Before the River Stops Again

TEACHINGS FROM THE NATION'S FATHER

"Executions go over best in the evening." The nation's leader told his daughters in his practiced didactic tone. "That little while after the day's work has ended but the sun is still drifting towards the horizon, that is the best and most valuable time for these things."

Siva had heard the advice so many times before, she didn't even feign any interest. But glancing at Inara, she could see that her little sister was at full attention to hear their father's advice on statecraft.

"Daytime executions are more difficult to pull off. If you have to perform one, keep two things in mind. You'll need to use your most skilled spokesmaster and to be sure to keep a very wide berth between your audience and the scaffold. Without the evening to soften out the details, daytime performances can sometimes make a crowd more squeamish than you want. When justice and death intersect, they stay better as abstractions, and most preferably in firelight and moonshine."

Siva liked the practicality of these lessons. She enjoyed working out the logistics of the contradictions that arose in trying to unite and lead such a young country, but she'd heard this speech and played this part several times. Now she was hungry for something new.

"The men that we sentence tonight cannot be your spectators' main focus," their father continued. "You need to keep the crowd focused on the enemy. Not the prisoners themselves, they are ciphers that fill in for the idea of the enemy. Inara how are you feeling at the moment?"

Inara still went moony-eyed and inspired by their fathers words. "I'm encouraged in knowing the service that we're doing for our nation and ready to do my part for the cause," she said with earnest. Inara had heard these sort of talks almost as much as Siva, but they still seemed to energize her. Siva almost envied her little sister for not being as jaded as she was.

"Tonight we will be sending several individuals to their deaths, and it is paramount that you fully understand what that means. So I want you both to look our captors in the eyes and see that while we are doing something ugly and terrible, that-"

"That we are doing it for the good of our greater Akanta." Inara finished their father's oft-stated sentiment. 

For a short moment, a look Siva rarely saw in the man came briefly across his face and then vanished. He was incredibly skilled at holding his expressive. "That's right, we do these things for the good of our nation."

Oramé led his daughters into the next room. On the other side of the threshold were two guards in shabby uniforms and poor lighting.

Siva adjusted her glasses and stepped soundlessly toward the prisoners. Three men and a woman were slouched against the wall in cast-iron shackles clasped around their ankles. Another batch from the dwindling group of guerrilla fighters. All of them looked worn out with dirty hair and thin frames. She could also see that two of them had a long pattern of tattoos that ran from their left wrist and snaked under their sleeves. Three of them had their eyes closed and showed the regular breathing of sleep.

They wore the grey rags and copper manacles normally given to political prisoners. They had the gaunt figures that normally came with hard months deprived from consistent nourishment and only the misremembered idea of safety. 

Since the nation's independence was finally recognized, infighting across the five regions of Kolova quickly become commonplace. With the common enemy gone, a patchwork of rebelling factions and extremists movements and religious sects had sprouted up like bad mushrooms across the country. Some lasted only a few months, many gave up or were absorbed by other factions. Oramé had used his diplomat's tongue and best maneuvering to incorporate the most of the rogue groups into the fold of the Akantan state. For other groups, he had used the army. As successful as he'd been, there still several hold-outs set on arranging minor catastrophes and calling for radical ideas. Among them, the army had captured this poor lot. War prisoners who knew things were taken to the Justice Building. Captured grunts were only useful for the pewas.

Siva looked down at the only man who was still conscious. Each prisoner had a tin cup for water and his was empty.

"Would you like any more to drink?" She asked calmly in her native Koleva.

The man looked up at her with a hard defiance in his eyes. He said nothing and simply stared at her. He was different from most people she had seen in Akanta. His high cheek bones and the tattoos gave him away as Zoman. The tribe without lands. Siva wondered if he could even speak Koleva.

In an instant Inara was on the other side of the room, energized with a minor fury. Siva could see a small shake building up in her little sister's arms.

"She asked you a question." Inara's voiced slammed against the walls. Siva was disappointed at how easy the small act of not-responding had gotten under her sister's skin.

The man moved his haughty gaze from Siva to Inara, and without relinquishing a word, he held a long stare. Siva glanced back at their father, trying to figure out what this was meant to do.

Siva could see sister's arm give the smallest shake. State customs dictated that once making their confession, a prisoner should come to no harm. She knew Inara's body language well enough to know that she wanted to smash something heavy against the prisoner's face. Siva had only recently learned to clear away the same instinct. Now she was learning to save her hate for when it counted. She put a hand on Siva's wrist.

"Water?" Siva asked, but the man kept his silence.

She asked a guard to fetch some water and then crotched down to be at an even level with the extremist. She stared into the man's eyes. Even with his limbs in chains, his eyes looked so confident, so full of determination.  She wondered how he could hold so much strength in such circumstances.

"More water soon."

"Why are you wasting your time on this trash?" Inara asked.

She ignored the question. If she had had the opportunity, she was sure that she could have learned a lot from this man. He had probably lived through hardship she couldn't imagine and knew secrets about the land that could be invaluable. How to stay alive in the rough terrain of hinterlands, how to live off the land and still fight an army, and how to do it all while avoiding the heshoka that lived there.

The guard returned with a jug of cold water. She took the Zoman's cup and poured cool liquid into it and set it down next to the prisoner.

She noticed that two of the other's were now awake. She did the same with their cups. Filling them with water and setting them beside their owners.

The silent man looked at the other two and said something with his eyes. None of them touched their cups. Siva understood and asked the guard for one. When he returned, Siva filled hers with the same water and drank from it.

The first Zoman took a short sip at his water and swallowed. He signaled to the other two and they did the same. The man's expression changed only slightly.

"Ashk'ali" he said in a voice so low Siva almost didn't hear it.

Siva looked at her sister and father. Inara looked annoyed, but her father's lips were curled up just enough to understood.

"We should go now, girls. You both need to get ready for the festival." He said. Especially you, Inara."

Her sister looked hopeful.

"Tonight I will introduce the criminals, and Inara, I want you to announce the sentencing."

Inara's eyes became even wider at the request. Siva watched as nervousness and excitement clashed for dominance over her sister's expression and coalesced into a fervent energy. Inara had wanted this for a long time and now her day had finally come.

Siva had seen the decision coming for weeks now. She had announced the sentencing herself several times before, but had knew she the lacked the right stage presence and comfort with an audience to do much more than a serviceable job. Maybe her sister could make more out of it.

On the other side of the door were two monks dressed in muted green and earth brown. No doubt here to give the terrorists their last rites.

When they were away from their father, her sister proceeding to become intolerable. She bragged about how well she would perform at the festival and asked why Siva had wasted her time showing hospitality to savages like them. She wanted her sister to understand that she had learned several things about their enemies from the interaction about their shrewd nature and the lack of a common language, but Inara had been a brat all day, so Siva remained silent and kept her new knowledge to herself.