Disclaimer: No ownership claimed, no okane gained.
Notes: Rated PG-13 for swearing.
Me'taphoria
Rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose, Chichiri allowed himself a long moment of silent meditation. This, he told himself darkly, was fast becoming ridiculous. Bad enough that the baron of this village should invest so much time in the suffocation of his citizens' freedoms, but to go this far with it? To arrest and threaten with execution the one woman who'd dared to speak out against his tyranny? Opening his eye, the magician blinked into the fierce afternoon sunlight and, after a moment, was able to make out the squat structure of the jail on the other side of the town square. It was a crude building, formed of mud bricks and a few slats of wood, and was almost ludicrously small; the ceiling, too, was low, forcing its occupants to stoop, and the building's only light came from one small, barred window facing the square. If Chichiri concentrated, he could make out the shape of a face at that window, its dirt-streaked countenance tilted up towards the sun, its eyes lightly closed, treasuring the warmth.
He was far too well trained to let the sudden burst of anger show on his face, but it boiled inside of him like magma.
He had to do something.
As if his companion had sensed his thoughts, there was a sudden warmth on his shoulder; turning, he found a hand resting there, the fingers slender but undeniably strong, their weight both a comfort and a restraint. He couldn't help a wan smile at that; who'd have thought the day would come when he would need a lesson in restraint from Tasuki? The mirth didn't last long, however, as he watched a group of children skip past the jail and hurl a few globs of rotting fruit at the window, crowing with laughter as they did so.
The monk sighed. "I don't like this, Tasuki."
"Ya think I do?" the younger man returned. Scowling, Tasuki crossed his arms over his chest, and Chichiri noticed his gaze flickering to the armed guards circling the prison. Sheltered under the porch of the Temple across the street, the two seishi were hidden from prying eyes, but the guards seemed aware of their presence anyway, tossing occasional warning glances in their direction.
"They've had her in there for too long, no da," he continued quietly. "The Baron should've made his decision days ago."
"Probably fuckin' made it the second he put her away." His eyes burned a feral yellow for an instant, then dulled as he let a long sigh pass through his lips. "It ain't fair, 'Chiri. What that damned Baron's doin' to these people…it ain't fair. I mean, shit, they came here to fuckin' be free, didn't they?" He jabbed an angry finger at the jail. "What the hell kind of freedom is that, huh? Where you can get locked up for speakin' your mind just 'cause you don't do it the way the goddamn baron wants ya to? It's fuckin' crazy."
"Baron Nett's become corrupt," the monk explained in a soft voice. "He's made Me'taphoria too nice of a home for these people. He knows they'll remain here in this village no matter what ridiculous restrictions he places on them." He shook his head. "Look at what he's already gotten away with. Commanding that no one speak on 'inappropriate' topics in public. Refusing speech-makers the right to interact with their audiences. Enacting these…these witch hunts for those who dare break his mandates. And this latest ruling, banning the theatre companies from putting on plays. It just gets worse and worse, no da."
"We gotta do somethin'," Tasuki said fervently. "We gotta…gotta break the rebels outta jail or…or kick this baron's money-grubbing ass or…somethin'. But we can't just fuckin' sit here, 'Chiri. We can't just sit here."
Chichiri shook his head sadly. "It's not our fight, no da. We're not citizens in this town—Fanfie Nett isn't our baron. His rules aren't ours to follow, no da, and so it isn't up to us to break them. It's up to the citizens. The taxpayers especially, no da. They're the ones who have a chance of fixing this, of getting these rulings changed. They're the only ones he'll listen to."
Tasuki thudded a fist into the edge of the porch railing. "Yeah," he growled, "only they're not fuckin' talkin'."
"Most of them don't have a reason to, no da. These new rulings don't affect everyone." He let a soft breath filter out through his lips. "And the citizens are scared, no da. They've seen what happens to people like Roku, people who speak out. Their properties are seized and they're thrown into prison." He swallowed. "Or threatened with execution. No one is willing to risk paying such a heavy price, no da."
"Yeah, well, maybe they all oughta fucking move. That'd show the damn baron who's boss. I'd like to fuckin' see him try to run a town with no people in it."
"Tasuki, these people don't have anywhere else to go, no da. Even with these restrictions in place, this town is still the best place to live in all of Intre." He lowered his voice, a thin smile pulling at his lips. "But from what I've heard, there's a resistance movement growing, no da. It's founded a new town just south of here for the refugees—the people, like Roku, who have been imprisoned for their speeches, no da. The baron has no jurisdiction there. It's a safe haven." He felt his smile grow a bit broader as, right on schedule, one of the prison guards vanished around the side of the building—and was replaced, mere seconds later, by a much shorter, much skinnier individual wearing his clothes. Within a matter of minutes, the other four guards had undergone similar changes, and the first—a young woman with short dark hair tucked under the heavy cap of the Guard—drew a key ring from her belt and hurried towards the prison door.
He heard Tasuki suck in a sharp breath beside him. "What the fuck's goin' on over there?"
The monk smiled. "Prison break, no da. It's the Resistance. They've come to take Roku away—to the safe haven, no da."
As they watched, the prison door opened a second time, and through it walked the same dark-haired guard…and a hunched figure in a cloak, her features totally obscured by a grey hood, but her strong, confident gait unmistakable. The guard pulled the door quietly shut behind them, and soon all six individuals were marching calmly down the street with the hooded figure in the center, heading for the village gates and the freedom beyond.
Drawing in a deep, focusing breath, Chichiri climbed to his feet and brought a cupped hand to his chest. Murmuring a few words of magic, he let his eye drop to a slit in concentration—and with a shimmer of the dusty air, the group of rebels suddenly vanished from sight, only the slight shifting of the sand at their feet proof of their passage. His part in the prison break accomplished, Chichiri dropped back into his chair and folded his hands in his lap, a satisfied smile creeping onto his lips.
He heard a rustle from beside him then, and turned to find Tasuki shaking his head, a strange look of sadness on his features. "You know what this means, don't you, 'Chiri?" he asked in a subdued voice. "Means the fuckin' baron's won. Chased Roku outta town. Got rid of her, just like he wanted."
"Maybe, no da," the monk conceded. "But maybe not. He wanted her discredited. Executed. But now, she's free—free to speak her mind again, no da, without any of the baron's laws to censor her." His mouth bent up into what could almost be called a grin. "He hasn't heard the last of her, no da. She'll be out there, biding her time with the other rebels—waiting until the rest of the villagers finally realize what the baron's doing to them and rebel themselves. And then she'll be back, no da. She'll be back."
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Dedicated to the indomitable Maiden Roku, who will continue to cast stones in the village of the refugees until the way is safe to return to Me'taphoria.