Rise of the Godking
6 The Pi
The laughter swept over him, reverberating from all directions and making him scramble to and fro, trying to study the faces of the slaves to understand just why they were reacting in this peculiar manner.
It stopped, abruptly, when the sound of a whip echoed from somewhere behind them.
In an orderly fashion, as if they had done it many times before, the slaves cleared a path, and through it, a familiar man walked forward. He was wearing the hide of some animal, and although he was smaller than the hangman, he had no less muscle on his arms and legs. He was bald, and his headless pate was crisscrossed with scars.
This was the taskmaster. As Daneel regarded him with suspicious eyes while he walked closer, he remembered all the times that the man had sucked up to him, even accompanying him on many of the instances when they had toured the town, looking for victims that would die under their hands.
Now, none of that groveling nature was present. Instead, there was only the grim satisfaction of a dog whose day had finally come, and after stepping in front of Daneel… he raised the whip, and brought it down on his chest.
Even though he saw it in time, he had no strength to move. He could only follow its path with his eyes as it flew in the air, and after it landed, he closed his eyes so tightly that tears seeped from their corners. His body also shuddered as even more agony was added to a well whose depth kept increasing, and for a brief instant… rage coursed through him, making him want to get up and bury his fist in the man's smug face. It passed as quickly as it came, though, mainly because although the impulse was strong, there was no power to back it up.
"Enough of that, here. I will not have a slave who owes so much die because of a personal vendetta. See that he's worked well… and the rest of you, if you kill him, you will have hell to pay. His debts will be transferred to you, and you will be worked even harder, so you better keep them alive. Now, take your new brother, and go back where you came from."
Walking away, Harold gave the command, his tone as dry as if he was describing the weather. The taskmaster looked annoyed for a second, but he wiped away the expression quickly, fearing the fate that might fall upon him if he showed it to the world. He did look at Daneel from the corner of his eyes after that, as if promising that what was going to come for him would come despite whatever his ex-father had said, and after that, he shouted, "You heard the master! Get moving! And take this trash with you!"
The edges of the group had started slinking away as soon as they had heard Harold's command. The rest began to move, now, shooting dirty looks at Daneel. As he watched them all, he realized something. He didn't mind the animosity was being shown; it was par for the course when considering everything he had done. What affected him the most… were the empty eyes of a considerable amount of slaves who seemed as if they were in a waking dream. He had noticed that they had been slow to laugh before, too, and had only done so after being caught up in the mood of the crowd. Now, as they walked away, they shambled here and there, bumping into the others who didn't say anything as if they were used to it.
If circumstances were different, he would have liked to think more about this phenomenon… but he soon saw a new problem that had been presented to him. The taskmaster was standing a few feet away, fondling the whip much in the same way that the hangman had fondled his lasso. He seemed to be waiting for something… and it only took a few seconds for Daneel to understand what it was.
He wanted an excuse, and it would soon be presented to him if Daneel lingered there even after the master had given his command.
Desperately, he looked at his new brothers who had been told to help him.
'They're following the rest of the orders well… so why don't they follow this one, too?'
As the last of them started to melt away, he tried to get up, but failed instantly. The chortle of the taskmaster sounded from behind him, filled with glee and sick joy.
'Harold said I had to be kept alive, right? Well, maybe it won't be so bad…'
He tried to lie to himself, but when he turned to him, the eyes of the taskmaster gave the man's intention away. In them, he could see his future. He would be whipped to an inch of his life, and when he was too injured to work, the man might cite that as an excuse to whip him even more, until it turned into an endless cycle that would only end with his miserable death a few years later. When he had spoken before, he had done so with the plan that he could figure out a plan to escape later, but if he was constantly fighting to live, where would he find the time to do anything else?
"Come on."
A voice interrupted these grim musings. A hand caught him by his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet, and although the one who had done so had been anything but delicate, he was extremely thankful. Expecting it to be the healer who had been the only one to show him kindness so far, he turned to the man… and blinked as he saw that it was the one who had been called Sebastien.
It wasn't hard to connect the two events of him walking out and that of the angry crowd of people arriving. It seemed obvious that he had gone and called them… but if so, why was he helping him, now?
"Don't look so surprised. Before, you were a disgraced young master. Now… you are a slave. You're one of us. The rest might have forgotten, but a few of us remember. When one is shackled, their past is burned away. You haven't officially become a slave, yet… but you soon will. This doesn't mean that I hate you any less, by the way. Your wounds are healing due to my brother's hard work, so you better not let any of it go to waste."
Daneel didn't know what to think for a few moments. After that, he smiled briefly, finding a nugget of unexpected humanity in what had seemed like a heartless hellhole until now.
It gave him hope, and quickly, Daneel saw how precious it was. Even the worst of situations would feel better if one possessed this invaluable flame, and right now, he felt indebted to Sebastien because he had given this gift without intending to do so.
The taskmaster growled behind them, and Daneel understood that the man might be targeting both of them now. He didn't feel afraid, though; from his memories, it was obvious that he was a simple man, and hence, he was confident that he would be able to see anything that he came up with from a mile away.
The success of the sudden plan that had come to him also bolstered his confidence. The only thing still puzzling him was the reason behind why all the slaves had laughed, and looking up, he decided to put the question to Sebastien, even though he was unsure whether he would get an answer.
The words died on his lips when his eyes fell upon a structure in the direction they were heading. Gigantic crimson-colored crystals shot into the air from the ground, their tips gleaming in the sunlight, shining as red as blood. They pulsed with each second, and when a slave reached them, he or she would walk right through and disappear.
Each time this happened, the shards would glow menacingly. Arraying in a circular fashion, they looked like a gateway to hell…but the most disconcerting thing wasn't their color or their shape. No…it was the bones that surrounded them, piled taller than three men standing on top of each other.
As Daneel gaped, Sebastien paused and spoke beside him, answering the question that he had been about to ask.
"The Pit. See those bones? They belong to the slaves that tried to get away. Even in death, they are trapped here, never to leave, never to be free. If you're wondering why the others laughed before…its because of your foolishness. Death is a release they look forward to happily. That is why they enjoy watching hangings so much. You spit on the gift given to you…and chose a fate far worse. Any one of them would be willing to take your place in a heartbeat, so seeing what you did, what else could they do, but laugh at your idiocy? Well…let's get on with it, then. If you don't understand the answer now, you will soon, young master."
It stopped, abruptly, when the sound of a whip echoed from somewhere behind them.
In an orderly fashion, as if they had done it many times before, the slaves cleared a path, and through it, a familiar man walked forward. He was wearing the hide of some animal, and although he was smaller than the hangman, he had no less muscle on his arms and legs. He was bald, and his headless pate was crisscrossed with scars.
This was the taskmaster. As Daneel regarded him with suspicious eyes while he walked closer, he remembered all the times that the man had sucked up to him, even accompanying him on many of the instances when they had toured the town, looking for victims that would die under their hands.
Now, none of that groveling nature was present. Instead, there was only the grim satisfaction of a dog whose day had finally come, and after stepping in front of Daneel… he raised the whip, and brought it down on his chest.
Even though he saw it in time, he had no strength to move. He could only follow its path with his eyes as it flew in the air, and after it landed, he closed his eyes so tightly that tears seeped from their corners. His body also shuddered as even more agony was added to a well whose depth kept increasing, and for a brief instant… rage coursed through him, making him want to get up and bury his fist in the man's smug face. It passed as quickly as it came, though, mainly because although the impulse was strong, there was no power to back it up.
"Enough of that, here. I will not have a slave who owes so much die because of a personal vendetta. See that he's worked well… and the rest of you, if you kill him, you will have hell to pay. His debts will be transferred to you, and you will be worked even harder, so you better keep them alive. Now, take your new brother, and go back where you came from."
Walking away, Harold gave the command, his tone as dry as if he was describing the weather. The taskmaster looked annoyed for a second, but he wiped away the expression quickly, fearing the fate that might fall upon him if he showed it to the world. He did look at Daneel from the corner of his eyes after that, as if promising that what was going to come for him would come despite whatever his ex-father had said, and after that, he shouted, "You heard the master! Get moving! And take this trash with you!"
The edges of the group had started slinking away as soon as they had heard Harold's command. The rest began to move, now, shooting dirty looks at Daneel. As he watched them all, he realized something. He didn't mind the animosity was being shown; it was par for the course when considering everything he had done. What affected him the most… were the empty eyes of a considerable amount of slaves who seemed as if they were in a waking dream. He had noticed that they had been slow to laugh before, too, and had only done so after being caught up in the mood of the crowd. Now, as they walked away, they shambled here and there, bumping into the others who didn't say anything as if they were used to it.
If circumstances were different, he would have liked to think more about this phenomenon… but he soon saw a new problem that had been presented to him. The taskmaster was standing a few feet away, fondling the whip much in the same way that the hangman had fondled his lasso. He seemed to be waiting for something… and it only took a few seconds for Daneel to understand what it was.
He wanted an excuse, and it would soon be presented to him if Daneel lingered there even after the master had given his command.
Desperately, he looked at his new brothers who had been told to help him.
'They're following the rest of the orders well… so why don't they follow this one, too?'
As the last of them started to melt away, he tried to get up, but failed instantly. The chortle of the taskmaster sounded from behind him, filled with glee and sick joy.
'Harold said I had to be kept alive, right? Well, maybe it won't be so bad…'
He tried to lie to himself, but when he turned to him, the eyes of the taskmaster gave the man's intention away. In them, he could see his future. He would be whipped to an inch of his life, and when he was too injured to work, the man might cite that as an excuse to whip him even more, until it turned into an endless cycle that would only end with his miserable death a few years later. When he had spoken before, he had done so with the plan that he could figure out a plan to escape later, but if he was constantly fighting to live, where would he find the time to do anything else?
"Come on."
A voice interrupted these grim musings. A hand caught him by his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet, and although the one who had done so had been anything but delicate, he was extremely thankful. Expecting it to be the healer who had been the only one to show him kindness so far, he turned to the man… and blinked as he saw that it was the one who had been called Sebastien.
It wasn't hard to connect the two events of him walking out and that of the angry crowd of people arriving. It seemed obvious that he had gone and called them… but if so, why was he helping him, now?
"Don't look so surprised. Before, you were a disgraced young master. Now… you are a slave. You're one of us. The rest might have forgotten, but a few of us remember. When one is shackled, their past is burned away. You haven't officially become a slave, yet… but you soon will. This doesn't mean that I hate you any less, by the way. Your wounds are healing due to my brother's hard work, so you better not let any of it go to waste."
Daneel didn't know what to think for a few moments. After that, he smiled briefly, finding a nugget of unexpected humanity in what had seemed like a heartless hellhole until now.
It gave him hope, and quickly, Daneel saw how precious it was. Even the worst of situations would feel better if one possessed this invaluable flame, and right now, he felt indebted to Sebastien because he had given this gift without intending to do so.
The taskmaster growled behind them, and Daneel understood that the man might be targeting both of them now. He didn't feel afraid, though; from his memories, it was obvious that he was a simple man, and hence, he was confident that he would be able to see anything that he came up with from a mile away.
The success of the sudden plan that had come to him also bolstered his confidence. The only thing still puzzling him was the reason behind why all the slaves had laughed, and looking up, he decided to put the question to Sebastien, even though he was unsure whether he would get an answer.
The words died on his lips when his eyes fell upon a structure in the direction they were heading. Gigantic crimson-colored crystals shot into the air from the ground, their tips gleaming in the sunlight, shining as red as blood. They pulsed with each second, and when a slave reached them, he or she would walk right through and disappear.
Each time this happened, the shards would glow menacingly. Arraying in a circular fashion, they looked like a gateway to hell…but the most disconcerting thing wasn't their color or their shape. No…it was the bones that surrounded them, piled taller than three men standing on top of each other.
As Daneel gaped, Sebastien paused and spoke beside him, answering the question that he had been about to ask.
"The Pit. See those bones? They belong to the slaves that tried to get away. Even in death, they are trapped here, never to leave, never to be free. If you're wondering why the others laughed before…its because of your foolishness. Death is a release they look forward to happily. That is why they enjoy watching hangings so much. You spit on the gift given to you…and chose a fate far worse. Any one of them would be willing to take your place in a heartbeat, so seeing what you did, what else could they do, but laugh at your idiocy? Well…let's get on with it, then. If you don't understand the answer now, you will soon, young master."
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