Proclamation

2009-09-22T05:44:00.000-06:00

It was the saddest day in his life.
Taréz sat beside his father at the council table, surrounded by ambassadors of very nearly every nation in the known world, plus the dukes of the eastern- and westernmost duchies of Larmania.
Some of them were to become kings, while others were to lose their positions entirely.
The King of Zvalja pounded a gavel twice, then once in the international commencement ritual. The conversation in the room stopped immediately. "Gentlemen of royalty and gentlemen of representation: Here begins the peace proceedings for the end of the World War for the Light Vle, 968 AGM. We meet to determine the post-war boundaries of the defeated, Larmania. We begin with Undren, Ambassador of Varmacia. State your case."
Undren stepped to the world map in the wall. He indicated the red line zigzagging generally northeast-southwest across Larmania. "This is the Eastern Light Vle line of occupation." He then added a line, in green. "This is the former Varmacian border with Larmania. We propose, first: As this area was never colonized by dark Vle, this land shall return to the fiefdom of his Majesty the King of Varmacia. We propose, second: As this area has historically been occupied by Vle of both shades, and that much of said area has been ruled wisely and well by His Grace the Duke of Varabia, that this land shall be ruled by him as King, sovereign and separate from the Kingdom of Larmania. So ends the case of the Eastern Light Vle."
"You say you speak for the Eastern Light Vle? Does A'peine concur? You gain nothing in this case."
"A'peine concurs," said the ambassador from that nation. "We desire no trans-mountain territory."
"Very well. Zvalja also concurs, as we wish to return to our pre-war neutrality. Alaitna, Ambassador from Pulinea, state your case."
"I speak for Kamilea as well." He took a place by the map as the Varmacian ambassador vacated it, and indicated a line that extended east-west from Lake Sessel to the Gulf of ‘Elan. "This is the Southern Light Vle line of occupation. We propose that the peninsula, south of this line—" he drew, in green, over the Duchy of Peninsula border— "also pertain to the Kingdom of Varabia. So ends the case of the Southern Light Vle."
"Does Kamilea concur?"
"Kamilea concurs."
"Very well. Brian Worcester, Ambassador of the Human lands, state your case."
Even someone as important as Taréz had never seen many humans. On the battlefield, it had been easy to miss their relatively thick bone structure, and their strangely rounded ears and short heads. "The Humans support the formation of the Kingdoms of Varabia and Kudira, as separate and sovereign nations from Larmania. So ends the case of the Humans."
"Very well. Grfden, Ambassador of ‘Elabina, state your case."
"I speak for both Dwarven nations." Taréz (and, he supposed, many of the others in the room) had to suppress laughs at the short, stocky build of the dwarf. Grfden's accent was heavy, deepened by his low voice. He in turn took the place by the map, and indicated his line, a north-south line very near the camp. "This is the Dwarven line of occupation." He then drew two borders. "This area south of Lake Kdeet was taken into Larmania by aggression. We propose, first: that this area revert to the Kingdom of ‘Elabina. We propose, second: That the duchies of Pecivia, Kudira and Belobon be formed into the Kingdom of Kudira, with the current Duke of Kudira as its King. So ends the case of the Dwarves."
"Your partner Dwarven nation gains nothing in this case. Do you swear by the honor of these proceedings that they concur?"
"I do so swear."
"Very well. King Lajot of Larmania, how do you respond?"
Unlike the ambassadors, the King remained in his seat. Taréz winced at the slight— laziness or girth was no reason to duck protocol. "I do not accept," stated his father. "All agression was the personal agenda of our former Chief of the Army. As he and his prejudiced family has now lost their dynastical military position, Larmania is no longer a threat to any nation on the map. I recognize the formation of Varabia and Kudira as attempts to create buffer countries from further agression. I do not feel this is fair to the people or to the would-be monarchs.
"I also submit that the areas conquered by previous Gardrics were in fact too undeveloped and unprotected by their fiefs." There were a few grumbles, at which the Zvaljan king rapped his gavel once. "I therefore say that, without a prejudiced Chief of the Army, these areas will continue to enjoy great prosperity. Consider the metal industry: As part of Larmania, metals can be sold throughout the nation, tariff-free. As part of Varmacia, which is a smaller market, the metals must be carried and sold throughout more countries. So ends the case of Larmania." Taréz raised his eyebrow at his father, waiting for two more words. "... the... defeated."
"Very well. I will reach a verdict in two hours."
It was a very silent two hours.

Another two raps of the gavel, followed by one, announced the decision. "I, King Rudiga of Zvalja, do accept all propositions as stated today. Dukes Varabia and Kudira, I wish you success in your new royal duties. These peace proceedings of 968 AGM are thus concluded." With one rap, followed by three, the decision was final.
Larmania had lost more than half its territory.
Most of the crowd stood, and filed out the door, chatting quietly, but not very exuberant. "Varabia, friend," called the king softly.
The newly-made king still obeyed his friend and former liege lord. "Yes, Lajot."
"Now that you will be leading a kingdom, do you have need of an experienced chamberlain?"
"Why, yes I could. I don't think Ronnoc is up to the task."
"Very well. I imagine Yis would be uncomfortable serving with me, so, if he accepts, I would like you to hire him."
"Consider him hired. Thank you."
"Thank you."
As Varabia moved for the door, Taréz and his father finally stood. They went to the balcony, where his mother waited. They watched out the window at the departing ambassadors and Kings. The queen consoled her husband, but Taréz remained standing a bit apart from them. "Thanks a lot, Gardric," he muttered.
"No, no it's my fault, son. I should never have given him so much free rein—"
"Nonsense, Father— but please, let's not argue about this right now."
"You're right. There's something we must do." The King stood straighter, and led them down to the throne room. "Stecky! The sceptre, please! Normally, this would be done in the presence of the nobles, but there's no reason we need to wait for them. They'll concur anyway."
Stecky arrived with the sceptre, a cobilum staff topped by an eagle that held a small crystal ball in its upstretched wings. Taréz knew what his father intended to do, though he wasn't sure it was for real.
But his father's words made it real. "Taréz, you have shown great strength of character and conviction in these past months. You are involved and proactive, intelligent and thoughtful. These qualities I have found myself lacking."
"Dear," said the Taréz's mother, "please, just because of an error in judgment and a breakdown doesn't mean—"
"Fylen, my love, do not deny our son what is rightfully his. It is his turn to rule. Taréz, I have no doubt that you will return our nation to its glory."
His father cleared his throat. "And so, I, King Lajot the 24th, do hereby abdicate my throne, the Great Master be my witness, and pronounce you, my son, King Taréz the 15th of Larmania." The King passed the crown from his head to Taréz's. "Rule wisely, my son, and do all in your power to help our nation to prosper."
"In act and deed, in thought and word, I will honor this crown, and the people it represents, until death do us part. This by the Great Master I swear."
Monarch and ex-monarch then bowed to each other, and the elder generation stepped below the dais. Taréz knew this to be his cue to take the throne. It wasn't comfortable to be looking at his parents that way.
King Taréz sighed, and turned his thoughts to the future.

---

2009-09-16T05:25:00.001-06:00

Spreak and Mecora headed as quickly as they could toward the camp. Spreak, in fact, was dancing almost as much as walking. "Free! I feel so free!"
"Spreak, you weren't even locked up!"
"No, but I was pretty much stuck in the trees. If I never treesing again, it'll be too soon!"
Mecora had to laugh, but then thought of never hearing his voice singing again...
They heard the noise of a hundred thousand voices before they reached the turn to the camp. Soon, they saw that the light Vle were celebrating their freedom as much as Spreak, and it had spilled out into the surrounding forest. Carefully, they made their way to the gate.
"How are we supposed to find anybody in all this?" asked Mecora. And then, at Spreak's rueful look, she knew the answer.
Up in a tree again, they looked down to try to find Spreak's family, and (Mecora hoped) Mereo and Ueal. But it was nearly impossible to find anyone in the sea of Vlekind.
Unless they happened to be looking up. "Mom! Dad!" yelled Spreak, and quick as he could he sang his way down, leaving Mecora on the branch.
"Spreak! Wait! Let me—" but he was too intent on getting through the crowd to see his family. Mecora allowed him the moment, the tight five-person hug. Hopefully she wouldn't notice Mereo or Ueal anytime soon, stuck as she was.
Eventually, the hug broke, and Spreak sang her down. And soon, they were on the road toward Kelwome,
and Varmacia.

The crowd thinned out as the days went by, and groups were forming by their destination. They met no other families from Varmacia, but they joined a group from Kelwome. Soon, a very familiar family joined them.
"Ueal!" Mecora darted between Vle as well as she could, into a long, long hug.
By the time they reached the light Vle army checkpoint at the border of Varabia, Mereo's family had met them as well.

Open-mouthed, a thousand or so Vle gaped at their once pretty town. Burned, empty.
Dead.
"Should we even bother to go up there?" asked a former elder.
"There might be something salvageable," answered a ladyelf.
Another asked, "I think he means, why shouldn't we just move on to Varmacia with the Annardems?"
"But this is home! All my ancestors grew up around here."
"But who's to say the King will never do that to us again?"
"Even he's not dumb enough to make the same mistake twice."
"I heard he's gone insane."
The Elder stepped in. "We're getting off the subject. Varmacia is a long way yet, and there's no guarantee they'd let us stay. Let's find out what the political situation will be first. And our neighbors might return, too. Let's give them a place to return to."
"Why should we? I mean—" began a woman, but most of the faces in the crowd gave her dirty looks.

The first of the dark Vle refugees arrived the next day, and Mecora rushed out of Ueal's house to the edge of the platform to see if her family was among them. But they weren't.
Ueal appeared beside her. "Looking for your Mom?"
"Yeah. She's not down there."
"Bummer."
"Do you think you'll try to repair your house today?"
"No. You've seen it! I don't think even Spreak could fix it."
"It never hurts to ask."
"Ueal, I can't do that. That poor guy is so sick of tree singing. He's been doing it every day for months."
"I guess I see your point." Ueal paused. "Hey, the Lion Monk is hosting a party tonight. Do you wanna go?"
Mecora shook her head. "No, it doesn't seem like fun anymore. Like... it's a different part of my life."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. It was a few weeks before anyone was brewing in the camp, but Mereo and I... we just didn't couldn't get into it without you."
"Same here."
"Speaking of things being different, have you seen how some of the Vle are looking at each other?"
"No." Mecora looked around at some of the faces, at some of the meetings. Things definitely seemed more divided than they used to be. "I see what you're saying. But, you didn't see what Vle were like after you left."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they didn't take too kindly to Spreak being around."
Just then, a few shouts erupted to their left, and they turned to see a pair of bartenders, one light, and one dark, in a fistfight at a pub door. Onlookers broke it up quickly.
"Maybe things will never be the same," Mecora wondered aloud. Then, footsteps came behind her, and she turned her head to see Spreak approach.
"Dad said it's time to go."
"I thought your dad wanted to take a longer break."
"I thought so, too, but we're... all feeling a little uneasy."
"Do you think we'll ever see each other again?"
"I hope so. I don't think... you should... wait for me..."
"I know. I want to, though."
The words ran out. Mecora felt tears welling out of her eyes, but rather than let them be seen, she hugged him. And then she found she really didn't want to let go.
"Spreak."
She hadn't noticed his father approach, and she quickly let go at the sound of his voice. "Come back, if you can. Please. I'll be here."
"I'll try. Bye, Mecora. Thanks for being my friend."
Mecora watched the family board the lift and go down to the ground. Ueal's arm around her shoulders couldn't completely banish the slight feeling of abandonment. Burn it! She shouldn't be feeling that anymore!
A voice called from below. "Mecora!"
She looked toward the lift, which was just beginning its ascent. "Mom!"

New stories...

2009-09-15T15:32:00.001-06:00

A long, high horn sounded, and all activity in the camp stopped. Hyran noticed that everyone he saw was looking in the direction of the watchplatform, a beacon of direction that Hyran hadn't even noticed for hours. "What's going on?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.
"It's Yis' signal. He hasn't used it in weeks."
"What does it mean?"
"Watch and listen, is all."
And what he heard was the sound of voices, cheering, a din that grew as it approached. "FREE!" The din became deafening as a million and a half Vle exulted. But, soon, it died down, and Vle went back to their houses.
?!
"Come, Hyran. Yis even planned for this moment. When it's our turn to go out, we will be told. In the meantime, we need to prepare."
Hyran made a mental note to complement Yis, if he ever saw the Mayor again.
It turned out that it wasn't even their time to go until the next morning, but Hyran was relieved when it was time. One of the guides appeared at the door and called, "House 266! Move toward the exit now. Hyran, please meet Yis at Mayor's office. You have a visitor."
A visitor? That was intriguing. Who could it be?
It wasn't hard finding the way to the gate with so many Vle to follow. Once out, he made his way over to the watchplatform. As he exited the crowd, he saw a familiar Vle standing by the lift.
"The Great Redeemer bless this day, Hyran," said the Representative.
"The Great Master bless you, equally, Your Holiness." Hyran found he was even more intrigued, too much so to feel any animosity.
"You will be wondering what I am doing here."
"Yes, Your Eminence, that is the basis of all the questions I have."
"Walk with me. We shall return to town." They turned, and joined the southbound crowd. "The question you brought me was very well worded, Hyran. The logic is impeccable. It would seem that thanks to the Larmanian King, our faith has come upon a turning point."
Hyran put his tongue between his teeth to bite back his impatience.
"I spent weeks turning your words over and over in my mind. And the only thing I can conclude is that I was too hasty in expelling you. I was too busy watching where your logic was going to really allow for a true theological argument.
"Furthermore, I became convinced that the true role of the Representative is not to perpetuate old ideas but rather to continually search for new inspriation. So, I went to speak with the King, to perhaps do as you asked- discuss the possibility of releasing the light Vle."
"I see you were successful."
"No, thankfully, the general feeling in the palace was already toward release. I merely was the... catalyst, you might say. The fact remains that you were right. So, without further ado, I reinvest you as a monk of the Kelwome order. And, I promote you to Representative of the Great Master."
Hyran was shocked, speechless. In stopping, a family nearly ran him over with their wagon.
"Do you not wish to be reinvested?" the elder Vle asked once Hyran had recovered.
"Y- yes, of course. I just... had thought of that part of my life closed behind me. But Representative! That's quite a jump. And aren't you concerned that my theological writing may be even more challenging than before?"
"That's exactly why I want you to lead us. To challenge us. Once I allowed myself to follow your logic, much of the rest of your theology, as I could discern from your writing, made so much more sense than my own. In short, you've made a convert."
"Your Holiness, may I ask a question?"
"Of course. And remember, you are ‘Your Holiness', now."
"How is it that you are here? Was there no resistance to your leaving? And what of the battle on the peninsula?"
"No, there was no resistance, and the flag of Kezantopil was enough to ensure my safe passage."
"You risked much in coming here."
"I did. But you showed me it was necessary. I know your vows mean a lot to you. Could I do any less?"
Hyran surpressed a smile. "You honor me greatly. Yes, I suppose I might be able to fulfill His Mandate in this world. I accept."

They stayed overnight in the apartments of the High Priest of Dronac, and parted company in the morning. Hyran had two weeks before he had to take up his new duties in Kezantopil, so he took his place in the crowd, and made his way back to Kelwome.
Sadly, the town had not fared well, as if perhaps it had been a prize in a battle. Hyran had to use the monastery's lift all the way from the ground. At the top, a novice greeting him, surprise on his face. "Hyran! You've returned! What brings you back?"
"Now, novice, do you not know how to properly address your elders?" Hyran allowed the statement to sink in before announcing, "I've been reinvested!"
"That is great news. We have missed you." The young Vle reached over and rang the bell of announcement.
Soon, the abbot's face peered over a ledge above them. "Hyran! It is good to see you well. I got the message from Grinden, so I know you don't need my permission to enter anymore."
"Thank you, Abbot. It is good to see you as well."
"Please wait a moment. I will come down."
Hyran waited, and noticed that other passing monks had noticed him as well and coming over to see him. But the Abbot took precedence, of course, and reached Hyran first. "Your Holiness, I greet you on behalf of all our brothers. Come, tell me about these past months..."

2009-09-10T07:16:00.000-06:00

Gardric did actually appear late the next day. From the royal chamber window, Taréz watched him climb out of his carriage, and walk proudly to the palace, a smirk on his face. Was that pride for what he had accomplished? Taréz hoped so— Gardric had enough listeners to know if something against him was afoot, and ending the war by decree like this would not be agreeable to him.
The three Vle met in the grand hall. Taréz thought about being the first to speak, but decided to see just what his father would do. This, after all, would be the argument to end all arguments between them.
Gardric was first. "I have great success to report, Your Majesties," he announced. "Do you call for an accounting of them?"
"No, I call for an explanation of your tactics. I have heard some very interesting reports."
"Oh, Sire, my tactics are much too numerous to enumerate here. Shall we—"
"No, we shall not. I'm only concerned about one tactic in particular. Something about stealing the energy of the enemy?"
Gardric chuckled. "Ah, the exultations of the victor, the excuses of the loser. Our troops are so skilled, it may well seem that way. We can fight all day without losing spirit, because we are defending our homeland!"
"Don't lie to me Gardric. I know you've been using mages to do the energy stealing."
"Fabrications of the enemy! Undoubtedly they wish to undermine my trustworthiness."
It was finally Taréz's turn. "By planting said mages in your cellar? And one in the command tent at every battlefield? I highly doubt it. Tsk, tsk, Gardric, lying to your liege lord. You taught me better than that."
For a fleeting moment, Gardric appeared as frantic as the cornered rat. Then, as any animal would, he struck back, head held proudly. "I did it for Larmania, Your Majesties! Century after century, those light Vle have been draining our resources to our enemies, and it was time to bring it to an end! My line has been waiting for the time to strike back, and the time has come! I thought I had made you see that, King Lajot! But now I see you're too weak to do anything about it. Weak as a lightie! You must not rule anymore!" With that, he unsheathed his sword.
But Taréz jumped between them, his own sword raised and ready. "Weak, my foot! Wiser than you, I'd say! My only regret is that we allowed your line's prejudice to last so long. I hereby remove you as Chief of the Army."
"Hah! You can't! I'm your superior officer!"
"I can, and I do. Guards, arrest this Vle!"
This time, the guards obeyed, infuriating Gardric. "Fools! What do you think will happen without me to win the war? What to you think will happen to Larmania? You need me to lead us to victory."
"Not your way anymore, Gardric. We have sent alms of peace to our neighbors. The fighting will stop."
"You're insane! Insane! Insane!" the former chief screamed repeatedly as he was dragged to the dungeon.

2009-09-09T05:59:00.000-06:00

When he returned to the castle, Stecky came running. "Your Highness! A message from Yis for you."
"Really?" Taréz took the scroll, wondering what the news was. He hardly heard Stecky excuse himself to attend to a visitor's ring.
The prince hadn't heard much from Yis recently, partly because he was so busy. It contained surprising news: dark Vle were now interned in the camp, having been arrested by the army as ‘light Vle sympathizers.' Yis was relating the story of one ex-monk in particular who had led many such groups, right up to Dronac.
"Your Highness?" said Stecky nervously. "An important visitor...."
"Prince Taréz, attend me," said a benevolent voice from below the grand staircase.
Taréz looked over the landing to see the Representative of the Great Master climbing the steps, and dropped to his knees. "Your Holiness! I am not worthy to receive you." He paused. "May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit? I have not known the Representative to leave Kezantopil for reasons other than Deschule celebrations."
"Unusual times call for unusual measures. Is your father available?"
"He is."
"Please, stand, my son."
Taréz did, and nodded in excusal to Stecky, who moved off on a new errand. Then, the prince noticed the two young Vle behind the Representative, but wasn't sure how to phrase the question in his mind.
But the question was answered anyway. "Let me introduce you to these two youngsters I just met. This is Mecora, who lost two of her best friends to the camp. And, if you'll excuse me my presumption, my dear, is half light."
The boy appeared astonished, while the girl stammered. "Y- you can tell?"
"I am a student of Vlekind, Mecora. Even though you may be dark enough to escape internment, it is clear that one of your parents was light."
"You never told me that!" said the boy.
A discussion seemed about to follow, but the Representative preempted that. "And this is Stecky. He and his parents are Varmacian, and were unfortunate enough to be visiting our country when the Proclamation was made."
"My father will definitely want to hear this. Please, follow me, Your Holiness."
Taréz turned and walked at an easy pace for the chambers. It wasn't his custom to walk so slowly, but now he felt himself to be in the chamberlain's place, in comparison with so holy a person as this. He even used some of the procedure for announcing a guest to the King in the royal chambers.
"Father, a very important guest has arrived. May I show him in?"
The king gave a look askance at his son, then checked himself over. "Yes, please, who is it?"
"May I present the Representative of the Great Master. He wishes to speak to us regarding the internment of the light Vle."
Taréz father did an admirable job concealing his surprise, and, groaning, he knelt. "Your Holiness! I am not worthy to receive you."
"That remains to be seen. Please, let us sit at the table."
"Yes, please, do." Taréz led the pontiff to the head of the small meeting table; the children continued to stand.
"There are some facts I would like you to know. My investigation showed that Gardric made accusations about strikes, riots, and even a dock burning?
"Yes. The strikes and the riots threatened the security of our nation."
"I submit, King Lajot, that the security of your nation is very undermined anyway."
"So it has turned out."
"Worse, however, is that many of Gardric's accusations were manufactured. A private stationed in Hantas confessed to starting the dock fire. The strike riots were by a small minority, less than one hundred Vle at a time. The light Vle are a very sensible race, you know."
"I know. My chamberlain has shown that. But what of the bank strikes? If we hadn't been able to take them over, our nation would be bankrupt and taken over by now."
"Also manufactured. That Gardric is a wily one. Again, through confessional, we learned that he paid a few of his troops to intercept the mining audits so he could make it appear to the bankers that the miners weren't being paid enough, when in fact they were receiving competitive pay. Quite simply, the light Vle were never a danger to Larmania."
The king whimpered, and fell ignominiously onto his voluminous belly. "No, no... How could I have been so blind..." he whimpered.
The Representative contnued to converse with Taréz. "I am gratified to learn that His Majesty's heart is indeed pure of intention. Did you know that even dark Vle and non-citizens have been rounded up to be sent to the camp?"
Taréz felt sick. "Perhaps it would be healthier for Gardric to never arrive."

Prince

2009-09-09T05:58:00.000-06:00

His mind quieted somewhat by the time Taréz arrived back at the town where his mount waited. Perhaps he was overstepping his bounds, but he wrote out an Return to Report order to be delivered to Gardric. Normally, it was the King who would do that, but to wait until he got home to give the King his own report would mean that Gardric would be free to use the mages for another sixteen days.
The four days necessary for travel were too much as it was.
He gave the order to the solitary town sentry, with the instruction that Gardric be told it had been issued from the palace, if he asked. Then, Taréz headed north at the horse's best speed.

Without an idea how much longer it would be until Gardric would arrive at the palace, Taréz just jumped off his horse as soon as he arrived three days later. The horsemaster wouldn't appreciate the hard riding the prince had forced the horse to, but the horsemaster had to expect such things in such times.
Taréz found his parents in the royal chambers, as usual. "Father, you won't believe what I discovered."
"What is it?"
"Magic. Gardric is actually employing mages at the battlefield!"
"Against the War Convention of 573? ‘Prohibited: Using magic to create an unfair advantage.' Even I know it, by heart! Has he forgotten?!"
"Father, you know he didn't forget."
"So, it is those mages who somehow make the light Vle forces tired, and ours strong?"
"Apparently so. A good idea, but decidedly unfair if the other side chooses to abide by the Convention. Imagine if they decided to break the Convention in the same way."
"Taréz, this war has to stop, before we lose the Convention altogether."
"Agreed."
"And now we have to deal with a Gardric who has gotten far too big for his britches! I wish I had a mage to send me there right now to give him a piece of my mind..."
"Well, you'll have an opportunity to. I issued a Return to Report order. He should arrive tomorrow, at the earliest."
The King seemed taken aback. "You issued the order? You don't really have that power."
"I know, Father, but I knew you'd want to talk to him as soon as possible."
"Gardric might not recognize it."
"Worth the risk, I think. If he doesn't, we've only lost a day. Better yet, perhaps we can insist he meet us at some point between here and the battle lines."
"Yes, yes. My son, you'll make a fine ruler. Just in case he doesn't show, though, we'd better send a message to meet us halfway. Stecky! Parchment!"
"You also might let the ‘enemy' kings know you intend to end the war."
"I do?"
The queen spoke up. "Dear, don't you think we should? I mentioned that... demonstration, I think they called it.... in Dronac. The people want the light Vle free, too."
"We should ask for a peace council. We won't be able to hold the battle lines after removing the mages, so our best bet would be to make peace where the lines are now. In the meantime, Father, I thought I'd consult with the Librarian, and anyone else who might know about where Gardric found those mages. If there is a secret school somewhere we don't know about, it could bode even worse for us. Especially if the light Vle overrun the country."
"Very well. Go."

In the Library, Furns was at the top of a ladder, busy reshelving some books on the top shelf. Taréz made sure his footfalls were loud enough to not startle the old Vle. "Oh, hello, Your Highness. Is there something I can help you with?"
"I need to track down some mages. Could you tell me what has happened to them since the use of magic went out of style?"
"I assume you mean Powerists, not alchemists or treesingers."
"Yes, exactly."
"Well, let's see..." Furns climbed down from the ladder and moved past Taréz to a shelf at floor level. "Ah, here we go. Now, if I remember right..." He pulled out two books and kept talking as he flipped though one. "...the mages didn't stop practicing, but went into hiding. This book is a secret report about a small society of them that banded together to support each other...." He came to the end of the book. "... but they were forced to disband by the local townspeople. That seems to have been the pattern for the last three hundred fifty years. Why the interest, may I ask?"
Taréz whispered the reason into Furns' ear, hoping the old Vle could hear.
"Ah. That is a concern. Well, maybe Gardric heard about a school somehow, and convinced them to stay on his land holdings."
That must be it! "Thanks, Furns. You may just have saved the kingdom!" Taréz hurried out, back to the stables and headed east across the meadow.
The family Gardric's importance to the kingdom had afforded them their own holdings, a piece that had once been part of the King's Private grounds. On a lower end of the ridge, and still a ‘safe' distance from the forest, sat the cottage-style castle where Gardric lived. It would have seemed quite large to most Vle, but it of course could not rival the royal palace.
It seemed almost ridiculous, but typical of Gardric, that there were guards at the cottage. They saluted as soon they recognized their prince.
"At ease, guards. I came to visit with the servants."
"The servants, Your Highness?"
"Yes. Are you questioning your liege lord?"
"No, Sire."
"I hope not." Taréz resumed his progress toward the door.
But he found his way blocked by two lances. "We are acting on orders to not allow anyone inside."
"Did Gardric specify me or the King in those orders?"
"No, Sire."
"Then I countermand that order. Allow me in."
The guards looked at each other, and Taréz could see the silent discussion. Finally, they shrugged and returned to their at attention position. Taréz noticed a lack of apology, but let it go. More important was what he might find inside. The greeting he just received seemed to confirm Furns' guess so far.
The butler was shocked when he entered. "Your Highness! It is.. such an honor to have you as our guest. However, the master is gone..."
‘Which is a perfect time for me to visit. I intend to look around in every room until I find what I'm looking for. I will not be refused in this. Clear?"
"Uh, yes, Your Majesty." Taréz almost smiled at the butler's obvious confusion, but he held it in. There were quite a few servants, who seemed very surprised at his presence. They were hurrying about, but as Taréz looked around, it appeared that nothing much was actually being done. A guard stood in the main hallways, as if maybe he was Gardric's watcher? A spy to make sure the servants were doing their jobs properly even in the master's absence?
Then he realized that another guard was standing in front of a door. It was the only door, in fact, that no servants used. Taréz strode right up to him, a little bit daunted. He had a trained Vle trapped like a badger with no escape route. If it came to a fight, it wasn't the best situation.
Precisely Gardric's idea, of course.
"Excuse me, I need to use that door."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, that isn't possible."
"I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer. By the authority of the King, you are to step aside and allow me passage."
"With all due respect, Sire, I cannot violate the oath I took."
"And this oath was...?"
"That I would not let any Vle in or out without express verbal permission of Gardric himself."
"And what did you swear on?"
"I swore my life. Gardric will end my life if I leave this door."
Taréz paused to think. "Then you must never allow yourself to be in his presence. If you do not step aside, I will be forced to injure or kill you. If you do, you will accompany me to the palace, and your life will be protected."
"We are talking about Gardric here."
"Yes, I know. You may have to serve strictly in the kitchen, or on the construction project, but you will not be harmed by Gardric."
"I accept your promise, Your Highness." The guard stepped and turned, his left side to the door. "You may not like what you find down there."
"I already have an idea what that might be." Taréz pressed ahead, through the door into a well-lit spiral staircase going down.
He half-expected to spend a long time on that staircase, but the cellar proved to be just below the cottage. The room he found was just as nicely adorned as the cottage itself, but instead of hurrying servants clad in simple brown and white, the Vle he found were all in brightly colored cloaks. "I thought so," he announced himself.
They all turned to look at him, and Taréz measured them even as they seemed to measure him. Were they going to protect the knowledge of their existence by killing or harming their prince?
"I'm not stupid enough to think that I can place you all under arrest for practicing unlawful magic, but I am going to order you to leave. Gardric's plan has been discovered, and we are going to end the plan. That may mean our enemies may take over the palace. I imagine you will not want to be here when they do. And it will be much worse for the kingdom if they discover you here."
"You're seriously going to jeopardize your own kingdom by ending such a successful plan?" asked one. "That hardly sees wise."
"Perhaps not, but the war has been fought under false pretenses. I can't allow that and still be heir apparent."
"You may lose your life."
"I may. Or may not. Royals always have a way out. And then I can fight to reclaim my throne. But I will not fight an agressive war against the whole world for a false ideal. Now, are we going to stand here discussing personal philosophy, or are we going to obey a direct royal order?"
The room full of powerful Vle obeyed their prince, many of them by simply disappearing. The rest climbed the stairs behind Taréz.

2009-09-08T07:12:00.001-06:00

"Were you serious about making sure all the light Vle are let go?" Mecora asked in the morning.
"Well, yes. I thought we ought to go to the palace and ask to see the King."
"And just how do you expect to get past the palace guards? They'll arrest you on sight!"
"I know. I haven't figured out that part yet. But I want to get going, and think it over on the way."
"Would you like me to take the road again?"
"Sure. Maybe you'll meet someone friendly to our cause."
So, once again, their traveling pattern was resumed, and they headed back to Dronac. The sky, what they could see of it, was very, very dark, affording little light for the journey, but they pressed on anyway. There was almost no way of telling how long they'd been going when they passed a large group of dark Vle headed the other direction. The ones on foot had their heads down, all but one.
Hyran?!
Mecora didn't believe it was possible, but then neither was the whole situation. A small troop of mounted Vle followed the group, as if said group was light. The sight put Mecora into a spiral of wondering: Just what was going on in this Kingdom?!
On they walked, and the darkness continued. Mecora felt as though she ought to be hurrying more, but she just didn't feel energetic enough. Maybe it was because she had skipped breakfast. More of the same fruits when the Vle in the camp were possibly enjoying real food hadn't been very appealing.
Finally, night fell, and they rested for the night.

The morning came fast, and they went directly toward the palace, going around to the north of the city of Dronac. And that was the end of the road, as it were, for the tree-bound Spreak. They still had not come up with a good plan, other than to just openly walk up to the palace gates and ask to enter, hoping against hope that they would be allowed in just on the strength of their story.
They were virtually alone as they walked the path across the meadow, up the hill to where the palace sat. Only one other figure was on that path, a rather regal figure about fifty yards behind them.
The guards were well trained, not even blinking at their arrival. "Today is not grievances day. Grievances of the public are heard only on fifthday."
"Please, we have to speak to the King! He'll want to hear our story, I know he will."
"You will have to return on fifthday, ma'am. In the meantime, your light friend—" did Mecora hear a sneer in the way he said that? "...will go with the guards standing behind you."
But then the other traveler made his presence known. "No, he shall not. By right of the clergy I ask entry to the palace of all who stand here in application. I am Grinden, The Representative of the Great Redeemer."

2009-09-08T07:11:00.000-06:00

It was very tempting to not look around Dronac, easily the biggest city either of them had seen. Even from the ground they could see some of its magnificent buttresses, arches, and even spires.
But being so close to their goal, they kept going. As the driver had told them, the camp wasn't hard to find. It was in the afternoon when they arrived at the widening in the road. All of a sudden, there it was, the massive wooden wall, an unnatural beige rectangle sectioning off the forest. And it was time to face the question they'd manage to avoid for the entire journey.
Mecora went over to Spreak's tree, placing it between her and as many army eyes as she could. "Now what?" she said into the waiting hole.
"I was about to ask you the same thing. They have the trees in there surrounded with fence, so no one can ‘sing themselves in or out. I'd been wondering about that."
"Couldn't we sing ourselves just to the top of a fence?"
"And then what? We can't risk opening a hole and jumping out. It's too far. Plus, we couldn't get back into the tree."
"There's no way to ‘sing dead wood?"
"No, because the magic uses the tree's life force. Dead wood has none, or else it wouldn't be dead."
"Maybe they'll let you in. I'll try to find your parents, and bring them to a certain tree. Then, we could talk from there."
"No, still too risky. Wait, I'm getting an idea."
Mecora found herself holding her breath, waiting for the idea.
"I think I can get a tree to force a hole in the fence. And we can go in at night. I will need you to go in now, to find them while there's still sunlight, then tell them to come to the nearest tree. Then, I need you to show me which tree to come to."
"Okay. Now, how do I get in."
"You're a dark. Why couldn't you go in?"
"They might say it's dangerous for me. Or maybe the King said no visitors. The King did seem to want us to not mix."
"Well, do something. There isn't much daytime left."
"Right. Wish me luck."
Spreak reached out to take her hand in his. "Good luck."
The touch surprised her, but Mecora was already thinking out what to say. She stepped away from the hole, and marched right up to the gate. "Hi. Can I come in?"
"What?" asked the gatekeeper incredulously.
"Can I come in? There's some friends in there I want to see."
"You have lightie friends?!" Chuckles came from up above.
"Yeah. You know, two months ago, that wasn't a crime, and its no burning crime now. So you better let me in! I'm still a subject of the King, after all!"
More chuckles were followed by her answer. "Sure, why not?" The gate swung open, to reveal a small, empty space fronted by more of the wooden wall.
"No, I mean all the way in!"
"You don't think we'd just open up both doors at the same time, do you?! Come in the first door, and when it's closed, we'll open the second door. Got it?"
"Got it." Mecora didn't really trust their word, but figured that if they were to capture her, they'd probably just keep her in the camp with everyone else. Only she had a rescuer. With a collecting of her bravery, she marched into the small space.
The main gates closed. A moment passed. Finally, the gates before her opened. Inside was a scene she could never have imagined.
A city— on the ground! Free-standing houses, people milling about on earth worn bare by thousands of feet. There was commerce going on here, bartering much like back home in Kelwome. A cloud of dust from those feet rose into the air above the houses, whitewashing the normal green of a dense forest.
All these Vle... in a city possibly even bigger than Dronac itself! Mecora felt a wave of despair wash over her. How was she ever to find Spreak's parents in all this?!
Suddenly, a pair of arms caught her. "Whoa, what's the matter?" asked a friendly female voice.
"I came.. I came to find my friends, but... but..."
"Oh, we've created a registry. Lots of Vle want to find their friends and family when they arrive. Come with me." The relatively plump woman with unusually dark blond hair put her arm around Mecora's shoulder and led her to the nearest house on the right. On the way, she introduced herself as Lara'i. Inside, they passed between a few bunk beds, and arrived at one converted into a desk. A small lamp sat on it, and boxes of paper with tags sticking out. Above, on the wall, a sign said something about a fee.
"Uh... will this cost me?"
"Oh, for you? Probably not. Most people who come here are without money, too, and there is no money in here, anyway. We charge a small percentage of a person's first profit if they're new, but I imagine you'll get to leave."
"I hope so."
"So, who are you looking for?"
Mecora was about to say Mereo and Ueal, but realized that she only had a certain amount of time before Spreak would be looking for her. What had he thought it would be so easy in this mess? "Well, actually, I don't know their names. See, I met this light Vle named Spreak, and he somehow got away when his family was captured, but they're not from Larmania. They're from Varmacia."
"We have quite a few Varmacian nationals. What else do you know of them?"
Mecora tried to think over what else Spreak had told her, but he really hadn't said much. "Well, his father can treesing. He has a sister who's older, and a younger brother."
"Well, that's a good start. We have a listing by skill, too. It will take some work, but we just need to cross-reference—"
"Cross what?"
"Cross reference. It means I'm going to look at my listing of treesingers for Varmacian men, and then look up all those names for ones who have a daughter and a son, and might be expecting another son to arrive. We light Vle are very organized, you know."
"I know. My friend, Mereo, used to arrange her clothes by color."
"Perfect example! Now, let me see..."
Mecora waited while the woman searched the files. When her feet got tired, she sat on the nearest bunk; before long, she was lying down and dreaming.
Next thing she knew, she was pulled out of a gentle dream by an equally gentle shaking. "Mecora? I've found them."
"You did? How do I get there?"
"We have guides. And since it's late and I'd have to pay them, I'll guide you myself."
Mecora realized it was already dark. "Oh my gosh! Spreak will be worried! Or angry."
"Sorry, but these things take time."
"I know. And at least you're here to help. I really appreciate this."
"No problem. Now let's go find your friend's family."
The haphazard layout of the camp served to get Mecora entirely lost in just a few minutes. How could anyone find their way around here? she wondered. Maybe it was part of the King's plan- overwhelm the Vle when they arrived, perhaps? She longed for the simple tree-centric plan of a normal town.
Finally, Lara'i stopped at a house, totally indistinguishable from the others Mecora had seen so far, and knocked.
A woman came to the door. "Oh, hi, Lara'i! Are you working so late?"
"Yes, a special case. I'm here for the family of Spruoit Annardem."
The woman at the door turned her head and yelled for Spruoit. "Is it his son?"
"Well, no," Lara'i replied with a smile.
A large man took the place in the door. "What do you mean?"
Lara'i indicated Mecora, motioning her to step up and introduce herself. "My name is Mecora. Spreak appeared in my town one day, and we've been... living in trees ever since."
"Is he here? Now?"
"He's up in the trees still, waiting. He has a plan to get you out of here, actually."
"If he means to treesing us out, I'm afraid they have fencing to prevent that..."
"He said he thought he could get the tree to poke a hole in the fence somehow. Anyway, he's up there, now, waiting for me to show him which tree to come to. He wanted me to show him in the daylight, but..."
"Well, we'd better go, then." He turned inside. "Alinna, tell my family Spreak is here and I'm going to see him, will you?" Then, he turned to Lara'i. "Since Mecora here can't pay you, I'll cover your costs. What was the fee? One percent?"
"Oh, Spruoit, I won't take anything for this. I decided that when I met her."
Spreak's father seemed on the edge of arguing the point, but he shook his head. "We'll discuss it later. Let's go to the nearest tree, Mecora."
"Thank you so much, Lara'i!" said Mecora, energized by the thought of the reunion to come, and her part in it. Then, she looked for the nearest tree, and headed there.
Said tree wasn't too far, but even so she doubted she'd be able to get back to Spruoit's house. And once there, it was a matter of waiting. How long would it take Spreak to find them in the dark?
Not as long as she thought. She and Spreak's father hadn't even quite run out of conversation (discussing what she and Spreak had been doing since they'd met) when some odd crackling sounds came from behind them. They turned, and watched as small holes, arranged in a circle about 15 hands wide, were formed in the fence. Finally, the piece simply fell out. Spruoit caught it, and let it down gently so as not to make a sound. There, behind it, was Spreak.
Mecora stepped back and let the reunion run its course, only belatedly remembering to look around for trouble. But, it being night time, few people were out, and not even one dark soldier could be seen. Not that she could see very far.
The conversation heated up, and she turned her attention back to it, even as she continued to watch. "What do you mean, you can't come?"
"Spreak, think a moment. We may be trapped, but if we were to leave, even if we're not caught, there will always be the danger. What are the chances we could get to the border without getting caught? And how in the forest would we cross the battle lines safely?"
Spreak didn't respond right away. "I guess you're right. But I can't join you."
"I know, son. I know. At least we know you're okay. We will get out someday."
"I'm going to make sure of it. Come on, Mecora."
Mecora wasn't expecting to be addressed. "What?"
"Come on, we have to go now."
"Well... I thought we could stay in the house tonight. Something other than a tree for a change."
"But what are the chances we could get back out in the morning? The longer we stay, the more likely we'll be discovered."
"Spreak, I'm beginning to hate it when you're right." She sighed. "Okay, well, it's been nice meeting you, Mr. Annardem. I hope you all get out soon."
He chuckled. "If my son has anything to say about it, it'll be tomorrow morning. Good night, and may the Great Redeemer watch over you."
"Good bye," she said, and climbed into the tree. Spruoit put the fence section back even as Spreak sang the hole shut. As quietly as they could, they tree hopped away from the camp to sleep for the night.

Girl

2009-09-08T06:54:00.001-06:00

The days slipped by, mired in a routine intended to keep their minds off the outside world. Wake, gather fruits for breakfast, fish for lunch, maybe swim or climb a tree, hunt for dinner, stare into the campfire, curl into their treehole. Day after day they did this, and Mecora had the sense that this should have been the best time of their lives (it was such a carefree style of existence!), but of course the outside world wouldn't leave their minds. Mom and family were gone from both of them, a big question mark on whether or not they'd ever see their respective families again.
With only words of the business at hand spoken, the days slipped by. Only the weather provided a change, though it was never cold enough to affect their routine, and the rain didn't matter.
One hot afternoon Mecora waded into the lake, but like other days, it afforded little pleasure. As she settled to sit on the bottom, turned her head to look back at Spreak, fishing from the shore. "Why do I bother?"
"Bother to what?"
"Swim. It's not fun."
"Because it's cooler than being out of the water?"
"I don't even care any more."
"Habit, then."
"Hard to believe I have a habit that most Vle wouldn't come close to doing." "You mean, Vle that you know."
"Light Vle swim a lot?"
"No, just Vle that live near water. My parents have a home overloooking a lake. We even have a rope that swings way out over the water, and we jump off it." "Sounds like fun."
"It was."
"I'd like to go there sometime."
"Me too."
It was clear to Mecora that Spreak didn't think he'd ever get home. And then she realized something. "Why don't you go?"
"What?"
"Why don't you just go home? You have relatives there, at least."
"I don't want to just abandon my family here!"
"Well, how would going home be different than just sitting on our duffs here?" Spreak stared into thin air a moment. "Mecora, you're right."
"I'm right? We're going to your home?"
"No! We're going to the camp."
"What in the burning forest do you think we're going to do there?"
"I dunno. Maybe we can at least find out if my family is alive."
"But there will be guards all over! As soon as you show your lily face, they'll arrest you!"
"Maybe that's preferable to being stuck out here, living a humdrum existence." Mecora felt a bit of insult at that, the idea that life with her was boring, but realized it wasn't meant that way. "And just what am I supposed to do?"
"Join my mother."
"Okay, and just how do you propose we do that? We don't know where the camp is or how far away it is."
"We can ask."
"Well, you can't. But I can. Maybe, if we travel along the road, I can find someone to ask."
"Maybe so. But I can't travel on the road with you." "Could you shadow me in the trees above? You can watch over me. It's dangerous to travel a road alone."
"For a young girl like you? Yes, it is. Shall we?"
"Let's."
Hand in hand, they went to their treehole, to go via branch nets to the nearest road. Though it was the major road across the kingdom, the road by Kelwome was not very busy. Mecora realized just how much of the road traffic before the war began had been army. They did pass some wagons full of ore.
Spreak whistled, and she looked to her right. Spreak had a hole in the tree open, and was beckoning her. "There's a phalanx of trolls up ahead!"
"Trolls?! Trolls have taken over this much of the country?!"
"I doubt it, but why else would they be here?" He closed the hole and sang them up to a same watching position. Below, the trolls trundled down the road, taking up the entire space between the trees. Even from their perch in the second canopy they could smell the unwashed humanoids. "Their weapons sure look strange."
"Those aren't weapons. They're mining tools. Your King must be desperate." "He's no king of mine."
"No, I suppose not."
They waited out the parade of trolls, letting them pass over the next low hill before returning to the ground.

Another day passed, and they arrived at a major fork in the road. The sign pointed to Hame to the left, and Dronac to the right, but neither of them had ever heard of Hame. So, they waited for someone (hopefully not a troll) to come along.
The wait wasn't long before a small coach came rumbling along the right-hand fork. Mecora didn't know it it would work, but she stepped out into the middle and waved her arms. The coach did slow, the driver looking nervously about. "How can we help you, miss?"
"I just want to know which way to where the light Vle are being kept."
The driver looked disdainfully down his nose. "And why should you want to go there?"
"My friends are there."
"Friends?! Hmph! Very well. Take the road I just came down, and follow it past Dronac. You won't fail to notice the camp."
"It's that easy?"
"It's that easy. Happy travels," the driver said with a shake of the reins. The horses resumed their work.
"Happy travels to you, too, sir," she replied, but she doubted the driver heard. She turned to look at the tree where Spreak hid. "That way," she pointed, and started up the road.
He opened the hole. "Wait! Don't you think we should wait overnight? It's getting dark."
"I suppose you're right. I'm hungry all of a sudden. Do we have anything left over?"
"No, and the hunt will be difficult near such a large road. The game will be wary."
"Well, if we only have fruits tonight, it won't harm us."
"You want to sleep tonight, right? Otherwise, my growling stomach will keep us awake." He stepped out, and trekked into the dense forest to start the hunt.

On foot, the capital of Larmania was a very long journey. Mecora tried to imagine the same trip made with her family and some of her friends, dogged by mounted Vle behind, weighted down by push wagons ahead.
"What's wrong?" asked Spreak from a tree.
"What do you mean?"
"Your head's low, you're shuffling your feet, and you're going about five trees per hour."
"Oh, I was just imagining what it must have been like for Mereo and Ueal and everybody."
"From the looks of it, you've succeeded. But we're on a mission. We'll never get there at this rate."
"Oh, right, sorry."

2009-09-08T06:53:00.002-06:00

The next morning, Hyran woke before sunrise. It was an auspicious day already— rain! With a spring in his step and a folded barkpot in his hand, he took the lift down to the first level, and went to the west edge of town. As he'd guessed, there was an extension of the platform along the edge of the forest, looking out at the bare hill where the royal palace stood. Hyran shook his head at the magnificent alienness of the thing. Built entirely of stone. Though its carved details evoked treesung structures even from this distance, the grey color and the open sky behind seemed to proclaim its oddity, its unnaturalness. Much like the very proclamation issued there.
"Morning," said a voice behind him, and Hyran turned to see a youngish Vle, huddled against the cool morning rain. "I must be in the right place. Are we actually going to meet in this weather?"
"Rain is a gift, my friend. It provides us with the trees and our food. What better weather to greet us on such an important day?" "If you say so." The rain did delay everyone's arrival. Hyran had intended to get the protest going by midmorning, but it was noon before most everyone actually showed up. Some uniformed Vle also stood warily by.
Hyran put the barkpot down and stood on it, making him head and shoulders taller than everyone. "My friends! It has come down to us. Twice our movement has met the King's troops, intent on silencing our message, but here we stand before the King's window! We are here to tell him that his policy is wrong! Say hear hear!"
"Hear hear!" the crowd responded.
"It is time to face the facts- that his proclamation has placed our great nation's very survival in jeopardy! Hear hear!"
"Hear hear!"
"The King must reverse his decision or face the loss of a kingdom, the loss of a great era!"
"Hear hear!"
"We will protest here every morning until he heeds our call!"
"Hear hear!"
The troops, which had grown in number during his speech, finally moved, to surround them. Thus Hyran knew it was his turn to join his comrades in the camp. The troops escorted them efficiently to the lifts and down to the ground. As they set out, north again but no longer under free will, Hyran wondered how long it would be until his pace turned sluggish. Then he realized it didn't have to. His head up, he looked forward with as much confidence as he could, and made each step count.
On foot, the camp was most of a day's walk away. The soldiers weren't particularly mean, just insistent enough that many in the group did lose their spirit. Hyran wished he could say something, or sing, to lift their spirits, but the soldiers strongly discouraged any self-expression.

The second day was dark. The tiny patches of sky visible above were not light blue but rather a purplish grey. On they pushed through the nearly lightless forest, past towns with all their glow-worms lit up. Eventually, they neared the camp— Hyran knew they were close not by sight, but by hearing. Roughly two million Vle manage to make quite a sound. The road passed a tree and branched— and there was a wall rivaling the one surrounding Dronac. The difference: Only one platform could be seen above, and that was on a tree outside the wall. The troops brought them right up to the gate. "Ho! We bring sympathizers!" called the commander. "Enter and be counted," replied the gatekeeper, and the gate swung toward them. But instead of the scene of cramped living conditions that Hyran expected to see, there was instead another wall. Prodded, he and the others moved in.
The gate shut behind them, and then another gate in front of them opened out into the camp. Now there was a scene: ground dwellings, and Vle milling about, doing business. It was a pleasant surprise, really: those he saw were healthy, and he saw many straight backs, even a number of smiles. The new arrivals weren't permitted to just roam freely yet, though. A young man officiously strode out of a hut beside the wall, quill, tablet and three-legged stool in hand. "Ah, more sympathizers, I see. Very well!" He put down the stool, stepped on it, and the troops pressed in closer. Hyran shifted his weight from one foot to the other, earning him an evil eye; So it was apparently that he and the other newcomers were to stay still.
"Sixty-four!" pronounced the counter, and stepped down to return to the hut. With that, the troops broke away and went out the gate, which swung shut behind him.
"Welcome," said a female voice. Hyran turned to see the plumpish light Vle who addressed them. "My name is Lara'i. Normally, another woman would be here to welcome you, but she's busy with another group.
"We were told you're light Vle sympathizers, and we very much appreciate your support. While we're sorry you had to come here, we are happy to have the chance to meet you. If any of you are particularly attached to someone, we will try to make sure you are accommodated together, but we can't make any guarantees. We are very near capacity. "If there is someone in here you'd like to find, you may come to me at any time and ask me to find them for you, for we have records on everybody who has passed through these gates. There is no upfront fee, but we do ask a percentage of your first profit from whatever position you take here. Any questions? No? Okay, let's go check you in."
The process was very much like entering the army, Hyran noted. He gave his name, height, former profession, and other skills. They issued him bedsheets and a house number. Finally, there was a guide to take him and a group to their houses.
Along the way, Hyran marveled at the what the light Vle had: in a matter of weeks, they had built one of the world's biggest cities. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their placement; he got entirely confused after passing just five or so houses. Since there were no actual commercial buildings, Vle were trading goods with each other right in front of their houses. As if an answer from the Creator, his wondering what they did in the rain was followed by the beginning of a shower. Quickly and efficiently, the products were gathered and taken inside.
The rest of the group hurried too, forcing him to hurry so he wouldn't get lost. Or too muddy: the denuded forest floor quickly turned soft. Rain he enjoyed; mud he didn't. But the people at the house he was shown to had a warm foot bath waiting at the door, making for an unusual but warm welcome.

The next day, Hyran sat on his bed, discussing the appalling internment of foreigners with three of his bunk neighbors and the foreigner in question. "So, how many are there in your fami-" He broke off when a knock came at the door. The house president, a woman named Aliana, answered it before any of the men could stand. "Mayor!" she exclaimed. "It is an honor and a privilege."
"Oh, Aliana, please. I've told you you may call me Yis at any time. Now, I understand there is a dark Vle named Hyran here?"
"That's me," Hyran volunteered. "Nice to meet you, Spruoit," he said by way of excusing himself. Nearing the door, he asked, "What can I do for you?" The light Vle with a regal bearing motioned Hyran to come outside. "I understand you've been leading groups to protest the King's policy."
Hyran stepped into the light, and breathed in the aroma of a freshly washed forest. Vle of various sizes raked the ground, smoothing out the ruts and footprints made during the rain.
"Well, I was. I got away from the troops once, but wasn't so lucky this time. I just wish I knew if I made a difference."
"Well, it did make a difference to us. When news of your gathering in Dronac reached us, it raised spirits considerably. We now know people out there care about us." "Glad I could be of service," Hyran said humbly, "though it didn't get you freedom."
"No, but the Queen noticed. I got a note from her. It would have been better if the Prince had been around to see your demonstration, but at least one royal saw."
"Stop it, you're discouraging me."
"Oh, sorry!" Yis smiled. "We still appreciate the effort. What did you do before your campaign?"
"I was a monk, at Kelwome. But the vow of political non-interference got in the way."
"Were you excommunicated?"
"Eventually, by the Representative when I got to see him."
"Hyran, the prince must know about this. Would you come with me and recite your story? I'll send the message to the castle post haste."
"If you think it would help, sure."

Hyran re-entered the camp accompanied by a dark soldier after writing his ‘story.' It felt somewhat immodest to write it, and he hoped he didn't compensate too much by making it dry and very factual. (Even he had yawned while writing it.)
Once inside again, he realized there was no way he would find his house. But, luckily, there was Lara'i again, seated near the building where they'd been processed the previous night. He went over to her, noticing the sign behind her: Friend and Family Finders. That's what he'd meant to do today!
"Lara'i, I need to find a friend. Allega."
"Certainly. Come with me."

2009-09-08T06:53:00.001-06:00

With another real breakfast inside him and a fresh batch of Exian-style trinkets in his pocket, Hyran headed for the north end of town again. Butterflies fluttered, disturbing said breakfast— would he find another set of troops surrounding another set of protesters?
But as he reached the northernmost lift, he could see below that there was (as yet) no reason to be worried. Nine Vle, three of them women, stood on the road below, looking about. By the time he joined them, two more were approaching.
Hyran introduced himself to all before giving his spirit speech. "I thank you for being here this morning. Now, some of you may be worried about the risk of being arrested for treason. I assure you that this is not treason, but I'll be honest— there is no guarantee we won't be arrested. WE are here to be loud, and to be heard, and to be noticed. How else are we to get the King's attention? He must be made aware of his error! And we are going to tell him!"
The small crowd gave a hurrah, and all turned north with a spirited step. Town after town. Along the way, Hyran explained what to do in each town.
"We'll split up, and go into all the inns and pubs. Talk to the bartender or whoever might listen to you. The more open a person is, the better. You might not actually recruit that person, but anyone in earshot will know of our plans. Now, I caution you: Do not just start with an explanation of our intentions. Find an angle. Look for some discontent with the way things are. Then bring them into the fold, almost as if we're a big secret. BUT the more people hear of it, the less they'll want it to stay a secret! We want to be open, so encourage the spreading of the news."
"But what if someone doesn't like what we're saying?" asked one, who was slight and graying with age. Hyran guessed him to be about 90 years old.
"Then apologize and move away. There's no sense in getting hurt, and there are other people to talk to. Still, we never know who we might meet, do we? This is a dangerous business.
"But necessary."
The next town was equally ‘productive.' With the help of the protesters, the town was covered fairly quickly. And they were anxious, too- one of the women asked him, "So, when do we move on to the next town?"
"Tomorrow."
"Why not today? Shouldn't we move as fast as possible?"
"No. For one thing, moving faster would probably alert the authorities faster. We want to get to the palace, or as near as possible, before that happens. Plus, half our complaint is that this rounding-up now apparently extends to dark Vle. It makes sense to not move too far ahead of them, so that we have proof when the time comes."
The next morning, Hyran had a pleasant surprise: Among the 41 Vle gathered, five wore the robes of Redemption clergy, including a (ex?)monk! With gusto, he introduced himself, and watched the clergymen's expression. He delighted in their surprise and recognition... until he chided himself for losing his modesty. Oh Great Master, please deliver me through this time of trial, so that I may once again return to the ideals you have laid out for us!, he prayed.
Then, with flourish, he stepped north, the pack of protesters behind him.
They hit three more towns before trouble caught up with them. One morning, Hyran was dismayed to see about 2/3 of the now 67 protesters surrounded by troops. Hyran knew the pattern (arrive in town, announce the morning gathering openly, meet on the north end of town at daybreak) was a bit of a problem. But this time, he didn't hide and watch. He knew a number of the protesters were still up on deck, so he merely stood by the lift, and caught the faces he knew. Those others were able to catch some of the recruits from the day before.
"The risk we take," Hyran announced. "The risk we live with, for the privilege of delivering our message. The King either doesn't know about this, or he doesn't care about his own people. My friends, our mission's importance increases with each arrest! Now, I caution you: Let us not make it obvious that we are in any way connected with those being marched north, lest our movement die. Let us march forth!"
Even as the arrested were being marched north, the remaining third filed onto lifts to begin their journey. It took a league to catch up with and pass the march, because the spirits of those arrested were still high, but the passing went without a hitch.
The crusade went on.
By the time they reached the gates of Dronac, Hyran's group once again numbered in the sixties. Understandably, the gatekeepers seemed a bit concerned as they passed through under their watchful eyes.
Hyran couldn't help but gape with the others. No less than 20 trees, with as many as eight levels each, made up the capital city. Hyran was anxious to get up and examine the architecture. "Let's spilt up here," he suggested. "Take a different lift, so we're not all waiting for one lift. Spread throughout, and do the same as always. We'll meet on the palace observation platform, lowest level, unless you hear from me otherwise. Good luck!"
His heart pounded as he stepped onto the lift nearest him. Security would be tight here, but this was also where they could make the biggest splash for the King to see. Would they be allowed to splash the next morning?
To his gratification, there was a map of the lowest level next to the lift landing. He studied it for a while, marveling at its complexity. He looked around, wondering at the differences between the architecture here and back in Kelwome. (His heart panged with that thought.) Here, the structures had darkened with age, and were considerably rougher, less finished, bulkier. Window frames were simple circles, without crossbeams. Houses were also just ‘sung out without a plan, sometimes with lots of space between them, sometimes with four stacked in what would be an unsteady pile, had they been standing free.
But there was work to be done. With a lump in his throat, he headed for the first pub he saw, with only a red tree on its sign.

Monk

2009-09-08T06:34:00.001-06:00

Exians led.
The ‘free the light Vle' crusaders followed.
The soldiers took up the rear on horseback.
And to Hyran's relief, those soldiers hadn't looked back for nine leagues. He didn't really have a plan, he realized. Was he really just going to plod along at this mind-numbing pace, only to arrive at the walls of the camp with nothing more to do?
But for another nine leagues or so, the answer was yes. He shadowed them in every way. When they stopped to let the soldiers eat, Hyran ate from the rations he'd bought with all the trinkets he had. At night, Hyran camped within sight of their campfire, but didn't build one of his own. When they stopped for nature calls, Hyran even took the same opportunity.
Another night came, and the troops prodded their mob into the forest. Hyran pitched his tent, Exian style, almost by rote. Then, he pulled out some more of his rations, growing more and more meager by the league. Thoughtlessly, he took a bite.
Boredom. He was down, and it was because of boredom.
He realized just how alive he'd felt, going from town to town, debating with bartenders and barflies over the King's folly. He was doing something! There was hope!
So, why not go out and find that again?
When he woke, it was still dark, and not a sound came from the small encampment nearby. Quietly, he struck camp and headed north.

He eased onto the stool at the first inn he spotted in the first town he arrived at. (He hadn't even checked out the name.)
"What'll it be?" asked the bartender, a youngish looking guy with a crooked smile.
"Breakfast. I broke camp early this morning."
"Breakfast is gruel," was the reply. "Hope ya like it."
"It's fine."
From a medium-size pot hung over the fire, the bartender ladled up a generous serving. "Normally, I'd ask, ‘What news of the road?', but I imagine you didn't run into anyone so early."
"Well, I did see something odd. I'm sure you're used to light Vle marches coming through."
"Yeah. I thought they were all rounded up."
"I wouldn't know about that, but this time everyone being marched was dark."
"Dark?! What in the burning forest? The King isn't content to wage war on half his subjects, but has to wage war on all of them?!"
"I talked to the troops, who explained that these were Vle who were openly protesting the King's will. And creating a public nuisance." Hyran had no idea if that's how the troops would have put it, had he actually asked, but it sounded good.
The bartender lowered his voice. "I wish I knew a way to get that idiot off the throne."
"Actually, I was thinking we could do something to at least change his mind. Maybe those dark Vle being marched to the camp had the right idea."
"Pfft! It can't be the right idea if they got caught!"
"If enough people know about this, and get angry enough to make a nuisance, he'll have to do something, right? We're fighting a war- he can't spare the troops to quench a country-wide riot, right?"
"Good point! Let's spread the word."
Hyran smiled. His life had a purpose again.

Change of site

2009-09-07T06:38:00.004-06:00

Sorry for the lack of updates. I've been reworking this project to more of a webcomic style, rather than a blog style. I think it'll work better, even though it's more work.
And it's going live on Tuesday, Sept. 8th! http://proclamation.webs.com/
But if by chance, you've read this far, keep reading. Tomorrow I'll post the pieces I should have posted the last two weeks, and go ahead and finish here.
Hope you've enjoyed it!
Kevin

2009-08-13T06:55:00.001-06:00

When the sun once again kissed the treetops, the spy rose and pulled out some more of his rations. “You really don’t trust me, do you? You were awake all night. Under present circumstances, I guess I could understand.”
Taréz still didn’t respond, but shook the fuzziness out of his head. A few his own rations, and he felt ready for the day.
Well, almost. For a normal day, maybe, but not this day.
They put on their tree claws again, but while Taréz was ready to go down the outside of the tree, the spy sang a few notes. A hole formed in the bark, just as Taréz had seen him do a few days before.
But he wasn’t quite sure of being inside a tree alone with an enemy of the state. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll use the conventional route.”
“Oh, by the Great Master! Buy a clue! You’re much easier to kill going down than inside a tree! What am I going to do inside that I couldn’t have done already?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the problem.”
“You can’t follow me if you’re outside and I’m inside. Come on, don’t be stupid.”
“Very well.” Taréz followed the spy into the hole. They moved up, and crossed a number of branch nets, and finally moved inside a hole again to go back down. Carefully, the spy opened the hole, and, deciding it was safe, made it large enough to get out of. They dropped low to a branch net, and looked down.
Tents were less than practical in the dense forest, but camouflaged tarps were unbiquitous. Their pattern of leaf shapes just didn’t quite match the real-life pattern, and couldn’t obscure the sharp edge of the tarps themselves. Good enough to hide from third canopy eyes, but not second canopy. Still, it was impossible to tell the Chief’s tarp. “How do you know this is command central?”
“Watch.”
The watching lasted some moments. Just before Taréz ran out of patience, a dark Vle walked smartly up to the tarp below, and saluted before heading under it. “Ah. Troops wouldn’t salute at their own tent.”
“Details, details.”
“Is our Chief really that full of himself? He hammers on the details all the time.”
“If lack of attention to detail is an indication, then yes, I’d say he is.”
Then, to Taréz’s amazement, an Vle in a colorful robe stepped out. He raised his arms, and chanted in a language Taréz had never heard before. But it was haunting, beautiful, full of impure vowels and fricative consonants. He looked over at his ‘partner.’
“See...?” said the spy, eyes half-mast. His grip on their branch net loosened.
Taréz considered reaching out to grab him, but he couldn’t. Not in light of his decision the previous night. Instead, he just watched as the spy fell from their perch, the haunting chant like a narrative as he fell to the ground.
Only instinct told Taréz to hurry to the top canopy at top speed.
Away from that encampment.
Away from that illegal, immoral mage.
Away from the Vle he’d resolved to kill.

2009-08-12T04:22:00.004-06:00

Taréz stood on a high hill over looking a broad meadow. He felt exposed, but he knew he was safe. Below, a battle raged, the red forces vastly outnumbered by theirs in the various blue, purple and yellow of the western kingdoms. It would have been beautiful if not for the fact that the red forces were battling to perserve his throne.
But the sounds were not beautiful. They never were. Elfmen were not meant to scream, but scream they did on both sides as they suffered mortal wounds. Beneath the screams was the clank of metal on metal, a random jumble of sounds
          that slowly became
                    more insistent,
                              regular
                                        and singular.
As he awoke, he realized that the clanging was the announcement of the approach of a rider. How long had the sun been up? He rolled his head to look at Pimber, but she wasn’t there. No surprise; she probably slipped away to her coach to head for the inn under cover of darkness.
It wasn’t very light outside. He pulled aside the covers and got out of bed. “Iyo?”
A rather short Vle entered the room with the royal robe. “Good morning, Sire. Did the bell wake you?”
“Yes, but it’s just as well. My dream was going sour. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, Sire. Stecky is bringing a message to your father.”
“Hmm. News at this time of the morning is never good.” He went out the door toward his father’s chambers. Halfway there, Stecky came up the stairs. “What’s the news?”
“Good news, Sire. Gardric sent a report about his engagement with the humans.”
“Oh?” He followed the acting chamberlain into the room.
“Good news at this time of the morning?” asked the King. “Let us see.”
Stecky handed the scroll to the King, and Taréz read over his father’s shoulder.

Your Majesty,
I am pleased to report my success in repelling the humans. Their strategy had been to harry our coast with ships, and the large boomers mounted on them. The sea is quite shallow some distance out on both sides of the bottleneck, so I commandeered some merchant ships and attacked theirs by night. Their mission: to capture some of the boomers and leave the human ships in ruins. Success on both measures! I then had the boomers brought to the bottleneck.
I also loaded our forces on the commandeered ships and sailed to the western and eastern shores of the bottleneck, where the soldiers disembarked and attacked. Though outnumbered, we won by using the boomers against the rear of the human forces. We were thus able to prevent reinforcements from joining the battle.
I expect to have the peninsula retaken within two weeks.
Your Servant,
Gardric

“Well, the only thing worse than a Gardric is a Gardric with recent victories to brag about! I wonder how instrumental his secret weapon was.”
“It probably wasn’t,” answered Taréz. “It could be that those ‘boomers’ Gardric mentioned were a very good tool to use from outside the range of our secret weapon. That would then be threat number one.”
“So, maybe now that we have weapons, we won’t need the secret weapon?”
“That’s a good thought. I’m glad I’m leaving today.”
“So am I.”

Once again, Taréz found himself near the peninsula. But he had further to go this time; rumors he heard put the battle line anywhere from ten to forty leagues south of the narrowest point of the isthmus. This time, he rode into Hume. That would allow him to walk the main road south, quizzing whomever he might find going the opposite way. Plus, Gardric had mentioned sea battles in the message; maybe Taréz could watch a few.
But neither panned out. He saw no ships at all, and there wasn’t a soul on what should have been a very busy road. He’d expected the battle to reduce traffic, but not so completely!
Then he remembered that the territory he was walking in was more than 80% light Vle, and that most of them were already at the camp.
The sound of thunder was his first clue of his approach to a battle, this time. Since the sky was cloudless, he reasoned that he was hearing the ‘boomers’. Still, he continued on the road for another two leagues before heading into the forest.
He had a different reconnaissance plan this time. When he felt he was as close to the battlegreound as he dared get, he chose a tree. In his pack was a set of tree cleats, which he strapped to his hands and feet. Spread eagle, he headed up the chosen tree.
The trees over the battlefield would be crawling with spies, but only at the second canopy. He would need to be at the third canopy to be relatively safe. Fit as he was, he was breathing heavily by the time he got up that high. The next step was much more time consuming: Finding the command center. On his last foray, he’d walked right past it and never did find it. This time at least, he knew he was still behind it.
The branches overlapped well here, he noted, to his benefit. He started searching in a spiral pattern, always looking out for other Vle. If he met any at this level, he’d know he was close. And, sure enough, he did see an Vle on the ninth tree.
A light Vle.
That was significant. A dark Vle up at this level would be looking for counterspies trying to get around the second canopy spies. The humans weren’t known to be aware of the tree spying tactic, however, plus their physical form made climbing trees next to impossible for them. So, finding a human up here would be unlikely. But the presence of the light Vle meant that they were aware of the tactic.
He spotted another light Vle in the adjacent tree, but what the first lightie did surprised him: he came around to the prince’s side of the tree and hid.
Taréz crept up the tree toward the hiding Vle, who seemed unaware of the approach. Then came another surprise: with a few soft vocal notes, the bark of the tree opened. The hiding Vle further ensconced himself in the hole, and then the hole closed.
Taréz froze. A treesinger. Conceivably, the light Vle could move the hole to where the prince perched, open the hole, and attack! Three hundred heartbeats later, however, no attack had come, and he felt safe again. He looked around carefully, and, seeing no evidence of the second light Vle, he continued his spiral pattern.
The sound of battle began to fade with the light in the forest. Far above him, the sun still lit the highest leaves, but on the ground below, it was getting difficult to see. So, Taréz headed upward to the very highest canopy. There, he slung his tent and sleeping bag, to wait out the night.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about curious humans in the early morning.

He woke with the sun, long before any of the light reached the ground. But, as was the pattern, the battle had already begun. Quickly, and without breakfast, he struck his hanging camp and headed down. Right then would be best time to see the secret weapon at work, if he was lucky. He continued his spiral pattern.
There were no spies at first, but as his oppportunity slipped by, he did come across some. Mostly, they preferred to remain as hidden as the the prince himself.
He also noted that the spiral was getting very ineffective at the north end, and even less effective at the south end. So, he adjusted it, so that he was now traveling in ovals, going a little bit further south each time.
Still nothing.
When the sun was at its northernmost point, he finally decided to take a break. This he did in the fourth canopy. It was a simple meal of dried thaleberries and rabbit jerky, but it sufficed to quiet his stomach.
Just as he was repacking his backpack, a hole in the tree opened.
He froze.
The light Vle inside came out, almost cavlierly. “I’ve been watching you,” he began.
“That is what spies do.”
“Yes. But I found your behavior interesting. Trained spies don’t move in patterns.”
“I was pressed into service.” Taréz maintained calm in his voice, but couldn’t keep out the skepticism. If he was so predictable, why didn’t this light Vle kill him? In a forest battle, it wasn’t unusual to see a spy come crashing to the ground, dead.
“I don't think so. I think you’re a counterspy, of some sort. You’re looking for something.”
“What is it to you?”
“I was thinking we might work together.”
“Sorry, I’m not a traitor.”
“No, but you don’t hate light Vle. You don’t kill them.”
Taréz refused to be prodded for information. “Again, I ask, What is it to you?”
“I want to find out why our troops can’t fight for more than two hours without getting lethargic. To do that, I have to find command central. And you’re searching for that, as well.”
Right then Taréz wished he hadn’t been the only person available for the job. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you for a spy.”
“Because you're untrained. You need my help, however loyal you wish to be.”
Burn it! This Vle was good. “And if I’m so untrained, what help can I be?”
“You can identify who’s who.”
“You know you’re asking too much. You’ll just return with assassins.”
The light Vle didn’t respond at first, which was all the affirmation Taréz needed.
“What if you only identify the mage for me?”
“The what?!” Tarez's eyes felt as if they were popping out. How much did the light elves know, how did they know, and most of all, that a mage existed among the dark Vle...
“Oh, come now, you can’t tell me you don’t know what’s been going on.”
The spy was right. Taréz couldn’t tell him that, even though it was true. “You have a deal.”
“Glad to hear it. Come.”
As Taréz followed, he mulled over what this spy had said. Not that a spy could be trusted, but it fit the facts. Magic! The Great Master himself had proclaimed against its use. While no one was ever stoned for using magic any more, it was illegal, and contrary to all codes of war.
Where would Gardric have found even one mage, let alone enough for every front?!
Taréz was glad for his impatience— for it helped him keep up his ‘partner’s’ pace. Until he actually saw the mage, however the Vle might look, he couldn’t quite believe it to be true.
It was a long path to the command center, especially since the spy refused to travel in even an approximately straight line. Suddenly, as the sunlight began to fade below, the spy stopped. “We’ll camp here and look in the morning.”
“What?! I have a mission to accomplish!”
“Well, you’re not going to accomplish it in the dark.”
“What kind of spy are you? Now’s the perfect time.”
“Wrong! This is the worst time. Their- your- spies get thicker, because they think this is the perfect time. Not to mention all the troops coming back to report, and such. More eyes and ears. By the Great Master are you lucky I came along!”
Taréz couldn’t disagree, but it darkened his heart. There was a prayer to be said, a dilemma to be solved tonight. The spy tried to make whispered conversation, over dinner, but the prince spared no thought for response.
He hardly slept a wink.

Prince

2009-08-11T05:27:00.002-06:00

Back in the royal stable, Taréz finally dismounted, with not a little pain. “Greetings, Your Highness,” said the horsemaster. “Did you get lost?”
Taréz allowed a chuckle. “No, though I did occasionally wonder what I was doing there.”
“He seems to have been well cared for,” said the elder Vle. “You must have paid the stablehand something equaling my salary.”
Always trying for a raise, especially now that there was no promotion left. “Actually, it was ten times as much.” Fight the absurd with absurd. And with that comment, Taréz headed for the castle.
His father was waiting for him at the door, showing uncharacteristic anxiety. “Did you learn anything?”
“Well, yes and no.” Taréz wasn’t sure he should go further in the earshot of the servants.
“Come on up to my chambers and we’ll discuss it.” Turning, the King continued as they walked upstairs. “Was it an easy journey?”
“Very easy. We have a peaceful interior, father. I guess that’s something to thank the Great Master for.”
“Indeed.”
Taréz closed the door to the royal chamber behind them. “I wish I could say I was successful. It was a rather long ride to take for nothing.”
“You said, ‘yes and no,’ so you learned something, right?”
“Yes, though it just deepens the mystery. I actually spent the nights on the battlefield—”
“You what?! That’s insane!”
“It made for dangerous mornings,” Taréz acknowledged with a nod. “But it enabled me to see that the human troops start out just as ready for battle as our troops. But within a few hours of attack, the humans can hardly stand, while our troops are even more robust than when they woke.”
“Almost as if their life force is being stolen.”
Taréz was stunned. How could his father conceive such an idea? It fit the facts... “But what agent would create such an effect?”
“You’ve got to try to find out. Again.”
“Not try. Will. I will find out, Father. Any news of the war effort?”
The King grumbled. “No, but the eastern nobles claim to have broken away. They’re siding with the dwarves, and no longer allowing the trolls through.”
“You don’t mean they’re now aiding the dwarves on that war front?!”
“No, thankfully. We no longer have their troop support in the war effort, but it does mean we have one less war front to fight.”
Stecky tapped on the door as he stepped into the chamber. “Your Majesty, it’s about that time.”
“Ah, yes, I should start my bath. Is the water ready?”
“It will be right about the time you are.”
“Thank you, Stecky. Anything else to report?” Normally, a bath was not in the chamberlain’s scope of duties.
“Yes, Sire. We’ve received confirmations from all the invited guests—”
“Even the eastern nobles?” Taréz interrupted.
Stecky smiled. “Yes, even Pimber will be attending. Also, the orchestra has announced they will doing some original music.”
The King's good mood had returned. “Excellent. Excellent! Stecky! Send a message to Baldia- I think it’s safe for Fylen to come back!” The King bounced as much as such a portly Vle could as he left for the bathing room, leaving his son to chuckle quietly.

Only a few hours later, Taréz watched the jumble of carriages from a new vantage point: Up on the balcony with his father. Below, it seemed as chaotic as it had before the flaming Proclamation. Back then, that would have peeved him a bit, but now he realized the jumble was a little different: There was actually less posturing and more graciousness. He watched more closely, and saw that the only ones posturing with their carriages were the westernmost nobles.
Odd.
Nonetheless, he was tickled and his anticipation for the evening to get under way rose. He headed toward the stairs, to go down and greet the guests. The protocol was a bit different, this time: Instead of a welcome from the stairs, the King would be giving the welcome from the head of the table. So, everyone filed into the dining hall, and waited.
The doors opened. The King stepped in. Everyone, standing, bowed. He walked slowly to the head of the table (at the end of the room). A servant pulled out his chair. He took his spot. “Lords and ladies, I welcome you to this joyous occasion, as we mark the establishment of our hierarchical monarchy.” He picked up his fork. He tapped his wine glass. He sat.
As the most esteemed noble in attendance beside the King, Lord Varabia was obliged to begin the conversation. “So, Your Majesty, when do you expect to let the light Vle out?”
Leave it to Varabia to be direct even with the conversation opener. “Well, as soon as the war is over, I suspect.”
“Will that be soon?”
“By the Great Master, I hope so.”
The Lord of Creaz took his turn. “Do you intend to expand our borders beyond the Western Rib?”
“No,” replied the King, shaking his head sharply. “The last thing I want to do is take on more citizens with a grudge. The rib served as a pretty good border against that grudge before, so I really think we ought to keep it.”
“I hear the Chief intends to extend Larmania all the way to the coast, and thin the population as he goes,” said the Lord of Lacigia.
He was a little early with his turn, but the boldness of such a military move obscured that fact. “No, he won’t go that far. If I have to, I’ll remove him from his position.”
“How far do you intend to go?” Varabia again.
“Well, he has told me that we need to strike out onto the plains somewhat, to show that we’re still strong and not to be trifled with. And given his successes, I think we probably could. Even so, fighting through the mountains would be dangerous, I think.”
“What about Zvalja?”
“The not-so-neutral-after-all former fence-straddlers? I must admit, I don’t know yet. My Librarian is preparing a report on precedence. Not that there is much.”
Taréz looked around the table. It was a tricky thing for a King to say he didn’t know, but some of the most remembered, wise kings of history took time to make their decisions. So maybe the next day his father would actually have his librarian work on such a report, or maybe not. In the meantime, the guests seemed satisfied with his answers and ready to move on to cheerier, lighter subjects. And the matter of the light Vle had just possibly been forgotten completely.
“Your Majesty, may I inquire about another matter?” asked Opar, Lord of Percivi.
“Of course.”
“We’ve had a surprising number of trolls come through, but all had invitational papers. Is there something I don’t know about?”
“Apparently so,” replied the King.
The Lords of Percivi were known to be aloof from the events going on in their holdings, so Taréz knew this to mean there were huge numbers of trolls moving through. And this would really unsettle the people there, given many years of past trouble along that border. “We’re sending them to the mines. It’s a very large part of our financial future— our banks posted new gains just today, in fact. We pay them with the metals they mine, and also buy more weapons.”
“Oh.”
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Hilonia interjected, “but my... meager economic studies tell me that raw materials are far less valuable than the finished product. How can we afford all this?”
“Because one of the metals involved is thale, which we can also sell, and we still have workable gold mines. Those humans love gold, for some reason.”
Most of the nobles chuckled at the irony. Humans still held the peninsula quite strongly... and then they sobered. Neither The Most Reverend Harras, Lord of Kezantopil, nor Thekla, Lord of the Peninsula, could be there that evening.
“Gardric will free the Peninsula from the Humans soon,” the King offered. “At last report, he was bringing his secret strategy to bear on the bottleneck.”
“Do you know the nature of this secret strategy? No intelligence of mine can divine it,” asked Lacigia.
“No, I don’t. If he feels it’s important to keep it a secret, then I’ll let him have the secret until war’s end. His family has been known for the dramatic.”
Taréz kept a smile off his face, so as not to betray his own work to uncover the secret.
“Well,” said Varabia, dropping a cleaned bone onto his plate. “I for one, am worried. But, let’s not let that worry get in the way of a great celebration, shall we?”
“Not at all, Varabia. I suggest we adjoin this dinner, and ready ourselves for an evening of dancing and music. All in favor say Aye?”
“Aye!” was the staggered but enthusiastic response.

The small orchestra played very enthusiastically that evening, and even included some energetic peasant music. Balls in the past had included some peasant music before, but never had participation been so high. Taréz floated around the room, as he usually did, choosing whoever caught his fancy, but he only danced twelve danced before meeting Pimber again.
With a warm smile, she said, “Good evening, Your Highness.”
“Good evening. Would you care to dance?”
“Only if that is an invitation for the rest of the evening.”
“You drive a hard bargain. You might make a good queen.” He pulled her out onto the dance floor, grateful for the slower, more familiar tlora music. He’d need the brain power for the verbal dance that was starting.
She laughed lightly. “Your Highness! You should know better than to speculate on such matters.”
“It is the male mind. Our very dreams are speculation.”
“It is useless to speculate without parental involvement.”
“You know as well as I that the prince can elope whenever he wishes.”
“Ah! So, the Prince wishes to elope with me, is that it? Under the circumstances, that may not be wise.”
Taréz chose not to allow politics into his enjoyment of the evening. “No comment,” he replied with a mischievous grin.
Just then, the orchestra kicked in with another peasant dance number, and the dance shifted back to their feet. The rest of the evening flew by, until the dance shifted one more time... into the prince’s personal quarters.

2009-08-06T07:20:00.000-06:00

Mecora paid no attention as they jumped from tree, to tree, to tree, to tree. Instead, her conscience filled her with guilt, the feeling that she ought to be with her family. But another string voice inside told her it was better to be with Spreak. Better to be free. And he supported her, comforted her, loved her.
Mecora stopped at the end of a branch net. Where on earth had that thought come from?!
Spreak had already leapt down to the next branch net. “Mecora! What’s wrong?”
She peered over the edge of the net. “Spreak? Do you love me?”
“Love you? Why are you asking that now?”
“I dunno, I just thought of it.” She paused for an answer, but didn’t get one. “Well, do you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just answer the question!”
“Okay, fine. I love you. So, can we continue now?”
It was hardly a heartfelt response, but she asked, “You think we’re still in danger?”
“I thought you wanted to get well away from there.”
“I do.”
“Well, We’re not yet where we’re going.”
“Oh.” Carefully, she jumped to the branch Spreak was on, and their travel continued.
Finally, Spreak opened a tree tunnel to a branch to nowhere. Below, there was only water. They had returned to the lake.
“I thought we might stay here for a while. You seemed to like it,” he explained.
“Yeah, I did. I do.” She went out on the branch, about as far as she dared without a net. “It’s even more beautiful from up here.”
“And we can watch sunrises every morning.”
“That sounds romantic, Spreak.”
“Oh, cut that out,” he replied, but he had a big nervous grin on his face.
“I wanna go swimming again.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”

That night, after another rabbit dinner, they settled into their tree hole for the night. She lay to his left as she always did. But instead of falling asleep, Mecora’s thoughts kept her awake, still thinking of her family. She was glad of the darkness as tears rolled down her cheeks. Sniff.
Spreak took her left hand, and held it. That one gesture seemed to open up a floodgate, and with a sob, she rolled to hug him tightly.
She cried herself to sleep.

2009-08-05T04:32:00.000-06:00

Light diffused into the room as Mecora woke. She took a deep breath, and smiled as the smell of flatcakes filled her nose. She didn’t waste much time getting up and going to the front room. “Mmm, good morning.”
Her mom glanced over at her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. I haven’t slept like that in so long.... It’s hard to sleep in a tree, you know. Can’t lie flat.” And then, with a pang, she thought of Spreak. Would he be worried about her? Suddenly the flatcakes didn’t seem as tempting... but not long, as her mother got out the fruit syrup.
She decided to give in to temptation and sit down.
“Boys? Breakfast is ready!” she called.
A half beat and the two came out. As they came around the stove, their eyes brightened. “Mecora!” they chorused, running over to hug her.
Awkwardly she held onto both and put down her utensil at the same time. “Did you two actually miss me?”
“Yeah!”
With all the trouble she’d given them? Dumb kids... And yet, “It’s nice to see you, too. Now go on, you’d better sit down and eat.”
They heartily obeyed, and Mecora went back to enjoying her own breakfast. Soon, her mother joined them. It was quiet at the table, except for the smacking sounds and clacking of wood on wood the two boys made. It seemed there was nothing to say. Anything about the weather or events in town seemed so contrite.
But curiosity forced Mecora to try anyway. “Wasn’t there an election of elders recently?”
“Yes. Linna is the new elder.”
“No one got voted out.”
“Of course not.”
“No, of course not.” It would take something pretty awful to get an elder voted out, Mecora reflected.
“You were hoping for a more friendly environment to bring Spreak into,” her mother accused.
“The thought had crossed my mind. He’d like to live in a real house with a kitchen and a sleeping room, even if it isn’t really home.”
“Well, not this house. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” Mecora could feel the anger rising.
“Well, I am! I’ve told you-”
Suddenly, the clank of metal on metal, a strange, sharp thunder, shouting, horns, a rhythmic thwunking and elfmen screaming made its way in from outside. They all went to the window, in time to see a flaming arrow rise over the platform and hit their door. Their door was aflame! Panic froze them.
And then Spreak was there. “Come on! You have to get out of here!”
“Spreak!” Mecora tore from the huddled group and went to hug him. But her family just stood there at the window.
“It’s your army, here to rescue you, isn’t it?” asked Mecora’s mother.
“No, it’s not. It’s a human force. And they’re going to kill everybody here if we don’t get out now!”
“And you expect me to trust you? You who twisted my daughter?”
A look of dark desperation crossed Spreak’s face, a look Mecora had never seen on him before. “Fine. Good luck.” He sang one, single, awful note, shattering the front wall. Then, he turned and went back to the hole in the back room wall...
...leaving Mecora to decide. With Spreak, she would be safer, she knew. And she also knew there would be no way to convince her mother. Another flaming arrow flew through the hole in the wall and hit the opposite wall. Their time was up; her mother ducked outside.
And she went to Spreak’s hole in the back.

From an adjacent tree, they watched the terrible scene below. The armies filled every bit of ground, trampling all the undergrowth, as well as their dead comrades. Fires burned in every part of town as Vle ran to and fro, trying to find safety. There wasn’t much to be found. Vle archers shot as many humans as they could, while human soldiers sought the archers to neutralize the overhead threat; and below human archers fired their flaming arrows.
“Those humans aren’t fighting fair! They can’t burn our village like that! The whole forest might burn down!”
“I once read that humans don’t have forests like ours. They cut them down a long time ago to make vast fields for growing grain.”
“How sad.”
“Well, their trees don’t get nearly as big, anyway.”
“It’s still sad. How can they live like that?”
“I imagine they wonder how we can live in the trees all the time.”
“Are you defending them to me?”
Spreak shrugged, and swallowed. “They’re on my side,” he replied quietly.
Hearing him use the word ‘my’ that way surprised her, but she said nothing. Instead, she tried to pick her mother out of the chaos below, but it was impossible.
There was a general movement toward the monastery, and she could see a crowd clamoring to be let onto the platform. As yet, the monastery was untouched by fire, perhaps because the Vle archers had never gotten there in the first place. So the crowd on the narrow stairway grew, then spilled across the connecting bridge.
Meanwhile, the battle moved on. The Vle archers lost their lives, and all the live combatants visible below were human. Most of the houses and shops visible were burned out, and the platforms were dangerous to walk on. Faintly, a human voice announced in halting Vle that all those on the stairs were prisoners of war and were to obey all further commands.
“Spreak, there’s got to be some way to save my mom!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Please?!”
“What would you have us do? Spring out of a hole and drag her away in plain sight of the guards? And you know as well as I do she won’t come with us anyway.”
It hurt, but Mecora had to admit he was right. “Well, let’s just get out of here, then.”
“To where?”
“I don’t care. Just away.”
Spreak nodded, and sang.

Girl

2009-08-04T09:07:00.001-06:00

The familiar platforms of Kelwome beckoned below Mecora and Spreak. “What do we do now?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’d like to have some bread, some cooked food...”
“You actually want to me to go down there?”
“Well, no... I mean, if you don’t want to...”
“No. I’m not going down there.”
“So, now what?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, there’s no point in being here if we’re not going to go down there. Let’s go back to the lake.”
The lake? Mecora slowly shook her head, becoming somewhat sure she didn’t really want to go there. No reason why, specifically. She just didn’t want to go.
“Somewhere we haven’t been before, then? We could go west.”
Nah, that wasn’t an attractive idea, either. She shook her head, a bit more sharply this time.
“Mecora, why don’t you see if you can’t talk to your mom?”
“What good would that do? We’ll just get into an argument again.”
“You don’t know that. Just be respectful and don’t let her make you mad. Remember, she just wants what’s right for you.”
“But what she thinks is right is wrong!!”
“So agree to disagree. Just make peace.”
“Do I have to right now?”
“Of course not. But we’re leaving forever if you don’t tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Spreak sang, and their hole moved down to just above rooftop level. “You can go out when it gets dark.”

The sun set, sending first their hole and then the forest into darkness. Glowworm lanterns lit the platforms as the dark Vle went about their evening pleasures... and Mecora watched it all through the hole. Things were actually hopping. She just sat and watched for a while. The music got louder, the platforms got more crowded, and some of the Vle got drunker. Then, things reversed as they either went home or passed out. Finally, no one was moving, and the glowworms were themselves going to sleep.
In the dwindling wormlight, she squeezed out of the hole onto the roof. As quietly as she could, she hopped down to the platform and headed for her mother’s home.
What on earth was she going to say when she got there?
She reached the apartment, but didn’t go in right away. A beat; two, while she finalized her plan.
Three. She opened the door, hoping with every ounce of her being that it wouldn’t creak. Wider. Wider. Wider.
Her mom was sitting there at the table in the light of a single candle. “Mom!” she gasped.
“How can you make me live like this, Mecora?”
“How can the King make light Vle live without freedom?”
“It’s not our place to say, but it is my place to say how you live. I’m your mother.”
“I know. And I really don’t mean to hurt you.” To her surprise, Mecora realized she truly meant that.
Her mother didn’t reply.
So, what then? They weren’t yelling. Did that mean they’d reconciled, just like that? She opened the door a bit more and actually stepped in.
“So, are you going to stay now?”
“I can’t. Spreak is still out there.”
“How have you been eating?”
“Rabbits, berries, fish... we;’ve actually gotten pretty good at it. We miss bread, though.”
“So, what does he need you for?”
“Companionship.”
Her mother’s face went dark. “What kind of companionship?”
“Mom!” she whined, “not that kind of companionship!”
“So, where is he from?”
“Varmac. He was on vacation with his family when the Proclamation came out, and they were captured and only he got away.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth?”
“I just know!” Although, to be honest to herself, she’d never actually considered he might not be. On the other hand, why would he lie about that?
“So, if he’s not from Larmania, then he must be from one of the litie countries, and he could just be a spy.”
“Mom! What on earth is there to spy on around here?!” Nothing! She knew she was right about that.
“How am I supposed to know? That’s his job.”
“Mother...” she warned.
“All right, all right. You just never know.”
“What I know is that the Elders get together to judge if someone is guilty, and until then we have to assume they’re innocent.”
Her mother sighed, and went misty-eyed for a moment. “What happened to the party hearty Mecora I once knew?”
“She woke up.” Mecora paused. “You can’t tell me you loved that Mecora more. I know I worried you a lot.”
“Yes, you did, but I knew you. I was familiar with that Mecora. But I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“Well, I hope we can get to know each other better.”
“So, to ask again, does that mean you’re going to stay?”
“No. I don’t think I can.”
“I didn’t think so—”
“But maybe just tonight.”
Quietly, they went to the back room and resumed the old sleeping arrangement.

2009-07-30T15:23:00.001-06:00

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

2009-07-28T04:15:00.001-06:00

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?

2009-07-23T00:11:00.000-06:00

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!

2009-07-22T07:00:00.001-06:00

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

2009-07-21T05:12:00.001-06:00

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.”

2009-07-16T23:48:00.000-06:00

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

2009-07-15T02:55:00.001-06:00

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.

2009-07-09T23:28:00.000-06:00

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.

2009-07-08T11:54:00.001-06:00

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.

2009-07-07T05:23:00.001-06:00

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.

Monk

2009-06-30T05:27:00.001-06:00

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.

2009-06-25T10:52:00.000-06:00

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.

2009-06-24T14:19:00.000-06:00

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

2009-06-23T04:27:00.000-06:00

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.”

2009-06-17T03:58:00.000-06:00

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

2009-06-16T06:08:00.001-06:00

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.

2009-06-04T03:06:00.003-06:00

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.

2009-06-03T05:07:00.002-06:00

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

2009-06-02T05:34:00.002-06:00

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.

2009-05-22T09:07:00.000-06:00

It was on Eighthday when Gardric usually returned to relax at the palace, but he came on Seventhday that week— with more bad news. He brought Taréz into the library.
“Something big, Gardric?”
The Chief only nodded as he pulled out a map, and spread it across the table. Taréz recognized it as a closeup of their border with A’peine. It wasn’t long, but it was important.
“The crosses are confirmed enemy positions, and their color indicates nation of origin. Note how many red ones there are. Those are Varmacians.”
The King used his finger to count the red crosses, versus the green ones— A’peinese. The numbers were about equal, with a few scattered blue ones, which were the token Zvaljan force.
“Curious. It looks as though they intend to attack from there, but that’s foolishness. I’d attack a number of our valley positions first. If they attack there, we’ll have them surrounded.” Taréz paused. “Is it possible they’re just practicing together?”
“Not the way they’re getting so close to the border. They’ve got scouts who are obviously looking for the best routes through the mountains, and the best fallback positions. Especially ones on our side.”
“Hmm. So under no circumstances should we chase them into the mountains, but let them come at us.”
“Very astute, Your Highness. But that bothers me.”
“Why?”
“That’s not an offensive tactic, exactly. It’s an... occupation tactic, meant to keep us busy.”
“They intend an invasion from somewhere else?”
“Apparently.”
Taréz didn’t have to think too long about who. “The Pulinians and the Kamileans.”
“That was my thought, as well. But now, we have to rush a scouting expedition to try to figure out, on the sea, where the intended landing point is, and hope to have a detachment there in time.”
The King looked shocked. “By the Great Master! Make it so.”
“I cannot guarantee we’ll be there in time. We may lose a significant size territory before we can counter-attack.”
“I understand. Send pigeons to warn the lords on both of those fronts. They can be there sooner.”
“I’ve already taken that liberty, Sire.”
“Good. Let’s now just hope they’ll support me.”
Gardric looked surprised. “You have reason to believe they would not?”
“They boycotted the ball.”
“A social comment does not mean lack of military support.”
“Come now, Gardric, you know better than to count on something when there’s a chance you can’t.”
“Of course, Sire.”
“In the meantime, send everyone in the camp home. I’ll send apologies post haste by pigeon.”
“Sire! I will do nothing of the sort!”
“Burn it! Why not?!” Taréz admired his father’s reserve. Gardric had just refused an order! On second thought, the reserve was not a strong tactic in this case.
“Sire! Our... guests, as you call them, can be a barganing chip. We have their lives on their hands. If our neighbors attack, we can counter with deaths in the camp.”
“Chief, I have never heard something so cowardly in my life! Those are families we’ve got, not soldiers! By the Great Master!” Much better, Father, Taréz thought.
“Excuse me, Sire, I only thought—”
“No, you didn’t think. Remember I told you that my conscience is also yours? You would do well to remember that.”
“I would still suggest we keep them in camp.”
“For what reason?”
“Returnees can give valuable information to invading armies, as well as allow access to the homes of our own citizens.”
Burn it! The Chief of the Army was right again.
“Very well, they stay. But I do not want to hear of a single death, is that clear? Not from you, not from anyone else there!”
“Of course, Sire.”
“Good. Now... You’d better prepare us for war. Dismissed.”
The Chief stood, rolled up his map, and left the library just as Stecky came in. “Sire?”
“Yes, Stecky. Did you find anything?”
“No, Sire. The cupro is all green.”
“Worthless.”
“Yes, Sire. And there is nothing else of appreciable worth.”
“Very well. From this point onward, my fund is the camp fund. Make sure it is used for quick improvements.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And, also, draft a letter to our northern neighbors. We may need their help badly, if we have to fight five nations all at once.”
“Of course.”
“Dismissed.”

2009-05-20T14:27:00.002-06:00

It was only two days later that Taréz met Stecky headed upstairs with a message in hand. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “This just arrived for the King.”
“Aren’t all messages supposed to go through Gardric?” the Prince asked facetiously.
“W-well, y-yes, but... he’s not here, and... time constraints...”
“Relax, I’m glad you’re taking them directly to my father.”
“Actually, this is the first one I’ve dared be direct with. It comes from Yis.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take it myself.”
“That would make me feel much better, Sire.” The acting chamberlain handed over the message and bowed his exit.
Taréz went on up to the royal chambers, inspecting it as he went. Yis’ seal still carried the symbol of the chamberlain. Arriving at the door, he walked in with nary a knock. “Father, a message.”
“Thank you,” the King replied, and looked at the small roll a moment before breaking the seal. His face twitched a moment, and then he broke the wax. “Hmm! The writing does not belong to Yis.
“Your Majesty,
“This is a note to inform you without bias of today’s events. It carries the chamberlain’s seal so that it may pass with less suspicion, and to ensure your equanimity.
“Construction still does not equal the pace of arrivals, and the crowding is severe. This has caused many problems, and a number today decided to complain. We of the guard did not take this kindly, and the situation escalated to a full protest. The Chief ordered that all light Vle involved be summarily executed. Some were indeed killed, but Yis bargained for the lives of those remaining. They now sit on the roof of the newest completed building, chained as an example to others.
“I hope this note finds you well. I continue to be your most loyal and faithful servant,
Major Skigby.”
A Major had written the letter, Taréz noted— putting himself at no little risk. Gardric did not deal lightly with those in his army who presumed to disagree with his decisions, and a Major could be singled out. Still, he was glad of the information.
“Stecky!” his father called loudly.
The palace attaché arrived at the door within moments. “Sire?”
“Get Gardric here today.”
“Sire, it is getting dark—”
“I know, but this can’t wait. And once you’ve sent the ‘invite,’ I want you to copy the text of this letter, but without the name at the bottom.” He had a thought. “In fact, I won’t even let you read who wrote it, so you won’t be in danger.” The King took the letter and tore off the end where it was signed. Then, he handed the letter to the waiting Vle.
“Yes, Sire.” Stecky hurried off.
The King sighed. “You’d think Gardric would reward me for making this stupid Proclamation by at least treating the lights with a little respect. Thank the Great Master I put Yis in a position of power. My estimation of that Vle rises by the day.”
“King Renwar gave you a wonderful gift.”
“He did, indeed.” The King paused. “Attend when Gardric and I have our talk. We’ll wait for him in the Library.”
“The Library?”
“Your mother will want to be up here in the chamber. It’ll be evening before Gardric arrives.”
“Okay, Father.” Taréz stifled a sigh.

It was indeed well after dark when Gardric arrived. “Yes, Sire, you wished to see me?” he said when he entered the library.
“Indeed, Chief. I received an interesting report today.”
A flicker of uncomfort crossed the stony face and disappeared. “From..?”
“The camp. Here’s a copy. It concerns an uprising among my light-skinned subjects. Apparently construction is still not keeping pace with arrivals.”
“No, Sire. It... is difficult for the workers to work among the tight conditions.”
“I imagine so. Still, I wonder that either you still do not have enough workers or they aren’t working fast enough. The last, however, I doubt, since I would think they’d want to work fast to improve their lot. The design is two storied, is it not?”
“Uh, no, Sire, I had not considered—”
“Well, do so now. If it’s as crowded as the report indicated, one floor each will not be enough. And I want that wall extended!”
“It has been—”
“More, Gardric! I’m tired of your obfuscation and excuses. You were never so obtuse before, and I don’t want it from you now. Now tell me, what’s this about your bloody treatment of an uprising?!”
“It was a dangerous situation, Sire. It could not be allowed to continue. The lives of my soldiers were in jeopardy.”
“I have a feeling they wanted some discussion, Chief, not blood. Are you that war-thirsty, that you look for battles where there are none? What really concerns me is the lives your men took, and those you have sitting chained on a roof.”
“Sire.... your informativeness stuns me. I assure you, operatives of your own inside my organization are unnecessary...”
“Up to now, I am confident they have been. No, I don’t have an informant of my own, merely the good luck of there being an Vle under you with a conscience. The report was merely factual and without bias. I called you here because I didn’t care to wait for your report. I need you to fix the situation tomorrow. I want those who are chained released, and the families of those who lost their lives will be compensated when this whole mess is over.”
Gardric stiffened. “Yes, Sire. However, more uprisings may require stiffer responses.”
“No, the next uprising will require dialogue. The one after that— well, we’ll let them out.”
“Sire?!”
“I’m tired of this mess, Gardric. The only reason they’re still there is because you continue to bring or send reports of violent or counter-productive activity on the part of the light Vle remaining outside. You may be having fun, but I’m not, and until you’re King— fat chance, as you know— you’ll just have to deal with my conscience just as I do.”
“Of course, Sire. Your command is my law.”
“Now, go get some sleep so you can be energetic for carrying out my commands tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Gardic bowed low, and left.
The King stared out the door for a few moments. Taréz gave him a few more before asking, “What’s on your mind?”
“Money.”
“Still no luck finding the funds for the camp?”
“No. Wait, maybe I can find them in the books!”
“Father, when was the last time you’ve even looked at the books?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever looked at them. But I remember being taught something about accounting back when I was young... younger than you, in fact. And just beginning my reign. They simply haven’t been necessary, because I’ve always had a chamberlain to do it for me. Now, the tables of figures are on the desk just outside these chambers. Somewhere in there must be an answer.” He heaved himself to his feet and went out to that desk, Taréz following with curiosity. The younger Vle had had the same accounting lessons much more recently, and had actually worked with the books, but he let his father have his moment.
It took some searching, but the King finally found the page that listed the various funds the Kingdom had and what they currently contained. There was one for emergencies, such as fires, tornadoes, or earthquakes; there was his own, and finally the building fund. That last had nothing in it.
“The emergency fund, Father?”
“Well, though it looks healthy enough to stop adding to it, I think would be best to leave it as it is.”
“That leaves your own funds.” The fund used for new coaches, new robes, new thrones, ball expenses, palace repair, gilding replacement... Would his father be able to give that up?
“No. There has to be something else somewhere, a stash long forgotten... Stecky!”
As always, the young Vle appeared as if by magic. “Yes, Sire?”
“Get the librarian. Ask him if there’s any record anywhere of a stash of gold or platin... or even cobilum! that hasn’t been touched in years, or accounted for.”
“Yes, Sire.” Stecky bowed, and dashed off.
“You know,” the King remarked, “he definitely would make a good chamberlain, if he’d ever grow up.” He turned back to the books. “Maybe there’s a trace of an out-pay that I’m not familiar with, to a fund that I don’t remember. You know, I wish I hadn’t been ruling for so long, so that there’d more likely be something my father had neglected to mention, something no one remembered...”
“Unless perhaps your father did have a personal fund separate from the normal personal palace fund.”
The King was in motion, tearing through each page twice, looking at every line pertaining to the King’s funds. “Nothing.”
“Not in that book, Father, that’s just for this year. You’d have to find the books for the very beginning of your reign.”
“Well, I did discover something.”
“What’s that?” Taréz was confused.
“The economy is slipping far worse than I had previously thought. Hmm... the librarian hasn’t come up yet. Shall we go look for him?”
Taréz just shrugged, so they went downstairs to the library. There, they found the old Vle poring over a large number of dusty tomes, scrolls and even laquered wooden tablets with marks that the King couldn’t begin to decipher. “Well?” inquired the elder.
Furns didn’t reply, didn’t even seem to be aware that the King was there. The King tried again. “Furns! Have you found anything?”
The old man was startled, enough that he dropped one of the tomes. “Sire! I didn’t see you there.”
“So I noted. Anything?”
“I have only found one possibility so far, Sire. It seems your great grandfather stockpiled some cupro in the sub-cellar. However, it doesn’t detail where, or how much. Worse, I’m afraid I’m almost finished with every record we still have.”
“Perhaps we’ll find something else when we search the cellars. Is there any record of the current contents of the rooms down there?”
“But, of course. Yis made sure an inventory was taken every year.”
“Really? Why? Is it used that often?”
“No. It is simply so that staff is less likely to think they can take something without it being noticed.”
“However, they can easily take it while they’re counting,” the King countered.
“This is true, except Yis had always made sure he’s down there counting with them.”
“Hmm. Let’s take a look.”
Furns took a large, old book from a shelf and opened it on the table. “Note here that your illustrious ancestor Lajot the 21st took roughly one third of all cupro taxes for his very own. That wasn’t long after cupro’s usefulness was discovered, and he hoped to earn lots of money by restricting the supply and selling his share when the supply was low. Unfortunately, he died only a few years later.”
“So, his stockpile is not likely to be large.”
“No, and recent advances in mining have made it more plentiful. It won’t be worth much.”
“Still, it’s something. What else is there?”
“Oh, an old coach, a few platin bars, some cobilum statues—”
“Ew,” said Taréz.
“Yes, they were put down there after the metal lost popularity. As I was saying, there’s also a stockpile of old weapons, some human iron armor, and some old furniture, but nothing of much value. May I inquire, Your Majesty, as to the reason for your interest?”
“This camp is bankrupting the nation, and it may mean giving up my own personal fund.”
“I see. Well, we could sell all of this, but I doubt it will do much for your reputation or image. Plus, buyers may well know how desperate you are.”
“You’re advising me to use my fund?”
“I cannot advise you in this, Sire. I am a mere librarian.”
“Thanks. Stecky!”
Once again, the young Vle appeared in moments. “Yes, Sire?”
“Organize a search party. I want to know how valuable our stockpile of cupro is.”
“Right away, Sire.”

Prince

2009-05-19T07:59:00.002-06:00

The Chief rushed into the royal chambers, and the Prince barely suppressed a groan. “What now, Gardric?”
“Sire, it’s a matter of grave importance! Is the King near?”
“He’s riding horseback in his forest. In the meantime, I’m listening.”
“Someone has attacked the port of Hantas! Nearly half of the docked boats burned, on the east end of the port. There was nothing my officials could do but cut the others on the west end loose. Some of those were lost, as well.”
“Hantas...” Taréz tried to picture the place in his mind, but remembered he hadn’t ever been there. “That’s a port town on the north shore, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And it’s roughly half light and half dark?”
“Yes, Sire. It is noteworthy that the burned ships were nearly all owned by the dark citizens.”
“Ah. And so, the drifting boats were owned by light Vle?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“One might say that the tactic of cutting them loose was an unnecessary act of revenge.”
“Revenge is rarely unnecessary.”
“I thought you might say so.” Taréz paused. “How did your subordinates respond?”
“Well, they immediately declared martial law, of course. All light Vle were summarily rounded up and sent on their way.”
Taréz pursed his lips. On the face of it, it was the best response. Still...
The Librarian entered. “I understand there was another event today?”
Gardric rounded on him. “How did you know?”
“Chief, it’s written in your stance and stride when you arrive with big news. The servants notice things like that. Now, about that event?”
“The port of Hantas suffered arson. The boats owned by dark Vle were burned, while most of those owned by light Vle were saved.”
Furns scribbled it all down, and then paused, looking up. “How did it happen that light Vle boats remained safe?”
“Different side of the harbor.”
“Indeed?”
The prince perked up— it seemed the librarian didn’t quite believe the story.
The old Vle continued. “That’s very interesting. Why should a harmonious town segregate their boats?”
The Chief shrugged. “How should I know? I simply received the report from my subordinate. He didn’t comment on the sociology of the town.”
“Oh, it was a rhetorical question— I didn’t expect you to know. Now, I suppose that the light Vle may have preferred a different design, requiring different size docks... Yes, that would be possible... Very well. Thank you. Sire?”
“Dismissed,” Taréz said. Normally, it was with a smile, but this time he was too deep in thought to smile.

Taréz took his accustomed spot before the ball to watch the guests arrive. It was rather depressing, because a drastically reduced number of guests would be there that evening, according to Stecky. This was the one he’d been waiting for for a month, but now he dreaded it.
All were fashionably late, of course, and there was the usual sudden clump of coaches in the drive. The clump itself, however, was smaller, and he noted the lack of any southern or eastern nobles. Some may indeed have had the excuse of not being able to afford to come, but certainly not Varabia. It was a message of non-support.
The King’s sigh floated down from upstairs shortly before the first of the nobles entered. They received their greetings from Stecky, and filed into the ballroom. The chamber orchestra then struck up the music.
But it wasn’t the best music, Taréz noted as his parents came out onto the balcony. Some of the usual company were currently ‘camping’; others had quit in protest of the proclamation. They had been some of the best in the land.
“Welcome,” the King said to those assembled below (all dark-skinned, of course). “I know that we all have things weighing heavily on our minds. Some of us may feel that it is hardly right to have this ball at all. In part, that is precisely why I held it anyway. This is, after all, the season of Grange, when we celebrate our joys, and leave behind our worries. So let’s do exactly that! I now pronounce this ball— Granged!” He said it with a fervor which Taréz felt he probably did not have.
The chamber orchestra was supposed to hit a loud, high, triumphant note, but they missed their cue and came in late. Taréz could see a shadow of despair and disgust on his parents’ faces. But from that note, they went on into the first song, and a few began to dance. Taréz looked around for Pimber, but another young nobleman had already asked the favor of a dance. He had every right and power to cut in, but chose not to, and found another young noblewoman.
It was more than a little strange to be out on the dance floor this time, however. For one thing, there was plenty of room to spin his partner around. On the other hand, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. Oh, they always watched the Prince of the kingdom, but somehow the press of Vle on a busy dancefloor made the watching imperceptible. Now, he felt as if he was putting on a show, a show of festivity that no one else wanted to join.
After ten songs, (and before he could get around to Pimber) the chamber orchestra took their first break. It was normally the first opportunity for some to leave early if they so wished. Taréz watched as two left, followed by a few more, and then a whole group left. Finally, everyone was walking out before the chamber orchestra even came back.
“Pimber, a moment?”
She looked back at him, with an apologetic look. “Another time, Taréz.” And she stepped out the door, leaving the hall empty.

It wasn’t exactly a princely thing to do, but Taréz slumped in his chair. The royal chambers were quiet in the absence of his mother, who was away on vacation in Baldia. Yis was still at the camp with the rest of the light Vle; and so was Gardric, who had seemingly set up a permanent base there.
He stood up and went to the window. Outside, the South Hall sat waiting to be completed, its funds and constructors diverted to the camp. It was another beautiful, sunny day, and a number of his servants were outside in the gardens and enjoying the warm sun. Without guests, there wasn’t much to do; with the army on alert or guarding the camp, there was no one to train with.
In fact, the only thing he could think of to do was go to the camp and visit Yis again. At least the driver would have something to do. He looked over at his father, still slumped on his own chair. “I was thinking we should go visit the camp.”
“The camp? No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“I think you need to see it, Father. See what you’ve created.”
“How can I face Yis?”
“Like a Vle.”
“Ouch! You win. Call the driver.”
The servant was on the lawn below, so Taréz opened the window. “Driver! Ganning!”
The middle-aged Vle was startled, and it took a moment before he was looking in the right direction. “Yes, Sire!”
“I’m going to the camp.”
“Yes, Sire, I’ll have the coach ready in half an hour—”
“Ten minutes max, Driver.”
“Yes, Sire.” The man dashed toward the door, then back for his coat, and then inside.
Taréz felt a bit better, now that there was something to do, but he’d still have to wait the ten minutes before the coach was ready, and the time for the coach to get him there. In the meantime, would his father end up changing his mind about the proclamation? They continued to chat while waiting.
The driver himself appeared breathless at the door. “The coach is ready, Sires, though I cannot guarantee it will be to your complete satis—”
“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” Said the King. “This is not a long distance trip.”
Ganning led the way down to the front door, before which the coach was ready and waiting. He opened the door to the coach, and the King heaved himself in. Taréz followed carefully, folding his frame through the door. With a click, the driver closed the door and went up to the front. A lurch and they were off.

When the two arrived at the observation platform and looked out the window, Taréz was stunned. There had been some progress on building, but most of the light Vle still did not have a roof over their heads. There seemed to be almost no room to move around. The fence had not been extended, and the piles of household items were very, very tall now. And yet more light Vle arrived.
“Sire! I was not expecting you.”
Taréz turned when he heard Gardric’s voice. The Chief looked somewhat hurt and uncomfortable.
“Oh?” replied the King. “Is there some reason I must warn you before I go somewhere? Let you know, so you can adjust appearances? I think not. It’s my kingdom, Gardric.”
“Of course, Sire. It’s just that I would have prepared a reception for you, an inspection tour.”
“Well, the next time I’m in the mood for that, I shall warn you first. But for now, I wanted to see how things are coming.”
“Rough, Sire. Our lack of money is slowing things down. We cannot keep up with arrivals’ needs.”
“You can slow down the rate of arrivals.”
“For security reasons, I found it best to execute this plan as quickly as possible.”
“At the expense of the comfort of our guests, Gardric. Now, I know you don’t like light Vle, but at least humor me in this. Either slow down their arrivals, or triple— no, quadruple the construction speed. Oh, and extend the walls.”
“But, Sire, we don’t have the money—”
“I didn’t think we were paying them anything.”
“Of course not, Sire! But, materials—”
“I don’t care anymore. We’ll either print or mine or borrow the money. My concern is those below.”
Gardric didn’t reply to that, though he seemed about to. Taréz was about to ask him what was on his mind when he spoke. “Very well, Sire. I shall hire more workers in the morning.”
“Right now.”
“Very well, Sire.” The Chief of the Army snapped his fingers, and an aide appeared. “Tell Fesson to quadruple the workforce.”
“Fesson, sir?” asked the aide with a bewildered look.
“Yes, Fesson! Now, go!”
“Yessir.” The aide went off in a hurry.
“Now, Sire, if you would care to inspect my troops here? It would mean a lot to them.”
Taréz saw his father hesitate, as if he didn’t really want to. Of course, the soldiers would be glad to be inspected, to show off, to bask in the glory of their liege lord. So maybe the King didn’t feel like basking at the moment.
Yis appeared at the door. “Ah, Yis, please, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you. Gardric, you’re dismissed. You came up to say something?”
“Yes, Sire, actually I was hoping to make my daily beg with the Chief.”
“More money? More labor? More space?”
“Yes, all of the above. It’s inVle, Sire.”
“Oh, by the Great Master, did you have to say that? My conscience is already torturing me to no end.”
“It may be trying to tell you something.”
“Well... I know that! But sometimes the conscience is wrong. History has taught that all too well. An ounce of compassion becomes a ton of ruin. Can you imagine what would be happening if I was actually sending all of these people out of the country?”
“No, Sire. I cannot.”
Taréz realized he couldn’t either.
After a bit of a pause, Yis said, “You never sent the money I asked for.”
“No, I didn’t.” The King sighed. “I know I’m not a great accountant, but there isn’t any to send.”
“The taxes weren’t sufficient?”
“No. Receipts from the east and south were way down.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“I know. Still, I thought there would be enough. We’re a large, rich kingdom. We’ve got plenty, right? Apparently not.”
“It simply means, Your Majesty, that you’ll have to be more creative.”
The King looked at Yis and narrowed his eyes. “Creative? That sounds dishonest.”
“Not at all, Sire. I simply mean that you have to look for other sources of money. What funds do you have saved up, what other ways are there to gain income? No one ever said taxes were the only way.”
“You mean, my funds? My own personal income?!”
“Well, just as an example. You had a special fund for the South Hall, if I remember correctly, and—”
“And you already have used that.”
“Indeed.”
“My own personal income.” A long pause. “Well, I just told Gardric to quadruple the rate of construction and extend the fence. I’ll find the money for it somehow.”
“Thank you, Sire. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
After a moment, Yis dismissed himself.

2009-05-14T13:53:00.000-06:00

Mecora found Relie at the statue the next day, impassively looking toward the men at their various jobs. The younger girl apparently heard the approaching footsteps. “You have a funny way of enjoying parties,” she said.
The accusation hurt. Who was this newcomer to judge how she behaved? “You have a funny way of being a friend,” was her retort.
“I’m not the one who got so drunk that you couldn’t remember my name anymore.”
“I always do that! And then we always slept out on the deck together. And then Handa went to get the willow-bark tea. You’ve never been drunk, obviously, or you’d know how important that is.”
“Is that what a friend is to you? Someone to support your habit, so you can keep drinking away your life and not have to feel the consequences?”
That really irritated Mecora. “How did you get so smart? Or, I mean, how did you get to be my mother? My own mother doesn’t even complain!”
“Well, maybe I just thought you’d like to have a true friend, someone who’ll make you a better person.”
“There’s no point in trying. I am the way I am, and there’s nothing a little twerp like you can do about it,” Mecora spat.
“Well, fine! If you die, don’t come haunting me!”
“I hope I die just so I can get away from you!” With that, she turned, and stalked off. Only then did she realize she was stalking away from her own mooding spot. It only made her angrier. There was nothing to punch, hit or scream at. No doors to kick, no brother’s ears to bollox, no pans to bang. But then, there were those things at home.
It didn’t seem to take long to get there, but as soon as she walked in the door, her mother said, “Don’t you dare bring your anger in here! Take it to the statue.”
“AAAAGHH!” She couldn’t stand it. “I can’t, Relie’s there!” It seemed as if every muscle in her body wanted to tense at once, and really destroy everything.
“Well, take a walk or something, but I won’t have you banging up my pans or your brothers’ heads.”
Mecora couldn’t move. A walk just wouldn’t do any good— where was there to go, really?
“What did Relie do to make you so mad?”
“She accused me of not being a good friend, that I just used friends for getting tea on mornings-after.”
“Well, that’s part of adjusting, isn’t it? You didn’t have to get mad.”
“Well, she was just so... irritating! Like she was my mother, or a priest or something.” She relaxed a bit.
“Did she have some good advice?”
“Mom, she’s two years younger than I am! How can she know more than me? She’s never lived my life. And she lived in a town filled with just light Vle, so she’s gotta be nuts from losing all her friends, and yet she doesn’t show it.”
“Maybe she needs your help in bringing her problems out and making her deal with them.”
“Maybe her mother said the same thing to her.” That relaxed her even more. She still hated Relie, though.
“That may be true.” Her mother went back to sweeping, though with all the sweeping she did, there was very little dust to sweep. “Oh, by the way, what’s this?” She held out her hand for her daughter to take the object inside.
Mecora finally entered her house, took the object and examined it carefully. It was round and had a hard shell, but it didn’t seem solid. She’d never seen anything like it. “I dunno, Mom,” she replied, putting it into her right pocket. “Where’d you find it?”
“On your pillow this morning.”
“Well, it’s not mine. Maybe I can ask someone what it is.”
“You’re sure Relie didn’t give it to you?”
“Mom! Did you have to bring her up again?!” Mecora sat at the table and brooded, while her mother shook her head and went back to sweeping the seemingly dustless floor.

That afternoon, the rumble of many wagons and more hooves and yet more feet grew in the forest. The whole town went to the railing of the platform to watch; some turned away almost immediately. To Mecora, it was a sorrowful sound, like the souls of the light Vle being beaten into the ground by their own feet as they walked. Their expressions were blank, not seeming to notice the thousand-odd pairs of eyes gazing at them. Mecora, too, wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. It was disrespectful, she felt, to watch and do nothing, but it also seemed wrong to look away in shame, as if out of sight was out of mind. No one laughed, no one spoke but for the children who wondered what was going on.
The line stretched on, and on. The crowd finally began to thin, and Mecora couldn’t stand to watch any longer, either. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand to be there, in town, not even in the forest, not even in her own burnably dark body. She had to run, and run she did. Not even aware she was going, she ran onto the rope bridge to the monastery tree. Up the stairs, to the platform—
“I’m sorry, Miss, but you’ll need an invitation from the abbot to come up here,” said a young monk.
She looked at him, not even having been aware that he was there. “O-oh,” she stammered, “I’m, I’m sorry, I- I didn’t even know...”
“I understand. Is there someone you have come to see?”
Was there? Well, perhaps there was. “Hyran. Can I come up to see him?”
“Well, I doubt you’ll be able to get him to get permission for you to come up. You see, he has disappeared.”
“Disappeared?! Did they take him too? What would they do that for? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. I do know that he was defrocked.”
“Defrocked?” Mecora hadn’t ever heard the word before.
“Yes, he’s no longer a monk. And just this morning, we discovered that his cell was empty.”
“So, he left on his own.”
“We believe so.”
“But, he didn’t even come see me.” And then, she remembered the strange object in her pocket. Taking it out, she asked, “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s an eggnut,” the monk replied. “We give those to glowworms to keep them glowing.”
Glowworms... The ones Hyran had given her weren’t so bright anymore.... So, Hyran had visited! Suddenly things were okay again. “Do glowworms need them to live?”
“Well, not really... they can eat other things, but these seem to make them glow better than without. Why? Do you actually have a glowworm?”
“Three,” Mecora replied. “Thanks for your advice!” And she bounded back down the steps.
In fact, she bounded all the way home. However, her heart sank once she got there: Relie was about to knock on the door. “Relie.”
“Hi, Mecora. I came to apologize today. I should have realized you were still hurting. It was insensitive of me.”
By the Great Master, why did this annoying goody-two shoes have to come into her life? But the good feeling from Hyran’s gift overflowed. “No, Relie, I’m the one who should apologize. I really didn’t need to say those things. I was just... still hungover, I guess. I know that’s not much of an excuse, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
“So, do you want to still be friends? I don’t know if I can promise to stay out on the platform all night or not.”
“No, I think maybe it would be best if we didn’t try to be friends.”
“I think you’re right, Mecora. Still, it’s nice to have met you.”
“Yeah. I’m glad I met you, too.” Well, maybe that would be true some time later. But just not now.

2009-05-13T14:57:00.000-06:00

But the dance just wasn’t fun. There weren’t many Vle there, the music seemed listless, and Relie could dance circles around everybody, but no one noticed. Mecora, of course, just went for more beer. Sometime during the evening, Relie left, but Mecora didn’t know why. At the very least she could have been there the next morning to get some willow bark tea. If she really wanted to be a friend, she could have at least done that.
If only the morning’s runningtree had actually killed her. It would have solved so many problems. Her mother would never have to drag her out of bed again, she could save her money on those horrible flatcakes, which Mecora would never have to eat again... She almost lost her stomach contents just thinking about those flatcakes.
On the plus side, she didn’t have to deal with her mother that morning. She just had a headache of a different kind to deal with. Which was worse? Mecora didn’t know.
Slowly, carefully, she crawled over to the chemists’. It felt like she crawled for an hour. “Hello, Mecora,” said Handa’s mother softly. “Some willow-bark tea for you?”
“Please.”
The matronly woman went about her chores without a word, without a song. At one time, Mecora had promised herself that she wouldn’t go to Holice’s shop, since she was sure it would bring back too many memories. But every single time she woke up out on the plaza, she crawled in the same direction.
“Here you go, dear.”
At least the tea was still free. “Thank you.” Carefully, Mecora took a sip. Slowly, she began to feel better.
Handa’s mom usually went about her business then, but this time, she just stood, watching her. “Is something wrong?” Mecora asked.
“No, not really. I was just thinking about... mornings after.”
Mecora finished her tea. “Yeah.”
“I don’t understand how you can keep doing this to yourself.”
“Kills the pain.”
“Nothing can kill the pain forever, Mecora, only for a little while. And then the pain makes up for lost time.”
“Tell me about it.” There was a pause, during which Mecora finally, slowly stood up. “How do you deal with it?”
“Handa still lives in here,” replied the chemist, pointing to her head. “My life was enriched by her presence, and I am glad I knew her.”
“Yeah.” It made sense. It still didn’t really bring her back, though. Nor could it bring back her friends from the camp. “Well, Mom will expect me home soon.”
“Say hello for me.”
“I will.” Mecora left, debating whether to pass the hello on or not. Mom wouldn’t like to know she’d visited Holice, considering...
Something seemed different: there was more noise in town! Unusual, especially for an early Fifthday. She looked around, and just coming into view around the tree was another troop of soldiers, doing something very odd. They were putting up signs, fairly large and colorful ones. Curious, Mecora went to join the crowd to get a look at what the signs said.
Or, more precisely, to get some help in reading them. They were all about light Vle, that much she knew. But she thought there was something wrong with her reading skills— they all said something very disparaging! And every one reminded the reader to make sure and send a message to the Most High Elder of the town when a light Vle was spotted without an escort.
Light Vle were proven enemies of the state, untrustable, greedy, and had once owned all the wealth of the nation, and were likely to try to take it all again.
Yeah, right! It seemed to Mecora that most of the townsfolk disagreed and disapproved of the signs. However, no one took them down, either.
She shuffled on home, intent on getting some more sleep. As usual for ninthday mornings, her mother was home, doing chores. Not usual was her reaction when Mecora walked in the door. “Hello dear,” she said, hugging her daughter. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Mecora was too tired to respond. “Thanks, Mom. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
“Wait, I want to talk with you. We don’t get to really do that anymore.”
“What is there to talk about? We wake up, we go to work, or do chores, we come home, we go to bed, hopefully with food in our stomachs.”
“Well, we could talk about last night. Did you have fun? I heard you made a new friend.”
Oh, so that was it. “Some new friend. She left the party early, didn’t even stick around to get me some tea this morning.”
“Well, you can’t expect her to just fit into your idea of a friend right away. You both have some learning about each other to do.”
“I dunno. I just don’t think we’re meant to be friends. She’s kinda too young, too... bubbly.”
“You were bubbly once, and energetic. Better yet, she’s as dark as you are, I heard. She might be exactly what you need.”
“Mom, what’s how dark she is got to do with it?”
“Oh, I dunno, I just think you need someone just like you for a friend for a change.”
“Yeah, only a few years younger so I can be happy and ‘bubbly’ again. Great. Listen, I’m tired. I wanna get some sleep.”
“Okay, dear.”
Mecora fell asleep still not understanding what had gotten into her mom or why she was so glad to see her.

Girl

2009-05-12T05:12:00.002-06:00

Mecora did not want to get up. Mom had prepared another, dull, boring breakfast (flatcakes, always flatcakes, without any topping because they could no longer afford it). There’d be nothing to do, no one to see, no one to talk to, no one to share clothes with...
Nothing.
Her mother opened the door. “Come on, Mecora, I don’t want to have to go through this again.”
“So don’t.”
Her mother sighed. “Mecora, I will if I have to. Make it easier for both of us and come eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“The only reason for that is that you just laze around all day and never go outside. You really need some fresh air and new friends.”
“Why should I get some new friends when I still have some?” Mecora retorted. Everyone tried to tell her to get new friends, as if she could just cast the old ones off, and forget them!
“It’s always good to make new friends, Mecora. It makes you a better person. I always thought you were too clickish with those three anyway. Come on, just say to yourself, ‘I’m going out to have fun today.’”
“Nothing’s fun anymore. Not without my friends.”
Mecora’s mother changed her tone. “Mecora, would you like me to come in and drag you out?”
“No,” was Mecora’s terse reply. Lips pursed, she tossed aside the linens and strode toward the door. She barely even looked at her mother as she went out to the table. She thumped down on the chair, glowering at her brothers. They were suddenly very quiet.
“That’s better. Tomorrow morning we’ll work on your mood.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be worked on. I wanna be just the way I am, because there’s no point in being any different.”
“I find that very hard to believe.” Mecora’s mother put a plate of two flatcakes before her, and said, “Eat.”
Mecora looked at her mother, and decided she didn’t feel like resisting this morning. She could save her energy and really resist the next day. She tried not to think about the flatcakes as they dried out her mouth, tastelessly sliding down her throat.
Finally, there was nothing left on the plate. She stood, and went back to the bedroom, intent on going to sleep again.
“You’re not going to bed again,” said her mother.
“You’re right, I’m not,” replied Mecora, but she flopped onto the bed anyway.
About an hour later, her mother came in again. “I thought I told you not to go to bed again.”
“No, you didn’t,” replied Mecora. “You just told me that I wasn’t going to bed, but you were wrong.”
“Quit the wordplay and get up! I’m sick and tired of battling with you! I’m about ready to put you out of the house.”
That shocked Mecora. The tone meant more than just being out for the day, but being out, period. “Wh— wh—”
“Don’t wha-wha me, girl! I don’t particularly like sharing a bed with such a sourpuss, and I don’t particularly like kicking you through your life. Maybe if you lived on your own, your survival instincts would kick in.”
“I doubt it.”
“So do I. That’s why I haven’t done it yet. I love you too much.”
Somehow, that drained the fight out of Mecora. On the other hand, she couldn't return the sentiment. Instead, she went to her drawers to try to pick out something to wear for the day.
The door closed, and Mecora began tossing various shirts and tops and skirts and dresses out onto the bed behind her. It was all too pretty, too eye-catching, too bright for her dark mood. And, she supposed, they all reminded her too much of her friends. Lots of the clothes she’d tossed behind her were ‘borrowed’ from them.
Finally, she reached the hand-me-downs from her mother that had been buried since her mother had last done the laundry-- dingier, less colorful things. Almost randomly, she chose a tunic and a skirt and pulled them on.
She came out, and her mother didn’t give her a second glance. “You’re making progress, Mecora. What are you going to do now?”
“Who says I have to do anything?”
“I do. Now go, so I can clean this place without you in my way.”
“Yes, Mother,” she droned, and shuffled out the door.
High above, the sky showed blue through the leaves, and the glint of sunlight flitted through them. Birds sang, and insects chirped, and Mecora even smiled a little. But it hurt to smile, hurt inside.

A few Vle passed by on their business, but no one said ‘hi.’ She decided that was probably best— she wasn't sure how civil her reply would have been. She wandered away, not really taking notice of where she was going beyond making sure she didn’t bump into anyone (never mind the fact that the town was seemingly as dead as if it were still dawn). And then she wondered why she was being so kind.
Suddenly, she found herself at the statue.
Burn.
“Lonely?”
Mecora whirled. A girl a little younger than she stood there in brightly colored clothers, smiling sweetly. “Are you new here?” asked Mecora brusquely.
Somehow, the girl didn’t seem fazed by that. “Yeah, we just moved in. We were the only ones left in our town.”
“And it doesn’t bother you, that all your friends are gone?”
“Well, of course! Did you have some light friends, too?”
“Correction,” said Mecora, bearing down on the girl, “I do have light friends.”
“Oh, well, that’s what I meant, I mean, of course, since they’re probably still alive...”
A moment of awkward silence passed before Mecora relaxed and spoke again. “So, I suppose you want to be my friend, now.”
“If you want. It looks like you could use one.”
“Who needs friends? They just get taken away, or they die of depression. You don’t want me as a friend. I might die tonight.”
“Well, if you don’t want me as a friend, just say so. Gee whiz.” She began to walk away.
“No, wait. I’ll try it. Meet me here tonight, and we’ll go to the party.”
“Okay! I’d like that. See you tonight!” She skipped away happily, leaving Mecora to wonder if she’d really done the right thing. They’d never even introduced themselves.

The girl was at the statue, waiting as promised. “Hi! I should have told you my name before skipping away. I’m Relie.”
“I’m Mecora. Shall we go?”
“Sure.” As they started walking, Relie asked, “Why the statue?”
“My friends and I used to meet there to watch the guys working in their shops. It kinda became, you know, our spot.”
“What’s so interesting about watching a bunch of guys working? It’s not like you’ll ever grow up to be a leatherworker, or a sculptor, or a blacksmith.”
“That wasn’t the point. You’ll understand someday.”
“Oh.”
The music was as loud as it always used to be, but the crowd wasn’t. They danced, but it seemed to Mecora that they did so without any real attempt to innovate. They simply moved, back and forth and around and around. Mecora moved toward the pub, almost by reflex.
“What are you going that way for?”
“Some beer! Don’t you drink beer at parties?”
“Heck no! I like to be able to dance and then remember it all in the morning.”
Mecora was torn, but in the end she went for the free glass. As Relie watched, she chugged it. “Okay, let’s go dance.”

2009-05-07T05:02:00.001-06:00

Later, the abbot returned to the now-dark hall. “Hyran?”
“Yes, Father?”
“I’ve been wondering if you were okay. Is something disturbing you?”
Hyran nodded, and repeated verbatim the conversation he’d had earlier. “I’ve been trying to find the flaws in the argument ever since. I can’t find anything wrong, which means our Great Master is inconsistent. I then tried to think of ways to prove that The Great Master is consistent, but I’ve found that it’s merely a leap of faith.”
“There is nothing ‘mere’ about a leap of faith, Son,” said the abbot gravely.
“Except that leaps of faith cannot be the basis of a sound, logical argument.”
“Why not? These leaps of faith are as factual as anything else. They simply cannot be proven.”
“But they seem awfully easy to disprove.”
The abbot nodded slowly. “They can seem that way, if your logic is flawed.”
“So, what was flawed about my conversation with Varabia?”
“Well.... I shall require some meditation on that question.”
“I thought you might say that.” He stood, and went to leave the room.
“Wait,” said the abbot. “Do you know you missed the evening service?”
Hyran hadn’t, but then realized he had been aware of the growing darkness. “Yes, Father.”
“You might be helped by the night oil.”
“Of course.” He knelt before the older Vle, and they said a few simple prayers. The drowsiness took him as he stood and walked out toward his cell.

Kelwome was quiet, waiting for the dawn. He hadn’t been seen leaving, and so he felt reasonably safe. [Redemption] He went to find Mecora’s house, and found the door open, as usual. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he went in. It was dark inside, but he could see anyway. He went through to the room Mecora shared with her mother. But only Caile was there, clutching a pillow tightly, as if she didn’t want it to go. [She needs me...] He left again, and went to the bakery. The baker was there, of course, but he had not yet opened; Hyran walked in anyway. “Hello,” he said, “Nice to see you again. Is there more advice I can give?”
“You said you thought we of the clergy ought to be more involved.”
“Yeah. If clergy were more involved, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”
“Problem?” Hyran didn’t know why he’d asked that, because he knew it was the proclamation.
But that’s not what the baker said. “Yeah. War, riots, suicides, poverty... should I continue?” [It must stop soon...]
“No, thank you. But I doubt the Rep can be convinced.” [Trust...]
The baker nodded. “I know.”
“You could try,” said Allega.
Hyran turned. How had he gotten here? “You want me to try?”
“Would it hurt? How much longer can you stay with the monastic life, knowing how bad things are in the camp?” [It must stop soon...]
“But I don’t know how bad things are,” replied Hyran.
“You will soon. You must go find out.” [Go...]
“But before you go,” said the baker, “You might see if any of your brothers up there will come along.”
“I could try.”
“The worst that could happen is that you will get thrown out,” said Allega.
“What about my vows?”
“You are only restricted by that which you allow to restrict you.”
He’d said that just that day! “But, what about my redemption? I could lose it.”
The responding voice sounded much larger than any of three voices he was hearing in his dream. “Trust!” they said. “Trust....”
[Trust...]

He’d never woken so energetically. He knew now what he had to do, he knew why, and he now knew that there was nothing, really, that could hold him back. He ate breakfast quickly, as the other monks gave him wondering looks. “What’s gotten under your robe, Hyran?” asked one.
“A dream,” was the only answer he gave.
When he was done, he took a bench, and began to talk. He talked about everything, events that all the monks knew about, and other events that only the townsfolk knew, and things the lord had said. He talked about the moral imperative to do what was right, to protect the lives and the freedom of all beings that was guaranteed by the Great Master. He talked about the inconsistencies and what that could possibly mean: that their faith in the consistency of the Great Master might be flawed! That got the most reaction.
And all of the reaction was negative. Most of them began to talk over him, telling him to step down and be quiet, that he should meditate before his redemption was revoked, that if that was how he believed, he didn’t belong as their brother anymore.
Through it all, he continued to talk. Then, a very solemn-faced abbot came over. The crowd quieted, but Hyran continued to talk.
“Hyran.”
The abbot’s tone was completely neutral, but it was enough to quiet Hyran. “Yes, Father.”
“This is not the way.”
“Yes, Father, but—”
“You are fighting a losing battle.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you continue?”
“Because I don’t expect to win today. But tomorrow, or the next day...”
“No, not today. Come.”
Hyran stepped down. What did the enigmatic abbot have in mind? Hyran followed all the way to the cathedral, and then up to the darkened altar. “Kneel,” said the abbot.
Hyran bent down reverently, as did the abbot beside him. “You believe you act with the blessing of the Great Master.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Though I find that hard to believe, I can see in your eyes that you believe you are. However, I find your actions so far destructive.”
“I merely ask another to join me.”
“Do you think that constructive?”
“Perhaps. If more believe that the light Vle must be freed, we can change the King’s mind.”
“That is the same rhetoric Varabia used.”
“It is logical rhetoric. It may even be what the Great Master wants.”
“And you would break your vows for a mere guess at what the Great Master wants?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Hyran, by the power invested in me by the Great Master, I absolve you of your vows. May you find the happiness and fulfillment in your future that you could not find here. The Great Master bless you and guide you, Amen.”
“Amen.”
“Two things, Hyran: that service means you can never again take the vows. Also, it does not asbolve you from your duty to the Mandates.”
“I understand.”
“Very well. You may continue to live here, until such time as you know where to go.”
Where to go. That was a problem: He had nowhere to go, and no money to get there. Oh, well, it was something to meditate on.

He woke up early again the next morning, again before the sun had risen. It was somewhat cool; the feel of approaching autumn was in the air. He lit the glowworms, and packed as best he could. The answer of where to go had come to him in a dream, and he wouldn’t require much more than the provisions he could carry to get him there. After all, if thousands of light Vle could walk five days, he certainly could for three.
He left as quietly as before, stopping only at the kitchen pantry to gather some food. He’d eat breakfast at the baker’s again, he decided. He went to the railing of the platform, then, and looked out at the dark forest for what could be the last time from that viewpoint.
Then, he descended the steps to the bridge to town with but one thing on his mind:
Home.

Monk

2009-05-05T02:41:00.001-06:00

It just wasn’t the same.
It felt to Hyran as if he had to strain his voice to its limits to help create even half the sound the choir had been able to make before. The chapel actually seemed empty now, with only dark-skinned Vle to praise and bless the Great Master.
Later, the copying cells seemed almost silent— it was as if no one wanted their quill to be heard. How badly would this affect the copying schedule? Could they keep up with the rate of decay?
It was finally at dinner that the subject was breached. “It doesn’t seem right to be without our brothers,” someone said into the silence at the table. Hyran thought perhaps the anonymous voice was the Abbot’s, but he couldn’t be sure.
“No,” agreed Tichel. “It seems to me that the Great Master would prefer to keep us together, so that more may praise and bless his name.”
“And yet we are commanded to do nothing,” said Hyran. A few gave him looks that said, ‘Well, of course not!’
“There is nothing to say that being elsewhere is an impediment to our brothers in praise of the Great Master. Indeed, they could create their own monastery within this camp of the King’s.”
“True, but they are now off the platform, contrary to their vows.”
“Not contrary. They had permission.”
Everyone looked at the head of the table. The abbot regarded his ‘sons’ with equanimity, and continued. “The King is qualified to allow any of us to leave.”
“As well as allow outsiders onto the platform?” someone asked.
The abbot shook his head. “No, that had to be either me or one of my superiors. And regardless of who gave such permission, it was not a choice. It was politics.”
The abbot’s tone was such that it was clear no more discussion would take place in that direction. After a pause, Brother Clarrow, sent the discussion in a new one: “So, do we pray for our brothers? Is there reason to think they are in danger? Or are they to be martyrs? Without understanding the outside world, we can’t know.”
“It makes no difference,” said a senior brother who was about on par with Allega. “We must trust in the Great Master either way. He has redeemed us, so that death means little to our souls.”
“But that does not absolve our duty to the souls of this world,” countered Hyran. “The Great Master’s redemption is not something everyone knows or accepts always, and therefore they are without comfort.”
The senior brother spread his hands. “What does that have to do with our brothers? They have accepted the redemption, and do not need our prayers.”
“But can we be sure they are still accepting? Did you see Allega as he led him away? The Vle was afraid for his life, shocked to the heart that something like this should occur. We must at least pray for his strength, as well as the strength of the others.”
“Are you saying that our brothers are less than completely dedicated?”
“Not at all. I am merely saying that this traumatic event will force them to reevaluate their— our religion.”
And then everyone turned away and ignored him for the rest of the evening.

As Hyran headed for the copying cells two days later, the abbot approached him. He got a bit worried— had the abbot been so displeased at his comments at dinner that he had just now cooled down enough to talk to him?
“Hyran? May I talk with a moment?”
“Of course, Father.”
“Brother Allega thought well of you.”
“We got along well, Father.”
“But, I mean to say, he thought highly enough that he recommended you for whatever advancement you desired to take. I’m afraid the garden still has one to tend it.”
Hyran smiled wryly. “I have begun to wonder if that will ever change.”
“No time soon, I’m sure. However, you are known for your... unorthodox theology. Not just here, but in other monasteries as well. I frankly find it curious that Allega should have thought so highly of you. However, there is no reason you cannot serve as my secretary today.”
“Today? As in, a temporary appointment?”
“Exactly. As you know, my secretary had to leave.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I have done quite well without him, so I am reluctant to replace him on a permanent basis. However, I would like your assistance this afternoon.”
“Is there a special duty you need me for, Father?”
“Yes. Lord Varabia has come to talk with us.”
“You have permitted his entry?”
“Yes. He is the lord of this land. He wishes to talk with me, so I have allowed him to come do so. Do you see a reason not to?”
“Well, only that he is the embodiment of politics. But I understand that you have agreed to see him as a petitioner. Of course, Father.”
“I’m glad you agree with me. Now, if you will accompany me when he arrives?”
“Yes, Father. When the lift bell rings, I shall come.”
“Very good. Good copying.”
“Thank you, Father.”
They parted, and Hyran went to copy, hoping he could keep his mind on it. If he served well as secretary, he could well get to stay— and skip being a mentor entirely...!
Best not get one’s hopes up.

The lift bell rang soon after lunch, and Hyran moved quickly to the lift. Below, a very distinguished-looking man stepped from an ornate coach, and onto the small platform which would bear him up. The lift operator of the day prodded the horse into action, and the lift moved slowly to the lower level where Hyran and the abbot waited.
When the lift was finally level, the two monks bowed, but only Hyran bowed low. “Greetings, Lord Varabia. It is a pleasure to have your presence grace our monastery,” said the abbot. “May I introduce Brother Hyran.”
Varabia gave Hyran a mere nod, and turned his attention back to the abbot. “I was wondering if I might call a conference of your most senior monks, Father.”
The abbot raised his brows. “A conference? The advice of one monk is not enough?”
“No, Father, I am afraid it is not.”
“Very well.” The abbot turned to Hyran, and nodded, which meant ‘Go ring the conference bell.’ Hyran did, and rejoined the two, who were deep in discussion about redemption, and what it meant to a lord such as Varabia. Hyran fell into step, and simply listened, as was his job for the day.
“So, you don’t agree with the idea that, since I’m a lord, I must have been redeemed by the Great Master before I was even born?” asked Varabia.
“No, because, as virtuous as you may be, you have the Creator’s instincts just like the rest of us, because you were born just like the rest of us. Those instincts, however, may lead you wrong. You need to be redeemed, so that you can restrict the influence of those instincts.”
“I see. So, then, by what right do I rule?”
“Oh, the Creator’s of course.”
“Which is what I thought. So, even though the Great Master redeems us equally, we’re still unequal because the Creator created us so.”
“Exactly.”
“I see. Some people think that belief in the Great Master means you can’t believe in the Creator anymore, and so they’re questioning the Created Right to Rule.”
“That’s nonsense. Someone had to Create all that we see, and it certainly wasn’t the Great Master.”
And then there were those, like Hyran, who did question the right to rule, but not the Creator. Was it wrong to say that the old Creation religion just had a few facts wrong?
They came to the hall of studies, and sat at the large conference table. The abbot sat at the head, of course, as was his custom, and Varabia sat to his right. Hyran took the left position, and then the senior brothers entered the hall.
“Greetings, Sons,” said the abbot. “Sitting here at my right hand is a petitioner, the estimable Lord of Varabia. I have not yet asked what his question is, so I cannot prepare you. Are there any questions?”
“Begging pardon, Father,” said an elderly man two positions down from Varabia, “if I may ask, by what right does Brother Hyran sit at your side?”
“He is my secretary for this meeting. He will not be contributing to the discussion, without my approval.”
Hyran hadn’t realized before how infamous his theology was. Obviously, some really disliked it! But that was not a concern for the moment.
“Are there any more questions?” The abbot’s query was met by only silence, so he said, “Then, we shall begin. My Lord?”
Varabia stood as the abbot sat; Hyran prepared his parchment and quill. “My most reverent brothers,” he began, “My concern, which I bring to you, is the recent proclamation by the King. I am sure you know which one I speak of— I can see vacancies even right here among you.
“The situation is much the same throughout my realm— whole towns, in some places, forced to pack up and walk for days; other towns are missing a large part of their mechant community. What it adds up to, my friends, is a large loss in revenue. That’s the purely pragmatic side. On the more emotional side, my family has been broken up by this move, we have intermarried so much. There are countless families with the same problems in towns, with friendships broken and Vle literally dying of grief.
“My request is not for only myself, however. I come on behalf of light Vle everywhere. This situation cannot continue, but I do not have enough power to convince the King that he is wrong. Your organization, however does. You can convince the Representative that he must order the king to change course. For the good of fifty thousand Vle, and the good of the kingdom, this I implore.”
He stopped, and sat. There was silence. Finally, the abbot said, “Surely you know of our vows.”
“Of non-interference in politics? That I do. But you must see beyond that. This isn’t just politics, these are lives we’re talking about. Suffering souls, and more may suffer if our light-Vle neighbors decide to wage war in defense of their kinsmen. I would be forced to take up arms against them— those I myself consider kinsmen.”
“It remains a political matter, My Lord,” said a senior brother near the far end of the table. “It is a King’s decree, a decsion he made based on political necessity. We cannot pretend to understand all the issues, and therefore we cannot pressure him in any way.”
Varabia gestured with his fists. “What issues do you need?! There is only one that matters here, and that is personal freedom. Our King does not have the right to take that away for any reason. If you pressure him to take a different action, then he will, and it will be one with nearly the same rationale. We do not need to fear interference here— only inaction.”
Another senior brother tried another tack. “The Great Master commands us— all of us— to look at all sides of an issue, before making a decision. Thus we will make wise, advantageous decisions. He also commands those of us who seek to know him as he knew himself to sequester ourselves so that we may come to know him without distraction. Unfortunately, that leaves us largely unaware of the greater issues beyond. We cannot interfere. The issue is not one merely one of freedom, but of the future. The Great Master has plans for the world, and it is not for us to guess at those plans.” The brother jabbed his pointer finger in Varabia’s direction. “If we did, we would be saying that our Great Master is inconsistent. He gave us these Mandates to be followed without exception, so that we would have no reason to interrupt his plans.”
The abbot joined in. “And as dire as the situation may be, it is well within the capacity of the Great Master to deal with. This may be part of his plan. We cannot say, because we cannot know.”
Varabia looked at all the faces around the table, and Hyran looked as well. Every single one was in agreement, and displayed confidence in that agreement. For a moment, Hyran wondered if he truly was in the right career.
[Trust...]
Varabia sat back. “Very well. I had to try.”
“Trust in the Great Master,” the monks chorused, and stood, filing out, leaving Hyran and the abbot with the disappointed lord.
“That is not the answer you wanted,” observed the abbot.
Varabia shook his head. “No, it is not.”
The abbot stood, and so did Hyran. “Thank you, Hyran. I shall not need your services further today.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Come, I shall see you away,” said the abbot to Varabia.
The lord shook his head. “Might I meditate some more before I go?”
The abbot inclined his head a small degree. “If that is your wish.” He then walked out, but Hyran did not follow.
“You don’t seem to agree with the others,” Varabia stated.
“No. I don’t know if it’s just my youth, or a lack of belief, or my different background, but I cannot agree.”
“Hmph. I came expecting to come away with an entire organization at my side, but instead I have only an abbot’s secretary. Unless you happen to have his ear...?”
“Hardly. He told me, literally, that I am known for my unorthodox views. I served as his secretary only for today.”
“Hmm.” Varabia slumped into an undignified posture in his chair. “Essentially, we’re in the same predicament, you and I. Our hands are tied behind our backs by our superiors, without a way to change their minds; the only path for us is the path they choose.”
Hyran had a thought. “I once copied a text, which said that we are only constrained by our own selves. No one can really constrain us, we only choose to accept that constraint. You could choose differently.”
“As could you.”
“N-no, my constraints are held by The Great Master himself. He can indeed constrain us.”
“Can he? How? He didn’t constrain the King’s hand, when he sat to write the proclamation. He didn’t constrain the soldiers who came to take half my subjects away. He didn’t constrain the builders of the camp.”
“Then we can only assume it is his will, however odd it seems.”
Varabia was warming up. He sat forward and said, “Then, as your own brothers have said, he would be inconsistent! For did The Great Master not guarantee that all beings of all races be free to make their own choices, within his own guidelines?”
“He did.” Hyran couldn’t believe it. Varabia was right! Something had to faulty in the logic, however, because it seemed too good to be true. Or too bad, depending on the viewpoint. After all, either way, the Great Master appeared to be inconsistent. He sat down opposite Varabia.
"Well, I apologize for troubling you. Would you show me to the chapel?"
"Of course." The walk to the chapel was short, and quiet, allowing Hyran to sink deep in thought. He did not notice when Varabia stood and left.

2009-05-01T14:45:00.000-06:00

He reported directly to his father upon his return. “It sounded rather dire, Father.”
“They aren’t too happy with me, I imagine.”
“No, I got the impression that they’re not.”
“Did the ambassador have any suggestions?”
Taréz shook his head. “No, but I was hoping he did. The camp is a huge expense, and a much larger project than the South Hall.”
“I know. Did he have anything else to say?”
“Well, one, there is apparently the scent of war. By a unified force. They don’t fear Gardric.”
“I suspected as much. I’ll have to order Gardric to plan a defense... and to prepare very, very discreetly. We don’t want to appear to ready to fight this out. And that was all?”
“No, though it seems somewhat inconsequential in the face of everything else. Watchers reported a less than favorable account of how I interacted with Princess Rakeynna, and her father is less than pleased, especially in light of events here.”
“That is not inconsequential. A snub to a man’s daughter, real or imagined, can very easily set him at edge. If there is talk of unifying for a war effort, he may well be the nucleus, all due to how he feels you treated his daughter.”
“Politics!” Taréz snorted.
“For what it’s worth, I thought you handled the situation well. Rakeynna doesn’t have the most favorable reputation.”
“If it weren’t for Pimber, I’d say I prefer war to a woman any time.”

It wasn’t very often that Taréz got to see the Chief of the Army out of his element, but this was one time. He had a report that Yis would normally have done: the quarterly receipts from the nobles’ taxes.
“We have received ten thousand four hundred eighty platin crowns, thirty-four thousand nineteen gold shillings, and fifty-eight thousand one hundred ninety silver marks,” he reported, “Down roughly twenty percent in each category.”
The King’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Twenty percent?! Are you sure?”
“Y— uh, no, I’m not, Your Majesty. Math was never my strong suit.”
“Let me see.” Gardric handed the parchment accounting tables to the King, seemingly glad to get rid of them. The King looked them over, and worked at them for a while. Finally, he let out a low whistle. “I liked the figures better before. If my math is correct, the figures are down thirty percent.”
Thirty percent?! “By the Great Master!” excalimed Taréz. “This situation had better resolve itself soon! May I see?” He looked at the figures again, and saw that receipts were down throughout the kingdom, and almost completely wiped out in the areas that were now depopulated (of course). “Gardric, I hope you realize that the results would be the same if we had simply evicted all the light Vle.”
“But then, we would never have to support them, as you are doing now.”
“But even if we didn’t end up with a war, we’d never get the light Vle back. We need the light Vle, Gardric. It’s all right here on this sheet of parchment.”
“Sire, their jobs can easily be refilled by us.”
“No, they cannot! Our people are too busy already.”
Just then, Stecky came into the chamber and addressed the King. “Sire, a pigeon has brought a message for you.”
“From whom?”
“Yis, Sire.” He handed the small roll to the king, who unrolled it and squinted to read the writing aloud. “Your Majesty,
I respectfully greet you, and hope all is well in the palace. I write because all is not well here. Construction is lagging far behind the arrival rate, and we badly need more laborers to help, as well as more materials. I may be able to convince some more of my people to help, but that still leaves the problem of materials! Please, Sire, send more.
Your servant, Yis.”
“Yis wants more money, Gardric,” Taréz said.
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Gardric! He’s only doing what he thinks best for his people! Now, let’s see what we can give him.”
“Yes, Sire.”
The three Vle pored over the accounting tables again, and found that there would actually be a shortfall that year. Which, of course, meant a shortfall for the next year as well. There simply was no money.
The King collapsed in the chamberlain’s chair, his face a blank weariness.

2009-04-29T03:35:00.000-06:00

The road went along a high ridge, which was apparently composed of unproductive earth, because no trees grew on it. That made it particularly well suited for the King’s private road, since it was impossible to hide on either side of the road. Such a consideration was moot now, but it still made Gardric sit up straight, as if in pride.
Taréz simply liked the view it afforded over his forest. The sea of deep green stretched seemingly forever; other ridges stuck out like light-green wave crests. Here and there, a hole in the canopy indicated a meadow roughly 100 feet below.
The coach turned off the ridge, and went steeply down along the left side into the forest. It wasn’t very far to the meadow where the camp had been established, and Gardric had appropriated one of the trees nearby as his. The coach drove directly into the hollow at the base of the tree, where it stopped and the driver dismounted. He opened the door for Taréz, and Gardric stood beyond. “This way, Sire,” he said, indicating a lift.
The prince followed his Chief and waited as the sackfuls of soil bore them up to the second canopy. There was only a narrow platform facing the camp below. It was also mounted on hinges, so that it could fold up and protect the occupants of the observation chamber. This was where the Prince stayed, looking out the windows at the scene below.
And what a scene it was: Never before had such a conglomeration of Vle formed on the earth itself. Groups formed around piles of household items, and stones and wood were scattered thoughout as some Vle worked to put them together into housing. A fence had been erected, and it already appeared as if its circumference wasn't large enough. There were still light Vle arriving as the Prince watched, prodded and directed to various parts. However, the Prince was not wholly pleased. “They had to walk?!”
“Of course, Sire. There are not enough wagons in all of Larmania for everyone.”
“Still, I think it would have been nice to have some sort of trade off. Some ride, some walk. Order it so.”
Something clouded the Chief’s expression. “Yes, Sire.”
Taréz looked below again. “The soldiers don’t seem too particularly polite.”
“Sire, they are but soldiers. Some do not know the art of holding one’s tongue, or one’s temper.”
“Then teach them, Gardric!”
“Yes, Sire.”
“There are Vle without a roof over their heads.”
“We don’t have enough wood here—”
“We’re not operating a prison, Gardric! I shouldn’t have to tell you these things! Make their stay as comfortable as possible! It’s bad enough that I’ll have to endure their gripes about being here— I don’t want to hear about them sleeping in cramped, cold conditions!”
“Yes, Sire.”
That pretty much covered the concerns he had. But it still bothered him that the concerns couldn’t be addressed instantly. “Is this the right thing to do?”
Gardric made a gesture that Taréz had never seem him do before: he shrugged. “It was your idea, Sire.”
“Yes, but is Father solving the striking problem? Will they go docilely back to their jobs when he lets them go?”
“Why let them go?”
“Because we can’t afford to simply house and feed them and go without banking and mining profits.”
“We have more than enough qualified replacements.” Sometimes Gardric was so good at missing the point. He paused, and then said, “You are a wise prince. Your father has taught you well.”
“Thank you, Gardric.” Taréz allowed a small smile, but it didn't stay long.
“Of course, Sire.”
But there was someone else he needed to see. “I’ll send for you when I want to go. Send for Yis. Dismissed.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Taréz turned his attention to the headache below as he waited. What would Yis say? Would it be possible to remain civil?
Would Yis ever forgive his King?
“You asked for me, Sire?”
Taréz turned to see Yis in the doorway. “Yes. How are things here?” Suddenly, Taréz realized that was really a stupid question.
Yis answered anyway. “Well, more and more Vle are coming faster than we can accomodate.”
“I noticed.”
“There has been enough food so far, and we have a number who have volunteered to cook for us.”
“Good. What do you think of the possibility of there being a self-contained economy in there? I’m sure they’ll appreciate having a somewhat meaningful existence.” Another faux pas there. Meaningful?
Yis, bless his heart, answered that question as calmly as ever. “I was thinking the same thing, Sire. We have talents that we’d rather not waste.”
Was there an implication there? Ouch. “Of course. Has there been any violence?”
“No. For the most part, we have obeyed without complaint. Any violence is on the soldiers’ part.”
Taréz noted Yis’ use of the pronoun ‘we.’ He was separating himself, now, grouping himself with his kinsmen. He would not have done that as chamberlain. “Good. You will notify me immediately of any emergency?”
“Of course, Sire.”
“Very well. Thank you for your report.”
Yis bowed. “Your Highness.” He then turned, and left.

A few days later, a request from the Zvaljan ambassador came by pigeon to the King, a request to meet the Prince on Larmanian-Zvaljan border in the eastern forest. This was a country that didn’t have much in relations with other countries; when they did, they chose carefully. So, Taréz knew they had something to say, something like a warning, perhaps.
The trip took four days by coach, across vast tracts of forest, carefully taking whatever unforested ridges were available. Finally, they arrived in Ubrine. They passed under towns, some with exquisite treeshaping, that only creaked in the wind— No rumble of a thousand Vle feet nor murmur of a thousand voices in any of them. It was a quiet, empty forest. In reflection, the Prince realized that perhaps this emptiness was good for nature.
The selected site was a meadow on the border, at a spot beyond the range of an arrow. Beyond rose the snow-covered mountains, the only place snow could ever be seen in Larmania. The meeting place could also be said to be among the coolest inhabeted ares of the country.
The Zvaljan ambassador rode out of the forest on his side, accompanied by only a few horsemen. Taréz selected a horse, and got on from the coach step. As was Zvaljan custom, the meeting would take place entirely on horseback. The Prince chose three soldiers, tit for tat, and headed out to the line. They both stopped and turned their horses to stand parallel with the line, which ran more straight here than anywhere else along their frontier.
“Your Highness,” said the ambassador. “I am Thove Gromas.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“My lord, the King of Zvalja, is most gratified that you agreed to meet me. It shows some... openness of thought.”
“My father taught me that when the ambassador of Zvalja asks for a meeting, it is best to go and listen well. We are surprised, however that the request was to meet with me and not the King himself.”
“It is generally known that Your Highness is, naturally, more involved in the kingdom than your father. Thus, the thought goes, perhaps Your Highness would be more open to our message.” “You have something to tell me?”
“I do. The kingdoms of the light Vle are concerned about recent events in your kingdom.”
“As am I, ambassador. There are events which made security a real concern. My father is attempting to deal with the problem.”
“I shall communicate that to my lord the king. He will undoubtedly ask, however, if there is not another, more... respectable solution to the problem.”
“If there is one, we have not yet found it. In the meantime, I place my honor on the promise that no Vle of light color will find his life in jeopardy.”
“That is indeed a promise of great significance. It would be well for you to keep it.”
“Of course. I sense, however, that you have an incentive for me to do so.”
“I do. There is talk of mounting a united offensive against your nation, in defense of light Vle. Plans are not firm, of course, but our military leaders are no longer afraid of the might of your army.”
“Indeed? That is most interesting. I highly doubt the Chief would be amused.”
“That would be understandable. He is regarded with respect in some circles, as you may know. However, as respectable as his skills are, your kingdom is not as secure as it once was. Of course, there is always a way out.”
“Yes, I know. Someday, we shall find that way out.”
“May I ask what may be a sensitive question?”
“You may, but I cannot guarantee an answer.”
“Very well. Your Highness is next in line for the throne. Do you know how you might handle this situation?”
“No, I do not. I find myself trapped in the same dilemma, though. Is there talk of killing my father?”
“None that I know of, but that is not to say it couldn’t happen. No, my point referred to his viewpoint regarding the light Vle population of the world. Some say Your Highness was... less than gracious to the Princess of A’peine at a ball.”
Taréz arched his brows. “Less than gracious? I have always endeavored to maintain perfect manners. Indeed, watchers may have noticed that I paid no attention to skin color at that dance.”
“I don’t know anything about what watchers may have seen, only what His Majesty the King of A’peine has reported.”
“In which case, he has a one sided view of the situation. If a slight was made, it was unintentional. Again, I stake my honor upon it.”
“You are very free with what you stake your honor upon, but I shall accept it. Nevertheless, know your enemy.”
“I acknowledge your warning.”
“Once again, I thank you for listening. It was most gracious of you.”
“I will not hesitate to listen again, should you ask it.”
“Fare well, Your Highness.”
“Fare well, Ambassador.”
The two men rode off in their separate ways. The ambassador had given Taréz much to think about, and think was all he did for the entire trip back to the palace.

Prince

2009-04-28T02:34:00.002-06:00

Prince Taréz could not remember his father ever being nervous like he appeared to be now. Some nobles were on their way to the palace, to join him on the hunt the next morning. Not just any nobles: they were mostly southern and eastern nobles, those whose lands were most affected by the temporary eviction of the light Vle. He stood in a sitting room, looking out the window over the entrance drive, wondering who would show up first. There was politics in everything, even the order in which one shows up at the palace of one more noble than yourself. To arrive too early was to presume too much; and yet to arrive after someone more prominent than yourself was to do the same. It was a silly game, since there was absolutely no way to find out how much further the others had to go. Invariably, there would be a number of silly excuses for why the arrival time was later or earlier than it ought to have been.
The first coach pulled up next to the door, and Taréz merely watched. Greeting the guests was his mother’s duty; his father would appear only when everyone else had arrived. By then, maybe, he would have figured out just what he was going to say.
Once the first noble arrived, the game began, and the coaches bunched up in the drive, jockeyeing for just the right position. Some brought wives and/or sons, some didn’t. Below, the Queen was greeting them all with the same beautiful smile, regardless of their position or order of arrival. There were murmurs that she was simply faking it all, hiding her true thoughts with that smile, but Taréz knew better. She was one of the most genuine people he knew.
The last noble disappeared from view, meaning he was now inside. It was the King’s cue, and Taréz had to be down there first. Oh his way down, he met Stecky, the dark Vle who had been Yis’ assistant, coming up the stairs. The King had never promoted the Vle, who now served as Gardric’s palace attaché, because he simply didn’t have the seniority or the panache required for all the responsibilties of the job. Which was why Gardric now held some of those. Besides, Yis would be wanting the job back. Hopefully.
Taréz took his place near the front of the dark-skinned crowd beside the Queen, and turned to wait for his father. Stecky appeared first, coming to the stairway and down about halfway. The King paused at the top, and waited for Stecky to make the announcement.
“May I present His Majesty King Lajot the Twenty-fourth.”
That was the cue to bow while the King came down the stairs. The Queen took his arm, and smiled as gracefully as ever. “Good evening.” All straightened, and he continued, “Shall we dine?” He turned and led the way into the dining hall.
“It is good to see that the palace is in good repair,” said Lord Varabia. “They say that the state of the King’s palace reflects the state of the Kingdom.”
“Not necessarily,” countered Lajot, taking his position at the head of the table. The lord was placed at Taréz’s left, for he was the lord of the greatest fiefdom of those present. The Queen, of course, was at Lajot’s right. He continued, “There are many cases in which the Kingdom suffers because too much is spent on the palace itself.”
“But you have always been a modest King,” replied Lord Rollaine. “Is it not true that the funds for your new wing have been saved up over many years?”
“It is true.” Taréz knew that the conversation would not stay with such pleasant banter for long. The funds that were once earmarked for that wing now were being used to build the camp— and he could only hope it would be enough. “That method is a far smaller burden on the economy.” That, he knew, would send the conversation right over the brink— might as well get it over with.
“Many kings would not concern themselves so with the economy,” said Varabia. “Many kings would simply move their subjects off their property willy-nilly, and expect them to start over and be productive again.”
Willy-nilly? That was how it looked to them? Had they not received Gardric’s report? And how long would they continue this vagueness?
“And then there are the times when such an action is necessary,” his father replied.
A young noble named Lord Lacigia, who was without much influence, asked, “And you would consider depriving me of all my subjects a necessary action?”
Taréz could see his father’s face ease a little. All eyes were now on him, waiting for an answer. “Yes, I made my decision based on facts brought to my attention by both my former chamberlain and Gardric. I must apologize if I have left you alone in your lands, but I assure you that I intend to return all the light Vle to their property in due time.”
“And, if I may ask, Sire, when is ‘in due time’?” asked Varabia.
“Frankly, I don’t know. Gardric and I must discuss that in more detail.”
Lord Dabendaben leaned forward. “If I remember correctly, Gardric comes from a long line of bigots.”
“That would not be far from the truth,” replied Lajot. “I have long had to take his recommendations carefully. However, he is also an honorable Vle. He would not lie to me, nor follow my orders to anything less than the full letter. As long as I make myself specifically clear, I can count on him to obey me.”
“That may be so, Your Majesty,” said Varabia. “But is it not possible that he has slowly clouded your judgement? No offense, but you have worked with him for a very long time.”
“I have indeed. However, I have worked with him for the same amount of time as you have had light Vle as subjects. If we say that my judgement is clouded, then it is reasonable to assume that your collective judgement is clouded as well. I know that all of you are aware of the recent troubles that we have had without miners.” There were various noises of assent. “And you are also aware of the bankers’ strike.” More nodding heads. “Consider also: The troubles with our South Hall construction project have been suspicious, including one incident which could have killed me, and a rogue leather-worker who was suspiciously in the wrong part of the palace.”
“But, these are—” began Lord Dabendaben, but Lajot cut him off.
“There is one last thing. Are you aware of the border incursion by a Varmacian scout troop?”
That did surprise them somewhat. “These are indeed trying times, Your Majesty,” said the lord of Creaz. “We must tread carefully.”
“Indeed. I would very much like to keep my line on the throne— no other country can claim a dynasty as unbroken as mine. And, unfortunately, the events of the past year seem to indicate that I am in danger. I cannot afford to remain passive, and simply hope everything works out.”
“This still seems a rather drastic solution,” said Varabia. “Our neighbors are quite unhappy about your actions.”
Lajot nodded. “I know. King Baran canceled our summit as soon as he heard about my proclamation.” That was something that bothered Taréz to quite a degree: Didn’t it make sense that such a summit was all the more necessary, to keep communication going and thereby divert war? Undoubtedly the Varmacian king was now fuming.
The table was silent for a few minutes. Finally, the Queen asked, “Can we now have a conversation about something else?”
The King squeezed his wife’s arm. “Yes, my dear. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Oh, perhaps the next ball. It’s only a month away.”
“Great! Now I just hope I have the money to attend,” said Lord Lacigia dryly.
That caused a little bit more silence before the rest of the guests decided that a new topic was indeed needed.

The day after the hunt, Taréz sat in his chamber, deep in thought.

Is my father doing the right thing?

Is there a proper course of action?

Is my father doing the right thing?

Is there a proper course of action?
|
|
|
"Gardric!"
Only a moment passed before the chief appeared in the doorway. “Sire?”
“We’re going to visit the camp.”
“Well, Sire, I don’t know if that’s necessary just yet—”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t finished.”
“Fine. I want to see how it’s coming.”
“Things are still quite rough. I don’t know if I can provide enough security...”
“You’ll do your best. Is there a place where I can observed without being observed?”
“Of course. My office there has some observation windows.”
“Very well. Call the coachmaster, and have him prepare one of our plainest coaches.”
“As you say, Sire.” He walked off, while the prince went into his bedroom and changed into his plainest hunting clothes.

2009-04-23T03:04:00.000-06:00

That night, Hyran went to bed, but the debate went on in his mind. All the ways that he looked at the situation led to but one conclusion: The Church of the Great Master had a unique position to influence the direction of the King’s policy. True, it set a dangerous precedent. It was also true that there was no guarantee that the King didn’t have good reasons (whatever could they be?!). Furthermore, there was no reason to think that lives were in danger. It was a simple infringement of the freedom of the light Vle.
Hyran gave up on sleep and got up. With a wave, he lit his glowworm lamp, and put on his shoes. It was dead quiet, and opening his door shattered that silence. Nevertheless, it did not seem to wake anyone, so he slipped out. Carefully, he closed his door again, and walked on down the hall. Soon, he was outside, in the clear, cool air. He breathed deeply, and with his glowworms providing light, he walked on down to town.
It was still a half hour until sunrise when he arrived, but Vle were already moving around. Bakers slaved away making the day’s fresh bread, and other shopkeepers arrived to set up shop for the day. There was not a single light face there. He wandered the town, counting houses that had the locks thrown— a sure sign that the owner was gone. Apparently, the light Vle had gone; on their own, or by force, Hyran didn’t yet know.
The sky above brightened to a dark blue, and his glowworms were no longer necessary. He chose a baker’s shop, and ordered a small pastry to break his fast.
“Brother! What are you doing here, out of season?” asked the baker.
“I heard the news about the proclamation. I came to see for myself,” replied Hyran.
“Well, it’s been good for business, for me, at least. Most of the bakers in this town were light, so now I have more customers. But there were fewer light Vle in the chemist business, so they’re suffering from loss of customers.”
Hyran nodded. “What about daily life? I mean, outside of business?”
“Well, parties aren’t nearly as much fun. There aren’t as many people, of course, and we’re still kinda too depressed to celebrate.”
“I can understand that. What about the kids?”
“Well, it depends. A lot of them had light friends, and some miss having the more talented athletes on their teams. There were those who just happened to have only dark friends, and they don’t seem too affected. But the toughest are the ones in mixed families.”
Hyran nodded again.
“So, would you like anything to eat this morning?”
“Well, I would, but I have no money—”
“No matter. I can spare one or two. It’s nice to have one of you guys care about what’s going on. I mean, I know it’s against your vows, but I knida think that oughta be changing now. You’re losing touch.”
Hyran didn’t reply to that, but asked, “Could I possibly have that jelly-filled one?”
“Certainly.” The baker took it from its box and handed it to the monk. Then, the shop began to fill up with customers, and the baker had to get back to work.
Amid a few looks of surprise, Hyran finished his pastry, waved to the baker, and headed out. The town was moving again, but it seemed very dead compared to Deschule week. Though that was somewhat to be expected, it seemed as though a disaster had ocurred.
Hyran realized that that was exactly right— a disaster had ocurred, right under the collective nose of the monastery. Had it been a gale-force wind, or a fire, the monks would not have hesitated to give whatever aid they could. But this was the result of politics, and therefore not technically a disaster.
Perhaps their place in society ought to change, indeed.
Hyran glanced at the Vle coming and going, wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of Mecora or Caile. He wasn’t surprised that he didn’t, but he did notice the rather glum look on the faces he saw. Even the older children showed it.
Faintly above the mumble of the townsfolk, Hyran heard the bell at the monastery ringing, calling the monks to their daily dedication. It was time to return, so he took off running. As he ran, he heard the sound of a number of hoofbeats below. He did not spare the time to look, lest he be later than he already was.
Breathlessly, he slipped into line. “Good morning, brothers,” he said between gasps. He had gotten out of shape, sitting so long behind that desk! Perhaps he needed to take up exercise. Wouldn’t that get his brothers’ attention!
Mentally, he calmed his breathing, and the procession moved in, chanting their songs as always. However, he could hear the sound of heavy footsteps, and those behind him stopped singing. Apparently, though, everything was okay, because the service went on as normal.
It was only when they filed out again, that they found out what was going on. A troop of soldiers was at the monastery, in a place thought inviolable by the outside. Certainly everyone knew that it was forbidden to be on the platform without express consent of the abbot or a higher authority. Who had authorized this?
One soldier stood on a bench, and assumed a commanding pose. “By the order of King Lajot the twenty-fourth, I hereby command all light Vle, that is, all those who trace ancestry to the island of Kamilea, to take up their belongings and come to the Light Vle’ Camp. You will have one hour to comply.” Then, he stepped back off the bench.
There was confusion and then compliance. As odd as the situation was, who would dare harm a monk? Hyran watched the dark population move to the copying room, while the light population moved to their cells. Valans passed, not seeing Hyran.
“Brother Valans!” he called.
Valans stopped, and came over. “I should have known it would happen this way. Who knows, maybe it was meant to be.”
“Perhaps. Good luck.”
“Thanks. I hope I can walk that far.”
“You’ll make it.”
“Well, I’d better go. I only have an hour.”
“Yeah. Nice getting to know you.”
“It was, it was.” And then, because it was just getting too awkward to say anything more, Valans joined the cell-ward stream.

Hyran just stood watching the activity. The hour went quickly, as some monks were ready early and were herded down. Valans waved sadly as he walked down the stairs. Among the last to go was a very shocked-looking Allega.
Allega! It hadn’t seemed possible that such a distiguished old man could ever leave. Allega, gone! Who was he to talk to, now? Who else could possibly understand, let him ruminate his way around to an acceptable answer?
Finally, everyone was gone, leaving just him and a few older monks out on the platform. Hyran turned, and saw the abbot out on his balcony, impassive as ever. He noticed Hyran’s gaze, and left the balcony.

That evening, he stood at the railing, meditating some more on the events of the day. Valans, gone after only one day. Allega, gone after many decades. And all of it possible only with the express consent of someone powerful within the church.
“Worried for our new brother?”
Hyran hadn’t been aware that anyone was there, but the abbot himself now stood at his side. “Yes, Father, and everyone else.”
“I can tell. It’s in your aura.”
“Is there a problem with that?”
The abbot looked up at him. “You tell me, Son.”
“You probably want me to say, there is, because The Great Master protects those who serve him.”
“You don’t seem sure of it.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not sure why, but all of this... It seems like... Like some sort of mistake.”
“Well, it is, on the King’s part. He’ll learn soon enough.”
“How?”
“Well, I don’t know. He just will.”
“We could tell him.”
“Now, Hyran, you know the rules.”
“Yes, but I’m just not convinced they apply in this case.”
“Rules exist for a reason, especially ones given by the Great Master Himself.”
“Of course.”
“Keep meditating. The answer will come.” The abbot walked away as silently as he had come.
So, Hyran did continue, so deeply that he did not notice his second visitor at first, even when she tugged on his sleeve.
He came to and looked down. It was dark, and he could barely see the young face looking up at him. “Hyran?”
“Mecora? What are you doing here?” In the face of all that had happened, he found it difficult to be mad at her for being on the platform without permission. (The abbot never granted such permission, except to neophytes, and especially not to girls.)
“I had to come. Life is so horrible now.”
“You haven’t gotten over your grief yet.”
“How am I supposed to, without any friends?!”
“There aren’t any new friends you can make?”
“No.” Hyran suspected that it was the memory of her friends in the way. “Well, you’ll make some soon. Just wait.”
“But, I don’t want to wait. I want them back now! I almost wish I could just go and bring them back.”
“They’ll be back someday.”
“They’d better be.”
They stood in silence a moment, until Hyran could hear a soft sobbing. Hyran put his hand on her far shoulder, prompting her to put her arms around him. It surprised him, but he didn’t flinch. If he could add some needed comfort, he would provide it. The problem was, it could only be this once.
Finally, he was getting sleepy, and he didn’t want her to fall asleep standing there. “Mecora, are you still awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Can you make it home?”
“Yeah.” She let go, and rubbed her eyes.
“You’d better take some glowworms.” Hyran stood on a bench and took the jar from the top of the lamp post. This he gave to her. “Consider it a gift.”
“Won’t someone wonder?”
“It’s rather windy tonight, isn’t it?”
“No,” she began, but then she understood. “Thanks!”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”

2009-04-22T02:33:00.002-06:00

Sending a letter was usually an undependable thing, but between Kelwome and the monastery, it was guaranteed that the letter would arrive safe and sound. For that very reason, some monks chose to have pen-pals in town, a permitted contact with the outside world that gave another view on the theology and knowledge gained from the texts they copied.
Hyran, of course, was one of those, and he generally corresponded with those who he’d stayed with during Deschule week. Valans, it turned out, already had some correspondents. Hyran discovered this when a boy from town brought up a small taschel of mail the day after Valans’ vow-taking and called out the names of those who would receive something.
Hyran got something, too, from everyone he wrote to. He sat next to Valans on a bench by the railing, and broke the wax seal on one of the letters.
It was from the Baydacks. The penmanship was crabbed, more hurried than usual; the letter itself was very short. It read:
“Brother Hyran! Have you heard? The King has ordered all light Vle to leave their homes and move to a camp! Can this be right? Is there any way that you can help? Surely, the Representative will be able to reverse this decision!
“I don’t know if we will still be here in a few days, so don’t bother to write. I know you will do what is best. Regards,
The Baydacks.”
Hyran sat back, shocked. Why would the King order such a thing? It made no logical sense. He opened another letter, and another; whether written by light or dark hands, they all mentioned a proclamation the King had made. And here he sat next to a light-skinned Vle. “I just got the most curious letter from town,” he said.
“Some very odd things are afoot in the world beyond, Brother. I assume you’re referring to the proclamation?”
“Yes. It doesn’t seem possible.”
“To me, neither. But it’s why I came here. I can’t very well break my vows and quit being a priest just in order to avoid being put in a camp, so I came to take more vows.”
“You chose one camp over another, then.”
“Hmm! I’d never thought of it that way. Anyway, even though there’s no indication that I’d be killed or seriously wounded in the camp, I just feel this is a better place. Maybe they won’t come here.”
“I hope not. We’d lose a lot of very good brothers.” Hyran paused. “I almost wish it were possible to leave, just to see what’s going on down there.”
“And now I can’t, either.”
Hyran shrugged. “We can only trust in the Great Master, as we’re supposed to.”
“Yes. Indeed.”
There was one more letter, and he opened it, wondering if it would be just another explanation of events. But it wasn’t, exactly: in a very careful script, but with many spelling errors, Mecora had written:
“Hyran, sumthing verry terrable is hapuning. Their gowing to maik the lite vle liv in a camp. Their taking my frends away frum me! And last nite, Handa dide, too, so now I’ll hav no frends at all. And almost haf the town has tu go, so their are fuwer plases to shop and hav fun. Pleez help, or at least be my frend?
Mecora”
This letter was very different from the others. While the letters written by light Vle calmly asked for prayers and influence with the Rep (and through him, the King), the letters by dark Vle even more calmly told of the situation and other town news. This letter, however, was an emotional plea to help her friends. The girl had suffered a big loss, and needed a friend. She also had given some idea of what changes the town faced. With a third of the people gone, it would be much, much more quiet.
“What is it?” asked Valans. “Did someone die?”
Hyran finally realized he was crying. “Yes, but it’s more than that. Right now my vows are really in my way.”
“I never expected to meet a monk who would say that.”
“Most won’t. But then, it’s not always easy. Temptation is always around the corner. You must watch out for it.”
“I will,” said Valans.

Never had anything weighed on Hyran’s heart as much as this proclamation did. In fact, the non-involvement vow had really been quite easy to keep until now.
That afternoon, Valans was off in the chapel praying for guidance in his new venture. That left Hyran on his own, as well, simply waiting outside should Valans have any questions. The rest of the brothers at his level were at their copying desks, occupying their time. Hyran wished he had something to do that would keep his mind off the proclamation, but he supposed that whatever he did, he’d be rather unproductive at it. And how was he to answer a new brother’s questions if he couldn’t answer his own?
Allega came around the tree, deep in thought as usual, and enjoying the freedom of his level. Always observant, though, he noticed Hyran, and came over. “There seems to be something occupying your mind.”
Hyran nodded. “I got a large stack of letters from Kelwom.”
“You are normally quite happy when you receive but one. Bad news comes in wagonfuls?”
“You might say that. The King has issued a proclamation, sending all light Vle to a camp near the palace. It’s the real reason Valans has joined us.”
The unflappable Allega didn’t seem purturbed in the least. “To save himself.” It was a statement that neatly summed up the situation.
“Yes. He seems to accept it, even better than I can.”
“You knew the danger when you elected to receive letters.”
“Yes, I did. And I do not regret it.”
“Even though you’re hurting now?”
“Sure. Ignorance, though bliss, can only impede spiritual growth.”
“That’s true.”
“The question is, what to do now? I can’t very well initiate Valans with a burning quandary in my head.”
Allega shrugged. “I disagree. You are showing him a part of the brotherhood that most initiates never see.”
“That’s all well and good, but does it help him learn our theology?”
“He is a priest already. I think he knows our theology fairly well.”
“But he doesn’t know mine,” Hyran complained, “he only knows what he is supposed to know for the benefit of the town. And now mine’s completely up in the air.”
“My, my, you really are broken up about this. But let me ask: What can you possibly do?”
“Nothing! That’s just it. I can do nothing, but something needs to be done. More than one villager suggested I alert the Rep in Kezantopil— I’m sure he could use his influence with the King to reverse the proclamation.”
“That would be political interference.”
Hyran nodded. “I know.”
“And you have only one part of the story. What can you know of the real issues, being secluded up here? The whole reason we have this non-interference is because we cannot always have the whole story. We may think we’re acting in the best interests of those we help, but how do we know, really? We cannot. We must guess. And for one as revered and virtuous as the Rep to direct a change when he does not know all the consequences... That simply cannot be allowed.”
“I know.”
“So you must simply accept that The Great Master has everything in his sight, and that he will do what is necessary.”
“That is what I am having trouble with right now.”
“Hmm. Our most basic tenet.”
Hyran nodded.
Allega remained silent a moment, meditating. Then, Valans came out, looking somewhat driven, and also somewhat unsure. “I was wrong.”
Hyran looked at him again, more attentive now. “Explain, brother.”
“I had thought that my purpose in coming here was to remain safe, but I was wrong. My purpose here is something different. We must tell the King he is wrong.”
Allega dipped his head to one side. “Hyran, have you been dumping your insecurities on a new brother? That is not good.”
“No, Brother, I have not. He has been aware of my insecurity, but I have not explained it to him.”
Meanwhile, Valans looked at the two, surprised at their reaction. He tried again. “Don’t you see where our responsibility lies? We are united across lines, here! We have the power to pressure the King!”
“Valans, remember your oaths,” Allega reminded gently.
“But they are not relevant now! We cannot let this continue.”
Hyran muttered, “We have no choice.”
Valans now remained silent, and hung his head. “I don’t know if I can indeed be a monk, then. But The Great Master is calling.”
Allega just blinked. “We have a test for the truth of a calling. You may be aware that some can be false, the product of a mere human wish. So, would you like—”
“But I can tell... You don’t believe me.”
“We find it difficult to believe the Great Master would call on you to convince us to break His own mandates, and the vows we’ve made.”
Hyran thought, Who’s ‘we’? And then he decided to say it.
Allega looked surprised. “Hyran? I’ve known you to be a bit of a rebel in your own way, but... This is simply going too far.”
“You misunderstood me, Brother. I meant to say that I don’t find it difficult to believe. Who are we to second guess the Great Master?”
“Well, no one, but—”
“Especially in a situation like this. Is it inconceiveable that He should want to protect his people, and that we are the ones to help, to do his work here in this world?”
Allega blinked some, thinking hard. “We shall convene the test tomorrow. I would suggest some meditation time.” Then, he walked off.
Hyran shrugged. “See you tomorrow.”

Monk

2009-04-21T03:14:00.004-06:00

As was the case every year, within a few months after Deschule another Vle entered the monastic life. There was something about the season that brought priests to such dedication to the Great Master’s Word that they felt called to become a monk. It wasn’t always an easy transition, however: priests, by nature, were Vle for Vle, very involved in other’s lives.
A monk, however, had to be the opposite.
Hyran listened from his pew toward the back of the chapel as a light-skinned priest from Kelwome became a brother, remembering the vows he’d taken. This was a good opportunity to check one’s progress in upholding those vows, and Hyran decided he was doing really well— with the vows he still agreed with.
“Do you vow to remain on the monastery grounds at all times, except those proscribed by the abbot?”
“I do.” Hyran decided he didn’t really hear the tone of certain conviction, but rather the tone of a rote ‘How much longer will this take? What other parts of my life can I possibly vow away?’ It was typical, and if others heard, they understood as well.
“Do you now renounce all connection with your past and future, to live only in the present as a servant of the Great Master?”
“I do.”
“Do you now renounce all involvement with the outside world, to concentrate on the Word of the Great Master as your sole concern?”
“I do.”
“Do you now dedicate your service to The Great Master, to do all things according to his Will, to respond to adversity according to his Will, to live your life according to his Will?”
“I do.”
“Valans, I now consecrate your life to the Great Master, in His name and the name of his father, to be his humble slave in this world and the world beyond. Amen.”
Everyone chorused, “Amen,” and then stood in applause. Valans now turned, looking surprised and flattered at the welcome he was receiving. Then, the abbot bid him go meet everyone, and the expression changed again: “Everyone?!” Hyran saw him say. Indeed, that was the custom, though it was impossible for him to remember everyone’s name,
When it was his turn to shake the new brother’s hand, Hyran, simply said, “Welcome,” and then made to move on. But the abbot stopped him. “Not so fast, Hyran.”
“Yes, Father?” he replied, using the honorific as he was supposed to.
“I would like you to initiate our new brother.”
....! That was just one step from being a mentor (and a step away from being a gardener)! Somewhere in the crowd, Allega chuckled loudly. “Y-yes, Father,” Hyran stammered, “B—”
“You have a complaint, Son?”
“N- no, I simply was going to say that there must surely be better, more... orthodox choices than I.”
“Well, then,” replied the abbot, “you had better work hard and become more orthodox.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Now, relax. You’ll do fine.”
“Thank you, Father.”
The abbot moved on, introducing Valans to the rest of the monks gathered there. Hyran just stood there, thinking about what he was going to do about this. How much more orthodox should he be? Or, should he just be true to himself, never mind the abbot? The advantage is that he’d probably not end up a mentor. Or a gardener, for that matter.
The, he realized he should probably stick with the small greeting retinue. He snapped out of it and moved over to Valans’ side, and just watched, smiled, and endured the winks and chuckles of the other monks. Finally, Valans had met everyone, and it was just the three of them. “Well, Hyran, what do you think you will do first?” asked the abbot.
Hyran had absolutely no idea. “Uh, well.... I thought I’d take him to a pub down in town and get him nice and drunk, before we go stand on the steps of the cathedral and preach damnation theology.”
The abbot’s face remained as impassive as stone. “Ha. Do you even have a plan, yet?”
“Well, I suppose, I’d better show him where he’ll be living, unless he already knows,” Hyran guessed. “After that, I thought it would be good for us to talk theology in the library.”
“I would think you could talk about that absolutely anywhere.”
“So would I,” agreed Hyran, though that was as close as he could get to implying that he didn’t agree with the ‘no leaving’ vow.
“So, a tour of the place would be nice.”
The abbot had second guessed him. Hyran had intended to give the tour along the way to Valans’ quarters. “Of course, Father.”
“Well, have fun. If you have any questions, Son, just ask anyone, and they will be able to find me.”
“Thank you, Father.”
And with a blessing movement of his hand, the abbot moved off pontifically. Hyran just stood there quietly, watching him absent-mindedly while he thought about where to go first.
Finally, he said, “He’s very supportive when you’re new. Enjoy it while you can, and try to make it last.”
“Okay, I’ll remember that,” said Valans. “You make it sound as if this place has some politics.”
“Is there a place that doesn’t? Well, this monastery really isn’t bad that way— I’ve heard of worse. And it’s very easy to not get involved. Some may try, but if you’re non-descript, they’ll ignore you.”
“Are you non-descript?”
Hyran laughed. “Come, talk with me, and judge for yourself...”

2009-04-16T04:51:00.005-06:00

Early the next morning, Mecora woke up thinking about the funeral they’d had, but put it out of her mind. She had two more people to say goodbye to, and that wasn’t going to be easy.
She went to the plaza, and did a little bit of shopping. She didn’t have much money, but she spent what she had on a pair of diary scrolls with a porcupine pencil that stowed in the roller. These in hand, she headed first to Mereo’s house. It was nicer than Mecora’s, because while being third level as hers, it was an extruded house. The views from the windows were always impressive, and the whole house had much better light levels. Inside, there was chaos as everyone tried to decide what could go and what couldn’t. What made it more difficult was the uncertainty of how long they’d be gone, and whether they’d simply be fed, or if they’d have to earn a living like they usually did.
“Hi,” said Mereo when Mecora appeared at the door. “I’m glad you came over.”
“How could I not? Although, I gotta admit, it was hard to decide whose house to come to first.”
“What’s that in your hand?”
Mecora had almost forgotten. “Oh, it’s my going away present.” She took one of the scrolls and handed it to Mereo. “It’s a diary, so that you can record everything you experience.”
Mereo took the present gladly. “Oh, Mecora, thanks! I’ll write in it every day. I just hope I have enough ink.”
“It comes with a porcupine pencil, so you can save your ink for later.”
“Mecora, you shouldn’t have! This must have cost a lot!”
Mecora shrugged. “I’ve lost a lot already. It was hardly painful to part with the money.”
Mereo nodded in understanding, and put her new scroll carefully into one of her travelling bags. “Well, I’ve packed everything I want to take. Shall we go see how Ueal’s doing?”
“Yeah.” Mecora wondered how her light-skinned friend could be taking all this so calmly, and then decided she was just doing a darn good job of hiding her feelings. Was it better that way?
Ueal’s house wasn’t too far away, at platform level but carved out of the tree. The situation there was even more hectic than it had been at Mereo’s, because the family was bigger and included some little children.
“Hi! Oh, Mereo, tell me you’re not all packed already.”
“Yeah. Having trouble?”
“Are you kidding? How are you supposed to pack for a five day walk to a place you don’t even know how long you’re staying at? Care to give some advice?”
Mereo just shrugged. “I can’t give any. I just packed a third of everything.”
“A third. That’s too much.”
Mecora couldn’t help but chuckle. Ueal, despite her median economic level, had more clothes than any other girl in town, even the relatively well-off Mereo.
“Well, here’s a bit more to take,” said Mecora. “I hope you like it.”
Ueal took the gift, and smiled broadly. Then, she hugged Mecora. “A diary! Oh, thank you! I’ll write in it every day!”
“I hope so. I know I can’t share in your journey, but I’d at least like to read about it.”
“Oh, you will, I promise.”
“Okay, Ueal,” said Mereo, crossing her arms, “Let’s see you pack it.”
“Pack it?! Hah! No problem.” She shuffled some things around in her travel bags, scowled a bit, shuffled some more, tried a spot, scowled some more, and then finally fit the scroll in, just perfectly. “See?”
The other two had no choice but to chuckle.
Just then, horns sounded somewhere. The rushed out to the railing and looked down. An army was massed down there, and some of the men were on their way up. The town erupted in action, as families realized that the time had come. What packing up hadn’t been done was now done in haste, and the activity swirled around the three girls.
“I’d better get back home,” said Mereo. “They’re probably wondering.”
“Let’s meet at the statue one last time,” Mecora suggested. “That way your families can get together, too.”
“Okay. Good idea.”
Ueal went back inside, and the other two went to Mereo’s house. Most of the family was coming out, laden with as much as they could carry. Mereo’s mother looked relieved to see her daughter return. “I was about to go look for you in this mess! Come on, help me carry something.”
“Of course, Mom.”
“I hope they have wagons to ride in.”
“You mean, they might not?!” Mereo’s confident demeanor shattered. “Elf! There’s no way I could carry all my stuff and walk that far!”
“You never know. That’s a lot of wagons.”
“True.”
Mereo’s father came out, and closed the door. “Well, I suppose we’d better find out where we’re supposed to go.”
“Can we stop at the statue?” asked Mereo. “Mecora and I agreed to meet Ueal there, so we can all travel together.”
“I think we can do that. Come on, everyone.” They picked up their luggage and headed slowly in the direction of the statue. It wasn’t easy, maneuvering their heavy loads through a crowd equally laden. Along the way, they met three soldiers. “Come on, lities, let’s get moving on down, we don’t have all day,” they were saying. When they noticed the family, they got particularly pushy. “That way’s not down, lities! Come on, move!” They noticed Mecora, as well. One put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I hope you don’t think you’re going with them.”
“No, just to the statue. We agreed to meet with another family to say goodbye,” explained Mecora. “Now quit harassing us.”
That got laughter out of the soldiers. “Well, we ain’t gonna be too nice to stragglers, so you’d better not straggle!” Then, they simply moved on.
Mecora breathed a deep sigh of relief, then caught herself. Wouldn’t it be better for her to go along? Then she could be with her two best friends!
They made it to the statue a little before Ueal’s family. It was a little disconcerting to Mecora to have to say their goodbyes with everyone else watching. She felt kinda foolish crying so hard, and making others cry. Even some of the little children were, even though they had absolutely no clue why they should be.
In the midst of one of many long hugs, more soldiers came by. “Hey, now, don’t take too long to say your goodbyes, lities! You don’t want to find out what we do with stragglers!”
Mecora was getting fed up with the soldiers. It seemed to her as if they hated those who were lighter than they. It made no sense— there had always been peace between the two races. Had that changed somehow, for some unknown reason, in the world beyond? It made the whole moving thing make a little more sense, if such a thing was possible. Mecora looked more closely at the soldiers, and saw that there wasn’t a light skinned Vle among them.
“Listen, mister! I will not have you treating my friends with anything less than respect! Now, get on with your duties elsewhere, and we’ll come along when they’re good and ready.”
The soldiers just chuckled at her. “Who’s we? You don’t think you’re going with them, do you? Come on,” they said, physically pushing Ueal’s father and Mereo’s mother. “It’s time to go.”
“Bye!” The goodbyes began anew, more and more hurried as the families got further and further into the crowd. And then, in the midst of a tide of Vle-kind, Mecora was left absolutely, utterly alone.
Slowly, the tide receeded, leaving only the soldiers, who began peeking in every nook and cranny, as if looking for criminals. Mecora watched this through bleary, unbelieving eyes. Finally, even the soldiers were going away.
She went to the railing to watch the retinue leave. There weren’t any wagons to ride in, but neither did everyone have to carry everything. Each family had a wagon to push, which the father of the family did in most cases, while others walked. Mecora wondered at what the world had come to, and just stood there, sobbing, looking at the stream pour away into the forest. Behind them, soldiers on horses carried whips, which they had so far not used. She couldn’t bear the thought of a whip on the backs of her friends, or even of their proud, strong fathers.
A heavy step sounded behind her. “Great to see them lities go, ain’t it?”
Mecora rounded on the soldier, who appeared less than ten years older than her. “What do you mean great?!”
“Come on, you can’t tell me you actually liked having them here.”
“Mister, I’ll have you know that two of my best friends are about to wear holes in their shoes, and that another of my friends died of drunkenness because of all this!”
“Best friends?! How can lities be best friends? They’re dirty, dumb, and inherently untrustable.”
Mecora slapped him so hard his eyes literally spun. He staggered, taking a step back, and gathered his wits enough to stay his hand. Then, he just stood there, confused. A moment passed before he stood up straight, straightened his uniform, and paced away with as much dignity as he could muster.
And once his footsteps faded, there were no more footsteps to be heard.

2009-04-16T04:51:00.004-06:00

Vle are funny, Mecora decided. It didn’t take much for them to make an excuse to have a party, and the proclamation was an example. Normally, Mecora would have welcomed any excuse as much as everyone else. But not this time. Not when her best friends were about to leave.
It seemed most of the townspeople agreed. Instead of an excuse to party, it had become simply an excuse to drink. A band played, as usual, but without the vigor and energy they usually had. In fact, they played a lot of sad songs, and love songs. The only people who danced were couples, many of whom were mixed.
Everyone else just sat and listened from the pubs, drinking their beers on their own seats. There was little trouble finding a place to sit this night.
The four girls claimed their drinks and sat down in a corner. No one had said anything since they’d met at the statue, and now it seemed to Mecora as if nothing was really worth saying anyway.
Apparently Handa thought there was. “C’mon, girls, we can’t say goodbye like this.”
“Why not?” crabbed Mereo.
“Well, we oughta toast each other, at least. It’s a big, scary step we’re taking. We’ll need all the luck we can get.”
“What under the Great Master do you need luck for?”
“Well, how am I supposed to get along without you two? You’ve given me so much advice, and so many fun things to do, and, and... Burn the forest! Why do you have to go?!”
There really was no answer to that, except perhaps some lame comment on her epithet.
Ueal and Mereo each tossed off another drink and slammed the glasses down on the table like they were a couple of laborers drinking away the day’s labors. Mereo sighed. “I wish it were all a hallucination.”
“Me too,” agreed Mecora. “I wish this glass could take it all away.”
“It won’t,” Ueal declared. “Nothing will. We’re just gonna wake up with this great big headache like we always do, only it’ll be nothing like the ache we’ll have after walking for five days. And the ache of leaving home, and the ache of living in the same place as every other light Vle in this whole burnin’ kingdom! I dunno, Maybe it’d be better to just walk off the platform. No problem. No, no problem at all.”
Everyone in the pub was watching and listening, but no one had the energy to say anything. Mecora decided she wasn’t gonna let.. let someone... do what? why? She took another drink and discovered it was gone. “Go get more,” she ordered Handa.
Handa stumbled off, and Mecora realized, as she hit a third table, that she was the worst off of the four of them. She must have been the most disturbed. Who? Was someone going to decide something?
The music ended, and the musicians packed up their instruments. Mecora thought about protesting, but Handa (miraculously) returned with the drinks. All four just set into their glasses; the sound of conversation faded around them as the patrons could no longer hide their voices in the music.
“This is really stupid,” Mecora commented in her best whisper for no reason at all. It just was, whatever it was.
“Yeah. We might as well drink brandy,” replied a white-faced blob across the table.
Somehow, that wasn’t what Mecora had meant, but she agreed anyway. She took another swig, and felt the blissful loss of worry, the loss of control... and the smell of something rather putrid....

The runningtree had apparently visited again and stomped on her head. This time, she didn’t even move, but just lay still as the room spun, and spun, and spun.
Eventually, it slowed, leaving just the headache. “Handa?”
No response. Oh, well, she’d just have to wait for her willow-bark tea. That, or get it herself.
Ueal was already awake. “I wish Handa was awake.”
“So do I. I can’t decide if it would be worth it to go to her mother’s shop myself.”
“No, no, I doubt it.”
“Yeah.”
A moan from Mereo said she was coming awake. “Is Handa awake yet?”
“No,” Ueal and Mecora chorused.
“That’s amazing. Normally, she’d be halfway to her mother’s by now.”
“Well, didn’t she have just as much beer as we did?” asked Mecora.
“Yeah.”
“Well, there you go. Her tolerance is lower.”
“By the Great Master! She didn’t jump, did she?”
“No, no, no, I can see her, right here, sleeping, the gentle rise... of.. her chest... Oh, burning forest!” Despite the hundreds of complaints from her head, Mecora got to her knees and went over to where Handa lay. “Handa? Handa, wake up, please. Please? Handa!” She couldn’t be dead! Not on top of everything else, it wouldn’t be fair, it just wouldn’t be fair...
Ueal and Mereo were beside her, helping in the attempt to wake Handa. “She might just be so unconscious we can’t wake her,” suggested Mereo unconvincingly.
“Oh, please, let that be true!” exclaimed Mecora.
An older man, apparently having heard the exclamation, came over. “A little too much last night, girls?”
Mecora looked up to see the town’s doctor, and nodded. “Kind of a going away party, I guess.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed as he nudged his way in. The three gave way and watched carefully as he put his fingers under Handa’s chin. Then, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, girls.”
Mecora felt the shock, but her nerves were too deadened. When you’re going to lose two friends, what’s one more, anyway? Only she’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye to this friend.
The doctor stood, and motioned to a man passing by. “Would you please go to Holice’s and bring her here?”
The man just stood there a moment, as if stunned at having to be the bearer of bad news. Then, he trotted off in the direction that Handa should be going. Not that man.
All wrong. It was all wrong! None of this, by any right, should be happening. How could something go so wrong, especially right under the gaze of the Great Master above? Unless there were no such being. That had to be it. Had to be...

Girl

2009-04-14T05:29:00.001-06:00

Mecora strained to hear the sounds of wildlife in the forest above the hubbub of the town, and half-heartedly wished the town would just stop for a moment so she could hear. Birds, frogs, crickets... But that only lasted a second before she was enjoying the hubbub itself and contributing to it. “Isn’t it just the greatest day?”
Her best friends echoed the sentiment. “It’s days like these you think nothing could ever go wrong!” exclaimed Ueal. “Let’s go to the statue.”
“And do what?” asked Mereo. “I suppose you want to watch the men working.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No, as long as you don’t go walking in your daydreams again.”
“I don’t do that!”
Mecora laughed. “I think we oughta just go to the plaza. A lot more is going on there.”
“Like what? A bunch of people going about their shopping and selling— no muscles, no cute faces...”
“Well, I happen to like watching all kinds of people. It’s fun to wonder what the people are thinking.” Just then, the sound of hoofbeats far below on the forest floor caught their attention. All four went to the railing, in time to see the messenger call the lift. A horse up on the second level platform walked in a circle, pulling a rope that brought the lift up to the first level. Just before he darted off the lift toward the steps, they were able to see from his uniform that he came from the King himself. The King had a proclamation! A horn sounded, and all that could congregated in the plaza. Mecora and friends crowded on a bench next to the railing to see and hear.
But it was not the mysterious good news everyone expected. All light Vle? Living in a single camp?!
Mecora was so shocked she was rooted to the spot where she stood. All the light Vle...! That meant nearly half the town... half her friends....
Beside her, Mereo began to weep, as did Ueal. Mecora put her arms around both, unable to control her own weeping. She wanted to say it was okay, everything would be all right, she understood how they felt— Would they make her go, too? But she couldn’t say that. Her mom had made her promise never to tell.
Handa stood a bit apart, seemingly unsure of what to do. “Why? Why would the King do such a thing? It makes no sense.” Her voice rose to a yell. “Great Master to the Underworld, IT MAKES NO SENSE!”
Mecora thought the whole forest had heard the last epithet, but few of the townspeople still in the plaza made any note of it. After all, Handa was right; it made no sense. The realization then came that Kings didn’t have to make sense— what they said was law, and that was that. Still, the king had never before had such an effect on their lives, having always been someone they knew of and perhaps dreamed of meeting. Now, he was letting everyone know he existed in a way they’d never forget.
Some of the light Vle who had heard the proclamation could already be seen preparing for the move. A number of the shops in town were owned by those of fair complexion, and over on the far side of the plaza, a banker was nailing boards over his windows. Mecora felt like yelling to him to stop. It wasn’t real! It couldn’t be real! It was all a dream— a nightmare!
But this nightmare wasn’t going away. Mecora decided it was best for the two girls at her side to head home; their mothers were probably looking for them. It was a silent walk through a silent town to some silent houses; the chirps and twitters of wildlife seemed far too cheery. Mecora wished they’d shut up.

Neither Mecora nor her mother talked as dinner was prepared. It was as if both of them had something to say, but saying anything was an admission that it really was happening. Annoyingly, her brothers played loudly, and her mother hummed as she worked over the stove, just as she always did. It was a sad tune, Mecora noted.
Soon, dinner was on the table, and everyone sat at their places. Mecora could only sit there and stare at the dish, her favorite: Rabbit stew with junips.
“Dear, you have to eat,” Mecora’s mother said above the din of her brothers.
“I’m just not hungry, Mom.”
“I know you’re worried for your friends, but it won’t do them or you any good to not eat.”
“I’m not just worried about my friends, and you know it.” “Mecora, we’ve been over this before. Now, eat.”
“I can’t. I just can’t. It feels like my stomach’s all tied up in a knot.”
“Well, I suppose we can do with the leftovers.”
Mecora didn’t respond to that. Her brothers continued playing at the table, making the usual mess and noise, seemingly oblivious of the outside world. She couldn’t understand why her mom wouldn’t shut them up. Couldn’t they be quiet just this once? “Boys! Can’t you just be quiet?!”
That startled them. The younger one began to cry, and the older said, “No! I don’ wanna!” And he stuck his tongue out.
“Don’t stick your tongue out at me, you little—”
“Mecora! Don’t talk to your brothers that way! You’ve made Yover cry!”
“But, Mom, they were making too much noise!”
“It’s not them, it’s you, Mecora. They have no concept of what just happened today. They’ll notice soon enough.”
“I wish I could be that ignorant.”
“But you’re not, so you’ll just have to figure out how to deal with it.”
“Just figure it out?! How am I supposed to do that?! My best friends are going to go live in a camp five days’ travel from here! I’m supposed to be able to figure out how to deal with that?!”
“I know it’s tough, Mecora, but you’ll get through it—”
“Oh, easy for you to say! You don’t even have any friends who are going away!”
“You think it doesn’t hurt me too? I’m losing half my customers! Half! How are we going to make it now? Don’t just think you’re the only one hurt!”
“Well, you could at least tell me how to deal with it.”
“Mecora, if I knew, I’d tell you.”
She felt anger, then frustration, then the feeling that no one could help her or make everything all right, not even her mother. She stormed off to her room, even as she remembered it was her mom’s room, too. But for now, she could just flop on the bed and cry.
The door cracked open. “Go away!” she yelled.
The door closed again.

2009-04-09T14:47:00.000-06:00

By now Taréz was so accustomed to having bad news brought by the Chief that he was surprised when, three days later, the Chamberlain came into his chamber, a bit distressed.
“What is it?” asked his father. “Some more problems with the construction?”
“No, Sire. It’s an economic matter. The Light Vle League of Bankers have closed their banks until the concerns of their miner kinsmen are dealt with to their satisfaction.”
Taréz was stunned. The banking profession was primarily held by light Vle, even in the more westerly part of the country where there were almost no light Vle. Despite its size, Larmania was only as strong economically as the smaller light Vle countries to the south and east— and that largely because of the light Vle participation in the banking industry. “Do they have any specific suggestions of their own?”
“No, Sire, other than giving the miners what they want.”
“Impossible!” his father asserted. “If we raise the prices of metals to the level they want, no one will be able to afford them. And we certainly couldn’t compete— and that would be bad for them, too.”
“Apparently, Sire, the bankers disagree. I have heard from friends that our eastern nobles feel we’re undercutting them.”
Just then, Gardric stormed in. He opened his mouth as if to shout, but the King cut him off. “If it’s about the bankers, save it— I’ve heard. Any realistic suggestions on how to deal with them?”
“Unless realistic includes expatriation, no,” was the growled response.
“It sounds as though the bankers support the miners’ demands. I’m no economist, but I fail to see how raising the prices of metals can benefit the country.”
“It has nothing to do with that, Sire!” said the Chief impatiently. “They’re simply staging an economic takeover of this country. First, Yis, then the miners, now the bankers. Consider that war causes metal prices to rise. If you do not act now, you will lose control of the kingdom, from within, or without!”
And that was a scary thought. The House of Dronac had been on the throne constantly for the last few thousand years. Could a battle of economics remove the family now? Gardric was recommending removing the light Vle completely; Taréz’ own suggestion, martial law, hadn’t improved the situation much; what could stabilize the situation now?
“Yis? Do you have any recommendations?”
“No, Sire. I must admit the situation baffles me.”
Lajot sighed heavily. “You said the light Vle have closed their banks?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And the miners are still not working?”
“They are not, Sire.”
“Then they won’t mind leaving their jobs for a while.” The King wiped his brow in an amazing show of nerves. Taréz had never seen has father sweat, and even he felt the heat of the gaze of the Chamberlain and Chief together. “From this day until such time as I decide,” proclaimed his father, “all light Vle are to reside in a secure camp somewhere near here, say, within a day’s ride.”
Taréz felt his jaw drop in astonishment, and decided it was not necessary to hide it in present company. “Sire!” Yis exclaimed, while Gardric barely suppressed a triumphant smirk.
“Note well! I do not want any jubilation here, nor feelings of betrayal. Remember, this kingdom is having some problems and I am trying to deal with them as best I can. All those in the camp are to be treated with the utmost respect, and given plenty of food, water, and other supplies. They are guests of the palace, essentially, and I do not want to give them any reason to complain. Is that clear, Chief?!”
“Yes, of course, Sire! All will be as you say.”
“Good. Now, go make the necessary preparations. We’ll be having nearly fifty thousand guests, so the camp will have to be enormous. Get moving.”
“Yes, Sire.” He bowed, and left almost at a trot.
“Sire?” Yis asked uncertainly. “Where— does that leave me?”
The King sighed. Taréz knew he’d come to regard this man as a trusted advisor, if not yet a friend. But he was a friend to Taréz. “Hmm. I guess it would be best to have you as, perhaps, mayor of the camp. I trust you, Yis, so I need you there. Plus, it hardly seems fair to put all but one light Vle in the camp.”
Yis’ face sank to a rather sad expression. Was there anger, as well?
“Yes, Sire. Who will serve as your Chamberlain during my absence?”
“I don’t know, Yis. I need to figure that out. In the meantime, would you help Gardric with the preparations? Perhaps we could divert some of the labor from the South Hall.”
“Of course, Sire.” Both monarchs watched the retreating back of the flaxen-haired Vle. A pall hung in the room, and the prince wondered if his father was really doing the right thing.
But Yis did not leave the room, instead stopping at the door. They watched as, finally, he turned and came striding up to the desk where the king sat. Yis’ face was beet red with an anger Taréz had never before seen. “I cannot believe you would do this! This is a crime, Your Majesty! A crime against Vlehood, and a crime against all mankind! You must reconsider— I demand it!!”
“Yis, what would you have me do? I can’t run a nation with an entire segment revolting against my will! I have to do something, and this is what I came up with.”
“Well, it’s a sorry excuse for a solution! Think, Your Majesty! This is what Gardric wants— control, nullification of light Vle! Are you going to believe him, follow his example, after all he’s done?!”
“Again I ask you, Yis, do I have a choice?”
“YES! That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You can still take back your proclamation, and find another solution.”
“I don’t have the luxury of time, Yis. This issue has to be resolved once and for all.”
Yis threw up his hands in exasperation. “Simply because of some miners who want a better life for themselves!”
“And those scouts on the border, and the bankers, and— you must admit, Yis, your project has been suspiciously dangerous.”
“Your Majesty, you are a racist!”
That hurt, and it wasn’t even directed at Taréz.
“Mr. Thour, I have put up with your second guessing enough! I have made my decision, and it is final! Now, go!”
The chamberlain almost went purple, turned sharply, and went out the door, slamming it. The monarchs watched as the door fell off its broken hinges.

2009-04-08T06:28:00.003-06:00

“C’mon, you’ll have to do better than that,” egged the swordmaster.
A drop of sweat dropped off Taréz brow. “You’ve been saying that for years, Fullo. It’s become my mantra, only I hear it in your voice.” He thought he saw an opening, and swiped, but instead felt the wrist-twisting jar of the swordmaster’s sword.
“Tsk, tsk, you’re predictable. You never swipe in the middle of a sentence!”
Burn it! That ‘opening’ had been an illusion!
“Your Highness! Official business!”
Taréz turned to see a dark Vle wearing the sash of a messenger coming up the steps to the sparring platform. “Official business? My father is unavailable?”
“Yes, Your Highness. The chamber guard did not explain why.”
“Ah.” The prince tried not to think about what that meant, but he used chamber guards the same way sometimes after a ball. “The message is?”
“The Duke of Creaz reports the miners are revolting.”
“Revolting? Why?”
“They demand more pay.”
“More pay?! Metal prices aren’t exactly the greatest right now. We’re about to... Oh, never mind. I’d better save the discussion for the King. The parchment, please? Thank you. The chamberlain should be near the south wing."
The messenger bowed, and left to collect his fee from Yis.
Taréz put the parchment on a bench with his cloak picked up his sword and crouched in the basic ready position, but shook his head as the swordmaster responded in kind. “No, my mind’s not going to be in this. I’ll need to read this over at least twice before I present it to Father.”
“Oh, but now is the perfect time to practice. You have something big to put out of your mind.” And with that, he attacked.

Twice more that week, there was news of border incursions, and the miner’s riots continued. Finally, the King called a conference with his most trusted advisors. They included the Chief, of course, as well as the Chamberlain; the Librarian, who knew exactly what previous kings did in similar situations; and finally, Taréz.
“It would appear from first glance,” began the King, “that Gardric’s paranoia about the Light Vle of the east is not so unfounded as I thought. The South Hall incidents can be attributed to mere accident. The miners might well have a legitimate gripe. But it’s a little harder to simply write off a border incursion as a mistake. However, I find it difficult to believe that any of our neighbors should seek— or risk— war against us for any reason. Meanwhile, war is the last thing I want, however strong we are or how willing we want to appear to be. Ours is a position of peace. Peace is profitable—”
“And the light Vle are endangering that profit!” The Chief interjected.
“I beg your pardon, Chief.” Yis Thour spoke softly, but the color of his face belied the hot emotions within. Not for the first time, the King was glad his own skin was dark enough to hide his emotions.
Gardric was terse in his reply. “Pardon me.”
“Yis, can you see any reason that King Baran would wish to make war on us? Keep in mind the trouble we’ve had in the east.”
“I cannot imagine any reason to violate the borders of the great Kingdom of Larmania.”
Gardric harumphed “Nor I. Sire, did you really expect a different answer?”
“Sire,” countered Yis, “I am your chamberlain, loyal to you. I tell you in all honesty—”
The King cut him off. “Yes, Yis, I believe you.” Taréz knew Yis’ speech to actually have been intended for the Chief. “I sent a letter by pigeon to the ambassador, to inquire as to his knowledge of these incursions. I was particularly surprised by his response, which I shall read for you:
“‘I, Noert, do solemnly swear by the honor of His Majesty, King Baran the sixth of Varmac, that the information provided below is true to the best of my knowledge.’ Gardric, I don’t need a comment on that.
“‘I have heard of captures of Varmacian scouts; news of these events have put the citizens of my country on edge. However, it is the assertion of our military leaders that no border crossing was ever made, and that in order to have made these captures, Larmanian scouts must have crossed to our side. Plus, the right of notice of capture has apparently not been extended to the scouts, for no word of them has been received since the beginning of their shift.
“‘Please, Your Majesty, I implore you to free our men. They have done no harm in any way to your country or people. This I ask in the interest of continued peace. Sincerely, Noert Hieman, Ambassador of Varmac to the Kingdom of Larmania.’ Now, we have two different stories here, both claiming that no one crossed the border. Who am I to believe?”
“I think it’s significant, Father, that he did not refute the existence of the scouts, nor their proximity to the border.”
“It’s rather difficult for them to do that, now,” said Gardric. “We have living proof.”
“Good that you’ve kept them alive, Gardric. However, they could also have denied the existence of the scouts and thus made it seem that our troops made a much larger incursion.”
“That would be foolish. It would make their border seem weaker.”
Taréz had to concede the point, and knew his father had to as well.
“Furns? What is your take on the situation?” he asked the librarian.
“As you may be aware, border incursions have been common throughout our history. However, the usual response has simply been to attack, which in all cases led to full-out war. I think that is no longer an option.”
“Agreed,” replied the King. “Is there no precedent for a peaceful resolution?”
“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. For one thing, early on, previous incursions were of the cattle-raid type— anything lesser would have gone unnoticed. Later, once the Gardrics took office, the response was so swift and bloody that our neighbors quickly learned not to mess with us.”
“I know. But that’s hardly an appropriate response, now.”
Gardric’s response was predictable. “But, your Majesty! We must attack! The security of our people is at stake!”
“Father, may I suggest something? What if we declare martial law?”
“Martial law? I’m not familiar with the term.”
“It’s when government is conducted by the military,” informed the librarian. “All comings and goings are strictly controlled by soldiers, so that everyone’s location is accounted for at all times.”
“That would help solve the riot problem,” continued Taréz, “and if the Varmacians ever get serious, we’ll have our forces ready for a response.”
“That does sound like a good plan. Very well: Gardric, confer with Furns on the details of martial law. We will declare it in all duchies with light Vle percentages greater than one-third of the population. Taréz, I want you to convene a conference of the lords so that they will understand what we’re doing and why. Yis, I’d like you to arrange a conference between King Baran and I next week at the latest.”
“Yes, Sire. I hope you’re doing the right thing.”
“By the Great Master, Yis, so do I.”