Preserving Hope Read online

  Bedlam erupted, as the fifty adults all shouted in unison, demanding to know the answer. Will, suspicious and concerned, reached out to Roland with Energy, and found to his surprise that the man did have some very rudimentary Energy capabilities, enough to perform telepathy and empathy, but no more.

  It seems he’s telling the truth, he projected to Elizabeth.

  She didn’t respond, and he caught sight of her face. She seemed paler than usual. Elizabeth was worried, and he could just pick up a flicker of a thought from her. He knows.

  Roland held up his hand. “We may have been told of this root before, and it’s even possible we’ve tested it. But unless things have changed during my absence, we have not tested any plant or root or berry or any other substance over an extended time period. This is the key. The development is subtle, and takes patience and perseverance before results come, but they do come.” Roland reached into a bag at his feet, and pulled out a craggy mass of plant roots. “The secret key to the abilities we’ve sought for so long. I give you… the root of the zirple plant!”

  The crowd pressed in on him, everyone eager to get their hands on the zirple root. “I have gotten seeds as well. We can grow and tend these plants to ensure we have a constant supply; they do require a damp environment to grow, and so our improved water situation will help in that regard.” Roland handed out roots to each member of the community, starting with Arthur. Will glanced at Elizabeth, and she slowly turned to face him. He needed no empathy skill, whether formed by the root of a zirple plant or the nano-based concoction fed to him in the distant future, to know what her face meant.

  This plant was indeed part of the concoction she’d been using for over a decade to develop her abilities. And with this revelation from Roland the Traveler, her usefulness to her father, and this community, was coming to an end. Though her will to live had long been fading due to the maltreatment by her father, she still held out some hope that her situation would improve. She’d long feared that a discovery of this nature would result in Arthur discarding her, for she’d no longer be of any use to him.

  The look on her face said she doubted his severing of ties with his only daughter would be pleasant — or far off.

  XVI

  Fear

  Autumn dawned, and the villagers banded together as they had done while building the Wheel, this time focusing their collective efforts on getting an initial zirple crop planted and harvested before the grounds froze with the onset of winter. They wouldn’t be able to grow enough to both last the winter and provide enough for everyone to get the required dosage. That meant that they’d need to ration the usage of the root in some fashion.

  They had established upon Roland’s return that the initial roots supplied to each villager were a gift, his thanks for the funds each of them had provided prior to the Traveler’s departure. Will learned that Travelers were provided basic funds by each member of the community to enable them to make the initial leg of their journey; thereafter, they were on their own, and needed to earn money to survive and purchase anything they found that might progress them toward their goals. In the initial journey taken by Arthur, Genevieve, and Eva’s brother, the product had been freely given since there was so much that needed to be tested. As such, the products had been considered community property, and were stored in the Schola. They’d agreed after that first journey that, since Travelers had to earn the money to survive as well as purchase anything they brought back, that such purchases were the property of the Traveler until they agreed to sell or give away what they’d brought back. Most Travelers accepted large payments collected from all of the villagers for the right to use or test what they’d brought back.

  That, of course, added to the general anger over the lack of progress on unlocking the secret combination of supposedly-magical substances that would unlock the mythical abilities extolled by Arthur. People felt they’d gotten no payback for their initial investment in the Travelers, or for the group purchase of the substances they’d been led to believe would develop such abilities. That anger was directed at the child who’d had no part in deciding to send Travelers out into the world, or to fund the purchase of the various foodstuffs she’d be forced against her will to test for everyone. Arthur, who never owned any products sold back to the community, nevertheless collected a steady income, which had surged historically with each Traveler’s return.

  Now, however, a Traveler had returned with proof such abilities existed. He’d read the minds of any who tried to trick him, and all had come away convinced, for the first time in years, that their patience was to be rewarded. They no longer needed to pay to have Elizabeth try out various combinations and concoctions without success. Roland had been given the secret, tested it, and brought the product back. The products in the Schola were rendered worthless, as was Elizabeth’s unique “service” to the community.

  Roland was thus in a unique position of power upon his return and demonstration, and that became evident as they determined how to distribute the harvested roots. Technically, he’d granted the villagers the right to grow the crop using his seeds, but the output of those seeds still belonged to Roland. There were large offers of gold for the rights to the roots, seeds, and byproducts, but in the end, Arthur’s offer was the one Roland accepted.

  Roland would get his necessary daily allocation of the root. Arthur would handle the distribution of any remaining product, which he would sell at his discretion. Roland would receive a portion of the money Arthur received for as long as the two men elected to maintain the agreement.

  It solved several problems for Arthur. He would still be seen as the one who enabled the villagers to develop the mythical abilities he’d long proclaimed; he’d have a steady source of income; and he’d be in a position of power as the distributor of the root. The scarcity through the autumn and winter worked to his advantage. Will suspected that the scarcity would continue regardless of how much the farmers actually harvested.

  Rather than set a price, or even allow the highest bidder to purchase the root on a daily basis, Arthur established a form of a lottery, with a chance at getting drawn selling for one copper coin. Arthur noted that he would draw unique names each day until the product allocated for the day was exhausted. The remaining chances would be burned, and Arthur would repeat the process again the next day. One of the carpenters, a man named Wright, benefitted from this system, for it was Wright who’d figured out the process to create the thin slivers of wood Eva used to track everything related to Trading missions. Arthur would use the same product to track the zirple chances purchased each day. Lottery participants would write their name on a separate sliver for each chance purchased. Given the predictable popularity, Wright made a small fortune selling the product to Arthur at the rate of a copper per ten slivers. It became his full time job.

  It was no surprise to Will when Arthur’s daily zirple supply didn’t include enough for everyone; if there was an ample supply each day, people would only buy one chance, or question why they needed a lottery at all. The scarcity drove up the purchases of lottery chances, as people tried to ensure they were one of the ones winning each drawing by purchasing multiple chances. Of course, it didn’t escape Will’s notice that the winners rarely included any Traders, but Maynard won each day. Three people never won a daily supply of zirple: Eva, Will, and Elizabeth. They weren’t concerned, as all three had already developed Energy skills, and yet as the results of the lottery became noticed, the three became minor outcasts. Clearly, it was reasoned, a greater power had deemed them unworthy. Will found this amusing; the so-called greater power was Arthur removing the chances bearing their names, and likely removing all but one chance for each of the other Traders, before conducting the drawing. Arthur had a box he used to store the chances which he kept in his room overnight before conducting the drawings each morning. Will considered teleporting out all of the chances and sending back only those with Trader names, but decided that might raise some suspicions about hidden abilities
or, at a minimum, potential thieves in the village. He suspected thieves wouldn’t receive as punishment mere slap on the wrist.

  Elizabeth found herself hired — directly, now — by some lottery winners to prepare the daily zirple root mix, as the process was both complex and time-consuming. She’d spend most days at the newly-constructed zirple Store, working directly with Roland. The root had to be boiled to raise the temperature, charred on the outside, and then ground down by hand with a specific type of rock into a fine powder. The resulting measure, roughly the equivalent to two tablespoons, would be taken mixed with water. The taste was highly unpleasant, though Elizabeth confided that zirple wasn’t close to being the worst-tasting substance she’d tried. In the early days, Elizabeth spent much of her time after delivering the mixture caring for nauseated victims. None of the honored winners complained much, however, for their success in developing their “magic” was assured.

  None thanked Elizabeth for her dozen years of testing everything else without any guarantee of success, or even survival. She instead received a great deal of scorn from daily lottery losers, who noted that if she’d found the zirple root earlier, they’d have enough for everyone by now. In their frustration of falling behind in the race to develop the enhanced abilities, more than one lottery loser physically lashed out at Elizabeth.

  Will made certain that no one used that outlet for their frustration more than once.

  Elizabeth’s gloom intensified, for the current state of affairs showed that her plan, her efforts to get her neighbors to see the errors of their ways, had failed. They had achieved what they sought: the answer to the question of how to develop these mythical abilities, and none of them had paid any price save for a decade-long delay in learning the correct process, and the forfeiture of some of their money. While they’d waited, they hadn’t suffered; they’d gained their respective freedom, developed advanced skills in various crafts and professions, and without exception had amassed appreciable wealth. In the interim, those former slaves and servants had enslaved one of their own; those forced to perform deadly and dangerous tasks took delight in inflicting the same on the weakest among them; those horrified years ago at their own poor health and mortality ignored how their actions lessened both the health and life span of their youngest neighbor. And those attitudes were shaped and encouraged by Elizabeth’s own father. To Arthur, all action revolved around consolidating his own power over this neighborhood and growing his own wealth. Elizabeth had served her purpose; Roland and his zirple were his source of power now.

  Elizabeth knew what that meant for her, as her abilities, like Will’s, enabled her to read the man’s true beliefs and feelings as it related to her, feelings he allowed greater expression now that he had his financial and power apparatus back in place. What both Will and Elizabeth found in the man’s thoughts and feelings suggested that Elizabeth’s fears all along were well justified. Arthur’s sole regret in relation to his daughter was that he’d not attempted to marry Elizabeth off in exchange for a large dowry, preferably to a potentially powerful ally like Maynard. There was no thought to her suffering, no regret for the pain he’d enabled in her life, no concern about the complete lack of love and paternal instinct he’d directed her way. Arthur had determined that the men of the community did not see Elizabeth as marriage potential, but as a servant girl. His chance to derive a final financial return on her was gone, and as such he gave her no further thought.

  Will was sickened. Elizabeth was devastated. She’d wanted her father to reform, to show the love a father should show to his little girl, to act as her protector. Instead, he’d been revealed as a monster, a man incapable of the love and self-sacrifice required of those serving as parents. Will was thankful that she’d moved to her own room, for seeing Arthur served only to further depress her already shattered morale.

  Her only consolation was that Arthur relented on his rule forbidding her to go outside the walls of the community for anything other than community-wide activities such as the morning bath in the calm waters of the Halwende River. With demands for her hired help diminishing, she had sufficient time and need to choose a profession. None of the professions seemed interested in bringing her on board, except for the Traders, the group that had taken an interest in Elizabeth when no one else bothered.

  Arthur laughed at Eva’s suggestion that Elizabeth become a Trader, a suggestion made as the spring months beckoned and the snows melted away. “She’s not capable of Trading, Eva. She stammers and looks at the ground and generally speaking makes a public fool of herself. Bringing her along is likely to ruin the profit you Traders make, and worse, the profits for the rest of us.”

  “She will learn, and I dare say she’ll make a fine Trader in short order,” Eva replied. She narrowed her eyes at Arthur. “It will give her the opportunity to make her own money as well.”

  Arthur snorted. “That idiot girl will likely spend it on trinkets and trivial items, wasting what little money she will actually earn.” He waved them off. “You’ve been warned. If you wish to continue with this foolish fantasy, go ahead and waste your time with her. As for me, I’m waiting to experience these new abilities from my zirple consumption.”

  Will arched an eyebrow. “How long have you taken it?”

  “Three months. I can feel something changing already. It won’t be long now.” He rubbed his hands together, his grin like an ice pick to the heart. Will attempted to avoid laughter. It was true — Arthur had developed a trace of Energy. But if it had taken three months to reach that trace, he wouldn’t be able to cause damage for decades, assuming he lived that long.

  Which, sadly, he most certainly would.

  Will nodded. He’d declined to enter the lottery for the zirple, with the excuse that he wanted longer-term residents of the community to have the first chance at the benefits they’d so long coveted. Speaking of which…

  “I’m assuming that Elizabeth, as well as Eva and the Traders, will start to receive their allotment of zirple soon? The first crops are being harvested now, and there should be sufficient quantities for everyone.”

  Arthur looked at him, and Will knew the answer before it was given. “Crop harvests are erratic and spoilage often occurs. As such, we will continue to have drawings for daily rations until such time as we are able to predict with confidence the size of the usable crop. The best I can tell you, Will, is that their allocations will depend on when their names are drawn and the success of the crop.” His thoughts betrayed what Will already suspected, that the drawing had been rigged. Arthur and Roland, of course, always received their share, and Maynard heard his name called every day. The Traders remained highly infrequent winners in the lottery, and both Eleanor and Gerald had been heard grumbling about switching professions as a result. It was lost on no one that the drawings were rigged. Given that most villagers won on a daily basis now, however, they had no reason to complain about the obvious maltreatment of their neighbors.

  Though the numbers were certainly unequal, the village was clearly dividing itself. A small handful were intent on developing their professional skills and creating higher quality and greater quantities of goods for sale and trading those at the greatest possible profit. With the arrival of Roland and his alliance with Arthur, the greater portion of the community was now riveted by the possibilities the zirple root provided, and as such they once again followed Arthur’s lead without question. They knew the lottery was, to some degree, a charade, and that any that Arthur favored — like Maynard — would win, regardless of the number of chances they purchased. Yet they participated and curried his favor to ensure that they’d hear their name called each day. Arthur’s licensing deal with Roland had been a stroke of genius.

  Will shrugged. “I’m taking a walk outside the walls, then, and seeing how the harvest is progressing. Elizabeth, would you like to join me?” He walked away, and was aware that Elizabeth hurried after him a few seconds later. The two headed for the gate, and Will could feel Arthur’s eyes borin
g into him as the man’s thoughts hammered in to Will’s mind. Arthur was suspicious of Will’s motives and successes in Trading, and was jealous of his ability to rally the community to projects like the Wheel in a way Arthur never could.

  Let him wallow in his unhealthy emotions, Will thought.

  Elizabeth, as was her custom, walked with her head down, avoiding eye contact and conversation. Previously, it was something she did to ensure that no one detected her incredible health and vitality by recognizing those “symptoms” through the glow of her eyes. She’d avoided questions that way, questions as to how she’d achieved such health if she was suffering through so many experiments. Today, she walked with her head lowered as the reality of her existence weighed her down.

  They walked beyond the path to the farms, and Elizabeth didn’t even question why they weren’t heading toward the zirple fields. She’d known they’d head to the cave, a place they’d not visited in some time. They walked away from the cave, and when they both sensed there were no eyes spying on them, Will took her arm and teleported the two of them into the cave.

  She sat down on the stone floor and cried.

  Will sat next to her and put an arm over her shoulder, and she leaned in, her tears wetting his shirt. He understood that she needed to grieve, that in so many ways she was now an orphan, losing her mother to a violent death, and her father to his megalomania. Though she’d soon turn nineteen years old, and possessed savvy survival instincts and intelligence, she was in many ways still a child, denied the nurturing so desperately needed as she’d aged from an innocent and happy little girl into a pawn during the always-difficult teen years. She was only too aware that her only living parent believed her existence only mattered when it furthered the man’s own dreams, without regard to hers.