Faith of the Fallen

Chapter 47

The sun was just coming up. Dusty shafts of light angled into the warehouse through the high windows. When he saw Ishaq coming down the aisle to give him the list of iron to be loaded for various wagons, Richard hopped down off the rack where he’d been waiting.

Richard hadn’t seen the load master for a week. “Ishaq. Are you all right? Where have you been?”

The burly load master hurried up the aisle. “Hello to you, too.”

“I’m sorry—hello. I was worried. Where have you been?”

He made a face. “Meetings. Always meetings. Wait in this office, wait in that office. No work, just meetings for this and for that. I had to go see people to try to arrange for loads people need. Sometimes I think no one really wants any goods to move in this city. It would be easier for them if everyone got paid, but had to do no work—then they would not have to sign their name on a piece of paper and worry if maybe someday they will be called to account for having done it.”

“Ishaq, is it true that this transport company used to be yours?”

The man paused to catch his breath. “Who tells you these things?”

“What about it? Did the transport company used to be yours?”

Ishaq shrugged. “Still is, I guess.”

“What happened?”

“What happened? Nothing happened, except maybe I got smart and figured out it was more work than I needed.”

“What did they threaten you with?”

Ishaq peered at Richard for a time. “Where are you from? You don’t seem like any farmboy I ever met.”

Richard smiled. “You didn’t answer my question, Ishaq.”

The man gestured irritably. “What for you want to know about past history? Past is past. A man has to look at the way things are and do the best he can from what life presents him. A choice was put to me, and I made it. Things are they way they are. Wishing don’t put food before my children.”

Richard’s inquisitive frown suddenly felt cruel on his face. He let it go. “I understand, Ishaq. I really do. I’m sorry.”

The man shrugged again. “Now I work here just like everyone else. Much easier. I must follow the same rules, or I could lose my job, just like everyone else. Everyone is equal, now.”

“Praise be to the Order.” Ishaq smiled at Richard’s gibe. Richard held out his hand. “Let’s have the list.”

The load master handed over the paper. It only had the names of two places on it, with some directions for grade, length, and amounts.

“What’s this?” Richard asked.

“We need a loader to go with a wagon to pick up some iron and see it delivered.”

“So, I’m working on the wagons, now? Why? I thought you needed me in the warehouse.”

Ishaq took off his red hat and scratched his head of dark, thinning hair. “We had some . . . complaints.”

“About me? What did I do? You know I’ve worked hard.”

“Too hard.” Ishaq readjusted his hat on his head. “Men in the warehouse say you are petty and spiteful. Their words, not mine. They say you make them feel bad by flaunting how young and strong you are. They say you are laughing behind their backs.”

Many of the men were younger than Richard, and strong enough.

“Ishaq, I never—”

“I know, I know. But they feel that you do. Don’t make trouble for yourself, now. Their feelings are what matter, not what is.”

Richard let out a frustrated sigh. “But I was told by the workers’ group that I have the ability to work whereas others don’t, and that I was supposed to contribute my full effort in order to help relieve the strain on those less able—those who don’t have my ability. They said that I would lose the job if I didn’t do my full effort.”

“It’s a fine line to walk.”

“And I stepped over the line.”

“They want you dismissed.”

Richard sighed. “So, I’m through, here?”

Ishaq waggled his hand. “Yes, and no. You are dismissed from the warehouse for having a bad attitude. I convinced the committee to give you another chance and let you be moved to the wagons. The wagons aren’t as much work, because you can only load it, and then when you get to where it’s going, you unload it. Can’t get in much trouble, that way.”

Richard nodded. “Thanks, Ishaq.”

Ishaq’s gaze sought refuge among the racks of iron and the bins of charcoal and long rows of ore that needed delivery. He scratched his temple.

“The pay is less.”

Richard brushed the iron and ore dust from his hands and rear of his pants. “What’s the difference? They just take it from me anyway and give it out. I’m not really losing any pay, other people are losing my pay.”

Ishaq chuckled and clapped Richard on the shoulder. “You are the only one around here I can count on, Richard. You are different than the others—I feel I can talk to you and it won’t drift to other ears.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know. That’s why I tell you what I don’t tell the others. I am expected to be equal, and to work like anyone else, but I am also expected to provide jobs. They took my business, but they still expect me to run it for them. Crazy world.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Ishaq. So what about this wagon-loading job? What is it you need done?”

“The blacksmith out at the site is dealing me a fit.”

“Why?”

“He has orders for tools, but he has no iron. Lots of people are waiting on things.” He swept a hand out at the rack of iron. “Most of this is what was ordered last autumn. Last autumn! It’s nearly spring and it’s only now come in. It’s all been promised to those who ordered it before.”

“So, why did it take so long for it to get here?”

Ishaq slapped his forehead. “Maybe you are an ignorant farmboy, after all. Where you been? Under rocks? You can’t just get things because you want them. You got to wait your turn. Your order must pass before the review board.”

“Why?”

“Why, why, why. Is that all you know?”

Ishaq sighed and said something under his breath about the Creator testing his patience. He slapped the back of his fingers to the palm of his other hand as he explained it to Richard.

“Because you’ve got to think of others, that’s why. You got to take other people’s needs into consideration. You have to consider the good of everyone. If I get all the runs picking up and delivering the iron, then what chance have others who want to do the same? If I have all the business, that’s unfair. It would put people out of work. What’s available has to be divided up. The board of supervision must make sure everything is equal to all. Some people can’t handle the orders so fast as I can, or they have trouble, or they can’t get workers, or their workers have troubles, so I got to wait until they can catch up.”

“It’s your business, why can’t—”

“Why, why, why. Here, take this order. I don’t need to have that blacksmith come all the way down here again and yell at me. He’s in trouble with his orders and he needs the iron.”

“Why is he in trouble? I thought everyone had to wait their turn.”

Ishaq lifted an eyebrow and lowered his voice. “His customer is the Retreat.”

“The Retreat? What’s that?”

“The Retreat.” Ishaq spread his arms, indicating something big. “That’s the name of the place being built for the emperor.”

Richard hadn’t known the name. The emperor’s new palace was the reason for all the workers coming to Altur’Rang. He supposed it was the reason Nicci had insisted they come to the city, too. She had some interest in having him be part of the grand project. He assumed it was her grotesque sense of irony.

“The new palace is going to be huge,” Ishaq said, waving his arms again. “A lot of work for a lot of people. It will be work for years building the Retreat.”

“So, when the goods are for the Order, then you had better deliver, I take it.”

Ishaq smiled and dipped a deep nod. “Now, you are starting to understand, Mr. Richard why, why, why. The blacksmith is working directly from the orders of the builders of the palace, who report to the highest people. The builders need tools and things made. They don’t want to hear excuses from a lowly blacksmith. The blacksmith doesn’t want to hear excuses from me, but I have to go by what the review board says—he doesn’t, he goes by what the palace says. I’m in the middle.”

Ishaq paused when one of the other loaders came down the aisle with a piece of paper. Ishaq read the paper the man gave him, while the man gave a sidelong look at Richard. Ishaq sighed and gave brief directions to the man.

After he was gone, Ishaq turned back to Richard.

“I can only transport what the review board allows me to move. That paper, just now—it was instructions from the board for me to hold a shipment of timbers to the mines because the load was going to go to a company that needs the work. You see? I can’t put other people out of business by being unfair and delivering more than they do, or else I have trouble, and I get replaced by someone who will not be so unfair to his competitors. Ah, it’s not like the old days, when I was young and foolish.”

Richard folded his arms. “You mean to say that if you do a good job, you get in trouble—just like I did.”

“Good job. Who’s to say what is a good job. Everybody’s got to work together for the good of everybody. That is a good job—if you help your fellow man.”

Richard watched a couple of men off in the distance loading a wagon with charcoal. “You don’t really believe that mouthful of mush, do you, Ishaq?”

Ishaq sighed in a long suffering manner. “Richard, please, load the wagon when you get to the foundry and then go with the wagon out to the Retreat and unload it at the blacksmith’s shop. Please. Don’t get sick on me, or get a bad back, or have infirm children in the middle of the run? I don’t need to see the blacksmith again, or I will have to go swimming with an iron bar around my neck.”

Richard grunted a laugh. “My back is feeling fine.”

“Good. I’ll get a driver over here to drive the wagon.” Ishaq waggled a cautionary finger. “And don’t ask the driver to help load or unload. We don’t need that kind of grievance brought up at the next meeting. I had to beg Jori not to lodge a complaint after I asked him to help me unload the wagon that day in the rain, when the wheels broke—the day you helped me get the load to the warehouse. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Please, don’t give Jori any trouble. Don’t touch the reins—that’s his job. Be a good fellow, then? Get the iron loaded and unloaded so that blacksmith doesn’t come to see me again?”

“Sure, Ishaq. I won’t make any trouble for you. You can trust me.”

“There’s a good fellow.” Ishaq started away, but turned back. “Was not so much trouble on a farm—am I right?”

“No, it wasn’t. I wish I was back there, now.”

Before he got far, Ishaq turned back once more. “You be sure to bow and scrape if you see any of those priests. You hear?”

“Priests? What priests? How will I know them?”

“Brown robes and creased caps—oh, you’ll know them. You can’t miss them. If you see any, you be on your best manners. If a priest suspects you of having an improper attitude toward the Creator or such, he can have you tortured. The priests are Brother Narev’s disciples.”

“Brother Narev?”

“The high priest of the Fellowship of Order—” Ishaq waved his arms impatiently. “I have to get Jori to come with the wagon. Please, Richard, do as I ask. That blacksmith will feed me to his forge if I don’t have that iron out there today. Please, Richard, get that load out there. Please?”

Richard gave Ishaq a smile in order to put his mind at ease.

“You have my word, Ishaq. The blacksmith will have the iron.”

Ishaq heaved a sigh and hurried off to find his driver.