#13 - No One Owns Them

Limyé grabbed a handful of leaves and grasses, with a single night lily before Ahrimaz went back to his cell and placed them in a tiny bowl of water, under the shelf with the light.

Ahrimaz sat, pulling his hair forward to smell the lingering greenish scent of the valley’s water, eyes closed.  “You’re trying to re-make me into him and you aren’t going to succeed.”

“No, actually, I’m taking mental notes on the similarities and differences I see between the two of you,” Limyé answered.

“I shouldn’t imagine we are truly that similar,” Ahrimaz answered, sweeping his hair back off his face. “And aren’t you sitting with me rather longer than you should?  You’ve not been inflicting your questions on anyone else?”

“No, the family is healthy.  I should inform you that this world’s Épouse de Le Main, Yolend, has birthed a healthy baby boy.”

“A boy.”  Ahrimaz smiled.  “If this and that world are still so similar then I have another son.  Legitimate.  I have half a dozen bastards.  Does your ‘Hand’ have them too?  I shouldn’t think that Yolend… or even Pelahir… would tolerate him sleeping around on them.”

“Such restrictive and strange customs you have,” Limyé said, sitting down. 

“Restrictive?  How the scorch do you know which are your children? Your Heirs? Your seed?”

“Why does it matter?  They all know who their mothers are.”

Ahrimaz found his mouth hanging open at the implications of that.  “They know… that’s right… you worship the Demon equally with God.  As His other half… as far as sex goes for beings that don’t have sex as far as I’ve been taught.  And women have this Divinity they can pray to who won’t scorch their tits off every time He gets passionate.”

“Yes.  The Inneans say that Her rain cools His flame but just as His fire doesn’t dry Her up, She does not douse Him.”

Ahrimaz snorted.  “So balanced.  They get steam between Them then.”

“It’s all power, motive energy.  We Imaryans think that life is embodied in Her, because we are so wet, but somehow the flame that burns everything somehow lives in us as well.”

“That makes sense in a strange way.  So you don’t own women in this world.”

“No and neither do they own us.  We own ourselves.”

“How do you manage to raise children if children own themselves?”

“Adults own themselves, if they are competent to own anything.  Various countries in the Coalition have different ideas of what constitutes an adult.  Parents have the responsibility for their children until their particular culture’s adult signpost.”

“That’s just so messy and so sloppy.”

“It seems to work well enough.”

“Except that you people are all backwards barbarians.  You don’t have indoor plumbing.  You don’t have tile stoves and are probably worried about denuding the countryside of trees to keep warm in the winter or if you are burning coal then you’re digging into your hills all around here, just to keep Demon Ice from freezing your testicles off.  You have people who are deafened by the Swelling.”

“What’s your mortality rate in the Empire?  Mothers and children?”  Limyé made another note.  He was scribbling pretty constantly.

“I don’t know.”

“Ah.  Women and children aren’t important enough?”

“No.”

“I see.  Well, how is your disease control?”

“The Empire has eradicated the scourge of the Swelling. The summer sweats kill off the lower classes every year… oh, not all of them, but quite a few.” Ahrimaz paused to think.  “And there are a dozen winter killers that usually carry off the oldest, the youngest, and the weakest… though, since we’ve started making everyone keep the water clean… and make the cheapest stoves free… those illnesses have dropped dramatically in the last generation.”  He paused.  “The free stoves were an idea of mine since there were a horrific number of fires across all classes.  I made open fires in tenements illegal and then made the stoves available.  Fires are cut down across the land and people hale me as a hero.  I needed more people, more workers, to support my army. Ahrimaz shrugged.  “I’m a user.  I need to have people to use.”

“I see.” Another note.  “That sounds very ‘power of the masses’ to me, though phrased like an Emperor instead of a Hand.”

“I’m NOTHING… like him.” Ahrimaz subsided.

“Of course,” Limyé said.  “Might you be able to speak about how your mother died?”

“No.”  Ahrimaz flung himself onto the bed, face to the wall. “She’s not dead. Go away, Limyé…” he paused and forced out a razor edged “please leave me alone.”

“Very well.  It is quite late.  I will see you tomorrow.”