At first, Yozef wasn’t sure he knew what the clerk was saying. When he didn’t respond after a few moments, the clerk looked up, annoyed.
“Sorry,” Yozef said. “I’m new to Caedellium and not familiar with the laws and customs. Do you mean this land doesn’t belong to anyone?”
“It belongs to the clan until someone registers its use and continues that use,” the clerk said in a tone implying, “As any dolt knows.”
“So … I don’t have to buy the land?”
“You can’t buy the land, because it belongs to the clan. If no one else is using the land, you can try to make something of it. If you do, then the land is yours as long as it’s being used by you or your heirs. The same applies to anyone you might sell the land to.” You, double dolt, being unspoken.
It was logical, once he thought about it. The island was still underpopulated for its resources. The system worked well now because as the population grew, people could expand into empty land that the government, the clan, or whatever, kept in trust until that time. It might work well until all usable land was taken up, and then they’d have a problem adjusting to a permanent ownership system.
“In that case, I’d like to register to use these two parcels of land.”
The clerk opened a drawer and pulled out two forms.
I’ll be damned. Honest to God forms. God knows how far I am from Earth and still forms!
It was a piece of paper with print and lines and boxes to fill in. Yozef had read printed books at the abbey but had assumed they were all imported. The form the clerk handed him had obviously been printed here on the island, since some of the information asked for was specific to Caedellium. It wasn’t a long form, but one section asked about the intentions for the property. He wrote “to build a house” for the parcel at the small cove and “mining” for the inlet parcel. The clerk took both forms and, to Yozef’s surprise, didn’t ask the two obvious questions: “Why would anyone build a house on useless land where there are no roads?” and “Why would you be mining on beaches and offshore rocks?” Evidently, once the form was filled in, the bureaucratic attention span ended there, just as on Earth.
Yozef filled out the forms, signed them, and handed them back to the clerk, who cautioned, “Be sure to place stone markers with the parcel number chiseled in them. The borders you specified are straight enough to need markers only at the corners and shoreline. You will need to have the local registrar agent inspect the sites and the markers in the next three months to confirm the marker locations.”
With those final instructions, the clerk counter-signed and stamped the form with a seal, collected twenty krun per parcel, informed Yozef that a local magistrate would check on the requirements for usage in a year, and gave Yozef a “deed” spelling out the exact locations and condition. Yozef walked out of the office with the deeds secured in his satchel, the proud owner of two parcels, as long as he worked or used the land.
The Anyar sun was still high enough in the clear sky for Yozef to estimate he had five to six hours of daylight left. Based on his partial tour of the town and some directions given by the registrar clerk, he visited shops and bought a backpack, several vials of red and blue ink, some bread and cheese, two comfortable pairs of shoes for everyday wear, and a flagon of wine. He packed it all and headed back to Abersford, walking. The wagon was going back the next day, but he didn’t want to wait. He looked forward to the walk back, so he could see the countryside from a level, non-bouncing position. His rear appreciated the plan.
The fifteen miles took him six hours. By the time he got home, the last light had faded, travel complaints had long ago shifted from his butt to his feet, and the bread, the cheese, and the wine were only memories.
Chapter 25: Ignition
An Abbey Burns
Musfar Adalan chafed while waiting for word from his cousin Adel, who’d led the men ashore on their first mainland Caedellium raid. He understood that his place was to remain with the seven ships anchoring offshore. The first raid had been an exception, but his days of always leading from the front were over. His responsibility was to keep control of the ships and respond if the raid went badly. He didn’t doubt his men understood this, though the emotional part of him wanted to be ashore, leading his men, as when he was younger.
Their first raid on the fishing village on the archipelago of small islands making up the Seaborn Province to the northwest of Caedellium had gone smoothly, but this was different. Seaborn was isolated, sparsely populated, and unsuspecting. This time, the target was an abbey complex in Pewitt Province, less than a hundred sea miles from Seaborn. There was always the chance that word of the Seaborn raid had reached the main island, and his men would walk into prepared defenses. Pewitt was also more populated, meaning help could come faster if they were warned.
The Narthani had been their usual annoying selves, making arrogant assurances their information about the Pewitt abbey was accurate. Musfar knew they were sincere and respected the competence of the Narthani pigs, but sending men ashore was nothing to take lightly, especially since most of the men were from his own clan. Many were blood relatives, one of whom Musfar could see in the longboat, rowing back from the shore. Kiltar Adalan was his eighteen-year-old nephew, the son of one of his many younger brothers. This was Kiltar’s first action, and he served as Adel’s aide and runner, meaning the youth would be bringing word on the progress of the raid.
The longboat rowers stowed their oars and secured the boat against the ship’s hull. Kiltar raced up the rope ladder as only an eighteen-year-old could, and Musfar smiled at the memories of when he could do the same.
“Uncle . . . er . . . Captain,” stumbled Kiltar, “I’m to report the raid went off as planned. The abbey is ours, and the raiding party is finishing looting and setting the abbey afire. Sub-Captain Adalan says it will take several boat trips to move everything to the ships.”
While Musfar welcomed the oral report, he already knew the raid had gone well. The boat delivering Kiltar and Adel’s message was piled with sacks and boxes he assumed were plunder, and crewmen busied lifting a dozen bound Caedelli aboard ship. Eight were young women and the rest children between three and seven years. All would be slaves, either kept by officers as part of their shares or sent to slave markets. None would ever set foot on their home soil again.
“Casualties?” asked Musfar.
“Three dead,” Kiltar reported, “and seven wounded, one severe. Sub-Captain Adalan says they will be on the next boat out.”
“Good report, Kiltar.” Musfar slapped his nephew on the back. “Get your boat unloaded and back to the shore with you. Tell Sub-Captain Adalan I’ll move around the cape and closer to shore to speed up the transfers. Off with you now.”
Kiltar vanished over the side, shouting at the crewman to hurry with unloading.
The boy was full of himself now and bursting with energy, but he’d learn it wouldn’t always be this easy. Adel would look after him until he had enough experience to keep a clear head.
Musfar turned to a signalman standing nearby. “Host signal flags for all ships to follow us.” The raiding party had put ashore two miles around a rocky cape hiding the ships, while men moved overland to surprise the abbey. Concealment was no longer necessary.
He next turned to a senior sailor in charge of cargo. “Get the prisoners secure in the lower hold, and remind the men to leave the women alone for now. There’ll be time for them later when we’re loaded and heading back to Preddi waters.” Women destined for the slave markets would bring higher prices if pregnant, and during the voyage home, the ships’ crews would do their best to bring about that condition.
Well, well, Musfar mused to himself. The Narthani information was good, again. Maybe this is all going to work out as well as I hoped. Whatever the Narthani plans for Caedellium, he needed to sail in their wake until it was time to leave. Of course, that was the problem—when to leave.
Boyermen Meeting, Caernford, Keelan Province
Culich pulled out a paper leaf with a neat outline prepared by Maera. “Major item today is the reports of attacks on Caedellium coasts. So far, we know a Seaborn village and a Pewitt abbey were sacked by seagoing raiders. There’s no confirmation, though evidence points to Buldorians. They come in on five to ten ships, land several hundred men, loot the village, abbey, or both, and take prisoners—usually women and children—undoubtedly to be sold as slaves. They then burn everything they can and are gone before help can arrive. St. Bodwydell’s Abbey in Pewitt was burned to the ground, along with the scholasticum and library, and all brothers and sisters killed, as well as several hundred villagers who initially tried to fight and then surrendered.”
Cries of shock and anger rose from the Keelan boyermen before Culich was halfway through the report.
“There have also been sightings of Eywellese and Selfcellese encroaching into Stent and Moreland Provinces, and similar reports from our Dornfeld district bordering Eywell. Sometimes it’s only a few men, but one incursion involved several hundred Eywellese into Moreland. As soon as trespassers are discovered and locals gather, they ride back to their own provinces. So far, there’s been no major fighting, although several small skirmishes happened in Moreland.
“There are also unconfirmed reports of small numbers of unknown men spotted in the ridges above the Dillagon pass.” The pass led from the main part of Keelan through the Blythrim Mountains to the Dornfeld district on the shore of the Gulf of Witlow and opposite Preddi Province across the gulf.
“How about the Narthani?” asked the Yorm district boyerman.
“Nothing so far,” said Vortig Luwis, Culich’s military advisor, if the clan had had such a title, “but does anyone think the Eywellese and the Selfcellese would be doing this without the knowledge of the Narthani?”
“Luwis is right,” said Culich. “This is all but certain under the Narthani.”
“And similar with the seaborne raids,” said Luwis. “As with the land incursions, it has to be with Narthani knowledge and planning. The Buldorians wouldn’t dare dip their toes into what the Narthani consider their waters unless the Narthani approved.”
“And worse,” said Culich, “the Narthani may think their control of Selfcell and Eywell is firm enough that this is the first step toward other provinces.”
The expressions around the room confirmed that most of the boyermen had had the same thoughts.
“Then what are we to do?” grated the Wycoff District boyerman.
“That’s what we’re here to discuss today,” said Culich. “For one thing, we need to increase patrols in the northern districts and the Dornfeld-Nylamir pass. I’ve also asked Vortig Luwis to look into setting up coastal watch stations to catch signs of Buldorian ships.”
“While that’s all well and good,” said the Nylamir boyerman, “we already have a good third of our men on such patrols. What about crops, trades?”
“Believe me, I understand your concern.” Culich went to the wall with a map of Keelan and the neighboring provinces. “You can see the problem. We have three coasts, as well as our border with Eywell. The coasts are the most vulnerable. I believe we can rule out raids along the Funwir Coast in eastern Keelan. The only coastal settlement is the district seat. The population size and the terrain make it a difficult target. Plus, it’s protected by offshore shoals at that part of the entrance to the Gulf of Normot.
“Dornfeld is the only Keelan settlement on the western coast, across from Preddi on the Gulf of Witlow. Thankfully, Dornfeld’s natural defenses make it an unlikely target, at least for now. More likely is our southern coast. There are several villages and two abbeys the Buldorians may see as attractive targets.
“As far as land incursions, there are the Dornfeld and Nylamir districts bordering Eywell Province. The more central districts are in no immediate danger, but they’ll have to provide assistance to Dornfeld and Nylamir.”
Culich continued, “Those not in immediate danger must worry about your own harvests and trades, but that’s the price to be paid in helping fellow clansmen. Vortig and I have discussed this, and districts will contribute about equal percentages of their men to the patrols. Those not in immediate danger are to help those who are. We’ll have to work out something where distances to patrol areas require too much travel. I’ll want all of your input, but in some cases it may involve relays. For example, if Elywin contributes to Dornfeld patrols, then men from Brums might help with harvests or other major work in Elywin. As I say, we’ll work out the details.
“The rotation of men to those districts in our northwest borders will continue from the other districts. We’ve had no major incidents in Keelan, but let’s not relax our vigilance. I also expect each of you to maintain the training programs for men of fighting age and condition.” He stopped when the last words brought several frowns. “I assure you, I appreciate how this affects your districts by having men more and more occupied away from their normal work, but you’re all aware it’s something we have to tolerate in case the Narthani turn our way. We have to assume they have spies in Keelan, and maybe our preparedness might even discourage them from raiding us.”
This comment brought nods of agreement, though no less unhappiness with what was necessary.
Discussion. Objections. Digressions. On and on, it continued for three hours until every person was finished with his input, and all agreed to the general plan. It took two hours more than Culich thought necessary. He would have preferred to cut off the discussion and just tell the boyermen, “This is the way it will be,” but part of their loyalty to his family was due to believing the hetman valued their input.
Finally, it was the Shamir boyerman who restated the paramount question: “Is this or is it not part of a Narthani move on other provinces?”
“Some of the other hetmen believe Moreland the likeliest target, though there’s no way to be sure. I suspect Moreland myself, since this is where most incursions are happening and has involved the largest numbers of men.”
Culich rose and walked to the Caedellium map on the wall. “Look at the map. Taking Moreland would be a dagger into the heart of the island, and all other provinces would be in danger.”
“That could be a feint,” argued the worried Yorm District boyerman. “With their navy, they could attack anywhere.”
“True,” Culich allowed, “but we can only do what we can do. We all realize that if there’s a major Narthani move on other provinces, we’ll need all the clans involved. However, as you know, getting clans to work together is problematic at best.”
“More like trying to scale an unclimbable mountain,” said a disgusted Yorm.
There was general laughter, though not of humor—rather, laughter at a task with little probability of success.
“Keelan is in better shape than many other clans,” said Culich, “thanks to our alliance with Mittack and Gwillamer. I’ve kept you aware of our discussions with the Hewell and Andris clans about joining the alliance. Hewell will join, though they were in no hurry, since there was no urgency, until now. Andris would like to join, but there’s no direct land connection, so it isn’t clear how their joining the Alliance would work. Still, I believe it worth pursuing.
“Orosz is sympathetic to our views of the Narthani danger, but since the clan Conclave site is within Orosz, Hetman Orosz believes they need to maintain the appearance of neutrality in inter-clan conflicts. Similarly, the Stent and Bultecki clans are aware of the danger, though the problem there is distance and coordination.”
“What about Moreland?” asked the Wycoff boyerman. The sour look on his face made it obvious he already knew the answer.
“Hetman Moreland has assured all that Moreland will repulse any Eywellese or Narthani attack on his clan and province.” Culich managed the words with a straight face. The antipathy between the two hetmen was well-known.
Luwis spat a curse. “That ass is living proof of the dangers of primogeniture. God’s pity on the people of Moreland Clan.”
; “Now, now,” snarled the Nylamir boyerman, “let’s instead pray God has mercy and arranges a tragic accident.”
Culich grimaced. “I keep hoping Hetman Moreland isn’t as stupid as he seems, and at some point he’ll realize the dangerous position of his clan. If our worse fears are realized, and Moreland is attacked, we and other clans will need to come to Moreland’s aid, no matter our opinion of Hetman Moreland.”
Though the thought of doing anything to help Moreland didn’t sit well with the boyermen or Culich, they all recognized the necessity.
“What about Stent Province?” asked Longnor Vorwich, boyerman of the Caedell district where Abersford and St. Sidryn’s were located. Hetman Welman Stent was highly regarded, and his clan was thought by Keelanders to be one of the better functioning on Caedellium. It was commonly believed that if the Stent Province wasn’t on the opposite side of Caedellium, they’d be part of the Tri-Clan Alliance.
Culich shook his head. “Stent’s a possible target. We think Moreland is more likely, but Stent would be the next probable victim. Unfortunately for Stent, they don’t have close cooperative relations with their neighboring clans. Bultecki and Vardinki might help, but so far Pewell and Swavebroke assume that since they’re far enough away from the Narthani, it’s not their problem.”
“Assholes!” was one of the milder comments from several boyermen.
“I’ll be going to Orosz City for a hetmen meeting next sixday,” Culich continued. “We’ll continue working to convince more hetmen about the seriousness of the Narthani situation at every opportunity. Though more of the hetmen are coming around, we can only pray the Narthani give us enough time for all the clans to wake up.”
With that comment, Culich moved on to more mundane matters that in other circumstances would have occupied the entire meeting.
Cast Under an Alien Sun (Destiny's Crucible) Page 27
