Monk

In the morning of the tenth day, one of the Rep’s many stewards came to his door. But this was no simple servant: He brought fine robes, oils, and a gold necklace for Hyran to wear. He dressed Hyran ritualistically, mumbling words in old Elvish. The ex-monk understood them, of course, but the ritual was a bit baffling. It seemed as if he had jumped back to an earlier era, when such elaborate rituals were the norm.
And then the servant spoke a direction, in the old tongue: “You have been granted an audience with the Most High Elf, the Representative of the Great Master. He will speak to you now, cleansed and purified. Follow me, and I will show you to him.”
Hyran bowed his head, intending only to nod, but the steward flipped a hood over Hyran’s head. Then, the two went out, walking the quiet streets to the Rep’s own cathedral.
Here, the floor sloped steeply up as they walked toward the other end. Though certainly not the oldest structure in Kezantopil, it certainly was the grandest. It was as long as the tree was in diameter, and the windows toward which they walked caught the rising sun through a wide gap in the trees known nowhere else in the known world. The sun was nearly blinding, in fact, but on they walked. Every surface was festooned with intricate carvings, which were on the most incredibly long and spindly extrusions Hyran had ever seen. Finally, at the altar, a wide, ornate ladder reached down to the sloped floor.
The steward stopped. “At the top of the ladder, you will find the answer you seek.”
Hyran decided that saying ‘Well, I sure hope so’ was not appropriate, so he merely nodded and began to climb.
The room he entered was just as ornate as the expanse below, and just as bright. But here, the light was diffused around the room, glowing from the walls themselves. The detail that created was simply fantastic.
“Ah, Hyran. I am so glad to have this chance to meet you.”
Huh? The Rep was glad to see him? “Oh, Father Supreme, it is I who should be so glad.”
“Good, Son, I am glad the feeling is mutual. You see, your ramblings about this or that facet of our faith have fascinated me from the first one I read. I confess I cannot always agree, of course, but they certainly are food for thought. I was quite saddened to hear of your leaving.”
“I am flattered.”
“Now, I believe I have an answer for you. What is your question?”
Hyran took a breath, hoping that his angle would be the right one. It mustn’t look, until too late, that he was advocating poilitcal interference. Finally, he began. “It has often been said that the Great Master has the power to guide us in our lives when he so chooses.”
“Yes, he does. However, he never makes it obvious. Only those who know him well would know for sure.”
“When does he guide us? Are there specific times, or simply at random?”
“Oh, at specific times, according to his plan, of course. He likes to help us in our lives, so he will either guide us to a lesson, or out of trouble, or he will use us to help someone else.”
“Well, this is something I’ve been struggling with. The Great Master certainly can not be involved with the imprisonment of the light Vle, can he?”
“Oh, most certainly not.”
“Still, he did not prevent it.”
The Rep nodded. “I myself have been praying hard for an answer. It grieves me so, but I cannot find an answer to why.”
“Especially since this violates his Mandate of Personal Freedom.”
“Most certainly. It is times like these that test your faith, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but that would not be an acceptable reason for violating his own Mandate.”
“Certainly not. His Mandates are more important to him than the soul of a mere Vle.”
“It is interesting that you should say that. I find myself wondering: If the Great Master is not preventing the violation of his Mandate, might it be that we are to take a part in the prevention?”
The Rep’s eyes widened, and he stood as he spoke. “You should know better than to ask for interference in politics! It violates everything I know and stand for! Guards! GUARDS!”
Two large Vle in smaller, tighter robes burst up the ladder, and took hold of Hyran. More calmly, the Rep continued. “As of this moment, I and the Great Master renounce any claim to your soul as a member of His Holy Church, never again to be accepted within the halls of any sacred or sanctified place. You are tainted in his sight. Go from the gates of this city, and never return.”
Hyran sighed. “It makes no sense. If his Mandates are more important than your soul or mine, what should it matter if we violate his vows?”
“Silence! I will not hear such blasphemy! Take him away!” And with that Hyran got a rather bumpy trip to his quarters. There, he gathered his stuff, and was relieved of his robe in favor of the shirt and breeches the general populace wore. Finally, he got another bumpy escort to the gate through which he had entered. The guards were not rough— simply determined.
At the gate, the robed guard who had let him in some weeks earlier shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. One does not annoy the Rep when one is his guest.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.”
“Ta, ta,” replied the guard with a smile. Hyran could have been annoyed, but he decided not to be. The guard was at least being polite...
But now he had a new challenge to face: where to go, and how? He had no meal-grain left, and he had not been allowed to partake one last time of the church’s hospitality. Nor would any other church he passed, now that he was no longer a ‘believer.’
True, there was no reason he couldn’t get in anyway. After all, though most knew his name from his writings, few knew his face. If necessary, he didn’t even have to give his real name.
But that would be cheating. The Great Master’s Representative had just expelled him from the world-wide club of the Forgiven, and to enter a church on false pretenses was to violate the trust Hyran still held in the Great Master.
Oh, dear, a conundrum.
Hyran mulled his problem and his options (that is, his lack of them) without moving for a while. It was quite a few minutes before he realized some Vle were looking at him strangely.
He looked back at them and said, “Excuse me,” before heading off. Even so, he didn’t really know where he was going. He simply wandered, looked at the town, tried to think of his problem, and also tried to put it out of his mind. And then, all of a sudden, he met Valph.
“Well, Hyran! I see you’ve gotten rid of your robe.”
“Not by choice. The Rep expelled me.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. Apparently, his vows are very, very sacred to him.”
“Well, ears, tell me about it.”
So Hyran did. He didn’t consider it an exciting story, but the young man seemed keenly interested. And in return, Valph told Hyran a little bit about the events that had meanwhile occurred in the squatters camp. That was boring, since it was mostly a story of meeting Vle and how great and loving they were and how many converts he had made and so on.
“So, like, what now, ears?”
Hyran sighed. “I dunno. I was trying to figure that out when we ran into each other. I guess I could just go home. I came, I saw, I lost.”
“Oh, ears, don’t give up! Just because you can’t convince the Rep doesn’t mean you can’t convince the Vle themselves.”
“But what am I supposed to convince them to do? I hardly think they’re going to rise up and challenge the army.”
“Why not? And what have you got to lose by trying?”
“Well, weight, for starters. I can’t sleep and eat in churches anymore.”
“Well, hey, you’re welcome to travel with us. We’ve got a group going up to Dronac to try to picket the palace, and collect as many followers along the way as we can. If we get enough, we might even blockade the camp.”
“Oh, I’m sure I would be welcome. As long as I join your cult?”
“Cult? Oh, excuse me? Is that what you think we are? No, ears, we’re just followin’ what we believe. And no, we’re not gonna make you join. I’m just saying that, since we have a common goal, you can come with us.”
“I suppose it’s another hunger walk.”
“No, not anymore. I’ve done that my one required time. See, what we do is make stuff— like bracelets and necklaces and pretty things like that— and sell them for meal-grain and meat. And we can always pick fruit off the trees.”
The more Hyran thought about it, the more it made sense. After all, he could leave them anytime he wanted. “Well, let me think about it tonight,” was his eventual answer.
“Okay, no pressure. But just so you know, we leave tomorrow. And, where are you gonna sleep tonight?”
!! Hyran hadn’t thought of that yet. He shrugged, and tried to think of the options. Of course, there still weren’t any, except—
“Ha, I thought so. Come one, I’ve got a space in my tent. No obligation, either.”
“Of course.”
“Of course.”
Valph then proceeded to make a big deal out of their visitor, and everyone Hyran met went out of their way to welcome him. It was a little too much— no, it was way too much— but he put up with it and responded kindly. After all, they were providing him with a roof over his head and food for his stomach. How could he complain about what was obviously genuine interest in just being friendly?
The tent wasn’t large, but it was decent. It kept out the bugs, and it kept the rain off his head, two very important things that night. He wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to sleep as soundly outside.
That’s not to say he slept very soundly. It took a while for his thoughts about the day had died down before he could fall asleep.

The general rode out the next morning, in the same direction from which the prince had come, even wearing the same riding cloak. The sun hadn’t made it over the mountains yet, but the camp was busy. Everything had to be in a state of readiness, not so much in case of attack as simply to avoid one. Taréz actually toyed with the idea of inviting an attack by having the camp appear to be unready, but decided that there was nothing to be gained by that.
Soon after the sun came over the mountains, shining pleasantly, the sentries sounded the signal of an attack approach. Immediately, all of them dropped down behind the crest a bit, but continued watching.
Messengers ran up, conferred, and came back to the prince with news. “They’re bringing a catapult this time,” the message commander reported, a bit of surprise on his face.
“A catapult? Is that new?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Well, they can only have built it right here.” He turned to his second-in-command. “Okay, split camp, and spread out as much as possible. Try to find holes where supplies can be kept safe. Commander, have your men go back up and tell the sentries to indicate where the load is flying. That should give us some time to move out of the way. But at no point should they stand up. Rolling from place to place might be a good idea. And let me know when the catapult is in range.”
“Yes, Sire.” The commander led his men back up to the crest.
Taréz followed everyone out, and turned immediately to the tent stakes. “We’re moving this about 50 yards north,” he told the surprised secretary.
“Of course, Sire.” The secretary motioned for others to help, and bent to remove a few stakes himself. “I’ll bring out the table so we can move the tent, Sire.”
“Negative. If we bring it out, their watchers will know which one is mine. It’s foldable, though, correct?”
“Yes, Sire,” was the reply, and he ducked inside for a moment.
The whole operation was nearly finished when the signal came from above. Everyone looked, and split just in time. The load, a boulder, crashed with a thud onto empty ground, rolling harmlessly down.
“Don’t watch it land! Keep watching the sentries!” Taréz commanded, and the work resumed. When the tent was in place, he called his second-in-command.
“We can stay reasonably safe like this, but it’s going to be a drain on resources if we have to keep watching the skies and be always ready to move. We can’t maintain our equipment. They might even keep launching through the night. Recommendations?”
“We have to take out the catapult.”
“They’ll be expecting that.”
“So we’ll have to be creative.”
Taréz considered that. Lips pursed, he headed up the slope. “Sire?” came the lieutenant’s voice behind him, “I wouldn’t recommend that.”
“I need to see the position of the catapult.” The climb wasn’t an easy one, especially in places where the prairie grass was gone. Near the top, he dropped to the ground to look over.
On the other side of a small vale, in a U-shaped mountain valley, the catapult sat in plain view. Sneaking up on the machine was not going to be easy, if it was even possible. “Can a flaming arrow go that far?” he asked the sentry near him.
“Only with a very large crossbow. There’d be no surprise, then. In any case, that’s probably made of mountain pine. And they have buckets of water ready.”
“The we’ll have to overwhelm them with arrows. We shoot two hundred arrows a minute until the thing is ash.”
“Do we have two hundred crossbow teams?”
“We’d better.” Taréz slid down from the crest and walked back to his tent, where the lieutenant waited.
“Do we have two hundred crossbow teams?”
“Close. One hundred fifty.”
“And I suppose only that many bows?”
“No, three hundred. What are you thinking?”
“They have their catapult pretty well protected, so we’ll have to overcome that protection with numbers. Get the teams ready, and train fifty more teams as soon as possible. Make sure as many preparations are made down here as possible. Have the teams line up just under the crest, and on my mark, they are to fire in sequence. Can a reload be accomplished in that short a time?”
“A reload can be done in one hundred shots.”
“Good! Once the shooting begins, archers may shoot again as soon as they’re ready.”
The lieutenant went off to give the orders. Taréz hoped the preparations wouldn’t look too suspicious, as the teams got together— often from opposite ends of the now diffuse camp. The crossbows were transported and stored disassembled, so a few Vle took wagonfuls or the pieces around to the teams. The teams then headed up the hill, and waited for the word.
“Now,” Taréz told the southernmost team. Immediately, they put their crossbow together, and the rest followed suit. A whistle told Taréz when the nothernmost team was ready.
Across the gully, Taréz could see the catapult team was watching carefully. They appeared to know something was up, but would have had to rely on their sentries high on the mountains to tell them exactly what. “Fire.”
With that one word began one hundred and fifty flames, applied to one hundred and fifty ball-tipped arrows, which sequentially headed toward the catapult. Even before the hundredth arrow flew, the crossbowmen nearest Taréz set another flying. Many didn’t hit their mark, but they had an equally desirable effect: It was too dangerous to try to protect the catapult. The light Vle scattered, either into the forest or behind the machine itself. From there, they tried to douse the flames with their water buckets, but the water couldn’t reach the front of the catapult. Soon it was engulfed in flames, and those that had been hiding had to run for the forest.
“Cease fire.” The prince’s first battle had been won.

The camp sat quiet, and Taréz was glad for the relaxation. It gave him the luxury to read the messages that had arrived. One related events on the southern peninsula. A force of humans hit the shore that day and were now fighting for control of Fort Kezna. They had not yet struck anything alight. However, they were not battling a full force. Most of the humans who landed moved on into the forest. It was felt that the peninsula would be lost, so the forest commander advised Gardric to concentrate forces at Hame. That way, the size of the front would be minimized.
Humans! Humans were involved in the battle! That explained a lot— why the A’peinans and Varmacians had attacked here, why the Kamileans had hit the southeast. It was to prepare the way for the Humans! As if they needed any help, with all their sophisticated weaponry.
He dropped off the chair to his knees and just leaned on the desk. Humans! What right had they to get involved? Never had a human brought weapons onto Larmanian soil, but their battle prowess was legendary, from the times when his ancestors had merely been tribal chiefs and the Humans were taking over the island they now occupied. Were they now intent on adding to their territory?
The other message added insult to injury. The Dwarves had attacked between Lake Kdeet and Belobon Bay. After great initial losses of lives and territory, the situation was stabilized, but even if the status quo could be maintained, the front would reach Dronac and the Royal Palace in five weeks.

The trip took about a week, the last day being on horseback for more anonymity. Along the way, he received a few updates on the war effort. One confirmed that the light Vle had resorted to harrying, with arrows and other projectiles, the dark Vle encampment Taréz was headed to. Though the camp was too far away for such attempts to be effective, neither did they come down from the mountains to get any closer. The general was drafting plans to try to attack any who did try to get closer, but it wasn’t easy.
Another two messages concerned the kingdoms to the north, which said simply that the war didn’t concern them and that they wouldn’t be helping. Those really boiled Taréz’s blood. This concerned all dark Vle! It wasn’t as if relations between, say, Baldia and A’peine were rosy and happy. In fact, they quite disliked each other, and yet the Baldians were apparently refusing a chance to address that dislike.
But the last one was the worst, a frantically scrawled one from Lord Hilonia: “A light Vle force from Kamilea landed on my shores today and have taken over completely My force was no match, but neither did they fight with valor. I will be heading north to Creaz. Please send troops quickly before they overrun Varabia as well!”
Poor Hilonia! The distant cousin of a very important noble near Dronac, his grandfather had been lucky enough to be in favor in court when Hilonia had been taken from Varmac. The family had never really integrated very well, and the separateness kept the area unsteady enough to not be very profitable. Still, its position near the open sea made it an unparalleled port fiefdom, and worth defending at all cost.
“Has any response been given to this one?”
“I don’t know, Sire,” said the army’s envoy. “I do know that copies were sent to His Majesty the King and to Chief Gardric.”
“Send... two hundred of the mountain force. I’m sure there are that many who are better trained for plains warfare. It may be too late, but I have to try.”
“Yes, Sire.” The envoy kicked his mount into a full gallop; even at that pace, the mountains were a day away.
The mountains. Visible as a dark band on the horizon.
Another two days passed, and another report came. Taréz’s father had authorized Gardric to commandeer whatever ships were necessary to get forces across the gulf. More ominous, the King had reason to believe local forces were not necessarily sympathetic to the cause.

The encampment sat on the back side of a foothill, the mountains rising beyond. A cool breeze blew from that direction, and Taréz shivered a bit. Dark Vle were not really meant to be this far south.
He inspected the camp as he approached. Sentries stood on the crest, overlooking prim organization. Things had apparently been fairly quiet. For a moment, Taréz thought perhaps he should have requested a more active post.
A private rode out to escort him, but he waved it off. “I don’t want my presence to be anything special.”
“Yes, Sire.” He rode back to his previous position and went back to his business.
The general’s tent was a non-descript one toward the northern end of the camp. Taréz tied his horse to the post right outside, and saluted at the secretary who met him.
“Saluting to me, Sire? You’re taking this deception to heart.”
“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. Is the general ready to go?”
“Yes, Sire...” began the secretary as they headed into the interior room.
“In fact, I’m very anxious to get out of here. I’d like to see some real action. If you don’t mind me saying, Sire, I would never have volunteered for this.”
“It is essentially holdout warfare, isn’t it?” Taréz agreed. “I’m guessing the briefing will live up to its name?”
“Brief, yes. We’ve had 51 attacks in the 18 days we’ve been here, but lately the frequency has been down to about every other day. The last two have even been at the same time of day.”
“They’re as bored as we are. Casualties?”
“Sixteen. Five are due to accidents.”
“Accidents?! I won’t have that on my battlefield. General, do you know Lieutenant Difray?”
“I do. We trained together as recruits,” he replied with a smile.
“He’s here as a disciplinary action. Any suggestion as to an appropriate post?”
Without a beat, the general replied, “Sentry commander.”
Taréz noticed Difray rolling his eyes, but let it go. “So be it.” Difray saluted and went out to his new post.

Prince

If only the pigeon could fly like the falcon.
It took days, at least three, for a bird to arrive from the far eastern reaches of Larmania, which was frustrating when war was a possibility. For all the Prince knew, his nation could be at war at the very moment he prayed there wouldn’t be one.
Who knew if prayer really did any good, anyway?
“Sire?”
Taréz looked up from his desk, where he was studying the finance books. (No success.) Stecky stood there holding a tray with a small paper roll on it. “Yes, Stecky.”
The young Vle approached. “A message has arrived by pigeon, and your father wishes you to attend, Sire.”
“War?”
“I didn’t ask, Sire.”
“Of course not.” It would have been presumptuous for the chamberlain to do so. “Lead on.”
He arrived at the same time as his mother. That added to his already heightened sense of foreboding. The King took the little scroll, unbroke the seal, and read the message. Then, his shoulders slumped. “War, Father?”
“Yes. Four days ago, the A’peinese force attacked. It apparently went well, though— it was not surprise, and almost immediately, the force retreated into the mountains. The general heeded the Chief’s advice and didn’t pursue.”
“So our forces didn’t suffer many casualties?”
“Very few. Your guesses were right.”
“About their intentions?”
“Apparently so. I just hope our other guesses were right. But, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” The King looked at Fylen first, who came over to sit on his lap. “I’d like to send the both of you away from here. Fylen, I’d like you to go north. Back to Baldia if you like.”
“Nonsense. A Queen’s place is by the King’s side.”
“I’m not worried about where you belong, I’m worried about your safety. I cannot even imagine them doing the same to you as to me.”
“But—”
“No buts. You’re leaving one week from now. Taréz.”
Was Father going to send him away as well?! “With all due respect, Father, I’d rather not leave, either. If it’s time for our line to leave the throne, then so be it.”
“No, no, Taréz, I need you to go out to meet our forces at the border with A’peine. No one but the soldiers need know who you are, but I think it would be a very good education for you to see some action. Gardric will entrust you with that command, will he not?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Good. That will free the current commander to join the force on the peninsula. We’ll need a real expert of war there, one who is nevertheless far more expendable than you. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
Relieved, Taréz replied, “It will be far better than running from the conflict, Father. Have you spoken with Gardric about this?”
“Not yet, but I intend to. Until then, I want you to prepare, and prepare well. You may be out there for a long time, and you might not even know if the palace itself falls. You will need to be able to escape to Baldia.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Father, I would rather stay even then, incognito.”
“Of course.”
Taréz stood, raising his fist. “But we shouldn’t be so pessimistic! We will keep our enemies out, and we shall retain the throne forever!”
“By the Great Master, I sure hope so.”
“You’ve been swearing that oath a lot lately, Father...”

Just a half hour later, Taréz was packed and ready for war. He turned to wave to his parents, watching from the window above, and got into the coach. “To the camp, driver,” he commanded.
As the coach started, the driver asked, “The camp? Were my instructions wrong?”
“No, I just thought now would be a good time to visit. Gardric is busy, so I can throw my weight around a bit better.”
As beautiful as the scenery was (even in the rain!), he just couldn’t pay attention to it. Instead, he imagined (as best he could) what might be happening on the battlefield he was headed to. Was there enough of a force? Could the genius of Gardric save the nation from an attacker who had already taken large parts of the southeast?
Part of him said yes, the other said, you must be dreaming.
The coach arrived and he went directly up to the observation room. He was a little surprised by what he found: Yis and a lieutenant were arguing heatedly. “I should have you thrown in there with the rest of them!” the short dark Vle was saying. “Burn the King’s favor of you!”
Taréz cleared his throat, and almost smiled when the lieutenant turned nearly as pale as Yis. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, D- Difray, Sire.”
“Well, D-difray, I think perhaps it would be best if you came with me to the battlefield. Send a pigeon. Dismissed.”
“Yes, Sire.” The dark Vle was glad to get out of there.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Sire. I’m not well trusted among the staff here.”
“Well, considering who their commander is, should we be surprised? So how are things?”
“Not worsening, Sire, but neither are they improving. There are still more arrivals, at a pace roughly equal to our ability to build. It used to be downright dangerous whenever we finished a new structure, but now we’ve got squatters who sit on a floor as soon as there is one so that they have a secured spot.”
“So, The King’s personal funds are doing some good?”
“Eventually, Sire, we will have it all finished and everyone will have a roof over their heads.”
“How often has it rained?”
“Oh, I’d say fifty of the days since I got here. Luckily, it doesn’t slow construction completely. We can always finish the interiors and let more Vle inside.”
“Doesn’t look like the fence has been begun.”
“No. They haven’t yet figured out how to expand it without making a hole we can escape through. Not that I would mind if that happened.”
The rueful sarcasm stabbed Taréz in the heart, and he struggled not to let it show. He knew Yis could tell anyway. “Well. Keep thinking. I imagine things are better without Gardric around?”
Yis shook his head. “No, he apparently gave his inferiors strict instructions to really be cruel. They’ve carried them out very well.”
“I may have to have a talk with them.”
“That may not work.”
“What?! Why not?” The suggestion that an order from him would be ineffective...!
“Because you won’t punish them for being so cruel, while Gardric will for not being cruel enough. Sometimes I think that’s the real source of these soldiers’ cruelty. It’s Gardric.”
Taréz listened, but didn’t quite believe that. Gardric really cared for his inferiors— as long as they were dark, of course. “I’d better try, anyway. What was the name of his second-in-command? Fass.., Fiss...”
“The name you’re trying to remember, Sire, is Fesson, and I’m sorry to say, he doesn’t exist.”
“Come again?”
“There is no one named Fesson here. Never was. It’s Gardric’s name for nobody. If I or you give an order he doesn’t like, he commands ‘Fesson’ to do it.” Taréz got angrier and angrier as Yis continued. “I found out one time when I overheard a young private relaying an order from me. He asked his superior, ‘Who’s Fesson?’ and the elder chuckled. Then, his answer was, ‘Don’t worry about it, kid. Just give me the message and I’ll make sure it gets to him.’ All the time, the man wore a bemused expression. From then on, I always gave my requests with the name of a specific Vle within the ranks. So far, it’s worked.”
“By the Great Master! That’s... mutiny! Treason, even! Disobeying a direct order!” Taréz felt as if he could punch a hole in the wall, but he put his fist through the door instead. “Let’s see ‘Fesson’ fix that!” He stepped into the hall. “Difray! Get up here on the double!”
‘On the double’ for the lieutenant turned out to be exactly two minutes, time during which Lajot only got angrier. “You called for me, Sire?”
“Yes. First, I want to review and speak to the troops as soon as they are ready. Please tell me what exact wording Gardric used regarding the treatment of our guests?”
“‘Show less respect for them than they for you,’ he said, Sire.”
Taréz only nodded in reply, biting his lip. Then he said, “Second, I want Fesson up here to fix this door.”
“Uh, I’m sorry Sire, but Fesson... isn’t here right now.”
“Indeed? Well, where is he, then?”
“He’s with Gardric, on the front line.”
“Is he, now? Funny thing. You see, the general I’m on my way to replace says that he had an Vle named Fesson... die during an attack. And he was the only Fesson enlisted.”
“Well, we’ve had a number of recruits recently...”
“And would one of those recruits already have advanced enough to have command of the building project out there?” asked Tarez, pointing out the window. “I don’t think so! My order stands. No one but Fesson is to fix that door.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Now, go about my other order.”
“Yes, Sire. Ten minutes Sire.”
“Very well. Dismissed.”
The younger Vle darted out of the room, undoubtedly scared by the Prince a second time. While waiting, Taréz continued his conversation with Yis. Then, a private came for him, and led him down to a rather large hall (Taréz decided it was probably a mess hall) where all the troops stationed there were in line. He walked along, inspecting the uniforms while all the Vle stood as stock still as they possibly could.
After he inspected the last, he circled back to stand before every one of them. “It is my understanding,” he began, “that Gardric told you to have less respect for our guests then they have for you. I order you now to reverse that order. These people are our guests. They are to be treated with twice the respect that they give you. Or more! If I hear of any more indiscretions or unusually cruel acts, then you will see your commander disciplined tenfold of whatever discipline he has given you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sire!” the Vle barked, but it was clearer to Tarez that they were now quite confused. Their stony faces simply couldn’t hide it.
“Dismissed!”
As the troops marched out, Difray came over. “You seem to have quite a commanding presence, Sire. It will be an honor to serve on the field with you.”
“Sorry, it’s too late for flattery now, Difray. Come, we have a battle to get to.”

Her mother was more than surprised when she entered. “Mecora! Where in the forest have you been?!”
“Hiding with Spreak. I just came back to get some food.”
“Listen, dear, if you think I’m going to just give you some food so you can keep up this little game of yours, you’re badly mistaken! Do you realize what you did today? You humiliated me! I thought I had brought up a daughter who was polite and respectful of the elders and the community, and then you bite Stussell! That’s babyish!”
“Well. how else was I going to get Spreak free? I couldn’t shrug my shoulders and say, ‘I give up!’”
“And why not? Would it be so hard for you to do the right thing for once?”
“I did, Mom. I’ve already lost some friends to that flaming camp. I’m not gonna lose a brand-new friend.”
Her mother thought for a moment. “So, basically, you’re saying that your morality is better than the King’s.” The tone dripped with sarcasm.
But Mecora straightened her back and said, “Yes. In this case, I’m righter than the King.”
“Do you even have the slightest clue as to what the consequences are?”
“No. Do they matter? I mean, what can they do to me? I’m dark!”
“Mecora—”
“Now, are you going to let me have something to eat, or should I get it myself?”
Her mother just stood there as she collected her glowworm lamp and a few things from the cool closet. Then she left, back out into the darkness.

As she started up the steps toward the monastery, Mecora realized with a start that she would have just as much trouble finding the hole as the elders had, if Spreak had closed it up again. She lit the lamp, deeming it safe now that she was on the far side of the tree. However, he hadn’t closed the hole completely. It was pretty small, about the size a woodpecker would make.
“Spreak! I’m back.”
There was a few hummed notes, and the hole grew. “Great. What did your mom say?”
Mecora recounted the conversation, editorializing in places. “I can’t believe that a whole town of people— especially elders— could just give up like sheep rolled on their backs.”
“You did it again.”
“What?”
“You used a metaphor again.”
“Oh, the sheep? Yeah, I guess I did.”
“I’m glad you’re not a sheep.”
“Me too.” She paused, and realized she was still holding the food and the lamp. The latter she set down between them. “Oh, uh, I’ve got some meal-grain here. I’m sorry it’s not made into bread or anything, but, uh, I’ve got some fruit, too...”
“It’s enough. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
A few more uncomfortable moments passed, when the silence demanded to be broken, but she couldn’t think of anything to say— at least, nothing that wasn’t silly in some way.
Finally, he said, “So, tell me about these friends you mentioned...”
They talked themselves to sleep.

They stayed up there most of the time. The monastery had few visitors, none of which even noticed the little hole. No one noticed Mecora’s nightly forays, either, though they did notice her absence at the parties. Handa’s mom once even commented that she kinda missed her morning visits.
“Sorry, I’ve got something more important in my life than parties now,” was generally Mecora’s reply, but she never said what. She kind of suspected that the town knew it was Spreak that was more important, but she didn’t care. Just as long as they never tried to take him away.
In the meantime, they talked at night, and slept during the day. One day, however, they were awakened by the characteristic rumble of more light Vle going by. “What’s that?!” Spreak asked.
“Light Vle moving northwest.”
“By the Great Master, is that what it sounds like? I never imagined...”
“Well, you would have heard it, if you were in one.”
“Yeah, but you don’t realize just how loud it is, or how it carries through the forest. Hey, you know, hunting would be great a ways in front of that.”
“Spreak! How can you think like that! Those are your kinsmen down there, walking their lives away, and you think about the hunt? I thought you weren’t that good, anyway.”
“I’m not, so I’ve had to learn special techniques. And, by the way, those are your kinsmen, too.”
“Yeah.” Duh. How could she of all Vle have forgotten that? “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
They watched the rest of the ‘parade’ pass from their slightly widened hole. No one apparently noticed them watching, not even the soldiers.

Girl

Mecora leaned against “her” statue, but didn’t really watch what was going on around her. Usually she did, wondering at the business this or that person was off to, what they might be thinking, what their concerns might be. But this day, she just sat and thought about how important everybody thought their own lives were, too important to stop and think about what was going on. It was as if the light Vle issue was a taboo subject, something not even discussed in private, or when drunk.
“Hi.”
Mecora looked up to see Relie standing there, dressed to travel. “Hi. Going somewhere?”
“Yeah. My family’s moving again.”
“Really? Why?”
“Dad says this town’s too negative. We haven’t really been accepted here, anyway.”
“Is anywhere else gonna be different?”
Relie shrugged. “I dunno. Why not?”
“Light Vle are gone all over the place, unless you go to a town where there weren’t any to begin with.”
“Yeah. Dad says we’re going west.”
“Well. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She sat on the corner of the statue’s base. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends.”
Mecora wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to say so. So, she just said, “Yeah.”
“I hope you find a good friend someday. I think you really are a friendly person, if you want to be.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
There was silence for a moment before the younger girl aked, “Do you ever wish you could just stop time, and make it go backwards?”
“Always, Relie. It consumes me, even though I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’ve already experienced the changes. We can never really go back. It will always be different.”
“I know, but it’s a nice dream anyway.”
“Yeah.”
A male voice called from the next platform up. “Relie!”
“Coming, Dad!” yelled Relie. She stood up, and sighed. “I hafta go now.”
“Bye, Relie. I hope you find a good friend, too.”
“Thanks. Bye!” She turned, and walked toward the lift to meet her family.
And once again, Mecora felt alone. It made no sense to pine for even that little acquaintance which she was now losing. Was her life really so empty?
And the only possible answer was, yes.
Relie’s wasn’t the only family moving out in search of better opportunities, and a more positive environment. There were the Phollin’s, the Tash’s, the Nonor’s.... There was a time when the Most High Elder of the town could proudly count more than four thousand Vle whenever he spoke. Now, he didn’t count at all, but rumors put the figure at less than two thousand, and dropping. Rumors weren’t truth, perhaps, but they were effective in continuing the trend of moving away.
Which was something Mecora’s family couldn’t afford to do. And couldn’t afford to not do.
Mecora stood and started to wander through the town, looking at the now empty spaces, holes in the tree that it would eventually reclaim. Mecora just hoped that it wouldn’t happen before the owners returned.
In another time, in what seemed like another life, Mecora and friends would have gladly gone romping in the abandoned places, looking at the things that were left behind, finding hidden spaces, enjoying the darkness. And, of course, they would eventually have made too much noise giggling, and been discovered, and then there would have been big trouble. It would have been worth it.
But not now. The darkness, the abandonment that seemed to ask for her company, just wasn’t that inviting. All she would do was sulk, after all, and she could sulk anywhere.
Even where she now found herself— at the bottom of the steps to the monastery. She didn’t climb them this time, knowing there was no point. But it was enough to simply sit there, and try to listen to the sounds of nature.
But nature wasn’t obliging. Instead it was strangely quiet, like it was whenever danger approached. What was coming?
And then she herself heard it: the thunder of hooves and wagon wheels. It was becoming a fairly familiar sound, now, as more and more light Vle headed by on their way northwest. Mecora could see from her vantage point that not a single head of those she could see in town turned in the direction of the approaching sound.
Below, the light Vle appeared from around a tree, and it was clear from their stance that they had already been walking for quite some time. The whips of the soldiers could no longer make them go any faster, though it didn’t seem as though the mounted Vle had noticed, or cared to notice.
The last of them passed, the forest returned to quiet, the animals even began to make their noises again. At least they were polite enough to recognize the passing, Mecora mused.
She stood and walked back to the town. Soon after crossing the bridge, she passed an elder. “Why do you go out there? You know they won’t let you up.”
“I know. It’s just quieter out there.”
“You know, Mecora, the more you sulk, the worse it’ll get. You have to move on, or else life will leave you behind.”
“Are you trying to tell me to forget my friends, and just pretend they don’t exist?”
“Well... You may have to. The King does have reasons for what he does. We may not always know what they are, but if he found the light Vle dangerous, then perhaps some are.”
Mecora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How can you say that?! Some of your friends are locked up, too!”
“I know, dear, I know. We all have to make our little sacrifices for the good of the kingdom.”
Her blood boiled, and her tongue let loose: “Burn you, and burn this whole town!” Finally, all she could do was dash away.
Though she thought she was headed home, she realized just before she opened the door that she had arrived at the house where Ueal had lived. She was about to turn around and run home, but she heard a sound inside, like something was bumped.
Slowly, cautiously, she opened the door. It was dark, but her eyes soon adjusted. All of the furniture was just as she remembered, only covered by a thick layer of dust. She heard a shuffle from the master bedroom, so she went as quietly as she could in that direction. Then, she opened the door.
From behind a chest, a foot stuck out. “Who’s there?”
No reply.
She went over to the chest, and said, “I can see your foot. Who are you?”
The foot disappeared behind the chest, and she heard another shuffle. Finally, the person stood.
It was a light-skinned boy maybe a couple years older than her. “Don’t tell, please don’t tell! I won’t hurt anyone, I promise!”
“Why should I think you would? Except maybe the odd rabbit or two, and whatever insect you care to torture. What are you doing in here? This is my friend’s house!”
“You mean— your friend is—”
“Yeah, ‘camping.’ Actually two of them. And another drank herself to death, she was so depressed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. Well, come on. You can’t stay in here forever.”
“Why not? I’d rather.”
“Someone would hear you! Who knows what they’d do then.”
“But where can I go? I don’t have any idea where I am, I can’t hunt very well...”
“You can’t hunt?!” Mecora couldn’t believe it. Most boys learned to as part of growing up. “Why not?!”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t hunt, I just meant I’m not very good at it. I’m not good enough to feed myself.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, my name’s Spreak.”
“Mecora. Nice to meet you. Now, come on. Let’s go to my Mom’s house. By the way, how did you get here without being noticed?”
“Every house has a water pipe. I just picked the first available dry one.”
“Your parents must be worried sick about you.”
“I know. But I’m gonna get them out. Someday, I will! And then we can all just go back to Varmac.”
“You mean, you didn’t grow up here in Larmania?”
“No! We were just on vacation.”
“Vacation? What’s that?”
“It’s... it’s when you leave home to go somewhere else. Just for the fun of it, or to see different scenery, different trees...”
“Wow. Your family must be rich.”
Spreak shrugged. “Well, I guess you could say that we are.”
Mecora couldn’t even imagine having enough money to leave home just for fun. She tried, but then realized she and Spreak still were in Ueal’s house. “Come on, let’s go to my house.”
Spreak appeared to hesitate, and then nodded. “Okay, but if we get trouble, I’m outta this town for good.”
“We won’t, I promise.” Mecora opened the door, and they cautiously walked out. In the improved light, Mecora realized Spreak was cute! She swallowed. “Act like absolutely nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah,” agreed Spreak.
Mecora did her best, but there were those who stared. Children pointed, and told their mothers; other adults whispered in their friend’s ears. In fact, an elder actually stopped them. “Hey now, Mecora. Where did you find this fella?”
“He escaped from that last group that went by.”
“You realize, of course, that we have to report this to the next troop that comes by.”
“You wouldn’t!”
The elder shrugged. “I’m afraid we have to. The King said so.”
“But he isn’t here, is he? How would ever know that one, single light Vle wasn’t in his flaming camp?! How could you possibly do that to a person?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes you do, so make it!” With that, she took Spreak’s arm, and began to stalk away.
But the elder had the other arm. “We should keep him in a safe place too, Mecora.”
“Elder! I don’t believe you! Let go! He’s not a criminal, so just— let— go!”
“I can’t, Dear. It’s for the good of Kelwome.”
Mecora searched the crowd frantically for friendly faces, Vle who would take her side. But most of those who were even paying attention wore, at best, neutral expressions.
Finally, she happened to see her mother. “Mom! Mom!” Mecora was relieved to see her turn in her direction and approach.
“Mecora, what trouble are you in now?”
“The Elder Stussell wants to keep Spreak locked up until the soldiers get here!”
“Well, that is what the King commanded, dear.”
“Mom! You don’t understand! Spreak isn’t even from Larmania, he’s from Varmac!”
“It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a light Vle, Mecora,” said the Elder. “The King commanded all light Vle to move to the camp, and we’re not to hamper that movement.”
“You’re wrong! He commanded all of his subjects who were light-skinned to the camp. Spreak doesn’t count!”
“Well, that’s a matter we’ll have to leave up to the soldiers who come,” pronounced the Elder. And the tone of his voice meant he considered the matter closed.
Mecorsa didn’t. Seeing a break in the crowd, she bit the arm that held Spreak tightly, and pulled him away. Off they ran, as fast as they could through the stunned shoppers and merchants. Up to the next platform, across to the other tree, down to the original platform, and finally, across the bridge to the monastery tree. All the way, elders chased them.
“What are you doing?” asked Mecora. “We can’t get up there!”
“We don’t have to.” Spreak led the way up the steps, but stopped halfway up. Now, the tree was between them and the pursuing elders. Mecora watched as he looked... deeply at the tree, and sang the oddest song she had ever heard. Then, she realized it was a treesong, only quite a bit different from the one used by the local ‘singers in town. Before her eyes, a hole opened, quickly becoming just big enough for the both of them. They crawled in, and he sang again, closing the bark over the hole. Then, they waited.
They heard the passage of the elders, and some others as well. It seemed to Mecora that they were in there for an hour at least. Finally, Spreak opened a small hole, and looked out. “It’s clear.”
“But, now what?”
“I dunno. We could stay here, I suppose.”
“But there’s no food.”
“Good point.”
“So, why didn’t you use that in Ueal’s house to hide from me?”
“Well, you would have heard me singing.”
“You can’t whisper the ‘song?”
“No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh.” She paused, and thought about their situation. “Well, I bet if we waited until nighttime, I could go home and get some food. Maybe then I can convince Mom to let you hide in our house.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
“But, if anyone found out, you’d get in so much trouble...”
“I don’t care. This whole thing burns forest. If it takes a little bit of trouble to make people wake up and smell the smoke, maybe we can stoke the flames.”
“Why, Mecora, you sound like a poet.”
She didn’t understand that comment. “Why?”
“You used a metaphor. You started with the burning forest, and applied the idea to the situation in the kingdom.”
“Well, yeah, it just kinda made sense—”
“Not many kids our age would think of that so easily. I’d say you have a gift.”
“You mean, like your treesinging? I thought that was something you had to learn to do.”
“It is, and you’re right. I have that gift.”
Mecora realized she was feeling a little strange, alone in the darkness with a boy who had just complimented her... She cleared her throat. “Well, I’d better get going.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She slipped out the hole, and used the cover of darkness to make her way to her house.

In all, it was four days before the very same functionary returned and ‘invited’ him to a meeting with the Voice. The small space was deep in the tree, lit by a light-pipe. It was very simple, as well: only an unornamented table and chairs. The Vle that sat in one was fairly old, but smiled fondly on Hyran when he entered. “I understand you were once a monk.”
“You understand correctly.”
“How can I help you in a way that the old texts cannot?”
“My question— no, my request is something that regards modern times. I have noticed that it seems no light Vle is safe from the King’s Proclamation.”
“Indeed, the King’s power is great. But we mustn’t be concerned with politics.”
“I have heard that said. But let me explain my question: The Great Master mandated personal freedom for all, did he not?”
“Yes.”
“And he has the power to guide our lives, does he not?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone’s lives, and not just those who follow him?”
“Everyone’s, yes.”
“Does he always?”
“No, of course not. He is not the Creator.”
Hyran had always agreed with that last statement. But now, he asked, “But if someone is about to violate one of his mandates, will he guide that someone along a different path?”
“Not necessarily. He may wish us, those who believe in him, to guide that someone for him.”
“Well, he obviously did not guide the King, for our light-skinned brothers are now without any personal freedom.”
“Are you implying, Son, that we ought to ignore our vows and get involved in politics?”
“I am implying that, since the Great Master did not guide the King away from violating His Mandate, it must be up to us to do the guiding.”
“We do not know all the issues involved—”
“There is only one issue here, Voice. Personal Freedom, a Mandate of the Great Master Himself. It is being violated in the grossest fashion ever in the history of Vle-kind, and no one is guiding the King away from his mistake.”
“We still do not know all the issues, Son. It may simply be that it is a test of those who carry on His exalted work. We have taken a vow to remain uninvolved.”
“That seems like supremely twisted logic, to test the vow that constrains a mere five thousand Vle by violating His own Mandate and affecting the lives of fifty thousand innocents.”
The elder Vle spread his arms. “Who are we understand the Great Master?”
“Is that not your job, Voice?”
“Well, yes—”
“Which is why I came to you.”
“Oh, dear. I fear you will need to speak to someone closer to the Great Master than I.”
“When, may I ask?”
“The same time as now: upon availability, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Go with the forgiveness of the Great Master.”
“Go with the Great Master at your side,” Hyran responded, and went out.
The functionary who met him there smiled. “Did yoou find the answer you wanted?”
“No,” replied Hyran with a shake of his head, “I am to see one of the Representative’s Speakers.”
“Ah. I hope he can answer your question.”
“Me too.”

The wait was longer, the meeting space was more elaborate, but the conversation with the Speaker went much the same. The Vle even commented that it seemed as though Hyran had failed the Great Master’s test.
Hyran didn’t think so. “I feel driven to do his will. He is not inconsistent or illogical.”
“What his logic is, only His Representative knows for sure. I will grant you an audience with him.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“However, I feel I must warn you. The Voice and I have been lenient. To ask the Rep to break his vows in full knowledge of those vows is to ask for expulsion from the faith. It shows a certain... insincerity. Do you still wish this audience?”
“Absolutely.”
“Very well. I suggest you word your request carefully.”
More carefully?! How much more careful with his words could he get? “I am grateful for your advice, Speaker. Go with the forgiveness of the Great Master.”
“Go with the Great Master at your side.”
Hyran stepped out, and headed back to his room, wondering just how long he would have to wait this time.
And if he would, at the end of that wait, lose the faith that had made him what he was.

He lay awake a very long time every night, wishing for the Holy Oil to help him dream up an answer to the dilemma. And the answer was there, somewhere, just beyond his reach, tantalizingly close just at the point when true sleep finally came. And then, the next thing he knew, the birds were singing their ever more familiar morning song.
But this night was different. He determined to stay awake until he had the answer. What was it that made him feel so unfulfilled? Was there somewhere else he was supposed to go? Was there something else he could do?
Perhaps.
Perhaps? He didn’t understand where that thought had come from.
Perhaps he could go to Kezantopil and talk to church officials there.
And as ludicrous as that seemed (Why wouldn’t they just throw him out like the abbot had?) he knew there was no reason not to try.
He knew he simply had to try.
He also knew he would need a burning good argument.

Morning came, and Hyran got up with far more purpose than ever before.
The meal-grass he’d planted the previous week was already producing, as it had long ago been bred to do. He collected as much as he could, and packed up again. He spent some time collecting more fruit on the forest floor below, before heading back for the road.
First he headed northwest, to a fork in the road. It was the left one that he chose, which went to Hame, a rich port at the very end of the Gulf of Ladia. With luck, he’d arrive before nightfall, and be able to stay in the church there.
It wasn’t long after he chose that road that he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look, and saw a thin young Vle walking more quickly than he.
The younger Vle noticed Hyran’s glance, and said, “Hello there, fellow traveler! Mind if I walk with you for a while?”
Hyran responded with a shrug. “If you wish. I would like to make Hame today.”
“Me too, me too. I hope to make Kezantopil eventually.”
“I suggest you eat something, then!”
The thin Vle chuckled. “Of course, of course. I’ve been depending on the generosity of other travelers, but I find that times must be too hard for anyone to spare a crumb.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. By the way, my name is...” He paused before saying, “Hyran.” Why should he continue to use the name he chose at the monastery? Perhaps because he was still in the Great Master’s service.
“Valph’s my name. Nice to meet you,” replied the younger.
“Well, I’ll be stopping for the midday meal soon. I’m just waiting for the sun to be a little higher. I ought to be able to spare some meal-grain.”
“Meal-grain? Are you on a pilgrimage, too?”
“You might say that. However, I don’t see any reason to starve myself along the way.”
“Well, going hungry like this really clears the mind, let me tell ya. Y’see, I figured you for a pilgrim because of your robe. It looks like a monk’s robe, but I know that monks aren’t allowed out of the monastery except in the Deschule season, so...”
“You are an astute one, Valph. I was a monk, up until two weeks ago.”
“It’s possible to quit? I thought it was a life-long service.”
“Theoretically, yes. But you have to admit that being a monk is not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea. They will let you out if it’s clear that you fit into that category.”
“Like you?”
“Hmmm, I haven’t yet figured that one out. So I assume you hope to enter the service of the Great Master?”
“Nope. I no longer believe in him. As a deity, that is.”
“Really? I didn’t realize there was anyone else to be a pilgrim to.”
“It’s not a who, but a what. Or, more precisely, a concept, or a feeling. It’s hard to say, really. I’m a pilgrim to Love.”
“Love? They’ve made a religion out of love?”
“Sure! Let me tell you all about it. We call ourselves Exians....”

The sun had just dropped underneath the trees when they arrived at Hame. It was easily one of the biggest cities Hyran had ever been to, comprised of five levels, plus the ground, around no less than ten trees! If he remembered correctly, the church was on the third level of tree F.
“Well, Valph,” he said, “I’ll hopefully be sleeping in a church this evening. I’m sorry they won’t invite you in.”
“No problem. There are plenty of Exians here. Shall we continue to Kezantopil together?”
“Sure. But surely you don’t expect to convert anyone there.”
Valph shrugged. “Just because I don’t take the Great Master as a deity doesn’t mean I can’t learn more about his wisdom.”
“Interesting. If he’s not a deity, how did he get to be so wise?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, yes it does, but— Oh, it’s getting dark. Let’s meet tomorrow morning. At the base of tree H? If I remember right, it’s the one by the road south.”
“Agreed.”
They parted, and Hyran went off to find the church. It was right where he remembered it, though some modifications had been made. Apparently, membership had shrunk, such that they didn’t need nearly as large a space as before.
He got a place to sleep and some food, and rested deeply from his long walk.

The next morning, they met on schedule, and continued on their way, now headed south along the long peninsula.
“Didn’t that city seem awfully quiet?” asked Hyran.
Valph shook his head. “No! It positively bustled, compared to any place I’ve been before. Why, do you think so?”
“Absolutely. I have been there before, a long time ago, and it was much busier then.”
“Because the light Vle are gone now, right?”
“Exactly.”
“I wasn’t aware light Vle had ever been there. Wow. If so, then that must really have been a busy port.”
“It still is, but there are fewer people now to do the same work.”
“What a totally unloving thing for a King to do to his subjects. I can’t imagine why he’d want to do such a thing. And why hasn’t anyone tried to stop it? Surely the Church—”
“Could change the King’s mind, yes, I agree completely. I’ve met a number of people who think so, but, you see, such a point of view does not get you far in a monastery, much less in the priesthood.”
“Whoa, I forgot about that, the non-involvement thing.”
“But I hope to change that.” Hyran realized that that hope had grown quite a bit since leaving.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
The forest they passed through seemed empty, as empty as the area around Kelwome— for the same reason, of course. That isn’t to say that there weren’t Vle, merely that there weren’t many of them.
Incredibly, an army passed them on their way south. Were they headed into war? “Excuse me,” Hyran asked one of the passing soldiers, “could you tell me where you are going?”
The soldier moved his horse out of postition and slowed his pace. “We are going to fortify the port of Jisac. The light Vle might attack it any day now.”
“In defense of their kin?”
“Yeah, the dirty rats. They don’t seem to understand just how they’ve ruined our kingdom.”
“Indeed. And how, pray tell, have they done that?”
“Oh, with their mine strikes, their bank strikes, and burning boats in ports around the country, they tried to put our economy in a noose! And they’ve even infiltrated our government with spies, too.”
“I see.” Hyran didn’t believe it, but nodded. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“At your service, Father.” The soldier set his horse to a trot to catch up and get back in position.
Hyran threw up his arms. “Ridiculous. Why should these allegations surface all of a sudden, after all this peace?”
“I don’t know.” They fell into silence and kept walking.
More than once, they also passed groups of light Vle headed north, prodded by a troop of soldiers behind them. It was one thing to watch them from above, detached by the two- or three-canopy distance, but on the ground, seeing the faces head on really plucked the heart strings. The somber expressions were uniform, even on the smallest children. No one spoke, seeming to concentrate on every footstep.
Hyran almost cried out, but he didn’t really know what words there were to cry. If only the Representative himself could be there at that moment, to see the cruelty caused by the flaming stupid non-involvement edict... [Caused? not by us, but the King...] Hyran somehow knew that would be exactly what the Rep would say. And yet he’d have to try. He knew he had to.
The ‘parade’ passed, but the pall remained. Hyran felt there was nothing to say; he could see on Valph’s face the same unwillingness to say anything. Others on the road wore the same expression. If the King could see this, too... But of course he never would, locked as he always was in the palace.
“I hope I never see that again,” said Valph, but of course they passed four more caravans in their week-long walk to Kezantopil.
But Hyran had trouble just sitting around, so he took rides on one of the city’s many seated chariots to do some sightseeing in the city he’d only read (and dreamed) about. To his surprise, as was the case for everywhere else in light-Vle areas, the city was quiet and subdued. Empty spaces abounded, and there wasn’t a light-skinned face anywhere.
Not even the Great Master’s holiest city in all the world was above a mere King’s Proclamation?! It made Hyran despair somewhat. If the sight of soldiers leading shocked priests away from the seclusion that was Kezantopil didn’t make The Rep say something, what in the world could he, a mere ex-monk (emphasis on the ex) say to change that?

Monk

The forest was a far more forbidding place on the ground, a feeling that Hyran had never succeeded in getting rid of as he grew up. The trees were immensely bigger than a Vle, and all the more so when viewed from the base. But such a feeling was irrational. After all, the trees had given so much to the Vle.
It already seemed as though the walk had taken forever, and it still seemed he had forever to go. It was impossible to see very far in the forest, and the road of course could not simply go straight through. Instead it wound from tree to tree, little more than dirt where there would otherwise be plants. He remembered that his old house had been some distance off the road to the north, and the tree to look for had a simple arrow ‘sung into it. However, any path there might have been was almost certainly obliterated by now.
Eventually, the road met the one from Sakes, the capital of Varabia, and Hyran continued toward Dronac. This road, of course was much busier, meaning that he actually saw other travelers on the road. The occasional merchant’s coach passed, and a messenger on a horse at full gallop, plus the odd traveler going at a much more relaxed pace. A few of the latter actually slowed further to talk to him.
The second one that stopped was full of news. “The King’s proclamation has really put this nation in jeopardy,” said the mounted Vle, who had introduced himself as Intosh. He was dressed fairly well, in the latest metallic colors. A merchant, perhaps, or a banker.
“Oh? Economically, or—”
“That, and there are rumors of armies massing outside our borders.”
“Rumors?” asked Hyran skeptically.
“Yes, I realize one cannot always believe every rumor, but this is one that seems to be confirmed by every merchant and traveler coming out of A’peine.”
“A’peine? I would have expected Varmacia to attack first, if anyone. Are they no longer the strongest of our neighbors?”
“Well... Yes, I suppose you could say that. A’peine’s not far behind, however, and remember those of Karel Island.”
“Yes, of course.” Oh, dear. War. Would that be enough to make the Representative speak against the King? “Does anyone have any idea how long until the battle begins, if it does?”
“No. Oh, I’ve heard everything between a tomorrow and next month, but I’m reasonably sure that if they are massing, it’s a bluff to make our great King let the light Vle go.”
“You have given me much to think about, Intosh. I should not presume to hinder your way further.”
“Oh, nonsense, it’s always a pleasure talking to a fellow traveler. However, I do have some distance yet before I reach the next town. Happy travels!”
“Indeed, the same for you,” Hyran replied, and the mounted Vle spurred his horse to a trot.
War?....

Sure enough, the brilliant orange arrow was still on the tree, and Hyran stopped. As he remembered, his house was on the fourth tree in, but now it was a matter of getting there through the thick underbrush. The point where the path had begun was now nothing more than a widening in the road, where more than a few travelers had left signs of having overnighted. Beyond that, there did seem to be a section where the vegetation was shorter and not so thick, but that could have been Hyran’s imagination.
Imagination or not, he pushed his way in. Each step was an effort, and he had to keep his hands up in front of his face. On and on he pushed, reaching the second tree.... then the third, and finally the fourth. He looked up, and found the remains of the house, even more delapidated now than when he had returned thirty years before. It was even an effort to begin the climb up, since many of the steps were now gone. They simply went straight up the tree like a ladder, and on more than one occasion, Hyran had a three-rung space to cross.
Finally, he made it to the small platform in front of the house, which had a few holes. Those would have to be patched, of course; for the moment, he went on into the house itself.
It was musty inside, and the smell of sap was thick. Given time, a tree would always try to reclaim what it had lost. Only continuous occupation could prevent it it. Now, however, all of the surfaces were rougher, and extended from where they had been. Hyran often had to duck, and the overall floorspace was smaller, but the one room would still serve... once he got a treesinger to deal with the floor and ceiling, that is. His own skills were too rusty from disuse.
He went back out, to check the garden. The soil had been stubbornly unproductive before, a dry, red color that indicated the lack of any decayed matter at all.
Now, however, it seemed a few generations of hardy plants had taken over and made it fertile again. There were still a few insect-catchers, but the rest were tall grasses and spiny weeds. They would all have to go, of course.
But that could wait. He was too tired to do anything just yet.

The birds that woke him the next morning sang a strange song, a familiar song. The species in that part of the country were somewhat different than near the monastery, and it was strange to hear them now after so many years of being away.
He got up and dug in his bag for breakfast, thinking about what he needed to do: Till the garden, patch the platform, replace some ladder rungs, collect whatever fruits might be growing below, and maybe try his luck at treesinging to make more headroom. Otherwise, it would be a long walk to the nearest town. (Would Jabbro even still be alive? Or perhaps his son...)
One by one, he tackled the chores. However, it all took much longer than he had expected. In fact, it was a week before the reconstruction projects were finished, and he was gratified that he could still at least ‘sing a floor and ceiling back to flatness.
But as engaging as the work was, he still felt something was wrong. He felt as if he’d abandoned someone, or something. But that wasn’t true! He had stood up for what he’d believed, and the monastery had abandoned him. The fate of the nation was now out of his hands.
And yet the twinge of guilt remained. All of his chores seemed pointless. They preserved life, but were so base in comparison to the things that were going on beyond his little section of the Great Forest. This was very much how he had lived the last thirty years— absorbed only in the immediate interests of the monastery, as grandly spiritual as they were. And that had been enough, because they were of course so much more important than anything else.
Perhaps that was what he was missing.