He knew Sam would be upset, but he had underestimated by how much. Still, he kept walking, though he slowed his steps so his friend could more effectively stomp through the snow as they went. He let the other man speak his mind, touched at the emotion in the bookmaker's usually-gentle voice and hearing the fear behind the anger. He stopped when his elbow was caught, turning to face his friend fully, and though his eyes were compassionate they were also adamant.
"I have almost died retrieving medicinal herbs for a friend," he said mildly. "I have almost died walking in the woods when I was attacked by wolves. And if we had failed the challenges in the dragon's book we would not have been dead, but trapped in stone and near enough to deceased, until someone else braved it to let us out. Life is dangerous. And living far more so than merely existing." He gave a little shake of his head, though he didn't try to retrieve the arm Sam had captured.
"You make a good point about the guild," he said, lips quirking into a wry smile. "I hadn't wanted things to become hierarchical, but we should hold a vote to see who will take over if something happens to me. We don't even know how many of us will survive Long Night, after all," he pointed out in return.
"But why do you think people keep trying to be free of this cage?" he asked, voice gentling. "Take a moment, please. Put yourself in the shoes of outlanders, or naturals whose native curiosity exceeds the limits imposed on them by the barrier. People who are used to roaming worlds, who miss their oceans, their deserts, their islands, their mountains. How would you feel if someone came along and locked you in your house? Boarded up your windows? They don't tell you why, but now you cannot leave. You cannot sell your books, or get new ones, and eventually you run out of materials to make new ones. Wouldn't you want to leave at some point?" Jigano shook his head again to forestall his friend's protest. "Now take that example and expand it, in both space and time. Your house is now the barrier, and it's not locked for years, but centuries... but the basic principles remain the same. It's taking people longer to go through the resources here, Sam, but the Accepted and the Attuned and the mages - they need to eat. They need grain and vegetables and meat, and the animals need to eat, and even the plants need to eat from good, black soil. But there is no renewal here. Just like you could not get out to get new books or supplies, within the barrier we can't get new animals, new plants. You've never seen a world that wasn't trapped in a bubble, but compared to where nearly every other outlander I've spoken with is from, this place is dying, Sam. Slowly, over the course of generations, but the soil is tired. The plants are stunted. The animals are dwindling. And the human population is, too. And if more and more outlanders continue to appear in the numbers we've seen recently, the resources will run out even faster. And then everyone will die anyways, in a terrible and lingering way I wouldn't not wish on my worst enemy." He looked behind them at the barrier, his gaze grim at its opaque surface.
"I have almost died retrieving medicinal herbs for a friend," he said mildly. "I have almost died walking in the woods when I was attacked by wolves. And if we had failed the challenges in the dragon's book we would not have been dead, but trapped in stone and near enough to deceased, until someone else braved it to let us out. Life is dangerous. And living far more so than merely existing." He gave a little shake of his head, though he didn't try to retrieve the arm Sam had captured.
"You make a good point about the guild," he said, lips quirking into a wry smile. "I hadn't wanted things to become hierarchical, but we should hold a vote to see who will take over if something happens to me. We don't even know how many of us will survive Long Night, after all," he pointed out in return.
"But why do you think people keep trying to be free of this cage?" he asked, voice gentling. "Take a moment, please. Put yourself in the shoes of outlanders, or naturals whose native curiosity exceeds the limits imposed on them by the barrier. People who are used to roaming worlds, who miss their oceans, their deserts, their islands, their mountains. How would you feel if someone came along and locked you in your house? Boarded up your windows? They don't tell you why, but now you cannot leave. You cannot sell your books, or get new ones, and eventually you run out of materials to make new ones. Wouldn't you want to leave at some point?" Jigano shook his head again to forestall his friend's protest. "Now take that example and expand it, in both space and time. Your house is now the barrier, and it's not locked for years, but centuries... but the basic principles remain the same. It's taking people longer to go through the resources here, Sam, but the Accepted and the Attuned and the mages - they need to eat. They need grain and vegetables and meat, and the animals need to eat, and even the plants need to eat from good, black soil. But there is no renewal here. Just like you could not get out to get new books or supplies, within the barrier we can't get new animals, new plants. You've never seen a world that wasn't trapped in a bubble, but compared to where nearly every other outlander I've spoken with is from, this place is dying, Sam. Slowly, over the course of generations, but the soil is tired. The plants are stunted. The animals are dwindling. And the human population is, too. And if more and more outlanders continue to appear in the numbers we've seen recently, the resources will run out even faster. And then everyone will die anyways, in a terrible and lingering way I wouldn't not wish on my worst enemy." He looked behind them at the barrier, his gaze grim at its opaque surface.
