by Guy Antibes
They walked through the wide aisles. The market wasn’t particularly crowded, and Emmy was able to move freely among the customers. Sam spotted gold-washed glasses and tried them on. Fakes. He was disappointed, but he wondered if Renatee Dinik would know of a place that could produce replacements for him.
“Let’s grab some food,” Desmon said. “Plantian doesn’t keep much around.”
They ate Vaarekian food at a tiny restaurant carved out of the market and ended up walking back to Plunk’s house. Sam kept tossing small sausages from a bag that he had bought for Emmy. Plunk was at home and was turning on the lights when they arrived.
“Sam,” Plantian said. “I wondered who had taken Emmy away from the house. How did it go with Drak today?”
“I’m in a course with your friend, Professor Dinik. ‘Innovations in Mechanical Science’ I think it is called.”
“How to be an inventor is a more apt name. You will like it, and you will like Renatee,” the professor said. He turned to Desmon. “How is my daughter? Continuing to stir up trouble?”
“As always. I did what she wanted me to do and have returned. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I told you I didn’t before you left.”
What followed was a pleasant chat about life in general and an outline of what Viktar Kreb was up to. Sam yawned.
“It is time to return. I thank you both for your companionship today. I needed it.”
Plantian walked him to the door. “Any time you need to talk, I’m here. Renatee is a good listener, too, once you get past his Zogazin quirks.”
“What are they?”
“You’ll find out,” Professor Plunk said with a smile.
~
Sam hadn’t been in the Mechanical Sciences Laboratory building before. His classes were theoretical and took place in a classroom. Here was the place to put theory into practice. Professor Dinik’s course was part coursework and part hands-on, or so the professor told the class in the first few minutes of class.
One of the quirks that Sam could see in the introduction was Professor Dinik never stopped smiling. Was he born with a smile on his face?
“We will be discussing a theory behind mechanics, and then we will invent something. Any questions?”
“When do we start?” one of the students said.
He wondered if Glory had taken this course, and was about to ask, but Dinik took off explaining their first project. Sam had to admit the man was enthusiastic. He had to hurry to open his notebook along with the others in the class.
“Now we will tour the laboratory. I really call it a workshop, but whatever you like will work,” Dinik said. He got up and walked out of the room. Students had to scramble to follow him.
The workshop reminded Sam of Antina Mulch’s little manufacturing space behind her jewelry shop, except on a bit bigger scale. In one corner he spotted a forge. Dinik took them from station to station. Sam sketched out the layout and placed the larger pieces of equipment on it.
“Extra credit, eh, Smith?” Dinik said over Sam’s shoulder.
“I like to know what is available if I’m to be creative,” Sam said.
“Good thinking. You’ll go far in this class. From that wall,” the professor pointed to the other end of the large workshop, “to that wall,” he said, moving his arm to the opposite end of the building.
Quirky was right, Sam thought, as he watched Dinik laugh at his own joke.
~
The second class was as much an adventure as Renatee Dinik’s. Drak was right about the woman. She certainly hinted at putting a different spin on Vaarekian literature and that really interested Sam because he enjoyed different points of view.
“I really wanted them to call this class Comparative Polistian Literature, but the department didn’t go for it,” Professor Hanla said. “So the ‘advanced’ title of this course really means comparative Polistian literature. We often think of most of Polistia as one cultural block because we share the same language, but that isn’t the case. Trakatans are as different as Wollian’s, for example, and there are nuances to their writings that don’t appear in Vaarekian works. We will delve into the differences in this course. As you have undoubtedly learned before at the university, literature is an expression of the culture. It is more than the language. It is also how it is used in the culture, including references and idiomatic styles that make the different languages a rich source of study.”
Sam didn’t quite swallow all that she said, but if she was going to teach cultural aspects, he was all for it. Sam had an idea and raised his hand.
“What about Zogaz? Don’t they speak Polistian?”
“They are too different,” the professor said, “too weird, and not worth the effort. They also have their own language. Why do you ask?”
“I am interested in different cultures, that is all,” Sam said.
“You are?”
“Sam Smith. I’m from Toraltia, so that might be the reason.”
“Your Vaarekian is perfect for a foreigner, Smith. We might talk of the Zogazin another time, perhaps privately.”
Sam nodded. He thought she was going to brush him off, but that might not be the case, or then again, she might have just brushed him off twice.
~
The Summer Break classes extended into the fall term. Sam turned seventeen. He had a small birthday celebration with Desmon and Professor Plantian, who had invited Renatee Dinik along. Sam had chosen Hilsa’s Zogazin restaurant where he had eaten plenty of times.
She and Renatee hugged each other like the old friends Hilsa had maintained they were when she talked to Sam months ago.
“You know Plantian,” Renatee said. “This is Desmon Sandal from Wollia and Sam Smith from Toraltia.”
“Him, I have seen often enough. He lives on the other side of that wall.” She pointed to the university across the street.
“Today is my birthday, and I decided I would invite my older friends to help me celebrate.”
Hilsa laughed. “Older being wiser, or older just being older?” She smiled and then laughed along with Renatee. Sam guessed it was a private Zogazin joke since Professor Plunk didn’t join in.
“An international table. Four gentlemen from four different countries,” she said. “I will fix you something special for the occasion. Sit by the window and talk for a bit.”
“Hilsa will overdo herself, and we will sit here for an hour or two while she cooks something herself. I will go back to the kitchen and make sure she makes a few quick decisions.” Renatee rose up and nearly danced his way to the kitchen door, nearly bumping into a serving girl.
“Is he always this way?” Desmon asked.
“If you spent more time at my house, you would see that in some ways, yes, and in some ways, no,” Plantian said. “He is a brilliant man, and sometimes his brilliance carries him away.”
Sam could see the smile on Professor Plunk’s face. Renatee was an amusing fellow. Sam already knew he was as brilliant as Plantian said.
“I have some news,” Desmon said, leaning over the table. “Viktar Kreb is about to start tightening his grip on Tolloy.”
“I thought it was already tight,” Professor Plunk said.
Desmon shook his head. “New identity papers for everyone and lower standards for conscription into his army. The army will also get priority in all things coming into the country, from food to fabric. It is all over the Grand Market.”
Professor Plunk nodded. “I have my own sources. I will see how close we are to that happening. I have heard rumors worse than those before, but they have remained rumors ever since he disbanded the Hall of Councilors. That was the final straw for Banna. She thought Kreb would lay a heavy hand on Tolloy, but that never happened. He chooses to meddle in other countries’ affairs rather than Vaarek’s.”
“Not entirely true,” Sam said. “We have rarely spoken about such things, but my Toraltian friend, Glory Wheeler—”
Desmon nodded. “And my Lashakan friend, Tera
Barako, have already been trained at the university, along with other warders, and have shipped out.”
“Smallbug’s children?” Plantian asked.
Sam nodded.
“I taught them all. Ziggy chose well. They were all exceptional students, especially Glory Wheeler,” Plantian said.
“Another indicator is that the Vaarekian government has been giving out scholarships to other students. Four of Professor Grott’s top swordsmen were called into service before they graduated,” Sam said.
“So some things are happening,” Professor Plunk said. “I’ll still make my inquiries.”
“I wonder if it is time I moved out of the dorms,” Sam said.
“What brought that on?” Professor Plunk said. “I’d love to have you move in. I only have two of my seven bedrooms occupied at present.” He looked at Desmon. “Sometimes.”
“We haven’t had a chance to work on any pollen things. I am a special case—” Sam said.
“You sure are!” Desmon said.
“Don’t make a hasty decision. As long as you are in training for dueling. I think it is better that you stay close to the practice hall,” the professor said. “Don’t take that for rejection, just a consideration that being close to where you will be spending the most time is the most practical decision.”
“I know. I share that point of view, actually. It was just a thought.”
“Hold onto that thought because I am interested in finding out how much you really know. Banna did mention you can see layers in wards. That is fascinating considering you are unable to create pollen objects.”
Renatee marched out of the kitchen with a grin on his face. “I didn’t need to interfere. Hilsa always has things pre-made in stages, so we won’t have to wait too much longer. I made it a bit longer than necessary, I’m afraid, but I had such a good time.” He beamed.
Desmon looked out the window, trying to repress a smile. Sam wondered if all Zogazin were like Renatee and Hilsa. Perhaps it was time to have a private talk with Madrida Hanla about them.
Renatee talked about his latest invention. Sam had heard it all before in class and had even helped with some of the problems that Professor Dinik initially had. He stopped when a little drum and gong sounded. A few of the patrons clapped and grinned in anticipation of something.
Sam cringed when he realized the little performance must be for him, since Renatee looked very excited. The little performance was suddenly accompanied by the singers wailing something in a language other than Vaarekian. A few of them followed the servers and the two cooks with the drum and the gong. Renatee jumped up when they circled the table and sang another song in the strange language.
“Happy Birthday!” they all exclaimed in Vaarekian.
The covered plates were put in front of each of them. Renatee grabbed his and put it in front of him while he sat down. The servers grabbed onto the cover handles and lifted them as they shouted something, maybe Happy Birthday in their language. The spectators cried out with appreciative sounds.
Sam looked down at the plate. Each serving was a work of art. Mashed potatoes were colored and sculpted into designs. The meat was cut into shapes that matched the design, with vegetables making up the rest of the culinary work of art. Sam had never seen such a thing.
“And for our foreign friends, some spices to add to your delight,” Hilsa said.
Plantian nodded. “Spices do that to Zogazin food.”
Renatee’s eyes blazed with joy. “Pay no attention to the work of art. It is meant to be destroyed as it makes its way to your most important organ, your stomach!”
The crowd clapped and returned to their tables, but Hilsa pulled up a chair, sitting next to Renatee.
“Renatee speaks the truth. You have appreciated the presentation, now for the taste.”
Sam took a bit of the green-colored potatoes and was struck by the blandness, so much for Hilsa’s spices. He reached for the salt and pepper and took another taste. The potatoes were masterfully mashed, a perfect texture in Sam’s mind, and so once seasoned properly, he went for the rest of the dish.
He wondered how the lack of taste affected the culture or vice versa. Did the Zogazin make up for the blandness of their food with exuberant personalities? He hoped Professor Hanla might have some perspective, or Plantian. He wouldn’t dare mention such a thing to Professor Dinik.
“This is rather good,” Sam said. “Maybe I’ll bring some dorm mates over for this specific dish.”
That made Hilsa grin. “You bring them, and I’ll give them a discount.” She patted Sam on the shoulder and winked at Professor Dinik as she walked back to the kitchen.
The dinner made Sam happy. Here he was far away from where he grew up, and he had different sets of friends, his dueling team, Plantian, and Desmon, and now perhaps Professor Dinik, as well, as quirky as he might be. The only one missing from the party was Emmy.
Chapter Thirteen
~
P rofessor Grott started his first dueling class after the break with some bad news. “More of us have been conscripted as a result of scholarships given by the state.”
Sam looked around, and the class size had shrunk by half, and most of those drafted in the army were the better swordsmen. He could see why Grott couldn’t generate any enthusiasm in his welcome. The swordsmen new to the team looked like they would all be Level Three, with a few that might be trained quickly enough to join the Level Twos, but the competitions always drew from Level One duelists, and Sam and Norna were the best, now that the cream had been skimmed by Viktar Kreb’s army.
Grott took them aside. “I can’t field a full team this year,” he said. “You can see that. Do your best. I’d like you to spend some time coaching the team, and I will concentrate on my best four to see what kind of field we can present, but,” he shook his head, “I don’t know. It takes years to groom a team. If Vaarek goes on much more of a war footing, the army might wipe out the school. I know that there are more scholarship students yet to be snatched from the university.”
Sam found it hard to be enthusiastic. He had expected to make more progress in the coming season. But as he mulled the situation over in his mind, Sam realized that dueling was not really a team sport. It was always one-on-one. He could still improve if he thought of the competitions that way.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” Sam said. “If it is coaching, then I will coach, as long as I have a shot to compete when the tournament season begins.”
Grott smiled a bit weakly. “That is a different attitude from when you joined my class for the exercise.”
“I’m still in it for the exercise, but my exercise goals have lengthened a bit from when I started,” Sam said.
“That is good enough for me. Professor Drak will oversee your efforts. As for me, I have some Level Twos to train into Level Ones, if they are able.”
Sam wondered if the army was using Grott to train their best fighters, and that would mean once his students reached a level of proficiency, the state would step in and exercise their right to conscript.
As time went on, Sam began to work harder and harder to develop his skills. Once the students assigned to him were attended to, Sam sparred with Professor Drak more than working out with Norna, who often sought out Grott or one of the few remaining Level Ones.
“You have become stronger since the term started,” Drak said. “We should concentrate on smaller movements, so your body doesn’t forget how to move faster as you grow.”
Sam nodded. “I feel stronger,” Sam said. He already had grown as tall as Drak, taller than both Professor Plantian and Desmon. He figured he would always look up to Professor Grott in every way, but along with his height, Sam’s reach was nearing an acceptable length, too. “I agree with the speed. Do you know what else I can do to increase it?”
“Grott does. You should see him when we are done. I think he’s been waiting for this day to take your training up a level.”
Sam didn’t know what that
meant, but he would do just that.
Grott was working on a few moves with Norna, making Sam wait for a bit. However, Sam’s next class had been canceled for the week due to the illness of a professor.
Norna was sent to work on the moves with another Level One as Grott turned his attention to Sam.
“Professor Drak thinks I am ready for something,” Sam said.
Grott nodded his head. “I’m bringing in two of my old fencing companions to train you. One will take over your Level Three training duties, and the other and I will work on your strength and speed. It is my opinion that you have just about ended your growing, and that is the best time to increase the intensity of your training.”
“I look forward to it,” Sam said.
~
Sam worked on a project, putting together a cart with a leaf spring suspension. The suspension was something Professor Dinik had read about in a Zogazin technical periodical.
“What if we use pollen for bushings?” Renatee said, looking over Sam’s shoulders.
“No. That won’t work. Pollen doesn’t have the resilience that is needed. The Wollian plant that you talked about that was like the more flexible aspects of pollen. Can you make that hard?” Sam asked.
“Rubber? I’m not so sure. The process to harden it is jealously guarded by the Lashakans who developed it.”
“Then have them make it for you,” Sam said. “You can use dense pollen as a substitute, but you will end up replacing it all the time.” Sam told him about Glory’s father and the tires he had developed. “Rubber would work better than pollen if the claims hold up,” he said.
“Perhaps I’ll have Plantian visit us. He is the best pollen-maker I know. He calls himself a magician.” Professor Dinik laughed and wiggled his fingers.
“He is,” Sam said. “It is a certain talent. His daughter is one, too. I’ve seen her in action.” He stepped back and looked at metal bars. “I’m going to have to use the forge to build up the spring. It has been a while since I have worked with metal, and then I was just a helper. My father didn’t want me working with fire.” Sam almost admitted to his disability but stopped. He didn’t know if Plantian had told Renatee about his lack of pollen ability or not, so Sam wouldn’t admit to his deficiency unless Renatee said something first.
