Tales of Anyar

by Olan Thorensen

  “For now,” said the medicant. “But the first step is clearing the entire province of Narthani, except for Preddi City. Those will be the last.”

  “What if Narthani are found elsewhere? Maybe some are still hiding in the hills or trying to get back to Preddi.”

  The medicant shook his head. “I doubt there are many. The clans scoured for hundreds of miles. If Yozef Kolsko hadn’t insisted on keeping prisoners after the battle, I doubt a single Narthani would have survived.”

  Elac detected a hint of regret in the last words.

  I need to get Munmar to Preddi City before the last shipload of Narthani leaves. Neither of us is in shape or has enough coin to get there now. If they think it will take five to seven months, I can take him back home with me, then when we’re both recovered, and I have enough coin, we can travel to Preddi. It’ll also give him time to learn enough Caedelli to help disguise what he is.

  A sixday later, a caravan of wagons left Orosz City for Farkesh, Elac’s home province. Four of the twenty wagons carried wounded who had recovered enough for the journey. The wagons’ flatbeds had two-foot sides, with straw and cloth covering the bed for the men to sit or lie on. By this time, Munmar’s beard and plain clothing provided sufficient cover—no one would suspect a Narthani rode in a wagon. Elac continued to speak for them both, now no longer claiming Munmar as a cousin but an islander from an unknown clan whose injuries left him unable to speak and addled of mind. Yet because the man had saved Elac’s life, Elac told any questioner that he felt committed to care for the unnamed man.

  By the end of the first day, the drivers of the trade wagons grew frustrated at the slow pace. They pulled ahead, leaving the wagons with wounded to proceed at a speed more comfortable for men still recovering and in pain if jolted. At night, the wagons stopped in villages and towns, if possible. Otherwise, they camped near water. Wherever they stopped, the local people supplied more food than they could eat, and any available medicants checked the men’s condition. A full sixday later, the wagons arrived in Devanyo, the capital of the Farkesh clan and province.

  By that time, a third of the men had been left with family members, as the wagons passed near their homes. Most of Elac’s extended family lived in the western sections of the capital. Feren Bakalacs, the Farkesh hetman, insisted on a ceremony and a welcoming parade. Five miles from the city’s center, a hundred mounted men with banners met the wagons and escorted them through the outer hamlets, past the outer sections of the city, and into the great square of Devanyo. Although most of the men preferred to simply reunite with their families, the hetman took the occasion to remember all the fallen: those killed by the Narthani, those with lesser wounds who’d already returned home, and now one of the last batches of more seriously wounded.

  Crowds lined the main street, and people cheered as the wagons passed. At the central square, a roped-off section was accessible only to families of men in the wagons. They had been alerted via semaphore message from Orosz City. As soon as Elac’s wagon stopped, he stood and scanned for recognized faces. He quickly spotted his wife, Lesca, holding their youngest in her arms and the oldest by hand. Behind Lesca, he saw both of his parents, two of his three sisters, his two living brothers, and other members of his extended family. Only the brother who died at the Battle of Moreland City was missing.

  Chaos presented a momentary threat to the returnees as families pressed forward. Men shouted and quieted the throng long enough to let the men in the wagon dismount and be led to their families. Elac’s family engulfed him. First his wife and children, then parents, siblings, cousins, and a few people whose relationships he stumbled to remember.

  Only when they were being led away to make room for other families did he remember Munmar.

  “WAIT!” he called out loudly to be heard above the talking of everyone who came to meet him. “There’s someone I brought with me.” He extricated himself and returned to the wagon. Munmar sat alone, his posture suggesting an attempt to be unnoticed.

  “Munmar, come on,” he said, motioning with both hands. “I know you still don’t understand most of what I say, but we have to go, and I’ll tell my family about you.” Elac also thought, At least, the story I’ve made up about who you are and why you’re coming with us.

  He took Munmar by the elbow and led him back to the family, some of whom wore questioning looks.

  “Munmar Kellen is his name. He was wounded severely in the battle and can’t talk. He also acts a little simpleminded and can’t always understand what’s being said to him. He saved my life. I was wounded and unconscious. He treated my injuries enough for me to live until the medicants got to me. They told me if he hadn’t done what he did, I almost certainly would have died.”

  Elac’s mother rushed to Munmar tearfully and crushed him in an embrace. “Oh, bless you, Mun . . . Munmar, is that his name?”

  “Yes. Munmar.”

  She kissed the Narthani on a cheek, hugged him again, and made way for similar displays from Elac’s wife and sisters, then thanks and back-slaps from the family’s men. When Elac’s father held out an arm, Munmar stared at it, then at Elac.

  “He doesn’t understand, Father. Remember, I said his mind isn’t clear.”

  “No matter,” said Selkak Kemescu. He pulled Munmar’s right arm forward and led him into the traditional Farkesh forearm clasp. Other men followed suit.

  “Where’s he from?” asked Sonyus Kemescu, Elac’s twenty-year-old sister.

  “No one knows,” answered Elac, moving into his carefully planned narrative. “When he does manage to get out a word, it’s hard to understand. So far, no one has recognized him, and he hasn’t been able to communicate. The medicants say it all might pass, and his speech and mind could eventually return. Until then, I owe him my life, and I’ve committed to God to look after him as long as necessary.”

  “Quite right,” said Elac’s father.

  “Yes, yes,” echoed Lesca Kemescu. “Anyone who saved Elac can live with us for as long as is needed.”

  With Munmar’s status settled, Elac endured the rest of the day before he could get home and fall asleep in his own bed—something he had doubted would ever happen again. Munmar temporarily settled into Lesca’s workroom, and Elac promised that he and Munmar would expand a spare room attached to the woodworking shop behind the house. Elac stayed at home three days before rejoining the family carpentry business, working a few hours a day, then more as he healed.

  Elac moved back into his previous life, but things had changed.

  “Dear, what’s wrong?” asked Lesca one evening after the two children were asleep. “I can tell you’re restless, as if you’ve something on your mind. Is it about the battle at Orosz City? You haven’t talked about it to me or anyone else in the family since you got home. I know it was terrible. We’ve heard stories from men who were there. Even Perna asked me if anything is wrong with her father.”

  Elac glanced at the door of the bedroom where the children slept: daughter Perna, six years old; son Kesnu, two.

  “I’m not sure I know, Lesca. As much as I thank God that I made it back home to you and the children, I’m changed. I don’t know what it means, but I maybe expected things to be the same as before. Maybe I can’t be the same man. Not after Orosz City. No matter what stories you’ve heard, there’s no way I can describe what I saw and did that can make you understand. I think people would need to experience it themselves to know what I feel.”

  “Is that why you seem so concerned about Munmar? Oh, I know you feel an obligation since he saved your life, and I don’t begrudge that. But is it also because he can understand the part of you that I can’t, no matter how much I want to?”

  “Yes—but there’s something else. Something I’ll tell you about, just not yet. I need some time, so you have to be patient.”

  Lesca embraced her husband. “You know I’m here. Just try to make peace with whatever it is.”

  The Farkesh clan struggled to return to life the way it had
been before they mobilized to fight the Narthani. Workers and tradespeople who’d been diverted to making muskets, cannon, ammunition, and storing food attempted to pick up their previous work. Most succeeded, at least to a degree. Along with disruption of the economy and changing conditions, the islanders—no longer merely independent, mainly agrarian clans—had to cope with burgeoning centralization and increased opportunities. Elac continued to feel restless during the next four months, even if outside observers—except for his wife—believed everything was as before. He worked with the other men of the Kemescu family in their carpentry business. As the youngest of three brothers, he was accustomed to working under the direction of either his father or the two older brothers.

  The Farkesh clan had not suffered direct Narthani attacks, unlike some other clans, so no major rebuilding was needed. However, coin remained in tight supply, as the economy tried to re-establish itself and new work within Farkesh Province returned slowly. In contrast, some clans experienced booms in construction to repair damage from the fighting. Many workers moved temporarily to those clans short of needed workers, thereby reducing the pool of carpenters in Farkesh and helping balance the work-to-workers ratio within the province.

  Munmar worked alongside Elac. The Narthani learned quickly, a contradiction to his supposed simple-mindedness that Elac’s family either didn’t notice or ignored. He ate with Elac’s family, played with the two children, helped with chores around the house and yard, and, most important, immersed himself in the Caedelli language. He listened intently to anything said within his hearing and tried to associate the words with actions. Elac arranged for them to work separately from other family members as much as possible, and during those hours, the two men kept up nonstop lessons in Caedelli.

  As Munmar’s ability to communicate improved, Elac learned of his life history: a military family in Narthon, no wife yet, years of training and army service, and coming to Caedellium. Munmar’s increased ability to speak Caedelli led to tense discussions.

  “One of my brothers died at Moreland City,” said Elac. “My family will never forgive Narthon for what it did on Caedellium.”

  “Sorry, Elac,” said Munmar, in his still broken but improving Caedelli. “I wasn’t here when your brother died. I fighting Iraquiniks. Very bad, too. Many deaths. Best friend lost both legs and killed self. I wanted to cry, but Narthani not to cry. Instead, I pretend proud friend.”

  “Were you proud to be fighting the Iraquiniks?” asked Elac. “Did you and your people hate them like we hate the Narthani?”

  “I not know Iraquiniks. Never met. Never talked. Strangers. Also, they me. Fight because ordered to. If no fight, I be killed by army. No choice.”

  Only after these brief, elementary interchanges early on did Elac know he felt more than an obligation to Munmar. He was honest enough to see the difficulty of being raised in a culture that placed strictures on citizens’ thoughts and actions. He had also interacted with Munmar long enough to see him as a normal man and not the ogre most Farkeshers imagined of every Narthani.

  In addition, Elac was empathetic for situations beyond one’s control. Elac’s birth into a carpenter’s family meant that from the time he understood speech, he was expected to be a carpenter and junior to his father and brothers—all factors beyond his control. Hadn’t it been the same for Munmar?

  Four months after the Orosz City battle, Elac figured he needed to get Munmar to Preddi City before the last Narthani ship left. Munmar also spoke enough Caedelli to pass as an islander with a rough voice, an injured larynx, and a little simple-minded. Thus, Elac planned to broach the topic while working alone with Munmar to frame a farm shed. To Elac’s puzzlement, he regretted the prospect of the Narthani leaving. Nevertheless, he primed himself to bring it up. Then Munmar surprised him.

  “Elac, I believe I should move. Maybe live in another place in the city.”

  “Move?” asked Elac. “I thought you were comfortable living with my family.”

  “Oh, you, your wife, and your children are good. I thank you for allowing me to live with you. It is other members of your family that live near. I think I should be farther from them.”

  Despite Elac’s questioning, Munmar gave no additional information.

  That evening, Elac asked his wife, “What do you think, Lesca? Have you heard or seen anything I’ve missed? Is Munmar not getting along with people? Who?”

  Lesca shook her head. “His speech is improving every day, so he should be able to live by himself, although I don’t know of anything that would lead Munmar to want to move farther from the family . . . unless.” She pursed her lips. “Unless he’s not getting along with Sonyus.”

  “Sonyus? Why would there be a problem?”

  “I might be imagining it, but there may be tension between them. You’d have to talk with her.”

  Which Elac did the next day when he stopped by his parent’s house only a hundred yards from his own home.

  He found his sister hanging clothes to dry behind the family home.

  “Hello, Elac,” Sonyus greeted him cheerily. “What brings you by this time of day?”

  “I wanted to ask you about Munmar,” Elac said.

  Her face tightened, and she sniffed. “Humph. I had begun to think he wasn’t as addle-brained as you made out, but at other times I revised that thought. Maybe he is dense, but I think he’s pretending. Anyway, I’ve seen how he looks at me, so I know he’s interested in . . . you know. But when I give signs I might be interested in return, he won’t answer, tries to talk about something else, or just walks away.”

  Elac needed to be careful in his response. His sister exasperated their parents with her outspokenness and flirtatious nature, which led townspeople to question her reputation. Elac’s father wished she would settle on a single man, get married, and be out of the family home. Elac suspected Sonyus felt offended that a man she showed interest in didn’t reciprocate.

  “Well, he’s recovered more of his senses than when he first came here. As for his interest, has it ever occurred to you that not every man is interested in getting you on your back?”

  “Not if they aren’t family,” Sonyus sniffed. “And not the way he keeps looking at me. I wonder if he thinks the customs in Farkesh are different from his clan. I don’t know people farther away on Caedellium. You know . . . Gwillamer, Bevans, or maybe Keelan. I hear the Keelanders can be prissy. How about you man-talking with him to check that out?”

  Elac couldn’t think of a way to refuse that wouldn’t lead where he didn’t want to go.

  “All right, but it’ll just be a general probing. I’m not arranging assignations for my sister.”

  Sonyus grinned and slapped him on the butt before she flounced off.

  Two days later, the opportunity arose for Elac to broach two topics. The first one he didn’t dance around.

  “Munmar, what do you think of my sister Sonyus?”

  The Narthani kept sawing a small timber. “Sonyus?” he answered in a guarded tone. “Very nice.”

  Come on, Munmar , thought Elac. A little more information, and I don’t think many people would describe her in only that one word. Attractive, alluring, bold, exasperating, argumentative, licentious perhaps, but not just nice .

  “How about as an appealing young woman? You do find women interesting, don’t you?”

  The sawing stopped, and Munmar turned to look at Elac. “You or she doesn’t think I’ve been disrespectful to her, do you?”

  Elac grinned at Munmar’s obvious discomfiture and red face. “If anything, I think she’s annoyed you haven’t taken more liberties with her. She’s my sister, but her interest in men has been almost an embarrassment for the family. Our people are open about such things, but she’s . . . well, I’ll only say the family wishes she’d pick out a single man.”

  Munmar frowned. “Should you talk about your sister that way? It wouldn’t be allowed in my family back in Narthon.”

  “Well, you are interested in women, aren�
��t you?”

  The Narthani’s complexion got even redder but with anger, not embarrassment. “Of course, I am, but I’ve not married yet. They only promoted me to captain just before I left Narthon. My father wrote he was arranging a marriage with a respectable family, which would already have happened if we hadn’t come here.”

  Elac wished the topic hadn’t opened up a sensitive subject that added to the Caedelli hatred of the invaders. “Uh . . . not married, but I assume you’ve been with women? We know your people had brothels in the three provinces they controlled.” Elac didn’t add that the establishments were forcibly staffed with islander or slave women.

  “Those are considered necessary for the common soldiers. I don’t approve and never used them.”

  Gratified at Munmar’s declarations and eager to move on, Elac returned to the topic of his sister. “Perhaps my questions are none of my business. I only asked to satisfy my sister, so she won’t pester me about it. It’s just as well you and Sonyus don’t become too involved, since I think it’s time that we get you to Preddi City. Word is that the last of the Narthani ships are expected to leave in one to two months. If we wait any longer, there’s a chance you’ll be trapped here the rest of your life.”

  Munmar placed the saw on the ground and sat on a pile of timbers. He licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “That’s something I have thought harder on than you can imagine, Elac. This last month, once I learned enough of your language to feel like more than a lump of wood—you know, talking with people and having them see me as just another person, I realize I may feel better than I have for as long as I can remember. I know I’m just a stranger here. Well, more than a stranger. What would the word be? Someone who is not what they seem to be?”

  “An imposter?” suggested Elac.

  “If that is someone pretending to be something else, then maybe yes, an imposter. There would always be a danger that people find out who I really am, and that would be bad. Even so, I strangely find myself regretting leaving here more than I look forward to returning home and seeing my own family. I know we’re taught to revere our parents and the rest of our family, but how your family members treat one another is nothing like I see at my home. Maybe I would say I believe you love your family, even Sonyus. But I don’t feel that for any of my family, except my mother and one sister, and even those relationships can be strained. I worried at first when these thoughts came to me. Now I wonder if it’s more to do with the customs of my people or perhaps it’s only my own family. I don’t know.