A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  Anarynd turned to Yozef. “You don’t think this is a good idea, do you?”

  He took another sip of the Mittack wine before answering, not wanting to take sides. “I admit I’d prefer Maera not go, but I suspect she’s thinking it will be a full year before she can travel again.”

  Maera rose from her chair, leaned over, kissed Yozef on the cheek, and sat again in her chair. “Thank you, dear. That’s just what I’m thinking. By the time we get back, it won’t be long before my condition prevents any significant travel, and then there’s the recovery and breast-feeding for the first five or six months. This is a chance to do something before that and visit Seaborn, the only clan I haven’t traveled to. Sissel only has a few contacts there in her women’s network, but this would be my chance to meet them and possibly add a few more members. They also have a library at the cathedral in Brudermyn. Sistian once told me they are supposed to have some of the oldest manuscripts on Caedellium. While you’re at some boring meetings or events that I don’t need to attend, I can take that time to assess exactly what they have. If the manuscripts seem important enough, we could arrange to have them copied for the main library here in Orosz City.”

  Anarynd looked back and forth between her two marriage partners. “I see this is one of those times when I’m outnumbered.”

  Maera reached across the table to hold Anarynd’s hand. “I honestly don’t think there’s any danger. Otherwise, I wouldn’t propose traveling. I also think you’ll be all right here. Your own pregnancy has been easy, and you have plenty of help. There. It’s settled. I won’t continue with Yozef after Seaborn but will return here. You know me well enough, Ana. Do you honestly think I would take risks?”

  “I know, I know. I just worry about you and the baby. I sometimes think the two of you don’t worry enough about things.” Anarynd laughed. “Of course, I’ll admit I may worry too much. Maybe it’s the phase of pregnancy I’m in.”

  “How about this, Ana?” said Maera. “We’re having the Seaborn party here for the evening meal tomorrow night. Both you and I can meet them, talk with them, and see if we’re confident about my visiting the province. We’ll also insist that Yozef take his regular bodyguards, plus some dragoons. You know . . . just in case. Even that is probably excessive because what’s going to happen in a place as remote as Seaborn?”

  The next evening, the Seaborn party arrived at Kolsko Manor and was met with what Yozef called a “mixer,” where people mingled, having a chance to chat at least briefly with all attendees before the meal. Reezo and Zalzar appeared ill at ease at first, then slowly relaxed during the next hour.

  Yozef had told Reezo that his two “guards” were also invited. The Seaborn son didn’t comment on the status of those two companions, eliciting a groan from Zalzar and a smile exchanged with Yozef. Nevertheless, Reezo demurred, saying the two guards were being entertained by Toowin Kales at the Orosz City Snarling Graeko franchise.

  Tomis Orosz brought his wife, along with a son and a daughter, both around Reezo Seaborn’s age. Helping was Shurla Aston, who seemed to have captivated Reezo Seaborn within moments of their meeting. Abbot Parwyn of St. Wyan’s cathedral was accompanied by his wife and another teenage child. A dozen other people and spouses rounded out the gathering.

  Carnigan and Synton insisted on being present, promising to look inconspicuous. Yozef choked off a laugh upon hearing the declaration.

  The evening’s meal came off well. Maera sat next to Reezo and grilled him, charmingly, on Seaborn, a topic the hetman’s son was relieved to talk about.

  “I think he was eager to discuss a comfortable topic,” said Maera after the last guest had left. “At his age and never having been off Seaborn, I think all this was a bit overwhelming.”

  “What? Meeting the Paramount?” Yozef initially teased. He then assumed a more thoughtful expression. “But yes, I agree about meeting the Paramount, not necessarily me. Plus, there’s everything else. Penmawr might have been the biggest city he’s ever seen, and Orosz City is still bigger.”

  “Well . . . I think he’s very nice,” said Anarynd. “I just wonder why his father sent him as the emissary. I would have thought it would be the heir. You know . . . the oldest brother. What’s his name?”

  “Santee,” answered Maera. “That’s what Shurla found in the records. There’s another brother and four sisters. One other thing I got out of him was about those two natural wonders he gushed about. They do sound like something amazing. Even better, he assures us that there are roads wagons can use. I won’t have to ride horseback if I come along. Yozef, I don’t think there’s a danger with my riding a horse. I checked with Sister Twylin at St. Wyan’s. She thought there was little chance of harm to the baby, but why take a chance? I didn’t say anything further to Reezo, but I’ll let you press him tomorrow about whether the roads are really good enough and for which kind of wagons or carriages?”

  CHAPTER 29

  PENMAWR

  Orosz City to Penmawr

  “God’s Mercy!” exclaimed Maera.

  Yozef was half dozing on the train carriage bench next to his wife. The leaf spring modifications brought by Mark Caldwell smoothed out the worst jolts on wagons and horse-drawn train carriages, but she found that the swaying motion and residual smaller jolts were inimical to deep sleep.

  “What?” he muttered, rousing from a state between sleep and full consciousness.

  Maera was gazing out the open carriage window. “I assume that’s Penmawr ahead of us. I can make out buildings up against the sea, but it looks like a huge fire south of the city.”

  She moved to the opposite bench and turned sideways to continue looking out while Yozef took her place. Both stared at two pillars of smoke rising hundreds of feet into the air and flowing out over the water.

  “Oh . . . that’s not a fire . . . at least, not one out of control. It’s the ironworks near Penmawr. The prevailing winds here are east to west. That’s why the complex was built on a peninsula that juts out farther west than the city. Hopefully, our planning is correct that the smoke won’t drift over Penmawr on many days of the year. The city also sits well away from significant hills and mountains, which will keep any smoke from collecting and lingering.”

  He didn’t mention his hope that the smoke would mainly bypass Seaborn Province to the west. Supposedly, the prevailing winds would take the smoke just south of the islands. To the north, smoke from the Swavebroke plants would go well north of the islands.

  “Good,” said Maera. “It took time for Diera and the other leading medicants to study your claims of the health hazards of smoke.” She laughed. “I remember Hetmen Vandinke being apoplectic when you mandated that the new crushing mills had to be moved from where he had started building them.”

  “Yes, it would have been less hassle to just have the iron ore from Vandinke Province shipped directly west, but it’s important to spread the industrial development among the provinces as much as possible. Vandinke doesn’t have the biggest iron deposits, but eventually, we want to tap the copper, zinc, and lead veins in the central and northern parts of the province. If we don’t start paying attention to environmental effects right from the start, it’ll just make things harder later on. They started building the crushing mills too close to their capital. However, I give Eldor Vankinke credit for taking initiative to want to start getting ready even though the rail line into Vandinke is a year away.”

  The train entered a curve into a stand of trees, losing the distant view of Penmawr. They were three days from Orosz City. From Orosz City, their three-carriage train had left at midmorning for the fifty-mile leg to arrive just before dark at Cherona, capital of Bultecki Province. The slow pace was caused by the three-thousand-foot elevation rise between the two cities.

  The pace was faster the second day as they descended into Stent Province and changed horse teams less often than on the way to Cherona. In the flatter land of central Stent, they passed ranches and farms before spending the second evening as gue
sts of Hetman Welman Stent. The next morning, they left at first light to be sure of arriving in Penmawr before darkness.

  “Yozef, I’ll admit I’m fascinated about seeing these iron and steel mills. Oh, I see the diagrams and listen to you and Mark explain most of it, but it also sounds more than a little intimidating. Tons of molten metal? And the heat? It must be terrible.”

  “It’s definitely not somewhere I would want to work,” said Yozef, “but we’ve tried to ameliorate the worst of it as much as possible through the design of the plants. We’re also trying to cross-train workers so that one man doesn’t spend all of his time under the worst conditions. It’s why the pay is high.

  “One advantage of the mills’ site is that two large year-round streams provide power needed for the bellows and other equipment. Otherwise, what we’re doing would be much more difficult. Of course, that will all change once we have steam engines.”

  Over the next hour, they had intermittent views of Penmawr and the smoke as they drew nearer. When they were a mile and a half from the center of Penmawr, they identified the twin spires of the St. Iklos Cathedral. Then they passed stakes and twine laying out streets and crews of men and a few women building structures, some at the stage of being foundations and others more complete.

  “I understand the reasoning, Yozef, but these neighborhoods being built to house new workers look strange to me . . . so different from anywhere else on Anyar. I’m glad I insisted they leave as many trees as possible. They will make the area seem less . . . cold, I guess is the word I would use. Otherwise, the families would have difficulty feeling comfortable with all the houses looking similar.”

  “I agree it’s a problem, but I hope not too much of one. We’re also using your and Heather’s ideas about not making every structure the same. There is a mixture of single-family houses, what we call duplexes, and a few second-story structures of four or six residences. That, along with different-colored paint and slightly different outer features, will help about as much as I think we can right now.

  “As the industrial plants come online, the population will increase fast. There has to be both readily available and appealing housing. It will also let us better distribute people if we start bringing in workers from off Caedellium. We don’t want enclaves of Iraquiniks or Landoliners to cluster together too much and not integrate the way we hope.”

  “Here comes an escort,” a deep voice called out from the carriage driver’s box. Carnigan eschewed riding inside as much as possible. He, Synton, Toowin, and Gowlin took turns driving the horse teams during the train trip from Orosz City to Penmawr.

  “They must’ve had lookouts and updates via telegraph,” suggested another voice, Synton’s. “Looks like a platoon. They’re dressed very pretty and are flying both Paramount and Pewitt banners.”

  “Might be the dragoons to accompany us to Seaborn,” said Yozef in a loud-enough voice to be heard atop the carriage.

  “Tonight will be to refresh and be hosted by Hetman Pewitt,” he told Maera. “If we stick to the schedule, I’ll have a full day of meetings tomorrow with boyermen and other leading citizens. I’ll settle on the exact schedule with Hetman Pewitt tonight. We’ll try and put all the meetings it would be useful for you to attend first thing in the morning. That way, you can have the rest of the day to visit the main cathedral complex, as you wanted. Then, the next day will be the industrial complex before we sail to Seaborn the following day.”

  Yozef had wanted to indulge himself by naming the ironworks in Pewitt Pittsburg, but before he made his wish known, Mark and the Pewitt crews had already used Wungford.

  Two Hundred Miles Southwest of Seaborn

  Orno Kistek pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Despite the normally mild weather that far southwest of Seaborn Province, an unseasonal cold front had roared through. It had dumped prodigious amounts of rain, dropped the temperature dramatically, and threatened to scatter the squadron of twenty Kolinkan ships. Now, several hours after the front had passed, the ships had regathered in their block formation, sea anchors helping to hold their position, with only an occasional need for ships to adjust.

  “Don’t worry, half an hour from now, you’ll be throwing off that cloak. At least, it provided something different from our last two trips here.”

  Kistek turned to face Isot Yuguz, the Deathknell’s captain.

  “What do you think, Captain Yuguz? Are you willing to gamble that this time is for real?”

  “I’m not much of a gambler unless it’s a sure thing.”

  “But then it’s not a gamble, is it?”

  The Kolinkan captain shrugged and shouted something to a crewman aloft before turning back to Kistek.

  “Speaking of a gamble, I heard things when we were back in Onunza. Evidently, not everyone believes this is a good idea.”

  Kistek didn’t respond immediately. Such thoughts were not always received kindly back home. Still, he and Yuguz had spent enough time together the last few months to develop an understanding. They knew what could be spoken between the two of them but not to anyone else, including the crew and the officers of all the ships and the fighting men under Kistek’s command.

  “Whether or not it has been decided is well above either of our positions. Although I will admit it’s a gamble—with a great reward if we’re successful and unknown consequences if we fail.”

  “We had better not fail,” said Yuguz. “I’m not privy to what reward for success our illustrious leaders might give us, but I hope it’s something that will impress even me.”

  Kistek didn’t respond—not that he thought the captain expected an answer. He knew more about what had led them to the location where they waited, though not all the details. Even granted that they were given what had been promised, he didn’t know whether he would have made the commitment to attempt their assignment. A great reward should be balanced with greater risk. Kistek did not consider himself a timid man or one overly conservative, but he wondered now, as he had many times, what he would have chosen to do if he actually had a choice.

  “Well . . . the decision was made,” said Yuguz. “If we’re going to do this, I hope it’s this time. So far, we’ve lucked out that the Fuomi patrols haven’t stumbled on us. Yes, yes . . . I know we’re supposed to be out of their normal pattern of about a hundred miles from land. But changeable winds or the vagaries of a Fuomi captain mean that limit is not dependable. According to my instructions, if we don’t get the go-ahead in the next three sixdays, we’re to abort and return to Kolinka.”

  Kolinkan Ship Sunrider

  Frenko Holuska leaned on the port railing. Occasional spray washed over him as the prow hit larger waves. The Sunrider had left Penmawr within hours of Paramount Kolsko’s arrival. The ship carried no passengers, and the cargo holds were almost empty. Both were irrelevant. Events would make neither the Sunrider or any other Kolinkan ship welcome in Caedellium.

  Twice before, plans were initiated by alerts from Holuska’s contact in Orosz City—both times to be canceled. There was a limited time the assets could remain in place. Holuska suspected this was the last chance for success before the mission was canceled.

  The timing was critical. He needed to rendezvous southwest of the Seaborn islands and then reverse to Brudermyn before Kolsko’s party arrived. Suspicions might be raised if the Sunrider was not moored at Brudermyn, even though it had left Penmawr before Kolsko for the hundred-mile sail.

  Wungford, Pewitt Province

  “I feel like I’m looking at the gate to hell,” said Maera. She held a hand in front of her forehead to fend off some of the heat and light from the inferno thirty yards away.

  “We should back away a bit farther now,” said Ilkar Bomer, the complex director. “The men are about to transfer some of the product into a ladle.”

  The referenced receptacle was moving into position, supported by iron scaffolding.

  Maera was happy to move farther away, although when Bomer stopped after fifty yards, she couldn�
��t help but wish he had gone a little farther.

  Bomer pointed to the ladle now in position at the furnace. “What you see is brittle iron being turned into cast iron. Then the contents are channeled to molds or rollers, depending on the planned use. At least, that’s the idea. Right now, the current furnace and structures produce smaller batches than we eventually plan. Nearby is the site where we’re further refining the cast iron. It’s also in the test phase before we move to larger batches.

  “The first step for all end uses is to convert the ore into brittle iron that’s poured into molds to solidify. That form is only used for further conversions, whether usable iron or steel. So far, all the brittle iron is made here. Some we use, the rest goes to Elmor.”

  Mark had needed names for the different forms of iron. Caedelli had words for iron and steel, but pig iron needed a new word—brittle iron was settled on. Cast iron worked and wrought iron became low-carbon steel. Similarly, the Bessemer converters in Shullick became steel converters or simply converters.

  “All right,” said Maera, “let’s see if I understand correctly. You put the crushed iron ore from the east into the blast furnace, along with coke and chalk. The coke is made by heating coal in the absence of air, forcing out impurities as gases. The three-component mixture is heated to release iron from the ore. The cast iron is the first usable product. If you want higher-grade iron or steel, air is forced in to drive off impurities. That needs to be removed to form what you consider either low-carbon or poor-quality steel. And the higher-quality steel is made in Swavebroke.”

  “Correct, Sen Kolsko,” said Bomer, pointing to a waterwheel-operated bellows using a portion of a diverted stream. “We’ve experimented with making low-carbon steel here at Wungford, but mostly we stick to cast iron and producing the brittle iron that goes to Elmor for higher-quality steel. By forcing air into the furnace, this keeps the temperature high inside and burns off impurities. Adding chalk also helps speed the process tremendously and will let us work on far larger batches.” Bomer grinned, exposing several missing teeth. “That’s what Kaldwel and Yozef say, anyway.”