Striding up to Symon's cabin, I knocked on the door, calling through it.
"Hey, Symon?"
I heard his grumbling from within; my hearing must be sharper than I thought if I could make it out through the thick wood of the door. It swung inward suddenly, and Symon was glaring out ahead of him before he noticed me below his eyeline. His expression softened marginally, and he asked, "What do you want?"
Clasping my hands before me, I bent a little at the shoulders towards him. I wasn't sure where the gesture of respect came from, though I had a vague impression that I'd performed it many, many times. It was as though my body remembered where my mind couldn't.
"I need help, Symon. I'm far from home and I'd like to ask for your knowledge. Please?"
Sharp black eyes scanned my face before he nodded and stepped back inside. He gestured for me to enter.
"Come in, then. Make yourself comfortable." He turned to someone else in the hut, "Sorry lad, looks like we'll have to continue your lessons later. Run along, now."
There wasn't a reply that I heard, but a moment later the young boy I'd seen yesterday bolted from the cabin with a huge grin. He almost collided with me on his way out, and I barely managed to step out of the way before I was bowled over. He paused, shrugged at me, then sprinted away. He looked as though he ought to be laughing with glee, but he made no sound. Odd kid.
I entered, stepping past Symon and looking around. In addition to his bed and trunk full of books, two short logs that had been dragged in and set near the small hearth in the middle of the room. I assumed they were meant to be used as seats, so I moved over and settled down on one. It wobbled a bit and wasn't very comfortable, but it was nice to be able to sit. I found myself keeping my back and shoulders straight, reflexively maintaining my posture on the wobbly seat. I resolved to make this man some proper chairs, whether he was helpful to me or not.
Symon sat on the other log across the small fire from me and stretched his crippled leg out, laying his crutch on the floor next to him.
I'd make him a better crutch, as well. His seemed barely more than a mostly straight branch that bifurcated towards one end, and some rags had been tied in the crook as padding. It looked quite uncomfortable, though he didn't seem bothered by it.
"So, what do you want to know?"
Frowning, I tried to think of where to begin. "Where we are, in general. I've heard that we're somewhere north of some wall somewhere, but that doesn't explain much."
He cocked his head, "You mean you don't know?"
I blinked at him, then shrugged, "I know I don't know a lot of things."
"That's not a bad answer." He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, in general, we are on the northern portion of a landmass known as Westeros. There is a very large wall, the only of its kind in the known world, a hundred leagues south of here. It is built of ice and spans three hundred miles east to west across the whole width of the land. The Wall divides these northern lands from the Seven Kingdoms to the south."
"I… See." Alright, more confirmation that this wasn't the Earth I remembered. Unless this was all a delusion- no, I refused to do this again. Stop it.
"Seven Kingdoms?" I asked after a moment, seeking clarification. "Herrick mentioned them when I'd asked about the kneelers I keep hearing about."
He grimaced, leaning back on his log slightly and resting his hands on his thighs. "Kneeler is not a term I'd use for the people of the Seven Kingdoms. There is a great difference between the servility the wildlings see and the truth of the matter, but that discussion should wait until you have the requisite understanding. From north to south, the Seven Kingdoms span the length of Westeros from the Wall to the Summer Sea and are divided into nine provinces: The North, the Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, the Westerlands, the Reach, the Stormlands, and Dorne. There are the Iron Isles as well, though they hold no territory on the mainland, and the Crownlands, where the highest seat of power lies in the city of King's Landing. The Seven are bound into one and have been so since Aegon's Conquest, nearly three hundred years ago; I believe this is the two hundredth and ninety-fifth year since the Conquest. There is only one King, though each kingdom retains a Lord Paramount that functions similarly to the kings of old."
It was still a shock to hear how different this world was from what I thought I remembered. A wave of vertigo passed through me, starting at the top of my head and racing down my spine. My left hand found my sword's hilt and rested upon it, basking in the steadying warmth. I could have a breakdown later; right now, I needed to focus and see this through. From the way Grenwin had talked, I should do my utmost to avoid looking weak, even if Symon seemed a nice enough fellow. Taking a deep breath, I put on a smile and nodded to Symon, who was watching me with concern writ across his face.
"Are you well?" he asked, leaning closer to peer at me. Under his breath, he muttered low enough I was surprised to catch, "Yi-Tish, perhaps?"
"I'm great," I flashed him a thumbs up with my right hand.
He studied my face, blinking slowly at me.
"Are you aware that gesture is rather close to a common insult? I presume you mean something else by it."
"It's, uhm," I faltered, looking at my hand, "It is? I think it means a vaguely positive affirmative when I do this. This is negative," I turned my hand over, then turned again to hold my thumb level and wiggled it, "This could go either way."
Symon chuckled, shaking his head and running a hand through his loose black hair.
"That can also be interpreted as a request to render unto oneself sexual services."
"What, you mean I've been telling people to go fuck themselves?" I blanched, releasing the gesture. That could be a bad habit to get into.
"Yes," He nodded, chuckles turning to laughter.
After a moment of self-recrimination, I felt my amusement bubbling up and my laughter joined his. Still, my thoughts churned away; I assumed this Aegon was one of the kings of the earlier kingdoms and had welded them into a whole through force, given Symon's emphasis on calling it the Conquest. Calming myself, I posed another question for the man.
"How long have the Kingdoms been around before this Conquest?"
Symon bellowed a final peal and wiped away a little moisture that had collected at the corner of one eye. He shook himself, then considered that, stroking his black beard. "I believe the current consensus is somewhere between six and ten thousand years. While the origins of the original Seven are shrouded in myth, we have records indicating that the Kingdoms had been distinct polities for millennia, in one form or another."
I mentally fumbled, trying to quantify that length of time and failing. It was an unfathomable span; the closest comparisons I could conjure up were the Mesopotamian cultures and predynastic Egypt, but those had been lost to history, and… There was something else, on the edge of my memory. I followed the trace, finding a hazy recollection of a classroom, the teacher and classmates just faded blurs; this must have been where I'd learned this, or at least there was some association here. Shaking my head, I focused.
"I can't think of any single nation that has survived unscathed for that length of time," I admitted to him.
Symon tilted his head, "What do you mean?"
"Where I come from, there aren't any Seven Kingdoms or a Westeros. I, ah, don't remember anything like that, at least." I frowned, scratching an itch at my temple, "No, yeah, I'm sure I don't remember that."
A bushy black eyebrow rose on his face and he asked, "What do you remember, then? I presume by your features that you've come a long way."
I met his dark eyes, "I think you might think it's ridiculous. That you won't believe me. I almost don't believe myself, looking around here and listening to you."
"You know me that well already, do you?" Symon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "Try me."
Hesitantly, I nodded. I had to drag the words out, unaccountably fearful of the response, but they came more easily as I spoke. My hand clung to the hilt, my palm sweating from the heat.
"I knew my world as Earth, and there were seven primary landmasses. Some had been fused with others, with mountain ranges at their boundaries. Asia was the largest of them, followed by Africa, North America, South America, Antarctica, Europe, and Australia. They were arranged around the planet, with North and South America at some distance across the Atlantic Ocean east of Europe. South of Europe had been Africa, separated by a smaller sea between them, and both had land connections to Asia; Europe's eastern boundary was fully connected, while there was a much smaller linkage between Africa and Asia. Australia was isolated by the Pacific Ocean, I think, some distance south and slightly east of Asia, and the Pacific covered half the world between Asia and the Americas. Antarctica was the southernmost and sat astride the south pole, isolated from the others by the Antarctic Ocean."
Symon sat up straight, curiosity warring with disbelief on his features.
"I am unfamiliar with that model of the world and the names you used. Please, continue."
He didn't accuse me of being unwell, so that seemed promising. I felt a little of the tension on my shoulders bleed away.
"A lot of my memories are hazy, so I might miss some of the specifics. I was born in… I lived in a city called Winnipeg, the capital of the province of Manitoba, which was in turn one of several provinces of Canada, a sovereign state situated in the northern portion of North America. To the south was the border with the United States of America, which occupied the majority of North America. They were younger nations, the result of colonization by the European empires, and Canada had been independent for one hundred and sixty years. There was a big celebration of the date a little while ago, I remember. You and I probably use very different calendars, so I don't think mentioning specific years is going to clear anything up. Anyway, my point is that I come from a nation that has existed for a fraction of the time you said the Seven Kingdoms have endured."
Symon frowned, nodding slowly as his fingers tugged at his beard.
"This seems too detailed to be a mere fever dream," he murmured.
I flinched despite my best effort and his eyes widened in concern.
"No, it wasn't a dream," I snapped, scowling at him. "I know what I lived."
"Peace," he raised his hands in a defensive gesture, "I'm willing to entertain this. You're clearly not native to these lands, nor anywhere I'm familiar with the peoples of. There is also the matter of your," he sighed in resignation, "magic hall. I've never seen the like of that in my life, never heard of anything close."
I searched his eyes and found honesty looking back. I nodded slowly, reaching up to my shoulder with my right hand to feel my parka's fur there. I twisted the fibers between my fingers, venting my unease through the repetitive action.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you." I felt a little ashamed; Symon seemed like he was trying to give me the benefit of the doubt, and he didn't deserve that treatment.
His eyes widened and he leaned back a little. "I admit, I'm not used to hearing apologies. Consider it accepted and forgiven. What of your family, then? I am trying to avoid making assumptions about you, but the way you carry yourself is noble. Regal, even."
"Thank you," I murmured. I wasn't sure I wanted to bring up my lights to him, not yet, so I focused on his question. "My family? I don't remember much of them. I think my mother smelled like poppy seeds and I see a cherry blossom held in long fingers when I think of her, and my father smelled of copper. Give me a second to think?"
He nodded slowly, eyeing me quizzically.
Looking away from him, my eyes fell on the low fire between us as I tried to find something, anything, useful. I started back at my memories of university, working through the mélange of half-formed impressions. I remembered the back of a luxury car, leaning against a tinted window and watching streetlights pass by; it had been a daily routine, a commute back and forth because I didn't live on campus. I followed the line further, back into a wealthy household. There was a coatrack near the door, and from a peg on the wall hung a lanyard. I focused on it, trying to remember what it had shown.
There was a photograph of a man, Asian, in his mid-fifties. I couldn't make out the color of his eyes or hair, but I remembered the warm smile I must have seen a thousand times on his face. Underneath, there was text.
Dr. Morioka – Murokama M. Industries, R&D Div.
I felt that the man I remembered was my father, but he wasn't. My head ached a little and I drew in the heat from the metal under my palm. Did this make my name Morioka Maia? That didn't feel right, I didn't feel any resonance with that. Maia Morioka didn't fit, either. Still, there seemed to be a wealth of knowledge attached to the name.
"My father, I don't remember his given name, was head of the Morioka family. The Moriokas held control of Murokama Millenium Industries, an exceptionally wealthy company that produced," I knuckled my temples, trying to abate the pain, "Anything and everything. They had a lot of military contracts, I think. My father had been chairman of their board as well as the head of the research and development division. Oh, I guess in a world of kings and lords, he would be like a very powerful lord who had substantial influence over multiple kings if that makes sense?"
Symon was quiet for a moment as he processed that, rubbing his bearded chin hard enough I thought he might pull some of his hair free.
"I am quite unsure what to make of that," he said slowly. "You are suggesting you are the equivalent of a high lord's daughter?"
I shrugged at him helplessly, "I don't know anything about how your people organize themselves beyond the words you told me. Sure? If that makes it easier to understand, we could go with that?"
His eyes narrowed and he said slowly, "You are rather more engaging than the few noblewomen I've had the misfortune of knowing. Hm, yes, I can see it." His chin came down in a sharp nod and he sat a little straighter.
"Have you known many?" I asked, eager to learn more about him. "Actually, tell me more about yourself, please."
He grimaced, studying me as he spoke. With a start, I realized I'd been looking at him the same way as I shared what I'd remembered. There was suspicion on his face and a wariness that told me he expected a negative reaction.
"I've known three in my time as a maester. I was born a bastard of a lowly merchant and spent my boyhood on the waters of the Greenblood, at the Planky Town in Dorne. I taught myself letters and numbers and found I had a gift for understanding complex problems. I made my living working odd jobs for merchants, and when I was of age, I took a position on a ship bound for Oldtown. Near as soon as I'd arrived, I traveled to the Citadel to join the ranks of learned men. I was soon inducted as an initiate and was educated as a maester for three and ten years. After I'd forged enough links on my chain, I returned to Dorne, sent to serve House Toland at Ghost Hill. I was a replacement for the late Maester Niclas, you see, and I admit I enjoyed myself for some time. Some unpleasantness later ended with my chain broken and my 'reassignment,'" he spit the word out venomously, "To the Night's Watch, at Eastwatch. Ah, the Night's Watch mans the Wall and it is their duty to protect the realm from wildling incursions. The Watch is always in need of educated men, you see, and I joined the Builders, those who maintain the Wall and the Watch's holdings in the Gifts."
I was fascinated by the story, this glimpse into life in this strange world. I leaned forward far enough for the slight smoke of the fire to sting my eyes; it didn't seem to bother me too badly and the sensation felt nearly familiar. Dorne was one of the provinces he mentioned; the Greenblood must have been a river, or perhaps a bay or lake. This Planky Town was a settlement there. I wondered where Oldtown was, and who these Maesters at a Citadel were. It sounded to be some kind of learning institution, though it was interesting that Symon had been sent to serve a lordly house, at least as far as I assumed. I wasn't sure what to make of it. Regardless, I committed the scraps of information to memory, that the settlement of Ghost Hill was perhaps owned or administrated by House Toland, that Maesters possibly served for life and could be removed from their duties, that the Wall was run by this Night's Watch and that Eastwatch was one of their holdings, and from the wording, that these Gifts were more parcels of land under their control. There was so much to unpack from just this, but it would have to wait. I wanted him to finish his tale.
Gesturing with my hand for him to continue, "You seem like you've more to say. How'd you end up this far north?"
Symon relaxed, tension bleeding out of his posture. Whatever reaction he'd been expecting from me, that hadn't been it. He pursed his lips and nodded.
"As to how I found myself here, in this… Hm, quaint village a hundred leagues north of the Wall? Well, three years ago a Ranging returned from the Fist of the First Men. They had found a collapsed tunnel near the base of the Fist and, I assume cleared the debris or crawled past it, discovered a great stone gate covered in First Men runes. As the only man on the Wall who could make the journey and translate the text, I was called to join the next Ranging heading that way. The journey began easily enough, though the Rangers seemed determined to instill some fear of the forest and the land in me as a poor jape. We were three days from the Fist when we were attacked by a band of black-footed savages. In the fighting, I lost my foot and several valuable books. I'm not sure why they didn't finish me off. I was found by a woman proclaiming herself a woods witch and she nursed me to health. Seven bless that woman." He sighed, "When I could, I returned to the site of battle and was able to recover some of my books. I made a choice, then, to put the Watch behind me and seek my fortunes in these frozen lands. I wandered from village to village, offering healing and whatever meagre education the wildlings desired, until I found myself here. I'm not sure why I stayed. Mayhaps I was tired and wanted to rest. First Fork has been my home for near enough two years now."
Absorbing the tale, I picked out the details that might be most valuable to me. Whatever a Ranging was, it was part of the Watch's operations north of the Wall. I wasn't sure what the Fist of the First Men was, but the title implied that there had been people on these lands before the current culture had supplanted them, or perhaps had developed from them. It all sounded somewhat mystical, a mysterious door covered in writing, seemingly buried and forgotten. I grimaced a little at his phrasing, whoever those black-footed people had been, they'd clashed with the Watch and won by the sound of it. I mourned his lost books for a moment, imagining leather-bound tomes flung out to lay exposed in the snow. A woods witch, whatever that was, had helped Symon, so not everyone up here was hostile to the Watch unless it had been some kind of special circumstance. He hadn't mentioned her having black feet, and so I assumed that meant she'd been part of a different group. The Seven he'd asked to bless her probably wasn't the same Seven as in the Seven Kingdoms; it felt odd that an administrative body would be called on to bless anything. Unless the Seven Kingdoms were a theocracy, which would make a little sense, but not much more. The more he said wildlings, the more I began to assume it was a broad descriptor for the people living north of the Wall.
I finally knew what this village was called, at least. First Fork had a nice ring to it. There'd been a tributary feeding into the trunk a little way upriver, and I assumed that to be the "fork."
"Thank you," I told him, putting every ounce of my gratitude into my voice. "Your life sounds unlike anything I've known. What was it like, growing up in Planky Town? And why'd you call yourself a bastard? You seem a fine enough fellow, hardly the kind of person I'd call the word."
"The Planky Town," Symon corrected, relief plain on his face. "Let us set aside your first question for a moment, as your second question will help lay the foundation of the answer. A bastard is what I am. I was born out of wedlock. In Dorne, this is not as great an issue as it is elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Still, most believe that bastards are born from lust, lies, weakness, or some combination thereof and that we are wanton and treacherous by nature. Some are well treated, most often in Dorne, but there is still a wariness levied against us. There are many stories of dubious accuracy told about baseborn children. Most often, they are the sons of lords who work to supplant the trueborn sons' claims to their father's station. The daughters, well, most of those tales claim them to be licentious and devious."
A scoff fell from my lips before I could stop myself. Covering my mouth with my right hand, I shook my head. My left clenched around the hilt of the sword as hot anger curled under my breast.
"There's so much wrong with that. That's not how human reproduction works at all! A baby is a blank slate, not good, not evil, just a thing that can barely think until it grows. The thinking that we all have some inherent nature based on the circumstances of our birth is plainly false. If children grow to be, as you said, wanton and treacherous, it is a result of their rearing and the circumstances of their lives. We can break the factors down if you'd like."
Symon leaned back in surprise. He worked his jaw for a moment, disbelief warring with gratitude on his face.
"Were that everyone thought so, there would be far less suffering for natural children. I had assumed, as a highborn Lady, you would think differently. I'm glad to have been wrong. Perhaps we can save that for another time?"
Lowering my hand, I shook my head again and scowled. "I'm no noble. Yes, I think I was the beneficiary of my father's wealth and station, but I'm not from here. Don't assume I'm going to hate you or anyone else based on your cultural expectations." I softened my tone at the confusion on his face, adding, "I'm sorry, Symon. I think you shouldn't have had to live under that stigma, that nobody should. Yes, maybe we should change the subject."
He nodded, "Your first question, then. My mother was a washwoman serving House Ladybright when she and my father met. As she tells it, they truly did love each other, though his pursuit of wealth meant their meetings were rare. I met him once, when I was very young, though I do not remember the day very well. He died at sea not long after. I was raised by my uncle until my twelfth name day, though he left me to fend for myself. I'd either sink or I'd swim, he would often say. It was hard going and there were moments where I thought I would surely drown, but I managed to keep my head above water. As I said, I taught myself from the few books he let me study and found work wherever I could. As a bastard, finding the work was a little troublesome, but I made do and was often able to prove myself. When I wasn't, well, there was always the next merchant. I'm not sure what else there is to say about it."
"I see. Thank you. I'm glad you made it through that and that I had the opportunity to meet you, Symon."
Dipping his head, Symon grinned a roguish smile at me.
"That's quite kind of you. What of your childhood?"
Frowning, I looked away, down at the fire. It was getting a little low, so I stood and took up a piece of firewood from a stack up against one wall. I set it carefully in the flames and it began burning before I sat once more. I watched the wood blacken as it caught aflame for a moment before answering.
"I don't remember it."
"My apologies," he said quietly. "You do not have to tell me. Something else, perhaps?"
Shaking myself from my momentary ennui, I looked back at him and nodded.
"Why the kneeler thing?" I leaned forward, eager to learn more.
"Ah, yes, that. These wildlings see the smallfolk of the Seven Kingdoms as complacent and servile to their lords. The truth of the matter is more complicated, as these things tend to be. The lords must maintain a careful balance between the care of their holdings and the taxes demanded by their lieges and the Lords Paramount. Oftentimes, the common people choose headmen and organize their councils, not too dissimilar to the way the wildlings choose chiefs or clan mothers to follow. The lord's seneschal often works closely with those headmen and councils to facilitate the payment of taxes their lord demands. It is not unheard of for smallfolk to leave the lands of a greedy or cruel lord to labor under another House, though it is frowned upon by the lords. Lord Toland is a better lord than most and treats his people well. As a consequence, he was accused of stealing the smallfolk of nearby Houses no less than four times in the years I worked for House Toland. The smallfolk are not, as the wildlings believe, the property of the Houses."
I met his eyes, but I couldn't help the frown that pulled at my lips. That sounded a lot like feudalism.
He must have noticed my distaste, as he asked, "How was your realm, this Canada, organized?"
"It was a federal parliamentary constitutional monarchy." At his expression of incomprehension, I elaborated, "Federalized nations combine a central federal government with smaller regional governments. Each province could establish its own laws as long as they did not contravene the laws established by the federal government, for example. Parliamentary systems are a form of democratic government where the head of government, for us our Prime Minister, derives their power and authority from the confidence of parliament, something of a wide council whose members are elected from the population and collectively establish the laws of the land. While we were a monarchy and the head of state was royalty, the queen had no real power over the actual function of the state. Does that make any sense?"
Symon rubbed at his beard again as he considered what I'd said.
"Yes, I believe I understand what you are trying to explain. I need more time to consider it more deeply, I admit, but this makes some sense. In some ways, the Seven Kingdoms operate similarly. The Lords Paramount may establish or remove laws pertaining to their provinces, while the Iron Throne has the authority to do the same across the realm."
A comfortable silence descended on us. My eyes flicked to his crutch.
"Symon, if you're willing, I'll make you a better crutch. That looks uncomfortable to use."
Interest pulled his eyebrows up and he nodded sharply. "If you can do better than this, I'll take it."
I rapped a knuckle against the stump I sat on, "I'll make you some chairs, too. Real ones that don't wobble."
"Generous of you," Symon smiled at me, "I gladly accept the offer."
Smiling back, I thought of what to ask him. A pair of related topics interested me, so I put voice to them.
"What are maesters, and what is the Citadel?"
"Ah, the maesters are an order of scholars, healers, messengers, and investigators of the natural world. The Citadel is in Oldtown, an ancient city on Whispering Sound and the seat of House Hightower, and is where the order resides and initiates are educated. Any boy can come to the Citadel to learn, if they have the aptitude, regardless of the status of their birth. The Citadel will accept a baseborn boy as easily as they will a Targaryen princeling. As we learn and prove our knowledge, we forge chain links of metals associated with various fields of study and wear those chains around our necks to signify our understanding. The nobility can purchase the services of a maester from the Citadel, who will serve their host House until their death; those men all have a minimum of two links of black iron for ravenry, one of yellow gold for sums and numbers, one of red gold for the study of money and accounts, and three links of silver for medicine and healing. I had all of those and more, though my fields of choice were engineering and architecture. Lord Toland had requested a maester trained in the knowledge of building, you see, and I was the unlucky fellow chosen. Elsewise, I believe I would have spent the rest of my life in the Citadel, learning everything there is to know."
The Citadel sounded like a school. A university, even. The chain had some parallels with a degree, though one worn at the neck rather than framed and hung on a wall. I could empathize with him; I think I had felt much the same about my time at university. There were some scraps of memory attached to the thought, little glimpses into my life at school. I'd poured so much of myself into my studying that I think I hollowed myself out. At least, I remembered nights curled up in blankets on my bed, unable to sleep and staring at my desk where work waited for me to pick it up.
"I think I understand. The Citadel is a school that produces men valued for their education, yes?"
He nodded slowly, "I suppose that is one way of describing it, yes."
Perking up some, I grinned at him. "I attended a school like that. I'm not sure if I earned the doctorate I was going for, but I remember working my ass off for it. You and I have that much in common, at least."
Symon seemed disbelieving, slowly blinking before shaking his head.
"Women are not allowed into the Citadel. Higher understanding of our world is a realm for men and men alone."
Shocked, I reared back and almost toppled off the log stool. This seemed to have come from nowhere! Catching myself, I stared at him and scowled.
"You're not a stupid man, Symon. Is the idea of learned women somehow troublesome for you? If so, I will leave you in peace and we will not speak again."
His eyebrows drew down in confusion and his mouth flapped open and closed as he searched for something to say. It was not a flattering look on his otherwise handsome face.
"Well?" I challenged him, standing and leaning over the fire, heedless of the heat below and the smoke curling around my face.
He spluttered, then sketched a sitting bow.
"My apologies, Lady Maia. I did not mean to offend."
He reminded me of some men I'd known at school, ones who had genuine difficulties knowing what was and wasn't appropriate to say. I didn't see any malice in his features, just a lack of understanding. That was something I could address.
Stepping over the fire, I knelt next to him, working to soften my expression and tone. He watched me and tensed as I approached, his eyes flicking to the sword I wore at my waist.
"Symon, have you said that to the noblewomen you'd known?"
He closed his eyes and nodded, "I have, yes."
"That might be one of the reasons they didn't like you. At least, I'm assuming that's the case."
Opening his eyes, he met mine and nodded again. "You are correct, they did not, as you said, like me."
"Do you think women are lesser than men?" I asked, careful not to be too forceful. He was intelligent, he could see sense. I hoped. I'd hate for one of the few friends I'd made so far to think of me, to think of any woman, as lesser. I didn't know if I'd be able to handle that.
"That, ah, is the view of many." He raised a palm to his forehead and closed his eyes, "I'm Rhoynar. What am I saying? My mother would have stripped my hide for this fool thinking, and she'd have good reason. No, women are no less than men. I fear my time in the Citadel has twisted my sense about, and the Night's Watch twisted it further."
"A consequence of your education, I'm sure. How could you think differently when there are no women educated as you've been?" I sighed, shaking my head, "We all adapt to our environment, and the Citadel sounds… Well, it sounds like the kind of place where a lot of men will talk about women without really knowing them. Three and ten years, you said you spent there?"
He nodded, relaxing slightly, "Perhaps. Yes, that was what I said." He took a deep breath before asking, "What did you study at your Citadel of Canada?"
"It was the University of Winnipeg. There were many, many schools like it across the world. This might surprise you, but I studied architecture and engineering as well, though they were not my focus. I primarily studied physics because I wanted to understand the underpinnings of space and time."
He did indeed seem surprised. "I was not expecting that. Medicine, perhaps, or magic, given your strange hall."
Blinking at him, I cocked my head. "There's no such thing as magic. That is strictly limited to the realm of fantastic literature. Everything in nature has a rational explanation that doesn't rely on unexplainable," I raised my hands and waggled my fingers, "mysticism. Sure, there are always people who think differently, but nobody has shown me proof that magic is real. Even if one did, I'm sure there are mechanisms at work that simply haven't been studied fully enough."
Symon looked disbelieving at me, then he grinned as though I'd said something hilarious. He began to laugh, bellowing peals up at the roof that echoed around the small hut. After a moment, I joined in, though I wasn't sure what was so funny. It felt nice to laugh, though, and I wanted to take any opportunity I could. He mimicked my gesture, wiggling his fingers, trying to speak past his laughter but failing and slapping his knee instead as he doubled over. It took him a few moments to calm enough to speak again, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Oh, Seven above, I haven't laughed that hard in years. Here you are, claiming to be of another world and performing acts that any reasonable man would call magical, and you say it isn't magic. Ha!" He chuckled, "No, you decry the concept entirely! You'll find most maesters agree with you, though I've seen things that make me question. There are those in the Citadel who study the higher mysteries. Some even have Valyrian steel links in their chains." Shaking his head in bemusement, he peered at me. "How would you explain the hall you summoned, the manner of your survival in the waters of the Antler, the speed at which you built those sleds?"
"Ah…" I didn't have an answer for him. Credit to him, those each did seem incredible feats. I certainly wouldn't have believed it if someone had told me they'd done those things. While I didn't know how the lights in my head functioned, there was probably a completely reasonable explanation. I had foggy memories of a web novel where superpowers had been granted by titanic spaceborne colonial organisms that spanned whole realities, and while it was fiction, that was a far more believable concept for me than a blanket declaration that everything was somehow magical, and therefore unexplainable, in nature. These things could be explained if only I looked hard enough.
"Honestly, I don't know. I'll find out, though."
"Tell me when you do," Symon requested in good humor. "I think I'd like to hear what you've come up with."
I pat his knee, "You'll be the first to know what I learn."
Moving back over to my stool, I sat and rested my elbows on my knees, keeping my posture engaged without showing any defensiveness. It was strange to actively think about and I had a suspicion that one of my lights was to blame. I considered everything we'd talked about, searching for another topic of conversation.
"Oh." A thought struck me, "The way you talk about the Citadel makes me wonder, is it the Seven Kingdom's single center of learning?"
"Yes. There have been attempts by some of the lordly houses to build their own Citadels over the centuries, though each has failed."
"Education is rare, then?"
"Rare? Perhaps. I would rather say it is exclusive. Nobility can afford to pay the Citadel for a maester to join their household and educate their sons. For the smallfolk, the Church of the Seven-Pointed Star teaches a few basics, and often the noble daughters of the Houses are educated and governed by septas. Occasionally, a lord may hire tutors from across the Narrow Sea if they are unsatisfied with their maester's service or are seeking specific training for their children."
Quietly, I asked, "No schools for the common people?"
Symon shook his head and made a helpless gesture with his hands.
"There aren't a hundredth of the maesters needed for that and it is a topic that the conclave finds distasteful. There have been a few maesters who attempt such ventures, but only at the behest of their assigned lord, and they only last as long as it takes for the conclave to learn of their activities. Some maesters have even been recalled and their chains removed over it."
Grimacing, I looked at my hands, tracing the lines of my fingers with my eyes. I thought I could see why the Citadel wouldn't like the masses to be educated. It wouldn't do for them to have any competition when it came to who the lords would pay to teach their children. By maintaining only a single center of learning, each maester could be directed by their central authority to educate the next generation of nobility however this conclave likes. It would lead to a nasty self-reinforcing cycle; rather, it already has, I thought. I had an inkling that those other attempts to teach people beyond whatever line the conclave drew had been sabotaged, but that was only supposition and I had no evidence of that.
"And the people up here, north of the wall?"
He shook his head, frowning. "Nothing but what they can learn themselves."
Opportunity.
Leaning forward and meeting his eyes, I asked eagerly, "Does the conclave's power extend this far north?"
Symon barked a laugh, "No, not at all. How could they? Maesters are far too valuable to the Watch to be allowed on Rangings, barring extreme circumstances." He grimaced, rubbing at his injured leg. "Sometimes, though, I wish those men hadn't found that tunnel. I'd still be safely ensconced in Eastwatch's rookery. Ah, though there is the occasional maester who tries to travel among the wildlings, learn their ways, and write a pretty book on the experience. Maester Wyllis was the most recent and he lived some six centuries ago."
The idea I'd been playing with crystallized in my mind. The conclave couldn't do anything if I wanted to teach these people what I know. Symon seemed too bitter to act at the behest of his order, and there was no wonder why. It sounded like he'd had the equivalent legitimacy of several degrees taken from him. If that had happened to me, I'd refuse to work with them, for sure.
I clapped my hands once, smiling widely at him.
"Then I will teach them!"
I could manage that; education was one of the fundamental basics underpinning a functional society, or so my lights were telling me. Those same lights had granted me everything I thought I might need to know on the subject, and a wealth of knowledge came alongside, just waiting to be passed on to others. I felt a thrum of excitement run through me; I might have finally found a purpose!
Symon's eyebrows rose higher than ever before, blinking in clear disbelief, mouth drawn in a frown. He sat a little straighter, resting his hands on his knees and peering at me like I'd gone suddenly strange. Well, stranger than I had been, I supposed.
"What?"
I nodded excitedly, my words tumbling out in a rush, "I have so much to offer! Mathematics, engineering, critical reasoning skills, medicine, and so much more! See, I believe in a concept called freedom of education, that every person should be able to pursue learning to whatever degree they desire, after they've reached a standard of education, at least. I have the skills to educate and I feel quite inclined towards it. Yes, I think this might be great!"
He was rubbing his beard again. By now, I was fairly certain it was just something he did while he thought deeply.
"I don't know if such a thing is possible. I've been with the wildlings for several years, and I've never seen any inclination towards education. Information, sometimes, but never learning for the sake of learning."
Crossing one leg over the other, I set my elbow on one knee and leaned forward to rest my chin in my hand. My booted foot bounced as I looked at the fire and thought.
"These people don't seem as though they have much, and what they do have is clearly very precious to them. As a society, there may not be enough resources to go around to support higher learning. Every man or woman who spends an hour a day in a class is one less hunter."
He tugged at the hairs on his chin as he followed my gaze towards the dancing flames.
"That is one conclusion I've come to, yes. Beyond that, however, they are very stubborn. They respect strength and ability above all else, so unless you can prove yourself as having great merit, I doubt they would listen to you."
I nodded, "Well, I'll have to do something to prove myself, of course." I started to contemplate what might be suitable, then realized I didn't know any of these folks well enough to even hazard a guess. Construction at the speed and quality I was capable of was impressive, but I doubted it'd be enough. No, I'd have to ask around, I think.
Strength and ability… I had one of those, at least.
"What do you suggest I should do?"
He frowned, "The best you can do is contribute. Survival is hard out here, as comfortable as these people are in the cold."
I cocked my head, "Why do you speak as though you aren't one of them? It seems they've accepted you."
"It is complicated." He looked uncomfortable but continued. "Remember that I was, for a time, a member of the Night's Watch. I was wounded and Brisha cared for me, yes, but she did not like me. I was never a good watchman, and I'd never wanted to take the black to begin with. Some may call me an oathbreaker, but a forced oath is no more binding than the wind. That matters little to the wildlings, all they see is a Night's Watchman."
"Tell me more of the Night's Watch? What oaths did they force on you?"
He nodded, "The Night's Watch has manned the Wall for thousands of years. Reportedly, since it was built, though I doubt the veracity of those claims. Bran the Builder, hah," Shaking his head, he pulled at his black cloak, lifting it to show me. "The men of the watch swear vows of service to defend the lands of the south from… I used to believe the wildlings, but after yesterday, I fear those oaths were for the things we saw. Many who join today have been sent to the Watch for crimes committed and very few join voluntarily. Would you care to hear the words of the oath?"
I nodded, "Yes, please."
He began to recite, "Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."
Fascinating, that. Walls, plural? Who were the sleepers?
"I take it that the life of a watchman is not pleasant?"
He chuckled, "That's not even the tenth of it. Once, the watch was flush with recruits and supplies from the kingdoms of the south. Tens of thousands of men stood at the Wall, and all eight and ten castles along it were well maintained. Mayhaps it wasn't so bad then. Now, there are less than three thousand watchmen in total, most of whom are criminals, and only three of the castles are in use. Eastwatch, where I was stationed, Castle Black, where the Lord Commander administrates from, and the Shadow Tower. The only aid in these years comes from the Northern lords, and even then, it is quite sparing of luxuries."
Shaking his head, he lowered the cloak and rubbed his arm.
"No, I find myself much more comfortable here. I've never had the constitution for cold weather, but there is something about freedom from the whims of kings and lords that is appealing."
"I'm sorry if this is a sensitive question, but why did you join the watch?"
Frowning, Symon shrugged. "It wasn't by choice. If you must know the great crime I committed to warrant a lifelong exile, listen close."
He leaned forward, meeting my eyes with a fierce intensity. "Lord Toland had a habit of taking liberties with the smallfolk women, oft by force. I protested and was rebuffed. I penned a letter to the Citadel requesting reassignment and was ignored. Finally, I wrote to Grand Maester Pycelle in King's Landing, as the man served the King himself. Within a sennight, I was put in shackles and tossed in the dungeon by the lord's armsmen, then given the choice between the gibbet or taking the black."
"What?" I was taken aback, "They were going to kill you for that?"
He nodded seriously. "I learned that day that the nobility wasn't nearly so noble as they try to appear."
I believed him. I had the luxury of enough knowledge of history to be able to look back on the brutality and excesses of aristocracies across human civilization, but this man had lived through some of that.
"Well, maybe the nobility needs to be deposed. Maybe I'm a hypocrite, but I don't think people who are raised knowing they can do, essentially, whatever they want are well suited to govern. Maybe it's all that Westeros has, fine, but it doesn't have to be this way."
"What," he laughed, "Depose the nobility? That could never happen. This has been the way of the world for thousands of years. If it could change, it would have."
I grinned back at him, "That's thousands of years too long, then. Maybe all that's needed for change is for someone with the will to take a hammer to the system. Though, to avoid chaos, there must be another system prepared to fill the vacancy."
"And that someone is you, eh?" He chuckled, "As wondrous a witch you may be, you're but one woman."
He had a point. I doubted I'd be able to do anything major alone. It was a societal problem and needed to be engaged from that perspective.
I tapped my lips in thought. "You do have a point. I'll have to think about this, but I'm opposed to the concept of feudalism regardless of my efficacy. Freeing people from the yoke of a caste system is a worthy goal. I want to live in a world where men like you aren't shunned for the circumstances of their birth, where the average person has all of the resources and care they need to live their best lives. Is that so terrible a cause?"
How could I ever live with myself if I just turned away from those problems? I can enact real positive change for everyone suffering under feudal societies. I had to try. My ethics demanded it of me.
Ah, I was someone who tried to act ethically. That was good to know. It certainly helped explain my concern over consent.
"I suppose that is not a terrible goal, no," Symon said slowly, studying me. "Who would take power? You?"
"No!" Shaking my head, "No, I don't want that. I'm not one for politics. I'd rather the people organize themselves, as you'd mentioned they already choose headmen and councils. We can build on that foundation."
"I see. I believe this will be a matter of long discussion." He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair, grinning at me. "I'm looking forward to it, I must say."
"For sure. I am as well."
Another comfortable silence fell over us, my head spinning with everything I'd learned so far. I wasn't sure what to ask now, so I thought it might be good to move on and talk to some of the others around the village.
Standing, I stretched, "So, do you have any particular requests for your crutch? Types of wood? Style? I'm not sure how much padding we have for your underarm, but I'll shape it to be as comfortable for you as I can."
"Well, I'd prefer it to not be too heavy if you can manage that. I don't care which wood or style you use so long as it works."
Nodding, I tapped my chin as I shuffled about my mental design space.
"Alright. I'll do what I can. And, hey, I'm not upset at you. I mean, if you're the kind of person who needs that to be stated clearly."
He seemed flummoxed for a moment. "I… Thank you, Lady Maia. For your understanding."
"I might be a lady, but I'm not a Lady," I reminded him with a chuckle. "Save the titles for those who demand them. Please, just call me Maia. It'll be more comfortable for everyone, I promise. You won't be expecting me to act as you think Ladies act, for one, and I don't need everyone else thinking I'm one of those people the kneelers kneel to. You understand, don't you?"
"I think I do. Just Maia, eh? I'll remember."
"Thanks, Symon. I'll have your crutch ready soon." I pulled the rough wooden door open and stepped outside into the sunlight.
The clouds had thinned while I'd been talking to him, now only the rare silver-white puff was visible in the sky. The sun had risen towards its zenith, and I reckoned it was late morning. I wished once more that I had some means to tell the time.