Tales of Anyar

by Olan Thorensen

  “Merciful God!” Chakez exclaimed. “It’s the paramount’s flag and look at the silver sash. It has to be him! Now what am I supposed to do?”

  “I think you got their attention.” Kivalian grinned. “Nothing like the commander in chief showing up unannounced to generate excitement.”

  “Yes,” said Yozef, “and now I think it’s appropriate to demonstrate one reason why there shouldn’t be a gate at clan borders. No one would want to impede the passage of the paramount, would they?”

  He turned in Man O’ War’s saddle to address the men immediately behind him. “Synton, Carnigan—there seems to be an obstacle in our path. Perhaps you could assist those men in removing it?”

  Synton Ethlore leered, which was frightening in its own way. Ethlore might not be as dangerous as Yozef’s previous bodyguard, Wyfor Kales, but the distinction couldn’t be determined by appearances. Carnigan was . . . well . . . Carnigan. No one on Caedellium who had not been asleep the last few years could fail to recognize the large, red-headed guard and friend of Yozef Kolsko or the outsized battleax attached to his saddle, a weapon the man could wield like a baton.

  Ethlore turned and shouted, and the lieutenant commanding the first dragoon platoon followed Ethlore and Carnigan at a gallop toward the border gate.

  “Are they attacking!?” cried a man behind Chakez. All twelve of the station’s men were now outside and gaping at what approached. “Should we get out muskets and take cover? Hurkel! Wake up! What are we supposed to do?”

  Chakez swallowed. “Damned if I know, but I know what we’re not supposed to do is piss these people off.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to stop everyone at the border to make them identify themselves and say why they’re coming to Vandinke?”

  “Are you stupid, insane, or both? That’s the paramount! What are the dozen of us supposed to do to stop all those paramount dragoons! What we are going to do is anything they want us to.”

  Ethlore and Carnigan reined in just short of the gate near what they assumed was the leader of the border station, throwing dirt and grit onto the man’s trousers.

  “Say there, good man,” rumbled Carnigan. “This gate seems to be in the paramount’s way.”

  “Oh . . . we’ll open right away,” said Chakez and shouted to men to raise the five-inch-thick tree trunk hinged to a post on one side of the road.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” said Carnigan, dismounting faster than a man his size should be able to. He pulled the ax from its handle sheath and, with a one-handed blow, cleaved the timber diagonally, the two ends smashing to the ground. He then turned to Ethlore. “Synton, perhaps you could help these men clear the road.”

  Ethlore and a few other men roped the pieces of the gate, the gateposts, and twenty yards of posts and fencing that flanked the gate. With the rope fastened to their saddles, they pulled the pieces apart and out of the ground.

  “I’m sure the paramount would appreciate you and your men putting all this useless wood into a pile and burning it,” said Carnigan with a level voice and a dead-eyed stare.

  Chakez looked at the creature in front of him, at the shredded gate and fencing, at his men, and back at Carnigan. He whirled and cried out, “All you men! Don’t just stand there! Get all those pieces into a pile and burn them!”

  Fifteen minutes later, Chakez stood coughing from the smoke, as he watched the last wagon and dragoons disappear toward Herstek.

  “Uh . . . Hurkel . . . I don’t think the hetman knows the paramount is coming. Do you think you should send him word?”

  Chakez cursed and raced to the corral to saddle his horse. Half a mile from the border, he passed the surprised travelers without acknowledging them and whipped his horse. He figured the hetman would be too busy to notice who brought the news, but if he didn’t alert the hetman . . .

  When Yozef led the party into Hertsek’s main square, a glowering Eldor Vandinke awaited with a hastily assembled reception of local leaders, Eldor’s family, and seventy to eighty ragged-looking clan militia, many of whom had served with Brigadier Stent. Yozef judged that many of the armed men were embarrassed either by their hetman thinking he needed armed men to greet Paramount Kolsko or because they perceived their own appearance as shabby compared to the obvious discipline and recognizable clothing of the paramount’s dragoons.

  Yozef dismounted and walked up to Vandinke.

  “You should have properly told me you were coming, Kolsko,” said Vandinke, seething.

  Yozef’s friendly expression didn’t change, but his words were ice-coated and low enough that only the Vandinke hetman could hear. “That’s Paramount Kolsko, or Yozef, if we’re alone and on friendly terms. Which is it to be, Hetman Vandinke?

  “And as far as sending word, I might have, if either of your clan’s semaphore lines were operating. Since they were not, there was concern about serious problems within Vandinke, which compelled me to come see for myself. Naturally, not knowing events here, I was obliged to bring along enough men to handle any situation.”

  “Still . . . Paramount , I would have preferred notice of your coming. You could have sent a rider.” The title exited the hetman’s mouth as if pulled forth reluctantly.

  “Whatever,” said Yozef. “We’re here, and I’m eager to see how the Vandinke clan is faring. Let’s get the men and horses quartered, and then you can explain to me the problems with the semaphore lines.”

  “I’m afraid the hetman isn’t going to bed tonight a happy man,” Kivalian remarked later that evening. They had just enjoyed a meal in the St. Horlof’s Cathedral dining hall, the only facility in the capital capable of feeding more than a hundred persons at once. Yozef had let Abbot Marveks make the arrangements, after Hetman Vandinke had huffed off from daylong meetings and tours. His eldest son said his father felt ill.

  “I think the heir might have been correct that his father was sick,” said Yozef. “However, it might be an illness brought on by the realization that he was no longer the senior authority, even within his own clan. The hetmen agreed to the new structure, and it’s time for Eldor to learn to live with it. Hopefully, not many lessons will be needed.”

  The first lesson had ensued after Eldor’s bumbling excuses about why the semaphore lines were not operational. Yozef had listened without comment for twenty minutes before expressing sympathy for all the lame excuses. Then he told Eldor the paramount’s office was more than willing to help by sending in workers from other clans. Of course, the cost of additional help would have to come from increased Vandinke taxes. Yozef was sure the clan members would not be too upset when they realized the reason for the higher taxes—unless the hetman wanted to pay the costs himself.

  The second lesson involved a visit to a school. When Sissel Morgan led their group into one of the building’s four schoolrooms, the scholastic brother who was teaching turned to look at the group of strangers interrupting the class. Twenty-two smaller faces also turned.

  “Where are the girls?” Morgan demanded of the hetman’s eldest son, Fordvak Vandinke. Eldor had claimed he had other clan business to attend to.

  “Ah . . . the girls attend separate schools. My father believes it inappropriate to mix male and female children in such close contact all day long.”

  “Well, then, take us to the nearest girls’ school.”

  Eight minutes and three hundred yards later, they entered a small, dilapidated, single-room building. A sister had obviously been warned and waited, along with eight frightened girls six to seven years of age.

  “Are these girls from the same area as the boys?” asked Morgan.

  “Yes, uh, and the number is fewer because not all the families are complying with sending daughters to school,” Fordvak replied.

  Morgan, mild-mannered though she was, had turned a lovely shade of rose. A gargling sound implied that her response to the news might be a trifle impolite. Before she could speak, Yozef saved her the effort.

  “I’m sure the hetman will be extremely displeased wh
en he learns no one informed him the requirement that all children attend school is not being carried out. I also note that all these girls are the youngest of the age range required to get schooling. Where are the older girls who can’t read?”

  Let’s see if he starts with “Ah” or “Uh” this time , thought Yozef. Both seem to be common terms in the Vandinke Caedelli dialect .

  “Uh . . . ,” stumbled Fordvak.

  Bingo , thought Yozef. Another score for “Uh.”

  Fordvak shifted his feet uneasily. “Since the older ones didn’t have the earlier years, it was thought the schooling would apply only to those starting at a young age.”

  “Well, that’s simply a misunderstanding,” said Yozef, “and an oversight on my part. As soon as I return to Orosz City, I’ll contact all the other hetmen to clarify that girls between the ages six and ten must have a minimum of four years of schooling, no matter when they start.” He regretted it, but the older girls in this generation would not have the full six-year minimum, numbers he’d come to believe were as far as he could push the issue for now, though he made sure everyone knew the paramount strongly supported education.

  “I’ll include in the message to the hetmen that Vandinke is already implementing this requirement, and since you’ll be the first clan to do so, I’ll send all the clans updates on Vandinke’s progress to aid the others as they do the same. I’ll also ask Sissel Morgan here to be my representative to return to Vandinke in, shall we say, two months, to reassure Hetman Vandinke about how things are progressing.”

  Yozef couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected the hint of a smile twitching the corners of the son’s mouth.

  Hmmm . . . I suspect the heir is going to be a better modern hetman than his father, at least by the standards of His Lordship, Paramount Yozef Kolsko. If true, I wish there were a way to speed the succession along .

  The final lesson came in the afternoon, when Kivalian gave his evaluation of the emergency mustering drill of the capital’s local militia members.

  “Paramount, Hetman,” said Kivalian, addressing the two leaders, “I’ve seen a herd of krykors startled by a predator look more organized. A quarter of the men didn’t bring muskets, another quarter had no ammunition, and a few had neither. We’ll ignore that the city is supposed to have at least a company of militia dragoons ready to move on two hours’ notice, but some of the men don’t even own horses, and a few of the ones they arrived with at the muster point would be better used as dog food.”

  Eldor Vandinke took the Fuomi’s blunt evaluation without comments, though Yozef thought he looked a trifle ill. Maybe it’s dawning on him there’s a new sheriff in town .

  As they rode back to Herstek, Eldor trotted ahead without a word, while his son Fordvak accompanied Yozef.

  “We would like to invite you to the hetman’s estate for evening meal, Paramount Kolsko,” said Fordvak in a normal tone of voice, then lowered the volume so only Yozef could hear. “You have to understand, Paramount, Father is very traditional with the clan’s customs, and not being the ultimate authority in all matters is foreign to his thinking.”

  “I understand, Fordvak.” responded Yozef, “But I trust you to help him see that the future for all the clans, including Vandinke, will be good. However, he will have to accept some inevitable changes, or else your clan will fall behind the others.”

  “Perhaps this is where you could help,” said Fordvak, “if there were more tangible benefits that Father could understand.”

  In other words, bring out some carrots and sheath the stick for a while , thought Yozef.

  Three hours later, Yozef sat next to Eldor as the servants finished setting out a first course of soup, the ubiquitous dark bread, and bowls of butter. He bet himself that the utensils and plates were imported and had cost a Caedellium fortune in coin. Moreover, the estate was the largest hetman’s residence Yozef had seen on Caedellium and one of the most ostentatious.

  The common people of Vandinke weren’t quite living in squalor, but their houses were noticeably poorer looking than most Yozef had seen on Caedellium. At first, he thought it was just the state of the clan’s resources, but after seeing this palace, he suspected this dork was far too over-the-top full of himself and saw his clanspeople’s duty more to him than his to them.

  “Dork Eldor . . . pardon, I slipped into my original language. Dork is a term we used to signify respect. Do you mind if I continue to call you Dork Eldor, and you can call me Yozef?

  The hetman sat up straighter in his chair. “Not at all, Hetman, and should I refer to you as Dork Yozef?”

  “Ah, well, dork is a term of respect, and I’d like your clanspeople to see how much regard I have for you, but it’s a more formal term. Perhaps it’s best if I call you Dork Eldor, and you can call me Yozef, unless it’s a formal occasion where ‘Hetman’ and ‘Paramount’ are more appropriate.”

  “Certainly . . . Yozef.”

  “There,” said Yozef, “now that that’s out of the way, I wanted to talk with you about mining within your province. I know in the past you sent copper ingots to Preddi City for trade off-island. It was never a large source of coin for the clan, but it was steady. You shut down your mines when the Narthani stopped trade, but I’d like to encourage you to reopen the mines and, in fact, look to establishing new ones. I’m not knowledgeable in mining, but the Fuomi will be sending men who will be here in the next few months. I’ve also discussed with Ambassador Saisannin the possibility of agreeing to a guaranteed market for metal ingots. It turns out Caedellium is relatively rich in tin, copper, and zinc, though not so much in silver and gold. I believe it’s safe to assume there will be trade markets for five to ten times as much Caedellium metal now as before.”

  The Vandinke hetman’s eyes narrowed as Yozef talked, and he touched the fingertips of both hands to each other, listening. “Many of our mine workers have moved on to other work,” said Eldor, “and it would take considerable coin to start the mines again. No matter what the Fuomi woman tells you, it’s too big a risk to spend that much coin without certainty of markets.”

  “A reasonable worry, Dork, which is why I am willing to buy all the ingots you can produce for the first year and at a price one-fifth more than what you received before. I will also loan you coin to help start the mines operating again. You can repay me starting the second year.”

  For the first time since arriving in Herstek, Yozef thought the hetman’s eyes showed interest.

  Well, more like greed , Yozef thought. I’ve got his attention diverted from smoldering over loss of independence to collecting gold and silver. Now to reel him in .

  “This sounds very interesting,” said Eldor, “but I’ll have to give it some thought.”

  “Of course, Dork Eldor, but it’s best to decide soon since other clans have ore sites that could be re-opened, and I don’t have enough coin to help them all.”

  I probably do have enough coin, but this dork doesn’t know that, thought Yozef. I’ve just dangled another bauble in front of him by letting him think he can get a jump on the other clans. If Maera’s right, he won’t be able to resist the double payoff—getting richer and crowing over other hetmen.

  “Ah, well, I wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful, so I accept your proposal. I’ll call a meeting of my boyermen and owners of the mine properties to plan the start of mining again as soon as possible. You mentioned copper ingots, but as long as I get the smelters operating again, what about zinc and lead? We mined mainly copper in the past because the market was surer, but we could also mine the other two. I would be pleased to help my men find more work to better support their families.”

  Yeah, I bet you would, now that there’s a guaranteed market. I think you’re venal enough to push it along, but now let’s light a fire .

  “Let’s see how the first year goes,” Yozef replied, “but if Vandinke can produce enough copper ingots, I’ll consider constructing what is called a train line from here to coast ports. Let me describe what
that is.”

  Yozef motioned to Carnigan standing behind him and was handed some writing materials. He used them to illustrate a horse-drawn train pulled on wooden rails with an iron cap. His enhanced memory contained little information on railways, it not being a topic he had read about, but the system he envisioned was similar to one used in Fuomon, according to Kivalian’s and Saisannin’s descriptions. Once the ingot production reached a high enough level, he could connect Vandinke to a line already under construction to haul iron ore from Bultecki to the western provinces, where he planned to take advantage of their extensive coal fields to establish a steel industry. A second line was to run from Orosz City to Preddi City.

  During Yozef’s description of rail lines, Fordvak had noticed Yozef diagramming something for his father. He stood behind their chairs and listened in.

  “That is amazing!” said Fordvak. “If these trains work as you say, the number of ingots we could send to Preddi City would increase many-fold. What? Five? Six?”

  “At least that much. You could improve roads and build more and bigger wagons, but the trains will be far more efficient and faster transportation.”

  The Vandinke hetman’s attention was drawn to two of his boyermen, and Fordvak returned to his seat. Yozef’s thoughts turned inward, as he dwelled on interlocking projects that weren’t all moving along as well as he’d hoped, though better than he’d feared. He’d also seen no reason to share the scope of his plans for industrialization.

  ***

  Yozef didn’t mention to the Vandinkers that the destination of their ingots or ore might not be Preddi City. Only Maera knew he planned to develop trading ports at several more sites on Caedellium. Having Preddi City as the only major harbor was both economically and militarily inadvisable—witness the Narthani abruptly controlling all trade by capturing a single port.