a look.”
He opened the door for Wataru and the others, and then took a step back. “But I must head out on an errand shortly. I’m afraid I can’t welcome you for long…”
The young man’s eyes narrowed. He was staring at Wataru. Rather, he was staring at the firewyrm armband Wataru wore on his left wrist. “You’re Highlanders?”
His voice sounded entirely different from a moment before. “You are, aren’t you? That’s the mark of a Highlander, isn’t it?”
Wataru became suddenly nervous. “Yes. Yes it is.”
Toni shook his head, his ponytail waving back and forth, and stood in Kee Keema’s path just as he was about to step inside.
“Then I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave,” he said quickly, his face going pale. His face was ashen and seething with anger.
“But, but why?”
“We came all this way…” Meena cut in. “Is there something wrong with Highlanders? Don’t you like them?”
Lightning flashed across Toni Fanlon’s eyes like two black jewels. “Hah. I take it you’ve not met Chief Pam yet?”
“We met him, sure,” Kee Keema answered. “We asked him where we could find your workshop.”
“And he told you?” the man asked, his every word clipped. “You lie!”
“It’s not a lie. I mean, he only said you were off to the side of the market, he didn’t tell us the exact location. We had to ask a few people on the way.”
“It’s true. We want to see your work. I didn’t think we’d be able to buy anything, of course, they must be very expensive…”
Toni bit his lip and shook his head. “I wouldn’t sell one of my works to a Highlander, or any friend of a Highlander, no matter what the price. No selling, no showing. Now leave.”
The door shut with a slam.
The three stood with their mouths open, uncertain how to process this rapid turn of events. Faces peeked out of nearby windows and doors, then quickly withdrew. This must be a common sight, Wataru thought. He heard stifled laughter from somewhere above his head. It seemed like even the cries and pithy market noises drifting from Bricklayer Street mocked them.
Kee Keema closed his mouth with a snap. “Step aside, please,” he said to Wataru and Meena. They each took a step back.
“Many thanks,” Kee Keema said with a toothy grin. Then he clenched both hands into fists and stepped back across the narrow road saying “One step, two steps, three steps,” in a loud voice as he paced backward.
“What are you doing?” Meena asked frantically. The waterkin charged toward the door, answering as he flew past, “I could break through five of these doors!”
“Wait! No!”
“Kee Keema!”
Wataru and Meena tried to tackle him. He growled like a hunting dog and shook them off in two steps. “What?”
“No violence!”
“You saw how rude he was? What’s with that attitude? And he calls himself a merchant. Bah! When you meet someone like that, you give them a good whack on the chin, that’s what you do. The Goddess herself don’t stand for that kind of attitude.”
“Please, wait!” came a girl’s voice from down the street. They turned to see Elza picking up her skirts as she ran toward them, her long hair flowing behind her.
Breathing heavily, her hand on her chest, she said, “Y-you…Toni, he…”
“He turned us away at the door,” Kee Keema said, gnashing his sharp teeth. Wataru knew the waterkin was a gentle soul and would never do a girl like Elza any harm, but seeing him there baring his teeth would have given anyone a fright. Elza caught her breath and pleaded with them. She looked on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, I should’ve come with you…”
And then she collapsed.
“I must have given you quite a scare.”
Elza was sitting on a hard cot in the corner of Fanlon’s workshop. She had regained consciousness, but her face was whiter than the sheets on the bed.
Wataru’s earlier shout of surprise had brought Toni running out into the street. With no hesitation he picked her up off the ground and carried her inside. Wataru and his friends took advantage of the situation and shuffled into the workshop. Until she opened her eyes, Toni hovered protectively by Elza’s side, and wouldn’t let anyone approach the bed.
“I bet they’re lovers,” Meena whispered to Wataru. “And Elza’s the branch chief’s only daughter—that’s drama just waiting to happen.”
Elza sat up, and when she saw Wataru and the others, she immediately began introducing them to Toni.
He shook his head. “Who cares about them? How do you feel? Are you all right?” Toni asked worriedly, trying to keep her from sitting up. “Your heart is weak. How many times have I told you—you shouldn’t be running.”
Elza smiled weakly. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I guess I’m still just a child at heart.”
“You came chasing after us. Thank you. Are you okay?” Wataru asked from behind Toni. The craftsman whirled sharply around.
“It’s your fault,” he said coldly.
“Please, Toni. Don’t be that way to them,” Elza said, taking his hands into her own. “They’ve come from Gasara searching for one of their friends. Yes, they’re Highlanders, but they just arrived here and only spoke to my father briefly.”
Toni Fanlon rubbed his forehead. His mouth was still curved into a jagged frown. “All Highlanders are the same.”
“That’s not true. I’ve not been to Gasara, but I hear it is quite lively. There’re all sorts of people there, all races and classes, living together, no?” Elza looked each of the three in the face as she asked them. They all nodded in agreement. She then grabbed Toni’s hands and looked into his eyes. “Please…things are different in other towns. Don’t judge them based on the Highlanders here.”
“Erm…” Kee Keema began hesitantly, scratching at his cheek with a long hooked claw. “Sorry to interrupt, but could somebody explain what’s going on here?”
“Yes, of course,” Elza said, catching her breath and blushing. Then, leaning on Toni’s arm for support, she sat up.
“I’m guessing there’s a difference of opinion between your father—the branch chief—and Mr. Fanlon, here?”
“Opinion!” Toni said, his anger rising again. “That racist has no right to an opinion.”
“Can you please not get angry like that, just once?” Elza said with a laugh. Wataru and Meena smiled too. Toni’s scowl only darkened.
“He’s my father, so perhaps it’s not my place to say this…” Elza began, looking down at the floor. “But my father, he thinks that ankha are superior to the other races.”
“But isn’t Pam the branch chief? How can he do a fair job of keeping the peace if he’s prejudiced?”
“Who says it’s fair?” Toni said bitterly. “The non-ankha in town can’t go to the Highlanders for protection. No matter what happens—theft, burglary, arson—if the victim isn’t an ankha, the Lyris branch won’t budge. More than that, if the criminal in question happens to be an ankha, they erase all record of the incident off the books, and let them go free.”
“That’s terrible!” Kee Keema exclaimed.
“Worse, should a non-ankha commit a crime against an ankha, or even injure them or damage property by mistake, they are arrested without question. Sometimes they’re killed on the spot without a trial, or brought back to the branch cells where they are tortured to death.” Toni clenched his fists. “And things have gotten worse lately. When something happens to an ankha, there’s no investigation, they just assume it was a non-ankha who did it. They pick a likely suspect from the houses near the victim, say poverty was the motive, and take them into detention. We all know what happens next.”
It sounded like South Africa during apartheid. “Are there other kinds of discrimination in daily life here? Like separate facilities for different races?” Wataru asked.
Toni’s eyes opened wide. “There sure is. How did you know?”
“I know of a similar situation in another place,” Wataru replied. I saw it in a movie once.
Toni folded his arms across his chest. He walked over to the workshop window and looked outside. “The main avenue around here is Bricklayer Street. That’s where the workers who first built Lyris lived. They used to bake bricks in their houses. The noise and dust was fierce, and it was always hot from the furnaces. That’s why, when the pace of construction in town slowed, the old bricklayers all left, and this became a place for the poor to live.” Toni turned back around to Wataru. “Didn’t you notice outside? The people you see in the windows here are all non-ankha.”
Now that he mentioned it, Wataru realized it was true.
“I’m the only ankha living on this road, in fact,” Toni spat. “The nonankha make up less than a quarter of Lyris’s total population. There were more in the past, but they got angry at their unfair treatment here, and left. Of course, that was only the young, or those with a place to go, or artisans with talent. There are many more that couldn’t leave. Those who have stayed behind have assembled here along Bricklayer Street in the narrow slums—packed in like livestock. Go for a walk on the other roads and you’ll notice the difference right away. There are great mansions and roomy stores, all owned by ankha. Every morning the non-ankha leave their cramped, inconvenient, dusty shacks for their dreary jobs. Of course, nobody can get any decent work around here. There are no permanent positions for anyone but ankha in Lyris. So of course the non-ankha are all poor.”
“It’s a vicious cycle,” Elza said, bitterly.
“Does this prejudice against non-ankha have anything to do with faith in the Old God?” Wataru asked. Elza and Toni looked at each other.
“What do you know about the Old God?” They all looked at him.
“Um…Kee Keema told me about him.”
All eyes turned to the waterkin who quickly repeated the explanation he had given Wataru.
“So there’s some even in Gasara then.”
“Yes, but nothing is all that clear in Gasara. Everyone is wary of the Old God believers. We don’t trust anything that has something to do with the Northern Empire.”
Elza nodded. “Sometimes I fear that we’ve become like the Empire, detaining non-ankha just because of their race, and even killing them. Of course, it’s on a smaller scale, but the things that are happening are the same…”
“I can’t discount the influence of this belief in the Old God, but Lyris has never provided a warm welcome for non-ankha. I can’t figure out what the cause might have been. The first settlers came here one hundred and fifty years ago, and just like settlers elsewhere, they were of mixed races,” Toni told them. “Things only changed when the mines were discovered in the mountains around the city. To reach the mines, you have to dig deep into the ground. The beastkin, with their strong bodies and constitutions, were perfect for the job. At the same time, the nimble-fingered ankha were the best at crafting the stones they unearthed. That’s how the division of labor came about.”
“And Lyris became a crafting town,” Meena said. “What happened to the mines? Are there non-ankha—beastkin—working there still?”
Toni shook his head. “The veins were depleted about eighty years after their discovery, and the mines closed. They weren’t that large to begin with, really. Now and again somebody will find a fragment of precious metal, or gem, but nothing in salable amounts. Most of the jewels that are fashioned in Lyris now are imported from Arikita.”
Of Lyris’s past, only the ankha rule remained.
“So these jewels from Arikita…the shipping guild brings them in?” Kee Keema asked.
“That’s right. Of course, the guild is just as prejudiced as the rest of town. They would never let a waterkin darbaba driver set foot in our borders.”
“It’s not just us waterkin you know, there are some ankha drivers as well…” Kee Keema said, then snorted. “I see how it is, anyway. I always thought the guild monopoly on shipping to Lyris was a little odd.”
“Not many people from the outside know what it’s like here in Lyris,” Elza said, sadly hanging her head. Her long black hair flowed down one shoulder. “Only ankha are interested in learning our craft. And, frankly, there’s really no other reason to come here. Very few people come and go.”
“But, what I don’t get is,” Kee Keema said, “if Branch Chief Pam is so prejudiced, why didn’t he frown when he saw me and Meena walk in?”
Meena’s tail twitched side to side, echoing Kee Keema’s question.
“That’s because you’re Highlanders from outside. If he was too open about it, the Gasara branch might get angry.”
It did sound like the sort of thing that would get Kutz’s whip cracking.
“Well, I don’t know if such a deep-rooted thing can be fixed, but surely it’s a problem if we have Highlanders supporting this kind of activity. Has anyone thought of speaking to the high chief of the Bog branches?”
Toni turned to Wataru, fixing him with the same cold stare he had when they first met. “You think we didn’t try?”
“We did. Many times,” Elza continued. “But High Chief Suluka said he didn’t want to get involved. I think he wants to pretend it isn’t happening.”
“No—he is as prejudiced as the rest of them,” Toni spat. “When the United Government formed the Knights of Stengel, there was a big debate about whether to make them mixed like the Highlanders, or to separate companies by race. In the end, they voted on it, and during the referendum, the only Highlander chief who showed support for separating races was Suluka.”
“And the Knights of Stengel are all ankha too, aren’t they,” Wataru said, half to himself. “I don’t see what the point is, separating companies by race.”
“Oh, they think up all manner of reasons. Different-size gear making equipment difficult to manage, or the value of grouping people with similar customs together.” It was clear from how he spoke that Toni’s rage hadn’t cooled down in the slightest. “Whatever the reason, once you separate people by race, you end up giving them different duties. In fact, when the Knights of Stengel were first formed, some non-ankha rode with them. Now they wander without armor or helms, helping repair towns hit by disaster, or building roads through the mountains. When people say the Knights of Stengel, they only think about the ankha riding in their silvery armor. All the other Knights are forgotten.”
“Well, I’ll say one thing,” Kee Keema snorted. “I don’t feel like lingering here longer than we have to. You know what I mean, Meena?”
Meena sat deep in thought, her tail twitching.
“Haven’t you ever thought to leave town, Mr. Fanlon?” Wataru asked. Toni and Elza looked at each other again.
“How could he leave Elza behind?” Meena answered for them.
“But, well, they could always elope?” Wataru suggested.
Elza looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I would go with Toni. But I cannot leave my father. I want to help them, if I can. To change him—he wasn’t like this when he was younger, I’m sure of it.”
“What changed him?”
“I think it was something that happened seven or eight years ago. My mother died of illness…” said Elza. “That’s when he became passionately involved with the church—I think because he was lonely. You know, the cathedral with the great bell tower.”
“But isn’t that a church to the Goddess?”
“It is, but—well, it’s a long story. Nothing is quite that simple in Lyris. There are some who say the cathedral was built to worship the spirits that created the beautiful jewels and gemstones we use in our craft.”
It occurred to Wataru that there hadn’t been a cathedral of any kind in Gasara, save Cactus Vira’s cursed ruins.
“The teachings of the Goddess are very simple,” Elza said, sitting upright, her voice like a song. “You who fill the land with your life, be compassionate, help one another, flourish, and gather to the light.”
“What, that’s it?”
“That’s it. Those are the basics, anyway. There are a few precepts that go with the teachings, though. Like you’re not supposed to create an image of the Goddess, nor build grand places of worship to her. Those two things are strictly forbidden. That’s why, no matter which town you go to, you’ll find many books written about the Goddess’s teachings, and you’ll hear people singing songs to her praise in the town squares, and you may even see a procession of the faithful. There are gathering places for these times, of course, but no chapels, no cathedrals. Only in Lyris.”
That made it sound like the cathedral with the great bell tower wasn’t built in honor of the Goddess but in defiance of her. It struck Wataru as extremely odd.
“I think my father began going to the cathedral, and he met someone there who put those ideas into his head.”
Wataru knew where he had to go next.