“The Wanderers have no home. Like the Houseborn, they, too, are swept into the sea as hatchlings, but when the time comes to make the transition to the land, they fail to return to their place of origin. Lacking the proper instincts to heed the voice of the water, the Wanderers are proven to be weak. They work harder to attain the same knowledge we Houseborn come by naturally.”
Ezri refrained from commenting. Instead, she asked, “But where do Wanderer hatchlings end up, if not at their own Houses?”
“They come ashore to other Houses, where they are taken in and raised as servants.”
“And this Delegate Keren,” Ezri said, recalling the slightly built, feisty Yrythny leader who scaled the pillar and effectively dispersed the mob. “She is—?”
“Delegate Keren is a Wanderer. A representative elected to voice Wanderer interests in the Lower Assembly. She is also trouble,” he added quietly. “Over time—in the last two centuries especially—the Wanderers have attained more rights and privileges. Keren, I’m certain, would try to convince you otherwise.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing both sides of the story,” Ezri said truthfully.
Jeshoh smiled and shrugged. “I suspected you wouldn’t. You seem very inquisitive, which is a trait my people admire. But I feel I should warn you, she’ll make it sound worse than it is. With their advanced educations, Wanderers have earned positions in the sciences and arts. They were chiefly responsible for the building of Luthia, originally as an escape from planetside living. Now, Luthia hosts half our population. Wanderers still live separate, primarily congregated in the oldest part of the ring. They call it the Old Quarter.”
“I take it the mob in the plaza were unhappy Wanderers.” Unhappy was putting it mildly. Maybe enraged? Perhaps even seething with retribution?
“The Wanderers believe the Houseborn will use the war with the Cheka to rescind their rights—or use it as an excuse to avoid advancing their rights. Either way, they’re misguided.” While he spoke, a servant knelt beside Jeshoh, poured oil from a small pitcher onto his arms and massaged it into his skin. He carried on without acknowledging her presence.
Ezri pursed her lips, considering the best way to phrase her next question. “From what you’ve said, it sounds like the Wanderers have tremendous opportunities. What else do they want?”
Jeshoh sat silent, submitting his limbs to the servant’s ministrations: the other arm, a lower leg, the other leg. Ezri hoped his silence meant he was considering her question, not that she had overstepped her bounds.
Finally, he clicked his tongue, dismissing the servant. He said softly, leaning closer to Ezri, “They want arms—to serve in our military. They don’t trust the Houseborn to defend them,” he shook his head. “They want to join the Houseborn in the waters and have offspring. But they fail to see that passing on their flawed instincts will weaken our species.”
“And in spite of progress toward more equal rights for the Wanderers, you still have a hard time living together, I take it?” If the groups in the front and back of this dining room not mingling are any indicator, I’d have to say the answer is “yes,”Ezri thought.
“The Cheka barricades magnify the problems. Since we began associations with other species, our society has reconfigured itself around interstellar trade. Supply shortages and economic setbacks make people afraid and angry.” Jeshoh paused, looked around to make sure no one was listening before whispering, “Rumors of a Wanderer underground movement are being voiced in committee meetings, not just gossiped about in the marketplace.”
And the real reason we were almost killed in cold blood starts to emerge.“That’s a very serious situation.”
“And we’ve yet to find a practical way to resolve it. Neither side trusts the other,” he paused again, looking around to see who might be listening in on their conversation. “We haven’t had war on Vanìmel in 200 years, but…”
Ezri grasped the Vice Chair’s meaning. Though the Yrythny had lived in relative peace for two centuries, Jeshoh feared conflict was imminent. What have we stumbled into?She wondered what Vaughn and the others had learned.
Unbidden, she remembered how Curzon’s deft maneuvering had prevented one of the early Proxcinian crises from exploding into war. “You say you traffic with other species routinely. Have you thought about utilizing third party mediation to open up talks with the Wanderers?” she said finally.
“Explain,” Jeshoh said, puzzled.
“Bringing in a neutral party to facilitate talks between the warring sides. Oftentimes, someone from the outside—one who isn’t invested in one side or the other—is better at determining what points are negotiable and what points each side needs to be flexible on.” As she spoke, she drew an imaginary diagram on the tabletop with her fingers. “A third party functions as the apex of a triangle, balancing the single line binding the conflicted parties together by drawing lines among all three.”
Jeshoh smiled indulgently. “Unfortunately, economic relationships being what they are, our neighbors may be counted upon only to act in their own best interests. Actively helping to stabilize the situation on Vanìmel would damage their standing with the Cheka, who are the dominant economic power in this region.”
From the table behind Jeshoh, the Yrythny cleric turned around abruptly, throwing aside a bowl of fish noodles to gape at Ezri. “A third between the Wanderers and the Houseborn,” he said, eyes wide with excitement. He didn’t bother to plunge his dirty hands into the basin, instead electing to rub them on his robes.
Sipping from a water glass, she reiterated, “Third party mediation is hardly a new idea.”
“The third forges a whole peace?” the cleric persisted.
Ezri looked at the cleric, then at Jeshoh for clarification—he had none—and then back at the cleric. “I suppose,” she said, wondering what he was getting at.
The cleric grabbed Jeshoh by the shoulder and shook him. “It’s the Other. What she says follows the pattern of the Other.”
Jeshoh’s confusion gradually dissipated. “Perhaps,” he said, prying the cleric’s fingers off his shoulder. “It may be worth considering, at least.”
By now, loud Yrythny voices clamored on all sides of Ezri; benches were shoved back as individuals of all ranks squeezed into the spaces around her, and with shoulders and elbows bumping, gesticulated madly. Julian shot her worried looks; she ignored him. Contrary to what he might suppose, she did not start whatever this thing was and she wasn’t about to be blamed for it. He was a little too quick to fall in with Benjamin and his “She’s a Dax. Sometimes they don’t think, they just do” aphorism. Had Benjamin ever had the nerve to say that to my face? Hah!No matter what anyone might think, she didn’t go looking for trouble all the time. Especially not thistime.
Another Yrythny beside Jeshoh stood up, raising a hand, asking for acknowledgment from the Yrythny leader, Rashoh, who was seated beside Vaughn. “Assembly Chair, our good cleric has a rather startling idea that merits immediate consideration!”
With one swift movement, the cleric hefted Ezri to her feet, threw a food-speckled arm around her shoulder and clutched her to him as he approached the head table. “Good Master, Lensoh speaks truly. This one—this visitor from far away—has been sent by the Other to finally bind together our fractured world.” He squeezed Ezri for emphasis, his fingers bruising her upper arm.
“I never said that,” Ezri protested. “That’s notwhat I said. I said that the Wanderers and Houseborn should consider third-party mediation…”
Vaughn looked at Ezri quizzically; she shrugged her shoulders as if to say, I swear to you I don’t know what he’s talking about.Still, with virtually every pair of Yrythny eyes fixed on her, she knew she’d be doing some accounting to Vaughn later but she hoped it would be for laughs. Vaughn had a decent sense of humor. Usually.