Anarynd had experienced more problems during the pregnancy than with Odysius and Xena, but the birth was as easy or better. An hour after the birth, a radiant Anarynd leaned against pillows as she held Luna and let Yozef feed her a thick soup. All the other Kolsko and Puvey children were present, trying to see the new arrival. They stood by the bed or sat or lay on any available space. Some were held in adults’ arms if they were not old enough to be curious. Maera stood next to the bed, with fleeting expressions wafting over her face. Anarynd caught a transition from delight to melancholy.
“Here, Maera. Hold Luna for me while I eat.”
Maera hesitated, then took the child slowly and almost reluctantly from Anarynd. An appropriately small, soft blanket covered the wizened face. Maera pulled away the edges just as the baby’s eyes opened briefly and seemed to stare at whoever held her. Maera’s face melted, softened, and moistened.
“How come she’s so wrinkly?” asked Dwyna.
“It’s because she got squeezed when they put her inside Mama Ana,” said Morwena.
Dwyna and Aeneas both nodded, satisfied with the explanation.
The second new arrival to Orosz City was Thala Seaborn, daughter of Hetman Yulan Seaborn and twin sister of Reezo, killed while holding back the Kolinkans. Her appearance was a surprise only by being unannounced. Maera had predicted Thala was too independent-minded to accede to her father’s image of a hetman’s daughter.
Maera sat at a desk in the university administration building when Thala walked in, clothing bedraggled, hair asunder, and carrying a large satchel and a larger bag.
“Thala! This is a jolt. When did you get here and how? You should have told us you were coming to Orosz City.”
“Sorry, Sen Kolsko. I sailed to Penmawr on the sloop Valiant. I didn’t realize Caedellium had even one single ocean-going ship until the Valiant docked at Brudermyn. The captain told me they were finishing a ‘shake-down’ cruise. The second and final one before the ship is considered in service.
“It was much more interesting than the time I came with our men before the Battle of Orosz City. Then, the crew was Fuomi, and I couldn’t talk with them. This time the crew was a combination of Caedelli and men from other lands who spoke our language to different degrees. Most of those asserted they’re now Caedelli.”
“Yes,” said Maera, “it’s the first group of foreign sailors to move here. Quite a collection. A few each from Munjor, Narthon, Fuomon, and even a couple of Iraquiniks. But you’re here. Tell me more. But first, put down your bags and sit.”
Maera motioned to a chair.
Thala nodded, set her bags down, and sat heavily.
“Again, sorry to be a surprise. I confess someone might have tried to discourage me from coming if I gave a forewarning. Also, leaving home was hard, and I wanted time alone to deal with my feelings.
“I had already made my decision to leave Seaborn before your visit. I just hadn’t gotten myself to take the final step and do it. I love my family, but I didn’t see a place for myself in Seaborn—at least, not one I looked forward to. If I pursue medicant training, I want it to be where the training will be the best, and that’s here in Orosz City. There’s also a vibrancy here on the main island that I don’t feel in the Seaborn islands. Oh . . . not that anything’s wrong there. It’s just that for me, everything in Seaborn is so preordained. Maybe it’s because our clan has been so isolated from the rest.” She shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just me. I don’t know.”
“How did your family receive your decision?”
Thala grimaced. “Depended on who it was. Santee was the worst. Maybe it’s because he’s the heir and tries to prepare himself by acting like a father. He didn’t speak to me at all the last sixday before I left. Father surprised me. He disapproved, but I think he had come to accept that I wasn’t going to be the hetman’s daughter he expected. Mother has always been supportive about my being different, and I know she’s talked with Father over the years. My other brother, Mykroft, was not pleased, but he told me he understood and wanted me to be happy.”
“I think you’ll find both Yulan and Santee will come around with time,” said Maera. “So . . . what are your plans now that you’re here?”
“Talk with the medicant school that’s being developed, and see if I can take up further training. If they say no, I’m not sure what I’ll do, other than find a place where I can work as an assistant, based on my previous experience and training.”
“Well . . . that’s not going to be a problem. I’ll take you to Diera Beynom and give a personal recommendation for your character and commitment. It will then be up to her or whoever she designates to determine your training level and whether you will fit into the programs. That’s one thing Yozef is trying to insist on—that people are judged by their ability and not by family position. I suggest you rest today, and tomorrow we’ll go to Diera. We’ll find room for you at Kolsko Manor.”
“Thank you, Ser Kolsko. I’ll accept the offer until I find a place near the school. After spending my life living in a hetman’s house, I want to experience a different life.”
“Whatever you want, Thala. Stay with us as long as you like. I will caution that the manor can be a busy place, what with the children, the staff, and nearby friends who are often around. Also . . . it’s Maera, not Sen Kolsko.”
Three sixdays later, Thala Seaborn moved into a small room near the cathedral complex and ate most meals at the commons dining hall. She was often a guest at Kolsko Manor. After one such visit and hearing how the tall young woman had been at the battles of Orosz City and Milgorn Gorge, Heather began referring to Thala as “Brienne of Tarth,” to Yozef’s and Mark’s amusement and Thala’s confusion.
CHAPTER 44
PAX?
Orosz City
Mark glanced out a window. The sun no longer hit the cliffs on the other side of the river two miles away. Time to wrap up the day and go home. He had enough work to spend another two hours under the lanterns, but then the workers would feel obliged to do the same. It wasn’t fair to them or their families, and he had his own obligations. Maghen was pregnant, to her relief, after fretting for months with her periods coming to signal failure. They had yet to try her traveling with him on occasion and had yet to settle how the new child would change their thinking.
It had taken time since coming to Caedellium, but Mark felt he was back to the routine he’d had in Frangel: work as hard as possible, then come home to Maghen and Alys.
“You’re wanted at your office, Mark.”
He looked away from the pump action to face a woman clerk who’d been recently added to maintain project records. He had been absorbed in what he hoped was the last test of the modified water pump intended for the tin mines in Skouks Province.
“The Paramount just showed up and is looking for you. I told him you were watching and recording the latest engine output numbers. He said it wasn’t urgent and didn’t want to disturb the test, but he’d appreciate your coming to the office when you’re free.”
This may well be the only place on the planet where a ruler is polite, thought Mark. It was one indication why Mark didn’t believe Yozef’s status had gone to his head . . . at least, not completely. The informality the man preferred might also be one reason he received such widespread respect, but Mark didn’t believe Yozef deliberately cultivated it.
“Hustle back and tell the Paramount I’ll be there in a few minutes. The current test cycle is coming to an end, and I’ll finish watching the final minutes.”
She nodded and left.
Mark’s mouth formed a wry grin as he told himself, Even thinking about the man, you can’t get away from him.
Ten minutes later, Mark entered his office to find Yozef going through a stack of the latest reports sitting on the desk.
“I’ve been away almost three sixdays, Mark. I’ll come around tomorrow, and you can brief me on your progress.”
“We weren’t expecting you for another sixday or more. I thought
that’s how long you said it would take to tour those three or four clans.”
Yozef grinned. “Having my own sloop available made some trips easier than I predicted. We docked at three of the four capitals. For Keelan Province, it only got me as far as the port of Salford. From there, it was a carriage inland to Caernford and back. At least, there I visited Maera’s family. I will say, though, that I look forward to trains connecting all the capitals.
“Gwillamer and Keelan were the two main provinces to visit. We landed at Strindmar, the Gwillamer capital. From there, we went northeast to the area near the Keelan border. That’s where I’ve decided to set up one of the two sulfuric acid plants. There’s no getting around that industrialization will take large-scale production of fundamental acids, base, oxidizers, and reductants. The adjacent areas of those two provinces have heavy veins of galena, pyrite, and sphalerite, the sulfides of lead, iron, and zinc. We may use mainly the iron sulfide but having the other two available is a plus. Another advantage of this region is having vast bird and murvor guano deposits along the closest coasts. That means we can produce potassium nitrate locally. The crushed ore is heated to release sulfur dioxide, which is fed into a lead chamber to be mixed with water and nitrate. After some cleanup, we get about forty percent sulfuric acid, which can be further concentrated. Once we have more infrastructure, we can work on improving the yields, but this is sufficient for most of our current uses.
“We’ll be using thick glass carboys of storage and shipment, at least until we can develop enough of a plastics industry, and we can test the carbon steel containers you’re making.”
“I think we’ll have those in the next six months,” said Mark. “In fact, we’ll be giving your people some containers, up to a gallon, to test within two sixdays.”
“Sounds good,” said Yozef. “Anyway . . . the rest of my trip gave me time to ponder what we’ve talked about. The Narthani, that is. We docked at Adris City earlier today, and I’ve come straight from the train station. You know how I’ve struggled.”
Mark nodded, wondering what was coming.
“As I discussed with you before you left, I’m not sure how we can manage a Caedellium industrial revolution and dealing with Narthon simultaneously. I still believe we can make Caedellium effectively an impregnable fortress, as long as we don’t let the innovations spread. An enemy using our own innovations would eventually overwhelm us, just the sheer weight of numbers. Of course, to focus on defenses might mean some of our ideas about trade would suffer from the diversion of resources.”
Yozef shook his head. “I don’t want to embark on a solution that lasts years or decades. If we’re going to do this, I want it to be for our children, grandchildren, and as far into the future as possible. There’s no such thing as permanent, but I hope that with enough time, maybe we can make a difference and allow the peoples of Anyar to evolve. We just have to do what we can to facilitate . . . what? An era of peace?”
“A Pax Caedellicum?” asked Mark.
Yozef’s eyebrows scrunched together. “A what? That sounds familiar.”
“Something a history professor at the Naval Academy discussed with us. At the height of the Roman Empire, wars happened on its edges during expansion, but internally it was relatively peaceful among regions that might otherwise have been in conflict. Oh, they had revolts and battles for power among factions, but it was still more peaceful than it would’ve been. For about two hundred years, they called it the Pax Romana.
“Similarly, for the hundred years leading up to World War I, the British Empire dominated the world and acted as a type of policeman to tamp down most large-scale conflicts. They called it the Pax Britannica. Later, Pax Americana was thirty or more years when the United States was the dominant world power after World War II.”
Yozef turned to face the window, his eyes unfocused. “Pax Caedellicum. Pax Caedellicum. Not exactly the same . . . but there’s something to it. The Caedelli have neither the population nor the central location to rule Anyar, but maybe we don’t have to. We would need help, allies who would agree with our goals or at least go along with us because they have no choice or it was to their benefit. Dealing with the Narthani could be the key. If the rest of Anyar comes to believe Caedellium was instrumental in Narthon’s downfall, they’d be inclined to cooperate with us or at least be leery of working against us.”
Mark involuntarily chuckled. “Sorry, but you’ve gone from Caedellium isolationism to Caedellium the world mover. That’s quite a leap.”
“Too much so?” asked Yozef.
“Most likely, but something has to be done. Even if a Pax Caedellicum doesn’t materialize, minimizing the Narthani threat justifies the effort.”
“So, you’re with me on this?”
Mark laughed and reached his hand across the table, his head canted slightly. “Although I might have phrased it that you are with me, either way the answer is yes.”
Yozef grasped Mark’s hand firmly. Together, they performed a single confirmatory shake. Both men froze in the pose for almost a minute, each one lost in similar thoughts. Finally, as if in sync, they released the grip.
“Now comes the hard part,” said Mark. “What do we actually do next, and next, and next?”
Yozef leaned back in his chair. Mark wondered if it was his imagination, but did Yozef’s face seem less lined than in the months since Seaborn?
“Time can always work against you,” said Yozef, “but let’s each of us let our imaginations run wild for a couple of sixdays, rather than start planning right now. Better to have two independent trains of thought develop and then work on what’s feasible.”
“Our thinking will obviously include those things we’ve previously talked about,” said Mark.
“Yes, those that we discussed, enhancements of those, things we dismissed as impractical, and anything we haven’t talked about.”
“What about bringing in other people?”
“Yes, eventually . . . or maybe soon . . . I don’t know. But for now, let’s keep it as you and me brainstorming with what we know and which innovations are practical, both short term and long term.”
“What’s your definition of short term?” asked Mark.
“Let’s not settle on time frames yet and unnecessarily restrict our ideas. We can worry later about timetables.”
Yozef’s thinking had seemed to solidify during his last days at Strindmar, the Gwillamer Province capital. He had been eager to return to Orosz City and had to steel himself to finish the Gwillamer schedule. When they left on the sloop, the last stop was the Hewell capital, Norwyt. There, his willpower flagged, and he cut short the visit by two days, to the expected irritation of Hetman Lordum Hewell. Yozef apologized, fabricated a reason for the early departure, and promised himself he would find a way to placate the hetman, who had been a strong and consistent supporter.
After leaving Mark, Yozef scarcely paid attention to the surroundings and the people on his walk home. His bags should have been at Kolsko Manor by now, and his family would be wondering where he was, but he wanted more time to think. Yozef paid close attention to all the updates Mark had sent. He hadn’t wanted to stray from the purpose of today’s visit, but he had already decided to okay Mark’s moving from the development stage to full-size steam trains as soon as the medium-size train locomotive intended for the larger mines was functional. Mark was good. Better than Yozef had hoped. They would make one more of probably far too many leaps of faith and up the priority to prepare for three major steel rail lines, with Orosz City as the hub: to Adris City, to Preddi City, and to Shullick via Cherona, Clitwyth, and Penmawr. Other lines would follow as needed and practical.
He would have to mobilize the island’s people. Maybe not to the extent he did against the Narthani, but certainly to a degree they were not expecting. Resistance was likely, from both the common people and the hetmen. As much as he cringed at the thought, he would take advantage of the Kolinka attack to foment people’s outrage. He foresaw how it wo
uld go.
“Yes, we defeated the Narthani, but they haven’t gone away.” True. “They are as much an immediate threat as before.” Untrue. “If we want to be at peace forever, we have to bring down Narthon.” Half-true because a guarantee of eternal peace was impossible. “We already have strong allies and will get more.” Semi-true and hopeful. “Caedellium has already shown the world that the Narthani are not invincible.” True, though the comparison to continent-wide wars was questionable. “Now, we will lead the way to crush the Narthon Empire.” Grandiose. “If you are not with me on this, you risk your children’s and grandchildren’s future.” Maybe, or maybe it would make their future worse.
He would need every tool—his stature as Paramount Hetman, leader of the war against the Narthani—and, with great reluctance, would have to re-stoke the rumors of his being a Septarsh to whom God whispers. He would never get over knowing he was lying every time he used that tactic. He felt a sense of blasphemy, even if he didn’t know whether he believed in God.
Information. They needed far more information on what was happening everywhere on Anyar, but especially about Narthon’s move on southern Landolin. It had been a year since the subjugation of Amalor, but Narthon had not made further advances, except for vague reports of some Narthani troops being in Jahmnor. Why had nothing further been reported? Were they still intent on ruling the entire continent? Had fighting on the Melosian western and eastern fronts gone against them, causing Narthon to assess its expansion attempts?
It was too much for Yozef to hope that a tide had turned against Narthon. He no longer could depend on that hope. Caedellium needed to do something. Would he be doing the right thing, thrusting Caedellium into affairs far beyond its status? Was he letting the Kolinkan attack short-circuit his logic, was he depending too much on his emotions, as he had when he sent Balwis, Wyfor, and Synton off to kill Erdelin, the Narthani leader controlling the now-disbanded Eywell Clan? His blood still ran hot when he remembered the Kolinka attack, but time and the reality of disclosing his thoughts to Mark somehow gave him the confidence that he was thinking logically. Still, contrary thoughts nagged at the edges of his consciousness.
A Dubious Peace Page 63
