Awakeners by Sheri S Tepper

In Crisomon a great pyre had been built, and in that township every man, woman, and child danced around the pyre as the bodies of the workers were burned to ashes. In Crisomon, conversion to the cause had been total and unanimous.

Elsewhere that was not so. In some townships the Awakeners were vigilant or wakeful and came out of the Towers to defend the pits. In a few places the Awakeners prevailed, but in most the Rivermen won and the corpses of Awakeners were merely added to other corpses which had to be disposed of before dawn. Dawn.

Worker pits empty when the sun rose. In B’for, just east of Thou-ne, an Awakener returned in some haste to the Tower to speak with the Superior, who was in company with the lady Kesseret, said to be Superior of a Tower farther east who had come to B’for on urgent business and was receiving Lord Deign’s hospitality before going on.

The Awakener was panting so much it was hard to discern the message that the pit was empty.

The Superior was silent, but the lady Kesseret seemed to understand what had been said.

“Then you will not need to go to the fields today,” she said calmly. There were great wrinkles around her eyes and lips, and her voice was thready. “Rejoice.”

“But, but,” the young Awakener stuttered, “but, what shall I do?”

“Go to the chapel and pray,” she suggested.

“What should I pray for?”

“Enlightenment. Patience. Resignation.”

Were these not what she herself had prayed for? She searched Deign’s face for signs of shock. None. Both of them had been ready for this. Now it had happened, and she must plan to leave B’for to travel westward to Thou-ne. In a few days or weeks, if they were permitted to live that long. She would not fail to be in that place where Tharius Don would come for her or send her word.

In a few towns the word had not arrived in time, or there had been no Rivermen to receive it. In a few towns there had been no strike, no disturbance at all. The Servants of Abricor fed as usual in the bone pits, looking up with surprise to see their fellows from neighboring townships circling high above, dropping down to sit with them in long, dusty lines upon the pit edges, talking of this thing.

“No workers in our town,” the fliers said. “No workers.” “Sometimes there are no workers,” they told one another. “Sometimes it happens.”

“Not often,” they agreed. “Not so many places all at once.” It was almost noon of the day after the strike before they sent some among them off to tell the Talkers at the Talons.

“How long?” the Rivermen asked one another. “How long will it take before they do something?”

“Pile the fish upon the wharves and wait,” they said to each other. “Each day, fresh fish, there for the eating.”

It took only another day before Servants descended upon the towns, snatching at children or smaller adults. In Bans one among them distracted a group of townsmen while others made off with a living, pleading victim. In some towns, the Rivermen were ready for this; ready with crossbows and stone-tipped bolts, ready with nooses and obsidian clubs. In other towns the victims screamed into unheeding air, were flown away to be dosed with Tears and left in some pit or other until ready for eating.

The Servants had never considered human anger. In the wake of these seizings, anger rose like a veil of smoke around the towns, palpable as wind. Even they who had not been Rivermen, who had revered the Awakeners, even they could feel nothing but anger as they saw their children hoisted aloft, blood dripping from sharp talons as the screaming prey were carried away. Towns in which the first victims were easily taken proved to be impregnable on the second try. Doors and windows were closed. Farmers were not working in their fields. Children were not playing in the streets. Where groups moved, armed men moved with them.

On the wharves the fishermen, guarded by bowmen, drew in their nets and piled the bounty of the River upon the wharves.