“Do I detect a ‘but’ in that explanation and did it start with the word ostensibly?”
“Oh,” said Maera. “I don’t doubt he regrets delays of his yearly tour, but I suspect a major contributing factor is to meet with you.”
She could feel the muscles in his arm tighten.
“Any idea why he wants to meet?”
“Not specifically,” she replied. “I got news of the visit in a letter from him today, and he only mentioned seeing you in passing. Most of the letter consisted of updates on the family and questions about the baby. However, with what’s been happening, I know Father well enough to suspect two topics he wants to talk with you about.”
“Let me guess one of them—our moving to Caernford.”
“When we married, you did tell him you’d think about it,” Maera said.
“I did, and I have, and I’m still happy living here. Here’s where I’ve lived since coming to Any . . . Caedellium. All my projects are here, my friends, the university . . .”
Oh, Christ, Yozef thought, am I whining? I hate whining, and here I am doing it. Is it because I think the move to Caernford is inevitable? The move is logical, but it would put me more into the middle of clan and island affairs. Haven’t I done enough for them?
And I need to watch what comes out of my mouth! I started to say “coming to Anyar,” instead of “coming to Caedellium.” Some people might pass it off as a slip of the tongue, but Maera’s liable to remember and eventually begin to suspect the truth.
“All right,” he said, sighing in resignation. “I promise I’ll give it more thought. What’s the other thing you think your father wants to see me about?”
“I’m afraid it’s just as difficult for you as the first one. He’ll want you to become more involved in planning what to do about the Narthani.”
Yozef didn’t react this time. Although he’d asked the question, he was already sure he knew the answer. He also didn’t fool himself about one reason for his reticence to move to Caernford: it would put him in the middle of planning and people looking to him for answers.
* * *
Culich Keelan and Vortig Luwis arrived five days later in a carriage accompanied by twenty escorts. Maera told Yozef her father had given up trying to travel with fewer guards. With her mother, his daughters, Luwis and Kennrick, and others—more than he cared to count—nagging about his safety, he accepted the inevitable.
Yozef was in the cannon foundry when Carnigan walked in. The clue to his presence was when he filled the open doorway and cut off outside light.
“Yozef, Abbot Beynom asked me to let you know the hetman arrived. Maera’s already headed there to see her father, and you’re to come for evening meal at the Beynoms’ house.”
Yozef opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what, but he looked at an empty door. Carnigan, his task complete and evidently having nothing else to say at the moment, had departed. Yozef went to the door in time to see Carnigan heading for Abersford, instead of back to the abbey.
I’ll bet he’s bee-lining for the Snarling Graeko to sneak in an ale before returning to work.
* * *
Evening meal was a pleasant occasion, to Yozef’s relief. Culich was staying with the Beynoms, and neither Culich nor Vortig Luwis broached any subject related to Yozef’s moving to Caernford or taking on an expanded role. Yozef found it so enjoyable that the return to reality felt all the more jarring when, as he and Maera departed for home, Culich, the friendly father-in-law, turned back into Hetman Keelan.
“Yozef, Vortig and I will meet with you tomorrow after morning meal, as soon as you can get to the abbey.”
There being no evident acknowledgment expected or any objection anticipated, Culich turned to continue a conversation with Diera. Maera tugged on her husband’s arm to lead him away before he thought of something to say.
“Just accept it, Yozef,” she said, when they were out of hearing. “You’re going to have to meet with him, so you might as well get it over with. At least, you can confirm for him that we’ll be in Caernford for the baby’s birth, which means I’ll need to go to wait for it.”
They spoke little until halfway home, when Yozef said, “What do you think I should tell him when he brings up the two topics you predicted?”
“I only know what I would do. I’m sure you are even better aware than the rest of us of the advantages for your projects to be in Caernford, instead of Abersford. As for the other topic, that’s something you have to decide for yourself. I’ve come to terms with knowing you’re different from other men. What seems best to others might not be to you, and I trust your judgment.”
He reached over and laid his hand on hers. “Thank you, Maera. It means a lot to me to have your support when I make decisions I know you don’t agree with. I may not always say it, but I appreciate how exasperating I can be.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” she said, laughing. “But that’s part of what makes being married to you such an adventure.”
The sun had risen well into the mid-morning sky when Yozef and Maera reached the abbey the next day. Yozef had found reasons to delay, a bit of deliberate passive resistance against the hetman’s preemptory directive to meet immediately after morning meal. His pleasure at his self-acknowledged petty gesture was spoiled when Culich took no apparent notice. Compensating for his disappointment was Culich’s surprise that Maera accompanied Yozef, with the obvious intent to sit in on the meeting. Not that Culich minded his daughter’s presence. She had attended boyermen meetings for years as his scribe, and Culich assumed she would be his ally in the discussion to come. He was to be disappointed.
“Let’s get started,” said Culich, sitting in one of three straight-backed, armed wooden chairs arranged facing one another in a small meeting room. Vortig Luwis followed suit, as did Yozef and Maera, after he pulled a fourth chair from against a wall for her.
“Yozef, I’m not one for meaningless preambles when everyone knows the real purposes of a meeting,” said Culich, in a tone attuned to reasonable people having a reasonable discussion. “It’s time for you to move to Caernford. Your work here has outgrown Abersford, and we need you closer to the clan center.”
“I’m aware of the arguments, Hetman, but I am still considering the possibility and will be the final judge of whether such a move is in mine and my wife’s best interests.” Yozef didn’t know for certain what his decision would be, but he wanted to lay out that it would be his decision, although Maera’s input and desires would be part of the process. His use of “Hetman,” instead of “Culich,” was a flag signaling his intent.
Culich’s eyes flickered imperceptibly, and Luwis stiffened.
“I realize this, Yozef. However, I would ask you to tell me the advantages of staying in Abersford for expanding your current projects, developing new ones, starting up this university of yours, and contributing to the defense of your family, the Keelan Clan, and all of Caedellium against the Narthani. Can you do that? If you can and are convincing, I won’t bother you again on the topic.”
My God, he’s ruthless, thought Yozef, both amused and resentful, resorting to logic and reason. He knows as well as I that there are no such arguments, and that I don’t want the move simply because I don’t want to leave my relatively sheltered life in Abersford.
“First, let me say that Maera and I have talked, and we’re agreed that soon she will go to Caernford,” Yozef replied, delaying an answer. “The baby’s still a few months away, but we think she shouldn’t delay the travel. We agreed the child would be born in the clan capital, and we will abide by that commitment.”
He paused to let the prospective grandfather express pleasure at the news and make a comment to Luwis about preparing an announcement. Maera, bless her heart, managed several minutes of chitchat to give Yozef more time. When the delay timed out and heads turned back to Yozef, what had solidified in his mind was to be honest.
“Culich,” he said, starting off with the familiar address
, “everything you say is rational. My problem is that I simply don’t want to make the move, not permanently. Much of the reason is that I view the Abersford area as my home. I was already taken from one home and cast here on Caedellium. It took two years before I could accept Abersford as my new home.
“Now, you, and yes, logic, want me to uproot from this home and start again somewhere else. While I know it sounds childish, part of me wants to rail against the sense of unfairness. Haven’t I had enough change for one lifetime? Is it too much to ask to live quietly where I choose?”
Luwis stirred in his chair, his jaw clenched, and Yozef felt certain he was about to storm at Yozef’s attitude. By comparison, Culich sat calmly, a sympathetic expression softening his face.
“Alas, Yozef, would that the world lets us live the lives we want. In my youth, I wanted to be a horse breeder and trainer, which was impossible once my father chose me to be the next hetman. Then, and to this day, what I would like to do is work to provide for a life of security and peace for all my clanspeople. Yet I’ve always known there was more to it than my personal desires. Even before the Narthani threat, I spent most of my time dealing with other hetmen and clans, petty conflicts within Keelan, boyermen focused on their own districts and not always on the good of the entire clan, and on and on. Then there’s the Narthani. Never in my worst imaginings of what it would be like to be hetman did I conceive of fighting battles such as at Moreland City or the level of threat presented by the Narthani. What you call an existential threat.
“In life, we often must do what is necessary, irrespective of our own wishes. I have done what I perceived to be necessary, and this is a reconciliation you’ll have to come to for yourself.”
Yozef felt afraid. Not like during the fight in the courtyard at St. Sidryn’s or waiting to ambush the Eywellese at Moreland City, but more of being forced to take a step in life that he dreaded.
“It’s not just my moving to Caernford that you want, Culich, is it?”
“No, Yozef, it’s not. You know things. Things we don’t know here in Caedellium or ways of thinking we’re not familiar with. You’ve proved that over and over. Not just the ether, the kerosene, and all the other innovations. The advice you gave at St. Sidryn’s and Moreland City and the insights you’ve shared with Abbot Sistian and me on likely actions of the Narthani. We need these from you.”
“Culich, I’m not the source of all knowledge. I could tell you things, give opinions and advice that might be wrong, and people would die because of my errors.”
“How is that different from what many do?” rejoined Culich. “Life is acting. That our actions sometimes have tragic consequences is simply the way life is. To not act, to not give advice, is to act by inaction. You don’t think of yourself as a leader, but what is a leader?”
“I see a leader as someone at the front of whatever is happening. Someone others want to follow.”
“Those are reasonable descriptions of some leaders, though not all. Rhaedri Brison can be called a leader of theophists, yet he holds no position of authority over anyone. Diera Beynom is a leader of medicants, because of reputation and the fact that other medicants place great emphasis on her opinions. Gynfor Moreland was not a great leader, though he was hetman of his clan. His people followed him because of his position, not because of their regard. You are a leader whether you want to be or not, because your past actions have proved to be worth following or considering. Whether you call yourself a leader or not is irrelevant.”
“What if some advice I give leads to disaster?”
“It could happen. Still, others are required to evaluate what they hear and make their own decisions. After all, advice is just that, not commandments. You also have to ask yourself the cost of not giving advice. Answer me this honestly, Yozef. What would have happened at St. Sidryn’s if you hadn’t suggested letting the Buldorians into the courtyard?”
Yozef hesitated to say what he knew would support Culich’s arguments. Silence dragged on, as the other three waited and watched. Finally and reluctantly, Yozef replied, “Denes believed there was no way to defend the abbey with the number of men they had. The Buldorians would have come over the walls, killed most of the people, enslaved the rest, and burned the abbey.”
“But they didn’t,” said Culich, “because you took the risk of giving an opinion.”
“It could have been the wrong thing to advise,” complained Yozef.
“Yes, it could, but it wasn’t. In the same manner, what would have happened if you’d been silent at Moreland City?”
Yozef didn’t say anything. The answer was obvious. He felt depressed that he couldn’t think of a single argument that wasn’t selfish and felt angry that he couldn’t be selfish.
“What do you expect of me?” asked Yozef, his manner and tone suggesting defeat.
Culich did his best not to smile. He sensed he was going to get his way and Yozef would concede in doing what Culich thought he should be willing to do without convincing.
“Besides moving to Caernford,” said Culich, “we need every bit of advice you can muster up on options in dealing with the Narthani. You’ve already shown you have priceless advice, with what you did at St. Sidryn’s and Moreland City. What more can you do?”
“Culich, I’m not a military genius of any kind. I don’t know why I advised what I did those times. My only experience has been reading books on military history and playing some games of my people that involve tactics and strategy.”
Luwis grunted, and Culich smiled. “There you go, Yozef. Just when you try to tell us what you don’t know, you pull new words out of the air. Tactics. Strategy. I sense these are important, but what do they mean?”
“Sorry, Culich,” said Yozef. “Once again, whenever I can’t find a Caedelli word, I automatically fall back on my own language, English, without thinking.
“In a conflict, like we experienced when the Narthani invaded Moreland, strategy is the overall goal, while tactics are the details of how we achieve the goal. We wanted to drive the Narthani back: that was the strategy. How we did it was the tactics—pretending a general assault on the center of their line, ambushing the Eywellese, and attacking the Narthani flank.
“By another definition, strategy is concerned with the future, what you want to happen, and tactics involve the present, what you do at the moment to achieve the strategy.”
“Then,” said Luwis thoughtfully, “by those definitions, when the Buldorians attacked St. Sidryn’s, letting them inside the abbey walls was the tactic to accomplish the objective of defending the abbey? And what you did in both instances was advise on tactics, since the strategies were obvious. Is that how you see it, Yozef?”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s how it seems,” Yozef said hesitantly.
“Then that’s what we need from you,” said Culich. “Let us assume that the strategy is to stop the Narthani from absorbing any more clans. How do we do that? Vigorous defense of the existing border between the Narthani and the free clans? Attack the Narthani, even if they don’t move first? What would be the best ways to stop the Narthani?”
Luwis shook his head. “The words and definitions seem obvious, Culich, but it doesn’t help us understand how Yozef comes up with the specific ideas, or tactics, as he calls them. I agree that we need his advice, but he can’t be everywhere, and I have been around him enough to sense he doesn’t believe himself infallible. We need others, including you and me, to better evaluate his ideas and come up with those of our own.”
“Yes, Vortig, though I wonder if what he describes as ‘tactics’ is something that our people would learn from experience. Consider Moreland City. If we had attacked the Narthani line directly, without forewarning of the consequences, we would have learned not to do it again. We would have learned a tactic: don’t attack the Narthani strength. The problem is, the learning experience would have been exceedingly painful. What Yozef did was state a principle: don’t attack a strong point.”
“Or the c
omplementary statement,” said Vortig. “If you must attack, do it at a weak point. Yet these seem obvious things to do or avoid.”
“True,” said Culich, “in hindsight. We will, unfortunately, gain experience in this magnitude of fighting. Yet experience can be a hard taskmaster.
“Yozef, you told me before that you had read about the history of military conflicts and that was where you might have gained insights that helped you give advice. Are there general principles of tactics you can teach?”
Yozef pondered the question. As a teenager and into undergraduate college, he had been part of gamester groups. They would argue for hours over details of tactics, in their naiveté pretending to be experts. He felt embarrassed to remember self-important arguments over which of three famous military treatises was the most influential: Jomini’s The Art of War, Clausewitz’s On War, or Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.
An idea rose to Yozef’s consciousness. The way Culich explained it, maybe there was a way he could help.
“You mean help those commanding in the field to flatten their learning curve?”
Culich grimaced, and Luwis clucked disgustedly.
“Yozef . . . ,” said Culich, with feigned patience.
“Oh, sorry,” said Yozef. “Ah . . . what I meant to say is that you’re asking if I can remember basic principles of battles, then maybe the clansmen can avoid some of the worst errors?”
“Yes,” said Luwis. “What you advised us at Moreland City now seems to me mostly obvious, though I wouldn’t have thought of it at the time. We need to get our minds thinking differently.”
“To get you . . . ,” Yozef stopped himself before he said kick-started. “. . . ah, pointed in the right direction?”
“That’s a way to put it, Yozef. Can you help? Can you point us in the right direction?”
“I’ll try to remember what I can and write it down,” said Yozef. “I can’t guarantee how complete it will be, and for God’s sake, don’t assume it’s authoritative. At best, it will be general principles.” At the same time, he wondered exactly how much he would remember. It would be the first time he’d tried to use his enhanced recall for extensive non-science writings. Even if he could image entire works in his mind, he hadn’t yet dared attempt complete books or even chapters. After all, a normal person couldn’t do such things. Besides, how would the Caedelli understand whole texts on subjects that had no foundation in this world? Even with military theory, too much that didn’t fit this world would seep through. He would have to give it careful thought and summarize parts that would be understandable and acceptable on Anyar.
Heavier Than a Mountain (Destiny's Crucible Book 3) Page 12
