“The travel didn’t kill them, but their treachery did,” Mahrree said softly. “They were brought to Idumea, tried, found guilty, and executed.”
The girls looked at each other, aghast.
“Children, too?” asked Teeria.
Mahrree pressed her lips together. She skimmed over these details when she taught the history to her younger group, but the teenage girls were ready to know the terrible truths. While Querul the first wasn’t the greatest leader the world could have desired, his intention was to bring peace to the land. “King Querul felt the children were under the poisonous influence of their parents, so naturally they would grow up to be traitors too.”
“Was that really necessary?” Teeria’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Excellent question,” Mahrree told her. “What do you think?”
Teeria glanced around the room at the other girls, likely hoping to see an answer on one of their faces.
Hitty tried. “If children are taught one thing by their parents, then . . . they usually stay with what they were taught. So . . . those children might have continued their parents’ rebellion when they got older. I mean, if your parents are dead, wouldn’t you be mad about who killed them?”
Mahrree was tempted to nod, but instead looked around for another opinion.
Teeria fingered her dark braid, thinking.
Another girl piped up. “But you could retrain those children, couldn’t you? Teach them that their parents’ stealing and fights they kept starting with the army were wrong. Then they’d change their ways!”
Teeria turned to her, “Yes, but who would do that retraining to—”
Mahrree began to smile. That was the point she loved in teaching, when the girls turned from facing her and expecting to get the answers from the “authority,” to probing the difficult questions among themselves. It was when they debated each other that the lessons were remembered.
This was why the what-color-is-the-sky debate was so crucial: people tend to trust whoever sets themselves up as the authorities, but at some point each person needs to look at what’s claimed and test it. Is the sunset really pink, or is it more of an orange? What do you see?
Now none of the girls were facing Mahrree, who was leaning smugly against the large slate board at the front of the room, but they were instead arguing heatedly as to whether children could be forced to think differently than they’d been taught. If she were alone, Mahrree would have whopped for joy. She would, later, in celebration of another successful day.
But right now, she had a growing shouting match she had to gently calm. She learned years ago how to do so: with another question.
“Teeria,” she said in a quiet but firm voice that cut through the arguing of the girls.
Eight heads turned to look at her, as if surprised she was still there.
“Teeria, if a group of Guarders were to steal you away from your home today and try to tell you that everything your parents, government, and even your teacher has been telling you is a lie, what would it take for you to believe them?”
Mahrree looked at all of the girls silenced by her query. “Any of you? What would they have to do to convince you that the truths you’ve been taught are distortions?”
After a thoughtful moment, Teeria sighed loudly. “I really don’t know, Miss Mahrree. Depending on how convincing they were, I might not be able to figure out what the truth is about anything. I might end up not believing anyone anymore.”
Several of the girls nodded in agreement.
“So that would be worse?” Hitty wondered. “People who can’t figure out what to believe?”
“Maybe the real question, Hitty,” Mahrree said, “is what would it take to make you change your mind about everything you’re sure to know to be true? That’s the question for all of you, isn’t it? Who do you trust?”
The girls thoughtfully stared at their desks.
“Parents? Friends?” Teeria suggested. “Neighbors? Teachers? Certainly the government could—”
Mahrree couldn’t listen anymore, because her ears were stuck on the words “the government.” Cynical thoughts once again flooded her mind. Did the Chairman and Administrators deserve her trust? They acted as if they already had it. As if they could just take it, not earn it. And no one was questioning that, were they? They collect our trust as easily as they collect our slips of silver twice a year. We wanted them to succeed so we trust them blindly. Foolishly. And they’re using that, taking it to the next step. If people stop arguing, stop thinking, and are just willing to take—to trust—whatever the authority dishes out, they’ll accept just about anything—