Jessie
The blood red stones of Avenue St. Sofia arced broadly, giving berth to the Temple of the Martyrs before returning to follow the gentle curve of the Rio del Corazon. Perched atop a small, forested hill, the gray stone towers of the temple rose above the trees like a walled fortress. Jessie Larivee shivered at its sight, and turned onto the nearest side street, a muddy lane lined with colorful, stucco houses. Best one avoid St. Sofia at this point, or risk being accosted by one of those annoying acolytes.
Michel often teased her about her extreme aversion to things religious, and she could laugh at herself in her better moments, but the Temple of New Life worried her. When Jessie first arrived on Sweetland seventeen years ago, Meadow Springs had been a tiny hamlet on the Muddy Red River on the far south frontier between Deep Water and Red Sky. At that time, the so-called Temple of New Life was a small group of scientists with an odd assortment of gnostic beliefs. She had convinced herself that all that superstition would simply fade away after a few years on Sweetland, that it was merely a necessary evil to help the people adjust to their new reality. That had been their line, and at fourteen Jessie had swallowed the worm, hook and all. But the Necessary Evil had taken on a new and threatening life of its own.
Over the years Meadow Springs had quadrupled in size, but it still contained less than 500 souls, until the Sisters orchestrated the evacuation of the frontier. The threat had been real, she had no doubt about that, but what bothered Jessie was the fact that the Sisters had come for them, rather than the Concilio. The Sisters were everywhere in Sangre del Corazon, on the councils, in the guilds and the marketplace, and in the schools. They had become powerful enough that they now openly challenged the secularist majority on the Concilio.
Of course, that was their right. It was a democracy, after all, and as long as they abided by its secular principles, well…
She pushed away all thought of the Temple, and contemplated the mysterious message she had received yesterday, the catalyst which had sent her on this unplanned trip to Refugee City. Arlena Anderson, a fellow refugee from the upper settlements, had sent a note by messenger. “Dear Jessie, please come to 29 Calle del Nuevo Mundo tomorrow at noon. We’ll have lunch. I have important news you will want to hear.”
That was the entire message. Now, she was wondering if the news had something to do with Joey and Molly. She had been sick thinking about them since the evacuation four months ago. What was going to happen when they returned to Meadow Springs to find it abandoned. She had left a message for them there, instructing them to make their way down river to Sangre del Corazon. But would they find it? If only there were some way to reach them, tell them to stay put with Bridge until this whole thing became sorted out.
Dark thoughts stirring, Jessie arrived at Avenue of the Disappeared and turned east onto the empty, narrow street. Following the southern edge of the town, the avenue’s round, red stones eventually merged back into Avenue St. Sofia as it looped around the peninsula. Bordering Avenue of the Disappeared to the southeast lay the ramshackle Refugee City. It held nearly twenty-thousand people, twice as large as Sangre del Corazon proper.
Refugee City had a reputation for being untamed, like the upper settlements of the Muddy Red from which most of its residents came. Something happens to you when you become a refugee—you lose an anchor, you lose trust in those who had once been your friends and neighbors. Anger stirred here just beneath the surface, and she felt its intensity whenever she visited.
Accompanying it was her own guilt for not living with her people. Michel’s work and Jessie’s connection with Felicia had pushed them into an older part of the city. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, influence and favoritism weren’t supposed to procure special treatment in the New World, but there it was. Felicia’s mother, a physician, had a house with an extra room, and it would have been awkward to refuse, so Jessie acquiesced.
Calle del Nuevo Mundo was no more than a muddy alley, the house she sought no more than a crudely made shack, its tiny yard strewn with debris, a temporary shelter until it was safe for its residents to return to the upper settlements, or more likely, a new home to the more hospitable north. The refugees were divided over that question. Many were tired of the harsh winters and difficult frontier life in the South.
After carefully traversing the street’s swampy ruts, Jessie arrived and knocked on the rough plank door. A youngish woman with a weather-aged face like the timbers answered wearing a rough country smock and the trousers of a field worker. She looked at Jessie without smiling.
“Welcome, Jessie,” she said.
“Hello, Arlena,” Jessie replied. “How have you been?”
“Getting by. Please come in.” Arlena stepped aside to usher Jessie through the door.
Jessie ducked slightly to clear the low doorway. Dim light filtered through two tiny windows on the north side of the house, illuminating a small room, void of decoration. Two dark figures sat in the shadows, peering up at her. A vague anxiety overcame her. “I didn’t know there would be others joining us.”
One of the figures stood, a tall woman in the deep red robe of a Sister. Not just any Sister, but a Sofia. Jessie’s anxiety deepened.
“Sorry, Jessie,” said Arlena. “This is Sister Magda. The Sisters have something important to talk to you about.”
“I’m the one who must apologize,” said Sister Magda. “I asked Arlena to keep our attendance confidential. This is a very delicate matter. It involves your son, Ms. Larivee.”
Confusion supplanted anxiety. Why were the Sisters involved with Joey? “I don’t understand.”
“We are here to tell you that your son, Joey, is safely under the care of the Sisters of the Temple.”
Confusion gave way to relief and then suspicion. “Sorry, Sister. A Sofia comes to a secret meeting in Refugee City to tell me Joey is safe? Not damned likely.”
“You’re very astute, Ms. Larivee. We have, shall we say, other motives. We would like to bring Joey here, to you, but we need your cooperation.”
Fury bubbled up from Jessie’s depths. “It’s my fucking mother, isn’t it?”
“I assure you, we don’t work for your mother. This is a very complex situation. You seem to have some political savvy, so I’ll try to be as candid as possible with you.”
“I won’t hold my breath.” Jessie regretted her sharp tongue, even before the words left it. But Sister Magda merely smiled, indulgently.
“This is the situation, Jessie, if I may call you by your given name.” It didn’t sound like a question. “Your son has become a pawn in a political game. Although he is in our care, it is only because we have made a temporary alliance with Jolene Cheng. Miss Cheng’s enemies would like to do harm to the boy. Do you understand?”
“I understand that my mother is a ruthless woman, and I don’t trust her or you or any of your Sisters to have my son’s best interest at heart.”
“Then look at this as a chess game, Jessie, and let me give you the layout of the board. We would like to move Joey to Sangre del Corazon. We can’t do that without Jolene Cheng’s cooperation. Ms. Cheng needs something from you—she wants to open a dialogue with the Concilio. She is interested in an alliance of sorts with The Communities. Ms. Cheng is in a power struggle, and an alliance would be beneficial to both sides.”
Jessie scowled at Sister Magda. “And your interest in this?”
“We want to reunite a mother and son, nothing more than that.”
Fat chance, thought Jessie. “What about my sister, Molly?”
Sister Magda handed her a card. “Molly is safe, Jessie. We can bring her, too. Think about what I’ve told you. It’s what we call a win-win situation.”
“Sister, the problem with win-win situations is that they may be good for everyone at the table, but it’s the onlookers you step on as you dance together out the door—those are the ones I worry about.”
Sister Magda gave her a deep, appraising look, and smiled wryly.
©2010–2011, Duane Poncy
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