《The Seven Sophists》


 Chapter I

    Chapter I


    ¡°There were judges in the village,¡± Gerech said, his voice uneven. He was panting, dripping with sweat, and covered in little cuts and bruises from his dash through the forest.


    His father¡¯s brush didn¡¯t stop or slow. It moved with its customary methodical intensity. Gerech, even through his panic and fear, knew that his father wouldn¡¯t be rushed.


    He waited and did not repeat himself. Even if it didn¡¯t seem so, his father always heard him.


    After another minute, the brushstrokes slowed, and then, after a crowning stroke, which wavered at the end with an artistic flourish, they stopped. His father blew lightly on the page, not to dry it, but to announce its completion.


    It was difficult to see his father¡¯s face in the candlelight. Gerech couldn¡¯t tell whether or not he was fearful, or even concerned. It would be like him to react with absolutely placid unconcern.


    There were judges in the village¡ªjudges with gleaming bronze masks and sparkling vials and cold watchful eyes--and they were searching for his father. Gerech had seen them before, singularly, and on other business or just passing through. Never in such numbers, and never bearing the justiciar¡¯s crest.


    Their orders were explicit, and they would be dauntless in carrying them out.


    ¡°How many?¡± Gerade asked. His father, rather than being fearful, or concerned, sounded curious. As if it was some academic question, and not a question of their lives.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I ran before they could see me. There were at least a dozen horses at the inn though. And there was one...with a silver mask,¡± Gerech said.


    Gerech heard his father hum. Then, with deliberate slowness, his father picked up the long roll of paper that he had been writing on, so long that it covered the length of his desk, and he wrapped it around a hollow wooden tube that had been sitting by the feet of his desk.


    Even though he had watched his father write on it, and knew that he had been taught the language that the words were written in, they seemed to blur before his eyes, like they were resisting his attempt to read them. Intentional, no doubt.


    The paper was stiff, and Gerech thought it would crack into pieces, but it wrapped around the tube¡¯s length three times. Then, with a hiss, it affixed itself like a hot wax, as if it had been soldered into place. There was no visible seam.


    ¡°Take this to the fourth drop spot on the river. Make sure you¡¯re not followed. Cover it well, and don¡¯t go back for it. Once you¡¯re done, go to the Shurr¡¯s house. They will watch over you until I come back.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Gerech asked, almost afraid to hear an answer. It was the finality in his father¡¯s voice that impelled him to ask.


    ¡°The judges will detain me, and attempt to extract answers from me,¡± Gerade said. ¡°They will fail. However, they will not release me until they¡¯ve exhausted every avenue. It may be some time.¡±


    ¡°We can run! They¡¯re not here yet. If we¡¯re quick we can get away. Bede has horses. We can take them and run away,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°If you believe that we will escape from them now then you¡¯ve wasted my lessons. How many common passive exegeses are there for hunting and tracking?¡± his father asked, dropping into his tone as a lecturer.


    ¡°Four for hunting human or animal, two for specifically tracking suspects or criminals,¡± Gerech said, speaking calmly and slowly but itching to move, to grab his father¡¯s hand and run before those cold masks came for them.


    ¡°And which would be most effective for hunting a suspected, but unconfirmed, fugitive?¡±


    ¡°Leopold¡¯s Solution; it can be prepared on paper or a compass and activated by the addition of any byproduct of the subject. The greater the sympathetic connection, the more precise the tracking.¡±


    ¡°Precisely, and that doesn¡¯t even take into consideration the fact that they have a genuinely capable judge with them. Any silver mask will be more than capable of extemporizing. Given that we don¡¯t have time to comb the house for every stray hair it should be obvious that there isn¡¯t any escape for me here.¡±


    ¡°We could burn the house,¡± Gerech said. It was a thought made more out of desperation than anything.


    His father slapped him. Gerech¡¯s world spun and he toppled backward, hitting the floor. It took him a moment to reorient, and by that time his father was standing, shoving supplies into a pack that was as tall as Gerech¡¯s torso.


    ¡°Burning books is a greater evil than burning another person,¡± Gerade said. ¡°With each passing year, more knowledge is taken from the north. My son will not add to its passing. No, I will be taken, but I will return. They lack sufficient evidence to convict me.¡±


    Tears prickled at the corner¡¯s of Gerech¡¯s eyes. He tried not to cry--his father had never respected tears--but he couldn¡¯t stop them. They trickled down his cheeks in long tracks. For a few seconds, his sniffling was the only sound in the house.


    The brass tube was the last item to be placed into the pack. His father treated it reverently, as if it was a sanctified object, and then, with a suddenness that was disorienting, he tied the bag closed and shoved it into Gerech¡¯s arms.


    ¡°Take this to the river, then make haste to the Shurr¡¯s house. Do not tarry, and do not return,¡± his father said.


    The bag was too heavy. Gerech¡¯s arms sagged under the weight, and even putting his arms through the straps and hoisting it onto his back didn¡¯t do much to alleviate the strain. From the sound coming from inside the bag as its contents shifted and shuddered, there were at least a dozen books inside, each one thick and bound in rough hide.


    His father had never taken to the newly printed books. For some reason, that thought seemed especially sad to him.


    Gerech turned back to his father, but found that he was looking away, through the cracks in the shuttered window. He waited for a moment, half-expecting his father to turn back to him and offer more words, some consolation, but as he waited he knew that he was waiting in vain.


    His father had given his parting gift, and his last instructions. He was to do as he was told.


    The door to the study didn¡¯t make a sound as it closed behind him, in sharp contrast to the front door, which whistled shrilly as he pushed it open and peeked outside.


    From there it was only a short dash to the treeline. Gerech didn¡¯t see the distinctive masks of any judges.


    He had thought, naively, when he was younger, that his father had picked a secluded cabin because he liked the quiet. It was only as he gradually became aware of the work that his father did that he realized they lived nearly a mile from their closest neighbor because to court closeness was to invite danger.


    On another day the dying light that the sun cast over the forest might have seemed charming, like it was something out of a fairy tale. Now all Gerech could see was the nightmare of judges in every nook and cranny, waiting with twisted weapons for him and for the treasures he carried.


    The trip to the river normally took less than five minutes from the house. It took Gerech nearly twenty.


    Too long, he berated himself, wondering if his father had already been clasped in irons. Was he already being marched down the street, like just another common criminal?


    The river, if it could be called that, was hardly a dozen feet wide, but it ran deep. On days with heavy rain the water would rush and churn, potent enough to drag the unwary downstream. It resembled, more than anything else, a deep moat that had been unevenly carved through the land.


    Bede liked to tell him about how giants had carved the land so that generations later they would be able to fish from the river and wash their feet. His father liked to tell him that was nonsense.


    Where the river met its banks, smooth rocks accumulated in tall piles, tumbling over one another and growing in number after each storm. At the peak of its fury, the river would fling forth stones like a maddened attack, striking anyone foolish enough to stand close.


    There were dozens of such cairns all along the river, with nothing to distinguish between one another unless one was exceedingly careful and attentive.


    When they were younger, he and Bede had hidden trinkets in the rock piles along the river, testing one another to see how long it took to find them. Bede always won; she was able to hide them so well that even Gerech, who had an obsessive familiarity with the river, couldn¡¯t tell where she had shifted the mounds.


    There was a trick to it all, born of years of observation; the river washed up rocks in certain patterns at certain times of the year, and after a certain volume of rainfall. Bede had picked up on it first. That summer, Gerech hadn¡¯t won a single game.


    Strangely, his father had encouraged their game. Now Gerech was using it to hide his most treasured possession.


    Despite his hurry and borderline panic, Gerech didn¡¯t throw the rocks aside. He forced himself to act like he was playing a game with Bede--a game that he absolutely couldn¡¯t let her win.


    Gerech shifted and nudged and prodded the rocks out of his way, making it look like the natural shift of time. Then, once the hole was just large enough, he slid the wooden tube inside, before shifting the pile so that the tube was hidden by a dozen rocks on the sides and on top.


    He had no fear that the tube would be crushed. His father¡¯s exegeses would keep it from harm or decay.


    At last, Gerech sat back and surveyed his work. His father wouldn¡¯t be satisfied with anything less than perfection. Bede would be able to find anything less than perfection.


    The silver judge would find anything less than perfection.


    The rockpile maintained its casual lumpiness, like it had been brought together by natural forces rather than a pair of human hands, and it was neither taller nor shorter than any of the others nearby. Most importantly, not even a hint of the wooden tube poked through the sides of the rocks.


    For whatever reason, when Gerech stood up, his pack felt immeasurably lighter. The books were still there; his pack was still heavy and ungainly. However, now that his task was complete, Gerech felt as if he could stop and take a breath.


    Even if he was caught it couldn¡¯t be all that bad, he thought. They might even keep him together with his father.


    As long as he had done the task he had been given, his father couldn¡¯t be that upset with him if he was caught. The manuscript, his father¡¯s magnum opus, was safely hidden.


    It was only the idea of Bede finding out that he had been taken away that convinced him to maintain his stealth. Gerech took the roundabout way to her house, passing through the forest into the tall fields until the familiar thatched roof of her family¡¯s farmhouse came into view.


    Bede was sitting on the front porch, staring out toward the town. Nothing was visible through the trees, but Gerech could tell that there was an unusual hush in the air--the town didn¡¯t have any of the usual shouts, or wagons rumbling, or animals bleating. It was as if its vivacity had been stolen away.


    Gerech let the squeaky board on the third stair announce his arrival. Bede whirled to face him.


    ¡°You¡¯re ok!¡± she cried, jumping up and rushing over to him.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m ok,¡± Gerech said, trying not to show how pleased he was by Bede¡¯s concern, or the way she threw her arms around him.


    ¡°Papa came home from work early today,¡± Bede said. ¡°He told us that there were judges in town. He said that they¡¯re looking for someone, and that they brought some terrible machine.¡±


    He could read her too well. Her expression told him everything. She knew who they were there for. She had been worried for that very reason.


    ¡°Did he...did your dad, say anything about me?¡± Gerech asked.


    It was the only polite way of asking the question that he could think of. Was he allowed to be there?


    He wouldn¡¯t blame them if they wanted to send him away. He didn¡¯t want to be a danger to Bede.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot. Papa would never send you away,¡± Bede said firmly.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t blame him if he did. A man has to do what¡¯s right by his family,¡± Gerech said, trying to adopt the same tone that he had heard from men in the village.


    ¡°People have to do what¡¯s right,¡± Bede said, her arm raised to cuff him.


    ¡°That¡¯s what the judges say,¡± Gerech said.


    They both turned to look at the town. Something about it drew the eye. It wasn¡¯t as if the town was on fire, yet there was something unnatural in the air; a stillness that didn¡¯t belong. If he listened, Gerech thought that he could make out a faint trilling on the air, like a sort of music, but too unnatural to qualify.


    Gerech shook his head to clear it. He couldn¡¯t be afford to be distracted.


    ¡°What¡¯s going to happen now?¡± Bede asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to take my father away,¡± Gerech said. The words conjured up an image on their own; one of his father in chains, thrown into some smelly, disgusting, dank cell to suffer and rot until they were satisfied, or couldn¡¯t be bothered to think of another reason to keep him there.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be alright. The two of you are the smartest people I know,¡± Bede said.


    ¡°What good are brains in a cell?¡± Gerech said, unhappy despite the praise.


    ¡°You might be surprised. All the stories I¡¯ve heard are about prisoners using their wits and their smarts to get by.¡±


    ¡°Stories aren¡¯t going to do him any good now.¡±


    Bede didn¡¯t respond to that, but Gerech hadn''t expected her to. She wouldn¡¯t play the foil to him wallowing.


    The sound of something heavy and metal broke through the silence. It was a low rumbling that was interrupted by occasional staccato notes as what could only be metal wheels bounced up and down in the town¡¯s potholes.


    ¡°I want to see it,¡± Gerech said, suddenly. As terrible as it would be to watch his father get dragged away, it was even more terrible to imagine it, as it cycled through a thousand permutations while his mind struggled to settle on one firm image, careening from terrible to unthinkable.


    ¡°That¡¯s the opposite of what your father wants,¡± Bede said. Her hand snapped to Gerech¡¯s arm, latching on, as if she could restrain him from running off.


    ¡°I already did what he asked. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll do anything stupid. I just need to see him off. I need to make sure that he¡¯s...alright,¡± Gerech said. His words were failing him. His tongue fumbled and failed him. He looked plaintively at Bede.


    She paused, then said: ¡°My family will notice if we¡¯re gone too long. They didn¡¯t even want me to wait out here. It¡¯s dangerous right now.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t be looking for anyone else once they have my father.¡±


    ¡°If they think that you¡¯re an accomplice they¡¯ll take you away too. They don¡¯t care how old you are.¡±


    ¡°Has anyone ever caught us when we didn¡¯t want them to?¡± Gerech asked, with a spark of his usual playfulness.


    For some reason Bede flushed and looked away. Her head turned back to town, where the rumbling of the metal contraption had stopped.


    ¡°We won¡¯t go into town,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll stay on the edges. Even if we can¡¯t see anything we¡¯ll turn back without going any farther.¡±


    ¡°I promise we¡¯ll be safe,¡± Gerech said. He set his pack on the porch, as if the conversation was already settled.


    Bede gave him an unhappy look but she didn¡¯t say anything. Gerech took that as a concession. She glanced back into the house before they left, and they listened to the low murmuring of her parents in the kitchen. Talking about him or his father, Gerech suspected.


    ¡°We should be able to see everything from the hill,¡± Bede said. She took off at a dash and was able to make her scampering path over fallen logs and enormous rocks look graceful. Gerech was hard pressed to match her. It was something that he was used to, but which still stung his pride.


    Sodder¡¯s Hill loomed high over the town and cast a long shadow in the morning. It had a thick copse of trees growing at the top and none on the sides, giving it a topheavy appearance, as if it would one day break in half and crash down on the town below.


    The two of them had always used Sodder¡¯s Hill to meet, or eat, or spy on the interesting going-ons in town, or just to pass the time.


    Now it was the perfect vantage point to watch his father get dragged away in chains.


    Bede took the steep slope up the hill at full tilt, moving through tall grass like it was air. Gerech was breathing heavily by the time he made it to the top. She slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet him. He glared, but didn¡¯t dare say anything out loud.


    The trees on the top were so thick and numerous that they had to move to the edge just to get a glimpse of the town below. Bede fell into a crawl and Gerech followed her lead.


    At first glance, the armored monstrosity in the center of town stole his attention. Bede stared as well, equally slack jawed. It was shaped almost like a snail, or an old noble¡¯s carriage, with a crudely forged and misshapen shell stretching overtop it which tapered down in the front and the back. It had three sets of paired wheels on either side, and they sagged to the ground under the weight of the vehicle.


    On the top of the machine, where the shell crested, was a crossbow--like the arcuballista that Gerech¡¯s father had shown him in one of his books--but larger, and on a rotating metal stand. It had a trio of thick bolts already set into place and was manned by a bronze masked judge.


    Three more stood near the machine, as if guarding it, while a few more patrolled in the vicinity. Without even looking further, Gerech counted seven of them.


    He was scanning the rest of the town when Bede elbowed him sharply. She gestured with a flick of her chin toward the road leading into town.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The silver masked judge, mounted on a white horse with compatriots in tow, led a figure into town. The man had a blank mask over his face, and his hands were bound together by steel manacles. A small steel ball, covered in scripture, was shackled to his right leg. It wouldn¡¯t be heavy enough to impede his walking but would be more than enough to prevent any attempt at a speedy escape.


    Gerech was horrified by the sight of his father. Not even in prison yet and he was already chained and bound like any other common criminal; treated like a man who had stolen riches or murdered a noble when his only crime was to seek a truth that differed from what the justiciar preached.


    It wasn¡¯t until Bede put a comforting arm on his shoulder that Gerech realized he was growling, lowly but audibly. He calmed himself.


    Realistically, they were too far from town to be heard, but everyone had heard rumors about the superhuman capabilities of the judges. From what Gerech had been taught, not only were the rumors true, but they understated the capabilities of certain judges. He refused to be on the receiving end of that.


    His father followed the judges at a sedate pace, like he thought that being imprisoned by an entire team of judges was nothing but a slight inconvenience.


    Gerech didn¡¯t see any faces in the windows in town, but he imagined that they were there, watching his father, already judging and hating him for imagined crimes.


    Bede looked at him, and mouthed: ¡°Enough?¡±


    Gerech shook his head. He wanted to watch until the end. He couldn¡¯t be satisfied unless he bore witness to the whole affair.


    It seemed to take forever for his father to reach the strange machine. Gerech was tense the whole time. Once the judges got to the side of the machine, one of the judges who had been guarding it went over to his father and removed the mask from his face.


    Gerech was proud of the stoic demeanor his father showed. He didn¡¯t shake his head from side to side, or look disoriented, or even check to see if anyone was watching--he simply looked in the face of the judge in front of him, as if to inquire politely whether there was to be anything else before they would be on their way.


    The silver masked judge dismounted and rapped on the carapace of the machine, which sent a ringing echo through town and up Sodder¡¯s Hill. The side hatch opened, slowly, revealing the door to be thicker than Gerech¡¯s arm, reinforced the whole way with plated steel.


    A distant part of him wondered how the contraption could even move under its own weight. Then his father was being moved inside it, swallowed by the great beast. For a moment he paused, standing perfectly still, and Gerech imagined, perhaps fancifully, that his father was pausing before his triumphant, and inevitable, escape.


    A judge put a warning arm on his father¡¯s shoulder. He bent over and entered inside.


    The small weight dangled in the frame of the hatch for a few seconds, and then it vanished inside as well. The door shut behind his father with an ominous clang.


    The judges didn¡¯t wait. There was no triumphant celebration, no elaborate giving of orders. They just moved into formation around the machine, as if they were an ceremonial guard, and it shifted into motion.


    A cacophonous roar announced the machine starting up. The wheels began to spin, fruitlessly for a moment, before they picked up traction and began to carry the swollen beast forward. The road trembled against the earth underneath it.


    ¡°Gerech,¡± Bede said imploringly, tugging on his shoulder. She had been calling his name for a while, he realized.


    He nodded, letting her pull him to his feet. They made their way back to her house.


    Gerech was in a daze, hardly even aware of where he was. The faint trilling was back, beating at the edges of his mind, circling like a mad tribal band before flitting away whenever he focused on it.


    It was all too horrible. There was too much finality when his father was taken away.


    He said that he would be back. He had promised. Or was Gerech just wishing that he had promised? What had his parting words been?


    His father would never lie to him. His father didn¡¯t lie to anyone. He could cross that off of the list of possibilities without hesitation.


    There were only two options then; either his father had been wrong, and Gerech would never see him again, or he had to trust that his father had known what he was talking about. How the judges operated was a closely guarded mystery. Maybe that sort of convoy was standard.


    He wanted to run through all of the possibilities with Bede. She was too clever by half, a perfect sounding board, able to follow his train of thought and intercept it at the most critical moments, offering her own thoughts and analysis. But one look at her, at the fright and unease on her face, and Gerech knew that he couldn¡¯t mention it to her.


    For her, this was an episode to be forgotten. He, however, could never allow himself to forget.


    Bede¡¯s father was waiting on the porch for them when they got back. He looked frustrated, even angry, which wasn¡¯t something Gerech had ever seen before, but he didn¡¯t say anything as they shuffled inside the house like chastened children.


    No doubt it had taken all of his self-restrain to resist. Gerech knew that he had likely already upset the head of the family that was to take him in, but he couldn¡¯t regret going to see his father¡¯s imprisonment.


    In retrospect, he wished that he had left Bede behind. It may have felt natural to include her but it was dangerous.


    They sat down in the parlor, Bede on the couch and Gerech in a faded plush chair. Her mother had put out refreshments; two glasses of her signature spiced apple juice, normally reserved for quaint summer afternoons.


    Gerech couldn¡¯t bring himself to drink his. Bede downed hers in a moment, like the taste could wash away what she had seen.


    He felt like he had to say something. Silence between them had never been uncomfortable before, never worth thinking about. Now it was like a monster of its own, and to break it was to slay it. But he couldn¡¯t find the words.


    What could he say? Something about the judges, or the monstrous machine that had swallowed up his father, or about the fact that he would be sponging off of them until his father came back


    If he ever came back, Gerech¡¯s mind unhelpfully supplied.


    They stewed in silence, lost in their own unutterable thoughts, until he couldn¡¯t take it anymore. The house, the chair, Bede¡¯s sullen expression¡ªall of it made him feel like he was being swallowed up as well.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get some of my things,¡± Gerech said.


    Bede roused herself and looked at him as if just remembering that he was there. ¡°You might need help.¡±


    She didn¡¯t say it like it was an offer, but more as an observation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be alright. I¡¯m just grabbing a few things. Most of the stuff there isn¡¯t important,¡± Gerech said.


    His father would tell him that all of the book were important, and that he was a fool if he didn¡¯t properly value knowledge.


    Gerech waited for Bede to say something else, hoped for it, but she was silent, already looking off again. He would¡¯ve said something more, even reached out to her for mutual comfort, but the trilling was like a fly in his thoughts, irritating and distracting and making even the idea of talking more to Bede seem impossible.


    Her father wasn¡¯t on the porch anymore. Gerech noted that his bag was already gone as well, perhaps moved inside to the room he would be staying in.


    Nobody stopped him from walking off. He had expected someone to.


    It felt like he shouldn¡¯t be allowed that freedom to just walk wherever he wanted. Not while his father was chained inside a steel monster.


    Sound had started to return to the forest. There was even some noise coming from town, horses clattering and doors being slammed without a care, though that faded gradually as Gerech started on the path back to his house.


    His house. He braced himself for the worst. A still burning husk, or a ransacked shell; a damaged, broken remainder that would reflect what had been done to them. His father wouldn¡¯t have resisted the judges, but Gerech didn¡¯t doubt that they would have done anything to find incriminating evidence. Books torn apart in the search for hidden sections, chests broken to ensure there weren¡¯t false bottoms; probably even boards torn out of the floor, just on the off chance that they were hiding a cellar stocked with forbidden texts.


    They wouldn¡¯t have found anything. His father didn¡¯t keep any banned books, or have hidden treasures, or even indulge in frowned-upon vices. Their house might have been the cleanest in the whole town.


    The only piece of evidence that could have incriminated his father was the manuscript that Gerech had hidden away.


    It had always been a point of pride to his father that he didn¡¯t need to rely on the contributions of others to advance his work. To hear him talk about it, his book would be a wholly original contribution to philosophy.


    Gerech had to resist the urge to double back and make sure that it was still there. The manuscript was safe. He had to trust that his father knew what he was talking about. Trust that his father would come back. Even though it was hard, with that insufferable trilling, he had to trust his father. That was one thought he knew, deep down, that he absolutely had to hold on to.


    The house was still standing, no worse for wear. There were bootprints on the grass, and the door was still ajar, but other than that there was little to mark the judges¡¯ passing.


    Even the inside had barely been touched. The books had clearly been searched, and things were out of their natural place, but if someone had told Gerech that it had been examined by a careful appraiser, rather than a bunch of zealous judges, he would have believed them.


    His father¡¯s study was the only exception. The desk had been roughly treated, with two of the drawers sitting clean on the floor, and his sheets of scrap paper were laying on the floor, scattered and trampled on.


    Gerech put a hand on his father¡¯s desk. He almost expected to be reprimanded for doing so, or to feel a slight rattling as his father¡¯s brush commandingly struck the paper. Instead, the desk was silent, refusing to give up whatever secrets it yet kept.


    He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn¡¯t notice the brush of air on his back. It was gentle, like a caress, and it made him feel a fear that he had never known before.


    The trilling stopped.


    Gerech turned. The silver-masked judge was standing in the doorway. They held a twisted flute, which had elaborately carved inscriptions snaking their way from top to bottom.


    There wasn¡¯t time to think. He dashed for the study window, hoping to push it open and leap through into the bushes below, but somehow the judge was already next to him, so fast that Gerech hadn¡¯t even seen them move.


    The judge¡¯s hand was on his shoulder. Their grip was tight and unyielding. It seemed to promise terrible things if he resisted, but despite that Gerech struggled and flailed and shook, as if he could do anything to someone with such unimaginable powers.


    ¡°You are the philosopher¡¯s son?¡± the judge said. It wasn¡¯t a question--really, it was more of a quizzical observation.


    If he had been thinking through his panic, Gerech might have been insulted.


    He kept his mouth shut, resolving not to say anything that might make the situation worse. His father had always counseled silence in uncertain situations.


    Slowly a fog started to lift from his mind. He glanced down at the flute. It was held loosely, almost carelessly, in the judge¡¯s grip.


    The judge didn¡¯t seem much interested in his thoughts. He kept speaking, his voice hard to decipher through the strange warping effect the mask had on it.


    ¡°There are two bedrooms, both of which are clearly occupied. One is for an adult, one a child. Gerade Storrisch isn¡¯t registered as having a child, yet here you are. Very interesting. He never struck me as that sort of man...¡±


    The judge pulled the desk chair around to the middle of the room, then pressed him down into it, almost gently.


    Gerech was incensed by the pretense of care that the judge took. He had just seen his father in chains. He wouldn¡¯t be taken in by false kindness.


    ¡°I am Judge Liene, of the Fifth Imperative, charged with finding and destroying works proposing heretical philosophies¡ªworks that run contrary to axiomatic principles of Justice. In carrying out my duties, I am able and willing to demand assistance from any involved citizen. In this case, I demand your assistance. You will give me information on the heretical philosopher Gerade Storrisch. You will tell me where to find his missing notes and manuscript.¡±


    Gerech tensed at the mention of his father¡¯s work. He doubted that the judge missed it. His mask made him unreadable, but Gerech got the impression that the man behind it didn¡¯t miss anything.


    His father had told him that hunting down heretical philosophers was the most sacred duty of the judges. Only the best were chosen to join those expeditions.


    To be leading one meant that Liene was, without a doubt, extraordinary.


    ¡°If you assist me, clemency will be granted, both to your father and to the people that are sheltering you,¡± Liene said.


    Panic gripped Gerech. He didn¡¯t fear for himself; self-interest seemed was distant and hard to comprehend after he had watched his father get taken away.


    But to condemn Bede? To let her suffer for his carelessness? That made him fearful.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t do anything,¡± Gerech said, like obvious lies could save him. He needed to buy enough time to think of a way out of it.


    The judge needed to be satisfied. He had to keep Bede safe, but he couldn¡¯t betray his father. He needed to be clever enough to find a solution; every problem had a solution if you thought about it long enough.


    ¡°I have no doubt that you were the one to hide your father¡¯s manuscript. You have aided and abetted a known dissident. Because of this, and because of her family¡¯s willingness to shelter you, your friend will be charged with the crime of knowingly aiding criminal elements. Unless you give up the location of Storrisch¡¯s manuscript, these charges will be taken before a High Judge and your friend, and her family, will be prosecuted.¡±


    Listening to Liene speak made Gerech furious. He talked like there was nothing personal about any of it, as if he was just another emotionless part of a faceless monolith that could bury all of them without the slightest trouble.


    The worst part was that it was all true.


    Gerech was trapped. He would have to betray someone that he loved¡ªthe only question was who.


    The judge kneeled down in front of his chair. For a moment, Gerech wondered if he was going to be hit. Then, with a fluid motion, the judge removed his mask.


    Or, Gerech corrected, her mask. Without the mask covering her face and obscuring her voice, Gerech was able to see that the judge was a young woman, with short dark hair and a narrow, strict face.


    ¡°I won¡¯t talk down to you,¡± she said, ¡°because I know that you¡¯re too clever by half to be taken in by any nonsense. Your father has been a known heretical philosopher for years, and it''s only the frequent moves, lack of hard evidence, and the fact that he wasn¡¯t distributing his ideas that kept us from taking steps to apprehend him. But now we know that he was working on a book, and that he was close to finishing it. We know what the book is about, and it¡¯s not something we can risk getting to the public or to dissenting factions. I¡¯m sure that right now you think of us as the bad guys. I understand that. But all we¡¯re trying to do is keep the peace, to keep everyone safe, and happy, and make sure that justice is carried out for everyone, equally.¡±


    Even though Gerech was looking away, had turned his head away in revulsion, she kept talking, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his cheek.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to get your friend and her family involved, even if it is the right thing to do, because I understand that they were just trying to look out for you. The urge to take care of the people you love is strong, even if it isn¡¯t the perfectly just thing to do. If you help me then I won¡¯t have to bring them in. I can make sure that you¡¯re kept safe. After a few years in a state school you¡¯d be free to do whatever you want with your life. I¡¯m sure that with your mind you¡¯d be able to get a job as a dialectician without any problems, if you wanted.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to tell me that the right thing to do is to betray family. That¡¯s so stupid I don¡¯t understand how you can say it with a straight face,¡± Gerech said. It was petty, but he wanted her to feel even a fraction of what he was feeling.


    He didn¡¯t want her sympathy, or understanding. He wanted an enemy. He wanted to spit in her calm, assured, self-righteous face.


    He wanted her focused on his vitriolic mouth, and not on the hand that was twitching, ready to snatch that flute from her.


    Gerech wasn¡¯t gratified by any particular response on Liene¡¯s part. The mask, he decided, hadn¡¯t even been needed to keep her reactions hidden. She had such perfect control over her expression that it made her face seem like nothing more than another mask itself.


    ¡°From our perspective, your father betrayed you first. Not only did he make your very existence a crime by never having you registered, he continued to keep you with him as an accomplice while he worked on a book that he knew was both seditious and immoral. If that isn¡¯t wrong then I don¡¯t know what is. Loyalty is admirable, and does you credit as a son, but right now it¡¯s being used against you.¡±


    There was a rushing in Gerech¡¯s ears. His fingers wavered.


    Her words were so soft, so unnaturally persuasive, that he almost just wanted to agree with her, to do what she told him.


    It was for Bede, he could tell himself. He would never do anything to hurt Bede. She trusted him. Just the idea of betraying Bede made him want to cry out in torment.


    It would be so much easier than protecting his father--his father who had, he knew, lied to him. His father who he would never see again.


    His father, who had sent him away with the one thing he loved most in the world.


    It wasn''t him. It had never been him.


    It was always the manuscript. His work. His magnum opus. The revelation that would silence a just nation and cut to the core of a Concept.


    There was something to Liene¡¯s words. If he was someone else, and if his father had been someone else, perhaps he would have been taken in by them. But he understood that the sway her words suddenly had over him wasn¡¯t natural. He knew about the strange powers that judges had. He knew that his father was magnificent, and that his dreams were magnificent.


    His fingers tightened, reached out, and tore the flute from Liene¡¯s grasp. He took a split second to relish the shock that overtook her, the shattering of her perfectly assured persona, and then he blew on the flute as hard as he could.


    It was to his utter dismay that nothing happened.


    ¡°The flute, while itself the host to many powerful exegeses, requires extemporization to function. It¡¯s a tool for a select few, not a weapon that can be picked up any wielded by anyone,¡± Liene said. She almost sounded disappointed.


    With surprising gentleness, she pried the flute from his sweaty grasp.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a rat,¡± Gerech said, his voice flat and emotionless.


    He turned to look Liene directly in the eyes. She still seemed sad, and he had the sudden thought that she was showing him how she really felt, but then her eyes hardened again and the moment was gone.


    Liene grabbed the underside of his chain with a gloved hand, forcing him to stare directly into her eyes, and Gerech felt the rushing in his head intensify, and then press even harder, more than he had ever felt before until it felt like his mind was collapsing in on itself.


    Her lips were moving, but he couldn¡¯t hear. She was extemporizing, and he was being pushed and pulled and twisted into a small mental box, only ever to be let out at her leisure.


    It was almost a comforting thought. One that he could cling to. She had been in his head the entire time. Those poisonous, treasonous thoughts hadn¡¯t been his. He could trust in his father.


    Gerech embraced the silence that unconsciousness brought.


    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    It was the rough shaking that brought him back to consciousness. He had enough familiarity with horses to find their trot calming, even if his situation was anything but.


    He was behind Liene on a horse. They moved at a slow pace, like she had been considerate enough to let him rest. As if he wasn¡¯t unconscious because of her in the first place.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re awake,¡± she said, without turning back to look at him.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± Gerech asked. The trees surrounding the dirt road were just like the ones around his town, but he couldn¡¯t be sure of how far they had traveled. His father always said that the only part of the country that wasn¡¯t a carbon copy of the rest was the frozen far north.


    He thought about running. It would, ultimately, be fruitless. He had no supplies, no idea where he was, and no chance of outpacing her even if she hadn¡¯t been on horseback. She was the sole arbiter of his fate.


    ¡°We¡¯re about an hour from Camp Gedank. It¡¯s part of the reeducation family of camps, specifically tailored to deal with victims of rogue philosophers and other seditious elements. More than anything else, it¡¯s a school for people without other places to turn.¡±


    ¡°Another brainwashing camp then. That¡¯s not going to work on me,¡± Gerech said. He hoped that his words showed a bravery that he didn¡¯t feel. Everyone knew about the reeducation camps that criminals were sent to.


    The stories about those camps, or at least the reliable ones, were not pleasant. They spoke of harsh conditions, long and tedious lessons, and cruel punishments for anyone that didn¡¯t conform.


    In the end, people said, you lost the will to resist anymore. When you left it was as a husk of your former self.


    His father usually dismissed the town gossip that Gerech brought him but he was always silent when the subject of camps came up.


    Gerech realized he must have flinched, or reacted in some other way, because Liene said: ¡°It¡¯s not a bad place. The people here understand that you¡¯re a victim in this. They want to help you, and they were chosen for this camp because they have the skills to do so.¡±


    ¡°Generous,¡± Gerech said. It sounded like childish insolence, but he refused to be grateful to Liene. She was probably lying to him anyway. Her definition of bad conditions were definitely nothing like his. She seemed like she wouldn¡¯t mind having her freedom taken away. She had already sold hers, after all.


    ¡°Keep an open mind. If your philosophy, your father¡¯s philosophy, is so superior to the justiciar¡¯s, then you have nothing to fear from facing it in full and without reservation,¡± Liene said.


    ¡°Is Bede going to get the same chance?¡± Gerech asked, more quietly.


    It felt like a long time before Liene answered. ¡°Your circumstances are different. The opportunities that are available to her are different.¡±


    If his camp was designed to brainwash, then Gerech had no doubt that Bede¡¯s would be something even more terrible. Forced labor? Indentured servitude?


    His father was a philosopher, so he would be reeducated.


    Bede¡¯s parents were weavers, so she would be put to work.


    It was his fault. He had failed his father by being captured and had failed Bede by choosing his father over her. He had cost her more than he could ever hope to repay, and more than she would ever be able to forgive.


    The guilt made it easy to face what was ahead. What sort of man was he, if he shied away from his own hell after condemning Bede to hers?


    Gerech didn¡¯t shy away from the high walls of Gedank, or flinch at the masked judges that led him by the arm into long and shadowy corridors. For Bede¡¯s sake, he had to survive Gedank, and whatever came after it.


    After all, he had to win his own freedom before he could win back hers.

 Chapter II

    Chapter II


    Gedank was situated in the middle of a low valley, so perfectly centered that it was whispered by the students to have been the product of a miraculous extemporization rather than human labor. The valley itself was small, almost claustrophobic, and, on clear days, when the near perpetual mist that settled on the valley cleared, it was easy to see from one end of the valley to the other.


    The mountains surrounding Gedank, far from being intimidating, were misshapen ponderous things, like swollen hills that had grown beyond their original intentions. On most days the mist blanketed their lower halves, as if to preserve their modesty.


    The camp itself was fenced on each side by high wooden walls, stacked three logs deep and covered by thorny vines that managed to simultaneously give the camp a natural aesthetic and remind the students that their extremities would be unlikely to survive an escape attempt.


    Each thorn on the vines was as long as a finger and as sharp as a knife. Like assassins, the vines hid their weapons unless a careless bystander happened to get too close. Then they would reach out in a sudden and violent motion. Even the judges stationed at Gedank were careful not to get too close to the walls, especially on misty days, when the vines were feeling especially bold.


    In short, if one ignored the obvious prison-like qualities of Gedank, it might have been said to be a nice place to live. The buildings were clean and well maintained, done in a stolid imperial style that Gerech found to be strangely comforting, and there was never a shortage of food, clean clothes, or activities to keep them busy during the day.


    That made it even more of a shame, in his opinion, that the classes were so unutterably boring.


    ¡°And why did the Second Justiciar claim that Justice is not merely a product of either practical reasoning or virtuous intuition, as the First Justiciar had originally supposed? Becker.¡±


    Becker, a long-faced blonde sitting stiffly in the back of the room, stood on hearing his name. ¡°Professor, it¡¯s because each example of ethical reasoning must have at its beginning a starting point that is itself impossible to justify, an axiom that is simply taken for granted, which rules out practical reasoning. Equally, intuition is without the means-end considerations that lead to having a firm conception of Justice in the first place. Both, taken on their own, will lead to flawed reasoning in the pursuit of justice.¡±


    ¡°Then what did the Second Justiciar decide was the place of reasoning and intuition in his conception of Justice?¡±


    ¡°Professor, he wrote that true Justice is the product of the cultivation of a virtuous mindset, alongside careful consideration and progress toward those goods which are good in of themselves not just for the individual, but for society. Either without the other will result in a failure of Justice.¡±


    Professor Heinke nodded, apparently satisfied, and he motioned for Becker to sit down. The boy did so with barely concealed relief.


    Gerech wanted to snort at the sight. Heinke letting Becker sit after giving an explanation that any uneducated county magistrate could have provided was a travesty. It resembled plagiarism more than a thoughtful response.


    Becker read little of what they were supposed to read, and understood even less. He was fortunate that Heinke didn¡¯t expect much more than regurgitating second-hand texts.


    If he thought that they would let him sit for the dialectician exams with his understanding of Justice then he was even more deluded than most of Gerech¡¯s classmates.


    ¡°The Second Justiciar¡¯s contributions to our understanding of Justice as a virtue can¡¯t be understated,¡± Heinke went on. ¡°It was his work that advanced our concept of Justice to a point at which we could base a government, and a society, around it. The entire system of dialectician and magistrates is a direct result of policies he put in place after writing Justice as a Virtue. You might even say that the exam for the level of Fourth Dialectician is primarily an exam on your understanding of the relationship between Justice and virtue.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t hard for Gerech to tune Heinke out. Most of what he was saying Gerech already knew. It wasn¡¯t, after all, his first time in the class.


    From his point of view it was far more interesting to look around at his classmates and wonder how many of them would still be around in another six months.


    Becker would be long gone, of course, either off to a less advanced reeducation camp or, if his results really tanked, to one of the indentured labor camps that dotted the countryside like so many infected sores. It was hard to think about those camps.


    Or, Gerech thought, it would be more accurate to say that it was hard to think about those kinds of camps without thinking of Bede.


    There were too many kinds of camps to name, and too many to even begin to guess where she might have ended up. Even after so long, his mind plagued him with possibilities every night.


    Was she stuck in a mine somewhere, laboring with pick and shovel to get the materials for those pristine masks the judges wore? Or was she a maidservant to some bumpkin magistrate? The laws protecting servants were strict, but there were always stories about how they were circumvented or ignored.


    The thought of someone laying their hands on her made his stomach roll and his anger start to boil.


    Gerech had to forcibly unclench his hands. Nothing would have happened to her. He told himself that every day, every night, when she came to mind. They wouldn¡¯t have done anything to her. As long as she cooperated, as long as she buried the kind of person she was in favor of being a productive and compliant laborer, she would be fine.


    She would be fine and he wouldn¡¯t have another thing to blame himself for.


    The class was letting itself out. Gerech should have already left; they were seated in order of class standing, with the worst students in the back and the best in the front. If he had been paying attention, he would have been one of the first to go. His seat was practically in the rafters.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t in much of a rush. ¡®Free time¡¯ was a bit too on the nose when you were in a reeducation camp.


    ¡°Daydreaming again?¡± Heinke asked, when it was just the two of them left.


    ¡°No offense, but your class was better the first time around,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Then you should have passed it. It¡¯s not designed to be the sort of class you take twice,¡± Heinke said.


    ¡°Tell that to the director. You know that I¡¯m always ready to move on to bigger and better things.¡±


    ¡°If you turned in a satisfactory final paper then you might have been able to. I warned you that your topic would put you in an uncomfortable position.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be the quality of original thought and argumentation in the paper that decides who moves on, and not who can best reword ¡®generally accepted¡¯ secondary sources?¡±


    ¡°Quality is one thing. Attempting to undermine the reasoning behind the modern concept of Justice is quite another,¡± Heinke said, his usual cheer dimming, if only for a moment.


    ¡°A judge once told me that there¡¯s nothing to fear from a different philosophy, as long as you really think that yours is superior.¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s right. But a pithy quote certainly isn¡¯t going to change the minds of the camp and academy administrators.¡±


    ¡°Is pleasing a bunch of administrators really the end goal of all of this?¡± Gerech asked. He gestured around to the classroom, but it felt more like he was gesturing toward the camp itself.


    Gerech liked to think that Heinke was fond of him. In comparison to the other students, he understood what they were reading and could speak intelligently about it. He had to understand it if he was going to make a valid critique of it. Heinke could disparage his motivation all he wanted, the results spoke for themselves as far as he was concerned.


    To put the point more accurately, it often seemed to Gerech that Heinke the professor was fond of him, and Heinke the reeducation camp authority figure was frustrated with him. That made it difficult for Gerech to resist poking at the dual sides of Heinke, seeing if he could tease out some inner conflict with every paper and every argument.


    Interesting ways to pass the time were rare in Gedank. He was fortunate that Heinke was such a good sport about it.


    ¡°I¡¯m advocating for you again, tonight,¡± Heinke said, his tone turning serious.


    ¡°Not that I don¡¯t appreciate you doing that for me, since it means I won¡¯t get stuck with Pollings or Gertheart,¡± Gerech said, ignoring the murmured rebuke about proper titles. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s going to make much of a difference at this point. They¡¯ve already made up their minds about me.¡±


    ¡°I like to think that I have enough influence around here to make my mind known when the situation calls for it,¡± Heinke said.


    It was a generous offer, and it wasn¡¯t the first time that Heinke had made it. However, it wasn¡¯t freely given.


    The implication was all too clear; fall in line, change your tune, and everything else will snap into place without any problems.


    Rejecting tempting offers was something of his specialty, Gerech thought. Whether it was a judge, a philosopher, or a king, he wouldn¡¯t bow to any conscience but his own. His father had taught him that much.


    ¡°Influence is a currency; I wouldn¡¯t waste yours on me,¡± Gerech said.


    Heinke never took his refusals personally. ¡°Then I won¡¯t pry any further. I will remind you, however, that the path for someone with dubious connections, and without the support of an institution like this, can be fraught with numerous perils. It isn¡¯t easy to make your way in the world without a friend, and already on the wrong side of the government.¡±


    ¡°Judging me before I¡¯ve even done anything? Doesn¡¯t sound like Justice to me.¡±


    ¡°People struggle their entire lives to measure up to the ideals of Justice. I wouldn¡¯t live life expecting that they¡¯ll be perfect,¡± Heinke said, with the sort of wry amusement that made Gerech think that he had once indulged in that very mistake.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll be alright,¡± Gerech said.


    Heinke scrutinized him closely, intensely, to the point that Gerech started to squirm under the examination. It was like he was trying to see past everything on the surface and find out something truer and essential about him.


    There were always whispers about the strange behavior and possible powers of certain philosophers, but Gerech always remembered how little his father had displayed in the way of extraordinary behavior and dismissed that as idle chatter. Occasionally, however, Heinke would do something that made Gerech start to question that dismissal and wonder, if only for a moment, if there was something to the rumors after all.


    If anyone was going to develop strange abilities, wouldn¡¯t it be the philosophers who spent their entire lives in pursuit of the truest representation of the Concept?


    Finally, Heinke seemed satisfied with his exam. Gerech almost released a relieved sigh. He felt like he had been standing stiff at attention for an hour.


    ¡°You may be right. You seem like the sort of person to land on his feet,¡± Heinke said. ¡°Either way, you¡¯ve stayed behind for too long. You¡¯re going to miss dinner, and that will land you in trouble even before your review.¡±


    Gerech took the dismissal with grace. He left Heinke sitting at his desk, a pensive expression on his face.


    It was kind of Heinke to be his advocate yet again, but Gerech had started thinking of his monthly reviews more as summary executions than meetings. They would gather the academy¡¯s Headmistress, the camp director, and the head of security together, put them in a cramped room, and then spend an hour dissecting every single report which had been put together on him in the last month (which was, usually, a flattering amount), none of which depicted him in a flattering light.


    Then, they would reject his application to take the dialectician exams and send him back with a stern warning that if his behavior didn¡¯t shape up they would send him to a different, less accommodating camp.


    It wouldn¡¯t be the first time they had threatened that. Gerech had concluded months ago that if they could have shipped him off, they would have.


    Something was staying their hand. It bothered him that he didn¡¯t know what.


    Though, as he turned a corner on his way to the dining hall, he decided that some people certainly wished that they weren¡¯t so constrained.


    ¡°Talking a little walk around campus?¡± Hest asked. He was, as usual, wearing his bronze mask, despite the fact that he was the only judge in Gedank that bothered with it.


    ¡°I was with Professor Heinke. You can go ask him if you like,¡± Gerech said, trying to at least sound polite. It wasn¡¯t worth giving Hest the smallest infraction¡ªhe would exploit it to the utmost.


    ¡°No need. I trust you,¡± Hest said, moving to the center of the path so that he could block Gerech.


    ¡°Glad to hear it.¡±


    ¡°In fact, since I know just how much of an upstanding individual you are, I thought I would ask if you heard anything about some contraband being smuggled into camp. We¡¯ve caught a few inmates with illicit material.¡±


    Inmates. If Hest had one habit that Gerech found especially odious, it was his way of referring to the other students as inmates. While not far off from reality, it had a certain tinge of self-righteous condescension that made Gerech want to familiarize his shiny mask with the hard ground.


    Liene had told him that the people at Gedank wanted to help, that they understood what he had been through. Hest may have known, but he certainly didn¡¯t care.


    Gerech disliked him, wished him ill even, but it was nice to know that he didn¡¯t have to wonder about where he stood with Hest.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know how any of the students got their hands on that. I¡¯m sure you know that I haven¡¯t left camp in two years,¡± Gerech said. Obeisance, false or otherwise, was the best way of keeping his conversations with Hest short.


    ¡°Of course not. I just thought I¡¯d ask you to keep your eyes open. The punishment for someone caught smuggling is serious; a labor camp would be the least of it. On the other hand, the reward for any information would be equally impressive. I¡¯ll make sure to let your, uh, classmates, know as well. So that they can keep their eyes open too.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a brilliant plan,¡± Gerech said, unfazed. Hest had been trying to string him up on some kind of charge since his first month. Gerech liked to think that it assuaged his irritation at never getting a promotion.


    They had both seen generations pass through Gedank. Judges and students never spent very long at Gedank. Other than the professors and the administrators, they were two of the camp¡¯s most storied occupants.


    ¡°If you think that a couple of books and some yellow journalism are going to keep any of the people in here from turning you in then you have another thing coming,¡± Hest said. ¡°Bad seed will out. They¡¯ll turn on you in a heartbeat, and then you¡¯ll be out and where you belong.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to it,¡± Gerech said, slipping past Hest on the side of the walkway.


    Protestations of innocence hadn¡¯t worked in the beginning and they certainly wouldn¡¯t work after all of the trouble he had caused. Though, his trouble was more on the academic side of things, rather than what Hest should have been concerned with. Gerech supposed that there was just something about him that made him seem like a subversive element to Hest. Or maybe it was a power trip. Didn¡¯t make the slightest difference to him.


    He didn¡¯t pass anyone else on the way to the dining hall. It was only when there weren¡¯t any lurking judges, or harried students, that the beauty of the camp was visible.


    Whoever had designed the academic half of Gedank had taken serious liberties with the aesthetics, setting up vaulting roofs for the buildings, neat and evenly spaced trees on either side of the paths, and even a small statue of a noted painter in the middle of the quadrivium.


    It could have been designed to evoke a contrast with the other half of camp, where the students had to sleep, work, and face inspection, but Gerech always appreciated the beauty of the camp¡¯s better half when he could. Even if it was an obvious ploy to make them appreciate the benefits that a career as a dialectician could offer, as opposed to a fruitless and painful intellectual revolt, he could still admire the work and thought that had gone into its design. Beautiful propaganda was still beautiful.


    He wouldn¡¯t go so far as to hold Beauty above Justice; that was a touch too heretical even for him. Still, he would appreciate beauty where he could.


    The rest of the students were in the dining hall by the time he got there, served and seated, and more than a few turned to look at him when he entered. No doubt they were wondering what he had done to get held behind again, and if they could capitalize on it somehow.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The server gave Gerech a nasty look, either for his tardiness or the crime of existing, but piled his plate with the usual greens, lumpy meats, and tasteless grains nonetheless. Plentiful, if not appealing. Gerech took his usual spot in the dining hall.


    ¡°Should we be worried?¡± Sibyl asked.


    Aya, sitting next to him, smiled, but covered her mouth with her hand.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything,¡± Gerech said. He used the butt end of his knife to break the bread into pieces, then let one sit in his mouth until it was chewable.


    ¡°That¡¯s never convincing...coming from you,¡± Sibyl said.


    ¡°You have trust issues. I didn¡¯t do anything and I¡¯m not planning on doing anything.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you said the last three times you were late. If I remember right, you got mandatory service duty every single one of those times.¡±


    ¡°I think that means we¡¯re due for a change of pace,¡± Gerech said.


    Sibyl leaned his head onto his palm and pushed his empty plate to the side, as if it was in his way. He sighed dramatically. Aya rolled her eyes but Gerech could tell that she was enjoying herself.


    ¡°If you tell us what you got held late for I might believe you,¡± Sibyl said.


    ¡°Heinke wanted to talk about Aya. He said that she¡¯s an excellent student and that I should absolutely stay as far away from her as possible, so that I don¡¯t corrupt her and make her fail his class like I did,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°As if I would ever fail a class,¡± Aya said.


    ¡°As if you would ever do less than perfectly in a class,¡± Sibyl said, before turning back to Gerech. ¡°And don¡¯t think that I actually believe that¡¯s what you were talking about.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think that Aya is worth talking about?¡± Gerech asked, putting on a confused expression. He enjoyed the way that Sibyl colored.


    ¡°Of course she is,¡± Sibyl said, shooting a quick glance at Aya to gauge her reaction. She kept her face carefully blank.


    ¡°Then you don¡¯t think that I¡¯m a bad influence on her?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re definitely a bad influence on her.¡±


    ¡°Then what don¡¯t you believe?¡± Gerech said.


    Aya couldn¡¯t keep a straight face any longer and broke down into giggles. Gerech would take that as a win any day. Giving Aya the occasional smile, even if it was at Sibyl¡¯s expense, was worth it every time.


    ¡°It was about your review, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Sibyl asked, turning serious.


    ¡°Heinke said that he¡¯ll be the one advocating for me. The man really doesn¡¯t know a lost cause, when he sees it, I guess,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Professor Heinke¡¯s a genius and you¡¯re not a lost cause,¡± Aya said, with a ferocity that pleased Gerech. ¡°He used your paper from last semester as an example in our class.¡±


    ¡°To systematically dismantle it,¡± Sibyl said.


    ¡°Well, yes, but the point is that he¡¯s never used a student¡¯s paper before,¡± Aya said.


    ¡°Is that the paper that you were bragging you got a perfect score on?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s also beside the point. What I¡¯m trying to say is that Heinke wouldn¡¯t bother spending time on you if he didn¡¯t like you, respect you, and think that you had potential. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s bothered to advocate for anyone but you in the last year. I heard Professor Gertheart talking about how odd it was,¡± Aya said, with a certain smugness at knowing something they didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I bet she was thrilled. She¡¯s hated Gerech ever since we had Intro to Historicism with her and he refused to write about the assigned topic,¡± Sibyl said.


    ¡°Actually, that was my second time taking the class,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Hmm, true. Forgot about that. If you¡¯re not careful you¡¯ll end up stuck here longer than the professors,¡± Sibyl said.


    ¡°As long as he¡¯s gone before Hest,¡± Aya said, elbowing Sibyl conspiratorially.


    ¡°That¡¯s a given. I don¡¯t think Hest would know what to do with himself if Gerech left before him. He doesn¡¯t have any other targets.¡±


    ¡°Or hobbies.¡±


    ¡°Hopes.¡±


    ¡°Or dreams.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered to be so important to him,¡± Gerech said. ¡°He actually came up to me after I met with Heinke. Seems to be convinced that I¡¯ve been smuggling contraband into camp. He¡¯s offering some kind of reward or another for catching ¡®the guilty party,¡¯ by which he means offering incriminating evidence about me.¡±


    ¡°Good luck. You¡¯re only a rebel in the classroom,¡± Sibyl said. ¡°I think that if Hest got to know you as well as we do he would figure out that you¡¯re really very boring.¡±


    ¡°According to Professor Pollings, a rebel in the classroom is actually just how it begins. And it ends in Camp Fornier, with a pick in your hands and a shackle around your ankles,¡± Aya said, like she was telling a ghost story.


    ¡°How exactly did Pollings get a job here?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°Nobody else wanted to take a job in a reeducation camp filled with backwards people from backwards families?¡± Sibyl suggested.


    ¡°She¡¯s not that bad,¡± Aya said.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Gertheart is probably worse,¡± Gerech said.


    Aya sighed, then waved a hand in the air, as if to announce that she was washing her hands of them. Her plate was hardly half finished but she took it and stood.


    ¡°Going somewhere?¡± Sibyl asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost done with my next paper for Pollings and listening to you two boneheads go on has given me a couple of ideas,¡± she said.


    ¡°Does that make us your muses?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s more like you¡¯re convenient background noise that lets me focus on the important things,¡± Aya said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder dramatically. Gerech rolled his eyes as she walked away.


    ¡°She won¡¯t be here another six months before she gets moved on,¡± Sibyl said, sounding almost mournful.


    ¡°You could follow her, if you put your head into books instead of this week¡¯s gossip and distractions,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ever going to distinguish myself like that. It doesn¡¯t click for me like it does for the two of you. I think the talent skipped a generation in my family tree,¡± Sibyl said. As his friend, Gerech wanted to console him.


    If he was being honest though, Sibyl was unlikely to ever make it past Fourth Dialectician, if even that far. He was an almost invisible student who, because he was at Gedank, already had a black mark on his record as far as most people were concerned.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯re stuck here with me then,¡± Gerech said. He thought that he would rather die than work for the government, but he didn¡¯t expect Sibyl to be so picky. He was a good friend, but not much for principled stands.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t actually talked about Aya with any of your professors, have you?¡± Sibyl asked.


    ¡°Other than Heinke, most of my professors try to ignore the fact that I exist these days. Why?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right about one thing,¡± Sibyl said. ¡°The two of us are going to be kept here until we get shunted to another, worse, camp. Aya isn¡¯t like that though. She has a chance to actually go on and do something with her life. I just¡­ don¡¯t want her to miss out on that opportunity because Gertheart or Pollings think that she¡¯s been hanging around bad influences.¡±


    ¡°Hanging around with me, you mean. I couldn¡¯t influence her if I tried,¡± Gerech said, but the joke felt weak, and collapsed under Sibyl¡¯s serious stare.


    ¡°Getting out of here isn¡¯t important to you. I get that. Everyone gets that. But Aya wants a chance, and honestly, if the professors or the guards or anyone else sees you with her too often, it might jeopardize that,¡± Sibyl said.


    ¡°You want me to stay away from her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying that you can¡¯t ever talk to her again or something. I just don¡¯t think you should be seen with her too much.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re the one who gets to decide that?¡± Gerech felt an angry heat rising up. Aya was special, and worth protecting. That didn¡¯t mean Sibyl got to dictate how he acted, as if he was somehow dangerous to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m her friend. I¡¯m looking out for her. I¡¯m only telling you about this because I know you care about her too, even if you can¡¯t stop making jokes like nothing actually matters,¡± Sibyl said.


    Gerech wanted to get even angrier¡ªwould have gotten angrier if Sibyl had said something like that to him a year ago¡ªbut spending so much time in Gedank had taught him that the guards, and professors, and administrators were all petty and controlling, and that they picked favorites.


    They liked Aya. They hated him. When it came down to it, would he be willing to stake her future on a bet that they liked her more than they hated him?


    He wouldn¡¯t. He knew it, and Sibyl knew it too. Aya had worked tirelessly to distinguish herself for the last few months, had risen to the top of her classes without any help, and had made sure that she didn¡¯t make a single misstep in the eyes of the guards or her reviewers.


    All she had needed was a friendly face and a helping hand in the very beginning. Since then, she had blazed her own path.


    Even if he hated the system, and, to an extent, the people who bowed down to it, he had never been able to do anything but admire Aya for her unwavering determination.


    ¡°She won¡¯t understand. She¡¯s not¡­¡±


    ¡°Savvy. She¡¯s smart, but not savvy,¡± Sibyl said, knowingly. Sibyl, who was friends with the other students, casual with the guards, and obedient to the professors. Sibyl, who never put a wrong foot forward and always seemed to know the best thing to say at the best time.


    Gerech nodded, and busied himself with looking around the room, as if to catch someone listening in, but more because he didn¡¯t want to look at Sibyl, or figure out why the idea of Aya leaving him behind hurt so much more than he had thought it would.


    ¡°You¡¯re like an older brother to her. Even if she doesn¡¯t understand it now, she¡¯ll appreciate it someday.¡±


    ¡°Sibyl, not to be an ass, but I¡¯m really not interested in justifications right now,¡± Gerech said. He switched his attention to the rest of the room, forced his attention onto them so that it wouldn¡¯t have to be on him, or on Sibyl; and especially not on Aya.


    He had thought that he was protecting her from the worst of Gedank, shielding her from the wrong people and steering her toward the right. In the beginning, he had been. When had things changed so dramatically?


    The rest of the room was suddenly so much more interesting. Betta was deep in conversation with Ingst, probably something romantic judging from the faint flush on their cheeks and the way they kept looking around the room.


    Willims continually glanced over at the servers, then back at his empty plate, before poking his pudgy belly morosely, as if that would stop the hunger pangs.


    Nang was sitting by herself again, with her head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, as close to the corner of the room with the door as she could be (and hardly three feet from the closest judge). At the other end of the room, Ernst and Pastor were staring at her and talking in low tones.


    At the other end of the room, Solon stood up. His lanky dark hair fell into his face but he didn¡¯t brush it aside. He returned his tray to the servers, then, with only the barest incline of the head to the judges on either side of the door, left the dining hall. As if his exit was a signal, the rest of the people who were finished began shuffling toward the servers and the doors.


    Gerech wasn¡¯t interested in many people at Gedank. Solon was an exception to that. He had only been at Gedank for three months but there were already a dozen variations on the rumor that he was a prodigy.


    People whispered that he would be taking the Dialectician Third Class exams before the end of the year, as if an exemption from the fourth level exam was something that actually existed.


    There weren¡¯t many people in Gedank that Gerech hadn¡¯t taken classes with. He had been held back from advancing in half of his, which left him stuck with the newer and younger students, and he was grudgingly passed in the other half, keeping him with the older crowd.


    However, Solon had only been in the usual classes for a month before his ability had been recognized and he was moved into the sort of small, individualized classes that the professors only used when there was a student they were convinced would be able to help advance their own careers later on. At least, that was what Gerech thought.


    Even Heinke, who Gerech otherwise respected, had taken an interest in Solon, working with him on some independent study that neither of them would tell anyone else about. Not that anyone would ask them. Solon was utterly unapproachable, and no student was idiotic enough to pry into a professor¡¯s business.


    Solon may have been unapproachable, but there wasn¡¯t much for Gerech to lose anymore. Making enemies out of the other students wasn¡¯t exactly something he was worried about anymore. Might as well see what was so interesting that the rest of his classmates and professors were falling all over themselves about.


    Maybe it would distract him from Aya.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you later,¡± he said to Sibyl, not waiting for a response before he dashed out the doors after Solon. The judges gave him a strange look as he passed by, and he vaguely heard something from Sibyl about cleaning up his plate, but he ignored them all.


    Solon hadn¡¯t gotten far. He was taking his time through the camp¡¯s quad, seemingly heading in the direction of their dorms. Gerech would have expected such a top student to spend all of his spare time in the library, since they weren¡¯t able to take most of the worthwhile materials out of it. Unless, of course, he had special dispensation from a professor.


    Despite how strange his approach was, Solon didn¡¯t look surprised to see him. He was even the one to break the momentarily tense silence between them.


    ¡°Gerech Storrisch, yes? Professor Heinke told me about you.¡±


    ¡°If it was Heinke then I¡¯m afraid that everything he said is true,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Are you going back to the dorms?¡± Solon asked.


    ¡°I could stand for a nap before I start on my assignments,¡± Gerech said. He had been aiming for a joking rapport with Solon, but from the utterly vacant expression on his face Gerech supposed that that wasn¡¯t the best way of going about getting to know him.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t under the impression that you did most of your assignments,¡± Solon said. ¡°Professor Heinke told me that your work falls into three broad categories: unfinished, half-hearted, and deliberately inflammatory. I believe that he was warning me away from your example.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more like I selectively skip the ones that could land me in the most trouble and I¡¯m too honest on the rest for my own good,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Does avoiding problems fit with your personal philosophy?¡± Solon asked. Despite the aggressive nature of the question, he asked it in an almost innocent fashion, like he really was just curious and not looking to get a rise out of Gerech.


    ¡°This place has a tendency to make me compromise on all sorts of things that I never thought I would,¡± Gerech said, dropping his artificial joviality.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say that I¡¯ve had that problem,¡± Solon said.


    There was plenty that could be read into that, but Gerech was nervous about trying to get a read on Solon so quickly. He didn¡¯t have any obvious quirks or tells, patterns or fallbacks, that most people did when they were speaking. It was as if he had picked up interacting with people in the same way that someone picked up a second language; he was stiff and unidiomatic.


    ¡°Sure. From what I¡¯ve heard the professors all seem to love you,¡± Gerech said, probingly. He was rarely so blunt but he doubted Solon would care.


    ¡°They are pleased with my progress, but I had a degree of schooling before I came here so I don¡¯t think that my performance is as surprising as many are making it out to be,¡± Solon said.


    They were passing other students on the path now and getting strange looks. It was, from an outsider¡¯s perspective, an odd juxtaposition; Solon was the best student in Gedank and Gerech was, if not the worst, than near the bottom of the list, and for reasons that were even more damnable than simple incompetence.


    ¡°I think a lot of people here had schooling. Hell, I had schooling. None of us are doing as well as you,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that being exposed to a couple of wayward heretical ideas counts as schooling. The camp puts those who were trained in foreign schools along with those who were merely exposed to them. I expect that there are only a handful of people here who were systematically instructed. And of those, you might be one of the only ones to hold to what you were taught,¡± Solon said. There wasn¡¯t any judgment in his tone, but Gerech didn¡¯t get the sense that he was understanding either. While he prided himself on his ability to get a read on people, he was finding Solon inscrutable.


    ¡°That might be intentional,¡± Gerech said, taking a risk and continuing the line of thought. Such conversations weren¡¯t banned, but if a judge overheard them talking it would no doubt find its way into their review files.


    ¡°Intentional?¡±


    ¡°People who only picked up fragments will be overwhelmed by the structure and clarity of a complete theory. Since they¡¯re the majority, that creates an atmosphere of capitulation and obedience to the philosophies taught here, putting pressure on the people who did have more formalized training, and who would otherwise be more able to resist, to succumb in the same way as people who didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very cynical approach to the problem,¡± Solon said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent a few years here. I like to think that I have some insight into the system,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you ever consider just going along with their system? It would have gotten you away from here, at the very least,¡± Solon said. For the first time, his voice wasn¡¯t utterly level; some curiosity had found its way in.


    ¡°I considered going that way in the beginning, but I¡¯ve spent too long holding on to my beliefs to just let them go for the sake of convenience. For better or for worse, I¡¯m stuck with them,¡± Gerech said.


    There was a pause, as if Solon was digesting that, then he said: ¡°I think it will turn out to be for the worse.¡±


    Gerech couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°No doubt. Things haven¡¯t exactly gone well for me so far.¡±


    They were outside of the camp dormitory for boys, a squat building made of some new cheap synthetic material. It was, by far, the ugliest building on campus.


    The dormitory had been built so low that it forced the taller boys to bend their heads while they entered so that they didn¡¯t run into the flimsy door frames. Solon was of a height that he would have to do that, Gerech judged.


    In a few months, if he was still at Gedank, he might have to do it as well. Strange¡ªwhen he had arrived, the building had seemed so appropriately sized.


    Solon seemed ready to go inside, as if that had been the natural conclusion of their conversation, but he stopped abruptly and turned back to Gerech, like he had just decided on something.


    ¡°I think that sometimes holding on to your convictions is the only thing that you can do. It¡¯s admirable, in its own way, even if it¡¯s also idiotic,¡± Solon said. He went inside, and his expression never changed.


    Gerech glanced around after that short statement, worried that a judge may have been listening in, but the only ones present were two pairs patrolling the pathways, neither of which were within normal earshot range (though that didn¡¯t exactly mean much when it came to judges, Gerech knew).


    He decided that he liked Solon. He was quiet, socially inept, and obviously bright, which was a career ending combination for any dialectician, if the rumors were to be believed. It was, fortunately, a combination that made for interesting company and conversation.


    It would be a shame to see him go so soon, if only because he would no doubt be replaced by yet another brown-noser scurrying around the camp looking to curry favor with whatever judge or professor that caught their eye.


    A shame, but he supposed he might be able to have a good conversation or two with Solon before he was sent away.


    Their conversation would certainly go better than his review session. Gerech didn¡¯t have to look at a clock to know that it was almost time.


    He sighed. Sometimes it seemed like he was constantly picking the worst possible choice. Stuck at Gedank, without even a glimpse of freedom, because he was too stubborn to capitulate even in the face of certain failure.


    Gerech just hoped that Bede was showing more sense than him.

 Chapter III

    Chapter III


    ¡°Is there a reason that they put so much effort into making this seem like it¡¯s going to end with me getting a prison sentence?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°For especially bad cases this does end with a prison sentence,¡± Heinke said, without his usual good cheer.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I¡¯ve got you here,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°I was the advocate defending several of those prison cases.¡±


    ¡°Right, great, that¡¯s reassuring. On second thought, maybe I would be better off advocating for myself.¡±


    The waiting room for the review hall was a cold, damp, stone room lacking adornment of any kind. The only concession made to aesthetics was room¡¯s compulsive tidyness. There was a pair of worn wooden chairs shoved into the corner, clustered around an end table which looked to have been grabbed out of storage as a last resort, tilting precariously to one side. The table had a tattered copy of the Third Justiciar¡¯s Treatise on Punishment, stylistically ripped and faded just enough so that one wondered how many students it had seen packed off to labor camps.


    It had been intimidating for his first few reviews. Now Gerech just thought that they were trying too hard.


    ¡°Fortunately, you¡¯ve limited your acts of rebellion to academic papers that most of the review board haven¡¯t bothered to read, and you¡¯ve become little more than a nuisance to the rest of the professors. Most of the ones who ended up in prison went there because they were violent, disturbed, or both. The list of people arguing that you should serve any sentence has always been short, though rather vocal.¡±


    ¡°Short, as in just Hest?¡± Gerech asked.


    Heinke shrugged, but he looked too amused for Gerech to have been far off. As unusual as it was for individual judges to offer their input into review cases, Gerech knew that Hest did so at every opportunity. His distaste for Gerech was as deep as it was irrational.


    ¡°Let me do the talking today. This could be more important than you think,¡± Heinke said. There was nothing particularly strange about that; Heinke¡¯s most consistent piece of advice for him was to keep his mouth shut. For a professor, he was an awfully slow learner, Gerech thought.


    Still, there was something in his voice, a half-concealed somberness, that made Gerech think that there was something to this particular warning.


    ¡°Something I should be worried about?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°If these reviews don¡¯t worry you then you¡¯re a fool. A single misstep here, an enemy made that you didn¡¯t even know existed and the rest of your life could be changed forever. The administrative side of Gedank isn¡¯t as closely aligned with the academic as you probably assume. People have their own agendas, and not all of them will be kind to you.¡±


    ¡°In other words, you can¡¯t say for sure, but you think that this is something different from the usual monthly review.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt to be careful,¡± Heinke said.


    In another life, if their roles weren¡¯t thinly veiled as that of captor and captee, Gerech might have thanked Heinke. But no matter how much Heinke helped him, no many how many nasty situations he helped Gerech avoid, the fact remained that the help that Heinke offered was much the same as that of a passerby helping a sick dog. He had about as much of a legal status, anyway. It was hard to be truly comfortable with someone when they held all the cards, and played them so close to their chest. He might have been made more comfortable if Heinke was willing to say why he suspected something but that wasn¡¯t going to happen.


    While Gerech was thinking, the door to the boardroom opened. An abnormally tall judge, at least six and a half feet tall, wearing a stylized bronze mask which boasted short lines of scripture along the sides, stood in the doorway, reaching to the top of its frame.


    As an intimidation factor, Gerech was willing to admit that it was much more potent than a cold stone waiting room. He was able to parse the meaning of a few of the lines of scripture, mainly having to do with eyesight and hearing, but the script was too small, and his facility with the language too modest, for him to be sure of the broader meaning.


    It had been too long since he had studied scripture, or philology more generally. His father had introduced it to him sparingly and Gedank didn¡¯t have a single book on the topic. Not surprising; from his brief survey of history Gerech noticed that tyrannical regimes weren¡¯t in the habit of arming the children of avowed dissidents and heretics.


    ¡°They¡¯re ready for you. Please follow me,¡± the judge said. Gerech didn¡¯t recognize the voice, but some masks employed solutions to conceal identities. In this case, given the man¡¯s height, Gerech was inclined to think that he simply didn¡¯t know him.


    Heinke shot him a look when they entered the room, less a command and more of a plea for him to watch his mouth. Gerech winked at him.


    The review board was a triumvirate of the highest powers at Camp Gedank; the representative of the professors, the camp¡¯s head administrator, and the head judge. In contrast with the rest of the camp, which saw employees come and go at nearly alarming rates, those three had been constants for Gerech¡¯s entire time at Gedank.


    ¡°Gerech Storrisch, student at Gedank for twenty-seven months, here for his twenty-sixth review,¡± the judge escorting them said, inclining his head slightly to the panel before returning to loom at his post at the back of the room.


    The room which hosted the review board was nearly as sparse as the waiting room. At the end of the room there was an enormous half-moon desk made out of a strange, nearly black wood. Behind it sat the three officials, each of whom was far enough away from the other that they could reach out without touching. It was an overt power play that remained effective because it was, more than anything, an honest reflection of the power imbalance between the students and the three who would be deciding their fates.


    As usual, Director Bast had a swathe of papers in front of her, with reading glasses that slid down to the the tip of her nose as she leafed through them.


    Gerech could never be sure if she actually needed reminding as to the particulars of his case or if it was just another of her affectations. She was largely an invisible presence around Gedank, not as involved with the punitive side as High Judge Hayys, nor as invested in their individual development as Professor Auffer (who, Gerech was reliably informed, actually managed to read most of what crossed her desk, which might have explained why she had been stuck with the professor¡¯s representative position for so many years).


    Gerech was reasonably sure that Hayys was supposed to wear his silver mask while he was on the review board, but he was also sure that nobody in camp had the authority to reprimand him for failing to do so with the possible exception of Director Bast, who didn¡¯t bother.


    Hayys was largely an invisible presence at the meetings. He had never spoken at Gerech¡¯s reviews, or anyone else¡¯s. In the thousands of reviews that he had sat on, Gerech very much doubted that Hayys had spoken even once.


    From the way he held himself, and the deep scar running along his temple, Gerech had him pegged as a former field judge. He had some silver in his hair that made Gerech wonder if he was of an age to be a veteran of the Third Crusade.


    It was difficult to tell the age of highly placed judges and philosophers. Too often their appearance didn¡¯t match their real age. Heinke had flatly refused to talk about the personal affairs of anyone on the review board the one time Gerech had gone so far as to ask about it.


    To a casual onlooker Hayys seemed utterly indifferent to the whole affair. His space on the leftmost side of the desk was clear, other than his scuffed mask, and his eyes always had a glazed appearance, like his mind was elsewhere. Despite that, Gerech had seen Hayys a few times when he was with the other judges; there hadn¡¯t been a trace of absentmindedness or boredom in him them. If he appeared weak or distracted while on the review board it was by his own choice, a conscious facade designed to play into a student¡¯s perception of him; a perception he had carefully constructed.


    That left only Professor Auffer. Out of the three she was the only one who was genuinely hostile to Gerech. He had to admit it made sense. If she read everything that crossed her desk then she would have a very good idea of the trouble he caused in his classes, even if he hadn¡¯t ever had her personally before.


    Gerech took her to be the most straightforward of the three, the easiest to predict. Unfortunately for him, that prediction was easy because the last twenty-five times he had been brought in front of her, she had advocated for him to be sent away from Gedank, to a series of increasingly inhospitable reeducation camps as his infamy within Gedank grew.


    Since he was sure that nothing would ever change her mind about him, she was the one Gerech had the fewest qualms about purposefully winding up.


    ¡°Twenty six times in front of us. That¡¯s nearly a record,¡± Auffer said. Her voice resonated artificially in the chamber. It was an unnatural feature that had to have been the product of an exegesis, Gerech had decided after his seventh or eighth meeting. There was no way that normal acoustics could produce that obnoxious ringing effect.


    ¡°Since his last monthly review, Herr Storrisch has received no critical disciplinary warnings, has failed three assignments, and has obtained official reprimands for six minor infractions,¡± Bast said, holding up a piece of paper and reading off of it in a stilted voice. ¡°That puts his total at four critical warnings, eighty-four failed assignments, and two-hundred and forty-four minor infractions.¡±


    ¡°Outrageous,¡± Auffer said.


    Hayss¡¯ head dipped once, like he was struggling to stay awake.


    ¡°There is one report written by an attending judge, coming in at twenty-three pages, which has been added to the previous reports written by the same judge. That collection now totals six-hundred and ninety-three pages, available for perusal by the board at their request.¡± Somehow, Bast¡¯s dry tone managed to convey exactly how likely she thought that request would be. ¡°Advocate, do you understand the nature and extent of the charges leveled against Herr Storrisch?¡± Bast asked.


    ¡°I do,¡± Heinke said.


    ¡°Are you prepared to advocate for Herr Storrisch, despite the fact that he is not considered to be in good standing by the educational, administrative, or disciplinary wings of Gedank?¡± Bast asked.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Very well. We may proceed. Judge Hayys, you may begin your questioning,¡± Bast said.


    Hayss moved his hand vaguely, in a way that may have been a dismissal, and Bast nodded. ¡°Very well, Judge Hayys concedes his time. Professor Auffer, you may begin your questioning.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Director,¡± Auffer said. She fixed her gaze on Heinke, ignoring Gerech entirely. ¡°This is becoming something of a routine, Professor Heinke.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always a pleasure to engage with my colleagues, and to show to my students the rhetorical benefits of a lifetime spent in pursuit of Justice,¡± Heinke said, giving Auffer the same short incline of his head that the initial judge had. Respect, but not deference.


    ¡°Be that as it may, it¡¯s highly unusual for a student to spend so long at Gedank before being moved on to one of our sister camps. It¡¯s even more unusual for that student, a student in especially poor standing, to spend their entire time at Gedank being represented by a single professor. So unusual, in fact, that I believe it has never happened before. Is this an interest of a more personal kind?¡± Auffer asked.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Gerech lifted his head slightly at that. Making eye contact with Auffer would have been taken as a challenge, but he had to admit that he was interested by her line of questioning. Usually she just rattled on about the same reasons he should be removed from Gedank. For her to go after Heinke, even indirectly, was a new tactic. One which showed that she was nearing the limits of her patience with both of them.


    ¡°Academic actually; as all of my interests are,¡± Heinke said. ¡°Herr Storrisch is one of our more unusual students, so it doesn¡¯t surprise me that his record also skews toward the unusual.¡±


    ¡°Unusual is a kind way to put it. A failure as a student and citizen of the North would be more appropriate.¡±


    ¡°In it¡¯s own way, the quality of the work that Herrr Storrisch has submitted in my classes is unquestionable. Rather, it¡¯s the content which I believe his professors find disagreeable, if they would do me the honor of allowing me to speak on their behalf.¡±


    ¡°He is currently in danger of failing two of his classes, and, to be blunt, he has only escaped that fate in several others because he has already failed them once before. Even our esteemed colleagues have their limits when it comes to suffering through his disruptions and the casual disregard he displays for their teachings,¡± Auffer said, finally looking at Gerech, even if it was only to shoot him a look of contempt.


    ¡°I would argue that that¡¯s highly surprising behavior on the part of my colleagues,¡± Heinke said, his expression implying that he found it anything but that. ¡°As I said before, however, the quality of Herr Storrisch¡¯s work is above that of nearly all of his classmates. I would suggest that if his professors find fault with it, it¡¯s due to his conclusions, and not the process by which he arrives there, which should, as educators, be our primary concern. Conclusions can change over time, and I believe that we owe him the opportunity to reach different conclusions, the proper conclusions, in the future.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve read his papers. The thrust of his theories, if they can be called that, are directly contradictory to the central tenets of Justice. His work is, frankly, perverse,¡± Auffer said.


    Gerech thought that she was over exaggerating and oversimplifying, no doubt for the benefit of Hayys and Bast, who wouldn¡¯t have had the time or inclination to read any of his work. He wasn¡¯t against everything that Gedank taught about Justice; it was merely a few key principles that he took exception to.


    Well, in his papers at least. He was hardly going to put down his most seditious thoughts for his professors. In fact, he would argue that he had been quite tame over the years.


    ¡°I would suggest that if Herr Storrisch has, after over two years in our classes, continued to argue against us, that reflects on us as his professors, more than it does him as a student. It is our responsibility to demonstrate the validity of the theories that we teach, and it¡¯s our pleasure as instructors to teach a student who has a developed such a nuanced understanding of the source material that he is able to engage with it critically; something which has been sorely lacking in the work of his peers,¡± Heinke said.


    ¡°You would have us believe that his work is merely misguided, and so you draw attention not to his beliefs but to his capabilities. That misses the point¡ªno, rather it makes the choice before us even starker. I believe that to move Herr Storrisch to one of our sister camps would be to arm a potentially dangerous heretic who has shown no indication that he should be trusted with further education and higher truths; truths which are dangerous in the right hands, much less the wrong ones. His capabilities, such as they may be, are only further reason to keep him away from the study of philosophy and philology.¡±


    ¡°Your conclusion, Professor Auffer?¡± Bast asked. A faint hint of irritation was showing on her face and Gerech didn¡¯t blame her. Despite an interesting beginning, which spoke to some tension between the professors, it ended up turning into the same tired argument that they had all been forced to listen to for the last year. Even he was getting sick of it.


    ¡°I recommend Herr Storrisch¡¯s immediate transfer to Camp Ausdauer. It has an accommodating academic program which will allow him to continue pursuing a challenging curriculum, while also covering a vocational training that presents none of the potential dangers of allowing him to continue with his current area of study,¡± Auffer said.


    ¡°Your conclusion, advocate?¡± Bast asked, turning back to Heinke.


    ¡°I recommend Herr Storrisch finish out the curriculum at Gedank before being transferred to Gymnasium Eule, which will balance the more advanced curriculum, which Professor Auffer is worried about, with a more theoretical and considered approach, which I believe will help to sway Herr Storrisch from his current philosophical inclinations,¡± Heinke said.


    ¡°Any final comments?¡± Bast asked, giving a perfunctory glance over at Hayys, who stared blankly back, then a more searching one at Heinke and Auffer. They said nothing.


    ¡°We will now vote. Those in favor of Professor Heinke¡¯s recommendation?¡±


    None of them raised their hands. It had never been a question of whether they would go with Heinke¡¯s suggestion. None of them had shown the least inclination to accept his conclusions before, and Gerech doubted that they would start anytime soon. The only question was whether or not they would kowtow to Auffer¡¯s.


    It would, Gerech thought, turn out as it always did. Auffer in favor of her own recommendation, Hayss abstaining, and Bast abstaining. Inconclusive, and the reason that he had been stuck in Gedank for so much longer than anyone else.


    ¡°Those in favor of Professor Auffer¡¯s recommendation?¡± Bast said.


    Auffer raised her hand.


    Hayss did as well.


    The judge¡¯s expression never changed. He still had the indolent, glazed expression even as he condemned Gerech to a life of mediocre servitude in some backwater camp.


    Even Bast wasn¡¯t able to contain her surprise. Her eyes widened, and Gerech could swear that he heard her inhale sharply. Next to Gerech, Heinke¡¯s knuckles turned white as he gripped the sides of his chair.


    ¡°Two in favor of Professor Auffer¡¯s suggestion,¡± Bast said, a note of something unpleasant, even furious, like a cutting edge in her voice.


    ¡°Director-¡± Heinke said, but he was cut off immediately.


    ¡°Vetoed,¡± Bast said. ¡°With two votes in favor, but one veto, this review is adjourned.¡±


    ¡°Vetoed?¡± Gerech said, unable to contain himself. He thought his voice had echoed, but then he realized that his surprise had been accompanied by a furious outburst by Auffer.


    Auffer was as furious as Gerech had ever seen her. Bast, behind her usual composure, looked angered as well, her eyes narrowed as she met Auffer¡¯s gaze head on. Heinke was looking at each of the three in turn, as if trying to figure out what had led to their deviation from the established pattern, the tacit agreement that they had all been party to.


    Hayss had broken out of his usual malaise and was staring intently at Bast. He didn¡¯t have Auffer¡¯s anger, or Heinke¡¯s surprise, but a calculating consideration, like he had finally found something worth his time.


    Auffer looked ready to protest. She had to visibly gather herself to hold back another outraged complaint.


    Gerech hadn¡¯t known that the director had veto power, but he thought that Heinke at least would be pleased by his veritable stay of execution. Heinke, however, looked like he was staring into the face of something grotesque, and there was a long silence before he noticed Gerech, and Bast¡¯s, gaze, and completed the standard end to the review.


    ¡°Thank you for your time. We will withdraw,¡± Heinke said. He grabbed Gerech by the arm, roughly, and all but dragged him from the room. The stationed judge, in a complete breach of professionalism, stared at them as they passed by.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Gerech asked, struggling to keep up with Heinke¡¯s frenetic pace.


    ¡°Not here,¡± Heinke said, fixing him with a fierce look.


    They rushed through the hallways, drawing the gaze of passersbys, both students and judges alike, until they reached Heinke¡¯s office. Heinke finally released him. Gerech sat down in the closest chair and massaged the new bruised spot on his arm.


    ¡°This is...troublesome,¡± Heinke said, collapsing in his own chair.


    ¡°It¡¯s good news, isn¡¯t it? I mean, I didn¡¯t even know that the director had veto power but at least she used it for me,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°The reason you didn¡¯t know that she had it is because it hasn¡¯t been used in her tenure here. Director Bast doesn¡¯t get personally invested in review cases. She may take a stance, but she won¡¯t override her peers,¡± Heinke said.


    ¡°Until now,¡± Gerech said, still unsure of why Heinke had reacted so poorly. Even if it was unusual, and her motivations inscrutable, surely it was still good news.


    ¡°This is problematic because Bast is retiring next month,¡± Heinke said, looking almost apologetic.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Gerech said. He paused. ¡°Then this is really just a stay of execution.¡±


    But Heinke was shaking his head, with the same look he got during class when a student missed the point entirely.


    ¡°Bast is retiring in a month, and Auffer and Hayss have made their position on you clear. They want you far away, and in a camp as unlikely to let you learn philology, or frankly any philosophy, as possible. Auffer kept her choice of camps tame because she knew that Bast would vote against anything unduly harsh. However, with a new replacement coming on, one without the context of your case, and with Hayys¡¯ implicit support, she¡¯s likely to get whatever she pushes for next month. To a new director, your record will speak for itself. They won¡¯t make enemies of their new colleagues for the sake of a student they¡¯ve never even met before.¡±


    A labor camp had never been outside the realm of possibility. Gerech had known, based on how he behaved and the things he wrote, that there was a chance he could get sent there. But somehow, after the first few months when he had been able to get away with it time and time again, he had started to doubt, deep down, that it would ever happen to him. He had cultivated a sense of invulnerability, a sense of following in his father¡¯s footsteps with original thought and clever work that cut against the established norms. It was the small acts of rebellion in the midst of so much crushing, mind-numbing conformity that had kept him sane.


    Now he was being punished for that, all at once, in the worst way possible. The small freedoms that Gedank allowed would seem like miracles compared to whatever was offered in the camps that Auffer would be sure to dream up.


    It was painful to think of how he would suffer, but it was even more painful to think that he had let his father and Bede down. He had been relying on Gedank passing him on, without further recommendation one way or another, so that he would have freedom. Even without real prospects for the future, Gerech had never seriously doubted that he would eventually regain his freedom. A labor camp, a real labor camp, would put an end to that.


    ¡°So it¡¯s over then? There¡¯s nothing more I can do?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°From an unbiased perspective, which is how the new director is likely to look at your case, yes. You¡¯re far over the qualifying threshold for a labor camp,¡± Heinke said. He didn¡¯t flinch away from saying it. Gerech was grateful that he wasn¡¯t being pitied, at least.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why Bast would veto them then? Doesn¡¯t she know that it would only make things worse for me?¡± Gerech asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always found the director¡¯s behavior toward you inexplicable. A student in any other case would have been sent away after a few months. Yet Bast always abstained. It¡¯s one of the few mysteries of her tenure here,¡± Heinke said.


    ¡°That¡¯s it then. I guess it¡¯s not surprising, really,¡± Gerech said, feeling obliged to put up a brave face, even though the idea of spending the rest of his life in tedious toiling, never again seeing the people he cared about, made him want to curl into a tiny ball.


    ¡°It may not be too late,¡± Heinke said, his gaze serious, and demanding the same from Gerech.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what you said before,¡± Gerech said.


    ¡°Most of your offenses are academic in nature. If you recant your opinions, write your papers about accepted theories of Justice, and throw yourself on the mercy of the new director, you may just have a chance. Enough for another month. Enough to get sent somewhere that will offer you the chance of a real future.¡±


    At first it was an appealing thought. He would swallow his pride, go back on his beliefs, but was that too high a price to pay for his freedom? Especially when there was still so much for him to do¡ªdebts that demanded fulfillment¡ªfor his father, but especially for Bede.


    The idea of clemency was seductive, and it was for that very reason Gerech knew it was wrong. He stood with his principles; if he wasn¡¯t the sort of man who did that then everything that Bede had suffered was because of a pointless act of obstinacy by a stupid kid who wasn¡¯t willing to admit that his father had abandoned him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve made my choices. I won¡¯t become a hypocrite now,¡± Gerech said, putting all of the strength he had left into his claim. He folded his arms over his chest, as if to punctuate his resolve.


    Heinke nodded once, then again, and a pleased expression broke out over his face. ¡°I did hope you would say that,¡± he said.


    There was a rattle at the door. It was less like someone knocking, and more like a series of timed thumps on the door in a careful pattern.


    Heinke said nothing. The rattling stopped, a brief phrase of scripture flashed in and out of being on the bottom of the door, and then it swung open. Solon was standing in the doorway.


    ¡°Good, I was hoping you¡¯d arrive soon. This will be easier to explain all at once,¡± Heinke said.


    Solon nodded and shut the door behind him. ¡°I almost didn¡¯t come. Your request was highly irregular,¡± he said to Heinke, before taking the seat next to Gerech.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Gerech asked, looking between Solon and Heinke.


    ¡°Tell me, Gerech; how do you feel about a major career change?¡± Heinke asked. ¡°Say, from indentured laborer to heretical philosopher?¡±


    For the first time, Gerech saw Solon smile. It was terrifying.