Heather yawned. “You’re right. Guys. All this really is interesting, but I’m really beat. Maybe I’m still coming down from all the tension and excitement of getting here and starting to feel safe, but with that plus just stuffing myself and having more beer than I usually drink, I need to take a nap.”
“Of course,” said Yozef. “Let’s get both of you to where you’ll be staying. I’m sure Balwis will put on a good spread tonight. Actually, it will be his wife, Ceinwyn, doing all that. We may have a chance to talk more then, and there’ll be plenty of time in the days to come. Let me see if I can find someone to guide you.”
That someone was Storlini, who reappeared. Once they left, Yozef returned to the headquarters and used quill and paper on Balwis’s desk to write a semaphore message to Maera.
To: Maera Kolsko-Keelan
From: Paramount Yozef Kolsko
All good. Man and woman.
Both Amerikans.
Letter to follow.
The message was short but contained the essentials to assuage any worry she may have felt. Maera would share the news with Anarynd and Gwyned. Yozef folded the paper into quarters and carried it to the outer office to find someone to take it to the Preddi City semaphore station. He instructed that it was to be transmitted to Orosz City. He then returned to Balwis’s office, pulled another piece of blank paper from a stack on a shelf, and composed a letter. When finished, he mulled whether to send it by regular post, which would mean its getting to Maera in three or four days because mail via the developing train system was not yet regular. Or he could send it by courier. During the war with the Narthani, they had developed a mobile version of the Pony Express to speed communication among clan commanders and major units. It proved useful enough to be maintained after the Narthani left. Yozef hoped it and the semaphore would be gone soon as they worked out telegraph glitches. He remembered a friend telling him that while the Pony Express was firmly established in U.S. Western mythology, it had operated for only eighteen months before going broke and being superseded by the telegraph.
He decided. He would send the letter by rider. All the womenfolk would appreciate hearing more news as soon as possible. First, he would find Carnigan to encourage him to write his own letter to Gwyned, his wife. Yozef smiled. He expected Carnigan to say Yozef’s letter was sufficient. The big man’s terse speech was matched by his overlooking the need to pass on more information than minimally necessary. Yozef was to be surprised.
He found Carnigan in the outer office, sitting in an empty workspace and staring out the window. Yozef walked over and put a hand on a large shoulder. The attached head turned to face him.
“Carnigan, I’ve sent a semaphore message to Maera telling her everything is all right here. I’ve also written her a more detailed letter. Would you like to write something for Gwyned?”
A smile blossomed on the ruddy, red-bearded face. “I’ll write her a letter myself,” he pronounced. “Where’s some ink and paper?”
“I used some in Balwis’s office. I’m sure he won’t mind you doing the same.”
Yozef went to find a runner to take the letters to the semaphore station, which served a dual purpose with the Caedelli pony express. When he returned, he found Carnigan, hunched over a piece of paper, a tiny quill held in a big hand, the man’s tongue sticking out as he concentrated on writing.
Yozef smiled. Atta boy, Carnigan.
He turned to leave the author to his composition but stopped when Carnigan said, “You should send one to Anarynd, too.”
Yozef was puzzled. “Maera shares everything with Ana.”
“I know, but Anarynd might be worrying more right now than Maera. Gwyned once told me Anarynd wondered whether you would leave Caedellium if you ever found a way back home. As close as she is to Maera, there are things she shares only with Gwyned because they were both Narthani captives.”
Yozef knew he wasn’t going home. Mark and Heather both knew none of them were going home. It hadn’t occurred to Yozef that while he had repeatedly insisted he didn’t know the way back to Amerika, it wasn’t ruled out that Anarynd might think some other Amerikan would know the way. As far as he knew, he’d never said anything to anyone about going home if he knew the way—at least, not after the first year—but he couldn’t know how some innocent words might have been misinterpreted.
“You’re right,” said Yozef. “I’ll write a letter to Anarynd and rewrite the one to Maera just in case she’s also worried, even if she doesn’t show it or talk about it.”
When Mark entered their new quarters, there was silence. He started to call out but stopped himself and walked toward the sound of faint snoring. He found his family lying on a bed, both Maghen and Alys dressed in robes, their hair still wet. Alys was snuggled against her mother, one arm draped across Maghen’s torso. He stood looking for several minutes before searching for a washroom or a washing space outside.
The evening meal was as Yozef predicted, overflowing with food and drink. Senwina declined to come, saying her family was tired and just wanted some time alone. Thus, only the Kaldwels and Heather Chen were guided to Balwis’s villa. Already in attendance were Yozef and his two guards, Carnigan Puvey and Synton Ethlore; plus Wyfor Kales and his wife, Teena; Savronel Storlini and his wife, Mertra (another ex-Narthani); and, of course, Balwis and Ceinwyn Preddi.
As soon as the introductions were finished, the new arrivals were peppered with questions, mainly from wives. Yet Mark was certain Storlini and Kales were checking to see if the stories remain consistent. In contrast, Hetman Balwis Preddi was convivial. Mark lost count of how many steins of beer he’d consumed, but it was enough that Mark didn’t hesitate asking him for a favor.
Mark sat next to Yozef at the opposite end from Balwis. They no sooner had been seated than Yozef turned to Mark.
“I forgot to ask earlier, but what was the message you’re supposed to give me from some Buldorian leader?”
“It’s from a Buldorian named Mustafa Adalan. He carries the title of ‘Galmater’ and is a member of what I inferred is a ruling council. Well . . . I guess I’m not clear on exactly who they are, but they’re important. Anyway . . . this Adalan wants me to tell you that Buldor holds no animosity toward Caedellium and that the raids were what he referred to as ‘practical matters.’”
Mark smiled. “That’s almost a line right out of the Godfather movies. You know . . . nothing personal, just business. It seems this Adalan was the commander of the Caedellium raids, and their evident success is how he got on the Buldorian Council. That’s a tidbit of information from the Caedelli family that came with us.
“Adalan wants you to consider thinking of the Narthani as a common enemy. He claims to regret the raids and seems to want to mend some fences with Caedellium. He also dangled possible reparations for the raids.”
Yozef scratched his beard. “Well . . . we’ll see. Feelings run pretty high against Buldor. Any such rapprochement is likely far off, but who knows?”
The conversation moved on, and Mark waited for an opportunity for the clan leader not to be engaged. It occurred when Ceinwyn Preddi left her seat to check on their child, pulling Yozef along. Mark left his chair and sat in Ceinwyn’s chair.
“Hetman, we’ve just met, and where we’re staying is more than adequate, but I have a favor. It took us a year to get here, and we went through so much it’s still hard to believe we made it. Through no fault of her own, Maghen left her family and the only home she ever knew. She was amazing the whole time. I promised her that if we got to Caedellium, we would find a beautiful quiet place where she didn’t have to move for a month. I ask you to help me make this possible, even if it’s not as grand as where you have us staying.”
Balwis leaned back in his chair and laughed. “First of all, call me Balwis. Hetman is for formal occasions. Plus, after Yozef vouches so strongly for you, after hearing just part of the amazing tale of how you got here, and after having as much beer as the two of us have guzzled, I think we can be on a first-name basis.
“As for staying in someplace quieter and more beautiful than where we have you now, I don’t know if there is such a place. It was almost dark before you left the headquarters, but I believe in the morning you’ll see that where you’re staying fits your request. Ceinwyn and I picked this villa where we live for two reasons. One was because it’s great. It was built by a rich merchant. He and all his family disappeared during the Narthani occupation. No one knows if they were killed or shipped off as slaves. Either way, there was no one to claim ownership, so I took it for my own after a suggestion by Yozef that it was one of the perks of being hetman.
“The second reason we picked it is because of its location. The previous owner made sure there were no immediate neighbors, and stands of trees hide the area from the nearest other dwellings.”
Balwis held up a hand to forestall a question from Mark. “And if the owner was so interested in isolation, then why are there two villas next to each other? The one you’re in is smaller than ours and was built for the owner’s wife’s parents. I suspect he wanted to satisfy her without having them living in the same house.
“In the morning, if you walk out the back of the villa and listen carefully, you’ll hear surf, although this part of the Gulf of Witlow has low waves. Why I don’t know. If you’re curious, I suppose you could ask some of our scholastics or maybe Yozef—he sometimes seems to know almost everything. Then there are dunes that help muffle the sound further, but only a hundred yards from the villa is a beach that Ceinwyn loves to walk on.
“Anyway . . . look at it tomorrow, and if it doesn’t match your promise to your wife, let me know, and we’ll arrange something else. Of course, we don’t know what Yozef has in mind, but check with him when Ceinwyn is finished showing off our son. He’s named after Yozef.”
CHAPTER 5
HISTORIES
When the last satiated diners pushed their plates away, Yozef rapped the table with his knuckles to draw people’s attention.
“I believe everyone is satisfied. I’m going to assert privilege and pull Mark and Heather away from the rest of you. The evening is warm, and Balwis has offered the back veranda where the three of us can talk.”
Ceinwyn led the way for Yozef and Heather, while Mark accompanied his family to their villa. When he returned, the other two earthlings sat quiet, waiting. Mark settled into a wicker chair. Yozef distributed glasses and Mittack wine.
“We’ll have time later,” said Yozef, “but I’d like us to begin sharing our stories. You two may have already done that, but my curiosity is getting the best of me. Obviously, even a few hours apiece may not be enough, but let’s each hit the main points of what happened to us once we got dumped here.
“I’ll start off. I already told you why I was on the plane. A chemistry meeting in Chicago. I think I actually saw the alien spacecraft before it hit the plane. I was sitting beside a window, looking out at a dot that suddenly expanded to fill the window. The next thing I knew . . . ”
An hour passed before Yozef had finished. Mark had asked a few questions, but Heather restricted herself to utterances Yozef was not sure how to interpret.
“So . . . here I am, still not totally clear how it worked out. I started introducing new technology and ended up with everyone on Caedellium considering me the leader.”
When neither of the other two immediately commented, Yozef moved on. “Heather, why don’t you go next?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and took a healthy swallow from a wine glass she had nursed so far.
“My story won’t take near as long as yours, Joe. It started similarly. I was passing through Chicago on my way to Boston. You didn’t mention your time on the alien spacecraft. I’d be interested in us comparing stories later, but you want to know about our time on Anyar. Like you, I woke on a beach . . . ”
Mark knew some of her experience, but Yozef did not. Lanterns on veranda hooks illuminated a face that paled as she spoke. Neither man interrupted. Tears ran when she described her first months with Halari, but they dried and color returned after she recounted the rescue and her feelings when she stood on the Buldorian deck and watched Iskadon disappear. Her recital took less than twenty minutes.
“And here I am. Nothing so epic as you, Joe. I guess I’m still grappling with what happened. Part of me is afraid escaping was a long dream, and I’ll wake any moment.”
Yozef and Mark, independently, each reached out to pat small hands gripping the arms of her chair.
“You’re awake now,” said Mark.
“Mark’s right,” said Yozef. “Whatever happened in Sulako in the past is just that—in the past. You have a new life here on Caedellium. I can’t pretend any of us chose this life, but, speaking for myself, I’ve found a good life. Different and not of my choice but good. There’s no reason to think you can’t do the same.”
“And you have time,” said Mark, “to find out what that life will be. In the meantime, you’ll never be so alone again, not with me and Joe around.”
I hope that’s true, thought Mark. She’s had a rough time. Even more than Joe and me in some ways. It wasn’t only her treatment by Halari. She had still been a high school teenager living at home. Perhaps not quite a child anymore, but not a mature adult either.
“And I’ve got to ask,” said Heather, the words rushing out. “Do either of you think there’s any way to get back home?”
Mark and Yozef looked at each other—neither one surprised by the question.
“Sorry, Heather,” said Mark. “I’ve seen nothing that suggests how to look for a way back.”
“I’m afraid I agree,” said Yozef. “I haven’t traveled the world like Mark, but just by reasoning I don’t see a way to do it. Oh . . . I suppose the aliens could change their minds and scoop us back up, but why bother? That’s assuming what little they told us is true. I suppose I prayed the first months. You know . . . just in case there is a God or the aliens heard me and took pity. Obviously, no such luck.”
“Well, I had to ask. And I like hearing you prayed. I did, too. But by the end of the first year I stopped. Anyway, that’s my story.”
“I suppose it’s my turn,” said Mark. “Like the two of you, my first Anyar experience was waking on a beach.”
He continued for as long as Yozef, not leaving out aspects of guilt he knew he would always feel. By the time he finished, two bottles of wine were empty, and Heather was nodding off.
“I think we need to let Heather rest,” Yozef said to Mark. “Let me fetch someone to see her safely to Maghen. I’ll tell the escort to let Maghen know you’ll be along in a while.”
Once the two men were alone again, Yozef asked, “When you decided to try and reach Caedellium and spent all those months getting here, what did you expect to do when you got here?”
“At first, I just wanted to get away from the people who were after me and to keep my family safe. Believe me, I would have stayed if I had thought there was a chance they wouldn’t keep after me and my family. I had no idea why I was a target of the Narthani, but with the combination of the guilds knowing where I was and what I’d heard about the Narthani, I didn’t see any choice. As for any expectations if we did get here, I didn’t really have any. I confess I didn’t have much confidence. It was simply the best of bad options. I didn’t tell that to Maghen. It was hard enough for her even when she thought we had an achievable objective.
“After I screwed things up so badly in northern Frangel and got people killed, I only looked for a place to be safe and live the rest of my life. When I settled in central Frangel and met Maghen, I thought I had my life pretty much laid out. We saved to buy land of our own to start a ranch and raise children. It wasn’t the life I fantasized about when I first got to Anyar, but it was one I think I was satisfied with.
“I don’t remember exactly when I started seriously thinking what would happen if we reached Caedellium. Yet I do recall Maghen first asking me that question, though I don’t remember where it was. I told he
r we would make do with whatever we found—maybe start over with the same idea of one day having our own ranch. I figured I could always find ranch work, and Maghen is a hard worker. We would make do.”
Yozef smiled. “Well, I can guarantee you and your family will do better than ‘make do.’ You know things that I don’t. I wouldn’t try and guess how many times I’ve wished to have an engineer from Earth. Any kind of engineer.
“What I know of chemistry is important, but in a way, it would have been better if I’d been a chemical engineer. There’s a difference. I know a lot about advanced chemistry, but it’s knowledge that doesn’t always translate out to the world. A chemical engineer would know more about the industrial side of chemistry.”
Yozef gave a rueful smile. “Although I become a chemical engineer out of necessity. A true chemical industry is built on a few simple feedstocks and will require large-scale production of strong acids, strong bases, oxidants, reductants, and nitrates. Add to that control of high temperatures, development of the necessary apparatuses, machinery, and power to run the production. I suspect I could work through many possible innovations, but I don’t have the technical background. Just the telegraph and steam engines are examples. I did what I could with those two projects, but I want you to take those over and maybe contribute to whatever else is necessary.”
Mark frowned. “I think I’ll be happier with the ranch plan. My previous experience in innovations didn’t turn out too well for too many people. I don’t want to make those same mistakes again.”
“We all make mistakes,” said Yozef. “You believe you focused too much on yourself and your grandiose plans for innovations, wealth, and prestige. I can’t make a judgment about what happened—I wasn’t there. Only you can do that. All I can say is that I don’t sense you intentionally put people in danger. At worst, you had a goal and didn’t fully weigh the consequences. Hardly a unique sin.
A Dubious Peace Page 7
