PuristLove
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 11, 2000
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- 1,694
"You will live and die here," she said. The words filled her with sadness as they fell from her lips. But her wishes did nothing to negate the truth she spoke.
"Why, Banta?" the young man asked.
The elderly woman glanced at the door before she whispered, "Because the Kuan'tah will never let you go."
"But what gives them the right to make me do this?" Kain looked up at her, his eyes flashing curiosity and indignation. He gestured at the table in front of him with his hands.
"They are Kuan'tah. We are Loah'tah," she pointed to the clay tablet in front of him.
"Now get back to work before Cuanth comes. He will punish you if he sees that you have not been working."
Kain bent back to his work. He tried to concentrate on copying the images over onto the fresh clay but his mind wouldn't cooperate. His pictures never looked close enough to the originals; straight lines too curved, angles not accurate. He pressed his stick into the tablet, bearing down hard on it in frustration. It snapped, sending the bottom half flying across the room.
"Damn the Gods," he cursed and threw the other half of his stick at the wall.
"Hush Kain, don't speak so," Banta said, "Your too young for such blasphemy."
"I just can't do this anymore. I'm not cut out to be a scribe. Why can't I go to the Academy? I want to be Kuan'tah. To learn magick and fencing," he stood up and raised one of his hands, curling it into a fist.
"You were born to our caste Kain, you have to accept that. Just be glad you aren't Jaba'tah or even slave-caste. How would you like to spend your entire life as little more than a beast of burden?"
"But can't you see? That's what we are. Our burden is just these damn images we have to carve for them over and over. We don't even know what they use them for."
"Oh Kain, what does it matter? There is nothing you can do to change the way things are," she softened her voice. It hurt her to watch the young man suffer so much. She wasn't related to him by blood but she was the only person in the world that cared about him.
"Banta, I swear that some day I will change things. I'm going to create a world in which anyone can be anything," his voice carried steel in it.
"Don't let Cuanth hear you speaking so, he'd have you lashed for it," she sighed. There was so much fire and iron in the boy. The Kuan'tah would beat it down though, eventually Kain would be as resigned to his fate as the rest of them. A shame, she thought, that he should be wasted in this way.
"I know Banta, don't worry. I should probably get back to work on this tablet," he sat back down.
"I'm finished for the day. Why don't you go outside and I'll do some of yours for you?"
"No Banta, you go take your supper. I'll get this done somehow," he took a new stick from the table and began to copy the meaningless images again.
#
Kain dragged himself back from the daydream. The pain was still too fresh to reminisce about Banta.
"Stop wasting time scribe," the Mage's voice had the sound of dead branches breaking underfoot.
Nodding, Kain hunched over his work and began to copy. He'd grown much better at his work in the five years that he'd been here. Still, he wasn't nearly as good as Banta had been, even before they'd taken her away.
The old woman might have had hands bent by arthritis but she was still the best scribe in the temple. If it didn't hurt so much he would have laughed at the stupidity of the Kuan'tah. One day they'd seen her massaging her stiff fingers and without even a word they'd snuffed out her mind.
Kain gritted his teeth and stared at the next figure. It was one of the hardest to imitate, with more curves than any of the others, but he'd repeated it so many times that he didn't even have to look at twice to trace it out in the clay.
Why do I do this? He asked himself. What is the point of repeating these same pictures over and over? Does it even have any meaning?
He gave himself back to the work for a while, trying not to think about how purposeless it all seemed. Copying the tablets over and over so the Temple could send them out to the Academy and some of the other temples.
Why do they send them? What use do they have?
He mulled over the other things the Kuan'tah sent out. Never food or supplies, each temple was self-sufficient. The Loah'tah were used to provide those things. It was always magical items, the tablets, and messages.
Sometimes Kain had been used as a courier; never to far places or to the Academy, they didn't trust him enough for that. But occasionally, when none of the regular couriers were available, he'd been sent to the smaller temples in the nearby villages.
The messages they sent with him were of the simple variety. Reminders of what tithes were owed, notice of upcoming census, never anything to do with magic or policy.
Yet surely such messages were sent. They just didn't trust him to carry them. He wondered what one must do to earn that kind of trust. It dawned on him slowly that none of the Loah'tah would ever be trusted with the secrets of the Kuan'tah.
But the Kuan'tah seldom traveled. So how did such things get carried to the other temples? The mage-caste was constantly researching new magic. He knew because sometimes one of the slaves was taken away to be used in their experiments. And the findings of their research had to be communicated to the other mages. At the least they would notify the Emperor. Everything was reported to the Tah'el. But how?
"Back to your tablet scribe," Cuanth's voice exploded in Kain's head. The remonstration was painful, producing a splitting headache. "I will not warn you again."
But Kain only heard one word. Tablet. It set off an explosion in his head. Somehow the mage's were communicating with the symbols that the scribes copied for them.
He grew excited with the idea. If there were messages hidden in the clay then there had to be a way to understand them. If he could only figure out how to comprehend it then he would be privy to the Kuan'tah's secrets.
The pain that exploded in his head erased all thought. "I warned you twice. You will be punished."
#
The Confine, as the Loah'tah referred to the mage's cruel punishment, was usually enough to drive a man into complete insanity. Months alone in the darkness could even kill a person. But for Kain the time alone was welcomed.
Obsessed with his realization he used his imprisonment to contemplate the messages that he had been unknowingly copying his entire adult life. Without any distractions he was able to reach a level of focus that was nearly mystical.
For a long time he made little progress. He analyzed the idea from every angle but could find no way to move forward. What he needed was a teacher, and as Loah'tah that was the one thing he would never have.
How do words become images? The question tortured him in his sleep and in his waking. The easy solution was that they drew pictures of the words, yet none of the carvings he had made resembled anything at all. Besides, there were many words that could not be drawn. How did one make a picture for words like "love" or "work"?
So he turned his attention to the words themselves. Maybe if he spoke them enough the answer would become clear. At first he imagined his dialogues, and drew upon memory to "listen" to conversations he had been heard in the past. But this was harder than he thought, so he took to speaking them outloud.
Anyone listening in would have thought he'd fallen prey to madness in the dark, and for a while he teetered dangerously close. The words began to lose all meaning as he repeated them over and over, becoming instead an endless litany of sounds.
But as the words themselves became less and less real to him he achieved another flash of insight. The easiest way to represent speech would be to make symbols for the sounds that made it up.
He began to listen closer, purposefully discarding the meaning of the words, and listening instead for patterns in the noise. Eventually he found them. Some sounds were most common in the middle of words, some only found at the beginning. And some words found their way into practically every sentence, while others were seldom used at all.
By the time Cuanth came to drag him back to work Kain had tables and tables of sounds and their relationships memorized. He was ready to return to the clay. Kain the scribe would wring their secrets from them.
#
"But aren't you sick of the way they treat us?" Kain was forced to restrain himself from shouting. "I'm tired of being less than a person."
"I hate it as much as you do Kain," Bran told him. Several years younger than Kain, Bran was already a much better scribe. Ever since Banta had left him, Bran had become the closest thing to a friend that Kain had.
"Then help me change it," Kain did shout this time.
"How Kain? Will we fight their magic with our sharpened sticks and wet clay?"
"With clay yes. But not how you think." Kain was getting excited. He had to win people to his cause or everything he'd done was worthless. If he couldn't convince Bran he'd never be able to convince anyone else.
"What are you talking about Kain?" Bran liked his eccentric older friend and trusted him enough to sneak out with him to talk. But he hadn't known what Kain wanted to talk about. If he had he'd never have shown up. He was already at risk. It was death to leave the Temple without permission. But this kind of talk was heresy. He wouldn't just be killed, he'd be tortured.
Bran got nervous as Kain didn't seem to be answering his question. Instead he was muttering to himself and waving his hands about wildly. Maybe the rumors were true and Kain really had gone insane while he was in Confinement. Bran had always thought him to be just odd. This was way beyond odd though.
Suddenly brilliant light cut into the darkness that had descended on the wooded area behind the Temple. For a second he thought they'd been found out. Bran fell to his knees and closed his eyes, knowing the mage would turn off his mind soon.
Bran, look up at me. The voice inside his head was Kain's. He opened his eyes, startled by the intrusion. Kain stood before him, rainbow's pouring forth from his hands to light up the forest around them with dazzling colors.
It's our time Bran. This is how we'll change things. Will you help me?
"How did you? I mean, how can you do that? You're not Kuan'tah," Bran's voice stumbled over the words.
Kain let the colors fade away, bringing night back to the forest.
"It's all on the tablets. All of their secrets. Magic, philosophy, politics, I've managed to learn all of it from them. I can teach you," Kain sounded sure of himself now.
"But they'll kill you when they find out. Loah'tah can't learn magic, that's blasphemy. And what do you mean it's on the tablets?"
"The tablets have words on them. Those pictures we copy, those are symbols. They have meaning. Do you really think the mage's memorize all of it?" Kain asked.
"No, I guess not. You can teach me?" Bran was getting caught up in Kain's excitement.
"Yes, but first we have to get back to our dorms. If we get caught the rebellion will fall apart before it has even begun," Kain told him. "It's taken me nearly ten years to master their secrets. Both of us can wait until tomorrow to start planning. Meet me out here again, but don't be so late this time."
"I'll be here," Bran told him. Already he was excited. This was more than he had ever dreamed of.
As he walked back to the dorms he thought over everything that had happened tonight. "Rebellion," he whispered to himself. The word sounded delicious on his lips.
#
The rebellion began, not with the taking up of arms or the rising of the small-folk, but with whispered words in dark corners. Kain had aged many years as he watched the knowledge he'd uncovered spread like a disease amongst the Loah'tah. Always it was met with disbelief, but once proven even the most conservative was eager to learn.
Always the teachings began with the cloud spell. Only magic could shield their mind's from the Kuan'tah. If even one person let the secret slip they would be destroyed and their hopes of emancipation would be shattered.
Kain and his conspirators searched constantly amongst the tablets for new power. They needed to be prepared for every eventuality, and that could only happen if they knew as much about magic as the Tah'el herself.
Kain waited and learned. His elders died away, some from age others at the hands of the mages. He became head scribe, and was trusted with the most secret and ancient tablets to copy.
Always he read them, as he copied and when he could smuggle them away. Often, as he was excited by some new idea or concept it became difficult to disguise his literacy. Sometimes the only thing that saved him was the mage's firm belief in the ignorance of their servants.
When he discovered one day that he was copying the history of the Kuan'tah, from their beginnings to present, he knew he had to get the tablet away from the temple. Never a simple matter, it was made more dangerous by the tablet's antiquity. If he mishandled it in any way the entire thing would crumble to unreadable dust.
He took a great chance by feigning illness. To be sick too often was to invite the mage's to take your life. Luckily he was still considered incredibly skilled. They would not wipe out his mind yet. As long as he could put stick to clay and train the young scribes better than anyone else his position was secured.
With the tablets under his robe, wrapped in leaves and secured with stout rope, he left the Temple clutching his stomach. Instead of heading for the dormitory, he cast a glance over his shoulder and ran for the safety of the forest. Only deep within its living sanctuary would he be free to remove the history and read too his content.
When he sat down on the forest floor the world around him was soon forgotten. The sun climbed into the sky and sank behind the hills, and Kain read on. He conjured light to read by and munched on berries to sate his thirst and hunger. The only time he paused in his reading was to readjust his ancient limbs or rest his eyes when they grew to strained.
What he found, stated clearly on the page, both aroused and horrified him. The Kuan'tah had once been enslaved by a race of warriors. For thousands of years they had done the farming for these people until one of them had discovered the secrets of magic. His accidental discovery had turned into a massive uprising. No sword could stand against fire called from the sky or invisible shields that held whole armies in place.
Within months the war had been won and the Kuan'tah found themselves the masters and the other race the slaves. They renamed the people Loah'tah and bred them like cattle to meet all their needs. It had been that way ever since.
Kain read these words and slowly came to grasp their implications. It was clear that the Kuan'tah had never intended to force his people into slavery- that was just an outgrowth of the war. And if the Loah'tah were to revolt they were destined to repeat the cycle, or destroy both races in the process.
He gathered the tablet under his cloak, ready to hurry back to the dormitory. All plans had to be halted until he could find a solution. Even though part of him felt the Kuan'tah deserved to be punished for their wrongs, another part refused to become what he had loathed his whole life. With a snap of his fingers he extinguished the light he'd created to read by.
"Cornered at last," Cuanth's voice came from behind a tree. Kain froze like a rabbit will when a hound begins to sniff the air for its scent. "So this is what you've been hiding? A secret sneak-away spot in the woods. What do you do out here? Steal food, I suppose, and come out here to eat it. Out here where you're jealous brothers won't turn you in. I've known you were no good for a long time, since I had you thrown in the Confine. Before I turn your mind off, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"I just come out here to think, that's all," Kain said as he finished securing the tablet beneath his robe.
"Loah'tah don't think. Tah didn't grant you're worthless kind the ability. Now show me what you've got hidden under your shirt," as he spoke he stepped out into the clearing and reached for the arm Kain had tucked inside the folds of his robe.
In reaction Kain sent a charge from his arm into Cuanth's hand. It was a weak one but the mage jerked back like he'd been burnt.
"What did you do to me you whoreson?" Cuanth stepped towards him, probing with his mind at the same time.
Kain brought his mental shield into place and took a step back. Cuanth lunged at him. Without thinking, Kain brought up a wall of fire between them.
"How in the Eight Hells did you just do that?" Cuanth's earlier arrogance was replaced by something that sounded like pure fear.
"I can read," Kain stated it simply. There was nothing he could do to hide it now.
"Abomination," Cuanth screamed. "You'll be erased. Mind and body. You cannot exist."
"I do exist and I'm stronger than you. I can feel your will Cuanth. If you try to go to the other mages I'll stop you," Kain's said.
"This cannot be allowed. You will be stopped. When my brother's come looking for me they will destroy you," Cuanth shook his head and waved his arms wildly.
"Maybe. But I am not the only Loah'tah that can read, or perform your magics. I have taught all that I have learned to others. And the Loah'tah are multitude. If this goes further, if we do not reach reconciliation tonight, there will be war. We outnumber you many times. The Kuan'tah will be destroyed, or enslaved," Kain let the fire die down a little so he could see the other mage's face.
"There can be no reconciliation. We are Kuan'tah, magic is our birthright. You're an aberration. We will defeat you, we have divine right," his words were spoken without conviction.
"Divine right?" Kain asked, his voice rising. He took the tablets from underneath his robe and tossed them across to the other man. "You took an empire with force and we can take it back the same way. Read the words of your ancestors if you do not believe me. Your reign has come to an end. But right now we have an opportunity, the two of us. We could be the fathers of what could be a golden age. Or you could refuse to listen and be the cause of your people's downfall."
"You speak of opportunities and choices, yet what choice have you given me? I could never live in a world where Loah'tah are free to perform magic, yet you threaten me with rebellion. I would rather die than give in to your intimidation," Cuanth told him.
"We are old men Cuanth, soon to die anyway. I will never see the rewards of my labors and you shall not be long in a world of Loah'tah as equals. Yet tonight we have a decision to make. The fate of your race lies upon your shoulders. Will you give their lives as well?"
"Talk to me then, old man. Tell me what you would have me do?" Cuanth's eyes had grown shrewd suddenly.
"Do not think you can betray me mage. There is only one way to save your people. Listen carefully, and I will tell you how," Kain's voice echoed in the forest, drowning out the insects and birds. He explained his plan to Cuanth, taking his time to do so. As he outlined what he saw as the only hope, the older mage began to see the wisdom in it. Slowly, as they discussed what had to be done, his resentment faded into a grudging respect. Whatever happened after this night, Cuanth knew that he had been beaten by a genius.
#
The hot sun baked everything. There was not a pavilion large enough to house all the people who had come to hear the Tah'el speak. As Tah's representative on earth none refused to answer his summons. Loah'tah, both servant and slave caste had showed up in legion, along with every Kuan'tah able to stand. Only the very aged or sick were exempt from his summons.
So they stood together in the sun, sweating and stinking, each of them tense. While the majority of them were aware of the actions that had brought them to this day, none but the Tah'el and Tah himself knew what would be done today.
The Tah'el stood up from his throne. It had been placed on a dais constructed for this event. No person was allowed to stand as tall as the Tah'el, not for any reason.
His golden robes shone brilliantly as he stood, the crown on his head glittering like a jewel. He reflected the light so brightly that many had to turn away, eyes watering from the intensity of it.
"Approach me," his voice rang out loudly over the crowd.
Two old men stepped forward together. One of them so infirm he had to lean on the other for support. When they reached the foot of the dais they fell to their feet before the Tah'el.
"You may stand," he instructed them. They rose from their prostration slowly but with grace.
"Loah'tah, you have forced me to make a decision that no man should have to make. This day I must choose whether I will cast aside thousands of years of tradition. I must say that if you did not hold a threat over my head I would have you tortured and punished for your insolence. But you do hold that threat, and I find myself at the mercy of those who have been as oxen to me. Yet you have been benevolent also, risking much to find a path that offers hope to all of us. I am amazed that such foresight arose from your people."
Kain bowed his head at this, unsure of what to think, but humbled by the Tah'el's magnificence.
He continued, "Cuanth, you cast aside all loyalty to conspire with this Loah'tah for years. With an arrogance that I have never before encountered you worked to force me, your Tah'el, to take actions I would never have considered. For that you may have jeopardized your soul for all eternity. What we do today may very well be blasphemy. Even so, I can see that your intentions were good and that everything you have done and sacrificed has been for your people."
Tears formed in Cuanth's eyes. The years spent plotting with Kain; betraying his own people, yet working to save them, had been harder than anything he could have ever been asked to do.
"I make this choice not easily, and I know not what will become of it. Ultimately though, I think that I have never had a choice at all. From this day forward there will be no caste. All Loah'tah are Kuan'tah and they are free to live their lives as they please. They can study in the temple's or own land. They can hold public office and are subject to no law but Tah's. Until the moon no longer chases the sun across the sky, all people will be equal," he finished speaking and let the words hang over all who had gathered there.
For a long time no one spoke, and then cries went up in the crowd. Some of disbelief, some of joy, some of anger and some of surprise, the people responded with shock.
Kain fell down to the ground, as if to bow before the Tah'el once again. He'd fought away his age for many years. It had been a struggle but he knew that he had to see everything through.
Cuanth collapsed beside him, worn even harder by the time and the trials behind them.
"We have seen it. Seen your dream through," Cuanth placed his hand on his friend's back.
"Now we may go to Tah," Kain felt himself slipping away from the crowd already. Everything but Cuanth's presence was already distant.
"We go to Him as equals then. Equals and brothers," his voice had grown raspy and his breathing began to slow.
"Brothers," Kain said as the crowd drifted away. He would leave it to them to finish, for the world had been remade.
"Why, Banta?" the young man asked.
The elderly woman glanced at the door before she whispered, "Because the Kuan'tah will never let you go."
"But what gives them the right to make me do this?" Kain looked up at her, his eyes flashing curiosity and indignation. He gestured at the table in front of him with his hands.
"They are Kuan'tah. We are Loah'tah," she pointed to the clay tablet in front of him.
"Now get back to work before Cuanth comes. He will punish you if he sees that you have not been working."
Kain bent back to his work. He tried to concentrate on copying the images over onto the fresh clay but his mind wouldn't cooperate. His pictures never looked close enough to the originals; straight lines too curved, angles not accurate. He pressed his stick into the tablet, bearing down hard on it in frustration. It snapped, sending the bottom half flying across the room.
"Damn the Gods," he cursed and threw the other half of his stick at the wall.
"Hush Kain, don't speak so," Banta said, "Your too young for such blasphemy."
"I just can't do this anymore. I'm not cut out to be a scribe. Why can't I go to the Academy? I want to be Kuan'tah. To learn magick and fencing," he stood up and raised one of his hands, curling it into a fist.
"You were born to our caste Kain, you have to accept that. Just be glad you aren't Jaba'tah or even slave-caste. How would you like to spend your entire life as little more than a beast of burden?"
"But can't you see? That's what we are. Our burden is just these damn images we have to carve for them over and over. We don't even know what they use them for."
"Oh Kain, what does it matter? There is nothing you can do to change the way things are," she softened her voice. It hurt her to watch the young man suffer so much. She wasn't related to him by blood but she was the only person in the world that cared about him.
"Banta, I swear that some day I will change things. I'm going to create a world in which anyone can be anything," his voice carried steel in it.
"Don't let Cuanth hear you speaking so, he'd have you lashed for it," she sighed. There was so much fire and iron in the boy. The Kuan'tah would beat it down though, eventually Kain would be as resigned to his fate as the rest of them. A shame, she thought, that he should be wasted in this way.
"I know Banta, don't worry. I should probably get back to work on this tablet," he sat back down.
"I'm finished for the day. Why don't you go outside and I'll do some of yours for you?"
"No Banta, you go take your supper. I'll get this done somehow," he took a new stick from the table and began to copy the meaningless images again.
#
Kain dragged himself back from the daydream. The pain was still too fresh to reminisce about Banta.
"Stop wasting time scribe," the Mage's voice had the sound of dead branches breaking underfoot.
Nodding, Kain hunched over his work and began to copy. He'd grown much better at his work in the five years that he'd been here. Still, he wasn't nearly as good as Banta had been, even before they'd taken her away.
The old woman might have had hands bent by arthritis but she was still the best scribe in the temple. If it didn't hurt so much he would have laughed at the stupidity of the Kuan'tah. One day they'd seen her massaging her stiff fingers and without even a word they'd snuffed out her mind.
Kain gritted his teeth and stared at the next figure. It was one of the hardest to imitate, with more curves than any of the others, but he'd repeated it so many times that he didn't even have to look at twice to trace it out in the clay.
Why do I do this? He asked himself. What is the point of repeating these same pictures over and over? Does it even have any meaning?
He gave himself back to the work for a while, trying not to think about how purposeless it all seemed. Copying the tablets over and over so the Temple could send them out to the Academy and some of the other temples.
Why do they send them? What use do they have?
He mulled over the other things the Kuan'tah sent out. Never food or supplies, each temple was self-sufficient. The Loah'tah were used to provide those things. It was always magical items, the tablets, and messages.
Sometimes Kain had been used as a courier; never to far places or to the Academy, they didn't trust him enough for that. But occasionally, when none of the regular couriers were available, he'd been sent to the smaller temples in the nearby villages.
The messages they sent with him were of the simple variety. Reminders of what tithes were owed, notice of upcoming census, never anything to do with magic or policy.
Yet surely such messages were sent. They just didn't trust him to carry them. He wondered what one must do to earn that kind of trust. It dawned on him slowly that none of the Loah'tah would ever be trusted with the secrets of the Kuan'tah.
But the Kuan'tah seldom traveled. So how did such things get carried to the other temples? The mage-caste was constantly researching new magic. He knew because sometimes one of the slaves was taken away to be used in their experiments. And the findings of their research had to be communicated to the other mages. At the least they would notify the Emperor. Everything was reported to the Tah'el. But how?
"Back to your tablet scribe," Cuanth's voice exploded in Kain's head. The remonstration was painful, producing a splitting headache. "I will not warn you again."
But Kain only heard one word. Tablet. It set off an explosion in his head. Somehow the mage's were communicating with the symbols that the scribes copied for them.
He grew excited with the idea. If there were messages hidden in the clay then there had to be a way to understand them. If he could only figure out how to comprehend it then he would be privy to the Kuan'tah's secrets.
The pain that exploded in his head erased all thought. "I warned you twice. You will be punished."
#
The Confine, as the Loah'tah referred to the mage's cruel punishment, was usually enough to drive a man into complete insanity. Months alone in the darkness could even kill a person. But for Kain the time alone was welcomed.
Obsessed with his realization he used his imprisonment to contemplate the messages that he had been unknowingly copying his entire adult life. Without any distractions he was able to reach a level of focus that was nearly mystical.
For a long time he made little progress. He analyzed the idea from every angle but could find no way to move forward. What he needed was a teacher, and as Loah'tah that was the one thing he would never have.
How do words become images? The question tortured him in his sleep and in his waking. The easy solution was that they drew pictures of the words, yet none of the carvings he had made resembled anything at all. Besides, there were many words that could not be drawn. How did one make a picture for words like "love" or "work"?
So he turned his attention to the words themselves. Maybe if he spoke them enough the answer would become clear. At first he imagined his dialogues, and drew upon memory to "listen" to conversations he had been heard in the past. But this was harder than he thought, so he took to speaking them outloud.
Anyone listening in would have thought he'd fallen prey to madness in the dark, and for a while he teetered dangerously close. The words began to lose all meaning as he repeated them over and over, becoming instead an endless litany of sounds.
But as the words themselves became less and less real to him he achieved another flash of insight. The easiest way to represent speech would be to make symbols for the sounds that made it up.
He began to listen closer, purposefully discarding the meaning of the words, and listening instead for patterns in the noise. Eventually he found them. Some sounds were most common in the middle of words, some only found at the beginning. And some words found their way into practically every sentence, while others were seldom used at all.
By the time Cuanth came to drag him back to work Kain had tables and tables of sounds and their relationships memorized. He was ready to return to the clay. Kain the scribe would wring their secrets from them.
#
"But aren't you sick of the way they treat us?" Kain was forced to restrain himself from shouting. "I'm tired of being less than a person."
"I hate it as much as you do Kain," Bran told him. Several years younger than Kain, Bran was already a much better scribe. Ever since Banta had left him, Bran had become the closest thing to a friend that Kain had.
"Then help me change it," Kain did shout this time.
"How Kain? Will we fight their magic with our sharpened sticks and wet clay?"
"With clay yes. But not how you think." Kain was getting excited. He had to win people to his cause or everything he'd done was worthless. If he couldn't convince Bran he'd never be able to convince anyone else.
"What are you talking about Kain?" Bran liked his eccentric older friend and trusted him enough to sneak out with him to talk. But he hadn't known what Kain wanted to talk about. If he had he'd never have shown up. He was already at risk. It was death to leave the Temple without permission. But this kind of talk was heresy. He wouldn't just be killed, he'd be tortured.
Bran got nervous as Kain didn't seem to be answering his question. Instead he was muttering to himself and waving his hands about wildly. Maybe the rumors were true and Kain really had gone insane while he was in Confinement. Bran had always thought him to be just odd. This was way beyond odd though.
Suddenly brilliant light cut into the darkness that had descended on the wooded area behind the Temple. For a second he thought they'd been found out. Bran fell to his knees and closed his eyes, knowing the mage would turn off his mind soon.
Bran, look up at me. The voice inside his head was Kain's. He opened his eyes, startled by the intrusion. Kain stood before him, rainbow's pouring forth from his hands to light up the forest around them with dazzling colors.
It's our time Bran. This is how we'll change things. Will you help me?
"How did you? I mean, how can you do that? You're not Kuan'tah," Bran's voice stumbled over the words.
Kain let the colors fade away, bringing night back to the forest.
"It's all on the tablets. All of their secrets. Magic, philosophy, politics, I've managed to learn all of it from them. I can teach you," Kain sounded sure of himself now.
"But they'll kill you when they find out. Loah'tah can't learn magic, that's blasphemy. And what do you mean it's on the tablets?"
"The tablets have words on them. Those pictures we copy, those are symbols. They have meaning. Do you really think the mage's memorize all of it?" Kain asked.
"No, I guess not. You can teach me?" Bran was getting caught up in Kain's excitement.
"Yes, but first we have to get back to our dorms. If we get caught the rebellion will fall apart before it has even begun," Kain told him. "It's taken me nearly ten years to master their secrets. Both of us can wait until tomorrow to start planning. Meet me out here again, but don't be so late this time."
"I'll be here," Bran told him. Already he was excited. This was more than he had ever dreamed of.
As he walked back to the dorms he thought over everything that had happened tonight. "Rebellion," he whispered to himself. The word sounded delicious on his lips.
#
The rebellion began, not with the taking up of arms or the rising of the small-folk, but with whispered words in dark corners. Kain had aged many years as he watched the knowledge he'd uncovered spread like a disease amongst the Loah'tah. Always it was met with disbelief, but once proven even the most conservative was eager to learn.
Always the teachings began with the cloud spell. Only magic could shield their mind's from the Kuan'tah. If even one person let the secret slip they would be destroyed and their hopes of emancipation would be shattered.
Kain and his conspirators searched constantly amongst the tablets for new power. They needed to be prepared for every eventuality, and that could only happen if they knew as much about magic as the Tah'el herself.
Kain waited and learned. His elders died away, some from age others at the hands of the mages. He became head scribe, and was trusted with the most secret and ancient tablets to copy.
Always he read them, as he copied and when he could smuggle them away. Often, as he was excited by some new idea or concept it became difficult to disguise his literacy. Sometimes the only thing that saved him was the mage's firm belief in the ignorance of their servants.
When he discovered one day that he was copying the history of the Kuan'tah, from their beginnings to present, he knew he had to get the tablet away from the temple. Never a simple matter, it was made more dangerous by the tablet's antiquity. If he mishandled it in any way the entire thing would crumble to unreadable dust.
He took a great chance by feigning illness. To be sick too often was to invite the mage's to take your life. Luckily he was still considered incredibly skilled. They would not wipe out his mind yet. As long as he could put stick to clay and train the young scribes better than anyone else his position was secured.
With the tablets under his robe, wrapped in leaves and secured with stout rope, he left the Temple clutching his stomach. Instead of heading for the dormitory, he cast a glance over his shoulder and ran for the safety of the forest. Only deep within its living sanctuary would he be free to remove the history and read too his content.
When he sat down on the forest floor the world around him was soon forgotten. The sun climbed into the sky and sank behind the hills, and Kain read on. He conjured light to read by and munched on berries to sate his thirst and hunger. The only time he paused in his reading was to readjust his ancient limbs or rest his eyes when they grew to strained.
What he found, stated clearly on the page, both aroused and horrified him. The Kuan'tah had once been enslaved by a race of warriors. For thousands of years they had done the farming for these people until one of them had discovered the secrets of magic. His accidental discovery had turned into a massive uprising. No sword could stand against fire called from the sky or invisible shields that held whole armies in place.
Within months the war had been won and the Kuan'tah found themselves the masters and the other race the slaves. They renamed the people Loah'tah and bred them like cattle to meet all their needs. It had been that way ever since.
Kain read these words and slowly came to grasp their implications. It was clear that the Kuan'tah had never intended to force his people into slavery- that was just an outgrowth of the war. And if the Loah'tah were to revolt they were destined to repeat the cycle, or destroy both races in the process.
He gathered the tablet under his cloak, ready to hurry back to the dormitory. All plans had to be halted until he could find a solution. Even though part of him felt the Kuan'tah deserved to be punished for their wrongs, another part refused to become what he had loathed his whole life. With a snap of his fingers he extinguished the light he'd created to read by.
"Cornered at last," Cuanth's voice came from behind a tree. Kain froze like a rabbit will when a hound begins to sniff the air for its scent. "So this is what you've been hiding? A secret sneak-away spot in the woods. What do you do out here? Steal food, I suppose, and come out here to eat it. Out here where you're jealous brothers won't turn you in. I've known you were no good for a long time, since I had you thrown in the Confine. Before I turn your mind off, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"I just come out here to think, that's all," Kain said as he finished securing the tablet beneath his robe.
"Loah'tah don't think. Tah didn't grant you're worthless kind the ability. Now show me what you've got hidden under your shirt," as he spoke he stepped out into the clearing and reached for the arm Kain had tucked inside the folds of his robe.
In reaction Kain sent a charge from his arm into Cuanth's hand. It was a weak one but the mage jerked back like he'd been burnt.
"What did you do to me you whoreson?" Cuanth stepped towards him, probing with his mind at the same time.
Kain brought his mental shield into place and took a step back. Cuanth lunged at him. Without thinking, Kain brought up a wall of fire between them.
"How in the Eight Hells did you just do that?" Cuanth's earlier arrogance was replaced by something that sounded like pure fear.
"I can read," Kain stated it simply. There was nothing he could do to hide it now.
"Abomination," Cuanth screamed. "You'll be erased. Mind and body. You cannot exist."
"I do exist and I'm stronger than you. I can feel your will Cuanth. If you try to go to the other mages I'll stop you," Kain's said.
"This cannot be allowed. You will be stopped. When my brother's come looking for me they will destroy you," Cuanth shook his head and waved his arms wildly.
"Maybe. But I am not the only Loah'tah that can read, or perform your magics. I have taught all that I have learned to others. And the Loah'tah are multitude. If this goes further, if we do not reach reconciliation tonight, there will be war. We outnumber you many times. The Kuan'tah will be destroyed, or enslaved," Kain let the fire die down a little so he could see the other mage's face.
"There can be no reconciliation. We are Kuan'tah, magic is our birthright. You're an aberration. We will defeat you, we have divine right," his words were spoken without conviction.
"Divine right?" Kain asked, his voice rising. He took the tablets from underneath his robe and tossed them across to the other man. "You took an empire with force and we can take it back the same way. Read the words of your ancestors if you do not believe me. Your reign has come to an end. But right now we have an opportunity, the two of us. We could be the fathers of what could be a golden age. Or you could refuse to listen and be the cause of your people's downfall."
"You speak of opportunities and choices, yet what choice have you given me? I could never live in a world where Loah'tah are free to perform magic, yet you threaten me with rebellion. I would rather die than give in to your intimidation," Cuanth told him.
"We are old men Cuanth, soon to die anyway. I will never see the rewards of my labors and you shall not be long in a world of Loah'tah as equals. Yet tonight we have a decision to make. The fate of your race lies upon your shoulders. Will you give their lives as well?"
"Talk to me then, old man. Tell me what you would have me do?" Cuanth's eyes had grown shrewd suddenly.
"Do not think you can betray me mage. There is only one way to save your people. Listen carefully, and I will tell you how," Kain's voice echoed in the forest, drowning out the insects and birds. He explained his plan to Cuanth, taking his time to do so. As he outlined what he saw as the only hope, the older mage began to see the wisdom in it. Slowly, as they discussed what had to be done, his resentment faded into a grudging respect. Whatever happened after this night, Cuanth knew that he had been beaten by a genius.
#
The hot sun baked everything. There was not a pavilion large enough to house all the people who had come to hear the Tah'el speak. As Tah's representative on earth none refused to answer his summons. Loah'tah, both servant and slave caste had showed up in legion, along with every Kuan'tah able to stand. Only the very aged or sick were exempt from his summons.
So they stood together in the sun, sweating and stinking, each of them tense. While the majority of them were aware of the actions that had brought them to this day, none but the Tah'el and Tah himself knew what would be done today.
The Tah'el stood up from his throne. It had been placed on a dais constructed for this event. No person was allowed to stand as tall as the Tah'el, not for any reason.
His golden robes shone brilliantly as he stood, the crown on his head glittering like a jewel. He reflected the light so brightly that many had to turn away, eyes watering from the intensity of it.
"Approach me," his voice rang out loudly over the crowd.
Two old men stepped forward together. One of them so infirm he had to lean on the other for support. When they reached the foot of the dais they fell to their feet before the Tah'el.
"You may stand," he instructed them. They rose from their prostration slowly but with grace.
"Loah'tah, you have forced me to make a decision that no man should have to make. This day I must choose whether I will cast aside thousands of years of tradition. I must say that if you did not hold a threat over my head I would have you tortured and punished for your insolence. But you do hold that threat, and I find myself at the mercy of those who have been as oxen to me. Yet you have been benevolent also, risking much to find a path that offers hope to all of us. I am amazed that such foresight arose from your people."
Kain bowed his head at this, unsure of what to think, but humbled by the Tah'el's magnificence.
He continued, "Cuanth, you cast aside all loyalty to conspire with this Loah'tah for years. With an arrogance that I have never before encountered you worked to force me, your Tah'el, to take actions I would never have considered. For that you may have jeopardized your soul for all eternity. What we do today may very well be blasphemy. Even so, I can see that your intentions were good and that everything you have done and sacrificed has been for your people."
Tears formed in Cuanth's eyes. The years spent plotting with Kain; betraying his own people, yet working to save them, had been harder than anything he could have ever been asked to do.
"I make this choice not easily, and I know not what will become of it. Ultimately though, I think that I have never had a choice at all. From this day forward there will be no caste. All Loah'tah are Kuan'tah and they are free to live their lives as they please. They can study in the temple's or own land. They can hold public office and are subject to no law but Tah's. Until the moon no longer chases the sun across the sky, all people will be equal," he finished speaking and let the words hang over all who had gathered there.
For a long time no one spoke, and then cries went up in the crowd. Some of disbelief, some of joy, some of anger and some of surprise, the people responded with shock.
Kain fell down to the ground, as if to bow before the Tah'el once again. He'd fought away his age for many years. It had been a struggle but he knew that he had to see everything through.
Cuanth collapsed beside him, worn even harder by the time and the trials behind them.
"We have seen it. Seen your dream through," Cuanth placed his hand on his friend's back.
"Now we may go to Tah," Kain felt himself slipping away from the crowd already. Everything but Cuanth's presence was already distant.
"We go to Him as equals then. Equals and brothers," his voice had grown raspy and his breathing began to slow.
"Brothers," Kain said as the crowd drifted away. He would leave it to them to finish, for the world had been remade.
now if only some of the places on our world would realise the same thing.
