Metal and Flesh (The Rohvim, Book 1)

17.1 Truth

   

"In the ancient language of our fathers will He address us. He will touch our heads and heal our hearts, speaking to our blood, to the water within our blood."

-Wisdom of Rutha, 9:46

  

PRIAM WIGGLED A BIT, exploring the extent of his bondage. He asked, "So, is it really necessary to keep me tied up?"

   "For now, yes, but you will be released soon. You will be free to return to your friends, if that is your wish. But first, I have more to discuss with you."

   Priam shrugged, a little more confident now in his short term survival. "All right. Go ahead. Wait. You haven't even told me your name."

   The voice answered, "My name is not important. If you must know, it is Yoruth. I have a proposition for you. But first, I see that you are injured. I am a fine healer. Would you give me your permission to enter your mind and offer you comfort?" Puzzled at the offer of healing while still tied up, Priam nevertheless consented, and he felt a hand placed on his head. He closed his eyes.

   Before him in his mind appeared a tall, gaunt, middle aged man. He had a look of kindness about him, and smiled as he appeared. He walked forward, rather gracefully, holding out his hands. "Thank you for receiving me here, Priam." And he grasped the younger man's hand in his and shook it warmly.

   Priam hesitantly responded, "Um ... glad to have you here?" He pulled his hand out of the handshake and walked over to his mind's wall. "So you say you can heal me? What would you say is wrong with me?"

   Yoruth followed him, and examined the lights and dials on the wall. After a minute he responded, "It looks like you've been hit extremely hard on the head. Look here ..." he pointed to the section of the wall governing the mind. Before them lay a bank of hundreds of lights and indicators and switches and knobs, and several of the lights were flashing yellow, with one blaring red.

   Priam pointed to the red one, "What does that mean?!" he shouted.

   "That tells me you have just a few hours of life left."

   Priam's eyes widened.

   "I speak in jest of course. No, that just means that there is a little bleeding inside your skull. Those other lights indicate that the blood has swelled certain portions of your head and are compressing the rohva brain components there. No need to worry, really, the parts in our brains are quite capable of being compressed and knocked around a bit. If it were to happen too much however, that is another matter. Watch. I will show you how to handle a situation like this. The key is to signal to the area of the body that controls blood composition to send enough healing blood to the affected area. I have discovered that blood has many different components to it, one part of which is a substance that patches up tears and holes in flesh. Other components prevent our bones from rusting, some deliver air throughout our body, and some accomplish things that I do not understand. Adjust this one here-the blood composition dial, while simultaneously pressing this button near the affected region ... that's right, a little longer ... there! See?"

   As Priam watched, the red turned to yellow, then green, and when it did, the other yellow lights stopped flashing, and one by one turned to green as well. "Wow. Thank you, I guess."

   Yoruth bowed, "You are welcome, Priam, but I must ask your pardon, for it is because of me that you sustained this injury in the first place. You see, I am an associate of Lord Shiavo."

   Priam's eyes widened once more, and he took a step back from the tall man. Yoruth continued, "It is true. He is a less than savory character, but for now he has his uses. I deplore the results of his actions-the senseless killing, the pain and suffering. But several things are now being accomplished. Tell me, Priam, have you ever felt a little ... put out, by the fact that you are just as talented and capable as your noble friend, and yet all the acclaim, all the attention, all the glory always seems to follow him?"

   Priam opened his mouth in protest, but closed it. He tried again, "But in many ways, Aeden is better than me. His swordsmanship skills are better, though only by a little, and now it seems I have learned rohva sword fighting far quicker than he has ...."

   Yoruth nodded, "Of course you did. You are talented. You work hard. And where has the reward been your whole life, hmm? You struggle, you work, you sweat, you bleed, and the fruits of your labors always seem to go to the nobility. Tell me that is not so!"

   Priam hesitated again, "Well ... ok, sure. We pay a portion of our profits to the lord of the city, and he distributes those among some of the higher families. But they do great good with that money!"

   Yoruth looked skeptical. "Like what?"

   "Well, like, oh, they put on the tournament every year. Let's see, what else do they... oh yeah, they support the priests and the communal house. And they ... well, I'm sure there's more."

   Yoruth shook his head. "No, Priam, I'm afraid there is not more. For all the money that is confiscated, how much of it do you think makes it to the tournament and the priests? Why, I would wager that they could pay for the tournament with what your family alone pays the lord."

   "Well what about the priests? It probably costs a lot to support them!"

   Yoruth nodded, "Yes, of course. It does require much to support them, and yes, they are the guardians of the Chronicles and they hold the feasts and the festivals. But, have you ever thought about what else they do? What do they do? Do they spend their time healing, like the society? No! Do they go out among the people, helping the poor and the widows? No! They sit and interpret the Chronicles and hold their feasts. And what's more, do you know any priests that come from a common family?"

   Priam thought a bit. "No. I don't. It seems they are all invited from the noble families. Just before the invasion, Aeden was invited."

   Yoruth continued, "My point, Priam, is that the body of priests as it stands now, is just another avenue of advancement for the nobility. And do they really need any more advancement? What about you? You have skills, you work hard, but they will never ask you to be in the body of priests. They will never promote you up above the twenty-first level of nobility. You will inherit your father's post as, what was it, guardian of the artifacts or something like that? Is that what you want to do? And if you had brothers or sisters, you would be fighting with them for the same inherited title, and the loser would most likely have to be a farmer or a travelling merchant or the like."

   Priam said nothing.

   "Tell me, Priam, who fought in the battle of Elbeth? How many died? Of the dead, how many were common men and women, sent to die by their overlords, obligated to lift a sword just because they rented land from a lord or sold goods in a shop owned by a lord? How many more good people must suffer, be suppressed, be thrown out of their homes, be overtaxed, be ridiculed, and be killed by the nobility of this kingdom? Tell me!"