with the challenges that we faced here.
‘All threads pulled together to make sure we not only survived but thrived. The Ynissul too.’
Boos and jeers stalled his speech, and for the first time Lorius displayed anger. He moved from behind his lectern and faced the crowd full on. For a moment, Katyett wondered if he’d dropped them as easily as he’d caught them. There he stood, an ula alone in front of a hooting mob that paid him no attention. For a second time, though, she had to admit a grudging respect.
Not for a heartbeat did his expression change. Nor did he gesture for calm or let his eye move away from the scene in front of him. And slowly, slowly they quietened, realising perhaps that their show had ceased and their principal actor had walked from the stage.
‘Thank you,’ said Lorius quietly. And he returned to his lectern, daring them to begin again. ‘Why do you jeer at the truth? Perhaps your memories are short. The Ynissul were instrumental in the success of the harmony and High Priest Jarinn a central figure in that success. Jeer now if you don’t believe me.’
Silence. Almost. Merrat chuckled.
‘Good, isn’t he?’
‘Very,’ said Katyett. ‘And just look at the space he’s created for whatever lie is coming next.’
‘So why is it that we stand here now knowing that our people are unhappy? That they feel undermined? That tension grows by the day and knowing that there have been incidents of violence between threads. A dark place we thought never to revisit. The answer is as simple as it is tragic.
‘In the wake of Takaar’s abject failure, the Ynissul, bolstered by the return of so many with him - mysterious when brother and sister threads suffered so badly - have set about reinstalling themselves as the dominant thread.’
Now the boos began again and Lorius nodded.
‘Yes. Yes. Across our land, they take charge. The Amllans of Ysundeneth, Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine?’
‘YNISSUL!’
‘The high priest of Shorth?’
‘YNISSUL!’
‘The Lord of the Fleet?’
‘YNISSUL!’
Lorius spread his hands and let the applause grow. He wagged a finger when it was at its height and began again.
‘I could go on.’ He snatched up a sheaf of papers. ‘From judges to landowners, civil servants to the keepers of the exchequer, Ynissul are everywhere. And while the Lord of the Al-Arynaar might be a Tuali, her love for Takaar renders her Ynissul in all but name. The insidious, growing influence is everywhere. Even up there in the rafters!’
Every face swung up to sneer at the TaiGethen high above the floor. Missiles were thrown, mainly fruit. The TaiGethen in the rafters swayed and dodged economically, catching much that reached them, Merrat cocked her arm, a hard, unripe mango in her fist.
‘No,’ said Katyett. ‘Or at least, not yet.’
‘Look at them.’ Lorius continued the taunt. ‘Like monkeys swinging from the branches of a banyan, too fearful to put their feet on the ground lest we see the deception in their eyes. Too haughty to nestle among their brothers in case we should give them something unmentionable. And do they, our oh-so-glorious immortals, do they hide up there to protect us all from harm? To police thread unity? I think not. Every TaiGethen is an Ynissul. EVERY SINGLE ONE! And there they sit, waiting for the call to defend their own and only their own.
‘Takaar is the reason the Ynissul alone refuse to interbreed. They use Takaar’s law against us. Why is every position of power being eaten up by the Ynissul? Same reason. Takaar’s law. The law that demands that the holder of any position of authority must be given to the brother or sister best able to enhance the harmony. Takaar’s harmony!
‘The harmony that meant a hundred thousand non-Ynissul died. The harmony that would enslave us all again beneath the heel of the Ynissul. We must free ourselves before it is too late. We must live the harmony as it was first conceived. Before it was perverted as
‘All threads pulled together to make sure we not only survived but thrived. The Ynissul too.’
Boos and jeers stalled his speech, and for the first time Lorius displayed anger. He moved from behind his lectern and faced the crowd full on. For a moment, Katyett wondered if he’d dropped them as easily as he’d caught them. There he stood, an ula alone in front of a hooting mob that paid him no attention. For a second time, though, she had to admit a grudging respect.
Not for a heartbeat did his expression change. Nor did he gesture for calm or let his eye move away from the scene in front of him. And slowly, slowly they quietened, realising perhaps that their show had ceased and their principal actor had walked from the stage.
‘Thank you,’ said Lorius quietly. And he returned to his lectern, daring them to begin again. ‘Why do you jeer at the truth? Perhaps your memories are short. The Ynissul were instrumental in the success of the harmony and High Priest Jarinn a central figure in that success. Jeer now if you don’t believe me.’
Silence. Almost. Merrat chuckled.
‘Good, isn’t he?’
‘Very,’ said Katyett. ‘And just look at the space he’s created for whatever lie is coming next.’
‘So why is it that we stand here now knowing that our people are unhappy? That they feel undermined? That tension grows by the day and knowing that there have been incidents of violence between threads. A dark place we thought never to revisit. The answer is as simple as it is tragic.
‘In the wake of Takaar’s abject failure, the Ynissul, bolstered by the return of so many with him - mysterious when brother and sister threads suffered so badly - have set about reinstalling themselves as the dominant thread.’
Now the boos began again and Lorius nodded.
‘Yes. Yes. Across our land, they take charge. The Amllans of Ysundeneth, Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine?’
‘YNISSUL!’
‘The high priest of Shorth?’
‘YNISSUL!’
‘The Lord of the Fleet?’
‘YNISSUL!’
Lorius spread his hands and let the applause grow. He wagged a finger when it was at its height and began again.
‘I could go on.’ He snatched up a sheaf of papers. ‘From judges to landowners, civil servants to the keepers of the exchequer, Ynissul are everywhere. And while the Lord of the Al-Arynaar might be a Tuali, her love for Takaar renders her Ynissul in all but name. The insidious, growing influence is everywhere. Even up there in the rafters!’
Every face swung up to sneer at the TaiGethen high above the floor. Missiles were thrown, mainly fruit. The TaiGethen in the rafters swayed and dodged economically, catching much that reached them, Merrat cocked her arm, a hard, unripe mango in her fist.
‘No,’ said Katyett. ‘Or at least, not yet.’
‘Look at them.’ Lorius continued the taunt. ‘Like monkeys swinging from the branches of a banyan, too fearful to put their feet on the ground lest we see the deception in their eyes. Too haughty to nestle among their brothers in case we should give them something unmentionable. And do they, our oh-so-glorious immortals, do they hide up there to protect us all from harm? To police thread unity? I think not. Every TaiGethen is an Ynissul. EVERY SINGLE ONE! And there they sit, waiting for the call to defend their own and only their own.
‘Takaar is the reason the Ynissul alone refuse to interbreed. They use Takaar’s law against us. Why is every position of power being eaten up by the Ynissul? Same reason. Takaar’s law. The law that demands that the holder of any position of authority must be given to the brother or sister best able to enhance the harmony. Takaar’s harmony!
‘The harmony that meant a hundred thousand non-Ynissul died. The harmony that would enslave us all again beneath the heel of the Ynissul. We must free ourselves before it is too late. We must live the harmony as it was first conceived. Before it was perverted as
Similar Books
