Mobius

by Garon Whited

  “Remember that temptation I talked about?”

  “To killing?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are feeling this temptation now?” Hazir asked. I growled a little and Hazir chuckled. “Life is hard, my friend. Betrayals are part of it.”

  “If you don’t trust him, maybe you should come along. You can keep an eye on him.”

  “I would, but my responsibilities here preclude such a course.”

  “Does the Hall of Ruling pay that well?”

  “It’s a living,” he said, shrugging, “but there are other causes requiring my attention.”

  “Such as?”

  “I cannot say, at the moment, although I feel you would be sympathetic. We will speak of this in time, I feel sure.”

  “I can respect that. If you ever need a job, though…”

  “I shall certainly bear you in mind.”

  Tauta, 32nd Day of Varinskir

  Things have mostly gone well in the valley. We’ve cleared enough land to make plowing practical, so a squad of enterprising, practical-minded ladies figured out how to hitch up a horse and use the thing. I can tell they’re not experienced at this sort of work, but given the culture they grew up in, the fact they’re even willing to try is a telling one. The gender equality I see is on the surface, not down deep in the bone.

  We’ve also had another dozen or so warriors of the female persuasion show up with questions. Leisel is my official deputy and does the talking. It’s more reassuring to them to have a woman explain how things work. It gives the impression I’m more disinterested than I am, although I am pretty disinterested. She handles just about everything of an organizational nature. I just work in mysterious ways my wonders to perform.

  She had a hard time handling Osric, what with him being of higher rank within her caste, but I backed her up. He’s not pleased, but he’s also not arguing.

  So, Osric. After a couple of days on the road, he finally caught up to me in the valley. He didn’t arrive in a happy frame of mind. I gather most of the First don’t get out in the field any too often. When he arrived, the first things he wanted were a meal and a bath and no nonsense about it, please. Sitting at the community table, eating what everyone ate, and bathing in the community bend of the river did not appeal to him.

  Leisel confronted him.

  “This is not Sarashda,” she explained. “You work with us to build something or you go away. What’ll it be? Chopping trees? Plowing? Cooking in the kitchen?”

  “You must be joking!”

  “I am. The kitchen duty rotates. You’ll stir and you’ll scrub. Unless you have another skill. Please tell me you know how to use a plow.”

  “I am a warrior of the First! I lead. I don’t scrub,” he snarled, and reached for his mace.

  I caught his wrist and lifted. We’re about the same height, he and I, but I have an inch more reach and I had him by the wrist. He wound up on his tiptoes, struggling for traction. He almost punched me, but he caught the look in my eye inviting him to try.

  “Osric,” I said, trying for a disappointed tone rather than an annoyed one, “I think you missed something important. My fault, probably, for not riding back with you, but I was in a hurry. So I’m going to explain this without inviting you to pick up a weapon. There is no council of nine in this valley. The usual rules in Sarashda? Forget ’em. I’m the First—singular, not plural. And you may note I strip out of my armor and work.”

  I lowered him and released is wrist.

  “I should have explained more clearly,” I continued, “but you and I were both distracted by Palan. To be fair, this may not be what you signed on for. If you can’t do this, I’ll give you some money for your trouble and send you on your way. If you can do this, bear in mind Leisel is my captain. She is in charge. Not until you defeat her, either. She’s in charge because I trust her to run the place well. Someday, when we have more people and a better infrastructure, we can have elections or contests or whatever. But, right now, we are in the field, not in the city, so unless I say otherwise, what she says, goes.

  “Now, sit down at the table. Eat whatever they put in front of you. Then, when you’re calmer, you and Leisel can talk. Leisel, please come with me.”

  She and I walked away while Osric rubbed his wrist and scowled. Great is the pride of the First, it seems.

  “He’s likely to try and challenge you,” I told her.

  “I know. He’s better than I am.”

  “First thing in the morning, we’re going to start having a warmeet.”

  “Good. We could all use the practice.”

  “Every day.”

  “Every day?”

  “We live on the edge of civilization. There will be bandits and barbarians. We’re all going to practice and learn until we welcome being raided because we take all their stuff.”

  “We?” she repeated.

  “You. Me. Everyone else. Osric, too, if he chooses.”

  “If that’s what you want,” she said, sadly.

  “And Leisel?”

  “Sir?”

  “He favors an overhand swing with his mace. With the enchantment on it, the blow is likely to knock down anyone who tries to block it with a shield. Don’t try to block. Use a sweeping parry to deflect it. He’s also in heavy armor. Dance around him until he’s too tired to fight. Wear him down.”

  Leisel’s face blossomed into a full smile.

  “Don’t underestimate him!” I cautioned. “He’s fast, for a mace-man. He’s stronger than you are and better armored. If he hits you, you’re going down.”

  “Then I best not be hit.”

  “I agree. I hope it won’t come to that.”

  “Why? Because you need him for something?”

  “No, because if he survives challenging you I’ll kill him.”

  “Oh,” she replied, in a tiny voice.

  Fortunately, the two of them haven’t actually had it out. I’m not sure if Leisel is trying to be diplomatic or if Osric is trying to be tolerant. Maybe a bit of both.

  I remembered to ask Leisel about Renata. Leisel went away for a bit and returned with confirmation. Palan used Renata for something other than her fighting skills, which Renata did not appreciate, hence the change in employment. I guess being a refuge isn’t the worst thing for the valley.

  We have several buildings, now, including a granary—well, a storehouse for food, anyway—a smokehouse, another barracks, a kitchen, a pair of latrines, and a roofed-over area for eating, drinking, and general conviviality. Osric seems well-enough behaved. At least he takes “no” for an answer. It may have something to do with being outnumbered about thirty to one.

  The mines are still rocky places, not holes in the ground, but I’ve been working on a chute system for the future. When they dig ore, it’ll come out of the mine and get dumped down the chute to the smelter and smithing works. There’s no sense in carting ore down a switchback, nor in hauling fuel up.

  On the plus side, we have stone blocks to build with. I’ve started work on a foundation for a fortification. It’ll be a tower, at least at first, but every castle started somewhere. My spells have been busily solidifying the ground while I’ve been clearing other places. Bronze and I use one of the carts to haul blocks down at night. Inside my mental study, I’ve drawn up the plans for the tower. I’ll plug these into a stone-shaping spell when I start stacking rocks. In fact, in another few days, I’ll start laying the first course.

  In the meantime, we’ve been enjoying the morning warmeets. There was some grumbling, at first, but I don’t run a warmeet the way they do in Sarashda. We open with some stretching, some cardio, then some light resistance training—push-ups, sit-ups, those sorts of things—and I keep thinking of new things to add to the obstacle course. Running over the tops of half-buried posts is my favorite, but the rope climb, vine swing, balance beam, and the Pit—jump down into a ditch, climb out the far side—are all I’ve got so far.

  Today, during practice, I introdu
ced a new wrinkle during a sparring session. I squared off with Shelly, but we did it on top of the uneven poles. I’ve done this before. She hasn’t. She didn’t do badly. Welcome to my exercise for coping with uneven footing!

  I haven’t had one—not one!—person complain about how this is pointless or stupid. Unlike some knights I could mention, no one has had to get their ankles tied together and crawl across the practice field. I’m not sure if they get why I’m doing these things or if they’re simply trusting me to have a point to it all.

  Osric, I note, has not participated. He does watch, but he clearly does not understand why I’m doing it. I suspect he also views it all as beneath him, but it’s possible he just doesn’t want to risk looking stupid. If you’re not prepared to look stupid, you’re not prepared to learn.

  Leisel, on the other hand, is stepping up to this whole leadership thing and swinging for the fences. She’s doing a fair job of organizing everyone and getting things done, but she does need the occasional nudge. I help out by doing whatever I can. The blacksmith in Spogeyzer, for example, makes all the usual metalwork, but there didn’t used to be such a demand for his services. Likewise, other villages and towns up to and including Sarashda have a variety of goods we need.

  I’ve started bringing the cart with me every time I leave. If I don’t, Bronze looks like a four-legged rummage sale on the way back. We haul more, but more slowly. If we go at full speed, the wooden axles catch fire.

  My shopping trips help by providing things we can’t yet make, of course, but by running the errands myself, it enhances her position. I’m doing the fetching, she’s doing the ordering. People don’t seem willing to argue with her. At least, if someone has, Leisel settled it without bringing it to my attention.

  She also decided to set up watchposts along the approaches to the valley. There are two good ways in. One is my road leading east, toward Spogeyzer. A watchpost along there is easy. We simply set up a guard position on the western end of the bridge.

  I would have thought the other way into the valley was to the northeast, following the creek upstream, but I was mistaken. Once above the waterfall, it’s a mountain stream and hard to follow, especially where it emerges from a narrow cut in the rocks. The other end of the stream, at the southwestern end of the valley, isn’t much better. It has a narrow channel and goes down a couple of small waterfalls—six feet or less for each of them. I suppose someone could climb it, but you could say that about any random direction. At least now I know why there are no fish in the water. Salmon would have a hard time getting up those.

  Instead, the other easy way into the valley is overland, along the western edge. It’s a forested rise, almost a ridge between two rocky prominences. The slope is an annoying one, not steep enough to be a climb, but too steep to be a hike. With all the trees and vines, it’s not hard to go up and down, but I’d hate to try it with cavalry. Putting watchposts there involves limited sight lines. Fortunately, those rocky prominences have some good nesting spots for sentries.

  I didn’t like it. The jungle-like forest provided good cover for people on foot, and nothing else was going up or down the hill. Sentries who can’t see are better known as targets.

  One night, I cleared a line along the top of the hill. We needed the lumber, anyway, to build the sawmill. Bronze helped me drag it all down to the village. I also laid a line of power along the cleared area, sending it down under the dirt and calling for stone. Give it another couple of weeks and we’ll have a natural-looking rock wall there. Anybody who approaches will be at least momentarily stopped and in a clearly visible position.

  I am amused, however, at the signaling devices. They are ziggurats of dry wood, each stick wrapped in vines and dry pine needles, and the whole thing covered in canvas. Any flame will light the whole arrangement and either smoke or flame will be visible for miles. The wooden watchtower by the barracks will see it and sound an alarm.

  I’m torn. If the alarm sounds, it means we have a potentially-lethal problem. On the other hand, I get to shout, “The beacons are lit!” and ride out to whoever calls for aid.

  Tauta, 23rd Day of Kannaskir

  We’ve got ourselves a nice routine going on. First thing in the morning, we have our wake-up run and workout, followed by training and some mutual murder attempts with wooden sticks. Then there are civic improvements, farm work, making and mending, hunting parties—a ton of stuff to build, maintain, and expand on a thriving little village. The first of the week is always a day off, devoted mostly to recuperating and/or light work. We have a village party in the evening, complete with music. Several of the ladies know how to play an instrument, although the occupation of musician is clearly another social group. We’ve mostly whittled woodwinds and a percussion section, anyway, so we’re hardly an orchestra. Since there is music, there is also dancing, although it’s more group dancing than individual dancing. I get asked a lot, but I’m not much of a dancer.

  I notice Osric is getting asked to dance, as well.

  He’s loosening up, but he’s spent a lot of time being near the top of the totem pole. It’s hard for him to accept he’s just plain folks, now. We had a little talk about it and I admitted there might be a more formal hierarchy, later, but out in the wilderness it would be best to do what was necessary. He promised to think about it.

  As part of the routine, I find I’ve been co-opted into the roles of disciplinarian, instructor, and training dummy. Leisel keeps sending anyone who gets too confident in her skills to me. They learn something new, every time, but they usually limp away with a smaller ego, too. I also discovered the locals do not have a scientific system of unarmed combat, which rapidly turned into a class on unarmed personal defense. They’ve already got good grounding in a variety of killing methods, as well as a willingness to hurt other people, so they’re picking things up quickly.

  Other things developing quickly include Renata. I finally met her and could understand why Palan was determined to recover her. All the lady warriors have a certain beauty to them that comes with being strong and healthy. It’s the glow of a vital, energetic body. Some are prettier than others, however, and Renata—based only on her appearance—belonged in the caste of courtesans. As a warrior, she’s medium-good, but most people wouldn’t believe she was a fighter.

  The other reason Palan—and the whole House of Sarcana, presumably—wants her back is the fact she’s pregnant. She’s not married—she wasn’t married to him even when he was alive—but she’s carrying his child. This is an awkward situation in most other cultures, but here? The way it should run is this: She works for him, so she provides him with a child. Since he’s the higher-class individual, it’s his child, although she might be tasked with caring for it. If she leaves his employ, she leaves the child.

  What is less clear is what happens when she discovers she’s pregnant and flees. Under the local laws, it’s not a child until it’s born. According to the priests, the soul enters the body of a child with its first breath, so until then, there’s only the anticipation of a child, which the gods may or may not permit. Therefore, in theory, Renata was free to quit and go wherever she liked, with the understanding she would have a warrior-class child by herself—fatherless. This isn’t necessarily a mark against a person, but it’s unlikely they’ll have a high station. However, Palan obviously wanted her back. Did he know she was pregnant? Or did he simply miss his bedwarmer? Reluctant bedwarmer, I should say, since Renata made it abundantly clear to me she would have gone with Leisel no matter what the circumstances.

  When I told her what happened to Palan, her smile was disturbing. I think the word I want it “predatory.” She seems happier, though.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever understand women. No, I take that back. I’m sure I’ll never understand women.

  On the subject of predators, though, I had a rather nerve-wracking moment when I came out of my shower stall after sunset. The local version of a mountain lion isn’t much different from the ones I recall elsewhe
re. This one must have tracked me down and lain in wait until I came out of my showerhouse. It sprang from up near the top of the waterfall and landed on me as I bent over to pick up my underwear. Bronze gave me an instant’s warning, but we were both surprised.

  Large cats want to kill me. Smaller cats panic. I still don’t know why.

  While I was somewhat surprised, the big cat was even more surprised. It pounced, slamming us both bodily to the ground. It grabbed me by the neck and raked me with claws. I reached behind my head and raked it with mine, pulling large pieces of its head away. I got better. It did not. I soaked up the blood, cleaned up, dressed, and Bronze carried it back to camp for me. It made a sizable addition to the next day’s stewpot.

  The cat carcass went over surprisingly well, both in the pot and among the citizens. I guess no one likes the idea of living next door to a mountain lion. As a result, I took advantage of the surge in morale to get some help laying stones. My tower-ish building is now a wall, and a sizable one at that. Naturally, it’s not a uniform height. Part of it is stairs leading up to the top. Tonight I’ll lay some crossbeams and stack stones for stairs inside, then complete the first-floor wall. With those in place, I can start on the second floor in the same manner. Eventually, the wooden crossbeams and flooring will probably go. A stone floor atop arched ceilings is doable, as long as the tower isn’t too wide. Then again, if I put a central pillar in and have stairs around it—or in it—while the rooms surround it…

  Later. Possibly much later. Right now, I only want a stone wall available for people to use as a defense.

  We also have a few craftsmen interested in our valley. I’ve pestered the smith in Spogeyzer enough, and paid people in Sarashda to spread the word, so members of the crafting classes have heard and come to look. I’ve also taken a couple of prospectors up into the mountains to look at the sites. They’re generally a bit confused about the stone blocks stacked all around, but I’m in a position to not answer questions. I think we’re close to making a deal on the iron mine, at least.