At the tiny port of Dirian a day later, there was exactly one merchant ship, its mast rising far higher than any structure on land. Out near the horizon were some other, larger ships with a design that was recognizably different even at that distance. Human ships, guessed Hyran; if he was right then the merchant ship would be safe....?
That was, if its captain would be willing to make the trip, and for free. The group could hardly pay for such risk with friendship bracelets.
They went to the ship first, the “Singing Sail”. Though he wasn’t familiar with ships at all, it impressed him. It had been built (not ‘sung, which surprised him; but then trees have to be alive to be ‘sung) of planks, with intricate carvings on the railings and front of the boat. Didn’t the front have a special name...?
After a few unsuccessful attemps at getting someone to appear on deck, they decided to go up to the town. The decks were actually busy, much busier than the other towns had been, which was surprising since the port itself was so empty. A slight majority of those on the deck were human, quite a few of whom were losing the contents of their stomachs over the railing. Flann laughed. “I’m hearing a lot of complaining about heights,” he said. “You can tell the lookouts apart from the crowd!”
The town had five pubs, which were about a third of the ‘business’ district. Hyran wasn’t sure he wanted to know what other services were provided in the other places. And very few of the group were overly willing to enter the pubs to find the captain. “Oh, come now, don’t tell me none of you have been in a pub before.”
“Well, sure,” said Valph, “but we’ve renounced that life now. It’s part of non-loving living. You yourself stopped visiting such places.”
“Sure, but it’s not the place that makes the loving stop, but the living, right? Besides, we’re on a mission! So, you three take the first one we saw, you three the next, and so on. Is that so hard?”
They shrugged their assent. Hyran would have given anything for a verbal response for a change. Sometimes he thought that these Exians followed too well. What had happened to the fire he’d seen when he first met them? He decided to ask Valph later. “We’ll meet back here at this spot. If you find him, send just one of your group to report and bring us to the right place. Now, go.” And they went, moving carefully, lovingly through an unappreciative crowd to their assigned pubs.
The fourth pub they found in town was a place its sign identified as “The Lion’s Barrel.” Or, perhaps “Keg” was a better word, since the Lion was shown pounding in a spigot. The smell of fermented grain tickled his nose as he and two others entered; the place was noisy with the sound of conversation, but it was only mid-afternoon, so there was no entertainment going on. No one paid them any attention as they walked over to the counter. A burly Vlin was tending it, but she didn’t seem nearly as rushed as some of the other employees. “What is it you want to know? Or, maybe you’re looking for something.”
“Are we that obvious?” Hyran said with a wry smile.
“Monks don’t come in for drinks, and neither do you Love freaks. Figure you want something else. But don’t ask me about a human. They all look the same to me.”
“We’re looking for the captain of the “Singing Sail.”
“Monkie, I haven’t seen an Vle captain in weeks. The humans have blockaded the harbor. Ships can leave, but not enter.”
“But the Singing Sail is Vle, isn’t it?”
“Sounds like an Vle name. Look, for all I know, the captain left her behind and went on another ship, or maybe he is still around. Either way, he ain’t been in here.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Sure. Come again when you can stick around and partake.”
“Perhaps so.” Hyran led his companions out onto the deck again. “Well, let’s see if anyone else has had any success.” The group was already reforming at the appointed spot. But Valph and a few others didn’t return. Finally, another of their group approached. “Found him, Hyran. He’s at the Thaleberry Bush.”
“Thank you. Lead on.” Leaving the others behind, Hyran followed the Vle to a relatively upscale pub. The façade was painted a brilliant blue, and inside most of the surfaces had been laminated. Flann and Valph stood at a table by the back wall, discussing- almost pleading, it appeared, with a mid-sized dark Vle with graying hair.
The captain rolled his eyes at Hyran’s approach. “Don’t even waste your breath, I’ve already said no. I swear, as nice as the Humans are, I wish they’d never given us their religion.”
“Captain,” said Hyran, “Are you a religious man?”
“I believe in the Great Master, yes. But my church is out there—” he pointed seaward— “on the Great Blue.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Hyran, lately of the Kelwome monastery.”
“You were a monk? I thought the vows were for life.”
“Mostly. But I couldn’t live with the political non-interference edict. They kicked me out of my religion because of my mission: I am going to tell the King to reverse his Proclamation, and I need your help to do it.”
The captain raised his brows. “You don’t belong to this Exian cult then, do you?”
“No, we’re just traveling together. They hope to raise a movement against the Proclamation.”
“Pfft! Good luck! What makes you think you even have a chance?”
“Who cares about chances? We have to do what our hearts insist we do.”
“Lots of people live perfectly good lives without following their hearts. Why can’t you?”
“Are you one of those people?”
“No,” the captain admitted, “I’m one of the lucky ones.”
Hyran smiled. “We may call ourselves lucky later, but for the moment we’re just not going to give up. Do you want us to just steal your ship?
The captain exploded in laughter. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard! So, how many of you are there?”
“Seventeen.”
“I’m gonna need payment, or you’ll at least need to bring more than enough food for your whole group. It’ll be a two day trip.”
Hyran glanced at Valph, who nodded. “We can handle that.”
“Then you’ve got yourselves a deal. You’re now officially guests of Captain Jurik on the Singing Sail.” With that, he lightly punched Hyran’s shoulder.
Hyran was quick to respond likewise. Then, he smiled wryly. “So, do the sails actually sing?”
Jurik puffed up with pride. “If the winds are right, you’ll hear it for yourself, Hyran!”

The breeze was strong off the land, and the choppy water rocked the ship gently. The group of Exians and Hyran spread across the deck, trying to find good places to stand without getting in the way. The rope was untied from the dock, and the sails went up, going taut as they caught the wind. Hyran felt exhilarated, though he tried not to show it lest he seem too much like a treelubber. But the exhilaration won.
“Ah, ha ha! Let the wind fill your sails, you loveydoveys! It’s always great to get out to sea!”
Hyran smiled at the Captain and did as he was commanded with a deep breath of marine air. In three days their trek would begin again; in the meantime, they could relax.
Provided they could all keep their lunch down.

Monk

The peninsula narrowed as the raucous group headed north, and in the litter, Hyran had time to ponder. How far had the humans gotten? Were their forces on the mainland yet? Would the Exians be allowed through the front lines?
They began to see more and more troops— on the horizon, on the road, moving across fields, breaking camp. Finally, they were stopped at a checkpoint.
Valph’s friend— was Flann his name?— greeted the 4 soldiers in Human, and their faces registered what Hyran figured was surprise. All the Vle looked expectantly at the soldiers; no one provided a translation. A Human of higher rank joined the two, and then dismissed the lesser. The conversation seemed respectful enough, in a tone that reminded Hyran of his conversations with his mentor. But the jarring sounds of the Human language shattered that pleasant memory quickly.
Then the tone changed, as did the Human’s stance. He directed questions, the Vle delivered answers, as if in a quiz. After ten such exchanges, the Human fell silent. And, finally, he said in passable elvish: “Vrry will, yo c’n gau.”
That one sentence energized the troupe. Hyran’s carriers handed him to two others and they went on by.... with one of the humans tagging along. A few broke out into song, and others hummed totally different tunes.
But Hyran felt he had to know just what all was said. “So, what was that all about?” he asked Flann when he was near enough.
“Well, at first we were just bantering— I was trying to convince him to let us through, considering who we were, and our mission, and our wounded—” the Vle indicated Hyran— “and how peaceful we were and that we would take vows of honor not to tell the military there anything the Humans did... And he countered with some very good reasons why he shouldn’t— couldn’t— let us go. But finally, he quizzed me on Exian theology. I passed his test.”
“Why are we so lucky that we should keep running into Exian captains?”
“This Human was a lieutenant.”
“Whatever.”
“I don’t know. It’s a mystery.”
“Well, I for one see the Great Master’s hand at work here.”
Flann didn’t reply. Inwardly, Hyran smiled as the young Vle chewed that one over in his mind. As peaceful and wonderful this Exian thing may be, it fell short in answering some of life’s mysteries. Without a Creator or Great Master, who was there to credit for the hand dealt by fate?
Hyran looked over at the Human, whose face was hard, eyes pointed straight down the road. “Is he Exian?”
“There’s no way of knowing. Soldiers are not allowed to show their religion, except maybe in diplomatic situations. Have you noticed that neither the captain nor the lieutenant crossed themselves even when I did?”
With a little surprise, Hyran realized that Flann was right.
“In either case, it doesn’t matter. The soldier has his orders. He’ll convey the lieutenant’s guarantee of free passage off the peninsula as long as we don’t meet an soldier of higher rank.”
“Is ‘Lieutenant’ a high rank?” Hyran’s mouth almost refused to wrap itself around the odd word.
“I don’t think so— He didn’t have very much decoration on his uniform. Anyway, the Lieutenant we met assured me that the guarantee will at least get us through to a Human of higher rank.”
“Hmm.” Hyran didn’t feel very reassured, but it was another step in the right direction.

For two days they walked, staying in quiet, inactive towns. The Humans, the group found, provided the townspeople with a lot; and the people themselves didn’t seem to feel much like working, other than what absolutely had to be done.
Hyran had never seen a more depressing peace. In fact, he’d never dreamed that peace could be depressing.
Finally, they were stopped by a roving patrol on horseback on the road. Their soldier companion spoke with them in a conversational tone, and one of the patrol members pointed along a slightly different path. Then, he rode at a gallop in the same direction.
Their companion spoke to Flann, who translated: “The road ahead is closed. Ahead lies a battlefield, where intense fighting continues. The only possible way through would be with a phalanx of protection, and the Lieutenant Colonel is not likely to grant such a dubious maneuver. Nonetheless, we are invited to meet him personally at his tent headquarters.”
“And then what?” asked a Vle.
Flynn had a look that said ‘don’t ask me’; Valph seemed to be about to say something, but remained silent.
[TRUST...]
“The Great Master will provide,” said Hyran. He knew the others would not accept such a pronouncement as true, but he himself felt it was true, and that was what mattered.
Valph eyed him. “I hope you’re right, Hyran. By Love, I hope you’re right.”

The Lieutenant Colonel showed no emotion on his face, only a steel composure. His voice, however, spoke otherwise, sounding short and clipped. Through Flann, he said, “Your little bunch has provided me with a little dilemma. I’ve got ten thousand men to command here and now you Vle come marching up like a bunch of neophyte troubadours asking to just walk through a battle field and expect to come through unscathed. Lemme tell you people something: The enemy archers can’t see what’s in your hearts, they just see figures walking on a field. So they shoot. Not only that, there’s something spooky going on up there. For the last few days everyone in sight of the battle has been feeling drained, like they haven’t slept for days. I can’t allow anyone to go through that, and I won’t. You’ll just have to wait it out like everyone else.”
That was odd. The soldiers felt drained? “Sir, you said your soldiers felt drained only in sight of the battle?”
The lieutenant turned his steel gaze on Hyran after he heard the translation. “Yes.”
“And the feeling goes away when the person walks behind a hill, or a tree?”
“Somewhat. I find my men have to sleep a day in order to return to normal. Why, do you know something?”
Hyran almost said yes, before he decided he didn’t, after all, want to betray his country. “No, sir, just something I’ve heard about before. But please, you have got to help us get through! I know we can change King Lajot’s mind if we could just get to him.”
“Sorry, mister, you’ll have to come up with something yourself.”
There had to be a way! The Great Master would provide, he’d said so... “What if we took a ship and went around?”
“We’ve tried that, of course. They just shoot at us with stolen cannons. It’s impossible to make a landing anywhere that would make a difference.”
“Well, maybe we can get through on a merchant ship.”
“And where are you going to find a merchant who is willing to put his ship at risk like that?”
Hyran shrugged. He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. He had a plan, and it was time to put the plan in motion. First step: Getting out of the darn gurney. “Which coast would you say is safer, Sir?”
“The west. The island Vle are eating up big chunks of coast to the east- or at least were, until this draining feeling came along. I hear they’ve got it too, and they have no hills to go behind over there.”
“The west it is then. Shall we, my friends?”
The assent was silent, as if to say, is there anything better?

As they entered the chambers the king went to his desk and leaned his girth against it. Before he could ask the obvious question, Taréz decided to answer it.
“I’m here because Gardric ordered me here.” He wasn’t surprised to see his father’s eybrows shoot up. “His presumption aside, we’ve been winning battles. On my front, their forces were only half-serious. However, all the rest of the divisions are winning against the odds. Frankly, it’s fishy. Rather than arguing with him, I took the opportunity to leave a very unchallenging situation. Now, I think I ought to try to find out what it is that they have that I didn’t.”
“Didn’t?”
His father had caught his use of the past tense. “Reports since my departure indicate that, despite a drastically reduced force—”
“How drastic?”
“They were eight hundred when I left. Gardic sent a new second-in-command, who promptly sent half of them away to the other fronts.”
“Any reduction in the light force?”
“No, but now that I’m gone, my division is winning much more handily. I’m not a bad commander, Father.”
“No, Gardric has always had the greatest praise for you. It seems he’s hiding something, but why? It isn’t like him.”
“I don’t know. Has he reported in recently?”
The king seemed pensive a moment. “No. With all the financial trouble and recent excitement, I hadn’t thought of that. He hasn’t. Get on it, Taréz. If Gardric feels he has to hide something from us, we might have to stop him.”
“Even if it’s winning battles?”
“In a war we shouldn’t be fighting? Definitely. My image is already tarnished for future historians, but I won’t make it any worse.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Father.”
“Me, too,” the elder Vle sighed.
The pigeonkeeper popped in just then. “Message for you, Sire.”
“You couldn’t just pass it on?” asked Taréz as he went to the door.
“No, Sire, everyone else is busy getting ready for the ball this week.”
“The ball!” exclaimed Taréz. “I’d actually forgotten! That might be a good thing.” He stopped at arm’s length and reached for the scroll in the pigeonkeeper’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, Pigeonkeeper.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” He turned and left, still leaving a whiff of pigeon in his wake.
“What do you mean, it’s a good thing?”
“Better to concentrate on the government thing, right, and leave the party planning to everyone else?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Still, you know how I look forward to these events. Especially now that things are looking up. What does it say?”
Taréz opened the scroll and read it aloud.

Your Majesty,
This is to report four victories on the eastern front. The Varmacian forces gave ground and the front is now a day’s march east of The Twin Lakes. I now personally will turn my attention to the south. We’re holding against the humans at the Isthmus of Ladelan, but I now believe we can start pushing them back. The Varabians are doing very well against the islander forces and I expect our border there to be restored sometime next week. On that good news, enjoy your ball!
Gardric

“The forces at the isthmus are as thinly stretched as everywhere else, so I think we can assume he’s using his secret weapon there, too,” added Taréz.
“When Gardric finds something that works, he applies it in every way possible. Leave tomorrow.”
“Yes, Father.”

Taréz smoothly swung himself onto the horse. “I can’t say when I’ll be back.”
“Just as long as your father knows where you’re going,” joked the horsemaster. “Just out for some fresh air?”
“No, a bit more than that. Good day, Intret.”
“Good day, Your Highness.”

Taréz considered heading east, back to the battlefield he’d left, but the lack of cover disqualified that option. So, he headed directly south to the peninsula.
Three days later, he arrived at Ginnel, which was about as close he wanted to be on horseback. The town had very few people left in it, and those who stayed were very reserved. Taréz decided to be just as reserved, lest he draw attention to himself. Some soldiers walked the streets, and he didn’t really care to be recognized.
A coin in a stablehand’s palm helped ensure good care for his horse— the horsemaster wouldn’t have it otherwise. He hefted the pack onto his own back, and headed south once more.
It wasn’t long before the clangs and shouts of war could be heard. That meant that if any scouts were going to see his approach, they would have already. He had no illusions that the camouflage was a guarantee against that.
He unsheathed his sword and continued closer. In the dense undergrowth, there was no telling who he’d run into and when. Somewhere ahead was a secret weapon. Two Larmanian troops charged past him from behind, hardly giving him notice. Then, a human stumbled by. At sight of Taréz, his eyes widened, and he would have fallen if Taréz hadn’t caught him. “Are you wounded?”
“No, no,” the soldier murmured. “Just... very, very tired. Must... go on...”
But it was clear the soldier was not going to go on. Taréz lay him down and moved on. The pattern continued— Vle he met were energetic and fighting with great (verve), but the humans appeared as if they had been fighting constantly for a week.
The forest darkened, and the sounds of war decreased. Now, the troops he saw heade the opposite direction, just as energetic as ever. Taréz relaxed against a small tree, and waited until no more troops came by before pitching his tent and calling it a night.

Morning brought a slightly different scheme. Slightly before dawn, a human poked his head into Taréz’s tent. He met a dark fist for his trouble. Taréz stepped out, sword drawn, and made quick work of the soldiers. But these humans had been different than the ones he met the day before: fresh and ready for battle. Only skill won the moment. As they all lay unconscious around his tent, he considered. Though it was technically his duty to kill them, he didn’t really feel like he was part of the war. After all, he was prince. He could decide that, couldn’t he?
Not that it mattered. Any Larmanian soldier who found them here would end their lives. Still, Taréz gave them a fighting chance, and packed up his camp.
Humans he met later that hour were progressively less energetic, much more quickly than would be expected of normal battle. By the time sunlight could be seen shining through the treetops, the mystery effect had run its course. But the dark Vle he met seemed to be gaining in strength.
Taréz quickened his survey of the battlefield. The answer had to be here, somewhere!

On the third day of the trip, a message from the battlefield he’d left caught up to his carriage. Soon after he’d left, Birg’s new second in command had arrived, an assistant in tow. They carried orders to send one hundred of the soldiers to each of the four other fronts in the kingdom. Nothing else had changed, but the light Vle now seemed to be utterly without spirit. Where before there had been just three or four deaths per encounter, on average, now there were as many as fifty. And that seemed to enrage them, for the attacks were now coming every day.
That struck Taréz as somehow odd.
He arrived at the camp the next day. Yis was there as usual, but not in the overlook. Taréz looked down on the camp, and picked him out easily. Wearing his robes of state (though without the royal thale weave) he stood out even among the colorful clothes of his kin.
“Hello, Sire. You received my message.”
“No, actually, I was just passing through. It looks good.”
“In fact, it’s finished. The camp meets all promises and requirements. Everyone has a roof to sleep under and there is adequate space within the compound.” Taréz could see that Yis had much to be happy about- that is, if anyone could be happy in such a situation. The two story buildings below had shake roofs and closable windows; it was not possible to see the entire perimeter. There was commerce and production going on below, a huge self-sufficient city that was now second only in population to Kezantopil.
“Any food shortages?”
“Right now, no. But we’re not getting a fair trade on our finished goods. If it continues...”
“I’ll get on it.”
“I know you will.”
Usually, such confidence was a source of pride. Not in this case.
“Tell me about daily life here...”

Taréz woke and finished his journey the next morning. There were numerous coaches already at the palace, those of all the King’s advisors. Taréz debated whether or not he ought to join the meeting.
But the answer was no: as he entered the hallway to the council room, the doors opened and all the advisors poured out. They were so intent on their debate that they hardly acknowldged the prince’s presence. He let it pass.
One Vle was left behind as the King headed toward his quarters. “Kreylek, what did you say?” asked the prince.
“I said that we ought to contract with trolls to mine our cobilum.”
“Ah, that would do it. Let me in.”
“Okay. Across the country, mines are still. If the workers are light, they’re in camp; if they are dark, they’re on the battlefield. But we desperately need the miners to get the metal out of the ground.”
“And since the humans and dwarves have attacked us, we have to choose the trolls, is that it?”
“Well, yes, but there’s more.”
“And why cobilum? It just corrodes, doesn’t it?”
“Precisely my point. The trolls have a process to harden it. They use it all the time! And here we have all these reserves just waiting for us to use!”
“But why would the trolls come all the way into Larmania to mine for us?”
“Because, the trolls don’t have enough mines to employ their miners.”
Kreylek had obviously thought this out, but there was one last question. “And how are we supposed to pay them?”
“With the ore they mine. And we’ll send along more to pay for the weapons they make for us.”
“That’s a rather intensive pay. Especially given our cool relations. What guarantee do we have that they won’t use their cobilum to attack us?”
“Gardric. Especially considering his recent success. Besides, they just might attack the dwarves, and occupy them enough for us to regain our losses. Well, I’m no military expert—”
“But what you say makes sense.” Gardric was a deterrent before, and if he won this war, he’s be even more of a deterrent. If only Taréz didn’t have his misgivings. “Is your plan dead? It didn’t see you sold the other advisors on the plan.”
“No, His Majesty didn’t end the meeting. It’s merely adjourned for lunch.”
The sound of a departing carriage made its way through the window, so Taréz went to take a look. “You could be wrong. ‘His Majesty’ is leaving.”
“Oh, dear, maybe I made a larger error than I thought.”
A chuckle came from behind them, and the two Vle turned to see Stecky coming up the steps. “Rest easy, Minister Kreylek. The King received news that the camp is finished, and is headed to take a look.”
It was Taréz’s turn to chuckle. “I just came from there today. It is remarkable." But felt less light as he said, "It will be interesting to see how the historians will remember it.”
No one replied to that.

The advisors returned after the lunch hour, with Taréz joining them. The King was a half hour late, and Taréz absorbed as much of the chatter as he could for his father. He’d want to know what was said in the unstructured chatter, but as decor demanded, they immediately fell silent when he entered the room. Taréz resolved to remember to stop at the door a moment before coming in when he would be King.
“Right then,“ began the King. “Give me a solid, unrefutable, factual reason we should not contract with the trolls.”
There were a few false starts, but most of those who talked realized mid-stream that they were merely repeating prejudices- their dirtiness, their lack of etiquette, their lack of culture...
“Very well. Reasons the trolls would want to deal with us?”
“They need cobilum.”
“They need work.”
“They need weapons.”
“What do they need weapons for? If they have weapons will they start fighting us like the rest of the world?”
“No,” said Taréz, “They’ll start fighting the dwarves.”
His father appeared taken aback. “Taréz! What are you— never mind, we’ll discuss it later. Go on about the dwarves.”
“The dwarves have been taking holdings along their border with the trolls, places where they can hide war machines, and extending the length of their border with us.”
“Have the trolls done anything about it?”
“No. Our intelligence says they are preserving their weapons as much as they can. The locations are hard to attack and not very large.”
“Still, it must bother them.”
“Yes, they want to retaliate, especially while the dwarves are engaged with us.”
Premet cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, but does anyone know just how we’re going to set up the agreement? We may have decided to just ignore centuries of wisdom in dealing with those creatures, but we’re going to have to be careful in making our plans.”
“I’ve already asked the chamberlain— er, acting chamberlain— to find a translator for us,” Kreylek replied. “Through him we can probably find a government official who can handle everything.”
“How do we know we can trust that troll, whoever he may turn out to be?” asked Premet.
“Intelligence, how else?”
Tarez shook his head. “We can send spies anywhere as long as there’s forest, but it’s a totally different matter to disguise someone as a troll!”
The King apparently decided that it was time to be in charge again. “Well, if everyone knows what their part in this will be, we might as well adjourn. Until—”
“E- excuse me, Y-your Majesty?”
“Yes, Kreylek?”
“I thought you might like to hear the good news from the banks.”
“Good news? Go on.”
“The budget in the last month balanced perfectly. We can’t make up the deficit from the last months, but we’re balanced.”
“How?!”
“No miners, no one to pay. Taxes from agriculture have begun to come in, and there are more profits from the camp than there are expenses.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, Sire. The light Vle have proven very industrious.”
“Well, I guess we can all breathe easier from that news. Does anyone have anything they want to add?”
There was no response, so the King adjourned the meeting for good. “Taréz, let’s go to my chambers.”

Prince

It was a few days before the sentries cried alarm again, as if the catapult incident had demoralized the light Vle a bit. But they apparently made up for that, because the message the sentries sent was that a large part of their force was charging toward the dark Vle camp. It didn’t take long for Taréz’s forces to ready themselves, but they paused on the crest of the hill to await the prince’s instructions.
“Engage them as usual,” he ordered, “but do not pass the lowest point of the vale! Now GO!”
With a yell, the troops hefted their swords and shields and ran out to meet the approaching force. Taréz watched from the crest, and could see that the light Vle force was not as enthusiastic as their approach had made them appear. Between the lights’ drawing strategy and the darks’ invisible fence, the battle line soon drew out into a long line along the bottom of the gully. Taréz would have laughed at how ludicrous the sight was, if some of his troops weren’t dying.
It became a contest of wills- who would drop the battle first? Slowly, light Vle who were backing away from the line stopped coming back to try again. That left a bigger job for those who stayed, and the desertion of the battle line accelerated.
In less than four hours, the battle was over.

Something different arrived the very next day: Good news! Lord Hilonia reported that Gardric’s plan had been brilliant. The new Varabian force was split and brought to the northern front by night so the enemy, a force of Pulinians and Kamileans, wouldn’t know of their arrival. Apparently, Hilonia’s forces were still outnumbered (there were 9,000 of the enemy), but the element of surprise and Gardric’s ingenious tactics won the day.
Taréz the military student wanted desperately to learn what those ‘ingenious tactics’ were.

Over the course of that week, the light Vle made three more attacks just like the last one, with exactly the same short lived effect. Taréz didn’t even bother to change the orders he’d given the first time around, though he did watch just in case something new came up.
Nothing did.
The futility of it all sagged on him; he could only wonder how sagged the light Vle were feeling as he slouched in the cut-wood general’s chair.
Meanwhile, more reports came in from the other fronts about how victorious Gardric was. Every one expressed some wonder at a miraculous win. What was the Chief’s secret?
Finally, a message in Gardric’s own script arrived.
“Your Highness,
I commend you on your victory against the catapult. A little heavy on material resources, but very effective. Given the light Vle’ pattern, however, and our victories, I see no reason to keep you out on the battlefield. This message transfers you to duty at the castle, and promotes Lieutenant Commander Birg to General. Please express my congratulations to him. I’m sure you found him to be an excellent second. I will be sending a replacement for his post.
Again, congratulations! I hope to see you in one month’s time.”
So, Gardric expected to win the war in just one month. The odds just didn’t support it, however.
Next, Taréz turned his attention to the new orders. It was the King who had placed him here, an order which superseded the Chief’s. Here, now, was essentially a countermand to the royal order. Thus, the prince had every right to refuse and report the Chief’s presumption.
Or, maybe duty at the castle would actually be more interesting than this little farce.
“Birg, new orders.”
“Yes, Sire? From the chief, Sire?”
“Indeed. I am to resume my duty at the castle. He also has promoted you to general.”
Birg appeared astonished. “That is an honor, Sire.”
“It is. It means you will be in charge of this battlefield. Gardic will be sending a second-in-command for you.”
“When do you plan to leave, then, Sire?”
“Well, I see no reason to dawdle long. And I might as well do it in style this time, just to show them what they missed.”
“You would tease them, Sire?”
“Yes, I would. Have preparations made for my departure in the morning- Wait, I apologize, I’m no longer your superior.”
“But you remain my liege lord. It will be done as you ask.”
“Thank you.”

Morning broke slowly, but the ombihornist was on time with his reveille. Ever the military Vle, Taréz was immediately out of bed. But unlike all others in camp, he had a trip to prepare for. He put on all the royal finery he’d brought, came out of the tent, and got right on his horse. He wanted to be noticed, but not shot.
Birg was there, waiting. “Any last orders, Sire?”
“Yes. Keep me informed of any changes here. I’d like to know what other tactics those wily light Vle try. We could learn something.”
“Of course, Sire.”
As he kicked his horse into motion, Birg whistled. Two lines of troops then formed along his path away from camp. An honor guard! Not perfect, so he knew it was spontaneous, a joke, almost, but still a gesture of respect. He waved the royal wave, and kicked the horse to a gallop.
It was just half a day to the small forest town where the carriage was left. “To the camp, driver,” the prince ordered.
“Yes, Sire.”

That became their new routine: They’d go out, hunt, gather, make a fire, eat, hunt and gather some more, eat, and go back. But the diet was rather boring, and they didn’t have any bread. It got boring. Mecora really liked Spreak, but just one person wasn’t enough company.
Finally, they decided that Mecora should go into town and try to trade, and maybe find out from Handa’s mother what other fruits there were in the forest.

Spreak sang, moving their little cubbyhole up to where it was before, so that Mecora could go out onto the steps to the monastery. She picked up the satchel, heavy with rabbits and assorted fruits, and stepped out into the morning. The forest was still shady, but the little sky that was visible through the leaves was blue. The brids were singing, of course, a racket that Mecora had actually begun to take for granted.
She decided to try trading away the rabbits first, so she went to the butcher, Luyne. “Well, Mecora! We were beginning to think you’d run away for good.”
“Nah. I couldn’t do that.”
“You might as well. You mother’s heartbroken as it is.”
“Look, I didn’t come here to talk about my mother.” The butcher looked as if he’d been bitten, and she regretted her tone. She plunged on. “I have some rabbits here, and I need some flour, milk, and eggs. Do you have any of those?”
“Not enough to trade, but I have some monameat for the miller. How many rabbits do you have?”
“Five.”
“Five! Well, I could ask how you got them, but I won’t. I’ll take your five rabbits for my three monas. The miller will give you a leaber of flour for them. Is that enough?”
“Yes, plenty. But don’t you need the flour?”
“Not really. I’ll get another chance. I can just buy some if I need to.”
“Well, thanks!” She handed over the rabbits.
Luyne took them and looked at them closely. “Nice, nice. Those should make a good meal. So, you’re very welcome. Pleasure doing business with you.” He gave her the monameat. “Come back soon!”
“I hope so.”
Kelwom’s real miller had been a rather stout light Vle, and Mecora thought his dark replacement was blind. The flour was now coarser, and had more grit and other stuff in it. But, even she had to admit Hallu was improving.
The mill was not near the plaza, but on the other side of the western tree. It used a long, ‘sung branch, connected to a natural branch far above, to drive the grindstone with the movement of the wind. And it didn’t take much wind to move it. She stepped in, the noise of the stone muted but still very audible from outside. “Hallu? Are you here?”
Hallu, a graying woman, stepped in from the next room. “Ah, Mecora! Your mother needs more?”
“How should I know? I just gave Luyne five rabbits for the monameat he said was for you.”
“Oh, so the flour is for you and the spy.”
“He’s not a spy! Why the burning forest would he want to spy here?”
“How should I know?” Hallu shot back. “Anyway, I’ll give you the flour. Lities have to eat, too.”
Mecora was mad enough to just storm out, but they needed the flour. She bit her tongue, but she couldn’t keep her face still. The rest of the transaction was conducted without a word.
Next stop: Holice’s. She’d know just what fruits were good. Mecora hoped she could also help get some milk and eggs.
The herbal remedy shop didn’t have any customers yet, even though the morning had made it into their canopy. “Good morning, Holice.”
“Well, if it isn’t Kelwom’s own Moral Queen.”
Burn the forest! Did everyone have to criticize her this morning? Only she didn’t have a retort for Handa’s mother.
“I have some fruits and berries. I was hoping you might be able to tell me what’s edible and what isn’t.”
“Sure,” was the cheery reply, as if her previous comment was of no consequence. “Let me have a look.”
Mecora put the satchel on the counter and opened it as widely as it could go. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Holice nodded. “I see some flooms...” She pulled out the three flooms, and a bunch of small oblong blue berries. “Ah, some kripers. Don’t eat them. But one or two are good for constipation.” She put her hand in again, and brought out another assortment. “These little green bunches are verberries. Good. The purple bunches are thaleberries, also good. Don’t eat these yellow bunches. They’re not ripe yet. Ah! These red squishy ones? They’re gooshballs, of course. Messy, but delectable. Good for pies.”
“Is there enough there to get some eggs and milk?”
Holice eyed the collection again. “Well, if it’s all ripe...” She pawed through and brought out some more. “I might be able to give you some.”
Right now? This was easier than she expected! “Oh, please? I haven’t had any bread for days.”
“No, I suppose not.” Was there more criticism in that? Mecora wondered. “Okay. How does a woner of milk and four eggs sound? A deal?”
Mecora couldn’t think of any reason it couldn’t be a deal, although she thought it seemd too easy. But it sounded good anyway, and how could Holice short-change her? “Yeah, it’s a deal.”
“Wonderful!” She went into the back room, and brought out the quantities they’d agreed on. “Can I look forward to seeing you again with more?”
“Well, I guess so.”
“Good! You know, it’s...” Holice began conversationally, but then she appeared to notice something outside. “It’s been nice doing business with you. Come again!
“Yeah, thanks! I’ll be seeing you.” Mecora headed for the door, feeling as if she’d been dismissed. She held the door open for some customers coming in, who looked surprised, and a little disdainful at her.
She decided to waste no time getting out of town and back to the hole. She walked determinedly through town, weaving in and out, glad that most of the Vle who got in her way just didn’t notice her.
But one in particular did notice. “Mecora!”
Mecora froze. It was definitely her mom’s voice, just as disapproving as ever. She decided to just walk on, pretend she hadn’t heard.
But a strong hand held her shoulder. “Just hold on, young lady,” said one of the elders, “I think we need to have a talk.”
“About what?” Mecora asked defiantly as she found herself surrounded by officers of the council.
“About that enemy of the King you’re harboring.”
“Spreak is not an enemy of the King, and no one’s going to tell me otherwise!” Mecora caught her mother’s eye, who was hanging a safe distance outside the circle, looking worried. Why wouldn’t her mother help her? “Now let me out!”
“I’m sorry, Mecora, but we’re not going to let you make this mistake. Now, just tell us where you two have been hiding, and everything will be just fine.”
“No, it won’t! I won’t betray my friend! Let me go!”
“Sorry. You’ll have to stay with your mother until you tell us, and help our King.”
“Oh, well, okay.” She could slip from her mother at any time.
The group opened as they began to head for her mother’s home, and the elder was saying something about an officer of the council being nearby at all times, and Mecora realized that the officer was going to keep her at home and that now was her only chance: she slipped the satchel off her shoulder, went with them a few more paces, and then ducked into the crowd.
The elders raised an alarm, but Mecora was just too fast. Across the bridge, up the steps, the council officers not that far behind. She whistled urgently, and the hole opened. She dove in, saying, “Close it and move us!!!!”
Spreak sang, loudly, and this time there was a sensation of movement: Up. For a long, long time. But they were safe.

So the next day they left town and struck out into the forest. It meant they could no longer eat bread once they ran out of the supply they carried with them. It meant no contact with anyone else for a while, at least until they happened upon another town. And both hoped that wouldn’t happen for as long as possible.
They wandered in the same general direction they had before, toward the little hollow, and followed it to find the lowest point. It was the second day out when they found it— and the spot was already occupied.
By the largest tree either of them had ever seen in their lives.
The bark was significantly different from that of other trees, and the leaves on the ground were interspersed with soft but sharp things that looked like sewing needles. The trunk was straight as far up as the eye could see.
“Let’s go up there,” said Spreak.
“Yeah,” agreed Mecora breathlessly. She tried to imagine what she might see, but her imagination failed her.
Spreak sang, opening a chair-like hole in the side of the tree. They sat, and he sang them up
And up
And up
And up.
Canopy after canopy passed, obscuring the forest floor, and still the trunk did not seem to be getting any smaller. Finally, branches of the tree itself began to complicate his singing, and the single beautiful tone that had borne them up so far wavered into discordant and fast-moving tones. Then, the top canopy of the other trees passed. Mecora began to feel a little less secure as the vast green rug spread out before them. She could see for what seemed like forever, and the immense blue sky nearly overwhelmed her. She moved a little closer to Spreak.
He stopped singing. “The trunk can’t stretch any more above here.”
“That’s okay,” said Mecora a little uneasily. She judged them to be about as high above the other treetops as Kelwom was above the ground. In the distance, the rolling, uneven rug seemed to have some holes, which she supposed were meadows far below. Farther off were some hills that were either totally devoid of trees or had trees on them only partway up. Above, the blue sky was interrupted by some large white puffs. “What are those white puffs?” she asked.
“I think they’re called clouds. My father took me up to see them once. He says that when they gather and cover the whole sky, they can turn grey and then pour out the rain.”
“Oh! And here I thought the Creator just used a celestial watering can!”
“Well, there’s a piece of one of his cans.”
“It looks so innocent, just floating there, stretching, and shifting, looking for its friends so they can get together and rain.”
Spreak smiled. “My mom once said you can see shapes in clouds.”
“Shapes? You mean, like the rabbit ears?”
“Hey, yeah, you’re right! Just like that!” And on and on they named the shapes they could see in the few clouds there were floating above. They even rotated so the sun could fully fall on their faces.
That sun sank in the sky, and they both observed their very first sunset.

They woke hungry the next morning— a rationed meal of bread just couldn’t last them through the night. So, it was time to hunt, and move on to see just what other natural wonders they might find.
After a meal of squirrel and flooms, they headed out of the valley. It was hard to enjoy the walk— compared to yesterday’s experience, it felt now as if they really had no way to tell where they were going. Seeing the world this way was to see only the very tiniest pieces at a time.
They reached the crest of a hill by midday and had another meal there before moving back down. Spreak said he wanted to find another low spot by nightfall.
What they found this time was far better. Ahead, they could see more and more light, less and less vegetation. And suddenly they broke out of the forest onto the bank of a lake. Its beauty left Mecora breathless: the vast expanse of dark water, the tree limbs hanging over the bank. Of course, she’d never seen a lake before. She reached down to touch the water.
And just as she did so, a pale shape streaked past her and splashed into the water, getting her somewhat wet in the process. But into her indignation intruded a question: “Are you... naked?!”
“Would you suggest walking around the forest in wet clothes?”
“Well... no...”
“So go behind a tree, leave your clothes there, and join me.”
“Spreak, I... I can’t even swim.”
“You can stand here, trust me. Now quit being a wuss.”
“Ok, but you have to promise to look away while I get in the water.”
“I promise.”
Mecora didn’t really believe him, but she went behind a tree anyway and got undressed. “Turn around.”
“I’m not looking!”
Mecora looked from behind the tree anyway just to be sure. True to his word, he was looking out across to the other side, so she ran in as fast as she could. It was cool, but very refreshing. A few times she forgot herself enough to almost stand up out of the water, but each time she stopped herself. And she found that it was possible to move in the water by kicking and moving her arms, though not very quickly without exposing her posterior.
Eventually, they got out with their backs to each other and got dressed for dinner.

More walking, clockwise halfway around the lake and then up the hill into the next valley to their next adventure, energized by the last two. Which was probably why they felt so let down when all they found was a road.
But there was some traveling noise coming from down the road, so they made an unspoken agreement to investigate. It was soon clear that the travelers were approaching. They caught glimpses through the trees of mounted Vle, giving the two youths pause. And then the army was almost upon them.
A horn blared as the two youngsters darted away from the road. “A deep voice ordered, “By the authority of the King I command you to obey his Proclamation!” Neither of the runners chose to recognize that authority at that moment.
Which of course, led to the next step: The army behind them loosed the dogs, and from the sound of the crashing forest, half the platoon itself was following. They needed a large tree, but in this particular part of the forest, the trees were barely wider than a single Vle. Finally, one appeared ahead of them. Could they reach its safety in time? Mecora worried. Spreak could treesing well, but they both were getting out of breath. He sang in gasps and spurts, creating the oddest looking hole in the tree Mecora had ever seen. It was tough to get into, in fact, but Spreak was able to close it before the first mounted Vle could been seen in the brush.
There was no way to fool the dogs, however. Their barks could be heard as Spreak breathlessly sang their way up the tree. For the moment, in the top canopy, they were safe.
“They aren’t gonna just walk away,” observed Mecora.
“I know,” Spreak gasped. He gulped some more air.
They sat there, wondering just how they were going to get out of their predicament. Then, Mecora said, “It would be nice if we could just get to the next tree somehow.”
“Yeah.... and there just might be a way.” He sang open a hole, allowing them to look at the next tree, its canopy mingling with that of the tree they were hidden in. He sang some more; that next tree grew a thick web of branches reaching toward them, but it was still quite a distance from them.
“What are you thinking?” asked Mecora curiously.
“Can you jump far?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think I can—”
“Unless you can think of something better.”
“It’s such a long way down! Vle weren’t meant to fly!”
“I know! That’s what that web is for... like a net, to catch us.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Thanks for your honesty.”
“You’re welcome. Now, come on.” With that, he gave a mighty heave, landing squarely, heavily in the middle of the web. Mecora winced, his “Ooof!” riding the wind to her ears. He didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, he stood, straightened, and looked up at her. He beckoned silently with his hand.
Mecora sighed, counted to three, and chickened out. She held her breath, and tried again. The third time, her own muscles surprised her with a fantastic shove. The passing air rushed by her ears, and nearly panicked. But she didn’t scream. Suddnely, she landed, and she could hear some of her joints popping. “Ow,” she whimpered when she finally was still.
“Are you hurt?”
She wasn’t sure. She had to check herself. Already, the pain was gone, but it felt like every muscle and joint she had was strained. “No, I suppose not.”
“Good. We need to keep going.”
“You mean, we have to do it again?!”
“Yes! We might have to do this for a day before we can get away!”
“Can’t we rest a little after each jump?”
“Well, the trees are going to be closer together, so we don’t have to jump so far or so far down.”
“Please?”
“Mecora, I’m sure the army has their own treesingers. If they want us badly enough, they could find one and bring him in. The farther away we get before he arrives, the better.”
Mecora had to agree with the logic of that. “Okay, okay. Let’s go.” Slowly, she stood, and followed him into another trunk hole. And another jump, not nearly so far. Another hole, another jump, and soon the forest was so thick they could simply step out of the hole onto the web. Spreak was always careful to sing away the web after them.
It wasn’t long before they heard more noise below. Another army? Or, hopefully, just a town? They listened, and since they heard music and the clamber of thousands of feet on wood, they decided it was indeed a town. They came down just enough to check it out.
It was Kelwome.

Girl

Mecora’s stomach gurgled, sounding loud in the little space. She stretched, convincing herself to get up, out of the soft warm blankets her mother had allowed her to take. But it was a small space, not even as big as her own bedroom back ‘home’, so ‘getting up’ was a relative term. Spreak still slept, but her stomach growled some more. She’d have to get Spreak to teach her how to treesing, so she wouldn’t have to wake him to get breakfast.
She touched his shoulder. “Spreak, wake up. I’m hungry!”
He roused a little, but didn’t wake.
“Spreak! My stomach’s about to eat itself! Wake up and let me out!”
This time, his eyes opened to slits. “Mmmph. Okay.” Groggily, he sang a few notes, as in tune as always. And as always, the hole opened just enough for Mecora to squeeze out.
She blinked in the sunlight. It was later in the morning than she had thought. Or, maybe it was in fact afternoon. She sighed. If she’d only planned ahead, she wouldn’t have to be making this daylight trip.
She wouldn’t have to risk meeting her mother....
But at least it was work time. The seamstress’ work never ends, right?
The sounds of town grew as she rounded the tree and crossed the platform. At first it seemed as though everyone was ignoring her, until she noticed they were actually trying to look as though she was not an important part of their lives. They knew about Spreak, she knew, though she didn’t yet know if they’d figured out their hiding spot yet.
She plunged on through the crowd. Past the statue, around this tree, up a level, climb the stairs and enter the corner door.
She was so intent on her raid she didn’t even notice her mother there in the chair, back to the door. “Nice of you to come back once in a while,” said her mother.
Mecora didn’t know exactly how to respond to that biting comment.
“Did you know you took the last of the bread the other night? Your brothers and I had nothing to eat yesterday. Nothing!!! I told you I’m not making as much now, didn’t you believe me? No! You just went right on ahead, took a litie in, and stole our food to give to him! And you know what hurts most? The fact that you were doing it behind my back! The fact that you don’t respect us enough to think of our needs before your own, holier-than-the-king opinions!!”
“If you think this guilt-trip is going to make me want to stay home, you’d better think again,” accused Mecora.
Her mother stood up. “I’d better think?! No, I think it’s you that has to think, Mecora! You and your friends spent so much of your time trying to grow up with your drinking and dressing up, but lemme tell you, it’s thinking about others that makes you grown-up! Now, with that in mind, are you going to stay here and eat, or are you going to leave hungry?”
“Mom, you have no right to make me choose like—”
“I have every right because I’m your mother!!!”
“Well, not anymore!” And Mecora left.
Her stomach growled all the way back to the hole in the tree.

She whistled the signal, and the hole grew, but she didn’t step in right away. “I didn’t get any food. Mom was there.”
“Isn’t she supposed to be at work?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if she was just waiting for me, or what. I never got the chance to ask what was up! She just went off on me! And now I can’t go home anymore.”
“I find it hard to believe you mother kicked you out.”
“Well, she did! She said I could stay home and eat, or I could leave and starve.”
“Whoa. I guess she didn’t appreciate your nighttime visits.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Did they actually run out?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am.”
“Mecora...”
“Okay, okay, I am sorry.”
“I thought so. Well, since we have to fend for ourselves, we might as well start.”
“What, right now?”
“Mecora, your stomach has hardly stopped growling since you got back! Let’s go.”
“But how can we go through town in the middle of the day?!”
“Mecora, I can sing our way down the tree.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” She stepped in, and Spreak began to sing. First, the hole closed, and then the melody changed. The wood around them moved, twisted, whirled, but there was no sensation of actual physical movement. Finally, Spreak began to concentrate harder, as if listening and watching at the same time, as he tempo of his music slowed. Another melody changed, and the hole opened again. They had reached the ground. “Come on!” urged Spreak in a whisper, and they ran out and to the nearest underbrush before any curious eyes above could happen to notice.
Mecora followed Spreak through the brush long after she began to think they’d never find their way back. That’s what the paths were for, after all— since it was impossible to see for any distance in the thick foliage. And it was very difficult to see any predators!
“Spreak? How... long are we going to be out here?”
“Until we have enough to eat. I just didn’t want our movements to be seen from above, and I wanted to find a low spot. Fruit is easier to find down here. So is game.”
“Game? But, how would we cook it? We don’t have a stove.”
“But we can find rocks, and clear an area, and gather some sticks...”
“You mean, make a fire? Won’t the smoke be seen?”
“That’s another reason to be so far away.”
“So, we’ll have to come all this way from now on just to eat?”
“Who says we have to go back?”
“I do.”
“You’re not ready to leave town, just your Mom.”
“Yeah.”
“I understand. Then, yeah, we’ll walk this far for meals from now on.”
Mecora accepted that.
“Now, let’s see if we can find something to eat. If it’s a berry, pick it; just don’t eat it until I say we can. Take my satchel to put them in.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Well, I don’t know much. I’m just hoping we find something I recognize. Oh, and, if you need me, just holler. I’ll find you.”
“Okay.”
Spreak set off into the brush, quietly as he could, while Mecora just began searching the bushes near where she stood. There wasn’t much at first, but she began to notice more and more. And eventually, she found a tree with some nice, large, pale yellow fruits. She didn’t recognize them, but she picked a few.
She heard a whistle behind her, the one she’d used as a signal to open the hole in the tree. “Coming,” she said, and hefted the satchel. It had been a good hunt, she decided. Was Spreak as successful?
It took a few more whistles for her to find her way to him, but eventually she did, to see him working hard at starting a fire. Beside him was a pair of rabbits. All of a sudden, waiting for the fire to get started seemed impossible.
But it did start soon after she got there, and he came over to look at what she had. “Hmmm,” he said, “looks like you did really well! These flooms look really good.... and the thaleberries.... But, I don’t recognize anything else. We’d better not chance it.”
“Does that leave us with enough?”
He nodded. “Plenty.”
So they sat down to a hearty meal of rabbits, flooms and thaleberries.

They searched the forest for more before going back, but they had to hurry— the sun was going down, and the forest was getting dark very quickly. It was almost by feel that they returned to Kelwom’s clearing. They crawled in the hole in ‘their’ tree, and Spreak didn’t even bother to raise them. They simply covered themselves with the blankets and fell asleep.

For a moment, Hyran wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or not. A painful blink told him they were, which meant he was in a dark room. Where was the question now.
He sat up, hoping to see something, but the darkness was still complete. Around him, others breathed, and somewhere outside was the sound of merrymaking. He felt what he was sitting on— a nice soft pallet of oak leaves. So despite his last memories, he was not in a dungeon somewhere. But who were—
“You should lie down, Hyran,” came a whisper. “You need your sleep.”
Hyran didn’t reply, but followed the suggestion, and fell asleep.
The morning brought very little light to the room, windowless as it was. Neither was there much furniture- just the bed he lay on. He sat again, and looked around at all the members of the traveling party lying on the floor. He felt a bit guilty about getting the bed.
Some of them were moving around, and getting up; someone lit a lamp. A few noticed Hyran awake. “Hey, you know, you oughta do that more often!”
“No, thank you!” And then, the incongruence of the phrase hit him. “Wait a minute— what I did is hardly a loving thing to do, even if it is in defense of—”
“No, no, no, it’s too early for philosophy. I just meant that, because of you, we got this room and a nice, warm meal without having to sell anything. True, it’s cramped, but...” The cult member smiled broadly.
“At least we’re inside, yes, I agree. Sorry I ended up hogging the bed-”
“Nonsense! You earned it, I guess you could say.”
The conversation was waking more, and pretty soon everything was all packed away. Hyran still sat on the bed, not really feeling energetic enough to actually stand, and checked himself over. There was at least one bruise on every part of his body that he could see.
Valph came over and sat beside him. “You’re looking lively this morning. How do you feel?”
“Fine, but really slow. With all these bruises, shouldn’t I ache more?”
“It’s one of our Love potions, Hyran. That’s why you feel so slow. It’s kinda blocking your mind from feeling the pain.”
“Oh. I thought pain was healthy.”
“The Humans don’t seem to think so. They use this stuff a lot.”
Another member, helping to move the groups stuff out of the room, said, “Too often, if you ask me, and too much of it at a time. They use it like some people drink beer. And they do that, too.”
“But this isn’t alcohol I’ve got in me?”
“No, it’s a spirit of a flower called the bahbi. It’s a pretty flower, really.”
“Well, thank you for giving it to me, but I really don’t feel energetic enough to walk today.”
“That’s okay. You shouldn’t walk anyway. We’ve got a litter, and we’re going to take turns carrying it.”
“Oh, come now—”
“Would you rather be left behind?”
“Well, yes, rather than burden two of you with my body weight. Your only other option would be to stay around, but I know you can’t do that, so—”
At that moment, two young men with the litter entered. “Ready, Hyran?” asked the lead.
“Well, I’m not sure...”
“Yes, he is,” said Valph. “Come on, Hyran, we wouldn’t feel right leaving you behind, and anyway, we love you.”
“Hmph! Means a lot coming from someone who loves everyone,” replied Hyran, smiling broadly.
Valph just gestured to the litter, which the two young men held right by the bed.
“You’re being insistent?’
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll get on that on one condition: That I can pay you all back someday.”
“But your companionship is payment enough—”
Hyran didn’t see it that way, but he got on the litter anyway. How, indeed, could he pay them back for all this trouble?
The path downstairs was a twisty one, through the relatively spacious house. It belonged, explained Valph, to an Elder of the town who had been very charitable. He, too, belonged to the Love cult, though not very openly.
Just as they got out onto the platform, the Vle began to panic, fleeing inside. Various screams of “Humans!” could be heard over the din of so many feet, and then came the sound of the warhost itself.
“Well, maybe we’ll be staying another night,” observed Hyran.
“Don’t be so sure,” replied Valph, smiling. “These are Humans, after all. They ought to let us through. In the meantime, inside would probably be better.”
“With haste,” Hyran agreed. So, they returned to the house where they had awakened, gathering with the Elder’s family in the front room. The atmosphere was one of nervousness, of course, and Hyran began to wonder if it wouldn’t be better to have more of that bahbi spirit right then.
Hyran had never seen a Human before, but here were a whole troop of the round-eared, coming up and taking over the town. One placed himself near the Elder’s house, and made an announcement in remarkably good Elvish to anyone who could hear:
“Hear now a message from the Emperor Marianus of the Humans: ‘This troop which has taken over your town is in Larmania at the express request of the Kings of the Light Vle nations. We Humans have always been committed to the freedom of all peoples, much as in your Church of the Great Master, and do now take this action as part of that commitment. But we can also guarantee that your lives will go on as usual, for as long as you can live peaceably with us, so we will live peaceably with you.’ So ends the message of His Illustriousness the Emperor Marianus.
“Our first action will be to come around and count the residents. Please, remain in your homes. None may leave town before we are finished. Those who attempt to do so will be captured and tried as a spy.” With that, he moved on to another spot; those in the Elder’s house could faintly hear the message repeated.
And so, the traveling troupe waited, and waited, and waited, while the troops went about counting. The Elder’s house, visibly full of people, appeared to give the men pause, worried about a counter attack. However, the Elder himself bravely stood in front of the window with his arms crossed so that his fists were at his shoulders.
“What’s he doing?” asked Hyran.
“That’s the international Love signal. Since Humans originated our religion, most of them recognize it. See? They’re much more relaxed now.”
Hyran read the body language of the troops, but he didn’t know enough about Humans to be sure. They still looked quite tense.
Their armor was rather strange looking, as well. It shone like metal, but appeared to move like cloth. Of course, it was rumored that the Humans, though utterly inept at manipulating the tiny trees that grew on their island, were masters at manipulating metal. Here appeared to be the proof such mastery.
Their weapons were also unfamiliar: they resembled horns (the musical kind), only with a wooden attachment. They didn’t look very dangerous, but since the Humans used them so exclusively, Hyran decided he didn’t want to find out if they were.
The four men entered, and while three kept their strange horns trained on those gathered, the fourth counted. One of Valph’s closer friends spoke to the men in Human.
That surprised the four, and the counter replied. Hyran looked to Valph. “Can you understand what they’re saying?”
“No idea, but I doubt Flann will get us in any trouble.”
The Human conversation continued, but more slowly, as the man appeared to be stalling, shrugging a lot. Finally, the four men left, letting their horns hang to their sides, and smiling at something.
Once the door closed, twenty-some heads turned to the Vle who had removed the tension. He seemed shocked to find the attention on him. “What?!”
“What did you say to him?” asked Valph.
“Oh, I just asked him if they would be allowing Vle to go once they’re done counting. He said, only in certain circumstances. So then I explained who we were and where we were going and why, but he said he couldn’t guarantee anything. We’ll have to talk to the captain as soon as they announce the count is done.”
“I doubt we’ll be the only ones who want to speak to him,” observed Hyran.
The Elder stood, self importantly. “But he will have to talk to an Elder.”
“That was a big risk you took, sir,” said Valph. “They might have shot you, and how many Vle saw you make that sign?”
“I’m not an Elder for the power, brother. I’m an Elder to make a difference.”
The cult members raised their hands and made quick waving motions in silent applause. Hyran imitated them.

The man who had made the original announcements came around again, calling that the count was over and that life was to return to normal. Hyran wondered if the man seriously thought that was possible. But he couldn’t think long, since there was a near stampede for the door. At the head was the Elder himself, and Hyran followed the group as they searched for the captain.
It turned out that the most important Human they sought was down on the ground, which was presumably the duty of his position. Or, as was rumored, Humans simply feared heights, and to stay down was a privilege.
The announcer was there as well, apparently the official translator for the troop. He gathered the names of all the Vle who were there to speak with the captain, and at the Elder’s insistence, moved the group up front. With a salute, he made the introduction. Hyran wished he could have understood it.
“Yes, Elder,” said the captain through the translator. “What concern of yours might I address?”
The Elder crossed his arms again. “I only ask that you allow our brothers to continue along their journey.”
“Oh, dear. I’m not sure I can allow that. My orders are clear, regardless of origin. It’s really for safety’s sake.”
“You might be interested to hear the purpose of the journey.”
“Pray tell, brother.”
“They intend to at least try to convince the King to repeal his Proclamation.”
“Hmph! An admirable goal. Since I don’t know your country very well, I don’t know their chances of success.”
“Still, if they succeed, your job would be easier.”
“Your raise an intelligent argument. Very well. Since these are my brothers as well, and they hardly appear to be mercenaries of any type, I shall release them.” The captain nodded, and the group was escorted out the door of the tent.
Just like that, they were traveling once more.

The next day on the road, Valph opened the subject again. “Why did you leave the circle last night? We could have used you in our discussion.”
“Sorry. It’s just... I have a problem with discussions of that sort. They’re just too... sweet, is all. All this love, and happiness, and peace...”
“You have a problem with Love, happiness and peace?!”
“No, not at all. I’m just not accustomed to talking about those concepts as anything more than abtract concepts. It’s a result of my upbringing.”
“So, you’re just going to hide behind your upbringing?”
“Yeah. And do it my way.”
Valph pursed his lips. “Well, I guess you have a right to do that...”
Ahead, on the next rise, they saw a troop of soldiers. It didn’t take much for Hyran to realize that they were behind yet another light Vle march to the north.
The others saw it, too. Conversation slowed, and came to a halt as they approached the slower-moving group.
This was not going to be fun. On the way south, it had seemed to Hyran like forever before the marchers passed in the opposite direction; now, he was going the same way. The Love group shifted into single file to pass, and many stared at the ragged, empty light faces that didn’t look back very often. Hyran passed a mounted Vle who was whipping the light Vle below him. The light Vle fliched, but didn’t move any faster.
In a flash as fast as the whip, Hyran was angry. “Hey! Was that really necessary? Just what are you trying to prove?”
“You must be one of them lightie-lovers. And I have nothing to prove.”
“Well, now you do. Prove to me that you’re a humane person.”
“To what? These dogs? Not worth it.”
“Yeah, you flunked the test.”
“Oh, fruits.” The soldier whipped again. “Burn, I flunked again, didn’t I?”
Hyran couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He jumped, and grabbed the soldier’s collar, pulling him off his horse. But the element of surprise was over, and despite Hyran’s intentions, the soldier regained the upper hand quickly. Hyran was lifted off the ground by the collar. “Assaulting an officer of the army is an offense punishable by firing squad. Do you wish to die, lightie-lover?”
“No more than these Vle, no. But do what you have to do, just as long as you never whip another Vle again.”
“Brave words, lightie-lover. Especially in your position.”
Aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, Hyran remained silent. The other soldiers sneered, making Hyran wonder if they were just waiting for a fight.
“That’s better.” The soldier tossed Hyran away, and he hit the ground hard. Then, the soldier got back on his horse. He took out his whip again, and made to whip the light Vle back into motion. It was unnecessary, since they got moving again on their own, but Hyran jumped and grabbed the whip away.
“What? Are you dumb, or what? Give me that back!”
“Not until you have a taste of what it feels like!” Hyran gave it a crack, and the tail cracked. Right between the eyes, a new welt formed on the face of the soldier.
And that was that. The soldier jumped on Hyran, who could only do his best to protect himself against a fury of blows. After what seemed to be an eternity, someone lifted the soldier off of him, and helped him up.
The world spun. Pain seared from parts of his body he’d never felt pain from before. Nausea overcame him, as well.
“Here,” said a voice, but he couldn’t tell who was speaking. He thought it must be Valph, but the sound of rushing blood nearly drowned out voices, and the world was nothing but a blob of light. “Chew this.” Hyran felt something put at his mouth, an herb of some kind. He opened his mouth, and chewed the bitter leaf. It wasn’t long before the blob of light dissolved into darkness.

The next morning, the camp was abuzz with activity as Vle began to pack up for the big journey north. Hyran helped Valph strike the tent, and then even offered to carry it. Valph refused. “Nonsense. You’re my guest! It’s bad enough I’m letting you help.”
“Valph, I can’t let you carry all that yourself. I say one of us takes the tent, and the other takes the barkpot.”
“I just know I’m gonna regret this. Love your guests..., they say—”
“Well, consider this an act of love then.” Hyran was pretty proud of that one, fighting fire with fire.
It worked. “Hmm. Alright, you win. I’m not even sure you played fair, but you win. I’m still taking the tent.”
“Fine.” Hyran grabbed the barkpot, a magnificently ‘sung piece. Sometimes it seemed to Hyran that such things ought to be for higher tasks than carrying clothes... He slung the reed straps over his shoulders. “Are we going soon?”
Valph nodded up the road. “Some are already leaving. Shall we?”
“After you, my friend.”
“By the forest, you’re better at this love thing than I am!” Valph laughed, and headed north to join the march. Hyran wasn’t far behind.

They traveled somewhat slower as a large group than a single person would have, but Hyran didn’t really mind. He wasn’t in a big hurry, and the friendships he was forming were, if not lasting, at least satisfying, once they got past the syrupy sweetness.
Each evening, they stopped at a town, offered their wares, and got some sort of accomodation. Most often, it was nothing more than a part of a fallow field to pitch their tents. It was in these camps that they made their crafts as they ate, drank, and sang songs. Hyran didn’t know most of the songs, since a lot of them had come from the Human land, but despite their alien tuning, he learned them quickly.
One evening, Valph sat weaving strands of bluereed, autumnreed (yellow) and thalereed (purple) into a small bracelet while he and Hyran talked. The ex-monk watched closely, having never seen that particular weave before. “Is that a Human weave?”
“Yes, it is. Do you know how to weave?”
“No, not really, other than what I’ve had to learn. What’s that for?”
“The Humans call it a friendship bracelet. It’s something you give to someone who is your friend, and then as long as you’re both friends, you wear the bracelet constantly. We give them to people who let us stay on their field or in their inn, or give us food, as well as to anyone else who is generous to us. Then, we can sell more next time we pass through. But, of course, among us, it’s exactly what it was intended to be: A symbol of friendship.” Valph finished by tying the two ends together. “Here, friend, I would like you to have this as a token of my friendship.”
Hyran held out his hand. “Thank you, but I’ll take it only if you teach me how to make one for you.”
“Oh, really, Hyran, you don’t have to—”
“Of course I do. Beside, then you’ll have one more person making bracelets for sale.”
“Well! If you put it that way...” Valph pulled out three more reeds, a springreed (green), warningreed (red), and dullreed (grey), and proceeded to teach Hyran.
It wasn’t long before Hyran was weaving away by himself. Meanwhile, the singing had begun, and as he weaved, he joined in as best he could. The singing grew louder, and louder, as more and more joined a circle that had started with Valph and Hyran. The others were standing, of course, and they beckoned him to put down the bracelet.
So, he did, with a rock on top of it to keep it from unwinding. Then, he stood and joined the happy, singing circle. In the back of his mind, he realized that even though the rhythms and tuning were totally different, as well as the language and themes, the singing now was as much a balm to his soul as the chants at the monastery had been. Which was strange, since the songs really seemed rather unsophisticated. Or, perhaps that was just his own bias.
Soon, the group singing ended, and individuals who wanted to took turns singing favorites of theirs. Between songs, the female Vle to Hyran’s right leaned toward him a bit. “You really sing well. Have you sung since you were little?”
“No. Only since joining the monastery. Thanks for the compliment.”
“Listen, why don’t you get up and bless us with a song?”
“Well,” Hyran considered, “I could, but I only know the chants of my own religion.”
“That’s okay. They’re beautiful chants.”
“Maybe not tonight.”
“Nonsense.” More loudly, for all to hear, she said, “I think our guest, Hyran, has a song to sing for us— a chant from the monastery he once belonged to.”
Across the circle, someone stood. “Are you sure that’s appropriate, Cavien?” he asked. “No offense, but the Church of the Great Master is not known for its love. It’s an old... traditional religion, and not ours.”
Ah, a challenge. Hyran had been unsure before, but now he thought it would indeed be appropriate. He stood and faced the challenger. “No offense taken. However, the spirit of the Great Master’s Mandates is indeed love. I will sing you a chant, one which speaks of the Great Master’s redemption. I do not ask you to believe it, merely to listen. For one cannot go into the future, without some understanding of the past.”
The Vle across the circle acquiesced, and Hyran began to sing. Strangely enough, the old tuning now seemed odd to him, and he stuggled with the first few notes before he could be sure he was staying on key. It was not a special chant of any sort, just one that his ex-brothers would be singing that very moment, far away in their chapel as they dedicated the day which had just passed.
It wasn’t very long either, so the listeners were surprised when it was over. The same Vle stood again. “It sounds as though the song says Redemption is love.”
Valph then stood, as well. “Yes! It is! Don’t you see? How can you redeem someone you don’t love? Hyran, I thank you for your lesson this evening. You’re right— we have a lot to learn from our past.”
Hyran smiled, carefully picked up his bracelet and moved away. The discussion was getting much too syrupy again for his taste.