Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

6.6 Gwinael

Gwinael woke up with a headache, probably from dehydration or stress and fear or whatever. Blood pounded right into the sides of her forehead. She had no idea how long she had slept. The door of her room opened immediately, and the rebel showed up again, alone, smiling. She sat up in bed.
"You wish to return to your homeland, do you not?"
Was this a trick of some kind? "Of course I do." voice full of trepidation. The woman fiddled with a metal chain around her neck.
"There's no reason you cannot."
This was definitely a trick. It made no sense.
"Usually captives are killed, aren't they?"
The woman raised her eyebrows, seemed surprised. "That's what you've been thinking? I never would have guessed. But yes, sometimes that happens."
Gwinael looked at her captor, "I don't know what you are up to, but I can't help you."
The woman did not answer for some time.
"Do you know who I am? Why I am here?"
"Not really," Gwinael shrugged, raised her hands up and then let them fall back down to the bed.
"Let me tell you what I want. And then you can decide if you want to help. And just so you know, we can make your stay rather more, how shall i put it? uncomfortable. You understand?"
Gwinael have a slight nod, she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. The woman clasped her hands behind her back and moved away, pacing the length of the bed, then turned to face Gwinael, who had started to massage her painful temples.
"I know what you Tainish say about us Cassioni. That we are savage, barbarian. But a lot of us say the same about you too. It's all silly." She took in a breath, resuming her pacing up and down. "What isn't silly is that you Tainish, and not only the Tainish, but the Murcians, Petroviese, Fuchsjaegerlanders, and more in Havenhearth, all think that Cassion is open for occupation. And that we need your engineers for construction or your scholars for teach us something, or worst of all, your spiritualists." She turned and faced Gwinael, staring her dead in the eyes, "we need none of it. Your literature however, we can use. Your mystery is especially good. I have learned an enormous amount of the Tainish character through your literature. Your writers perhaps reveal too much of your character. Brave, polite, proud, chivalrous. Except something happens to you Tainish when you are not dealing with your own. That last one, chivalry, gets thrown away entirely. Then you become prejudiced, biased. Your pride extends beyond everything else. And you fight for your land, but you do so blindly. You do not know why I am here, why you are here. Do they matter to you? They should. You should not follow orders blindly, for you do not know who is right." She slumped down into the chair, as if her own lecture exhausted her. "But I know, Snowberry and I will tell you. It is never the legation or the ascendancy that knows best. It is you, the combattant, or the ones that work in the fields. It is the ones that toil and strain and work. These are the ones who know what the land should fight for and these are the ones that should be making the rules. But Havenhearth society does not work like that. Does it?" Gwinael was listening as intently as she could, but it was hard to follow the rambling with a blacksmiths hammer leaving it's mark on her skull with every word this woman spoke. "But that is what we want. The people of Cassion, the real people, to have power. And no one else."
"Then why have you rebelled against the chancellor, the Cassioni protectorate?" Gwinael asked, still struggling to understand. The woman laughed. "Still You do not understand?"
"I rebel because you are here."
"Me?"
"You, your mother, your protectorate, and those of other lands too. Those that are not Cassioni. Or Cassioni that are friendly with your ascendancy. Those that wish you here. I do not wish you harm, Snowberry. Honestly, I wish none of you harm, but I, and all of my followers, and we are many, want you gone. Only I can set Cassion free." She inhaled deeply. "Now do you understand?"
"I understand that you see openness, mobility, cooperation, progress as unwelcome, things to be feared." Gwinael said, guardedly.
"No you do not understand. I love my land, I love Cassion, and I love it so much that I want to set it free. And it can only be free if it is able to conduct its own affairs, without any threat from other lands. It is very simple and I am certain that your people would be resentful of Cassioni there, building roads, making friends with ascendancy. Whatever. We also are brave, polite, proud and chivalrous, but it is simply different to your version of those things, not a lesser version, something which you cannot accept." Gwinael saw only hypocrisy in what this woman was saying. She wanted the Tainish to understand better the Cassioni, but she was not willing to understand the Tainish: she just felt hatred towards them, wishing them out.
"Do you have any family?" was all she could think of to say in response, the woman crunched up her forehead. "Do you enjoy eating and drinking with them? Do you feel happiness, sadness? Because I do." She bowed her head, "Why is it right for you to hate everything non-Cassioni but wrong for Tainish to call you savage? But it doesn't matter what I think about these things so why are you telling me all this?"
"As I said before, I seek your help. Allow me to explain. I need to meet your mother. To speak to her. To explain our position. I need you to deliver the message to her. Now you see?"
"You want me to deliver a note to my mother that says you want to meet with her?" Gwinael couldn't see any problem with doing such a thing. The woman nodded. "And if I do so, you will release me and all captured Tainish?"
"Let me elaborate," she said slowly. "The chancellor of Angounesse, do you know her?" Gwinael shook her head. "Well she, and your mother does not know this, has agreed to pull her protectorate out of Chevelles. To give the town to the Golden Defenders. And to leave us to do as we please with the foreigners. She will not do this if the Tainish leave. If the Tainish stay, then she must continue to fight with them against the Golden Defenders or risk trouble with the ascendancy in Nordmontline and beyond. If the Tainish leave Chevelles, then this conflict is over. Everyone is assured peace. And nobody will get hurt. Snowberry, I need you to convince your mother to pull out. And then you and your friends, you will all be released." Gwinael laughed, because of how ridiculous the idea of her convincing her mother of anything was, but her mind was racing through different scenarios. What happens if she agreed and then actually succeeded? What would that mean for the Tainish. What if she Agreed and then failed? Refused? Was the woman telling the truth? What if she was lying? Was there any harm or risk in trying? Gwinael could not figure it out- this was all beyond her. "Me? You think I will be able to convince my mother of something? You shouldn't have wasted your time explaining all of this to me if that is your plan. She would not even meet with me to hear the story."
"Then allow me to further explain, once again. The Fuchsjaegerlanders are on their way here. And if I require it, they will join my fight against the Tainish. And if required, the Petroviese after that. Do you understand what that means?" Gwinael felt her face turn white-  she did understand, and it scared her. The Tainish were not prepared to face the Fuchsjaegerlanders, let alone the Petroviese.
"I need your decision. And do note that if it does not come soon, or if it is not in my favour, your friends will have a particularly uncomfortable time." Gwinael thought of Andri and Brownwarren in the dungeon. She had no idea how much time it had been or what the rebel leader was referring to, but it made her feel scared, as the woman intended it to she was certain. "May I return to them?" The woman ignored the request.
"The outcome of this conflict lies in your hands now Gwinael Snowberry." She stood up quickly, walked over to the door, "I will return for your answer soon." She said before slipping out. Gwinael dropped her head back onto her pillow, her temples throbbing more than ever. The limited light that trickled in through the window showed her reflection in the looking glass on the ceiling, showed back to her a ghostlike version of herself. Her hair a pool of darkness framing an ivory oval which was her face. She felt sick with the weight of the decision she had to make, not understanding what any of it meant or the consequences of what she was thinking of doing. Although it seemed an easy one, she should at least try to convince her mother, she was certain that this would cause harm she could not foresee. She could not sleep, though fatigue and pain begged her to. She thought she heard agonised screams, shouts for help, cries of pain, amidst sounds of battle, but it couldn't have been, there was no battle, she must have been dreaming. She thought of Andri and the others, trying to mentally send them the physical comfort she was currently experiencing, regretting her situation. Brownwarren was no doubt so angry about the preferential treatment. Finally she stood up out of bed, despite the complaints from her head. She paced the room restlessly, wondering how much time she had to decide, wondering when the woman would return. A scratching at the wall. She stopped her pacing to listen. Rats? Were there rats in the room? The scratching again and a soft, female voice. "Hello? Is anyone there?"