The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (10 page)

A
month into her visit, reciprocal session of “lessons” began, this time with
Yozef as the instructor. The topic was Yozef’s views of Caedellium. It was her
first experience in delving deeply into how someone from outside the island viewed
Caedellium and its peoples, and it uncovered a new window overlooking a known
world. Some of his ideas deserved longer thought, such as the inevitability of
Caedellium being ruled by a single central authority. He asked several
pertinent questions: Even if the Narthani left, wouldn’t one of the mainland
realms attempt the same, if only to stymie the Narthani? Perhaps not soon, but
someday? Could Caedellium always exist as a collection of independent, jealous
clans?

“I’m
not convinced, Yozef, that Caedellium needs such a change. For one thing, I
don’t see the clans all agreeing.”

“But
isn’t the Tri-Clan Alliance, soon to be the Five-Clan Alliance, as I hear you
say, a step in such a consolidation? I’d predict that the advantages in defense
and trade will be so obvious that it’s only a matter of time before other clans
join. My people would call it the ‘domino effect,’ where other clans see the
advantages and, as more join, the pressure on the others will increase. Then,
over time, central authority would grow.”

“Who
would rule? No clan will agree to be under the authority of another clan’s
hetman.”

Yozef
described different forms of governing; many Maera understood, but others,
where the ordinary people had more decision-making power, seemed implausible.
He assured her all of the systems had been tried in the past, some successfully
and others failing. The variety was strange to her, but Anyar was wide and its
history long enough that who knew what had existed or did exist elsewhere? In
addition to everything else she’d learned about Kolsko, he never failed to give
her more to think about.

She
also found herself more and more relaxed, both in Abersford and particularly
around Yozef. Without realizing it, she looked forward to their times together
and was disappointed when a day passed without seeing him.

Maera
Learns to Properly Toast

The
time for Maera to return to her family had come and gone. She’d already delayed
a sixday longer than planned and was surprised that she wasn’t eager at the
thought of going home.

She
was leaving her room at the Beynoms’ house, heading for the dining area for
morning meal, when Cadwulf burst into the house.

“Father!
Mother! I—oh, Sen Maera, pardon my yelling.”

Cadwulf’s
parents appeared, Sistian from his study and Diera from their bedroom.

“What’s
happening, son?” said Sistian. “Is there an emergency!?”

The
young man flopped into a wooden chair, putting a hand to his chest. “Sorry.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm anyone. It’s just . . . just . . .
so
exciting!
I spent the whole night at Yozef’s house in his study. I don’t think any of you
has been inside, but he has blackboards covering two walls of the room. We ate
last evening, and afterward he started explaining to me how to calculate the
orbits of planets. We already do this, but he went further to show me the work
of two scholastics of his people, one named Yohanes Kepler and the other Izak Newton.
Kepler determined rules of how planets behave, and Newton provided the
mathematical proof. Plus, Newton explained why things fall and how to calculate
their speed and acceleration. It’s called gravity, and there are equations for
it, too!”

The
parents and Maera looked at one another, perplexed by Cadwulf’s exuberance and
with no idea what he was talking about.

“You
spent the entire night on this?” asked Diera.

“I
did, not Yozef. He went to bed. I was too excited and spent the whole night
going over the equations from Yozef to find faults. I couldn’t. He said they
could determine the paths of thrown objects, then fell asleep before he could
give me details. It took me all night, but I derived them myself, and he’s
right. Tell me how fast an object is thrown and at what angle, and now I can tell
you exactly how far it will travel.”

Although
Cadwulf tried explaining in more detail, Sistian was immediately lost. Diera
lasted longer, but it was Maera who followed Cadwulf far enough to be
impressed.

Later,
she met Yozef for another general discussion session. She didn’t mention
Cadwulf’s experience, though they rambled for three hours and veered over
topics from the Narthani to other Anyar realms, the birds and animals of
Caedellium, the relative merits of traditional Caedellium pancakes and Yozef’s
French toast, and on and on. They never seemed to run out of things to talk
about.

Odd
, thought Maera.

The
abbey bell rang, signaling the traditional end of the workday and time for
evening meal. Both of them were surprised how quickly time had passed. Maera
had a sudden desire for the day to continue.

 “What
are your plans for evening meal, Yozef?”

He
smiled. “I’m meeting Carnigan and Filtin at the Snarling Graeko for food and
beers.”

The
warmth of his smile and obvious anticipation made her not look forward to her
own meal with the Beynoms. Diera and Sistian were wonderful people, and she
loved them dearly, but after a month and a half, their conversation was getting
boring.

“Would
it be possible for me to come, too?” she blurted without thinking.

“To
the pub?” asked a surprised Yozef.

“Yes.
While I’ve never been in a pub, I understand both men and women go, isn’t that
correct?”

He
stared for a moment.
Grew up on Caedellium and doesn’t know such details of
common life? I guess being the hetman’s daughter sheltered her.

“Oh,
yes. Customers are mainly men, but there are always a few women.” There were no
cultural prohibitions on Caedellium against women in pubs; it just seemed that the
inclination was more with men, as on Earth.

“I
caution that the manner and language are less genteel than you may be used to,
Maera.”

“I’m
sure there won’t be anything I haven’t heard before.”

Well,
why not?
Yozef mused.
No one will act inappropriate with the hetman’s daughter.
Anyway, Carnigan, Filtin, and I will be there.

“Fine,
Maera, we’ll be happy to have you join us.”

However,
“happy” was not the initial response of the pub’s patrons, including Yozef’s
friends: surprise, astonishment, reservations, annoyance, confusion,
astonishment, yes, but not happiness. The pub was already full of customers
when the two of them arrived. As they walked to Carnigan’s regular table, the
din died away, first to silence and then a low buzz. At their table was the big
man, plus Filtin and his wife, Nerlin, who occasionally joined them. Yozef
thanked the fates for another woman besides Maera. Filtin’s face bordered on
shock when he spotted Maera. He jumped to his feet and pulled out a chair for
her. Carnigan’s response was even greater—for him—a raised eyebrow and another
generous quaff from his stein.

“Sen
Keelan, what a surprise,” Filtin stumbled.

“Thank
you, Filtin. I prevailed on Yozef to invite me. I have heard tales of pubs but
have never been to one before.”

“They’re
the most honest place on Caedellium,” offered Carnigan. “If not before a few
steins, then after. People tend to be who they really are.”

Maera
nodded politely, not quite sure what to make of the comment. Filtin and Yozef
just stared at Carnigan. It was the most philosophical comment either had ever
heard him make.

The
barmaid made her way around tables to their location, all the time pushed from
behind by the pub owner. At the table, the woman curtsied, and the owner made a
nervous bow.

“Sen
Keelan, an honor to have you in my establishment. Please let Paola here know
whatever it is you wish.”

Maera,
oblivious that not all customers were curtsied and bowed to, looked at the
steins on the table. “Whatever they are having is fine, Sen,” she said, smiling
brightly.

“Same
here,” said an amused Yozef.

The
next hour was initially quiet on a scale usually only associated with the pub being
closed, but as customers downed a few rounds, and nothing else unusual was happening,
the decibel level slowly increased to near normal. Paola still curtsied every
time she stopped at or passed their table. Maera was no stranger to beers and
ales, though on a more modest scale than she was currently consuming.

By
the time the pub served the meal of the evening, she was, if not inebriated, definitely
relaxed and convinced she was “just one of the customers.” The aforesaid meal
that evening was, by chance, another of Yozef’s introductions. Noodles of
various kinds were common on Caedellium, as were a type of medium-sized tomatoes,
transfers from Earth. They tasted more bitter than he was used to, but adding a
little sugar more closely approximated tomatoes sufficient for sauces. Thus, it
was not an off-putting food innovation, but more a different combination than
local custom. No one questioned why he called the dish “spaghetti.” Why would
they? Yozef Kolsko called it that, so that it was. When served, no one on Earth
would have used the word
spaghetti
, but Yozef figured what did the Caedelli
know? Broad, thick noodles, a tomato-based sauce, local spices that were not
basil and oregano but “sort of” and added a similar flavor, and meatballs more
usually served in a thick gravy. It had become a regular offering at the
Snarling Graeko but had not yet spread to the rest of Keelan.

The
meal finished, another stein or so consumed, and most customers had forgotten
or didn’t care any longer about the hetman’s daughter’s attendance. As usual,
when Yozef was in the pub, at a certain point in the evening friends or patrons
pressed him for a story. Maera looked on with a quizzical eye, as the shouts
for “Yozef, Yozef!” rang through the hall. He had long quit telling more than
one per evening, because even with his apparently improved memory, his recall
wasn’t limitless. They had finished the spaghetti and meatballs when the call
came that evening, and the food jogged his memory.

As
soon as he acquiesced, they found their table surrounded by an anticipating
crowd.

“A
married man was having an affair with a widow, all unbeknownst to the man’s
wife. One day the widow comes to the man and tells him she’s pregnant. Not
wanting to ruin his marriage, the man convinced the woman to move to a
different town. In return, the man, who had a very prosperous business,
promised that he would send generous coin regularly to the woman for her and
the child. To signal to him that the child had arrived, she was to send him a
letter with only the word
spaghetti
. Sure enough, many months later the
man arrives home to a puzzled wife.

“‘Husband,’
she says. ‘A strange letter arrived today. I opened it, and all the letter says
is ‘Spaghetti, spaghetti—one with meatballs and one without.’”

Although
the customers had seemingly adjusted to the hetman’s daughter’s presence, and
“ribald” was a reasonable description of the culture, there were only subdued
snickers and choked-back laughs, as eyes tracked a flushing Maera. Only when
she started laughing did the others let loose.

An
hour later, Filtin and Nerlin Fuller excused themselves to collect their
children at her sister’s. They bid the others good evening and walked the
quarter mile to their home.

“Filtin,
did you notice how Yozef and Maera got along?”

“Huh?
What do you mean?”

“I
don’t know. Yozef is, you know . . . Yozef. He’s odd, and people don’t always feel
comfortable with him. With Maera Keelan, it was different. Oh, she’s the
hetman’s daughter and all that, so you don’t expect her to be like common folk,
but the two of them seemed so comfortable with each other.”

“And
that means, what?”

Nerlin
sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let’s get the children.”

Another
hour later and after the last beer, a wagon appeared at the pub, and Carnigan
and Yozef drove Maera to her hosts’ house near the abbey. Diera was sitting on
a bench, obviously concerned about her visitor. Only when the three happy
singing people pulled up and Carnigan jumped off the wagon to lift a tipsy
Maera onto the ground did the abbess smile warmly and shake her head. With a friendly
wave goodbye, the two men headed off, as Diera put an arm around giggling Maera
and helped her into bed. While there was no question in the abbess’s mind that anything
inappropriate had happened, she had conflicting thoughts. On one hand, such
behavior would
not
have been approved of by the hetman, and, on the
other, she wondered whether Maera had ever been drunk or had as a good time as
Diera suspected.

Maera
Probes

Maera
had been at St. Sidryn’s past the planned month, when her father wrote to
inquire about her return date in words she interpreted as pushing her to come
home soon. To her surprise, she regretted the time had passed so quickly. Her
time at St. Sidryn’s had been relaxing in an unexpected manner, as if moving to
an alternative lifestyle that was appealing in ways she didn’t fully
understand.

She
had anticipated delving into St. Sidryn’s library, one of the island’s more
comprehensive collections of books, letters, and other writings on the island’s
history, clan politics, and the events that led to establishing the Clan
Conclave at Orosz City. While the original agreement that brought relative
order to the island’s clans was on display at the conclave site in Orosz, a signed
copy lay behind glass at St. Sidryn's.

She
had worked through an impressive list of readings during the visit, but there were
still many more left unread. She prioritized readings she would ask her father to
pay to have copied. She didn’t doubt his acquiescence.

Another
reason for her reticence to return home was Yozef Kolsko. Although she had
started with a cautious attitude to her father’s assignment to assess this
stranger making multiple impacts on Keelan, she became more and more interested
in understanding him personally and his influence on the people of Abersford
and St. Sidryn’s.

Objectively,
he still looked ordinary, of average height and build, though with a relaxed
manner. She agreed with the general impressions that he was “odd.” His
different interpretation of events from what the clanspeople saw was one
example. Another was his belief in the value of what he called “exercise.” The
first time Maera had seen him “running,” she thought something was chasing him.
A village boy matter-of-factly told her that every other day Yozef ran six
miles from his house past the abbey and the village, then down to the beach and
along the sand back home. People ran if being chased, or children ran at play.
Men might play various games that required running, though usually young men
and in groups.

The
weights she’d only heard others tell of witnessing. Why lift weights, unless
for work? It seemed somehow almost perverse, like descriptions in books of mainland
religious sects that scourged themselves to atone for sins. Had Yozef committed
some great sins? After all, he was a stranger, and who knew what customs or
religion his people followed?

The
explanation for the exercise came from Yozef himself. Maera, as was her custom,
simply asked.

“Yozef,
why do you do this exercise you’re so diligent about? Is it part of the customs
of your people?”

“There
are two main reasons. Well, actually three, I suppose. The first is for general
health. Our bodies are made to be used. Consider different people and their
professions or work. Often, you can guess what kind of work they do by the
shape of their bodies. If you see a rotund person, you’d guess they worked standing
or sitting, without much movement. You seldom see farmers with large bellies,
because they move and work their bodies. No matter what your work, running or fast
walks get the heart pumping and the blood moving faster. You wouldn’t expect
someone who never lifts heavy weights to do it suddenly, so neither should you
expect your heart and veins to be fully capable, unless they have also had
their exercise.”

“And
the weights?”

“They’re
less for general health than for having strength and personal feelings.
Naturally, overseeing my projects doesn’t require strength. However, you never
know when a little more strength will be important. I hope never again to
experience anything like the Buldorian raid, but if it happens again, my
chances of surviving and helping others will be better if I’m stronger.

“Then
there’s the personal reason. I feel better about myself when I exercise. Other
children considered me a weakling, and my feelings about that have evidently
lasted into adulthood.”

Yozef
didn’t elaborate that “Yozef the First” was the stereotypical unathletic nerd
for as long as he could remember. “Yozef the Second” had potential, and it
pleased him that the new version could do what the earlier one couldn’t have.

Maera
accepted Yozef’s explanation without further comment, although she discussed it
later with Diera, who had had similar discussions with Yozef and come to
suspect he was right about the advantages for general health. Maera still thought
the running and the weights strange, as well as peculiar habits.

More
interesting was his depth of novel knowledge. Often, sometimes out of thin air,
Yozef would reveal bits of knowledge that proved useful or gave the impression
the listener was the one who didn’t appreciate the significance.

She
accepted that Yozef was more interesting than anyone she’d ever met. Most of
all, however, he
listened
to her. And not just listened but expected her
to have ideas of her own. At first, it made her uneasy, though by now she had
begun to feel exhilarated during their discussions. He also was a sponge for
information and seemingly had no problem that the person satisfying his craving
was a woman. Thus, when she settled on leaving for Caernford in three days, she
found herself melancholy.

Her
time at St. Sidryn’s was an end, and she began preparing mentally and gathering
her things together. She and Yozef had taken to eating mid-day meal together with
workers in one of his shops, in Abersford or in one of the abbey gardens, if
they were working in the library. It was only days before she would leave when
she realized that he was occasionally missing for hours, and no one could find
him.

Picnic

 “Yozef,
I’ve noticed you sometimes disappear, often for hours or a whole day, and no
one knows where you’ve gone. It’s becoming part of the rumors about the
mysterious Yozef Kolsko. Is it a secret? Some people suspect you’re somehow
magical and vanish to who knows where? I hope I’m not intruding. I’m only
curious.”

Yozef
hesitated, then answered, “Sorry to disillusion fantasies about me, but on
occasion I like time alone. I’m talking and working with people all day most
days. Sometimes I need to be away from people for a day or a few hours.”

“Where
do you go to be ‘away’?”

Yozef
grinned a shy, little-boy grin. “Into the hills. They rise sharply west of the
village and down to the ocean. Within the hills are an amazing variety of
terrains and plants. Hardly anyone goes there, which is unfortunate for them
but good for me, since it’s so quiet. I found a path up the first escarpment.
At the top, there’s a great view of the village, abbey, and shore. Sometimes I
just sit there, if I don’t have much time. Otherwise, I continue on where the
land is rugged, and there’s a series of valleys and dales. Each one is different.”

Yozef
paused, and his eyes took on a faraway focus. “One valley especially is quite
amazing. I found it recently, and I’ve gone back once. Although the flowers are
past their peak bloom, it’s still beautiful.”

He’s
lonely,
Meara
thought
. With all that’s going on, all his projects, the obvious high regard
everyone has for him, I wonder if everyone forgets that he was cast away here
on Caedellium, never to see his home again.

Without
thinking, Maera blurted, “Would you take me there?”

Yozef
was taken aback. As much time as they had spent together these last sixdays, it
had been mainly time exchanging information and attitudes.

Yozef
hadn’t spoken before regrets at her impetuousness washed over her.
What was
I thinking? Quick, what do I say to withdraw my silly question?

Yozef
looked at her with a different eye than before. He
liked
her. Somehow, showing
her his special places wasn’t an issue.

“I’d
like that. But would it be appropriate for someone of your position? And what
would the abbot and the abbess say? They might have reservations about you
going to such a place without appropriate accompaniment.”

Does
he mean go off with men without proper chaperone or guards? It probably
would
be inappropriate.
And how exciting! Besides, I can take care of myself.
Excitement gave way
to apprehension.
Maybe he doesn’t want to take me. Maybe he doesn’t like me.
Oh, good God, here I am, confused and what’s my mind doing?

Suddenly,
a day away from being “Maera Keelan” and seeing some of Yozef’s special places were
the most appealing thoughts she had had in forever.

“They
can be managed,” she said.

“Are
you sure about the abbot and the abbess?”

“I’m
the hetman’s daughter, and they aren’t my guardians.” Then she smiled.
“Besides, I’ll make it up them somehow, and I’ll let Diera know I’m safe with
Yozef and Carnigan.”

Yozef
looked disappointed. “Carnigan would go with us?”

Maera
grinned mischievously, something that made her look very different and young.
“I won’t say Carnigan will be with us
all
the way to your valley, assuming
you can get him away for the day.”

Yozef
grinned back. “I’ll see if I can convince him.”

They
didn’t plot further the next day, but as their paths crossed the following
morning, Yozef slowed and whispered, “Tomorrow after morning meal, in the grove
of trees in back of the abbey grounds. Wear clothes and shoes for riding and walking.”

She
nodded conspiratorially and kept going.

The
next morning, Yozef and Carnigan waited in the grove with three horses, food,
and water for the day. The morning coolness was fading when a slim figure in a
reddish-brown hooded robe carrying a bag came furtively up the path from the
rear door of the complex’s stone wall.

“Gracious,
I wonder who this could be,” said a sardonic Carnigan.

“Little
Red Riding Hood?” mumbled Yozef.

“Who?”

“Never
mind.”

The
figure walked quickly, head tilted forward to further hide the face. She walked
between the trunks of two large trees and stopped, her head turning in several
directions. Then, apparently not seeing well, she pulled back the hood. Maera
caught sight of them and hustled over to where they held the horses. She was
flushed, with an expression that reminded Yozef of his older sister’s
three-year-old daughter and a look the niece had when about to do something she
wasn’t allowed.

“Yozef,
Carnigan,” she greeted them. “I told Diera we’d be back an hour before sundown
at the latest. She promised not to tell Abbot Sistian unless we were late.”

“That
shouldn’t be a problem. Where we’ll go is not that far, and we’ll take the
horses first toward a beach, one of my favorite spots.”

Maera
nodded and accepted Carnigan’s gesture to help her mount the older, gentle mare
he’d chosen for her. While Maera was an accomplished rider, Carnigan was taking
no chances with the hetman’s daughter. She sat on the Caedellium version of a
woman’s side-saddle, her robe covering everything, except the foot and the calf
of the left leg resting in one stirrup.

Yozef
rode his gentle, gray gelding, Seabiscuit, while Carnigan’s horse made the
other two appear like ponies. The Percheron-like horse stood nineteen hands
high and was stoutly built. It took a steed of such dimensions to accommodate
Carnigan’s bulk.

When
they mounted, Yozef indicated to Carnigan, “We’re set. Lead on, McDuff.”

Carnigan
ignored the Shakespeare misquote, accustomed to pretending indifference to odd
utterances from his strange friend.

They
started off in single file, Carnigan in the lead, followed by Maera, with Yozef
deliberately trailing to get into Seabiscuit’s rhythm before Maera saw him
still trying to remember how to ride. He needn’t have worried, because Seabiscuit
still knew more about riding than he did.

They
followed a winding game trail through the woods for a mile, before it opened
onto a narrow road they followed few hundred yards and then onto another two-mile
trail through brush. They reached a dry ravine and followed it down to a beach four
hundred yards wide with whitish-cream sand and gentle waves breaking twenty to
thirty yards across the flat expanse. Yozef’s cove and retreat house lay only a
half-mile away, but he wasn’t ready to share
every
special place.

Yozef
thought the day perfect—skies with scattered fluffy clouds breaking up the
solid blue, gentle winds coming off the sea, and an occasional gull or flyers
that looked and sounded like gulls.

As
they rode along the sand, Yozef let Seabiscuit come next to Maera’s horse.

“I
remember visiting one of my mother’s relatives several times when I was young.
They lived near the sea, and they would take my cousins and me to a beach. The
adults would sit under shade and talk about adult topics, while the kids played
in the sand and the water. I always wondered why the adults didn’t come and
play, too, because it was more fun than sitting and talking. Even now, I wonder
whether children don’t have a deeper insight sometimes than adults.”