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.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Prince
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.
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.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
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.”
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.”
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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.”
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.”
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monk
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...”
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...”
Thursday, April 16, 2009
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.
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.
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...
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...
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