tasted horrible.”
“Just give me a hand with the wine,” Hess
said.
Chapter 17 - Erik / Iteration 2
Beeta's family
surrounded her all night. Mott spent the evening meal elaborating
on his story of treating his fictional sister's madness. The
village elders hung on every word. Before he retired to a pallet in
the guest pavilion that night, Beeta's mother stopped by to beg for
his help.
So it was that the villagers delivered a
crazy woman into his care the next morning. Beeta sagged between
her escorts, an expression of profound apathy on her face.
Mott schooled his features into the concerned
smile he had practiced. “Hello, Beeta. My name is Mott. Did they
tell you about me?”
Beeta's lips formed into an innocent pout.
“Dead sister.”
Her escorts froze in mortification until
Mott's laughter rang out. “Dead sister indeed. You go right to the
heart of things.”
The crazy woman's cultivated detachment
slipped enough that she openly studied him. “What do you want?”
Mott shrugged. “All sorts of things. Isn't
that how it is with everyone? If we wanted only one thing, life
would be boring.”
“What do you want with me?”
“What do you think I want with you?”
Beeta looked away from him. “You think you
can fix me.”
“Is that what they told you?” Mott put enough
amusement into his tone that Beeta's eyes came back to him. “That
is what they wanted to hear and not what I told them.”
“You're not trying to fix me?”
“Have you ever thought that maybe you aren't
broken?”
She kicked over the chamber pot he had filled
the previous night. “You don't know anything about me.”
“Neither do the people of your village. They
think you are broken, but so far I haven't seen anything to
convince me of that. I see a woman with a strong spirit. You see,
Beeta, the more tightly the rules bind us, the more we want our
freedom. People say it is wrong to say mean words. Wrong to think
violent thoughts. Wrong to want unpopular things. But we have a
choice, Beeta. We can believe the people and despise ourselves or
we can reject everything they hold dear and take our freedom.”
Mott stepped closer to Beeta and dropped his
voice to a whisper. “You see, Beeta, when I told everyone that my
sister had a touch of madness and I was able to speak sense to her,
I may have reversed a few of the details.”
He glanced to her concerned escorts and spoke
loud enough to be heard by all. “Do you think that your troubles
come from your own mind, Beeta? Or is there a chance that other
people provoke the anger from you? What do you think?”
She furrowed her brow in thought. “I don't
know. Sometimes my thoughts run fast and I know I am right no
matter what anyone says. But other times I believe everything they
say of me and I only want for the pain to go away.”
“Yesterday you were sad.”
“Yes.”
“And what of today?”
“I don't know. I'm just tired. So tired.”
Mott nodded to her escorts. “Too tired to
escape?”
Beeta recoiled. “I can't do that!”
“Why not?”
“My mother would worry!”
“Just for a day, until you came back.”
She shook her head. “I can't hurt her any
more.”
“Whose rule is that? Yours? Or theirs?”
A pause. Then a smile. “You're worse than
me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You ran away, didn't you? So your sister
couldn't make you behave anymore. Now you're free and you can do
anything you want.”
“I don't want your guards to know my story.
So if you want to hear the truth about me, then we have to
escape.”
The corners of Beeta's lips twitched.
“Promise me you will tell me the full truth of any question I ask
you.”
“The full truth?”
“You have to promise if you want me to come
with you.”
“Very well, Beeta. I promise to tell you the
full truth.”
“On three, then.” Her eyes sparkled. “One.”
And then she was running, leaving him waiting for additional
numbers that weren't coming. Mott followed after a
“Just give me a hand with the wine,” Hess
said.
Chapter 17 - Erik / Iteration 2
Beeta's family
surrounded her all night. Mott spent the evening meal elaborating
on his story of treating his fictional sister's madness. The
village elders hung on every word. Before he retired to a pallet in
the guest pavilion that night, Beeta's mother stopped by to beg for
his help.
So it was that the villagers delivered a
crazy woman into his care the next morning. Beeta sagged between
her escorts, an expression of profound apathy on her face.
Mott schooled his features into the concerned
smile he had practiced. “Hello, Beeta. My name is Mott. Did they
tell you about me?”
Beeta's lips formed into an innocent pout.
“Dead sister.”
Her escorts froze in mortification until
Mott's laughter rang out. “Dead sister indeed. You go right to the
heart of things.”
The crazy woman's cultivated detachment
slipped enough that she openly studied him. “What do you want?”
Mott shrugged. “All sorts of things. Isn't
that how it is with everyone? If we wanted only one thing, life
would be boring.”
“What do you want with me?”
“What do you think I want with you?”
Beeta looked away from him. “You think you
can fix me.”
“Is that what they told you?” Mott put enough
amusement into his tone that Beeta's eyes came back to him. “That
is what they wanted to hear and not what I told them.”
“You're not trying to fix me?”
“Have you ever thought that maybe you aren't
broken?”
She kicked over the chamber pot he had filled
the previous night. “You don't know anything about me.”
“Neither do the people of your village. They
think you are broken, but so far I haven't seen anything to
convince me of that. I see a woman with a strong spirit. You see,
Beeta, the more tightly the rules bind us, the more we want our
freedom. People say it is wrong to say mean words. Wrong to think
violent thoughts. Wrong to want unpopular things. But we have a
choice, Beeta. We can believe the people and despise ourselves or
we can reject everything they hold dear and take our freedom.”
Mott stepped closer to Beeta and dropped his
voice to a whisper. “You see, Beeta, when I told everyone that my
sister had a touch of madness and I was able to speak sense to her,
I may have reversed a few of the details.”
He glanced to her concerned escorts and spoke
loud enough to be heard by all. “Do you think that your troubles
come from your own mind, Beeta? Or is there a chance that other
people provoke the anger from you? What do you think?”
She furrowed her brow in thought. “I don't
know. Sometimes my thoughts run fast and I know I am right no
matter what anyone says. But other times I believe everything they
say of me and I only want for the pain to go away.”
“Yesterday you were sad.”
“Yes.”
“And what of today?”
“I don't know. I'm just tired. So tired.”
Mott nodded to her escorts. “Too tired to
escape?”
Beeta recoiled. “I can't do that!”
“Why not?”
“My mother would worry!”
“Just for a day, until you came back.”
She shook her head. “I can't hurt her any
more.”
“Whose rule is that? Yours? Or theirs?”
A pause. Then a smile. “You're worse than
me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You ran away, didn't you? So your sister
couldn't make you behave anymore. Now you're free and you can do
anything you want.”
“I don't want your guards to know my story.
So if you want to hear the truth about me, then we have to
escape.”
The corners of Beeta's lips twitched.
“Promise me you will tell me the full truth of any question I ask
you.”
“The full truth?”
“You have to promise if you want me to come
with you.”
“Very well, Beeta. I promise to tell you the
full truth.”
“On three, then.” Her eyes sparkled. “One.”
And then she was running, leaving him waiting for additional
numbers that weren't coming. Mott followed after a
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