Chương 202: 26. It's a Jungle

Descending the mountain is much easier than climbing it—not counting the parts that involve actual climbing. We make much better time on the downhill slopes, and don't have to worry as much about maintaining our supplies. Talla has us double-check the convergence point to make sure that there's nothing out of the ordinary—or at least nothing new —but after that it's pretty much smooth sailing. Smooth enough even that I decide to take the front for a bit so that Vi can take it easy.

Maybe I'm just feeling self-conscious after all the reflection I've been doing, but it feels nice to take some of the weight off of her. I can practically feel her watching over my shoulder like a vigilant hawk, but it saves her having to constantly deal with being footsore and sweaty.

It's still disgustingly hot during the day, especially back under the canopy of the rainforest, but the dark nights are actually getting kind of cold, especially with the day's humidity and nightly rains leaving us more or less permanently soaked.

"I do not understand how anybody could live somewhere so miserable," I groan as we trudge through the thick understory.

"I'm told that the wood from these forests is ideal for Degala's shipcraft," Talla says.

"It's rich in natural oils and highly resistant to rot, insects, and water." I guess that makes sense. We're a bit too far north—antiringward, I need to get used to the terminology here—to be in a truly tropical zone, but the local climate here has made the next best thing. Maybe a little too wet and verdant for furry desert people, but rich enough in valuable resources for the Degala tribe to tough it out anyway.

"I've got to hand it to them, Jira's tribe really struck gold with this place."

"Well, no," Talla sighs.

"As far as we know, the Barrier Mountains don't have any gold in them, but it's probably still the richest of the tribal lands." I chuckle, but don't bother to correct the misunderstanding.

"Why did the Empress give up on them, if they're so valuable?"

"It's in the name—the Barrier Mountains," Talla explains.

"They're not impassible, but getting to them in the first place requires passing through the Ansagaa desert." That would be the wasteland west—counter-ringwise—of the Sagaa river. The de facto tribal lands of the Obora tribe, and probably comparable to the Sahara desert on Earth. I almost reflexively perform my little recital at the memory, but at this point we've gathered so many tidbits that it seems fair to assume that our amnesia is slowly recovering.

"So to colonize it, you'd need an expedition prepared to cross a desert, and a mountain rainforest, all while carrying enough supplies to start a settlement."

"To say nothing of the difficulties involved with setting up trade routes," Talla agrees.

"And approaching by sea isn't easy either, thanks to the seasonal flooding that keeps the coastline in constant flux."

"So the people who want it most happen to also be the only people skilled enough to access it with any kind of consistency."

"Exactly. Mother suspects that the Degala tribe had been sourcing their timber from the barrier mountains long before it was officially designated as their tribal lands."

"It's probably also a win for the Empress to have officially tapped the resources here, even if the tribes are only nominally her subjects." She purses her lips.

"Perhaps. Most nobles are well aware how loose the fetters on the old tribes are, and many see their integration as a weak compromise to subjugation." Charming.

"Well, either way, they have my respect for living here, but I cannot wait to leave." Talla bursts out laughing, like I'd just told the best joke she's ever heard. It takes her a few moments to rein in the giggling, and I grow increasingly nervous throughout.

"What?" I ask, once she gets herself under control.

"The Blessed Lands are a strip of verdant and fertile grounds beneath the Great Wheel, along the world's equator," she says.

"It's said to have been blessed by the Goddess herself to always burgeon with life."

"Okay...?" My dread mounts as she looks me in the eyes. I know what she's going to say, but I don't want to let myself think it.

"It's a jungle, Allie. The largest in the world, stretching from one coast to the other."

"But we're going to the colonized parts, right?" I hedge.

"It's all jungle," she clarifies.

"I've never been there, but I've heard stories. You thought it was muggy in Degala's swamps? One of the most popular products smuggled through the embargo are the shampoos they produce in the Blessed Lands. Strong enough to kill mold without damaging skin or fur—because that's an everyday occurrence there." I grimace. I hadn't thought about that, and now I kind of wish I could unthink it.

"We call them the Blessed Lands, because they are full of life, not because they are a pleasant place to live." This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Well, that does go a long way towards explaining why it took so long for the continental superpower of Stebaa to attempt to colonize it. And probably also why they seceded. Who wants to go through all that only to have the one advantage of living there taxed away by a distant crown?

"Yuck," I groan.

"If I'd known it would be so miserable I might have thought twice about it."

"You never did tell me why you want to go there." I'm not entirely sure myself. The revelations I had while staring at the stars feel a bit more distant now, but the rough pattern has stayed with me.

"It's a... [crud] I don't know the word," I huff.

"[Inflection point]?" Talla furrows her brows as she attempts to translate the word. Even with magical help, she doesn't quite get there.

"The mathematics thing?" she muses.

"I'm afraid the more advanced and abstract mathematics are a bit beyond me."

"Not quite, but similar," I reply.

"I think we're in the middle of something that's going to end up as a major historical event, one way or another. And I think that the Blessed Lands are going to be a critical point in determining the trajectory of what comes afterwards." She blinks.

"Really? I suppose we are living in historic times, but why there, specifically?" Vibes? It came to me in a dream? I've got real reasons, but they're hard to articulate. Though I suppose it really all boils down to one key factor.

"It's where the food is." Talla frowns.

"That's not exactly a revelation, Allie," she says, her words slow and patient.

"The Blessed Lands are literally named for being a plentiful realm."

"Right, but that's going to matter a lot more when the largest and most powerful nation on the continent starts to run out." She stops in her tracks, casting me a worried look, like she can't decide whether to settle on disbelief or concern.

"You think Stebaa is going to suffer a famine?"

"I think it already is," I reply.

"We saw it for ourselves on our way down the Great Road shortly after we met."

"There's been a string of lean years, but the granaries are managing," she assures me. It sounds rote, though—like something she's heard or said dozens of times without questioning it.

"In time, my mother expects that it will even out."

"And if it doesn't?" I press.

"Actually, forget that I asked—it won't."

"It's distressing how certain you sound."

"You told me once that industrialization is good for everybody," I recall.

"That lowered costs and increased production leads to a higher quality of life for everybody, including the commons." She nods.

"I still stand by it."

"I don't necessarily disagree, but I'm not sure your empire is fully prepared for what that means."

"But you come from an older world," she muses.

"With more history. And so you've seen this before—or something like it. You can guess what will happen."

"Not precisely," I hedge.

"But in broad strokes, yes. As the average quality of life improves, each individual demands a higher upkeep for their day to day lives. At the same time, better health outcomes and stability leads to a rapid increase in population. More people, consuming more goods—in other words, it's not your production that's failing."

"It's increasing demand," she concludes.

"And just past the Ringward Mountains, our cousins enjoy a land of plenty, bought and paid for by the very same people who are about to starve." She doesn't sound as bitter about it as the words would imply. Instead, she's making the same connections, and the horror is outweighing any nationalistic inclinations she might have.

"It's going to be another war, isn't it?"

"Maybe," I hedge.

"Almost certainly if that embargo remains in place—the empire needs those resources. It's already hitting the limit of what the Sagaa can support." We continue down the path in silence for a few minutes while she considers this. I can tell that she doesn't want to believe it, but she's already scolded herself once for not taking me seriously.

"Say that all of this is true—that the empire is unable to bear the cost of its rapid progress, and that we are careening inexorably towards starvation and war—surely someone else would see it. Once you lay it all out like this, it doesn't seem like the sort of conclusion that can only be reached by studying history." I hum in acknowledgement, choosing my next words carefully.

"I'm told," I say slowly.

"That the previous war against the colonies ended rather abruptly." Talla's eyes widen.

"The Empress? You think she knows that this is happening?"

"Or someone advising her," I agree.

"She's in the right position to be looking at the bigger picture. Heck, if she's the same empress who ordered the colonies to be settled in the first place, she might have seen it coming all the way back then."

"She probably is," Talla confirms.

"Probably?"

"The exact identity of the Empress and her successor has been kept secret since the age of the Fifteenth Empress—who was usurped in a very bloody coup before shortly being reinstated in an even bloodier one. The office has remained cloistered ever since." Huh. Sounds kind of complicated. It might also be why the noble clans have so much more power, if the Empress is a secluded figurehead relegated entirely to foreign affairs and settling internal disputes at court.

"Wouldn't the matriarchs have seen her at court?" I ask.

"She obscures herself with veils and speaks through a servant, traditionally." Wow. Incognito rulers aren't completely unheard of, but they're pretty rare. Presumably she's got her own trusted inner circle, but that leaves her both sheltered and uniquely vulnerable. If she was replaced, who would even know? Stebaa is a weird place. By my standards, at least. I haven't gotten into it with her, but I bet Talla would have some real choice words about the idea of democracy.

"To be clear," Talla says, interrupting my thoughts.

"You think that the Blessed Lands will be the center of a war for the fate of the continent—and you want to go there? Why?"

"I'm not sure yet," I admit.

"I want to do something. Make a difference somehow—actually improve the world in a measurable way. I don't know how—we don't really know enough about science and technology to do more than slightly accelerate the industrial revolution you're already in—but I want to try, and I think that's the best place to do it." She gives me a long, searching look, then nods slowly.

"Then I'll be there with you, to help however I can."

"Thanks, Talla," I reply with a smile.

"I'm really glad we met you. I just hope we won't give you cause to regret it." At least, not any further. She snorts, adjusting the pack on her shoulder before continuing down the path.

"You should have thought of that before deciding to spend our winter in the jungle."