The Land of Broken Roads

It wasn’t a long walk back to the Principia, but word was starting to get around what Dirt had been up to, so eyes followed him everywhere. It seemed to him that most people didn’t recognize him, even though his hair was darker than nearly everyone else’s. He was in their clothes, and hadn’t been when he got here, so that was probably why. And even though the population was far lower than Ogena, there were still hundreds of children here. Too many to keep track of.

He waved and smiled at them as he passed, which gave it away, but he hurried along into the Principia all the same. Once inside, he wondered why the tents were nicer in here, under the ancient roof where it would be dark day and night, like it was now. He understood wanting to have a roof over his head, but it would be like living completely underground. Perhaps they liked it because it kept the rain off. So how did they decide who got to live here? He’d have to ask later.

They hadn’t yet replaced the heavy wooden frame that blocked the entrance to the Aedes, fortunately, and Dirt walked right in.

The two old people were standing over the corpse, which had been draped with a cloth, and discussing between each other in hushed tones. They held wet washcloths in their hands and judging by the wooden bucket at their feet and the greatly diminished bloodstain, they had been cleaning. No one else was in here besides them. Dirt suspected that typically, no one was allowed in, and they were the ones who decided. They looked over as he entered and gave him unpleasant glares.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have a quick question for you,” said Dirt. “I know Gnese’s name, but not yours. That’s not the question, though.”

The old man’s face stayed cold, but he answered. “Fidelu.”

“Fidelu. That’s another old name. Huh. Thanks. Well, the question is, you know how Socks can see your thoughts, and that’s how you were talking to him at first? What would happen if a human in your tribe suddenly learned how to do that? Hear people’s thoughts,” said Dirt. He stood awkwardly, not sure what posture he should take. He landed somewhere between friendly and dignified, he hoped.

The answer was not quick in coming. Dirt watched as they thought it over, glaring at him all the while. They glanced at each other, then back at Dirt.

“What are you saying?” said Gnese, carefully.

Dirt’s eyes went to the uncovered treasury. The corpse dust in front of it had already been swept up and disposed of. Melodia herself stood suffering, just as she’d been before.

He hadn’t spent much time thinking over what he’d seen in their minds earlier. That man they killed and threw in there, and the guilt they felt about it all these years later. The fear that memory still caused them. Dirt had just observed the killing as a thing that had happened, and assumed there must have been a good reason. But that wasn’t necessarily the case, was it? Humans didn’t kill each other very often, did they? The word for that was murder.

Dirt’s lack of a quick answer made them both grow more hostile in the set of their shoulders. Their faces hardened, but the sense Dirt got was more of fear than anger. He wondered if he should find their minds; it wouldn’t be too difficult. But that might give away something he wasn’t ready to reveal yet.

“What am I saying? I was just thinking about it,” said Dirt, trying to sound oblivious. “I’m curious what would happen if a normal human, just some random person, suddenly started to know everyone’s thoughts. I’m asking you because you’re the elders so you must know the most. So how would they be treated? What would happen to them?”

“That person would never be trusted,” said Fidelu hastily.

“Why not? It can be really handy, if, for example, you want to know why a baby is crying. Wouldn’t people be happy?” asked Dirt.

“That would be useful, but there’s more to it than that,” said Gnese.

“Like what?” asked Dirt. He’d expected this, honestly, but it was still disappointing. Humans were naturally wary and skittish, but he’d been hoping for a different reaction.

Fidelu got his wariness under control and let his face and posture smooth out into something more grandfatherly. He stepped a little closer to Dirt and put on a warmer half-smile. “My boy, have you ever made a mistake?” he asked.

“Sure, probably. Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter what. But as you grow, you will find yourself making more and more of them. Some will be big mistakes, and some will be small. Let me explain it this way. That wolf is your only friend, right?” asked Fidelu.

Gnese had picked up on the change of tone and lost all the harshness in her demeanor as well. Dirt did his best not to let on he knew they were putting on airs, since he was interested in their explanation.

“No, he’s not my only friend at all. I have a bunch of friends that are trees, and some humans. My best human friend is Màxim, the Duke’s son from Ogena,” said Dirt.

“Fine. Good. So imagine that one day, you got angry with Màxim and said something cruel to him. Something truly unacceptable, and then, because you are human and we all make mistakes, you didn’t apologize. And it got worse and worse, until you weren’t friends anymore. Now, I’m sure that won’t happen, but imagine with me for a moment, hmm?” said Fidelu.

“Okay,” said Dirt.

“You have done something that he will not forgive, and now you are no longer friends. You regret what you did, and you know it was your fault, but it is too late,” said Fidelu.

Even though the situation was imaginary and extremely unlikely, Dirt found himself bothered by it. He briefly pictured an angry Màxim telling Dirt never to talk to him again and didn’t like it. Dirt had to admit they were good at teaching.

“Now let’s take a step back. Suppose that instead of saying those cruel things, you only thought about saying them. But you realized that it would be horrible to say them and what Màxim would think, so you didn’t. In fact, you didn’t even really mean those things, so you’re glad you didn’t say them,” said Fidelu. “Instead of a disaster and losing a friend, nothing happened.”

“I see,” said Dirt. “So, if Màxim could read my mind, then he’d know what it was I thought about and get offended anyway, even though I didn’t want that to happen.”

“Exactly. There are many things a man wishes to keep hidden, child. Some are mistakes he wishes to move past. Some are things he can never say, but still thinks of. Some are desires he must keep under control, but struggles with. Everyone who has lived long enough has things they don’t want others to know. Even you, I bet. Can you think of anything like that?” asked Fidelu, gesturing with his hand for Dirt to answer.

The first thing that came to Dirt’s mind was that he, Avitus, had broken the world and ruined the gods and sent humanity into an extinction spiral. Everybody didn’t need to know that. “I guess,” he replied.

Gnese said, “Now, imagine there’s one person in the tribe that everyone knows can see all their thoughts. All the things they need to keep hidden. Things that aren’t truly themselves, or things they’re trying to overcome. That one person knows all their secrets. How do you think they’ll be treated? They will always be outcasts, right?”

“Also, they would not want to be close to anyone else. They would know that the others fear them, and they would hear those thoughts that were never meant to be spoken aloud, and be unable to stop knowing them,” said Fidelu.

Dirt nodded, thinking that over. They had a good argument. They were completely wrong about what it would be like to know everyone’s thoughts, but it was their perspective he was after. He suspected they were correct, which is why he’d wanted to make sure before having Socks open someone’s mind-eye.

He’d be creating an outcast. Even if that person was useful, like helping babies. And there were other things, too, like telling the rats in the granary to come out where they could be captured. Or helping a horse calm down. Or knowing there was a half-dead person among the tribe.

If he was honest with himself, Dirt had known before asking what the answer would be. They’d say not to do it, or they’d ask for it to be done to themselves, secretly. He’d intuited from the moment he first met Marina and her party that it was not something others should know.

The elders waited patiently while he thought, and finally he said, “I guess that makes sense. And they’d probably be in danger, too.”

“Yes, they might be. From what?” asked Gnese.

“Say someone did something horrible, like a murder, and they didn’t want anyone to find out about it. But they knew that that person knew. They might want to kill them too, before the secret is revealed,” said Dirt, furrowing his brow to look like a little boy deep in thought.

Both of them faltered for the briefest instant, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but quickly regained their composure. Gnese, however, gave him an intent look, and Dirt knew what she was thinking without even looking at her mind. She was almost certainly thinking something loudly to see his reaction. Perhaps, “Child, can you see my thoughts?” Something like that.

Dirt gave no reaction, of course. They were amateurs. His best friend was Socks, and they wanted to win a thought game?

It made him feel a little guilty to be manipulating them like this. He preferred honesty and forthrightness, and, as he often reminded himself, discipline and sincerity were his true power.

But he doubted this was information they would easily part with. Murder, if that’s what it was, was something that should not be tolerated. He knew the word “justice”, even if he couldn’t say how it should play out. And he also knew the word “execution”, which was what happened to criminals like murderers. Maybe he could get them to let something slip, and it would be exonerating instead of condemnatory.

“I’m not reading your minds, so you can stop looking at me funny. Tell you what. Let’s do a bargain. I’ll answer any one question from you, even if the answer is a secret, and you do the same for me. What do you think?” said Dirt.

“I decline,” said Gnese, without hesitation.

“As do I,” said Fidelu.

That disappointed him. They had something to hide after all. He thought they might want some answers themselves, but all they wanted from him was his departure.

He searched out their minds then, taking only a moment to find them. They were looking at him, after all, so he simply had to find the ones with his face in them. As he thought, they were full of anxiety and leftover terror. They had fear in them that was tied to watching his face, and to his voice. They were afraid of what he’d say.

Dirt made sure to watch so he could get his answer, whether they wanted to give it or not. “Fine. Oh well. Suppose instead that for no reason at all, I just randomly asked you whether you had a good reason for killing that guy and stuffing him in there,” he said.

It wasn’t easy watching both of their minds at the same time—that was one thing he didn’t have much practice with. In Gnese’s mind flashed an image of tendrils creeping through the hole in the roof, of dark whispers and darker fears. In Fidelu’s, envy and lust. He’d wanted to mate with Gnese, and that was related somehow. In both cases, they quickly tried to think of something else.

“Don’t think about it, whatever you do. Don’t think about why you killed him. Stop! Think about something other than why you killed him!” said Dirt, making it impossible. “Aaaahhh, not that! Not why you killed him and stuffed him in there!”

Fidelu and Gnese had a similar idea, that they needed to propitiate the Murderous Lady. For Fidelu, it was an excuse, an opportunity, and for Gnese, a solemn obligation. She was pregnant now and the tribe would be secure. How could she ask anyone else to suffer in her place? How could she make some other woman a widow, or bereft of her child?

In the few seconds before they managed to start thinking of other things, albeit imperfectly, Dirt put the story together, at least in simple fashion. Fidelu had desired Gnese for his mate, and Gnese had known that, but she was already married to Ghjacumu. They had slaughtered him for the Murderous Lady, hoping to calm her curse, and it had worked. Gnese’s nightmares and daydream visions had ceased, and the two of them became a mated pair and married, and raised Ghjacumu’s baby.

“So how’d you get away with it? Why didn’t anyone… Oh, the other Elders covered for you?” asked Dirt, finding the answer in their thoughts. “So they were in on it? I guess they must have told you about it, but hardly anyone else, or people would have checked the treasury the moment Ghjacumu disappeared.”

“Don’t speak that name here,” hissed Gnese.

“What do you want?” asked Fidelu, cold and hard. Hard as Biandina’s mother. From how his mind felt, this was more natural for him than anything else he’d been doing.

“What I want changes all the time. First, I wanted to meet more humans, but you were too scared of me to make friends. Then I wanted Biandina to live safely with her family, but only her siblings want that. Not even her. Now what I want, is… I guess I don’t know. What do I want?” said Dirt.

He pushed past the two of them and they gave him no resistance. He stepped over the dead body without looking at it. He stopped in front of Melodia, Goddess of Song. The Murderous Lady. Which was correct anymore?

Frankly, the whole situation disgusted him. He gathered that the Eye was using the goddess to manipulate humans to their detriment, to whittle them down generation by generation. Fear, mistrust, deception, death. Was it simply toying with them, or had it not made enough horrible monstrosities to annihilate them yet? It’d had three thousand years to work on it, so either it preferred slower methods or was generally incapable of anything else. But still, to manipulate them using something so bright and beautiful as the memory of a goddess?

“Are you still there, Melodia?” he asked, in his language. He didn’t expect an answer, and she gave none. She stared ahead, wounded and dying.

Behind him, Fidelu had picked up the heavy water bucket and was thinking about smashing Dirt’s skull open with it. It was heavy, and the bottom rim would be sharp. He was even trying to hide his thoughts while he debated doing it, the poor fool. Without turning around, Dirt said, “Socks is watching you right now, Fidelu, and even if you managed to hurt me, which you won’t, you’d only outlive me by a heartbeat.”

The message was heard and understood, and the elders struggled to think of what else to do. They wanted Dirt to leave so badly it was going to give them a headache.

Dirt quit watching their minds so he could concentrate and filled himself with mana. He stared up at the statue, old marble still smooth and bright, even if every last trace of the paint was gone. She had been glorious once.

He hadn’t tried this on stone yet, but he knew the sigil for it. There was no reason it shouldn’t work. He used it to shape wood all the time. It didn’t work very well on water, but that was water.

Dirt took the wood-shaping magic the dryads had taught him and replaced the sigil for ‘wood’ with the one for ‘stone.’ After considering a few more changes, like replacing ‘grow’ with ‘reform’, he spoke the magic into existence.

He started with her broken arm, the one twisted the wrong way at the elbow and hanging limp, and by Grace, it worked. The stone lost its solidity and Dirt gently reshaped it. He turned her forearm back the right way, doing his best to make sure it looked right, and did an acceptable job of it. He felt his own elbow to remind himself of the shape of the bones there, and it seemed to match.

Then he made her marble innards suck back up into her stomach. The stone slid upward, losing its shape and becoming just a solid mass, but it was exactly the right amount to fill the cavity. He made the arm that had been holding her intestines extend away a little, then smoothed over her stomach and reshaped it to be a dress again. Fortunately not all of the stone fabric was ruined, which gave him plenty of places to copy, as he filled in all the rips and tears.

He straightened her club foot by making it look like a mirror of the other one, and straightened her posture to balance out.

Finally, he had the confidence to fix her face and get rid of that horrible expression of pain. Despite all his practice making wooden toys, the finer details were beyond him, so he left her expressionless. Still human-looking, but blank. It was good enough. He turned her palms forward in a gesture of welcoming, cleaned up a few other details like the drips of marble blood on the plinth, and then he was done.

The mana left him and he stepped back, careful not to fall into the treasury. He quickly found mistakes, perhaps a dozen of them, but they were all minor. If he wanted to master this, he needed to spend a lot more time wandering around Turicum looking at the statues the dryads had recovered, and get a lot more practice. But despite the flaws, there was no mistaking this for anything other than Melodia. It was not a statue of a tortured, suffering woman any longer. It was an imperious woman in a full-length dress, gazing forward at a horizon only she could see.

Dirt decided that was one detail he wasn’t willing to leave overlooked, so he created the magic again and tilted her head downward slightly, so she’d be looking at the people in the room. Only then did he turn around to see what the elders thought.

They watched in silence, eyes wide, but less amazed than they might have been if they hadn’t seen so much already.

Before anyone spoke, a shadow came over the hole in the roof and plunged the Aedes into darkness. Gnese and Fidelu both cried out in alarm, but Dirt snapped his fingers and summoned a light.

The whole gap was covered in white flesh, the flesh of the Eye and the things that emerged from it. A sinuous tendril drooped down and wound around the corpse on the floor, the one that had once been the half-dead man. It lifted him and the cloth laid over him upward, where he was drawn into its flesh.

Dirt heard motion behind him and spun to see all his work being undone. The statue of the goddess was moving just like a real person, her dress ripping away to expose long gashes that opened on her thighs and chest. She moved an arm forward as if pleading for mercy and it broke at the elbow, the one Dirt had fixed. Her gaze turned down to him, terror and pain coming alive in her marble features, and then she froze again, and fell from the plinth.

-COME, DIRT,- yelled Socks. -COME NOW!-