(Image provided by Megan Durham)

“In ancient days, the earth spoke. It gave forth warnings, hints for the future, and aid in times of great need. It was beloved by all but a few. Those few recognized that the earth was also preventing people from advancing, and so they sought for a way to silence the earth. The day before the earth fell silent, it spoke one final time.”

The lie slid easily off the tongue of the speaker. It was so easy, twisting just a little from the truth. The listeners were held in rapt attention as the speaker paused for effect.

“What did the earth say?” a listener asked right on cue.

“It said ‘Well done’ of course, because it recognized the good those people were doing by silencing it. The earth couldn’t help itself since it was bound by its very nature.”

Heads nodded along. How wise the founders must have been, and how powerful to have found a way to silence the earth. Then they disbursed, in search of another tent or stall to see what else the fair had to offer. The story teller smiled as the people filled out and they took a drink of water to sooth their throat. They’d been telling tales all week and still had several more to go. They knew the truth of the stories they told and knew how they were altered. It was beautifully done by the framers, changing history by just the slightest amounts, only enough to turn people in the right direction and then let them walk their way into acceptance and servitude. It was–

A thin dagger slid between their back ribs and pierced their heart. There was a moment of pain and terror before everything went dark and they knew no more. A pair of strong hands gripped the story teller beneath the armpits and heaved them over to the side of the tent where a thin cut in the fabric provided a means of entering and exiting without being seen by the masses. Another pair of hands outside the tent took the body and it was spirited away.

Then, the assassin took off their bloodied gloved and tossed them into the small brazier that burned in the center of the tent. There was nothing left to do now but wait. Within minutes the tent was filling up with people, ready and eager to hear the stories. A sand timer was flipped and the assassin, dressed in the bright colors of a storyteller, began to speak.

“Wa-hay, everybody!” The assassin called out in a jovial manner, leaping up and balancing on a single foot, pointing broadly at the gathered listeners. “You’ve come to hear the tales of myth and legend and maybe about some fish, eh?”

The crowd smiled, somewhat confused. This was not the usual, serious tones they were accustomed to, but it wasn’t offensive. Some certainly thought this was an improvement.

“Well, let’s get the main story you’re all here for out of the way so we can talk about that fish! What a fish it was, too, let me tell you.”

They pulled a dead salmon out of their pants pocket and slapped it down onto the stage where it remained throughout the performance.

“It all began,” the assassin said, still standing on a single foot, their other leg stretched out straight behind them, “long before any of us were born, but perhaps not so long ago as we may think. Perhaps the oldest of our grandmothers would remember this time, but I see none of them are with us today to say whether I am right or wrong.”

Again, it was a deviation from the regular stories which all took place in the fog of ancient history. The assassin pivoted on their one foot, somehow turning to look at his crowd without putting down his other leg.

“The earth spoke to us and shared its wisdom. Warned of approaching disasters, counseled rulers concerning their lands, and tattled on bratty children who kept trying to sneak out at night to play in the fields. It was impossible to do anything without the earth telling on you. Try and scheme to mess with your sister and the earth would just tell her what you were up to. Try and steal a loaf of bread and the earth would tell the baker. Try and charge too much for your bread and the earth would tell the rulers. Try and take advantage of the people beneath you, and the earth would tell the people how to revolt. Worse, even, if you tried to tell a story about a fish, the earth would warn the listeners that the fish story stinks.”

There were no laughs. A few small children grinned uncertainly as they tried to understand what was going on. The adults wore a mixture of frowns and bemused expressions. These were not the correct stories, but this wouldn’t be the first time new stories were told. They were just usually updates to the old ones. Fairly similar to the old ones with just a few changes here and there. Hardly anything you’d notice at all unless you’d heard the stories a hundred times before.

“Can you imagine how frustrating that would be?” the assassin went on. “You couldn’t get away with anything without the earth telling on you.”

A child raised its hand, a rarity in the storytellings but not unheard of. Everyone knew you could ask questions.

“Yes?” the assassin said, pivoting and pointing to the child.

“Would the earth really tell on everything? Even little things?”

The assassin swayed from side to side on their leg. It was getting stiff and the muscles were beginning to burn but they were used to it.

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t tell on you for every little thing. Maybe it would only tell people about the big things. Maybe that was why the rulers were the most upset about the earth telling on them. Maybe that’s why they were the ones who got the earth to be quiet. Sure, now we die from earthquakes and storms and disease and famine, but at least our rulers don’t have to worry about us learning about how they’re taking advantage of their positions to exploit us all, right?”

Silence in the tent.

“I know our current magistrate would hate for people to know he’s been kidnapping young women he fancies and keeping them locked away for…well, personal reasons. I also know the sheriff would hate it if the earth told anyone about his gambling friends and how they pay their debts with favors that look an awful lot like crimes.”

“What is this?” a man in the crowd shouted.

There were no more grins in the crowd, not even the uncertain ones from the children. It was common knowledge that young women would disappear from time to time but, well, that was just part of living in the city. And perhaps crime was a bit higher than most people liked but what could you do about that?

The assassin turned ever so slowly on his foot until he was facing the man who’d called out. Only now did the assassin put his other foot down. He met the man’s gaze and his own expression turned serious.

“I’m telling you the tales you need to hear,” he said. “The young women are in the cellar, behind the wine racks. The false wall is painted wood and can easily be moved. The sheriff’s friends are the baker, the judge, and the manure cart men. The earth never fell silent, we just stopped listening. Open up your eyes and ears to what’s going on around you and perhaps you’ll begin to hear it again yourselves.”

He swept them all a bow just as the sand timer ran out and it was time to move on. Nobody moved at first until the assassin shooed them all with his hands.

“Off you get,” he said, back to his jovial voice. “There’s ever so much more to see at the fair.”

The tent slowly emptied and the assassin stood still, listening. If anyone warned the sheriff or the magistrate, the earth would warn him and he’d leave as quickly and quietly as he’d come. But the tent filled back up and the earth remained silent. That was good. The more people he could tell his tales to, the better, and he had oh so many tales to tell. The magistrate and the sheriff were just the big ones he wanted to tell right away. He’d tell them again, but he’d also slip in a few others. With luck, he’d get a few more people to begin listening again. A generation was too long a time and yet so short a time, for people to forget to listen to the earth. Oh well. He was here now and he’d do what he could. The few of them that still listened were spread throughout the fair, spreading the seeds of dissent and hoping to bring back the old ways.

---

I found myself wondering what it would be like if it was impossible to conceal any significant misdeed and this story grew out of that. How would people respond? How would those misdeeds be made known? Then what if someone figured out how to counteract it? What sort of power would that person (or group of people) have over the rest of the population that was used to relying on being told about misdeeds once those people no longer heard those warnings.

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