Mireille looked around Althena’s rather Spartan quarters. Somehow, she knew that Althena would prefer an ascetic lifestyle—she just didn’t seem to be of the type given to pointless extravagance. It was actually rather nice… at least she wouldn’t have any distractions while she figured out how to get out of this mess—assuming, of course, that she could get her brain working the way it was supposed to so she could actually make the sensible choice.
The Corsican could hardly believe herself. She’d arrived at the Manor determined to destroy Noir at all costs, and now she was seriously considering joining it—and what was more, after an hour of trying to cut through all of the nutjob’s rhetoric, she actually found herself leaning even further towards “yes.” Really, the only thing that was holding her back was her hatred of Althena—if she acquiesced, if she agreed to become the Hand of Noir, it would be like justifying all the wrongs that had been committed against so many people just to bring her to this point. Of course, she also knew that one could argue that by turning Althena down, all of those people would have suffered for nothing. In fact, she had actually been a little surprised that Althena hadn’t tried to used that line of reasoning when the offer was originally made.
Mireille sighed and massaged her temples. “I just wish I could understand her.”
Much to the assassin’s surprise, another voice answered her from the doorway: “Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time as Althena’s assistant, it’s that you can never be entirely certain about what’s going on in her mind—but she always knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“Who are you?” Sure, the garments indicated that she was probably one of Althena’s subordinates, but that was hardly going to convince Mireille to trust this newcomer.
“My name is Jeanette, and I’ve been Althena’s personal assistant and secretary for a few years now. And to answer your next question, I just wanted to talk to you.”
Mireille snorted indignantly. “Why? To try and get me to believe that wacko ‘love can hurt so hate can save’ theory of hers? Nice try, but I don’t buy it.”
Jeanette’s answer was surprising. “Neither do I. In fact, no one else here does, except for Chloe and maybe Kirika, though she’s been so quiet, I can’t really gauge her opinion.”
“What?! Then you don’t support the reactivation of Noir?”
“No, I do—it’s just that the reason I can support the idea of Noir is totally different from Althena’s reasons. You see, I believe that it is not Noir’s hatred that will bring salvation to the world, but their anger.”
“Is there a difference?” Mireille asked with blatant skepticism.
“The difference is that anger is not necessarily a negative emotion—we only think that it is because it is often accompanied by hatred.” Jeanette paused; she’d need to illustrate this somehow. After about a minute, she remembered something she’d learned as a girl, when she’d been a bit more orthodox in her belief system. “Have you ever read the Christian Gospels?”
“I’m not exactly a religious person.”
“According to the New Testament, in the days leading up to the Crucifixion, several remarkable events happened. One of the more notable of these occurred when Jesus went to the temple and saw various moneylenders and salespeople doing business right there on the premises, in a place that was intended solely for the worship of God. It had probably been tolerated because all this activity concerned the sales of sacrificial animals to people from out of town who couldn’t afford to bring their own. But these merchants were absolutely unscrupulous, using price-gouging and aggressive tactics to bilk the poorest of the worshippers out of their money—and the worshippers couldn’t do anything about it, because they needed the animals in order for their sins to be forgiven. Do you know how Christ responded?”
Mireille nodded; she may not have read much of the Bible, but she had seen that one Scorsese flick. “He overturned the tables, set the animals free, made a makeshift whip out of cords, and drove the merchants and moneylenders out of the temple. I think he shouted out something about a ‘den of robbers,’ too.”
“Would you say he was angry? Destructive?”
“I suppose.”
“And yet nobody tried to stop him, because everyone knew he was right.”
“If you say so—though I personally don’t believe everything in the Bible is literally true.”
“You may not, but that’s not really my point. One third of the world’s population believes that Jesus Christ was a man capable of infinite love who lived a perfect, sinless life, yet these same people also believe that he was capable of destroying the wicked in his anger, as he does in that passage. And they see no contradiction in this at all. The human mind is perfectly capable of separating anger and hatred.”
“So?”
“So, I believe that Noir’s actions can come from love. Love for the innocent victims who can’t achieve justice on their own without losing the innocence that makes them morally superior their oppressors. This love manifests itself as an anger, but it’s a good anger—the kind that destroys that which cannot be redeemed.”
“In other words, Noir takes the sins the innocent should be committing upon itself?”
“That is what I believe.”
“Does Althena know that you disagree with her?”
“Of course. She trusts me because I wasn’t afraid to tell her that I thought she was wrong.”
“Uh-huh. And what about ‘everyone else’? Do they see things your way as well?”
“No, on the contrary, they all claim to agree with Althena.”
“But…”
“But they only want Noir reactivated because they believe they can control them, and thus increase the power of their faction within Soldats.”
Mireille fell silent—she wasn’t quite sure what to believe anymore. This woman, who looked younger than her (though that didn’t really tell her anything, since it seemed that people aged slower when they were on the Manor’s premises) had just given her an alternate way of seeing Noir, a way that was different from Althena’s view, which Mireille had dismissed as faulty almost out of instinct. What was more, Jeanette seemed to be earnest in her beliefs—which meant that she either genuinely held them, or she was a damned good actress. Still, there was so much uncertainty….
“Would you like my advice?” Jeanette asked.
“Let me guess, you think I should accept.”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I was going to suggest.”
“Then what?”
“Follow your heart.”
“Huh?”
“Right now, your intellect is probably coming to multiple (and no doubt conflicting) conclusions about becoming a part of Noir. So, ignore what you’re thinking and make your choice based on what you feel.”
“That goes against everything I’ve ever learned in my entire life.”
“Yet it’s obvious that trying to think this out is getting you no closer to a decision.”
Mireille had to admit that Althena’s assistant had a point: as things stood right now, she’d never make up her mind—at least, not before someone else made it up for her. So, with no other options apparent, she followed Jeanette’s advice.
Using her intellect, Mireille had deliberated for more than an hour and made absolutely no progress whatsoever. Using her emotions, it took her about three seconds.
“I’ll do it. I’m probably going to hate myself for it, but I’ll do it.”
Jeanette smiled. “Thank you.”
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(Posted Sat, 19 Aug 2006 08:06)
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