“And exactly what are they doing?” Mahrree asked, mystified. “Mr. Hegek seems to be working non-stop, but I never see those piles of papers move on his desk. I still can’t figure out what takes up all of his time!” she murmured. “Just let the teachers teach. I still don’t get it—why should anyone else besides parents be in charge of the children?”
“You know why. You figured it out earlier this year. Parents feel stupid because their government tells them they are, so they’re humbly—and even willingly—allowing someone else to guide their children’s teaching. But there’s another reason,” Perrin hesitated, as if worried the little man in red might still be in earshot. “This way the Administrators get to pick and choose what the growing generation learns, and anything that’s not supporting the Administrators simply isn’t covered. In one generation, the entire population should be as loyal to the Administrators as they are—or were—to their parents’ beliefs. Whatever they say, the people will believe.”
“Let’s hope there are still a few rebellious ‘teenaged’ souls out there. Besides us, I mean.” Mahrree sucked in her breath as a memory from long ago came to her, bearing the mark of coming from her father. “Perrin, did you ever know that King Querul and the three Queruls after him for eighty years kept . . . servants?”
Perrin tensed up next to her. “Yes, I know. The question is, how did you know about that? That’s hardly common knowledge, even forty years ago!”
“My father told me,” Mahrree confessed. “He had an older friend over in Winds, another teacher, who helped to settle the servants in their own homes after they were freed. He told my father about it years later, how he had to teach them how to read and write and even shop.”
“Amazing!” he breathed. “I really wished I knew Cephas. How many other secrets of the world did he know about?”
“I think that was the only one,” Mahrree said. “How many more are there?”
“Uh,” Perrin hesitated, “that’s probably it,” he said, not sounding completely honest. “Those thirty-three people—they weren’t Querul’s servants, Mahrree. They were slaves,” he said bitterly. “They and their children and their children’s children. They knew nothing but what Querul and his descendents told them. They were never paid or educated.”
“They had been with the kings for years,” Mahrree remembered, “and believed everything he told them. He was their only source of knowledge about anything.”
“Querul the First brought them to his mansion and compound during the Great War. He kept them sequestered for their safety, and they never left, for decades,” Perrin whispered. “He told them all kinds of terrible things were happening out in the world. Battles, bloodshed, men killed, and their women and children abused in atrocious ways . . . But in the compound they were safe. What they didn’t realize was that they were actually trapped. The war ended, but no one told them. Querul and his sons and family had grown so accustomed to those seven people doing all their labor that they simply kept them and told them the world was an awful place to be. The so-called servants had no idea that everyone else had more freedom than they did,” he sighed.
“Querul the Second and the Third simply kept them,” he continued. “After all, the seven servants were marrying and making more loyal, terrified servants. The kings told them all kinds of horror stories about the world outside the compound of the mansion, and that if ever they left, they’d be destroyed by the ravaging people of the world. They truly believed the kings had ‘chosen’ them out of the world to give them such a protected existence. And to earn that honor? All they had to do was work day and night cleaning, building, repairing, cooking—everything.”
Mahrree was nearly breathless. She had never heard so many details. “How do you know all of this?”
“My grandfather Pere was the one who liberated them when he was first made High General, about forty years ago.”
“Really?” Mahrree felt a surge of pride for her children’s ancestor.
“Once he discovered what was going on in the mansion, he wanted to put a peaceful end to it. Eighty-one years they had lived like that. More than three generations of servants had never left the compound, never had contact with anyone else on the outside, and never knew what was really going on the world. My grandfather told Querul the Fourth that he’d heard some of his ‘servants’ were actually related to Guarders who had recently been contacted by the outside, and now the servants were waiting for the right moment to massacre his family. Fortunately the Fourth was a gullible, suspicious man and he released all of the servants the next day. His first instinct was to kill them all, but my grandfather had told them that if they were released instead, Querul and his family would be safe from future attacks. My grandfather sent them far away from Idumea where they could get a new start. He appointed some teachers and helpers for them in Winds—I suppose your father’s friend was one of them—and Winds was a very peaceful place. A few years ago I tried to find out what happened to them, but couldn’t find any records. Probably changed their names and moved elsewhere.”