by Frank Morin
As Kilian led Ilse and her team up the road from the quay, Connor led a group of village leaders, including his parents, to meet them. When they stopped a few paces from the Grandurians, Verena joined him and took his hand in hers.
"Dad, Mom, you probably remember Kilian and this company from last year."
Hendry and Lilias nodded in unison, their expressions unreadable. Amhain openly scowled.
"I remember them," Hendry said in a neutral tone. "Last time they visited, we didn't exactly get along, and they made a nuisance of themselves."
Kilian extended his hand, a friendly smile on his face. "This time we did not come to fight."
"So my son claims," Hendry said. "I heard you helped save Connor, and you've sheltered Hamish and treated him well. For that, and for returning them to us today, I thank you. You're welcome in my house."
He took the proffered hand and Kilian said, "I've always liked this town." He glanced at the men still massed at Wall Gate. "I respect those willing to take responsibility for their own defense. I am honored to enter as your guest."
"Welcome to Alasdair," Lilias said, speaking for the women's circle. "And thank you for helping my son."
Captain Ilse said, "We met under difficult circumstances last time, but in the months since, your son has demonstrated remarkable courage and resourcefulness. You trained him well."
"Come on, then," Hamish beckoned, breaking the rather formal mood. "No one's had breakfast yet, and there's a feast to plan."
Most of the villagers followed them back to the town square, curiosity replacing worry once they saw the Grandurians didn't immediately attack. In the square, young Wallace dared approach Ilse, his expression serious. "You better not break things again lady, or my uncle will beat you up."
Connor sighed. He really had been gone too long. He ruffled Wallace's hair. "Hey, I'm your brother, not your uncle."
Wallace gave him a disgusted look. "I know who you are, Connor." The boy turned and pointed behind Lilias. "He's the uncle."
Connor turned and saw a stranger approaching. The burly fellow walked like a soldier, although he carried no visible weapon. His gaze was locked on Ilse, and Connor had seen that same eager expression countless times at the Carraig. The man was ready to fight.
The man grinned at Connor. "Tallan's napping with the cookie jar unlocked, he is." He clapped Connor on the shoulder. "Long may yer chimney smoke, laddie. I'm your uncle Martys."
Connor gaped and glanced at his father, who nodded and smiled. "He is."
"Uncle Martys?" Connor took the man's extended hand. His uncle had a strong grip, his big hands calloused from his soldier's life. Everyone knew the story of Martys, the young boy who had been taken away to serve High Lord Dougal, and never seen again.
"You're a Guardian?" Connor asked.
"Aye, lad," Martys said, his gaze drifting back to the Grandurians. "And I'm about to go to war."
Chapter Seven
"Authorization alone, granted by authority beyond my own, grants access to exit."
~Declan
Connor tensed. Martys was a Guardian, sworn to Dougal. He had never imagined he might actually meet his lost uncle, only to beat him senseless ten seconds later. Ilse did not look outwardly concerned, but Erich and Anika both perked up at the suggestion of a potential fight.
Uncle Martys was a big man, as tall as Hendry, with broad shoulders and huge hands. His brown hair was cut short like most soldiers. He wore heavy, blue canvas trousers and a green shirt. Dougal's colors. His stance seemed relaxed, but his dark brown eyes were locked on Ilse.
"Don't you dare start a fight," Lilias said before Connor could interject. "My boy just got home, and we're going to have a party."
Martys laughed, and his manner shifted subtly, the threat of danger evaporating. "Fighting before breakfast? Shame on you, Lilias for suggesting such a thing. Dinnae get yerself into a high doh, bonnie sister. I was just saying that after I get back to Merkland, I'm heading for the front." He winked at Anika. "Although I'm hoping I run into you again when the fighting starts, lass. I've heard Grandurian women like to wrestle."
Anika sniffed. "No many good wrestle in Obrion."
Erich took a threatening step forward, his expression darkening. "I like break Guardians too."
"I won't warn you again." Lilias drew a long wooden cooking spoon from the rear of her apron and waved it at Erich like a sword. "No fighting, or you get no breakfast."
Erich grinned down at her. "Is legend you lovely cook. No fight. Many eat."
Lilias actually flushed. "Well I doubt breakfast will be legendary, but I promise we'll have plenty."
"Good," Hamish said, clapping Erich on the shoulder. "We've got a bet on to see who can eat the most."
Lilias paled as she looked from Hamish to the huge Erich. "Oh, my."
Hendry laughed and raised his voice so everyone could hear. "Today we celebrate! Break out the tables. At noon, we feast!"
Connor suspected the villagers of Alasdair had not found many excuses to celebrate in recent months. They welcomed Hendry's announcement with enthusiasm. Women scurried off to gather food, while men formed teams to assemble the long Sogail feasting tables in the central square. Common linn were used to accepting things they weren't allowed to change, so they shifted readily from lingering distrust of the Grandurians to eager preparations for the feast.
Hendry said, "In the meantime, you're all invited to our house for breakfast."
"Not Hamish," Amhain said. "He's coming home with us."
Peigi, Hamish's mother, a petite, willowy woman with graying brown hair joined her husband and peered up at Erich. "You come along too, young man. I've got a few other children who will want to participate in that eating challenge. It's not every day we get to vanquish Grandurians at the breakfast table."
Erich gave her a deep bow. "I follow." Then he bowed to Lilias and added, "I come eat your house later."
She looked like she wanted to clarify what he meant, but wasn't sure she really wanted to.
Anika said, "I come too. Witness mighty duel."
The entire group set off, surrounded by Hamish's many siblings. Jean called after them, "I'll see you later, Hamish. I've got to visit with Gran."
"Oh posh, dear," Mhairi chided Jean. "Young men do better when you leave them for a time." The two of them headed for the healer house arm in arm. Mhairi stood a full head shorter than Jean, but despite her age she still moved with the same spry energy.
"The rest of you will join us," Lilias told Kilian. He bowed over her hand, and she blushed. Then she took Verena's hand and said, "And you too, of course, dear."
She headed toward Wall Street and their home, towing Verena along, with the rest of the group trailing.
Martys fell in beside Kilian and said, "So ye've returned to the scene of the crime, have ye?"
"No. The crime was committed in Merkland by your High Lord Dougal."
"I dinnae ken that, but I've walked the world long enough to know there's a story for every side. Regale me, Grandurian, and see if ye can convince me ye dinnae have yer head out the window."
Kilian chuckled. "You're an interesting man, Martys. Most Guardians I've met can't think past the start of the next bash fight."
That was an understatement. Even Tomas and Cameron, the two Fast Rollers in Rory's company who had helped train Connor, loved bash fighting more than eating.
Martys shrugged. "Bash fighting has a way of arriving when it will, and I'll give it laldy when it comes, but we've agreed no fighting afore breakfast. So let's hear yer justification for taking the fight to my home town last year."
"Very well," Kilian said, and the two began to discuss the situation that led up to the battles of Alasdair. Uncle Martys seemed content to talk for the moment, and Kilian seemed to enjoy the conversation.
So Connor drew his father back from the rest of the group so they could talk. "Dad, it's good to be home."
Hendry smiled. "You timing couldn't be better. Martys arr
ived just yesterday. We're still getting to know him."
"I'm glad I got to meet him." Even though the presence of a Guardian complicated the visit, Connor was eager to ask Martys about his life of service to Dougal.
Their home was the last building on Wall Street, set close to the corner where the river wall met the eastern wall. One of the few structures that had survived the flood, it had once been the biggest house on the street.
At two stories, it was tall enough to see over the wall. The ground floor was constructed of good quality grout stone, with the second story made of wood. Compared to the new homes now lining the street it didn't look so fine or grand in comparison, but it was home.
When they arrived, Connor's siblings talked over each other in their excitement to show Connor everything. They told him all about the rebuilding, the earthquakes, and the new Ashlar hammer gifted to Hendry by High Lord Dougal himself.
Memories flooded Connor when he stepped across the threshold. The house looked almost exactly the same. Lilias stopped in the kitchen with Verena. It smelled of fresh-baked bread and the rows of his mother's spice jars.
The rest of them moved to the main living room, although Connor followed his brothers on a tour of the house. The loft was still crowded with their beds and more clothing strewn on the floor than in the bank of drawers. It smelled like boy feet, and Connor was sure if he looked under Wallace's bunk, he'd find a jar with a captured frog inside and a hole drilled through the lid.
Uncle Martys and Hendry sat in padded wooden armchairs in the main room along with the Grandurians. Connor and his chattering siblings joined them once they finished wandering through the house. Martys was so recently returned, he soon captured everyone's attention with his lilting brogue and unusual turn of phrase, punctuated by ready laughter. Even Blair, Connor's ever-serious younger brother, was soon laughing at Martys' tales of Guardian life.
Kilian's easy smile soon calmed the boys' nerves about Grandurians in the house, and they began asking him questions about Granadure. The children took to Dietmar immediately, and they were endlessly fascinated by Margrit's glowing eyes.
Even Ilse, who seemed to prefer watching more than talking, couldn't escape attention. Wallace dropped to his knees beside her chair and stared up at her with open curiosity. "Are you a soldier?"
"I am."
"Do you kill people?"
For once, she actually looked unsure how to respond, and Connor said, "That's not really a question you ask people."
"Because killing is bad?"
Ilse nodded. "Usually. My job is to protect my country against evil. Sometimes that means we have to fight."
Wallace nodded, his expression serious. "Like when Connor had to fight you."
She smiled. "Your brother and I have learned that we fight for the same things."
Wallace turned a startled look on Connor. "You're Grandurian now?"
The outburst caught everyone's attention, and the room fell silent as the others turned to listen.
"No." Connor keenly felt the weight of everyone's eyes on him. This wasn't how he had planned to talk about future plans with his family, but it was an opportunity he couldn't miss. "I'll always be Obrioner, but there are evil men in Obrion who are trying to start a war that will kill a lot of people and cause a lot of suffering. I plan to help stop it."
"What's for ye'll no go by ye," Martys said solemnly.
"What does that mean?" Ilse asked. She had not yet cracked a smile at his stories, and seemed intent on maintaining her guard around him.
"My head's mince," Martys chuckled, rapping his noggin. "I forgot ye wouldn't understand the pure language when ye hear it, lass. That saying means what will happen will happen." He gestured at Connor. "I respect yer goals, Connor me boy, but this war is a coming, and I dinnae ken you or Tallan himself can do nothing to stop it."
"It's worth a try," Connor insisted.
He wasn't sure yet what he planned to do. He needed to spread the truth about patronage, but didn't know how to do that either. When Guardians knew the truth, Connor fully expected them to revolt. That would cripple the invasion plan, but would it plunge Obrion into civil war? Would Granadure invade in turn when they saw Obrion weakened?
Martys said, "Aye, that may be, lad. But to most folks in Obrion, these here Grandurians are worse than a tattyboggle, an' when the high lords say it be time for war, there be few willin' to test the waters fer snakes afore they jump in, hogs to the wind."
"There are many in Granadure who see war as inevitable too," Kilian said. "But it's always worth the effort to try stopping the fight before it begins."
Martys saluted him. "If a skinny malinky long-legs like yerself tries ta stop this war, I'm afraid one clean shirt'll do ye."
"And what does that mean?" Ilse asked, and Connor was glad she did. He didn't understand half of what his uncle said.
"It means that I don't think ye'll last long if ye try standing between the armies. Dinnae bother bringing a change of clothes on that trip. Ye'll be dead afore ye need another clean shirt."
"And I think we've had enough talk of war and death before breakfast," Lilias broke in with a frown.
Connor hadn't even seen her enter the room. She and Verena joined the group, and she announced, "Breakfast is nearly ready. Some of the ladies from the women's circle came to help. Neasa herself brought over a tray of sweetbreads."
Connor's brothers oohed over that and Connor explained, "Best baker in the world."
"I hope you're right," Martys said. "I've traveled the length and breadth of Obrion, and I've tasted the best of the best from the best in many cities."
"I didn't realize Guardians traveled so much," Connor said. From what he understood, most Guardians were stationed within their own high lord's realm, and rarely left their assigned post.
Martys shrugged. "Not many do, but High Lord Dougal is an exceptional ruler." He made a tiny bow toward Ilse. "I know ye don't agree, but hold yer biscuits afore ye judge."
Ilse said, "I am not one to insult the beliefs of those who invite me into their home, no matter how much I may disagree."
"Good on ye, lassie," Martys beamed. "My good high lord knows the importance of establishing relations between the realms, and he assigned me to the security detail of one of his representatives. Let me tell ye all the tale of the time we traveled all the way down to Radharc, on the borders of the endless desert. Ye won't believe what they eat down there."
"Save that story for after breakfast," Lilias said. "Time to eat."
Chapter Eight
"Sunlight filtering through a cloudy sky is fractured into many bands, but is all the same light."
~Evander
Neasa and four other local women carried in a feast while they wedged extra chairs around the long wooden table in the dining room. Soon it groaned under the weight of sweetbreads, hard boiled eggs, and porridge. Pitchers of milk and fresh-squeezed apple juice were wedged in between platters of boiled ham, sausage links, and immense piles of bacon.
For several minutes, talking faded away as they feasted. Connor tried to tell himself to slow down after his third plate. He needed to save room for the lunch feast. Then Verena passed him the platter of sausages, and he had to eat just one more. Or maybe three.
After the simple fare they'd survived on for the past several days, the food tasted divine. Besides, he wouldn't get to breakfast again with his family for Tallan only knew how long.
They annihilated all that food. His younger brothers even licked the plates, despite his mother's hissed reminders to watch their manners. Connor sat back with a sigh, so full his stomach ached. He was tempted to tap a little granite to help.
He glanced at Verena and she smiled. "That was amazing."
"Best breakfast I've had in months," Martys said, slapping his stomach, and the others clamored agreement.
Hendry rose. "After a feeding like that, I think it best we tour the town to help restore our appetites for lunch."
Connor only w
anted to curl up and take a nap, but Verena grabbed his hand and led him out after everyone else. The warm autumn morning had chased away the worst of the chill, and the sky sparkled with intense blue.
They met Hamish and his family exiting their home too. Hamish raised his hands in victory. "I have vanquished the mighty Erich!"
His family talked over each other, all trying to describe the epic food duel at the same time. Amhain looked proud, while Peigi looked shocked by how much food they had consumed. Erich looked a bit sick, and walking seemed to pain him. Anika looked disgusted and slapped his stomach hard enough to make him wince.
"How is possible little man eat so much?" Erich moaned.
"Practice and discipline," Hamish said solemnly. "You've got to embrace the food, Erich, just as deeply as you embrace granite in a bash fight."
Anika grinned and clapped Hamish on the shoulder. "You great victory, Builder boy. Food wrestle today much glory."
"Thanks." Hamish was wise enough to look nervous standing so close to her.
"That's my boy," Amhain said, glowing with pride.
Hamish's gangly, blonde, thirteen year-old sister looked awed. "Hamish finished eighty-five slices of bacon, twenty-nine eggs, forty-seven sausages--"
"And sixty-two sweetbreads!" Hamish finished.
Verena gaped. "You should have exploded!"
Hamish patted his armored midsection and grinned. "I probably would have if I hadn't still been wearing my suit."
Connor laughed. "Where did all the bacon come from?"
Peigi smiled. "We received five tons of smoked bacon with the rebuilding supplies."
"Five tons?" Connor exclaimed. He'd never heard of so much bacon in one place.
Amhain grinned. "That food was probably supposed to go to the front lines."
Hamish and his family decided to join them on a tour of the town. As the happy group headed for the distant western wall, where they'd make the turn toward Wall Gate, Hendry and Lilias pulled Connor to the back of the group.
