Tales of Anyar

by Olan Thorensen

  Elac Kemescu sat stunned, as the bowl emptied. While recovering from wounds and worrying about Munmar being revealed, he had not listened to news of happenings elsewhere on Caedellium or paid attention to conversations about such news. There would be Narthani remaining on Caedellium—in Preddi Province! The hetmen and the theophists charged people to accept these Narthani as new clanspeople!

  If I can get Munmar to Preddi, maybe he can remain on Caedellium. That all sounds good, but this trial shows not every islander is yet willing to forgive. How can I trust that Munmar will be safe?

  As Kemescu left to return to Devanyo, he saw Feren Bakalacs and Yozef Kolsko talking with a knot of men and women. He felt hesitant about his hetman learning that he’d hidden a Narthani—no matter what Bakalacs had said during the tribunal. But Kolsko? Kemescu knew the rumors, now assumed to be true by many in his own family. If Kolsko was a Septarsh, surely he was close enough to God to be trusted. But how to talk to a Septarsh?

  He walked to the cluster of people and positioned himself so that Kolsko faced in his direction. Every time the man’s face and eyes passed over him, Elac raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes, and rocked his head—as much as he could do to attract Kolsko’s attention without being too obvious.

  The group slowly thinned during the next forty minutes, and Elac stayed within Kolsko’s sight, gradually coming closer to the paramount. Several times, Feren Bakalacs noticed his clansman hanging around and gave Elac a questioning expression but got no response. When only four men were left, Elac heard Feren Bakalacs say, “Let’s go to my manor, and we can continue talking there.”

  “Thanks, Feren,” said Kolsko. “Could you give me a moment? I need to speak to someone.”

  Bakalacs looked at Elac, shrugged, and said, “I’ll be over at the carriage when you’re finished.”

  Once Bakalacs and the other two men walked out of hearing, Kolsko turned to Elac. “You seemed to be trying to get my attention, Ser.”

  Elac swallowed to loosen his throat. Here he was trying to talk to a Septarsh and the Paramount. Even without the issue of Munmar’s identity, he would have been nervous speaking to someone of such stature. And now, could he reveal information without serious consequences for both himself and Munmar, if he had misjudged Kolsko?

  He walked several steps closer, then hesitantly gave a jerky bow.

  “Many pardons, Ser Paramount,” said Elac, beads of sweat popping up on his brow. “I don’t know the proper address for someone such as yourself. My name is Elac Kemescu.”

  “Please, Ser Kemescu. I’ll call you Elac, and you can call me Yozef. Titles are such awkward things. What is it you wanted to talk with me about?”

  Please let it be something interesting and not to tell me how wonderful I am , thought Yozef.

  Elac swallowed and glanced around to ensure no one else could hear. “Uh . . . Ser . . . uh, Yozef.” The name emerged from Elac’s throat as if pulled out by force. “I hadn’t heard Narthani are remaining on Caedellium because they wanted to be Caedelli. Did I hear right?”

  “Yes, Elac. Even the little exposure many experienced of normal life on Caedellium must have impressed them as being better than in Narthon. What do you think of the idea? If you one day meet one of these people, will you be able to treat them as clanspeople, or will they always be Narthani to you?”

  This Farkesher was one of the few islanders Yozef had interacted with since the armistice who was not at the clan leadership level.

  Getting the hetmen to buy into the idea was hard enough , thought Yozef . I should talk more to common people to see how the idea is going over.

  Elac frowned. “I don’t know exactly how I feel, since part of me thinks I should want every Narthani off the island. However, I know there’s a reason for my uncertainty.”

  He glanced around nervously once more, licking his lips. “There’s something I’d like to talk with you about, but I need to be sure you won’t tell anyone else. It’s something I haven’t even told Hetman Farkesh.”

  Well, shit, thought Yozef . I’m not a priest who’s open for confessionals . He groaned internally. Which reminds me, do the theophists here have a custom of confidentiality? He didn’t know whether he should advise the man to see a theophist. Imaginary scenarios flashed through Yozef’s mind of the man confessing some crime or infidelity, neither of which he had the calling, authority, or inherent interest to hear about.

  “Elac . . . uh . . . perhaps there’s someone else you should be talking with about this. Possibly a theophist you trust or a good friend?”

  “I wouldn’t know who is more appropriate than yourself, Para . . . er . . . Yozef. Not after hearing you speak today about how the ex-Narthani should be accepted as citizens of Caedellium and not be treated as Narthani. You see . . . ,” Elac checked once again for other ears, took a breath, and made the leap, using a conspiratorial voice, “there’s already a Narthani living here in Devanyo.”

  Yozef’s interest perked up. “Ah . . . I thought Hetman Farkesh told me there were none?”

  “He doesn’t know,” replied Elac, “but a Narthani soldier lives and works with me.” Once the secret was out, Elac rushed on, the words running into each other so that Yozef, even with his fluency in Caedelli, stopped Elac and asked him to repeat himself several times. When the Farkesher finished, he waited tensely and stared at Yozef—who reciprocated with his own stare, while he cogitated over what he’d heard.

  I’ll be damned. This is one story I’ve got to hear more about. In fact, it should get written down. I’ll talk with Maera about how this might be circulated as a lesson that not all enemies are evil and how even a clansman who fought against the Narthani can come to accept them.

  Elac wondered why the Septarsh chuckled and smiled so broadly. Maybe he thinks I’ve made this up or I’m crazy or who knows what he’s thinking?

  Recognizing the Farkesher’s worry, Yozef assuaged his fears. “Thank you for confiding in me, Elac. And don’t be concerned that you’ve done anything wrong. I’m pleased to hear this story, and I approve of the actions you took. I’m sure everything is consistent with the Word ’s charge for mercy and understanding. I’m supposed to be eating mid-day meal with Hetman Bakalacs. I’d like to hear more details of your story, and I think the hetman will also be interested.”

  “What do you think, Feren?” Yozef asked the Farkesh hetman three hours later after a long meal and session with the nervous Elac Kemescu.

  “As you told Kemescu, quite a story. I must confess that part of me admires my clansman for overcoming his feelings about a Narthani, especially considering the extreme conditions of their meeting. Another part wants to be angry that he brought a Narthani soldier into Farkesh without my knowledge. I’m afraid it’s a reflection of how difficult accepting these people will be.”

  “It definitely complicates matters,” said Yozef. “I figured the ex-Narthani being confined at first to Preddi Province would give people enough time to get used to the idea of having them around. Maybe I was too optimistic, and this may take longer, with feelings still so raw.”

  Bakalacs put a finger in his right ear and shook it, as if relieving an irritation. Yozef recognized it as the Farkesh hetman’s gesture when concerned.

  “We hoped sentencing Noscatu to exile would serve as a deterrent to such future acts. Now, here we have not a Narthani boy uninvolved in the fighting, but an actual Narthani soldier who may well have killed Caedelli. We must recognize that when word gets out, which it will, someone might have such furyy that they may not be able to control themselves. This Narthani’s life may be in serious danger. I’d hate to have to exile yet another clansman, though that’s what I would have to do.”

  “I agree, Feren. The enmity runs too deep in too many people. The obvious solution is to get this Munmar Kellen to Preddi as soon as possible. Your clansman, Kemescu, is already planning that. The sooner this happens, the better. I’d like to interview Kellen myself, but I don’t speak Narthani. Kemescu says the man’s
Caedelli is improving, but it may not be to the point of getting into detailed conversations. I suppose there are some ex-Narthani slaves in Farkesh who could translate, but we couldn’t be certain word wouldn’t get out.”

  “I suppose you could ask Balwis to see if the man has any useful information,” said Bakalacs. “I know how he hates the Narthani, but to my surprise, he seems to be dealing fairly with the ex-Narthani who chose to remain.”

  “Balwis and I had a long discussion about this, and I came away satisfied. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have supported him becoming the new Hetman Preddi. He’s changed since I first met him. Oh, he’s still disrespectful of those in higher positions, but it’s a bit of cosmic justice that now there are so few people to whom he can be insubordinate. Others may not have seen it when they first met him, but he’s quite protective of anyone under his responsibility. I’ll write to him and lay the burden of Kellen on him. I’m sure he can find a place for another Narthani within his clan.

  “I’ll also talk to Kemescu about getting Kellen to Preddi and inquire a little more about the man’s history to see if there’s anything to include when I write to Balwis. I’ll probably want to question Kellen at some point when he has learned enough Caedelli. Also, you or I should provide them with enough coin for the trip.”

  “Well, shit! Another damn Narthani? Don’t I already have enough of them to cozy up to, without Yozef digging around the island finding more?”

  Ceinwyn Preddi heard her husband’s voice even through the closed door of the room he was using as a study and where he had taken a packet of mail. She walked down the broad staircase from their second-floor bedroom, holding the banister for stability—careful not to come down too hard on each step since the bulge of the baby she carried tended to bounce.

  She wanted to find out what caused her husband’s latest tirade but needed to stay off her feet. She didn’t knock when she got to the study. He’d told her she didn’t need to, and he had had several sofas placed around the villa for her to lie on as she complained constantly that the villa was too big for her current condition.

  When they’d moved to Preddi City, they’d needed a home appropriate for a hetman. The previous hetman’s manor had been burned to the ground by the Narthani to help erase any symbols of prior clan history. When Balwis first entered the city after being declared hetman, Yozef had accompanied him and suggested using the now abandoned villa of Okan Akuyun, the Narthani commander. The original owner had been an important merchant, but all of his family had been shipped off to slave markets, leaving no heir to claim the empty property.

  When Balwis asked how he could take ownership, Yozef said, “You’re the hetman. Just ‘declare’ that any property now without identified owners will belong to the clan, to be disposed of to the clan’s benefit. You’re the hetman, so it’s to the clan’s benefit that you have an appropriate residence.”

  Balwis thought for a moment, then said, “You know, Yozef, I think I might like being hetman after all.”

  Elac Kemescu and Munmar Kellen guided their horses off the road as it topped a hillock a mile from Preddi City’s outer fortifications.

  “There were many times I did not believe I would ever see this sight again,” said Munmar.

  “And you probably didn’t think you’d come back as an islander about to join the Preddi Clan,” Elac said, laughing.

  “No. Before the battle, the most I hoped for was living to see this city once more. I thought I’d eventually sail back to Narthon or Landolin or the Iraquinik’s lands. Rumors suggested that Narthon intended to attack them. All I knew was that I’d spend the rest of my life in the Narthani army fighting people I wasn’t angry at, for reasons I didn’t understand. Then, if I was fortunate to survive, I would retire when I got too old to be in the army. In my later years, I’d watch my sons begin the same life. It was never a life or a future I looked forward to, only one that was , as if there were no other possibilities.”

  “Yet here we are,” said Elac. “Sitting on horses loaned to us from the Farkesh hetman, carrying letters written by him and Paramount Kolsko that we’re supposed to deliver in person to Hetman Preddi. If I were a more pious man, I’d wonder what reward or punishment I deserved for God to lead me on such a path.”

  “Elac . . . ,” Munmar hesitated and turned his mount so he could look straight at his chaperone. “I’ve thanked you before for keeping me safe. It’s not something every islander would have done and probably even fewer Narthani—treating a past enemy this way. This last sixday, while we traveled here from Devanyo, we have talked many hours. Now, I find that I will miss you when you return to your home.

  “It was hard for me to make friends back in Narthon. I did not fit in with my family and had the same problem at first in the army. Then, when I was made an officer, having friends among the men I commanded was impossible. I hope it does not make you feel . . . what was the Caedelli word? Oh yes, awkward . I hope it does not make you feel awkward if I say I would like to think of you as a friend—no matter how you feel toward me. However, I know it is best for you and your family to be rid of me.”

  Elac’s thoughts were a muddle on hearing Munmar’s statement. He felt as if his mind were at war with itself: how he felt versus how he thought he should feel.

  “God curse it, Munmar,” he grumbled. “My life was much easier to understand before I saved your ass at the end of the battle.”

  “Was that before or after I saved yours?” Munmar asked with a smile.

  Elac joined in the laughter. “We’d better get to Preddi City before someone comes along and wonders what these two idiots are hooting about.”

  They prodded their horses back onto the road and followed a caravan of four wagons toward a main gate. Munmar noticed that Elac hadn’t responded about their friendship.

  They waited two hours before a short, wiry man missing most of one arm told them the hetman was trying to convince a group of tradesmen that accepting ex-Narthani and ex-slaves as workers was not optional. The man’s cackle after he said this and his dangerous demeanor, notwithstanding his missing an arm, made both men wonder if coming all this way to meet the new Preddi hetman had been such a good idea. Yet turning back was out of the question, because the wiry man then led them to a building and told them to wait. He took the letters from Hetman Farkesh and Yozef Kolsko and went inside. He came back twenty minutes later, accompanied by a tall man with a scar across his face above and below his left eye. Elac’s eyes narrowed at the aura the man exuded, and Munmar reflexively stiffened, as if in the presence of a high-ranking officer.

  Balwis took in the two dusty, worn-looking men. They’d said they’d come directly to find him after they entered the city. “So you’re the Narthani that’s been hiding out in Farkesh Province?” Balwis said pointedly to Munmar, then turned to Elac. “And the Farkesher that hid him these months?”

  Both men nodded. Elac shifted his feet nervously, while Munmar stared back with a stoic expression.

  “I’ve read the letters. It must be quite a story, and I’ll have to hear more sometime. But let’s get right to the point,” said Balwis, addressing Munmar. “Yozef writes that you were a captain of the Narthani infantry. Young for the position, but from a military family. He says you’re bright and somewhat confused as to exactly what your future will be here on Caedellium. He also writes of his sense that you cared deeply for the men under your command—an admirable trait and one I can see could have gotten you into eventual trouble in a Narthani army.

  “As it happens, I have two positions for you to split your time between. The letter said you have experience in carpentry. I don’t know your level of expertise, but there are more construction projects than we have workers for, so you should have no problem getting employment. I’ll see to it there’s work here in Preddi City since I’ll need you here for the second job. The Caedellium War Council has ordered all clans to plan on having a permanent dragoon battalion plus horse artillery, to be available on one day’s notice. In addi
tion, each clan is required to develop militias that could be called on within one sixday. These latter units will only train enough to maintain basic organization. The other clans are already fulfilling these requirements, but the Preddi Clan formed with no prior military organization. Many of our men are Preddi Clan members who survived the Narthani occupation and have never taken part in the last year’s fighting. Other men are ex-slaves who might never have touched a weapon. Added to that are the several thousand Narthani who chose to stay on Caedellium, hundreds of whom were soldiers.

  “It will be a grueling task to rebuild the Preddi Clan and get all the factions working together. This means rebuilding the society, the economy, and producing the clan’s share of fighting men, should we need to defend the island again. The other clans are helping, but we are woefully short of qualified people for every possible job that needs doing.”

  Balwis stopped and looked at Munmar in a way that worried the Narthani. “That’s why I must use every resource possible. Yozef Kolsko says he thinks you are trustworthy, and having seen what that exasperating man can do, I’m inclined to accept his evaluation. That’s why you are going to be Captain Munmar Kellen, commander of one of the Preddi Clan’s ready dragoon companies. I will also announce you as a military adviser. Both roles should carry enough weight to forestall anyone’s qualms about an ex-Narthani, and one so young, having these positions.”

  An outside observer would have been hard-pressed to know who was the most stunned—Munmar or Elac.

  “But . . . but . . . I’m not even a member of your clan, Hetman Preddi. And even so, I was a newly promoted captain, and if many of the men will be ex-slaves and original Preddi, would they accept me?”

  “I’m afraid that type of argument will not get you any sympathy,” said Balwis. “I told Yozef Kolsko similar things when I was made a company and then battalion commander. I guess it was fortunate Yozef wasn’t around when I was forced to take command of a regiment. For none of those promotions was I qualified. It was simply the belief of Yozef and others that I was the best qualified. In honesty, Yozef once told me I could get out of the promotion if I told him the name of someone more qualified. The fact that I couldn’t come up with a name gives you some idea of the dire straits we found ourselves in. So, sorry, but I’m not interested in reasons why you shouldn’t be a Preddi company commander.”