Her mother was more than surprised when she entered. “Mecora! Where in the forest have you been?!”
“Hiding with Spreak. I just came back to get some food.”
“Listen, dear, if you think I’m going to just give you some food so you can keep up this little game of yours, you’re badly mistaken! Do you realize what you did today? You humiliated me! I thought I had brought up a daughter who was polite and respectful of the elders and the community, and then you bite Stussell! That’s babyish!”
“Well. how else was I going to get Spreak free? I couldn’t shrug my shoulders and say, ‘I give up!’”
“And why not? Would it be so hard for you to do the right thing for once?”
“I did, Mom. I’ve already lost some friends to that flaming camp. I’m not gonna lose a brand-new friend.”
Her mother thought for a moment. “So, basically, you’re saying that your morality is better than the King’s.” The tone dripped with sarcasm.
But Mecora straightened her back and said, “Yes. In this case, I’m righter than the King.”
“Do you even have the slightest clue as to what the consequences are?”
“No. Do they matter? I mean, what can they do to me? I’m dark!”
“Mecora—”
“Now, are you going to let me have something to eat, or should I get it myself?”
Her mother just stood there as she collected her glowworm lamp and a few things from the cool closet. Then she left, back out into the darkness.
As she started up the steps toward the monastery, Mecora realized with a start that she would have just as much trouble finding the hole as the elders had, if Spreak had closed it up again. She lit the lamp, deeming it safe now that she was on the far side of the tree. However, he hadn’t closed the hole completely. It was pretty small, about the size a woodpecker would make.
“Spreak! I’m back.”
There was a few hummed notes, and the hole grew. “Great. What did your mom say?”
Mecora recounted the conversation, editorializing in places. “I can’t believe that a whole town of people— especially elders— could just give up like sheep rolled on their backs.”
“You did it again.”
“What?”
“You used a metaphor again.”
“Oh, the sheep? Yeah, I guess I did.”
“I’m glad you’re not a sheep.”
“Me too.” She paused, and realized she was still holding the food and the lamp. The latter she set down between them. “Oh, uh, I’ve got some meal-grain here. I’m sorry it’s not made into bread or anything, but, uh, I’ve got some fruit, too...”
“It’s enough. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
A few more uncomfortable moments passed, when the silence demanded to be broken, but she couldn’t think of anything to say— at least, nothing that wasn’t silly in some way.
Finally, he said, “So, tell me about these friends you mentioned...”
They talked themselves to sleep.
They stayed up there most of the time. The monastery had few visitors, none of which even noticed the little hole. No one noticed Mecora’s nightly forays, either, though they did notice her absence at the parties. Handa’s mom once even commented that she kinda missed her morning visits.
“Sorry, I’ve got something more important in my life than parties now,” was generally Mecora’s reply, but she never said what. She kind of suspected that the town knew it was Spreak that was more important, but she didn’t care. Just as long as they never tried to take him away.
In the meantime, they talked at night, and slept during the day. One day, however, they were awakened by the characteristic rumble of more light Vle going by. “What’s that?!” Spreak asked.
“Light Vle moving northwest.”
“By the Great Master, is that what it sounds like? I never imagined...”
“Well, you would have heard it, if you were in one.”
“Yeah, but you don’t realize just how loud it is, or how it carries through the forest. Hey, you know, hunting would be great a ways in front of that.”
“Spreak! How can you think like that! Those are your kinsmen down there, walking their lives away, and you think about the hunt? I thought you weren’t that good, anyway.”
“I’m not, so I’ve had to learn special techniques. And, by the way, those are your kinsmen, too.”
“Yeah.” Duh. How could she of all Vle have forgotten that? “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
They watched the rest of the ‘parade’ pass from their slightly widened hole. No one apparently noticed them watching, not even the soldiers.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Girl
Mecora leaned against “her” statue, but didn’t really watch what was going on around her. Usually she did, wondering at the business this or that person was off to, what they might be thinking, what their concerns might be. But this day, she just sat and thought about how important everybody thought their own lives were, too important to stop and think about what was going on. It was as if the light Vle issue was a taboo subject, something not even discussed in private, or when drunk.
“Hi.”
Mecora looked up to see Relie standing there, dressed to travel. “Hi. Going somewhere?”
“Yeah. My family’s moving again.”
“Really? Why?”
“Dad says this town’s too negative. We haven’t really been accepted here, anyway.”
“Is anywhere else gonna be different?”
Relie shrugged. “I dunno. Why not?”
“Light Vle are gone all over the place, unless you go to a town where there weren’t any to begin with.”
“Yeah. Dad says we’re going west.”
“Well. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She sat on the corner of the statue’s base. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends.”
Mecora wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to say so. So, she just said, “Yeah.”
“I hope you find a good friend someday. I think you really are a friendly person, if you want to be.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
There was silence for a moment before the younger girl aked, “Do you ever wish you could just stop time, and make it go backwards?”
“Always, Relie. It consumes me, even though I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’ve already experienced the changes. We can never really go back. It will always be different.”
“I know, but it’s a nice dream anyway.”
“Yeah.”
A male voice called from the next platform up. “Relie!”
“Coming, Dad!” yelled Relie. She stood up, and sighed. “I hafta go now.”
“Bye, Relie. I hope you find a good friend, too.”
“Thanks. Bye!” She turned, and walked toward the lift to meet her family.
And once again, Mecora felt alone. It made no sense to pine for even that little acquaintance which she was now losing. Was her life really so empty?
And the only possible answer was, yes.
Relie’s wasn’t the only family moving out in search of better opportunities, and a more positive environment. There were the Phollin’s, the Tash’s, the Nonor’s.... There was a time when the Most High Elder of the town could proudly count more than four thousand Vle whenever he spoke. Now, he didn’t count at all, but rumors put the figure at less than two thousand, and dropping. Rumors weren’t truth, perhaps, but they were effective in continuing the trend of moving away.
Which was something Mecora’s family couldn’t afford to do. And couldn’t afford to not do.
Mecora stood and started to wander through the town, looking at the now empty spaces, holes in the tree that it would eventually reclaim. Mecora just hoped that it wouldn’t happen before the owners returned.
In another time, in what seemed like another life, Mecora and friends would have gladly gone romping in the abandoned places, looking at the things that were left behind, finding hidden spaces, enjoying the darkness. And, of course, they would eventually have made too much noise giggling, and been discovered, and then there would have been big trouble. It would have been worth it.
But not now. The darkness, the abandonment that seemed to ask for her company, just wasn’t that inviting. All she would do was sulk, after all, and she could sulk anywhere.
Even where she now found herself— at the bottom of the steps to the monastery. She didn’t climb them this time, knowing there was no point. But it was enough to simply sit there, and try to listen to the sounds of nature.
But nature wasn’t obliging. Instead it was strangely quiet, like it was whenever danger approached. What was coming?
And then she herself heard it: the thunder of hooves and wagon wheels. It was becoming a fairly familiar sound, now, as more and more light Vle headed by on their way northwest. Mecora could see from her vantage point that not a single head of those she could see in town turned in the direction of the approaching sound.
Below, the light Vle appeared from around a tree, and it was clear from their stance that they had already been walking for quite some time. The whips of the soldiers could no longer make them go any faster, though it didn’t seem as though the mounted Vle had noticed, or cared to notice.
The last of them passed, the forest returned to quiet, the animals even began to make their noises again. At least they were polite enough to recognize the passing, Mecora mused.
She stood and walked back to the town. Soon after crossing the bridge, she passed an elder. “Why do you go out there? You know they won’t let you up.”
“I know. It’s just quieter out there.”
“You know, Mecora, the more you sulk, the worse it’ll get. You have to move on, or else life will leave you behind.”
“Are you trying to tell me to forget my friends, and just pretend they don’t exist?”
“Well... You may have to. The King does have reasons for what he does. We may not always know what they are, but if he found the light Vle dangerous, then perhaps some are.”
Mecora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How can you say that?! Some of your friends are locked up, too!”
“I know, dear, I know. We all have to make our little sacrifices for the good of the kingdom.”
Her blood boiled, and her tongue let loose: “Burn you, and burn this whole town!” Finally, all she could do was dash away.
Though she thought she was headed home, she realized just before she opened the door that she had arrived at the house where Ueal had lived. She was about to turn around and run home, but she heard a sound inside, like something was bumped.
Slowly, cautiously, she opened the door. It was dark, but her eyes soon adjusted. All of the furniture was just as she remembered, only covered by a thick layer of dust. She heard a shuffle from the master bedroom, so she went as quietly as she could in that direction. Then, she opened the door.
From behind a chest, a foot stuck out. “Who’s there?”
No reply.
She went over to the chest, and said, “I can see your foot. Who are you?”
The foot disappeared behind the chest, and she heard another shuffle. Finally, the person stood.
It was a light-skinned boy maybe a couple years older than her. “Don’t tell, please don’t tell! I won’t hurt anyone, I promise!”
“Why should I think you would? Except maybe the odd rabbit or two, and whatever insect you care to torture. What are you doing in here? This is my friend’s house!”
“You mean— your friend is—”
“Yeah, ‘camping.’ Actually two of them. And another drank herself to death, she was so depressed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. Well, come on. You can’t stay in here forever.”
“Why not? I’d rather.”
“Someone would hear you! Who knows what they’d do then.”
“But where can I go? I don’t have any idea where I am, I can’t hunt very well...”
“You can’t hunt?!” Mecora couldn’t believe it. Most boys learned to as part of growing up. “Why not?!”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t hunt, I just meant I’m not very good at it. I’m not good enough to feed myself.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, my name’s Spreak.”
“Mecora. Nice to meet you. Now, come on. Let’s go to my Mom’s house. By the way, how did you get here without being noticed?”
“Every house has a water pipe. I just picked the first available dry one.”
“Your parents must be worried sick about you.”
“I know. But I’m gonna get them out. Someday, I will! And then we can all just go back to Varmac.”
“You mean, you didn’t grow up here in Larmania?”
“No! We were just on vacation.”
“Vacation? What’s that?”
“It’s... it’s when you leave home to go somewhere else. Just for the fun of it, or to see different scenery, different trees...”
“Wow. Your family must be rich.”
Spreak shrugged. “Well, I guess you could say that we are.”
Mecora couldn’t even imagine having enough money to leave home just for fun. She tried, but then realized she and Spreak still were in Ueal’s house. “Come on, let’s go to my house.”
Spreak appeared to hesitate, and then nodded. “Okay, but if we get trouble, I’m outta this town for good.”
“We won’t, I promise.” Mecora opened the door, and they cautiously walked out. In the improved light, Mecora realized Spreak was cute! She swallowed. “Act like absolutely nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah,” agreed Spreak.
Mecora did her best, but there were those who stared. Children pointed, and told their mothers; other adults whispered in their friend’s ears. In fact, an elder actually stopped them. “Hey now, Mecora. Where did you find this fella?”
“He escaped from that last group that went by.”
“You realize, of course, that we have to report this to the next troop that comes by.”
“You wouldn’t!”
The elder shrugged. “I’m afraid we have to. The King said so.”
“But he isn’t here, is he? How would ever know that one, single light Vle wasn’t in his flaming camp?! How could you possibly do that to a person?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes you do, so make it!” With that, she took Spreak’s arm, and began to stalk away.
But the elder had the other arm. “We should keep him in a safe place too, Mecora.”
“Elder! I don’t believe you! Let go! He’s not a criminal, so just— let— go!”
“I can’t, Dear. It’s for the good of Kelwome.”
Mecora searched the crowd frantically for friendly faces, Vle who would take her side. But most of those who were even paying attention wore, at best, neutral expressions.
Finally, she happened to see her mother. “Mom! Mom!” Mecora was relieved to see her turn in her direction and approach.
“Mecora, what trouble are you in now?”
“The Elder Stussell wants to keep Spreak locked up until the soldiers get here!”
“Well, that is what the King commanded, dear.”
“Mom! You don’t understand! Spreak isn’t even from Larmania, he’s from Varmac!”
“It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a light Vle, Mecora,” said the Elder. “The King commanded all light Vle to move to the camp, and we’re not to hamper that movement.”
“You’re wrong! He commanded all of his subjects who were light-skinned to the camp. Spreak doesn’t count!”
“Well, that’s a matter we’ll have to leave up to the soldiers who come,” pronounced the Elder. And the tone of his voice meant he considered the matter closed.
Mecorsa didn’t. Seeing a break in the crowd, she bit the arm that held Spreak tightly, and pulled him away. Off they ran, as fast as they could through the stunned shoppers and merchants. Up to the next platform, across to the other tree, down to the original platform, and finally, across the bridge to the monastery tree. All the way, elders chased them.
“What are you doing?” asked Mecora. “We can’t get up there!”
“We don’t have to.” Spreak led the way up the steps, but stopped halfway up. Now, the tree was between them and the pursuing elders. Mecora watched as he looked... deeply at the tree, and sang the oddest song she had ever heard. Then, she realized it was a treesong, only quite a bit different from the one used by the local ‘singers in town. Before her eyes, a hole opened, quickly becoming just big enough for the both of them. They crawled in, and he sang again, closing the bark over the hole. Then, they waited.
They heard the passage of the elders, and some others as well. It seemed to Mecora that they were in there for an hour at least. Finally, Spreak opened a small hole, and looked out. “It’s clear.”
“But, now what?”
“I dunno. We could stay here, I suppose.”
“But there’s no food.”
“Good point.”
“So, why didn’t you use that in Ueal’s house to hide from me?”
“Well, you would have heard me singing.”
“You can’t whisper the ‘song?”
“No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh.” She paused, and thought about their situation. “Well, I bet if we waited until nighttime, I could go home and get some food. Maybe then I can convince Mom to let you hide in our house.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
“But, if anyone found out, you’d get in so much trouble...”
“I don’t care. This whole thing burns forest. If it takes a little bit of trouble to make people wake up and smell the smoke, maybe we can stoke the flames.”
“Why, Mecora, you sound like a poet.”
She didn’t understand that comment. “Why?”
“You used a metaphor. You started with the burning forest, and applied the idea to the situation in the kingdom.”
“Well, yeah, it just kinda made sense—”
“Not many kids our age would think of that so easily. I’d say you have a gift.”
“You mean, like your treesinging? I thought that was something you had to learn to do.”
“It is, and you’re right. I have that gift.”
Mecora realized she was feeling a little strange, alone in the darkness with a boy who had just complimented her... She cleared her throat. “Well, I’d better get going.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She slipped out the hole, and used the cover of darkness to make her way to her house.
“Hi.”
Mecora looked up to see Relie standing there, dressed to travel. “Hi. Going somewhere?”
“Yeah. My family’s moving again.”
“Really? Why?”
“Dad says this town’s too negative. We haven’t really been accepted here, anyway.”
“Is anywhere else gonna be different?”
Relie shrugged. “I dunno. Why not?”
“Light Vle are gone all over the place, unless you go to a town where there weren’t any to begin with.”
“Yeah. Dad says we’re going west.”
“Well. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She sat on the corner of the statue’s base. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be friends.”
Mecora wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to say so. So, she just said, “Yeah.”
“I hope you find a good friend someday. I think you really are a friendly person, if you want to be.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
There was silence for a moment before the younger girl aked, “Do you ever wish you could just stop time, and make it go backwards?”
“Always, Relie. It consumes me, even though I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’ve already experienced the changes. We can never really go back. It will always be different.”
“I know, but it’s a nice dream anyway.”
“Yeah.”
A male voice called from the next platform up. “Relie!”
“Coming, Dad!” yelled Relie. She stood up, and sighed. “I hafta go now.”
“Bye, Relie. I hope you find a good friend, too.”
“Thanks. Bye!” She turned, and walked toward the lift to meet her family.
And once again, Mecora felt alone. It made no sense to pine for even that little acquaintance which she was now losing. Was her life really so empty?
And the only possible answer was, yes.
Relie’s wasn’t the only family moving out in search of better opportunities, and a more positive environment. There were the Phollin’s, the Tash’s, the Nonor’s.... There was a time when the Most High Elder of the town could proudly count more than four thousand Vle whenever he spoke. Now, he didn’t count at all, but rumors put the figure at less than two thousand, and dropping. Rumors weren’t truth, perhaps, but they were effective in continuing the trend of moving away.
Which was something Mecora’s family couldn’t afford to do. And couldn’t afford to not do.
Mecora stood and started to wander through the town, looking at the now empty spaces, holes in the tree that it would eventually reclaim. Mecora just hoped that it wouldn’t happen before the owners returned.
In another time, in what seemed like another life, Mecora and friends would have gladly gone romping in the abandoned places, looking at the things that were left behind, finding hidden spaces, enjoying the darkness. And, of course, they would eventually have made too much noise giggling, and been discovered, and then there would have been big trouble. It would have been worth it.
But not now. The darkness, the abandonment that seemed to ask for her company, just wasn’t that inviting. All she would do was sulk, after all, and she could sulk anywhere.
Even where she now found herself— at the bottom of the steps to the monastery. She didn’t climb them this time, knowing there was no point. But it was enough to simply sit there, and try to listen to the sounds of nature.
But nature wasn’t obliging. Instead it was strangely quiet, like it was whenever danger approached. What was coming?
And then she herself heard it: the thunder of hooves and wagon wheels. It was becoming a fairly familiar sound, now, as more and more light Vle headed by on their way northwest. Mecora could see from her vantage point that not a single head of those she could see in town turned in the direction of the approaching sound.
Below, the light Vle appeared from around a tree, and it was clear from their stance that they had already been walking for quite some time. The whips of the soldiers could no longer make them go any faster, though it didn’t seem as though the mounted Vle had noticed, or cared to notice.
The last of them passed, the forest returned to quiet, the animals even began to make their noises again. At least they were polite enough to recognize the passing, Mecora mused.
She stood and walked back to the town. Soon after crossing the bridge, she passed an elder. “Why do you go out there? You know they won’t let you up.”
“I know. It’s just quieter out there.”
“You know, Mecora, the more you sulk, the worse it’ll get. You have to move on, or else life will leave you behind.”
“Are you trying to tell me to forget my friends, and just pretend they don’t exist?”
“Well... You may have to. The King does have reasons for what he does. We may not always know what they are, but if he found the light Vle dangerous, then perhaps some are.”
Mecora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How can you say that?! Some of your friends are locked up, too!”
“I know, dear, I know. We all have to make our little sacrifices for the good of the kingdom.”
Her blood boiled, and her tongue let loose: “Burn you, and burn this whole town!” Finally, all she could do was dash away.
Though she thought she was headed home, she realized just before she opened the door that she had arrived at the house where Ueal had lived. She was about to turn around and run home, but she heard a sound inside, like something was bumped.
Slowly, cautiously, she opened the door. It was dark, but her eyes soon adjusted. All of the furniture was just as she remembered, only covered by a thick layer of dust. She heard a shuffle from the master bedroom, so she went as quietly as she could in that direction. Then, she opened the door.
From behind a chest, a foot stuck out. “Who’s there?”
No reply.
She went over to the chest, and said, “I can see your foot. Who are you?”
The foot disappeared behind the chest, and she heard another shuffle. Finally, the person stood.
It was a light-skinned boy maybe a couple years older than her. “Don’t tell, please don’t tell! I won’t hurt anyone, I promise!”
“Why should I think you would? Except maybe the odd rabbit or two, and whatever insect you care to torture. What are you doing in here? This is my friend’s house!”
“You mean— your friend is—”
“Yeah, ‘camping.’ Actually two of them. And another drank herself to death, she was so depressed.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. Well, come on. You can’t stay in here forever.”
“Why not? I’d rather.”
“Someone would hear you! Who knows what they’d do then.”
“But where can I go? I don’t have any idea where I am, I can’t hunt very well...”
“You can’t hunt?!” Mecora couldn’t believe it. Most boys learned to as part of growing up. “Why not?!”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t hunt, I just meant I’m not very good at it. I’m not good enough to feed myself.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, my name’s Spreak.”
“Mecora. Nice to meet you. Now, come on. Let’s go to my Mom’s house. By the way, how did you get here without being noticed?”
“Every house has a water pipe. I just picked the first available dry one.”
“Your parents must be worried sick about you.”
“I know. But I’m gonna get them out. Someday, I will! And then we can all just go back to Varmac.”
“You mean, you didn’t grow up here in Larmania?”
“No! We were just on vacation.”
“Vacation? What’s that?”
“It’s... it’s when you leave home to go somewhere else. Just for the fun of it, or to see different scenery, different trees...”
“Wow. Your family must be rich.”
Spreak shrugged. “Well, I guess you could say that we are.”
Mecora couldn’t even imagine having enough money to leave home just for fun. She tried, but then realized she and Spreak still were in Ueal’s house. “Come on, let’s go to my house.”
Spreak appeared to hesitate, and then nodded. “Okay, but if we get trouble, I’m outta this town for good.”
“We won’t, I promise.” Mecora opened the door, and they cautiously walked out. In the improved light, Mecora realized Spreak was cute! She swallowed. “Act like absolutely nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah,” agreed Spreak.
Mecora did her best, but there were those who stared. Children pointed, and told their mothers; other adults whispered in their friend’s ears. In fact, an elder actually stopped them. “Hey now, Mecora. Where did you find this fella?”
“He escaped from that last group that went by.”
“You realize, of course, that we have to report this to the next troop that comes by.”
“You wouldn’t!”
The elder shrugged. “I’m afraid we have to. The King said so.”
“But he isn’t here, is he? How would ever know that one, single light Vle wasn’t in his flaming camp?! How could you possibly do that to a person?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes you do, so make it!” With that, she took Spreak’s arm, and began to stalk away.
But the elder had the other arm. “We should keep him in a safe place too, Mecora.”
“Elder! I don’t believe you! Let go! He’s not a criminal, so just— let— go!”
“I can’t, Dear. It’s for the good of Kelwome.”
Mecora searched the crowd frantically for friendly faces, Vle who would take her side. But most of those who were even paying attention wore, at best, neutral expressions.
Finally, she happened to see her mother. “Mom! Mom!” Mecora was relieved to see her turn in her direction and approach.
“Mecora, what trouble are you in now?”
“The Elder Stussell wants to keep Spreak locked up until the soldiers get here!”
“Well, that is what the King commanded, dear.”
“Mom! You don’t understand! Spreak isn’t even from Larmania, he’s from Varmac!”
“It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a light Vle, Mecora,” said the Elder. “The King commanded all light Vle to move to the camp, and we’re not to hamper that movement.”
“You’re wrong! He commanded all of his subjects who were light-skinned to the camp. Spreak doesn’t count!”
“Well, that’s a matter we’ll have to leave up to the soldiers who come,” pronounced the Elder. And the tone of his voice meant he considered the matter closed.
Mecorsa didn’t. Seeing a break in the crowd, she bit the arm that held Spreak tightly, and pulled him away. Off they ran, as fast as they could through the stunned shoppers and merchants. Up to the next platform, across to the other tree, down to the original platform, and finally, across the bridge to the monastery tree. All the way, elders chased them.
“What are you doing?” asked Mecora. “We can’t get up there!”
“We don’t have to.” Spreak led the way up the steps, but stopped halfway up. Now, the tree was between them and the pursuing elders. Mecora watched as he looked... deeply at the tree, and sang the oddest song she had ever heard. Then, she realized it was a treesong, only quite a bit different from the one used by the local ‘singers in town. Before her eyes, a hole opened, quickly becoming just big enough for the both of them. They crawled in, and he sang again, closing the bark over the hole. Then, they waited.
They heard the passage of the elders, and some others as well. It seemed to Mecora that they were in there for an hour at least. Finally, Spreak opened a small hole, and looked out. “It’s clear.”
“But, now what?”
“I dunno. We could stay here, I suppose.”
“But there’s no food.”
“Good point.”
“So, why didn’t you use that in Ueal’s house to hide from me?”
“Well, you would have heard me singing.”
“You can’t whisper the ‘song?”
“No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh.” She paused, and thought about their situation. “Well, I bet if we waited until nighttime, I could go home and get some food. Maybe then I can convince Mom to let you hide in our house.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you can.”
“But, if anyone found out, you’d get in so much trouble...”
“I don’t care. This whole thing burns forest. If it takes a little bit of trouble to make people wake up and smell the smoke, maybe we can stoke the flames.”
“Why, Mecora, you sound like a poet.”
She didn’t understand that comment. “Why?”
“You used a metaphor. You started with the burning forest, and applied the idea to the situation in the kingdom.”
“Well, yeah, it just kinda made sense—”
“Not many kids our age would think of that so easily. I’d say you have a gift.”
“You mean, like your treesinging? I thought that was something you had to learn to do.”
“It is, and you’re right. I have that gift.”
Mecora realized she was feeling a little strange, alone in the darkness with a boy who had just complimented her... She cleared her throat. “Well, I’d better get going.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She slipped out the hole, and used the cover of darkness to make her way to her house.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
In all, it was four days before the very same functionary returned and ‘invited’ him to a meeting with the Voice. The small space was deep in the tree, lit by a light-pipe. It was very simple, as well: only an unornamented table and chairs. The Vle that sat in one was fairly old, but smiled fondly on Hyran when he entered. “I understand you were once a monk.”
“You understand correctly.”
“How can I help you in a way that the old texts cannot?”
“My question— no, my request is something that regards modern times. I have noticed that it seems no light Vle is safe from the King’s Proclamation.”
“Indeed, the King’s power is great. But we mustn’t be concerned with politics.”
“I have heard that said. But let me explain my question: The Great Master mandated personal freedom for all, did he not?”
“Yes.”
“And he has the power to guide our lives, does he not?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone’s lives, and not just those who follow him?”
“Everyone’s, yes.”
“Does he always?”
“No, of course not. He is not the Creator.”
Hyran had always agreed with that last statement. But now, he asked, “But if someone is about to violate one of his mandates, will he guide that someone along a different path?”
“Not necessarily. He may wish us, those who believe in him, to guide that someone for him.”
“Well, he obviously did not guide the King, for our light-skinned brothers are now without any personal freedom.”
“Are you implying, Son, that we ought to ignore our vows and get involved in politics?”
“I am implying that, since the Great Master did not guide the King away from violating His Mandate, it must be up to us to do the guiding.”
“We do not know all the issues involved—”
“There is only one issue here, Voice. Personal Freedom, a Mandate of the Great Master Himself. It is being violated in the grossest fashion ever in the history of Vle-kind, and no one is guiding the King away from his mistake.”
“We still do not know all the issues, Son. It may simply be that it is a test of those who carry on His exalted work. We have taken a vow to remain uninvolved.”
“That seems like supremely twisted logic, to test the vow that constrains a mere five thousand Vle by violating His own Mandate and affecting the lives of fifty thousand innocents.”
The elder Vle spread his arms. “Who are we understand the Great Master?”
“Is that not your job, Voice?”
“Well, yes—”
“Which is why I came to you.”
“Oh, dear. I fear you will need to speak to someone closer to the Great Master than I.”
“When, may I ask?”
“The same time as now: upon availability, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Go with the forgiveness of the Great Master.”
“Go with the Great Master at your side,” Hyran responded, and went out.
The functionary who met him there smiled. “Did yoou find the answer you wanted?”
“No,” replied Hyran with a shake of his head, “I am to see one of the Representative’s Speakers.”
“Ah. I hope he can answer your question.”
“Me too.”
The wait was longer, the meeting space was more elaborate, but the conversation with the Speaker went much the same. The Vle even commented that it seemed as though Hyran had failed the Great Master’s test.
Hyran didn’t think so. “I feel driven to do his will. He is not inconsistent or illogical.”
“What his logic is, only His Representative knows for sure. I will grant you an audience with him.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“However, I feel I must warn you. The Voice and I have been lenient. To ask the Rep to break his vows in full knowledge of those vows is to ask for expulsion from the faith. It shows a certain... insincerity. Do you still wish this audience?”
“Absolutely.”
“Very well. I suggest you word your request carefully.”
More carefully?! How much more careful with his words could he get? “I am grateful for your advice, Speaker. Go with the forgiveness of the Great Master.”
“Go with the Great Master at your side.”
Hyran stepped out, and headed back to his room, wondering just how long he would have to wait this time.
And if he would, at the end of that wait, lose the faith that had made him what he was.
“You understand correctly.”
“How can I help you in a way that the old texts cannot?”
“My question— no, my request is something that regards modern times. I have noticed that it seems no light Vle is safe from the King’s Proclamation.”
“Indeed, the King’s power is great. But we mustn’t be concerned with politics.”
“I have heard that said. But let me explain my question: The Great Master mandated personal freedom for all, did he not?”
“Yes.”
“And he has the power to guide our lives, does he not?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone’s lives, and not just those who follow him?”
“Everyone’s, yes.”
“Does he always?”
“No, of course not. He is not the Creator.”
Hyran had always agreed with that last statement. But now, he asked, “But if someone is about to violate one of his mandates, will he guide that someone along a different path?”
“Not necessarily. He may wish us, those who believe in him, to guide that someone for him.”
“Well, he obviously did not guide the King, for our light-skinned brothers are now without any personal freedom.”
“Are you implying, Son, that we ought to ignore our vows and get involved in politics?”
“I am implying that, since the Great Master did not guide the King away from violating His Mandate, it must be up to us to do the guiding.”
“We do not know all the issues involved—”
“There is only one issue here, Voice. Personal Freedom, a Mandate of the Great Master Himself. It is being violated in the grossest fashion ever in the history of Vle-kind, and no one is guiding the King away from his mistake.”
“We still do not know all the issues, Son. It may simply be that it is a test of those who carry on His exalted work. We have taken a vow to remain uninvolved.”
“That seems like supremely twisted logic, to test the vow that constrains a mere five thousand Vle by violating His own Mandate and affecting the lives of fifty thousand innocents.”
The elder Vle spread his arms. “Who are we understand the Great Master?”
“Is that not your job, Voice?”
“Well, yes—”
“Which is why I came to you.”
“Oh, dear. I fear you will need to speak to someone closer to the Great Master than I.”
“When, may I ask?”
“The same time as now: upon availability, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Go with the forgiveness of the Great Master.”
“Go with the Great Master at your side,” Hyran responded, and went out.
The functionary who met him there smiled. “Did yoou find the answer you wanted?”
“No,” replied Hyran with a shake of his head, “I am to see one of the Representative’s Speakers.”
“Ah. I hope he can answer your question.”
“Me too.”
The wait was longer, the meeting space was more elaborate, but the conversation with the Speaker went much the same. The Vle even commented that it seemed as though Hyran had failed the Great Master’s test.
Hyran didn’t think so. “I feel driven to do his will. He is not inconsistent or illogical.”
“What his logic is, only His Representative knows for sure. I will grant you an audience with him.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“However, I feel I must warn you. The Voice and I have been lenient. To ask the Rep to break his vows in full knowledge of those vows is to ask for expulsion from the faith. It shows a certain... insincerity. Do you still wish this audience?”
“Absolutely.”
“Very well. I suggest you word your request carefully.”
More carefully?! How much more careful with his words could he get? “I am grateful for your advice, Speaker. Go with the forgiveness of the Great Master.”
“Go with the Great Master at your side.”
Hyran stepped out, and headed back to his room, wondering just how long he would have to wait this time.
And if he would, at the end of that wait, lose the faith that had made him what he was.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
He lay awake a very long time every night, wishing for the Holy Oil to help him dream up an answer to the dilemma. And the answer was there, somewhere, just beyond his reach, tantalizingly close just at the point when true sleep finally came. And then, the next thing he knew, the birds were singing their ever more familiar morning song.
But this night was different. He determined to stay awake until he had the answer. What was it that made him feel so unfulfilled? Was there somewhere else he was supposed to go? Was there something else he could do?
Perhaps.
Perhaps? He didn’t understand where that thought had come from.
Perhaps he could go to Kezantopil and talk to church officials there.
And as ludicrous as that seemed (Why wouldn’t they just throw him out like the abbot had?) he knew there was no reason not to try.
He knew he simply had to try.
He also knew he would need a burning good argument.
Morning came, and Hyran got up with far more purpose than ever before.
The meal-grass he’d planted the previous week was already producing, as it had long ago been bred to do. He collected as much as he could, and packed up again. He spent some time collecting more fruit on the forest floor below, before heading back for the road.
First he headed northwest, to a fork in the road. It was the left one that he chose, which went to Hame, a rich port at the very end of the Gulf of Ladia. With luck, he’d arrive before nightfall, and be able to stay in the church there.
It wasn’t long after he chose that road that he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look, and saw a thin young Vle walking more quickly than he.
The younger Vle noticed Hyran’s glance, and said, “Hello there, fellow traveler! Mind if I walk with you for a while?”
Hyran responded with a shrug. “If you wish. I would like to make Hame today.”
“Me too, me too. I hope to make Kezantopil eventually.”
“I suggest you eat something, then!”
The thin Vle chuckled. “Of course, of course. I’ve been depending on the generosity of other travelers, but I find that times must be too hard for anyone to spare a crumb.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. By the way, my name is...” He paused before saying, “Hyran.” Why should he continue to use the name he chose at the monastery? Perhaps because he was still in the Great Master’s service.
“Valph’s my name. Nice to meet you,” replied the younger.
“Well, I’ll be stopping for the midday meal soon. I’m just waiting for the sun to be a little higher. I ought to be able to spare some meal-grain.”
“Meal-grain? Are you on a pilgrimage, too?”
“You might say that. However, I don’t see any reason to starve myself along the way.”
“Well, going hungry like this really clears the mind, let me tell ya. Y’see, I figured you for a pilgrim because of your robe. It looks like a monk’s robe, but I know that monks aren’t allowed out of the monastery except in the Deschule season, so...”
“You are an astute one, Valph. I was a monk, up until two weeks ago.”
“It’s possible to quit? I thought it was a life-long service.”
“Theoretically, yes. But you have to admit that being a monk is not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea. They will let you out if it’s clear that you fit into that category.”
“Like you?”
“Hmmm, I haven’t yet figured that one out. So I assume you hope to enter the service of the Great Master?”
“Nope. I no longer believe in him. As a deity, that is.”
“Really? I didn’t realize there was anyone else to be a pilgrim to.”
“It’s not a who, but a what. Or, more precisely, a concept, or a feeling. It’s hard to say, really. I’m a pilgrim to Love.”
“Love? They’ve made a religion out of love?”
“Sure! Let me tell you all about it. We call ourselves Exians....”
The sun had just dropped underneath the trees when they arrived at Hame. It was easily one of the biggest cities Hyran had ever been to, comprised of five levels, plus the ground, around no less than ten trees! If he remembered correctly, the church was on the third level of tree F.
“Well, Valph,” he said, “I’ll hopefully be sleeping in a church this evening. I’m sorry they won’t invite you in.”
“No problem. There are plenty of Exians here. Shall we continue to Kezantopil together?”
“Sure. But surely you don’t expect to convert anyone there.”
Valph shrugged. “Just because I don’t take the Great Master as a deity doesn’t mean I can’t learn more about his wisdom.”
“Interesting. If he’s not a deity, how did he get to be so wise?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, yes it does, but— Oh, it’s getting dark. Let’s meet tomorrow morning. At the base of tree H? If I remember right, it’s the one by the road south.”
“Agreed.”
They parted, and Hyran went off to find the church. It was right where he remembered it, though some modifications had been made. Apparently, membership had shrunk, such that they didn’t need nearly as large a space as before.
He got a place to sleep and some food, and rested deeply from his long walk.
The next morning, they met on schedule, and continued on their way, now headed south along the long peninsula.
“Didn’t that city seem awfully quiet?” asked Hyran.
Valph shook his head. “No! It positively bustled, compared to any place I’ve been before. Why, do you think so?”
“Absolutely. I have been there before, a long time ago, and it was much busier then.”
“Because the light Vle are gone now, right?”
“Exactly.”
“I wasn’t aware light Vle had ever been there. Wow. If so, then that must really have been a busy port.”
“It still is, but there are fewer people now to do the same work.”
“What a totally unloving thing for a King to do to his subjects. I can’t imagine why he’d want to do such a thing. And why hasn’t anyone tried to stop it? Surely the Church—”
“Could change the King’s mind, yes, I agree completely. I’ve met a number of people who think so, but, you see, such a point of view does not get you far in a monastery, much less in the priesthood.”
“Whoa, I forgot about that, the non-involvement thing.”
“But I hope to change that.” Hyran realized that that hope had grown quite a bit since leaving.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
The forest they passed through seemed empty, as empty as the area around Kelwome— for the same reason, of course. That isn’t to say that there weren’t Vle, merely that there weren’t many of them.
Incredibly, an army passed them on their way south. Were they headed into war? “Excuse me,” Hyran asked one of the passing soldiers, “could you tell me where you are going?”
The soldier moved his horse out of postition and slowed his pace. “We are going to fortify the port of Jisac. The light Vle might attack it any day now.”
“In defense of their kin?”
“Yeah, the dirty rats. They don’t seem to understand just how they’ve ruined our kingdom.”
“Indeed. And how, pray tell, have they done that?”
“Oh, with their mine strikes, their bank strikes, and burning boats in ports around the country, they tried to put our economy in a noose! And they’ve even infiltrated our government with spies, too.”
“I see.” Hyran didn’t believe it, but nodded. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“At your service, Father.” The soldier set his horse to a trot to catch up and get back in position.
Hyran threw up his arms. “Ridiculous. Why should these allegations surface all of a sudden, after all this peace?”
“I don’t know.” They fell into silence and kept walking.
More than once, they also passed groups of light Vle headed north, prodded by a troop of soldiers behind them. It was one thing to watch them from above, detached by the two- or three-canopy distance, but on the ground, seeing the faces head on really plucked the heart strings. The somber expressions were uniform, even on the smallest children. No one spoke, seeming to concentrate on every footstep.
Hyran almost cried out, but he didn’t really know what words there were to cry. If only the Representative himself could be there at that moment, to see the cruelty caused by the flaming stupid non-involvement edict... [Caused? not by us, but the King...] Hyran somehow knew that would be exactly what the Rep would say. And yet he’d have to try. He knew he had to.
The ‘parade’ passed, but the pall remained. Hyran felt there was nothing to say; he could see on Valph’s face the same unwillingness to say anything. Others on the road wore the same expression. If the King could see this, too... But of course he never would, locked as he always was in the palace.
“I hope I never see that again,” said Valph, but of course they passed four more caravans in their week-long walk to Kezantopil.
But Hyran had trouble just sitting around, so he took rides on one of the city’s many seated chariots to do some sightseeing in the city he’d only read (and dreamed) about. To his surprise, as was the case for everywhere else in light-Vle areas, the city was quiet and subdued. Empty spaces abounded, and there wasn’t a light-skinned face anywhere.
Not even the Great Master’s holiest city in all the world was above a mere King’s Proclamation?! It made Hyran despair somewhat. If the sight of soldiers leading shocked priests away from the seclusion that was Kezantopil didn’t make The Rep say something, what in the world could he, a mere ex-monk (emphasis on the ex) say to change that?
But this night was different. He determined to stay awake until he had the answer. What was it that made him feel so unfulfilled? Was there somewhere else he was supposed to go? Was there something else he could do?
Perhaps.
Perhaps? He didn’t understand where that thought had come from.
Perhaps he could go to Kezantopil and talk to church officials there.
And as ludicrous as that seemed (Why wouldn’t they just throw him out like the abbot had?) he knew there was no reason not to try.
He knew he simply had to try.
He also knew he would need a burning good argument.
Morning came, and Hyran got up with far more purpose than ever before.
The meal-grass he’d planted the previous week was already producing, as it had long ago been bred to do. He collected as much as he could, and packed up again. He spent some time collecting more fruit on the forest floor below, before heading back for the road.
First he headed northwest, to a fork in the road. It was the left one that he chose, which went to Hame, a rich port at the very end of the Gulf of Ladia. With luck, he’d arrive before nightfall, and be able to stay in the church there.
It wasn’t long after he chose that road that he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look, and saw a thin young Vle walking more quickly than he.
The younger Vle noticed Hyran’s glance, and said, “Hello there, fellow traveler! Mind if I walk with you for a while?”
Hyran responded with a shrug. “If you wish. I would like to make Hame today.”
“Me too, me too. I hope to make Kezantopil eventually.”
“I suggest you eat something, then!”
The thin Vle chuckled. “Of course, of course. I’ve been depending on the generosity of other travelers, but I find that times must be too hard for anyone to spare a crumb.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. By the way, my name is...” He paused before saying, “Hyran.” Why should he continue to use the name he chose at the monastery? Perhaps because he was still in the Great Master’s service.
“Valph’s my name. Nice to meet you,” replied the younger.
“Well, I’ll be stopping for the midday meal soon. I’m just waiting for the sun to be a little higher. I ought to be able to spare some meal-grain.”
“Meal-grain? Are you on a pilgrimage, too?”
“You might say that. However, I don’t see any reason to starve myself along the way.”
“Well, going hungry like this really clears the mind, let me tell ya. Y’see, I figured you for a pilgrim because of your robe. It looks like a monk’s robe, but I know that monks aren’t allowed out of the monastery except in the Deschule season, so...”
“You are an astute one, Valph. I was a monk, up until two weeks ago.”
“It’s possible to quit? I thought it was a life-long service.”
“Theoretically, yes. But you have to admit that being a monk is not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea. They will let you out if it’s clear that you fit into that category.”
“Like you?”
“Hmmm, I haven’t yet figured that one out. So I assume you hope to enter the service of the Great Master?”
“Nope. I no longer believe in him. As a deity, that is.”
“Really? I didn’t realize there was anyone else to be a pilgrim to.”
“It’s not a who, but a what. Or, more precisely, a concept, or a feeling. It’s hard to say, really. I’m a pilgrim to Love.”
“Love? They’ve made a religion out of love?”
“Sure! Let me tell you all about it. We call ourselves Exians....”
The sun had just dropped underneath the trees when they arrived at Hame. It was easily one of the biggest cities Hyran had ever been to, comprised of five levels, plus the ground, around no less than ten trees! If he remembered correctly, the church was on the third level of tree F.
“Well, Valph,” he said, “I’ll hopefully be sleeping in a church this evening. I’m sorry they won’t invite you in.”
“No problem. There are plenty of Exians here. Shall we continue to Kezantopil together?”
“Sure. But surely you don’t expect to convert anyone there.”
Valph shrugged. “Just because I don’t take the Great Master as a deity doesn’t mean I can’t learn more about his wisdom.”
“Interesting. If he’s not a deity, how did he get to be so wise?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, yes it does, but— Oh, it’s getting dark. Let’s meet tomorrow morning. At the base of tree H? If I remember right, it’s the one by the road south.”
“Agreed.”
They parted, and Hyran went off to find the church. It was right where he remembered it, though some modifications had been made. Apparently, membership had shrunk, such that they didn’t need nearly as large a space as before.
He got a place to sleep and some food, and rested deeply from his long walk.
The next morning, they met on schedule, and continued on their way, now headed south along the long peninsula.
“Didn’t that city seem awfully quiet?” asked Hyran.
Valph shook his head. “No! It positively bustled, compared to any place I’ve been before. Why, do you think so?”
“Absolutely. I have been there before, a long time ago, and it was much busier then.”
“Because the light Vle are gone now, right?”
“Exactly.”
“I wasn’t aware light Vle had ever been there. Wow. If so, then that must really have been a busy port.”
“It still is, but there are fewer people now to do the same work.”
“What a totally unloving thing for a King to do to his subjects. I can’t imagine why he’d want to do such a thing. And why hasn’t anyone tried to stop it? Surely the Church—”
“Could change the King’s mind, yes, I agree completely. I’ve met a number of people who think so, but, you see, such a point of view does not get you far in a monastery, much less in the priesthood.”
“Whoa, I forgot about that, the non-involvement thing.”
“But I hope to change that.” Hyran realized that that hope had grown quite a bit since leaving.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
The forest they passed through seemed empty, as empty as the area around Kelwome— for the same reason, of course. That isn’t to say that there weren’t Vle, merely that there weren’t many of them.
Incredibly, an army passed them on their way south. Were they headed into war? “Excuse me,” Hyran asked one of the passing soldiers, “could you tell me where you are going?”
The soldier moved his horse out of postition and slowed his pace. “We are going to fortify the port of Jisac. The light Vle might attack it any day now.”
“In defense of their kin?”
“Yeah, the dirty rats. They don’t seem to understand just how they’ve ruined our kingdom.”
“Indeed. And how, pray tell, have they done that?”
“Oh, with their mine strikes, their bank strikes, and burning boats in ports around the country, they tried to put our economy in a noose! And they’ve even infiltrated our government with spies, too.”
“I see.” Hyran didn’t believe it, but nodded. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“At your service, Father.” The soldier set his horse to a trot to catch up and get back in position.
Hyran threw up his arms. “Ridiculous. Why should these allegations surface all of a sudden, after all this peace?”
“I don’t know.” They fell into silence and kept walking.
More than once, they also passed groups of light Vle headed north, prodded by a troop of soldiers behind them. It was one thing to watch them from above, detached by the two- or three-canopy distance, but on the ground, seeing the faces head on really plucked the heart strings. The somber expressions were uniform, even on the smallest children. No one spoke, seeming to concentrate on every footstep.
Hyran almost cried out, but he didn’t really know what words there were to cry. If only the Representative himself could be there at that moment, to see the cruelty caused by the flaming stupid non-involvement edict... [Caused? not by us, but the King...] Hyran somehow knew that would be exactly what the Rep would say. And yet he’d have to try. He knew he had to.
The ‘parade’ passed, but the pall remained. Hyran felt there was nothing to say; he could see on Valph’s face the same unwillingness to say anything. Others on the road wore the same expression. If the King could see this, too... But of course he never would, locked as he always was in the palace.
“I hope I never see that again,” said Valph, but of course they passed four more caravans in their week-long walk to Kezantopil.
But Hyran had trouble just sitting around, so he took rides on one of the city’s many seated chariots to do some sightseeing in the city he’d only read (and dreamed) about. To his surprise, as was the case for everywhere else in light-Vle areas, the city was quiet and subdued. Empty spaces abounded, and there wasn’t a light-skinned face anywhere.
Not even the Great Master’s holiest city in all the world was above a mere King’s Proclamation?! It made Hyran despair somewhat. If the sight of soldiers leading shocked priests away from the seclusion that was Kezantopil didn’t make The Rep say something, what in the world could he, a mere ex-monk (emphasis on the ex) say to change that?
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Monk
The forest was a far more forbidding place on the ground, a feeling that Hyran had never succeeded in getting rid of as he grew up. The trees were immensely bigger than a Vle, and all the more so when viewed from the base. But such a feeling was irrational. After all, the trees had given so much to the Vle.
It already seemed as though the walk had taken forever, and it still seemed he had forever to go. It was impossible to see very far in the forest, and the road of course could not simply go straight through. Instead it wound from tree to tree, little more than dirt where there would otherwise be plants. He remembered that his old house had been some distance off the road to the north, and the tree to look for had a simple arrow ‘sung into it. However, any path there might have been was almost certainly obliterated by now.
Eventually, the road met the one from Sakes, the capital of Varabia, and Hyran continued toward Dronac. This road, of course was much busier, meaning that he actually saw other travelers on the road. The occasional merchant’s coach passed, and a messenger on a horse at full gallop, plus the odd traveler going at a much more relaxed pace. A few of the latter actually slowed further to talk to him.
The second one that stopped was full of news. “The King’s proclamation has really put this nation in jeopardy,” said the mounted Vle, who had introduced himself as Intosh. He was dressed fairly well, in the latest metallic colors. A merchant, perhaps, or a banker.
“Oh? Economically, or—”
“That, and there are rumors of armies massing outside our borders.”
“Rumors?” asked Hyran skeptically.
“Yes, I realize one cannot always believe every rumor, but this is one that seems to be confirmed by every merchant and traveler coming out of A’peine.”
“A’peine? I would have expected Varmacia to attack first, if anyone. Are they no longer the strongest of our neighbors?”
“Well... Yes, I suppose you could say that. A’peine’s not far behind, however, and remember those of Karel Island.”
“Yes, of course.” Oh, dear. War. Would that be enough to make the Representative speak against the King? “Does anyone have any idea how long until the battle begins, if it does?”
“No. Oh, I’ve heard everything between a tomorrow and next month, but I’m reasonably sure that if they are massing, it’s a bluff to make our great King let the light Vle go.”
“You have given me much to think about, Intosh. I should not presume to hinder your way further.”
“Oh, nonsense, it’s always a pleasure talking to a fellow traveler. However, I do have some distance yet before I reach the next town. Happy travels!”
“Indeed, the same for you,” Hyran replied, and the mounted Vle spurred his horse to a trot.
War?....
Sure enough, the brilliant orange arrow was still on the tree, and Hyran stopped. As he remembered, his house was on the fourth tree in, but now it was a matter of getting there through the thick underbrush. The point where the path had begun was now nothing more than a widening in the road, where more than a few travelers had left signs of having overnighted. Beyond that, there did seem to be a section where the vegetation was shorter and not so thick, but that could have been Hyran’s imagination.
Imagination or not, he pushed his way in. Each step was an effort, and he had to keep his hands up in front of his face. On and on he pushed, reaching the second tree.... then the third, and finally the fourth. He looked up, and found the remains of the house, even more delapidated now than when he had returned thirty years before. It was even an effort to begin the climb up, since many of the steps were now gone. They simply went straight up the tree like a ladder, and on more than one occasion, Hyran had a three-rung space to cross.
Finally, he made it to the small platform in front of the house, which had a few holes. Those would have to be patched, of course; for the moment, he went on into the house itself.
It was musty inside, and the smell of sap was thick. Given time, a tree would always try to reclaim what it had lost. Only continuous occupation could prevent it it. Now, however, all of the surfaces were rougher, and extended from where they had been. Hyran often had to duck, and the overall floorspace was smaller, but the one room would still serve... once he got a treesinger to deal with the floor and ceiling, that is. His own skills were too rusty from disuse.
He went back out, to check the garden. The soil had been stubbornly unproductive before, a dry, red color that indicated the lack of any decayed matter at all.
Now, however, it seemed a few generations of hardy plants had taken over and made it fertile again. There were still a few insect-catchers, but the rest were tall grasses and spiny weeds. They would all have to go, of course.
But that could wait. He was too tired to do anything just yet.
The birds that woke him the next morning sang a strange song, a familiar song. The species in that part of the country were somewhat different than near the monastery, and it was strange to hear them now after so many years of being away.
He got up and dug in his bag for breakfast, thinking about what he needed to do: Till the garden, patch the platform, replace some ladder rungs, collect whatever fruits might be growing below, and maybe try his luck at treesinging to make more headroom. Otherwise, it would be a long walk to the nearest town. (Would Jabbro even still be alive? Or perhaps his son...)
One by one, he tackled the chores. However, it all took much longer than he had expected. In fact, it was a week before the reconstruction projects were finished, and he was gratified that he could still at least ‘sing a floor and ceiling back to flatness.
But as engaging as the work was, he still felt something was wrong. He felt as if he’d abandoned someone, or something. But that wasn’t true! He had stood up for what he’d believed, and the monastery had abandoned him. The fate of the nation was now out of his hands.
And yet the twinge of guilt remained. All of his chores seemed pointless. They preserved life, but were so base in comparison to the things that were going on beyond his little section of the Great Forest. This was very much how he had lived the last thirty years— absorbed only in the immediate interests of the monastery, as grandly spiritual as they were. And that had been enough, because they were of course so much more important than anything else.
Perhaps that was what he was missing.
It already seemed as though the walk had taken forever, and it still seemed he had forever to go. It was impossible to see very far in the forest, and the road of course could not simply go straight through. Instead it wound from tree to tree, little more than dirt where there would otherwise be plants. He remembered that his old house had been some distance off the road to the north, and the tree to look for had a simple arrow ‘sung into it. However, any path there might have been was almost certainly obliterated by now.
Eventually, the road met the one from Sakes, the capital of Varabia, and Hyran continued toward Dronac. This road, of course was much busier, meaning that he actually saw other travelers on the road. The occasional merchant’s coach passed, and a messenger on a horse at full gallop, plus the odd traveler going at a much more relaxed pace. A few of the latter actually slowed further to talk to him.
The second one that stopped was full of news. “The King’s proclamation has really put this nation in jeopardy,” said the mounted Vle, who had introduced himself as Intosh. He was dressed fairly well, in the latest metallic colors. A merchant, perhaps, or a banker.
“Oh? Economically, or—”
“That, and there are rumors of armies massing outside our borders.”
“Rumors?” asked Hyran skeptically.
“Yes, I realize one cannot always believe every rumor, but this is one that seems to be confirmed by every merchant and traveler coming out of A’peine.”
“A’peine? I would have expected Varmacia to attack first, if anyone. Are they no longer the strongest of our neighbors?”
“Well... Yes, I suppose you could say that. A’peine’s not far behind, however, and remember those of Karel Island.”
“Yes, of course.” Oh, dear. War. Would that be enough to make the Representative speak against the King? “Does anyone have any idea how long until the battle begins, if it does?”
“No. Oh, I’ve heard everything between a tomorrow and next month, but I’m reasonably sure that if they are massing, it’s a bluff to make our great King let the light Vle go.”
“You have given me much to think about, Intosh. I should not presume to hinder your way further.”
“Oh, nonsense, it’s always a pleasure talking to a fellow traveler. However, I do have some distance yet before I reach the next town. Happy travels!”
“Indeed, the same for you,” Hyran replied, and the mounted Vle spurred his horse to a trot.
War?....
Sure enough, the brilliant orange arrow was still on the tree, and Hyran stopped. As he remembered, his house was on the fourth tree in, but now it was a matter of getting there through the thick underbrush. The point where the path had begun was now nothing more than a widening in the road, where more than a few travelers had left signs of having overnighted. Beyond that, there did seem to be a section where the vegetation was shorter and not so thick, but that could have been Hyran’s imagination.
Imagination or not, he pushed his way in. Each step was an effort, and he had to keep his hands up in front of his face. On and on he pushed, reaching the second tree.... then the third, and finally the fourth. He looked up, and found the remains of the house, even more delapidated now than when he had returned thirty years before. It was even an effort to begin the climb up, since many of the steps were now gone. They simply went straight up the tree like a ladder, and on more than one occasion, Hyran had a three-rung space to cross.
Finally, he made it to the small platform in front of the house, which had a few holes. Those would have to be patched, of course; for the moment, he went on into the house itself.
It was musty inside, and the smell of sap was thick. Given time, a tree would always try to reclaim what it had lost. Only continuous occupation could prevent it it. Now, however, all of the surfaces were rougher, and extended from where they had been. Hyran often had to duck, and the overall floorspace was smaller, but the one room would still serve... once he got a treesinger to deal with the floor and ceiling, that is. His own skills were too rusty from disuse.
He went back out, to check the garden. The soil had been stubbornly unproductive before, a dry, red color that indicated the lack of any decayed matter at all.
Now, however, it seemed a few generations of hardy plants had taken over and made it fertile again. There were still a few insect-catchers, but the rest were tall grasses and spiny weeds. They would all have to go, of course.
But that could wait. He was too tired to do anything just yet.
The birds that woke him the next morning sang a strange song, a familiar song. The species in that part of the country were somewhat different than near the monastery, and it was strange to hear them now after so many years of being away.
He got up and dug in his bag for breakfast, thinking about what he needed to do: Till the garden, patch the platform, replace some ladder rungs, collect whatever fruits might be growing below, and maybe try his luck at treesinging to make more headroom. Otherwise, it would be a long walk to the nearest town. (Would Jabbro even still be alive? Or perhaps his son...)
One by one, he tackled the chores. However, it all took much longer than he had expected. In fact, it was a week before the reconstruction projects were finished, and he was gratified that he could still at least ‘sing a floor and ceiling back to flatness.
But as engaging as the work was, he still felt something was wrong. He felt as if he’d abandoned someone, or something. But that wasn’t true! He had stood up for what he’d believed, and the monastery had abandoned him. The fate of the nation was now out of his hands.
And yet the twinge of guilt remained. All of his chores seemed pointless. They preserved life, but were so base in comparison to the things that were going on beyond his little section of the Great Forest. This was very much how he had lived the last thirty years— absorbed only in the immediate interests of the monastery, as grandly spiritual as they were. And that had been enough, because they were of course so much more important than anything else.
Perhaps that was what he was missing.
Friday, May 22, 2009
It was on Eighthday when Gardric usually returned to relax at the palace, but he came on Seventhday that week— with more bad news. He brought Taréz into the library.
“Something big, Gardric?”
The Chief only nodded as he pulled out a map, and spread it across the table. Taréz recognized it as a closeup of their border with A’peine. It wasn’t long, but it was important.
“The crosses are confirmed enemy positions, and their color indicates nation of origin. Note how many red ones there are. Those are Varmacians.”
The King used his finger to count the red crosses, versus the green ones— A’peinese. The numbers were about equal, with a few scattered blue ones, which were the token Zvaljan force.
“Curious. It looks as though they intend to attack from there, but that’s foolishness. I’d attack a number of our valley positions first. If they attack there, we’ll have them surrounded.” Taréz paused. “Is it possible they’re just practicing together?”
“Not the way they’re getting so close to the border. They’ve got scouts who are obviously looking for the best routes through the mountains, and the best fallback positions. Especially ones on our side.”
“Hmm. So under no circumstances should we chase them into the mountains, but let them come at us.”
“Very astute, Your Highness. But that bothers me.”
“Why?”
“That’s not an offensive tactic, exactly. It’s an... occupation tactic, meant to keep us busy.”
“They intend an invasion from somewhere else?”
“Apparently.”
Taréz didn’t have to think too long about who. “The Pulinians and the Kamileans.”
“That was my thought, as well. But now, we have to rush a scouting expedition to try to figure out, on the sea, where the intended landing point is, and hope to have a detachment there in time.”
The King looked shocked. “By the Great Master! Make it so.”
“I cannot guarantee we’ll be there in time. We may lose a significant size territory before we can counter-attack.”
“I understand. Send pigeons to warn the lords on both of those fronts. They can be there sooner.”
“I’ve already taken that liberty, Sire.”
“Good. Let’s now just hope they’ll support me.”
Gardric looked surprised. “You have reason to believe they would not?”
“They boycotted the ball.”
“A social comment does not mean lack of military support.”
“Come now, Gardric, you know better than to count on something when there’s a chance you can’t.”
“Of course, Sire.”
“In the meantime, send everyone in the camp home. I’ll send apologies post haste by pigeon.”
“Sire! I will do nothing of the sort!”
“Burn it! Why not?!” Taréz admired his father’s reserve. Gardric had just refused an order! On second thought, the reserve was not a strong tactic in this case.
“Sire! Our... guests, as you call them, can be a barganing chip. We have their lives on their hands. If our neighbors attack, we can counter with deaths in the camp.”
“Chief, I have never heard something so cowardly in my life! Those are families we’ve got, not soldiers! By the Great Master!” Much better, Father, Taréz thought.
“Excuse me, Sire, I only thought—”
“No, you didn’t think. Remember I told you that my conscience is also yours? You would do well to remember that.”
“I would still suggest we keep them in camp.”
“For what reason?”
“Returnees can give valuable information to invading armies, as well as allow access to the homes of our own citizens.”
Burn it! The Chief of the Army was right again.
“Very well, they stay. But I do not want to hear of a single death, is that clear? Not from you, not from anyone else there!”
“Of course, Sire.”
“Good. Now... You’d better prepare us for war. Dismissed.”
The Chief stood, rolled up his map, and left the library just as Stecky came in. “Sire?”
“Yes, Stecky. Did you find anything?”
“No, Sire. The cupro is all green.”
“Worthless.”
“Yes, Sire. And there is nothing else of appreciable worth.”
“Very well. From this point onward, my fund is the camp fund. Make sure it is used for quick improvements.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And, also, draft a letter to our northern neighbors. We may need their help badly, if we have to fight five nations all at once.”
“Of course.”
“Dismissed.”
“Something big, Gardric?”
The Chief only nodded as he pulled out a map, and spread it across the table. Taréz recognized it as a closeup of their border with A’peine. It wasn’t long, but it was important.
“The crosses are confirmed enemy positions, and their color indicates nation of origin. Note how many red ones there are. Those are Varmacians.”
The King used his finger to count the red crosses, versus the green ones— A’peinese. The numbers were about equal, with a few scattered blue ones, which were the token Zvaljan force.
“Curious. It looks as though they intend to attack from there, but that’s foolishness. I’d attack a number of our valley positions first. If they attack there, we’ll have them surrounded.” Taréz paused. “Is it possible they’re just practicing together?”
“Not the way they’re getting so close to the border. They’ve got scouts who are obviously looking for the best routes through the mountains, and the best fallback positions. Especially ones on our side.”
“Hmm. So under no circumstances should we chase them into the mountains, but let them come at us.”
“Very astute, Your Highness. But that bothers me.”
“Why?”
“That’s not an offensive tactic, exactly. It’s an... occupation tactic, meant to keep us busy.”
“They intend an invasion from somewhere else?”
“Apparently.”
Taréz didn’t have to think too long about who. “The Pulinians and the Kamileans.”
“That was my thought, as well. But now, we have to rush a scouting expedition to try to figure out, on the sea, where the intended landing point is, and hope to have a detachment there in time.”
The King looked shocked. “By the Great Master! Make it so.”
“I cannot guarantee we’ll be there in time. We may lose a significant size territory before we can counter-attack.”
“I understand. Send pigeons to warn the lords on both of those fronts. They can be there sooner.”
“I’ve already taken that liberty, Sire.”
“Good. Let’s now just hope they’ll support me.”
Gardric looked surprised. “You have reason to believe they would not?”
“They boycotted the ball.”
“A social comment does not mean lack of military support.”
“Come now, Gardric, you know better than to count on something when there’s a chance you can’t.”
“Of course, Sire.”
“In the meantime, send everyone in the camp home. I’ll send apologies post haste by pigeon.”
“Sire! I will do nothing of the sort!”
“Burn it! Why not?!” Taréz admired his father’s reserve. Gardric had just refused an order! On second thought, the reserve was not a strong tactic in this case.
“Sire! Our... guests, as you call them, can be a barganing chip. We have their lives on their hands. If our neighbors attack, we can counter with deaths in the camp.”
“Chief, I have never heard something so cowardly in my life! Those are families we’ve got, not soldiers! By the Great Master!” Much better, Father, Taréz thought.
“Excuse me, Sire, I only thought—”
“No, you didn’t think. Remember I told you that my conscience is also yours? You would do well to remember that.”
“I would still suggest we keep them in camp.”
“For what reason?”
“Returnees can give valuable information to invading armies, as well as allow access to the homes of our own citizens.”
Burn it! The Chief of the Army was right again.
“Very well, they stay. But I do not want to hear of a single death, is that clear? Not from you, not from anyone else there!”
“Of course, Sire.”
“Good. Now... You’d better prepare us for war. Dismissed.”
The Chief stood, rolled up his map, and left the library just as Stecky came in. “Sire?”
“Yes, Stecky. Did you find anything?”
“No, Sire. The cupro is all green.”
“Worthless.”
“Yes, Sire. And there is nothing else of appreciable worth.”
“Very well. From this point onward, my fund is the camp fund. Make sure it is used for quick improvements.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And, also, draft a letter to our northern neighbors. We may need their help badly, if we have to fight five nations all at once.”
“Of course.”
“Dismissed.”
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
It was only two days later that Taréz met Stecky headed upstairs with a message in hand. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “This just arrived for the King.”
“Aren’t all messages supposed to go through Gardric?” the Prince asked facetiously.
“W-well, y-yes, but... he’s not here, and... time constraints...”
“Relax, I’m glad you’re taking them directly to my father.”
“Actually, this is the first one I’ve dared be direct with. It comes from Yis.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take it myself.”
“That would make me feel much better, Sire.” The acting chamberlain handed over the message and bowed his exit.
Taréz went on up to the royal chambers, inspecting it as he went. Yis’ seal still carried the symbol of the chamberlain. Arriving at the door, he walked in with nary a knock. “Father, a message.”
“Thank you,” the King replied, and looked at the small roll a moment before breaking the seal. His face twitched a moment, and then he broke the wax. “Hmm! The writing does not belong to Yis.
“Your Majesty,
“This is a note to inform you without bias of today’s events. It carries the chamberlain’s seal so that it may pass with less suspicion, and to ensure your equanimity.
“Construction still does not equal the pace of arrivals, and the crowding is severe. This has caused many problems, and a number today decided to complain. We of the guard did not take this kindly, and the situation escalated to a full protest. The Chief ordered that all light Vle involved be summarily executed. Some were indeed killed, but Yis bargained for the lives of those remaining. They now sit on the roof of the newest completed building, chained as an example to others.
“I hope this note finds you well. I continue to be your most loyal and faithful servant,
Major Skigby.”
A Major had written the letter, Taréz noted— putting himself at no little risk. Gardric did not deal lightly with those in his army who presumed to disagree with his decisions, and a Major could be singled out. Still, he was glad of the information.
“Stecky!” his father called loudly.
The palace attaché arrived at the door within moments. “Sire?”
“Get Gardric here today.”
“Sire, it is getting dark—”
“I know, but this can’t wait. And once you’ve sent the ‘invite,’ I want you to copy the text of this letter, but without the name at the bottom.” He had a thought. “In fact, I won’t even let you read who wrote it, so you won’t be in danger.” The King took the letter and tore off the end where it was signed. Then, he handed the letter to the waiting Vle.
“Yes, Sire.” Stecky hurried off.
The King sighed. “You’d think Gardric would reward me for making this stupid Proclamation by at least treating the lights with a little respect. Thank the Great Master I put Yis in a position of power. My estimation of that Vle rises by the day.”
“King Renwar gave you a wonderful gift.”
“He did, indeed.” The King paused. “Attend when Gardric and I have our talk. We’ll wait for him in the Library.”
“The Library?”
“Your mother will want to be up here in the chamber. It’ll be evening before Gardric arrives.”
“Okay, Father.” Taréz stifled a sigh.
It was indeed well after dark when Gardric arrived. “Yes, Sire, you wished to see me?” he said when he entered the library.
“Indeed, Chief. I received an interesting report today.”
A flicker of uncomfort crossed the stony face and disappeared. “From..?”
“The camp. Here’s a copy. It concerns an uprising among my light-skinned subjects. Apparently construction is still not keeping pace with arrivals.”
“No, Sire. It... is difficult for the workers to work among the tight conditions.”
“I imagine so. Still, I wonder that either you still do not have enough workers or they aren’t working fast enough. The last, however, I doubt, since I would think they’d want to work fast to improve their lot. The design is two storied, is it not?”
“Uh, no, Sire, I had not considered—”
“Well, do so now. If it’s as crowded as the report indicated, one floor each will not be enough. And I want that wall extended!”
“It has been—”
“More, Gardric! I’m tired of your obfuscation and excuses. You were never so obtuse before, and I don’t want it from you now. Now tell me, what’s this about your bloody treatment of an uprising?!”
“It was a dangerous situation, Sire. It could not be allowed to continue. The lives of my soldiers were in jeopardy.”
“I have a feeling they wanted some discussion, Chief, not blood. Are you that war-thirsty, that you look for battles where there are none? What really concerns me is the lives your men took, and those you have sitting chained on a roof.”
“Sire.... your informativeness stuns me. I assure you, operatives of your own inside my organization are unnecessary...”
“Up to now, I am confident they have been. No, I don’t have an informant of my own, merely the good luck of there being an Vle under you with a conscience. The report was merely factual and without bias. I called you here because I didn’t care to wait for your report. I need you to fix the situation tomorrow. I want those who are chained released, and the families of those who lost their lives will be compensated when this whole mess is over.”
Gardric stiffened. “Yes, Sire. However, more uprisings may require stiffer responses.”
“No, the next uprising will require dialogue. The one after that— well, we’ll let them out.”
“Sire?!”
“I’m tired of this mess, Gardric. The only reason they’re still there is because you continue to bring or send reports of violent or counter-productive activity on the part of the light Vle remaining outside. You may be having fun, but I’m not, and until you’re King— fat chance, as you know— you’ll just have to deal with my conscience just as I do.”
“Of course, Sire. Your command is my law.”
“Now, go get some sleep so you can be energetic for carrying out my commands tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Gardic bowed low, and left.
The King stared out the door for a few moments. Taréz gave him a few more before asking, “What’s on your mind?”
“Money.”
“Still no luck finding the funds for the camp?”
“No. Wait, maybe I can find them in the books!”
“Father, when was the last time you’ve even looked at the books?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever looked at them. But I remember being taught something about accounting back when I was young... younger than you, in fact. And just beginning my reign. They simply haven’t been necessary, because I’ve always had a chamberlain to do it for me. Now, the tables of figures are on the desk just outside these chambers. Somewhere in there must be an answer.” He heaved himself to his feet and went out to that desk, Taréz following with curiosity. The younger Vle had had the same accounting lessons much more recently, and had actually worked with the books, but he let his father have his moment.
It took some searching, but the King finally found the page that listed the various funds the Kingdom had and what they currently contained. There was one for emergencies, such as fires, tornadoes, or earthquakes; there was his own, and finally the building fund. That last had nothing in it.
“The emergency fund, Father?”
“Well, though it looks healthy enough to stop adding to it, I think would be best to leave it as it is.”
“That leaves your own funds.” The fund used for new coaches, new robes, new thrones, ball expenses, palace repair, gilding replacement... Would his father be able to give that up?
“No. There has to be something else somewhere, a stash long forgotten... Stecky!”
As always, the young Vle appeared as if by magic. “Yes, Sire?”
“Get the librarian. Ask him if there’s any record anywhere of a stash of gold or platin... or even cobilum! that hasn’t been touched in years, or accounted for.”
“Yes, Sire.” Stecky bowed, and dashed off.
“You know,” the King remarked, “he definitely would make a good chamberlain, if he’d ever grow up.” He turned back to the books. “Maybe there’s a trace of an out-pay that I’m not familiar with, to a fund that I don’t remember. You know, I wish I hadn’t been ruling for so long, so that there’d more likely be something my father had neglected to mention, something no one remembered...”
“Unless perhaps your father did have a personal fund separate from the normal personal palace fund.”
The King was in motion, tearing through each page twice, looking at every line pertaining to the King’s funds. “Nothing.”
“Not in that book, Father, that’s just for this year. You’d have to find the books for the very beginning of your reign.”
“Well, I did discover something.”
“What’s that?” Taréz was confused.
“The economy is slipping far worse than I had previously thought. Hmm... the librarian hasn’t come up yet. Shall we go look for him?”
Taréz just shrugged, so they went downstairs to the library. There, they found the old Vle poring over a large number of dusty tomes, scrolls and even laquered wooden tablets with marks that the King couldn’t begin to decipher. “Well?” inquired the elder.
Furns didn’t reply, didn’t even seem to be aware that the King was there. The King tried again. “Furns! Have you found anything?”
The old man was startled, enough that he dropped one of the tomes. “Sire! I didn’t see you there.”
“So I noted. Anything?”
“I have only found one possibility so far, Sire. It seems your great grandfather stockpiled some cupro in the sub-cellar. However, it doesn’t detail where, or how much. Worse, I’m afraid I’m almost finished with every record we still have.”
“Perhaps we’ll find something else when we search the cellars. Is there any record of the current contents of the rooms down there?”
“But, of course. Yis made sure an inventory was taken every year.”
“Really? Why? Is it used that often?”
“No. It is simply so that staff is less likely to think they can take something without it being noticed.”
“However, they can easily take it while they’re counting,” the King countered.
“This is true, except Yis had always made sure he’s down there counting with them.”
“Hmm. Let’s take a look.”
Furns took a large, old book from a shelf and opened it on the table. “Note here that your illustrious ancestor Lajot the 21st took roughly one third of all cupro taxes for his very own. That wasn’t long after cupro’s usefulness was discovered, and he hoped to earn lots of money by restricting the supply and selling his share when the supply was low. Unfortunately, he died only a few years later.”
“So, his stockpile is not likely to be large.”
“No, and recent advances in mining have made it more plentiful. It won’t be worth much.”
“Still, it’s something. What else is there?”
“Oh, an old coach, a few platin bars, some cobilum statues—”
“Ew,” said Taréz.
“Yes, they were put down there after the metal lost popularity. As I was saying, there’s also a stockpile of old weapons, some human iron armor, and some old furniture, but nothing of much value. May I inquire, Your Majesty, as to the reason for your interest?”
“This camp is bankrupting the nation, and it may mean giving up my own personal fund.”
“I see. Well, we could sell all of this, but I doubt it will do much for your reputation or image. Plus, buyers may well know how desperate you are.”
“You’re advising me to use my fund?”
“I cannot advise you in this, Sire. I am a mere librarian.”
“Thanks. Stecky!”
Once again, the young Vle appeared in moments. “Yes, Sire?”
“Organize a search party. I want to know how valuable our stockpile of cupro is.”
“Right away, Sire.”
“Aren’t all messages supposed to go through Gardric?” the Prince asked facetiously.
“W-well, y-yes, but... he’s not here, and... time constraints...”
“Relax, I’m glad you’re taking them directly to my father.”
“Actually, this is the first one I’ve dared be direct with. It comes from Yis.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take it myself.”
“That would make me feel much better, Sire.” The acting chamberlain handed over the message and bowed his exit.
Taréz went on up to the royal chambers, inspecting it as he went. Yis’ seal still carried the symbol of the chamberlain. Arriving at the door, he walked in with nary a knock. “Father, a message.”
“Thank you,” the King replied, and looked at the small roll a moment before breaking the seal. His face twitched a moment, and then he broke the wax. “Hmm! The writing does not belong to Yis.
“Your Majesty,
“This is a note to inform you without bias of today’s events. It carries the chamberlain’s seal so that it may pass with less suspicion, and to ensure your equanimity.
“Construction still does not equal the pace of arrivals, and the crowding is severe. This has caused many problems, and a number today decided to complain. We of the guard did not take this kindly, and the situation escalated to a full protest. The Chief ordered that all light Vle involved be summarily executed. Some were indeed killed, but Yis bargained for the lives of those remaining. They now sit on the roof of the newest completed building, chained as an example to others.
“I hope this note finds you well. I continue to be your most loyal and faithful servant,
Major Skigby.”
A Major had written the letter, Taréz noted— putting himself at no little risk. Gardric did not deal lightly with those in his army who presumed to disagree with his decisions, and a Major could be singled out. Still, he was glad of the information.
“Stecky!” his father called loudly.
The palace attaché arrived at the door within moments. “Sire?”
“Get Gardric here today.”
“Sire, it is getting dark—”
“I know, but this can’t wait. And once you’ve sent the ‘invite,’ I want you to copy the text of this letter, but without the name at the bottom.” He had a thought. “In fact, I won’t even let you read who wrote it, so you won’t be in danger.” The King took the letter and tore off the end where it was signed. Then, he handed the letter to the waiting Vle.
“Yes, Sire.” Stecky hurried off.
The King sighed. “You’d think Gardric would reward me for making this stupid Proclamation by at least treating the lights with a little respect. Thank the Great Master I put Yis in a position of power. My estimation of that Vle rises by the day.”
“King Renwar gave you a wonderful gift.”
“He did, indeed.” The King paused. “Attend when Gardric and I have our talk. We’ll wait for him in the Library.”
“The Library?”
“Your mother will want to be up here in the chamber. It’ll be evening before Gardric arrives.”
“Okay, Father.” Taréz stifled a sigh.
It was indeed well after dark when Gardric arrived. “Yes, Sire, you wished to see me?” he said when he entered the library.
“Indeed, Chief. I received an interesting report today.”
A flicker of uncomfort crossed the stony face and disappeared. “From..?”
“The camp. Here’s a copy. It concerns an uprising among my light-skinned subjects. Apparently construction is still not keeping pace with arrivals.”
“No, Sire. It... is difficult for the workers to work among the tight conditions.”
“I imagine so. Still, I wonder that either you still do not have enough workers or they aren’t working fast enough. The last, however, I doubt, since I would think they’d want to work fast to improve their lot. The design is two storied, is it not?”
“Uh, no, Sire, I had not considered—”
“Well, do so now. If it’s as crowded as the report indicated, one floor each will not be enough. And I want that wall extended!”
“It has been—”
“More, Gardric! I’m tired of your obfuscation and excuses. You were never so obtuse before, and I don’t want it from you now. Now tell me, what’s this about your bloody treatment of an uprising?!”
“It was a dangerous situation, Sire. It could not be allowed to continue. The lives of my soldiers were in jeopardy.”
“I have a feeling they wanted some discussion, Chief, not blood. Are you that war-thirsty, that you look for battles where there are none? What really concerns me is the lives your men took, and those you have sitting chained on a roof.”
“Sire.... your informativeness stuns me. I assure you, operatives of your own inside my organization are unnecessary...”
“Up to now, I am confident they have been. No, I don’t have an informant of my own, merely the good luck of there being an Vle under you with a conscience. The report was merely factual and without bias. I called you here because I didn’t care to wait for your report. I need you to fix the situation tomorrow. I want those who are chained released, and the families of those who lost their lives will be compensated when this whole mess is over.”
Gardric stiffened. “Yes, Sire. However, more uprisings may require stiffer responses.”
“No, the next uprising will require dialogue. The one after that— well, we’ll let them out.”
“Sire?!”
“I’m tired of this mess, Gardric. The only reason they’re still there is because you continue to bring or send reports of violent or counter-productive activity on the part of the light Vle remaining outside. You may be having fun, but I’m not, and until you’re King— fat chance, as you know— you’ll just have to deal with my conscience just as I do.”
“Of course, Sire. Your command is my law.”
“Now, go get some sleep so you can be energetic for carrying out my commands tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Gardic bowed low, and left.
The King stared out the door for a few moments. Taréz gave him a few more before asking, “What’s on your mind?”
“Money.”
“Still no luck finding the funds for the camp?”
“No. Wait, maybe I can find them in the books!”
“Father, when was the last time you’ve even looked at the books?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever looked at them. But I remember being taught something about accounting back when I was young... younger than you, in fact. And just beginning my reign. They simply haven’t been necessary, because I’ve always had a chamberlain to do it for me. Now, the tables of figures are on the desk just outside these chambers. Somewhere in there must be an answer.” He heaved himself to his feet and went out to that desk, Taréz following with curiosity. The younger Vle had had the same accounting lessons much more recently, and had actually worked with the books, but he let his father have his moment.
It took some searching, but the King finally found the page that listed the various funds the Kingdom had and what they currently contained. There was one for emergencies, such as fires, tornadoes, or earthquakes; there was his own, and finally the building fund. That last had nothing in it.
“The emergency fund, Father?”
“Well, though it looks healthy enough to stop adding to it, I think would be best to leave it as it is.”
“That leaves your own funds.” The fund used for new coaches, new robes, new thrones, ball expenses, palace repair, gilding replacement... Would his father be able to give that up?
“No. There has to be something else somewhere, a stash long forgotten... Stecky!”
As always, the young Vle appeared as if by magic. “Yes, Sire?”
“Get the librarian. Ask him if there’s any record anywhere of a stash of gold or platin... or even cobilum! that hasn’t been touched in years, or accounted for.”
“Yes, Sire.” Stecky bowed, and dashed off.
“You know,” the King remarked, “he definitely would make a good chamberlain, if he’d ever grow up.” He turned back to the books. “Maybe there’s a trace of an out-pay that I’m not familiar with, to a fund that I don’t remember. You know, I wish I hadn’t been ruling for so long, so that there’d more likely be something my father had neglected to mention, something no one remembered...”
“Unless perhaps your father did have a personal fund separate from the normal personal palace fund.”
The King was in motion, tearing through each page twice, looking at every line pertaining to the King’s funds. “Nothing.”
“Not in that book, Father, that’s just for this year. You’d have to find the books for the very beginning of your reign.”
“Well, I did discover something.”
“What’s that?” Taréz was confused.
“The economy is slipping far worse than I had previously thought. Hmm... the librarian hasn’t come up yet. Shall we go look for him?”
Taréz just shrugged, so they went downstairs to the library. There, they found the old Vle poring over a large number of dusty tomes, scrolls and even laquered wooden tablets with marks that the King couldn’t begin to decipher. “Well?” inquired the elder.
Furns didn’t reply, didn’t even seem to be aware that the King was there. The King tried again. “Furns! Have you found anything?”
The old man was startled, enough that he dropped one of the tomes. “Sire! I didn’t see you there.”
“So I noted. Anything?”
“I have only found one possibility so far, Sire. It seems your great grandfather stockpiled some cupro in the sub-cellar. However, it doesn’t detail where, or how much. Worse, I’m afraid I’m almost finished with every record we still have.”
“Perhaps we’ll find something else when we search the cellars. Is there any record of the current contents of the rooms down there?”
“But, of course. Yis made sure an inventory was taken every year.”
“Really? Why? Is it used that often?”
“No. It is simply so that staff is less likely to think they can take something without it being noticed.”
“However, they can easily take it while they’re counting,” the King countered.
“This is true, except Yis had always made sure he’s down there counting with them.”
“Hmm. Let’s take a look.”
Furns took a large, old book from a shelf and opened it on the table. “Note here that your illustrious ancestor Lajot the 21st took roughly one third of all cupro taxes for his very own. That wasn’t long after cupro’s usefulness was discovered, and he hoped to earn lots of money by restricting the supply and selling his share when the supply was low. Unfortunately, he died only a few years later.”
“So, his stockpile is not likely to be large.”
“No, and recent advances in mining have made it more plentiful. It won’t be worth much.”
“Still, it’s something. What else is there?”
“Oh, an old coach, a few platin bars, some cobilum statues—”
“Ew,” said Taréz.
“Yes, they were put down there after the metal lost popularity. As I was saying, there’s also a stockpile of old weapons, some human iron armor, and some old furniture, but nothing of much value. May I inquire, Your Majesty, as to the reason for your interest?”
“This camp is bankrupting the nation, and it may mean giving up my own personal fund.”
“I see. Well, we could sell all of this, but I doubt it will do much for your reputation or image. Plus, buyers may well know how desperate you are.”
“You’re advising me to use my fund?”
“I cannot advise you in this, Sire. I am a mere librarian.”
“Thanks. Stecky!”
Once again, the young Vle appeared in moments. “Yes, Sire?”
“Organize a search party. I want to know how valuable our stockpile of cupro is.”
“Right away, Sire.”
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