Tapestry

By Hallie Burton

In Ollas, anything that stirs the emotions is forbidden by the governors—especially music. So when Tallie Tarmelin, a farm boy from a lower-tier guild, is offered a scholarship for his talent in design, he keeps his head down and follows the rules. He's terrified of breaking one of his society’s many laws and ruining his future. But feeling lost and alone in an unfamiliar city takes its toll, and Tallie accepts sympathy from a guildless social outcast even though he knows it could destroy his reputation.

Despite the rules against casual touching and fraternizing in public, Jonis Sinter offers Tallie comfort instead of denouncing him for an excessive emotional display, and they fast become friends. Secret friends, though, because Worran, the respectable son of a governor, has asked Tallie to be his partner.

When Worran’s mother learns of Tallie’s association with an outcast, she dispatches the militia. Worran sends Tallie a warning, and Tallie flees the city and civilization with Jonis. Surviving the wilds will take every ounce of perseverance they can muster, and the rediscovery of music might be their only solace— unless they recognize the love that's growing between them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harmony Ink Press
• Release date: Mar 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781623803568

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Tapestry

Copyright © 2013 by Hallie Burton

Cover Art by Anne Cain   

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

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ISBN: 978-1-62380-355-1

Library ISBN: 978-1-62380-926-3

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-356-8

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

March 2013

This one is for Elizabeth. She knows why.

Prologue

AFTER the Great Civil War that claimed the lives of nearly half the Citizens of the Realm of Ollas, the surviving leaders made a pact that became known as the Fundament. These Founding Fathers and Mothers determined the causes of strife and made laws to ensure that their nation would never suffer another such devastating war. Once made, these Fundamental Laws were guarded and interpreted by the newly formed Guild Governance. The duty of the Governors and Governesses was to make more laws to uphold the Fundament, and their will was enforced by Guild Martial’s Militia.

All things that stirred the spirit to deep passions were banned for they led to uncontrolled and violent behavior. All written music and all musical instruments were destroyed along with any depictions of musicians, singers, or dancers. Adults were expected to discipline themselves, and if they did not, chastisement was publicly meted out by the Militia. Children were closely watched and immediately punished if they sang or danced. Within two generations, music was eradicated from the kingdom’s culture and eventually from general knowledge.

In time, this censure of emotion was applied to all physical contact. Finally, it became socially unacceptable for people to touch in public without sanction of marriage or close kinship. Even in private, parents were discouraged from holding their babies too much. It became the custom to let infants cry themselves into exhaustion lest they become spoiled and develop a sensual nature. Children learned early not to run to an adult every time they got a scrape or a bruise but dealt with it themselves. There was little pity in the schoolyard and self-reliance became the most prized trait a person could have.

Fundamental Laws came to be regarded as sacred and infallible, but no one but the members of Guild Governance had access to them. The Governors held an exalted status second only to royalty, for only they understood the Law completely. Citizens were expected to obey without question, and within two generations, no one remembered what Ollas had been like before the Founding. The Founders built a new society, isolating it from the rest of the world and brooking no dissent, rigorously enforcing compliance to ideals that kept peace in the realm.

And Ollas was peaceful. And it prospered, providing all that its Citizens needed. Those few who wished to leave were not hindered, but reentry was forbidden, and the borders were inviolable, protected by Founders’ Fire.

Within the impassable borders, the social structure of the kingdom was separated into tiers according to Guild and became as rigid as Fundamental Laws. Every Ollasian was born into a Guild and most remained in the same one until they died. Each Guild had its own schools and teachers and made provision for its elderly and disabled members. Though no law was instituted stating that a Citizen must work and marry within his or her Guild, social custom dictated it. There were examples of Citizens who had moved within the ranks of the Guilds, but seldom did they rise higher than from Pastoral or Labor to Martial. A gifted few were sometimes admitted to Design Guild, talent being no respecter of station, but for the most part, people were locked into a role at birth with little hope of change.

In brief, the Guilds were as follows, listed from lowest to highest in rank:

Vagabond: The Bonders were not an official Guild and comprised only a small portion of the population. They were unusual in that they had no steady means of employment or permanent places of residence. Bonders moved constantly—alone, in pairs, in families, and sometimes, entire communities—setting up their camps outside town or city walls. When they needed money, they offered handmade wares for sale or hired out as laborers, and it was whispered that they traded sexual favors. Transactions with Bonders were illegal, but were often winked at until the local militia received enough complaints and forced them to move on.

Guild Labor: Labers were the largest group of Citizens, and the Guild was broken into several divisions such as Mech, Mestic, and Clerical. They built, ran, and repaired the machines and did any other physical work required. Labers could aspire to become Artisans, the hands of Guild Design, weaving cloth and laying brick, but most did menial tasks and many worked for long hours under dangerous conditions in the mills and factories.

Guild Pastoral: The rural sector of the population was the second-largest group and responsible for producing 98 percent of all food consumed in the kingdom. Fruit, vegetables, herbs, grain, beef, mutton, poultry, and fish poured from the countryside into the mills, bakeries, butcher shops, and restaurants of the towns and cities. At shearing time, flocks of sheep were brought down from the high meadows and shorn of their thick wool. The wool was sent to be made into thread and yarn to supply the weavers and carpetmakers. Older stock was slaughtered and the hides tanned into leather. Though an essential unit of society, Tories were looked down on as unsophisticated and were often the butt of jokes.

Guild Healer: From learned royal surgeons to apothecaries to herb-witch midwives, all were known as Healers. Some practiced as individuals, but most sought a place in a Healer Guildhall where a salary was guaranteed. Treatment and medicine were free to any Ollasian who requested them, subsidized by a portion of the revenue tithed to the Governance Fund.

Guild Mercantile: Commonly referred to as Merchers, this division had the largest variance in personal wealth among its members. Mercantile encompassed all vendors of goods from the street-corner purveyor of roasted nuts to the owner of the company that supplied the nuts. All business, including that of transporting goods, was conducted by Merchers.

Guild Martial: The third-largest tier consisted of the soldiers of the Royal Army and the standing Militia charged with keeping the civil peace and manning the jails. The Royal Army was little seen apart from holiday parades, and most Citizens’ interaction with law enforcement was with the Militia. Commonly called Millies, they were responsible for preventing infractions of the Law and for administering punishment to the guilty. Justice was swift and carried out with detachment in front of solemn crowds.

Guild Design: This group had the widest array of disciplines, from pure science to applied. It encompassed writing, sculpting, painting, weaving, architecture, smelting, smithery, machining, fabricating, brewing and distilling, food preparation, and perfumery to name a few. To rise to prominence, a Dezzie had to possess natural flair and a drive to push the limits, as well as great talent. In a society defined by rigid adherence to codes of behavior, designers had to be creative without appearing to deviate from the accepted forms, making it difficult to stand out in any field of design. Those who managed the trick were honored beyond their lifetimes, the goal of all Dezzies.

Guild Governance: Called Guvs by the disrespectful, the Governors and Governesses were the lawmakers, local leaders, and judges, and their number was restricted by the number of Ollasian Citizens. They were the only people privileged to know the Fundamental Laws as written down by the Founding Fathers and Mothers. These heirlooms were closely guarded and brought out in a secret ceremony only when a Governor died and a new one was elevated. The Chief Governance Hall in the royal capital of Kingsholme was the seat of the Great Council, which included the Governors of Education, Commerce, Culture, and the other dignitaries who oversaw the daily running of the kingdom.

Guild Royal: Not really a Guild but a House, the Royal Family adopted the appellation as a show of solidarity with the Founders. The extended Royal Family was the highest tier of society, and admittance was by birth or marriage only. Much like the Royal Army, the Royal Family was seen only on national holidays, which included Royal births, weddings, and funerals. Though nominally the most powerful person in the kingdom, the monarch was largely a figurehead, a symbol, a weathervane for the common folk to take their cues from.

For over three hundred years, this was the way of things in Ollas, but nothing stays the same forever. There are times in history when old patterns are shattered and new ones are formed. This is a story of such a time.

One

IN THE nine years he’d lived in town, Tallie Tarmelin woke to the same sounds every morning. The shrill blast of the gristmill’s steam whistle. The hollow clop of the draught horses’ hooves on the cobbles. The clanging rattle of the junkman’s cart that echoed off the stone and timber walls, filling the narrow street with a rumbling roar. Once awake, he heard the other noises of the mill town that were ever-present here in the outermost circle of the residential section. It was useless to try to fall back into dreams, and he’d be late if he did, so Tallie pushed back the covers and swung his feet to the floor. The bare wood chilled his feet as he walked to the window of the dormitory for single men and pushed open the panels of bullseye glass.

His room was on the top story, as befitted his low-ranking status, but it gave him a view out over the town to the water. The Kingstrey River was the longest in the kingdom, beginning as a spring high in the Veiled Mountains and running all the way to the Sunset Sea where lay the ancient, abandoned port of Princetown. In Cascadia, the river leapt and gamboled down the craggy slopes, tumbling over the grass and breaking on granite, glittering in the sun like shards of crystal. In Cascadia, the racing water was harnessed to power the great wheels that fed the steam-powered machines of the factories. and was allowed to pool into reservoirs and lakes for the use of the community before continuing its journey to the sea. Like all else in the realm, the river served the common good of the Citizens of the Royal Realm of Ollas, the Solitary Kingdom.

Between his window and the water, Tallie saw smoke rising from hundreds of chimneys. He heard the constant racket of machines, and were the window open, he would smell the fumes of chemicals. Someday, when he’d advanced to a Master’s rank, he would be out of this noisy, stinking world. Someday, when he could afford and be eligible for a home in the Inner Five. Someday, when he could work on designs in his own office far from the factories. That day seemed impossibly distant to the seventeen-year-old Apprentice.

You’ll never get there dreaming out the window.

Tallie hurriedly shed the flannel smock he wore to bed and stuffed it under his pillow. After donning a plain tunic and leggings of finely woven wool, he pulled his sheepskin boots from under the bed and shoved his feet into them. He straightened the down-filled bedclothes and then plucked his Apprentice’s robe from the back of the slatted chair. As the folds of heavy, dark blue velvet fell around him, he gave thanks once more that he had been gifted with an eye for form and color. It was this talent that had earned him a place as a Novice at seven, and after five years of study, he’d been granted the right to wear the gown of a Designer’s Apprentice. He’d been an Apprentice for five years, and one day soon, his robe would have the fur trim of a Journeyman. Some years later—but not too many, he hoped—he’d add the jeweled chain of a Master.

Not if you’re late again.

Tallie picked up his leather satchel, made sure the brass buckles were fastened, and slung it over his shoulder. With a last look around to make sure the room was tidy for the daily Mestic inspection, he walked away, leaving the door open.

As he went down the five flights of stairs, he tried to picture what his family was doing right now. He wondered if they thought about him, if they had someone to read them the letters he sent. He missed the farm, his mam and da, his brothers and sisters, and the animals, but he knew it was childish to complain about the opportunity he’d been given. Though it took him far away from all he knew, his admittance to a Design studio was a dream, more than a boy of his station could ever hope for. He was being educated and groomed for a life in Guild Design because he had talent and had been in the right place to be noticed. If Master Designer Daile’s horse had not thrown a shoe near Tallie’s family farm, Tallie would have spent his life tending the crops and drawing on every blank surface that came to hand.

I’m very lucky, he thought as he trotted out the street door. The Laber who’d washed the wooden sidewalk earlier that morning had missed a patch of soap, and Tallie’s foot slipped on it. Flailing his arms to keep his balance, he kept from falling into the road, but to his horror, his hand brushed a passerby.

Careful! the pedestrian said sharply.

Tallie relaxed as he recognized the voice of his fellow Apprentice, Tommin Nat. Sorry. I should have looked first. He smiled. At least I can count on you not to report me for public contact.

Of course I wouldn’t report you, but what if I had been a stranger and you’d touched me?

I slipped on some soap.

Do you want to make a report?

Tallie shook his head.

Maybe you should. Carelessness like that can be dangerous. What if you’d fallen and broken your arm?

I’m fine… except for the fact that I’m going to be late.

Then we should hurry. Tommin moved off, his long legs making great strides.

Tallie hurried to catch up and walked down the street at Tommin’s side. When they reached the larger cross street, they moved into the bustling morning traffic. Teams of horses pulled drays loaded with barrels, crates, and cages on their way from the river docks to the factories and shops. Tallie and Tommin turned left and walked along the crowded footpath until they turned left again onto a quieter road where Mercantile wagons weren’t allowed.

Tommin reached into the basket hanging from his left arm. Here, he said, handing Tallie a sweet roll. My mam says hello.

Tallie bit into the roll. It was still warm. You’re so lucky your family lives in town, he said. Thank your mam for me.

Tommin sighed, and Tallie knew it was because his friend longed for the freedom of the dormitory. I’ll tell her you liked the roll, he said. But I don’t know how lucky I am.

Are you joking? You were born into a Guild Design family.

"There are so many rules."

Every Guild has rules.

I can’t even move out of my parents’ house without their permission until I make Journeyman rank. And I can’t marry outside my Guild.

"Well, at least that isn’t an immediate problem. Tallie’s grin faded when Tommin didn’t laugh. Or is it?" he asked, stopping to look the taller boy in the eyes.

We’re going to be late, Tommin said, avoiding Tallie’s gaze as he started walking again.

Tallie fell into step but didn’t drop the subject. Why won’t you answer me?

It’s none of your business.

Aren’t we friends as well as colleagues?

Colleagues… I like the sound of that.

Don’t try to distract me. You know I’m relentless when courting is the subject.

Who said anything about courting?

You didn’t have to say anything. I could tell by your mood as soon as I saw you.

I yelled at you for almost hitting me.

Exactly. You yelled. You didn’t swing your satchel at me like you usually do. I call that a very good mood for you.

It’s not as if I’m grumpy all the time.

No, but you are awfully serious most of the time.

I want to start earning rank as soon as possible.

You will. You already have more merits than anyone else in our group.

Tommin lowered his voice as they reached the treelined lane that led to the studio. Master Daile told me I’m being considered for the Journeyman slot on the White Pine project.

Tallie’s face reflected his honest happiness for his friend. That’s wonderful. You’ll be one of the youngest to ever work on a major project.

In recent times, you mean.

Of course I meant in recent times, but who would want to go back to the days when children worked in the factories?

Not me. I have younger brothers and sisters. When I think that children as young as six worked the machines, I feel ill.

Don’t worry so much. Tallie put a hand on Tommin’s shoulder. That could never happen again. Our King cares about us and we have Guild Governance to keep us safe.

I suppose, but don’t you think the Governors have too much power? If a man like Governor Brone ever became Council Chief, I shudder to think what—

Don’t say it, Tallie interrupted. Words have power.

Would you like another roll before we go in? Tommin pulled back the cloth that covered the basket.

Tallie took another roll, eating it in large bites as they reached the entrance of the most prestigious Design Academy and Studio in the kingdom. The elegant wrought iron gates were set in a brick wall twelve feet thick. Along the marble-clad top was a parapet wide enough for two men to walk abreast. It had not been built with any thought of fortification, but was purely decorative, providing an elevated view of the gardens. Seen from above, the carefully placed shrubs, hedges, and many-colored flower beds formed a pattern. The intricate, interlocking whorls of living foliage commemorated a design by the founder of the two-century-old studio, a carpet that was woven to this day. Every Apprentice who passed through these gates hoped to create a design that would live on after they had passed beyond this world.

Tommin’s voice echoed in the short tunnel beyond the gates. In the market yesterday, my mam heard a palace Mestic saying that the Princess hasn’t left her bed for over a month, and the Royal healers still have no idea what’s afflicting her. Mam thinks it’s the Gray Sickness, though no one wants to say it.

I feel so sorry for the King and Queen. And the Princess, of course. Tallie’s speech slowed as he went on. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose a child.

You’re too soft-hearted, Tommin said as they passed from the shade into the sunlit square at the center of the academy. Look, there’s Worran. We’re not late.

Tallie followed Tommin’s line of sight. He spotted Worran Callaxto and shook his head as he watched Worran pretend to give a grand speech from one of the marble benches. Showing off as usual, he said fondly.

He can afford to waste his time on things like that.

You almost sound jealous. In the five years we’ve known each other, I’ve never heard you sound jealous of anyone.

Tommin sighed. "Maybe I wish my mother was an important Governess with money, power, and influence."

Tallie’s eyes narrowed at these uncharacteristic words from his friend. You’re going to tell me what’s bothering you sooner or later, so why not tell me sooner?

Tallie! Tommin! Worran shouted as he shooed away his audience. How dare you ignore your superior? Come over here.

Tallie rolled his eyes. Tragically, he thinks he’s funny.

"But he is our senior, Tommin said. And the others seem to think he’s funny."

They laugh because of who Worran is, not because they think he’s funny, Tallie said as he and Tommin approached Worran.

So?

So you don’t want to be a butt polisher, do you?

Tommin smiled as they came within Worran’s hearing. Good morning, he said.

Good morning, Worran replied before turning to Tallie. I’ve missed you.

Warned by Worran’s tone, Tallie took a step back, but it was too late and he was engulfed in Worran’s embrace. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of the strong arms around him, the softness of the fur collar against his cheek, and the mingled smells of sandalwood soap and Worran’s hair, but only for a moment. Let me go before someone sees you, he said sharply.

Worran let go and Tallie stepped quickly away from him.

Why do you do things like that? Tallie said. What if someone saw you?

Worran shrugged. I’m careful, he said. I knew there was no one else around.

You need to have more control over yourself, crazy person.

Do you have an answer for me today? Worran asked as if he hadn’t heard Tallie’s warning.

Tallie sighed. When I decide, you’ll be the first to know.

I’d like to be able to tell my family so they can—

I haven’t made up my mind, and if I do decide to sign a partnership contract with you, I hope your family won’t—

It’s just that there are certain things you might not be familiar with because of your upbringing. A partnership contract is a very intricate and delicate thing. Worran repeated words from his mother’s last letter.

Tallie swallowed the first words that came to his tongue. Then we need to consider it carefully, don’t we?

For just a moment, Worran’s handsome face wore a baffled expression, and then he spoke. You should go to class or you’re going to be late.

Aren’t you overseeing our class again today? Tallie asked.

Worran answered, back on solid ground. You might not see the point of learning structural integrity now, but it’s on the class schedule for a reason. You’re just lucky to have such an outstanding young Architecture Journeyman to explain it to you.

Tallie smiled. How can I be late if you aren’t there to mark me tardy?

Worran and Tallie stared at each other for a long moment, and then without a word spoken, they broke into a run, racing to the studio.

When I’m a Journeyman, I’ll have more dignity than Worran, Tommin said to the air. Hitching the strap of his satchel higher on his shoulder, he followed the other two at a slower pace.

AFTER his last class, Tallie went to the Academy’s dining hall. Going to the kitchen’s back door, he knocked softly. When the Mestic cook answered, he took a covered jar from her and thanked her. I wouldn’t ask, but I’ll be up late studying, and I can’t take time to make dinner.

The cook tucked a lock of wolf-gray hair back under her linen head covering as she glanced up and down the alleyway. She was fond of this unfailingly polite Apprentice but didn’t want to be seen playing favorites. That was worth at least three demerits, and she was just twelve