Awakeners by Sheri S Tepper

“The Awakeners tell us most people believe,” Tharius had answered. It was lame, and he’d known it.

“The Awakeners tell you most people believe, and they tell the people the Holy Sorters exist, and they tell their colleagues one thing and their Superiors something else. I only knew one Awakener in all my years who would tell the truth. He’s a man named Haranjus Pandel, from Thou-ne. He’s a cynic, Tharius, and an honest man.

“But as for the rest of Northshore, it’s a tinder pile, as I said. People have no hope for the future. They are ready to immolate themselves if it would hatch that hope. We have more Jarb Houses now than we had a hundred years ago, and we need twice as many. People see the workers shambling around, and something—perhaps the way one of them moves or the tilt of a head—makes them think maybe Mother is under that wrapper, or Daddy, or sister or daughter or son. Or they think of themselves there, not peacefully laid away but staggering around, stinking, hated by everyone. Then madness, Tharius Don. Madness. And only the pipe gives them any hope then.”

“Your hallucinogenic pipe.” Tharius had smiled a little bitterly.

“The inverse of that,” Chiles Medman had replied. “An inverse hallucinogenic, Tharius Don. A pipe that lets them see the dead for what they are, and the moons for what they are, and the fliers for what they are, so that they need not struggle to believe what their eyes and noses tell them is ridiculous. It is the struggle to believe which maddens, Tharius Don. The wildest of the Jarb House Mendicants come from the most devout homes. …”

Something had happened then to interrupt their conversation, and Tharius had not talked with him since except for the odd word at ceremonial events. Still, and despite Tharius’s own rudeness on that occasion, he counted on Medman’s support. When the time came.

“If the time comes,” he said to himself bitterly. “If the time comes.” The strike was as prepared at this moment as it would ever be. He was making excuses these days to delay it as he had been for months. He knew it. He didn’t know why. “When the time comes,” he said again, not convincing himself.

The council members resumed their places, now with tea steaming before them. The niche was silent. Shavian rubbed his forehead, reminding himself. “Ah, what were we saying? Yes. Pamra Don to be summoned to the Chancery. Any comment?”

Chiles Medman rose, was noticed, said, “I would support a meeting with Pamra Don here in the Chancery. The fact that this crusade has moved the people with such fervor indicates a level of dissatisfaction among them we should be aware of. For our own sakes, as well as theirs.” He sat down again, having started them off like hunting birds after a swig-bug, darting here and there.

“Dissatisfaction,’ bellowed Gendra Mitiar. “I’ll give them dissatisfaction!” ‘

“Hush,” Bossit demanded. “The governor general of the Jarb Mendicants has not said there is an insurrection. He has said ‘dissatisfaction,’ and I agree we should know of any such. What do you hear of dissatisfaction, Mendicant?”

“Murmurings,” Chiles replied, as though indifferent. “The ‘disappearances’ seem more noticed of late. Taken more account of.”

“They have been no more than usual,” Gendra said stiffly. “About two a month from each township. Mostly old people.”

“They used to be mostly old people.” Chiles nodded. “Of late, there have been many young ones. When old people vanish, it is a short wonder. When young ones go, people grieve longer. And talk longer.”

“The Towers have strict orders …” She fell silent, suddenly suspicious. Indeed, the Towers had very strict orders concerning those, recruited for Talker meat. And yet, if the Talkers offered … if the Talkers offered a sufficient reward directly to the Superior of a Tower, might not that Superior be bought? The idea was shocking, and terrible and inevitable. Her eyes narrowed.

“Do you allege malfeasance?” she challenged Chiles Medman. “If so, where? What Tower?”

He shook his head, took his pipe from his pocket, and lit it to peer at her through the smoke. What he saw evidently reassured him, for he smiled. “I have no knowledge, Dame Marshal of the Towers. Only murmurings. Which is why I suggest bringing Pamra Don to the Chancery. Let us ask her.”