“He wants nothing, hero, but what he has always wanted—peace throughout our land. Believe me. That I came at such an unfortunate time...”
Agartes snorted. “Unfortunate? You have a funny way of expressing yourself.”
“I apologize.”
“Ka-eng, I don’t have time for this. I need to find my sword and sharpen it. I have an arrogant Dageian king to kill and no reason to hold back any longer. If I am alive by the end of this war, come to me. Maybe I’ll have time to entertain you then.”
“Goche tells me that if you cannot control yourself, and your strength in the agan, you can wreak havoc through the land. You speak of winning. If that happens, then good. But you have seen Dageian handiwork in your own household. Their arts cannot be met by sword alone and we do not want their presence in the Kag anymore than you do.”
“Piss on that.”
“Ajy...”
Nobody else knew the name his mother gave him and he had not heard it in years. He looked up with a start.
“This agan...” he began, his mind turning. Reaching. He tried to remember what his mother’s hair smelled like, realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t even remember her face. He could still hear the laughter in the courtyard, could still remember the timbre in Aldeti’s viol and the way the candles flickered each time he kissed them good-night. One never forgets the taste of water or the smell of air. But water and air is...only water and air. He could remember the feel of his infant child in his arms twelve years ago, but could he hold on to everything for the rest of his life? They were all irrevocably behind him, now.
The ka-eng’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Come with me. Come back to Cael. We will talk. You do not have to do anything but that.”
“I saw Vayna because I possess this connection to the agan?”
“Possibly.”
He clenched his teeth. “I’m too old for this,” he said.
“Agartes Allaicras...”
“That name. Yes, yes,” he murmured, getting up. His knees shook a little, but he tried to ignore that. “I’ll go with you. I’ll listen to what Goche has to say this time. Just don’t let him get in the way of me sticking a knife between Olfren’s ribs. Don’t even dare mention otherwise.”
Here, at this point, the texts go their separate ways. Ranochi wrote a highly controversial play that has Agartes marrying the ka-eng and living a new life with her people. The most popular version, written by Cavalli in ballad form, tells of Agartes returning from Cael to defeat Olfren before retiring to the mountains. He has avenged his family, he would say, and so will live his few short years in peace before seeing them again in the after world. End story.
Except of course Cavalli was not native and did not know that in those days, the Kags did not believe in the after world. His ballad made it a highly debatable subject in the following centuries, but in those days, the Kags knew without a shadow of a doubt that Yohak returns souls. That everything from the past is forgotten; all memories, all hopes, all dreams, all loves, in place of a new life. There are no reunions, only eternal good-byes. And Agartes Allaicras, blessed defender of the Kag, was also known as the champion of Yohak. He never doubted those beliefs.
The true story, as always, is in the details.
ACT ONE
“Life is a symphony of events initiated by a simple thing. An acorn falls and becomes a tree. A stone in the water makes it ripple. Dageis was both acorn and stone in my story, and I knew the moment they first came to our shores. I still wake up thinking I was back in that moment, telling myself it can't be true.”
-Sechuu the Younger, Journal of a Shi-uin
To Isalus ark-Oslar,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for the incident that occurred at Lon Basden. We will reimburse the funds immediately.
We have also sent replacements who will carry out your tasks in their stead.
We hope that this incident doesn't deter you from using the Boarshind's services in the future.
Sincerely,
Baeddan Siromer
-letter found in an old shop in Lon Basden, the Orasmus Peninsula
Algat,
Refrain from allowing this Oji alon gar Kaggawa to work with clients of importance. After the stunt he pulled at Lon Basden, I don't know how seriously we can trust him. This poor work ethic is not something we should be encouraging with these men.
Baeddan
-a letter found in an office in the Boarshind
Chapter One
All Kefier knew of stories came tinged with the memory of his mother’s smooth, unbroken voice. A shame, he had been told more often than once. Books, his brother would tell him, were better. Books contained stories their mother’s imagination could never touch: stories of heroes larger than life, who toppled down beasts the size of houses and whole cities and regimes. There was no snapping Enosh out of his daydreams whenever the topic came up. Was it just the talk of heroes that did that to him? He had wanted to tell Enosh, more often than not, that he wasn’t one.
Kefier certainly wasn’t. He didn’t long for the sort of stories his brother did. He just missed his mother’s voice.
“That’s a very long explanation from someone who didn’t look like he cracked open the damn thing,” the shopkeeper told him, peering over his frosted glasses with a glare. “I’m still charging you for the full week.”
“I tried to read it,” Kefier said, tapping the leather-bound tome with what he hoped sounded like a resigned sigh.
“And?”
“I told you—”
“Three days,” the shopkeeper said.
“I had it a day!”
“I’m not running a charity here.”
Grumbling, Kefier reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver coin.
The old man picked it up, blew on it, before tucking it out of sight. “Don’t feel too bad,” he said as he returned the book to the small shelf at the back of his shop. “You’re a mercenary. I don’t usually get the bulk of my business from you lot.”
“Oji reads,” Kefier blurted out.
“That he does,” the old man said. He blinked. “Oji, eh? The Jin! Well, perhaps one mercenary, then. I hear he’s leaving Cairntown, going back home! Finally gotten sick of this old place. Not a moment too soon, eh? If the piss-filled water doesn’t get you, the whorehouse crabs will.”
“He’s probably read your entire shelf,” Kefier said, trying to change the conversation.
The old man smiled. “That’s not much of an accomplishment. There’s not a lot on there.”
Perhaps that was true, but thinking about all those books and the words one after another made Kefier ill. Bad enough that they blurred on the page when he looked at them—now they were blurring in his head. “Well, thank you, anyway,” Kefier said. “Maybe I’ll be back.”
“It’s a big world,” the old man suggested. “More than books can ever contain.” It was touching how he was still trying to make him feel better. Kefier didn’t think he needed to. It wasn’t his failure to read the book—borrowed hastily the night before, when he snuck out of the inn under the pretense of running an errand—that bothered him. He had failed to read books all his life, as his brother Enosh would have eagerly pointed out.
No. His biggest anxiety stood at the end of the road, waving at him with a grin that looked plastered on. Oji—friend, benefactor, protector, or whatever the hell the men called him. Oji, who had saved him from a fate worse than death seven years ago, and whom he needed to learn to live without soon. It shouldn’t have to be this hard. He wasn’t a boy anymore.
“Oji,” Kefier greeted.
Oji glanced at him. “You looked like you came from the booklender’s shop.”
“I passed by,” Kefier said, glancing away. “I thought they had pictures of naked ladies.”
“If you want to read anything, you know I’ve got a tab,” Oji helpfully piped up. “We might as well use it up before we leave town for good.”
Kefier shrugged. “Not in
terested.”
“I told you, Kef. All you have to do is practice. If you can read signs, you can read anything. Look, once we have the time, I can help you out again. I know you—”
“I don’t really want to talk about it, Oji.”
Oji gave a small chuckle, the sort that told Kefier he didn’t really take him seriously. He never did. That never used to bother him, either. Funny how the last few days had turned everything awry. One moment he thought of himself as nothing more than Oji’s right-hand man and the next…they were making plans to return to Oji’s homeland of Jin-Sayeng. Well—Oji was, fully convinced he was speaking for the both of them. Kefier hadn’t tried to correct him.
“What will you the miss most about Cairntown?” Oji asked as they took the road leading out of town.
“I don’t know,” Kefier answered truthfully.
“Come on. Lisa, I suppose.”
He scratched the back of his ear, wondering if he could work up the courage to tell Oji what was really on his mind. Oji. Good luck, but we have to part ways. It felt like a rotten thing to tell someone who had given you nothing but kindness the past few years—a rotten way to dismiss someone who had saved your life.
He pushed the thought away and focused on not stumbling on the road.
Kefier had seen Oji look like he wanted to rip off Algat’s head before, but this was the first time he saw him try. He lunged and ended up tackling his friend to the floor.
“This is ridiculous!” Oji’s cheeks and ears were turning a bright red. On most occasions, Kefier would have laughed, but the news had caught him equally off-guard. He had expected to be packing Oji’s things and listen to him waving goodbye to the stuffed boar’s head in the main hall by now.
“You signed a contract,” Algat grumbled, leaning on his desk with his elbows. He spat out the chunk of sugar cane he had been chewing on and reached under his desk to pull out a collection of parchments. “This is our standard contract agreement for all new workers on board. If you can’t read, I’ll happily do it for you. Upon termination or resignation, a worker is entitled to the balance on his pay only after the completion of one last assignment, to be given at the Boarshind’s discretion. You would have signed at this part, right here.” He jabbed at the parchment with his finger and bit off another piece of sugar cane. “In blood, I might add. In the Kag, matters like this are taken very seriously.”
“The Kag? We’re in the middle of a garbage heap, you prick. You really think this is the Kag?” Oji dragged Kefier all the way to the edge of the desk before slamming his fists on the surface. “I want to go home. Home. Do you understand? Or maybe you wouldn’t know, not having a real home to go to. You stupid ass! My sister’s waiting for me. I have a wife I haven’t seen in seven years, flies rot your soul.”
“You’ll see them again once you’ve delivered that package,” Algat replied. “And I might add, Odi—”
“Oji,” he hissed.
Algat’s eyebrows crinkled. “Right. Your grasp of our language has improved over the last few years. Which whore was responsible for that? Was it Lisa, over at Comfrey’s?”
Oji’s face tightened. “This isn’t over.”
“It could be. I dare you to walk out of here, Kaggawa. You’ve been here seven years. Surely you have some coin to spare?”
“Let’s go, Oji,” Kefier whispered. “He’s just trying to make you angry.”
“Maybe I want him to. Give me a reason to stick a sword up his backside.” Oji snorted. “How do you want that, Algat? Seven years—no wonder I don’t want to stay a day later!”
“Have it your way,” Algat said. He threw the sugar cane behind him and pulled out a sword about five fingers wide. The smile on his face—the one he’d been carrying since Oji started raising his voice—was gone. He pointed at Kefier. “I won’t hesitate to cut you down either, short nose. Get out of the way.”
“He’s just mad. Let him be, Algat, please,” Kefier said. He turned to Oji. “Calm down. You won’t be able to get back to your wife like this.”
“If she still wants a penniless whoremonger,” Algat sneered.
Oji pulled out his own sword. He stared at Algat, but instead of rushing forward, his arms suddenly dropped to his side. He looked worn out, like a man who had just lost a battle before the first blow was even struck. “I’m not going to bother,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here, Kef, before I do something I regret.” He patted Kefier’s head and strode out of the room.
“Don’t forget your package.” Algat returned to his desk.
Kefier picked up the box and heard parchment and coin rustle inside. He started to say something.
Algat rubbed his ears. “What’s that? You’re talking to me?”
“Yes.”
The grin returned to Algat’s face. Kefier tucked the package under his arm and approached the desk. “Maybe you could let him go.” His eyes darted to the window for a moment. “I’ll do this job and the next couple for free if you do that.”
“I’m sorry, am I hearing you right? You’re not going with him?”
Kefier hesitated. He had never spoken like this to Algat before, but it was too late to back out now. “I’ll work here longer if that’s what it takes.” He took a deep breath. “He really wants to see his family. He got a letter from his sister a few weeks ago. His wife’s ill. Nothing serious, but he’s realized he’s had enough of this life.”
“And what about you, short nose? Do you think the same way?”
He sounded genuinely curious, which was unlike him. That made Kefier hesitate. He shrugged. “I was thinking to just go with him a bit. Help him get settled. But what would I do there? I wouldn’t know anyone. I’d be bored off my ass. I don’t know. I just want to do right by my friend.”
“You always do, don’t you?” Algat smirked. Kefier waited for him to explain what he meant, but Algat returned to his business-like drawl. “That’s all well and good, short nose, but I suppose you’re not aware that you don’t have a contract of your own? You’re here under Kaggawa’s name. If he leaves, your work with us is finished.”
Kefier opened his mouth. Algat sighed. “You’re pathetic. You didn’t know? How old are you again?”
Somehow, he found his voice. “It’s my nineteenth year.”
“Already! I could’ve sworn you were much younger than that the last time I checked.”
“What do you mean I don’t get a contract of my own? You’ve been paying me for years!”
“You’ve been here about as long as Kaggawa, if I’m not mistaken. A little bit less. Only a boy. I don’t blame you for not knowing, but we can’t give contracts out to escapees.” Algat scratched his chin. “We’ve got standards, kid. We wouldn’t get Dageian clients otherwise. Consider yourself Kaggawa’s hire. If we’re done with him, we’re done with you.”
Kefier felt the heat rush into his face. Up until that moment, Oji’s decision had been a joke—something to talk about on a nice summer evening years from now when they speak of good ole’ Oji. He tried to read into what Algat wasn’t saying, but he didn’t know the man well enough. He ended up standing there, blinking at the light and feeling stupid.
Algat leaned forward. “If you want to hear my advice, then here it is: finish this job. What’s another? Finish it, get your pay, and follow your friend home. Jin-Sayeng folk don’t take kindly to strangers, but I’ve heard you speaking the language with him. In my unschooled opinion, you sound almost native. You should fit in there about as well as you fit in here.”
“But if I want to stay...” he started.
“Maybe if someone else wants to sign you in under their name. Try asking them, but I doubt it. Hard enough to let them overlook the fact when we started paying you.” He propped his feet up on the table. “Look, lad, I don’t mind you underfoot. You don’t talk very much or cause trouble, which is a lot more than I can say for some of these Agartes-forsaken monkeys. If you can figure out a way for us to keep you without a lot of hassle, you have my b
lessings. Now, if you’ll leave me to my afternoon snack?”
Oji was outside with Rokarsh when he stepped out in the hall. From the look on Rok’s face, the big man was equally infuriated, but hardly surprised. “You remember what Algat did to poor Shange? Last job, sent him out to work for a month on those mines. You know the ones belonging to Yn Garr, down south? Whole operation collapsed over his head and he never got to come home after that. At least you just get to do a simple enough delivery.” Rok glanced at Kefier by the shadows and waved to him with a meaty arm. “Come and join us, pup.”
“Kefier will be fine,” Oji said, rolling his eyes. “He likes the mountains. It’ll take us a day or so at least. Would you take this job if it was on the list?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rok murmured, rubbing his barrel-sized belly. “I don’t do well on travel rations.” He glanced at Kefier. “You don’t look half as skinny these days as you used to, pup. You looking forward to this?”
Kefier didn’t reply. He was still thinking about Algat’s words and wondered if Rok would be willing to sign those papers for him. He had always been a straight fellow, Rok. Foul-mouthed, but equally kind-hearted. He decided to put the thought in the back of his mind and followed the men out into the courtyard. He stopped by the gates, his eyes tracing the cobblestone and the jagged iron fence. The hot breeze pressed against his smooth cheek. The memory of the first time he had walked up this path returned to him. He had been beside Oji then, too, and he suddenly realized that he had actually never gone up here alone. He glanced at his dimple-faced friend and felt repulsed by his presence—he suddenly wanted, more than anything else, to do something on his own. To start and finish a job by himself, like the other men did.
“I’ll take care of the supplies, Oji,” he said out loud. Oji and Rok stopped and stared at him. He tried to smile. “I haven’t used up my credit at the store yet. We’ll need supplies for tomorrow.” He nodded for Oji. “I’ll meet you at Blue-dog’s.”
An Elegy of Heroes Page 2
