18
ROSARIUS
SARASINIA
THE BASTION
Another boring history class. His interest in old buildings aside, Rosarius had never particularly enjoyed the subject. It was just a bunch of dusty facts, names and dates for which he had no practical use. To be fair, though, at least Dannis and Tavaris weren’t teaching history. So, it had that going for it. The pair had inserted themselves more or less everywhere else in the Bastion, and they were doing their best to gut the curriculum exactly as they said they would. It was causing tension on campus; students were in uproar. He looked forward to the day when tempers flared and they were history.
Lecturer Haron stood at the blackboard. “What is today’s topic? Can anyone remember?” He looked pleased when several hands went up. “All right,” he said, choosing one. “Enlighten us please, Gylio.”
“The Jalut priesthood,” said Gylio.
“Yes,” said Haron. “Very good. Although I wonder if you could be more specific?”
“The Jalut priesthood as it relates to name magic.”
“Excellent!” said Haron, stroking his wispy beard. “Name magic. Now I trust you all did the required reading for today? I’m going to assume as much, anyway. So then, who can tell something about the origins of so-called name magic?”
This time no hands went up. Rosarius watched as Beccera leaned forward in his seat.
Haron’s brow creased in anticipation. “Yes, Bec–” he began, but instead of answering his question, Beccera reached over his desk and flicked Gylio’s ear.
“Ow!” squealed Gylio. “Fuck off!”
“Oh dear,” said Haron, looking down his nose at Beccera. “I’ll have no more of that, thank you. Can anyone answer the question?”
“What question?” asked Tacius.
Haron straightened. “Can anyone tell me something about the origins of so-called name magic?”
“Magic?” asked Beccera.
“Yes, Beccera. Magic. Name magic, specifically. I’m growing weary of saying it. What say I give you all a little time to collect your thoughts?”
Haron began pacing with his head bowed, and Rosarius counted his steps. “No one?” said the teacher, sounding disappointed. “Did we not go over the foundation material just last week? And have none of you done the required reading for this lesson?”
No one spoke.
Haron sighed a heavy sigh. “Very well. It has to do with names, obviously. The Jalut priesthood became rather fixated on nomenclature, if you remember. Why?”
Amid a sea of blank faces and still bodies, a single hand went up.
“Good,” said Haron. “That’s better. Julan?”
“They thought everything had a True Name,” said Julan.
“Well done!” said Haron. “That’s exactly right. According to their teaching, everything had a True Name. Animals, plants, rocks. The sea, the mountains, the sky. Everything. And what did they believe you could do if you possessed the knowledge of a thing’s True Name?”
“Achieve mastery over it.”
“True enough, however they didn’t believe that to start with. The idea did come along a bit later of course. But no, in the beginning–”
“It was all bullshit, though,” said Helder.
Haron fixed him with a stare. “Bullshit? I don’t recall that particular word appearing in the lectures or the readings at all. Unless I’m mistaken?”
The class laughed, and Helder flushed with embarrassment. “Um, well, I was maybe reading between the lines a bit, sir.”
“More than a bit, I think,” said Haron, clasping his hands behind his back. “But what about it do you think was bullshit, exactly?”
“True Names aren’t real, sir. The idea is ridiculous.”
“Oh? Do you mean to say you don’t think names have power?”
“Um...” Rosarius could see that Helder clearly didn’t know how to answer.
Haron looked at the front row. “Beccera, what do you say about that?”
“I dunno,” said Beccera.
“Really?” said Haron, grimacing. “You don’t know? So it doesn’t mean anything when your father signs his name to a document about, say, the purchase of a house or a horse or a slave?”
“Huh?”
“Your father,” said Haron slowly, “has a name, does he not?”
Beccera looked confused. “Of course he does.”
“And so when he signs his name to a document, he is exerting his power–true or false?”
“Yeah,” said Beccera, nodding, “that’s true, I guess. But so what?”
“No,” said Haron, punctuating the air with a finger. “You cannot dismiss it so easily. And this is but one everyday example of how we understand and communicate our realities through names. Make no mistake about it–they have great power.”
Beccera shrugged. “All right.”
“You can read and write, Beccera, can you not?”
“Of course.”
“Of course!” shouted Haron. “Of course you can. You’ve learned how to use a pen and ink, haven’t you? You’re privileged, and so naturally you take it for granted. You think nothing of it! The vast majority of the world’s people, however, are utterly illiterate.
“Back when the world was young, when practically no one could read or write, writing was seen as something truly extraordinary. In fact, people believed it was a gift of divine origin, sent by the Creators. And therefore inherently magical. And they thought this especially true of names.”
Beccera shrugged. “Mhm.”
“That’s all you have to say?” said Haron, appalled. “Mhm?” Seeing how Beccera had nothing further to add, he addressed the class as a whole. “The Jalut were arguably the first to come up with the theory behind name magic. They were still living in the north at the time. Neighbours, of course, to the Ahren.”
Romelo, on the other side of the classroom, coughed loudly. Rosarius checked to make sure his town blade was loose in its scabbard.
“Yes, Romelo?” said Haron, turning to look at him. “Do you have something to say about it?”
“They’re my favourite barbarians,” said Romelo, grinning like a fool.
Riva, sitting on a bench not far from Rosarius, didn’t say anything. The comment drew snide laughter from other parts of the room, however. Rosarius felt his anger stirring.
“Student Romelo,” said Haron. “Speak plainly by all means, but can I ask you to keep it civil?”
Romelo folded his arms. “Fine.”
“Good,” said Haron, nodding. “Right. So, back to the topic at hand, eh? Now, as far as the ‘when’ is concerned, we are of course talking about a rather specific period of time. Can you remember what we call the era in which the concept of Jalut name magic first emerged?”
“The Black Age,” said Romelo.
“Very good. That’s right. The Black Age began some five hundred years ago, and name magic emerged around the same time. Over the course of two centuries or so, the Jalut propagated religious schools throughout the north, each one dedicated to the discovery of True Names. It was a time of reading, of enlightenment, and very rightly regarded as a quest for knowledge unrivalled in history. These schools were extremely popular. The trend–for want of a better word–spread throughout the world. There were even schools of magic in Sarasinia. Here in the capital, would you believe?”
“No,” said Romelo.
Haron looked at him. “Well I can assure you it’s true, Romelo.”
Romelo’s lips formed a sneer. “It is not.”
“Excuse me? As a matter of fact, the Bastion itself was at one time host to what became a particularly infamous school of magic.”
Romelo shook his head. “What a load of horse shit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, it’s horse shit.”
“No, this is a fact of history. You can’t just deny something because you–”
“No!” shouted Romelo, thumping his desk with a fist. “It’s fucking horse shit!”
“What is it you find so objectionable?”
“Ahren name bullshit? Here in Sarasinia? No. I don’t fucking think so, Haron. I call bullshit.”
“Romelo,” said Haron, his voice cracking, “let’s not... let’s not make a scene. Not again. Please?”
“If I say it’s fucking horse shit,” said Romelo, thrusting an arm in the air, “then it’s horse shit. Who else here thinks what Haron’s saying is horse shit? Let’s have a show of hands.” He threw glares around the room, daring people to refuse him. Beccera immediately raised his arm and prompted others to do so. Several more went up, albeit reluctantly.
Rosarius shook his head. “Put your arms down, the lot of you.” To Romelo he said, “Have some respect, cousin.”
Haron took a deep breath and clasped his hands in front of him. “Come now, Romelo. Be reasonable. I mean, first of all it was Jalut name magic and not Ahren. Second, this is not really the time for–”
Morie, who had to be the tiniest and least outspoken senior Rosarius had ever met, suddenly leaped to his feet. “The only thing that’s horse shit is you, Romelo!” he shouted. “You fuckin’ pants pisser!”
A shocked stillness descended on the room. No one moved, not even to breathe. Finally, Romelo got up and pushed his desk aside, his hands balled into fists. “How dare you, Morie, you little fucking cunt!” he screeched. “You are so fucked!”
Haron shrank away. “Oh no. You can’t... I mean, I won’t stand for any...”
But Romelo wasn’t listening. He bore down on Morie, his face a mask of rage. The little man let out a squeal.
“You little shit!” shouted Romelo, grabbing a big handful of his hair. “How dare you!”
“Fuck,” hissed Morie between clenched teeth, “you!”
The pair tussled, but Romelo had the advantage of size. He manoeuvred Morie into a headlock and started pummelling his face with his free hand. “Little cunt!”
“Pants pisser!” screamed Morie, blood streaming from a cut above his right eye.
“I reckon that’s enough, cousin,” said Rosarius, standing up.
Romelo let go of Morie and shoved him out of the way. “Come on then, cunt,” he said. “Come on!”
Rosarius crossed the room, feigned a jab and took Romelo’s legs out from underneath him with a sweeping kick. Romelo hit the ground, winded.
Beccera and others were suddenly on their feet. “Get him!” shouted Beccera.
Rosarius booted Romelo in the side of the head and backed off, not so much because he was scared of Beccera or his friends, but more because he didn’t want his cousin reaching upward and grabbing him by the balls. He showed them his fists. “Yeah? Come on, then! I’ll be happy to kick all your fuckin’ teeth in!”
Beccera licked his lips. He looked at Romelo lying on the floor gasping for breath.
“You all right, Morie?” asked Rosarius, not taking his eyes off Beccera.
“Yeah.” Morie smoothed down his hair and wiped blood out of his eyes. “I’m all right.” He stood beside Rosarius with his fists raised and a determined look on his face.
“You’re fucked,” said Beccera. “You’re so fucked.”
“Am I?” said Rosarius. “Take another step and let’s see if you’re right.”
Beccera’s hand went to the town blade on his hip.
“I’ve got one of those as well,” said Rosarius. “Draw it, and I swear they’ll send you home in a fucking box.”
Beccera licked his lips and edged away. His friends didn’t look keen to fight, either.
“Cowards,” said Rosarius. He picked up his cousin as if he were a bag of turnips and practically tossed him onto the nearest chair.
“I’m going to...” said Romelo, still struggling for air, “going to get... you...”
“It’s one thing to say it,” said Rosarius. “And another to do it.” Then he drew back his arm and slapped him hard across the face. Romelo yelped and curled into a ball.
“Motherfucker!” shouted Beccera. “You’ll pay for that!”
Rosarius sneered. “Let’s go, bitch.”
Beccera pounced, punching wildly. Rosarius ducked his blows and elbowed him in the jaw. He went down hard, and when he got up again, he was glassy-eyed and gazing around the room as if he’d never seen it before.
“That was for Benton,” said Rosarius. “You cowardly piece of shit. Or did you think I’d forgotten how you stabbed him in the back? I should fucking kill you.”
Beccera mumbled something unintelligible and left the class with one hand pressed to his mouth. His friends followed and started bickering amongst themselves even before they reached the door.
Morie clapped Rosarius on the shoulder. “Thanks for having my back. I won’t forget it.”
“No problem,” said Rosarius.
Riva was laughing so hard he was almost in tears. Rosarius threw him a lopsided grin. “Did you enjoy that, you barbarian bastard?”
“I did, brother,” said Riva, wiping his eyes. “Thank you.”
Rosarius turned to Master Haron. “Sir, I apologise for the disturbance. I’ll take my punishment along with anyone else who disturbed your class this morning.”
“Ah,” said Haron, blinking. “Well I don’t think it’s, uhm, an issue that need go any further. Not if everyone agrees it’s finished.”
Rosarius glanced at Romelo who nodded once and then looked away, pouting. It was a wonder he hadn’t left with the others.
Haron pursed his lips. “Uh, anyway, so where were we? His eyes went to the blackboard where he had earlier scrawled the word ‘Jalut’ across it in chalk. “Oh yes, of course. Name magic.”
Morie, his face still shining with blood, put up a hand. Haron nodded at him. “Was the Bastion really once a school of Ahren naming magic?”
“No,” said Haron. “As I’ve already said, name magic originated with the Jalut, not the Ahren.”
“I thought,” said Helder, “that you told us it spread amongst the Ahren, though?”
“I did say that and it’s true, but only to an extent. You see, it was the Jalut priestly caste who first came up with the notion of name magic. It formed the core of their mysteries. Others borrowed from them, incorporating their methods into their own religions. Thus, in one form or another it spread around the globe.”
“So it wasn’t Ahren?”
“I thought I just made the fact abundantly clear,” said Haron, annoyed. “In essence, name magic was simply a new way for man to make sense of his world. A quest for knowledge, if you will. As far as we modern folk are concerned, there was nothing particularly magical about it. The written aspect of it transformed life as we know it, but the magical aspect was relatively short-lived. Does anyone remember why?”
“Because it was horse shit?” muttered someone.
“That,” said Haron, his eyes darting to Romelo, “is a matter of perspective. It’s easy to look back on things that people did in the past and, in the light of all the knowledge we’ve gleaned over the intervening centuries, judge them less than favourably. But you simply cannot do such a thing. You cannot judge the past by the standards of today. You cannot pretend they knew what we do. The words unenlightened and backward come up repeatedly in the readings, and I take issue with that. I don’t think these terms are very helpful. They’re opinions, not facts.
“But anyway, we digress. Jalut name magic was ultimately consigned to the garbage pile of history, no one can deny it. But I’m more interested in the events leading up to its demise.”
“You mean when the Ahren up and killed the Jalut in their holy war?” asked Julan.
“When the Ahren up and killed the Jalut in their holy war?” said Haron, practically spluttering with laughter. “Dear me, no! Come on, people! Try to recall the lecture! The readings? Riva, can you add anything to our discussion?”
“The Jalut tried to take over the leadership of certain Ahren clans, I think,” said Riva, “and triggered a holy war.”
Haron held up a finger. “Ah, now that’s closer to the truth, I think, but it’s still not accurate. Remember how the Jalut priesthood postulated that everything had a True Name? They believed that if you could discover the True Name of a thing, you lifted the fog of mystery surrounding it, and came to truly know it. I don’t think it’s easy to capture in words exactly what it meant to them, and no, the irony of this is not lost on me! Suffice to say it would have been a very profound, spiritual religious experience…
“Over the course of time, however, the religion began to change. It evolved to the point where the Jalut priesthood began to speak of domination over the things they had found names for. Imagine, if you will, achieving complete mastery over the physical world, all via the manipulation of names! And I’m talking complete mastery over everything… mastery over the rocks, the trees, even the wind.”
“What about people?” asked Gylio.
“Yes,” said Haron. “Even people. They sought mastery over literally everything.”
“But how?” asked Helder. “How did it work?”
“The ‘how’ was through very specific rituals known only to the priesthood.”
“But did it actually work?” asked Helder.
“What do you think?”
“I think not.”
Haron smiled. “I have my doubts about it as well. You mustn’t forget, though, that the Jalut priests were also rulers. Rulers have a tendency to use any and all means at their disposal to remain in power. In a population where only they could read and write, name magic was an extremely powerful tool for maintaining social order. These men were revered–feared, even–and most certainly above being questioned by ordinary folk. Anyway, what happened next?”
“The Jalut tried to find out the True Name of the Ahren and thus control them,” said Rosarius.
“A myth,” said Haron. He looked at Riva. “But a pervasive one. The Ahren, then and now, are more a loose federation of peoples than an actual race. We refer to them as ‘the Ahren’ out of convenience. Or laziness, I suppose. Or ignorance. That being the case, how could they have had a True Name? Think about it. They couldn’t have, could they? And the Jalut priesthood would have been well aware of this fact, too, of course. So no, contrary to what has been written by historians with overly fertile imaginations, they did not try to work spells on the Ahren.”
“So what actually happened then?” asked Julan. “There was a war, wasn’t there?”
“There was indeed a war,” said Haron. “Remember, the Jalut religion taught that it was the Creators' utterance of its True Name that produced the Empyrean and everything in it. This was hardly a new idea, though, since older faiths also held this to be true. I can’t stress enough how, at least in the beginning, the search for True Names was never about control. It was merely an attempt to make sense of the world. Or I should say worlds, because we must include the spiritual realm as well as the physical. It was but another avenue in the enduring search for truth.
“But anyway, then the Jalut religion began to evolve. The notion of control and exploitation, via True Names, eventually became the heart of religious theory and practice. The high priests seized upon the idea that if they could uncover the True Names of the Creators, they could bring Them to heel and They would be forced to serve man. Or the Jalut priesthood, at any rate.”
“And that was when the Ahren slaughtered them?” asked Julan.
“No,” said Haron. “No, no. Did anyone actually do the readings? Riva? What happened next?”
Riva shrugged. “The war?”
“Yes. But why?”
“I don’t know. I was never a very good student of history, sir.”
“Not even your own?”
“Not even my own. All I know is there was a war.”
Haron grimaced. “There was a war, it’s true. But it didn’t happen just like that. It makes more sense when you also consider the low-level tension that had long existed between the Jalut and the Ahren. The Jalut are more accurately called the Lugen. They came not from the north originally but from the south, from ancient Zann. They were pushed out by other tribes and came to live alongside the Ahren in the Red Age. But they were never Ahren. They possessed an altogether different faith, different culture, different language, different appearance. An altogether dissimilar people, and make no mistake. They were tolerated by their new neighbours, but only barely. There was practically no intermarriage. Of course, we southerners tend to ignore this, and even today most people here consider these two peoples one and the same. But if you truly want to annoy an Ahren clansman, go ahead and call him Jalut. Is that not right, Riva?”
“More than annoy him,” said Riva. “He’ll kill you for it.”
“For centuries,” said Haron, “the Jalut co-existed more or less peacefully with their Ahren neighbours. However, when the priesthood began to promulgate the notion that the Creators could be bound and forced to serve humanity, the Ahren did not like it. In fact, they considered it the very worst sort of blasphemy.
“It didn’t help that a couple of decades prior, Jalut merchants had begun to dominate trade in Ahren lands. There was much resentment at how prosperous and self-serving this alien people was becoming, and the Jalut ‘heresy’ gave Ahren chiefs the perfect opportunity to take up arms against them. For the first–and last–time in history, the Ahren united under their own banner and marched to war.
“Now the Jalut were no great fighters, but they had much in terms of resources. They spent vast sums of money on mercenaries, and also on bribing enemy commanders. They were skilled propagandists, too, and exploited rifts between certain tribal factions. One of the most surprising events occurred when a fifth column of Ahren heretics sprang up, but that is a topic for another day.
“War raged for years, but ultimately the Jalut were defeated. The entire priestly caste was put to the sword and their sacred texts reduced to ashes. The populace was largely spared, but religion and trade continued to be a source of problems for many years. Finally, the Ahren chiefs ran out of patience and annihilated much of the Jalut population. The remnants were driven from the northern reaches. Forever.”
“You can find them in Herena, though” said Riva. “Thanks to Sarasinian occupation.”
“Why do people still hate them?” Gylio asked Haron.
“Well, I don’t know,” said Haron. “Do you hate them?”
“I dunno. Never really thought about it. No?”
“You’re in the minority,” said Riva. “My ancestors were right to exterminate them. Jalut are nothing but trouble. I mean, you’ve got Jalut banking clans practically running half your provinces–the same bullshit that got them killed up north!” There were scattered murmurs of agreement around the class.
“Master Haron?” asked Helder.
“Yes?”
“Sir, you were saying something before about how the Bastion had its own school of magic?”
Rosarius looked at Romelo. The man sat awkwardly in his seat, hunched over his hurts, but he had an almost thoughtful look on his face.
“Yes,” said Haron, “I did. It was called the Cult of Sarasin. Or at least that was the name later historians attached to it. We’re not entirely sure what they called themselves. You see, the Jalut priesthood was not alone when it came to thinking to challenge the Creators. In fact–”
A bell echoed in the distance.
“Well,” said Haron with a tired smile, “it seems we’re out of time. Perhaps we’ll return to this topic at a later date? Class is finished for today. And thank you, gentlemen.”
____________
An excerpt from Conquest of the Herenians (author and date unknown)
In the Year 127 of the Black Age, Emperor Menniaius the Magnificent turned his gaze to the northern reaches. Gathering his armies, he carried out raids from Gau until he conquered Herena in 129. At first he ousted its ruler, Odalwyn Riva, but later invited him to become governor as long as he showed obedience and promised to give regular tribute. Menniaius also fortified the city, thus establishing a base from which to conduct future northern campaigns.
The cost of taking Herena was substantial – perhaps more than 12000 lives and well over a third of Sarasinia’s treasury. The undertaking was also bolstered financially by loans from the Jalut merchant class, which in addition to trading concessions, sought the right to return to lands from which the Herenians had ejected them centuries prior. They were to be disappointed: Menniaius’s campaigns beyond Herena proved largely unsuccessful, and the mere presence of Jalut faces in the city resulted in repeated uprisings in 198 that even the combined forces of the emperor and Odalwyn Riva were unable to deter; Menniaius was forced to order the complete removal of the Jalut population in 205.
Odalwyn Riva led a major revolt shortly after the assassination of Menniaius in 209, but the insurrection was swiftly put down by his successor, Goleta. Odalwyn Riva was eventually executed. Further risings took place in subsequent