The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (15 page)

With
that, Carnigan shouldered his pack and headed back down the driveway, covering
ground quickly with his long strides.

Breda
and Maera watched the two men through lacy curtains on one of the manor
windows.

“Well,
Yozef looks undistinguished from my first impression. But by God, the Merciful,
the
size
of that other man. Did you see how the carriage lifted higher
once he got off? I don’t know about Yozef, but the other one
needs
a
wagon.”

“Oh,
he has a horse back at St. Sidryn’s. Of course, it’s a very
large
horse,” Maera said with a laugh.

“Was
I imagining it, or was your Yozef a little annoyed that I referred to . . . what’s
his name? Carnigan . . . as his servant?”

“As
I’ve said, Mother, the customs of his people are different. Evidently, they
discourage using address to establish social position.”

“Hmmm,
curious. I know the
Word
treats all people as equals, but some
recognition of status seems appropriate. And Kolsko rode on top of the carriage,
instead of inside. I suppose to be with his ‘friend’?”

“Don’t
worry about it, Mother. Yozef doesn’t make an issue out of any differences in
custom from his people. However, he tries not to offend. You’ll notice that
once he’s familiar with someone, including his servants and workmen, he reverts
to his people’s customs and treats them more as acquaintances, rather than by
their positions.”

Evening
with the Hetman’s Family

The
sun was long gone, and the smaller of Anyar’s two moons had risen above the
western hills when Yozef was summoned by a knock on his quarter’s door. A voice
he didn’t recognize announced it was time for evening meal. When he opened the
door, no one was there. He had been shown a tub of hot water in a room adjacent
to the cottage when he arrived and had availed himself of it. He now donned what
Cadwulf assured him was plain but well-made attire for general occasions. Expensive,
but not ostentatious.

Although
dark, there was enough light from the moon, the stars, and the glow from the
manor house windows to walk along the stonework path to the front door. A
knocker on the door gave him one of his increasingly infrequent flashbacks to
Earth. It could be the door to any of hundreds of such doors he’d stood before.
The reflection evaporated when he knocked, and a young girl about ten years old
opened it so quickly, he guessed that she must have been waiting at a window and
seen him coming. It was Mared, the youngest of the four daughters. Maera’s
description matched the mischievous grin on the young face.

She
did a credible curtsey, then said, “Welcome, Ser Kolsko. Welcome to the Keelan
Manor. Please come in.”

How
do I address her?
wondered Yozef, in another of those moments when he had no clue about the
custom. He had passed with the mother, but what about a hetman’s child? In lieu
of knowing and afraid of making mistakes, he was accustomed to admitting ignorance
and throwing himself on the mercy of whoever he faced.

“Thank
you for the invitation to come in. But pardon me. You know I’m a stranger to
Caedellium and ignorant of many customs. I know you’re Mared Keelan, Maera’s
sister and the hetman’s daughter, but how should someone like you be addressed
by someone like me?”

Mared
giggled with a hand over her mouth, then leaned forward and in a conspiratorial
tone whispered, “You just call all children by either Sem or Child until you’re
properly introduced.”

Yozef
whispered back, “Which is better for a hetman’s daughter, Sem or Child? And
which would you prefer?”

“Well,”
said his co-conspirator, “I
am
a hetman’s daughter, so Sem Keelan would
be proper. Here, where there are four of us, Sem Mared would also be
appropriate.”

“Thank
you,” Yozef whispered again. Then in a normal voice, said “Thank you, Sem Mared.
Your family has a beautiful home, and any stranger would be honored to have the
greeting given by one so charming.”

Mared
giggled again and motioned him to follow her into what he presumed was their
version of the family parlor containing chairs of various sizes, tables,
lanterns and, in this case, occupied by Maera and her mother.

“Welcome
again, Ser Kolsko,” offered Breda, rising from her chair. “You’re just in time.
Evening meal is ready. If you’ll follow me? Maera, alert your father, if he
isn’t already on the way.”

They
went into the hall, down the beautifully grained and polished wood flooring and
into a room with a table large enough for twenty people. Tonight there were only
seven and spaced far enough apart to give a formal tone to the setting.

Hetman
Keelan entered from another door seconds later, nodded to Yozef, and sat at one
end of the table. Breda moved to the other end and indicated for Yozef to sit
to one side of her. Maera sat between Yozef and her father, which made them far
enough apart that they couldn’t touch without rising from their chairs. The
three younger daughters sat on the opposite side, facing Yozef and Maera. As
soon as they were all seated, all of the Keelans placed a right hand over their
hearts, closed their eyes, and lifted their heads slightly, and Culich recited
the Caedellium common thanksgiving.

“We
thank you, Merciful God, for the bounty of this world and ask your understanding
of our weaknesses. Praise God.”

“Praise
God,” echoed the rest of the Keelan family, and the meal was on. Immediately, a
woman and a teenage boy appeared through a swinging door. Then, and later,
Yozef could see into the next room, which appeared to be the kitchen, as the
door opened and swung shut. First course was a brownish soup with what appeared
to be rice with pieces of meat, heavy on spices. Warm fresh-baked bread filled
an artfully woven basket, accompanied by dishes of butter that the Keelans
lathered on bread slices. A grunt of appreciation came from the hetman, as he
recognized the soup.

Next
came an incredibly tender roast with browned potatoes, a tangy gravy, a vegetable
resembling Chinese cabbage, and more warm bread and butter. Both water and wine
glasses were refilled by the boy, as soon as the level got halfway. The wine was
a surprise. Yozef expected one of the sweetish wines he had had so far, both
from phila and other fruits, or the foxy wines he suspected were descendants of
wild North American grapes. This wine had only a faint hint of sweetness, definite
tannins, and a complexity reminiscent of
Vitis
vinifera
, true wine grapes.
He decided he definitely needed to find out where it came from and either start
his own vineyard or know the source where he could order this wine.

 The
constant refilling of glasses and keeping his attention focused on the family
and maintaining his place in the conversation made him lose track of how much
wine he’d downed. Once he realized he was getting a buzz, he left the wine
glass alone and, whenever tempted, reached instead for water.

The
final serving was a pie of mixed fruits adorned with whipped cream, something Yozef
hadn’t seen in his time on Anyar. On savoring a spoonful, he realized there was
no reason not to have whipped cream; you just started with heavy cream and beat
the hell out of it—by hand, presumably, there being no Kitchen-Aids, Oster
blenders, or whatever, in this part of the galaxy.

The
meal lasted just over an hour. Yozef held his own in the conversation and
thought he acquitted himself satisfactorily. There were the usual questions
about where Yozef came from, how he got to Caedellium, his family, his people, his
enterprises, his opinions of Caedellium and Keelan Province, and on and on. By
now, Yozef had his story down by heart, but he paid special attention this
evening to keep to the official story and add no embellishments, which took focus
after drinking too much Chateau L’Keelan. The hetman was polite, if cool, and
though his questions to Yozef might have seemed unconnected, Yozef bet to
himself the questions and the answers were carefully constructed and stored
away. This guy might look and act like an English country squire, but Yozef had
the feeling the hetman was not someone to underestimate.

 Although
some of the meal’s accompanying conversation involved Keelan family and clan
matters, Yozef was the main topic. The two youngest sisters kept up constant
questioning of Yozef, while the third played the part of an aggrieved teenager during
most of the meal. Breda also had questions and played the gracious hostess.
Maera was there, though they hardly exchanged a word during the meal.

Yozef’s
uncertainty about the schedule following the meal was answered by Culich.

“A
fine meal, Breda. We should have this more often.”

“I’ll
make a note of it, Culich, although the balmoth meat isn’t always available.”

Yozef
would never know that the meal had been carefully crafted of the hetman’s favorite
dishes. Breda and Maera took no chances on Culich’s mood.

The
hetman stood, followed by the rest of the family and belatedly by Yozef. The
family repeated the same short prayer that started the meal. Yozef had seen this
routine before at the Beynoms’, although there the initial prayer was longer
and with more elaboration. At the Keelans’, it was more a rote recital,
although Yozef couldn’t decide whether it was perfunctory.

“Ser
Kolsko, I’ll accompany you to the veranda.”

Yozef
thanked the hostess for a lovely dinner, complimented her on her fine house and
family, smiled, and told the younger daughters it was a pleasure to meet them. He
then turned to Maera to say it was a pleasure to meet her again and winked his
right eye, out of the line of sight of the other family members.

Maera
jerked slightly from the unexpected gesture. They hadn’t conversed since he’d
arrived that afternoon. The wink gave her pause, but by the time he was out the
door, she decided it was a friendly gesture, indicating he thought he’d played
well his role as guest.

Once
on the veranda, Culich was all business. “I’ve made time in my schedule
tomorrow at mid-morning for us to meet in my office. Someone will come for you
in your quarters when it’s time.”

With
that, the hetman left Yozef alone, watching the back of Culich’s dark green
coat go through the front door.

And
thank you for coming so quickly, Yozef. I appreciate you taking time out of your
busy schedule. And, if it’s convenient for you, could we meet tomorrow to
discuss world affairs, the Narthani problem, how you helped the economy in
Keelan? Oh, and by the way, thanks for any help in repelling the raid on St.
Sidryn’s.

Oh,
well. I guess it’s not easy being green, and maybe the hetmen don’t go to charm
school.

Yozef
made his way back to his cottage. Because of the large meal and too much wine,
especially after the ride from Abersford, he had barely undressed and pulled
the bed covers up before he was asleep.

Summons

The
next morning began with knocking. Yozef roused himself from under the covers
when the sound wouldn’t go away, and he reluctantly concluded it wasn’t a
dream. He’d drunk more wine the previous night than intended, and now his
throbbing head wondered at the alcohol content. The headache was a puzzle, because
neither the local beers nor the fruit wines had such side effects on him.

Throwing
on clothes, he padded barefoot to the door and opened it to wince at the bright
sunlight. There stood the same serving boy as the evening before, this time
holding a basket.

“Good
day. Your morning meal, Ser Kolsko,” he said with a smile to the blurry-eyed, disheveled
guest.

“Whether
it’s a good day I’ll be the judge, eventually. One help will be if that basket
contains kava.”

“It
does. Shall I lay it out for you?”

“Please.”

The
boy put the basket on a chair at the table and pulled out a cup and a steaming
ceramic pitcher.

“You’re
my friend forever,” said Yozef. Whatever the wine was, he needed to drink less
of it. Still, he’d had far worse headaches after over-imbibing. While he poured
himself a cup of kava, the boy finished bringing out several woven bowls containing
fruit, rolls, hunks of cheese, a dish of butter, and another of a jam.

“Will
this be sufficient, Ser Kolsko, or is there anything else you would like or
prefer?”

“No
. . . what’s your name?”

“Norlin,
Ser Kolsko.”

“No,
Norlin, this looks fine. What do I do with whatever I don’t eat and drink?”

“Do?
You don’t do anything,” Norlin said, puzzled. “I’ll return later when you’re
out and remove it when I check for any clothes you need cleaning.”

“What
do you know, a multi-service establishment.”

Norlin
looked blankly at Yozef, who had unconsciously spoken in English but now
switched back to Caedelli.

 
“If I had any such
clothes, where would I put them?”

“Why,
in the sack,” Norlin said, pointing to a heavy-cloth bag hanging by a hook.

“Oh,
yes, I didn’t see the bag.”
And wouldn’t have known what it was for, if I’d
seen it
.

“Hetman
Keelan told me to inform you he’ll send someone for you when he’s ready to
meet. It will be sometime in mid-morning.”

Meaning,
hang around for when the high muckety-muck deigns to have you come to his
presence
.
Even when grumbling to himself, Yozef knew he was being unfair.
Well, grouchy
anyway
.

What
was he supposed to do while waiting? Stare at the walls?

“Once
I eat, and I’m awake, could you show me around the grounds so I can stretch my
legs?”

“I
understand Sen Maera is planning on doing that this afternoon, Ser Kolsko.”

“Yozef,”
he mumbled, sipping the kava. “Call me Yozef.”

The
boy shifted his weight between his feet. “It would be inappropriate for me to
address a guest of the hetman by his first name, Ser Kolsko.”

“Okay.
I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. But I’m the guest, and I prefer my first
name. How about we agree that when other people are around, you call me Ser
Kolsko, but when we’re alone like this, I’m Yozef.”

“Well.
All right,” said Norlin unconvincingly and then excused himself and exited in a
hurry.

Yozef
sat and focused on the kava. His earlier inquiries about the source of the
coffee substitute revealed it came not from a root, as he’d first suspected,
but from a truly impressive tree that often reached 150 feet in both height and
breadth. The tree’s four-to six-inch-long nuts fell after an enclosing husk split,
and the ground under a tree was often covered with nuts. When ground fine,
mixed with water and a little salt, and then boiled several hours, it turned
into kava. Its effect was similar to coffee, leading him to suspect it
contained alkaloids similar, if not identical, to caffeine. This kava batch was
especially good and reminded him of Kona coffee, not his favorite back on Earth,
but it was familiar tasting and smelling and had the same physiological
effects.

Once
more awake, he found himself famished and devoured most of the rolls with
butter, several fruits, and much of the cheese. He tried the jam. It tasted
like overripe figs and leather.

Alert
and sated, he had to fill the next few hours. On Earth, he’d carried a paperback
for “hurry-up-and-wait” occasions. On Caedellium, he used any available slack
time to work on whatever science he dredged from his memory, so he often carried
paper, quills, and ink for free moments. Later, he would transfer the notes to
bound journals and burn the loose-leaf drafts. This morning, he moved the
eating table closer to a window with sunlight coming through the panes, laid
out his materials, and delved into copying from his memory a text on
thermodynamics. As usual, there were gaps—sections that, for whatever reason,
hadn’t survived in his memory and whatever the Watchers had done to him.
However, he managed to reproduce major sections as if he saw the open book in
front of him. He was well into a chapter on statistical entropy and ruing that he
didn’t have the recall ability when taking courses at Berkeley, when another
knock on the door found him finishing a theorem proof and accompanying
diagrams.

“The
hetman is ready for you,” said Norlin. “Please follow me.”

So
he did. Down the same path to the house, through the double doors, and this
time down a different hall to a door where Norlin knocked and waited.

“Come
in,” called the hetman.

They
entered a spacious den-like room. As elsewhere in the house, the exquisite
woodwork was made from a variety of woods. From the walls hung paintings, one
of which depicted a stylized battle he assumed to be from clan history and another
version of a ubiquitous theme he’d seen many places—God creating humans.
Bookshelves and drawers occupied much of the rest of the wall space. The most
prominent piece of furniture was a large desk, behind which sat the hetman.
Elsewhere were two tables, one for six to eight people and a smaller table sitting
in a bay window, along with three leather and cushion chairs at different
points of the room.

“Thank
you, Norlin. Come back at mid-day bell to retrieve Ser Kolsko.”

Norlin
bowed and left, closing the door quietly.

That
means he expects this meeting to last around two hours
?

Culich
rose and motioned to the table in the window. “Let’s sit here, Ser Kolsko. I
always like the sunlight.”

They
sat and looked at each other for a few seconds.

“You’ve
made quite an impression on Keelan, since they found you on the beach near
Abersford, Ser Kolsko. I know of the new products you introduced and use a few
of them myself,” the hetman said, motioning to four kerosene lanterns scattered
about the room. “Maera is very impressed with you and tells me you were open
and helpful in showing her your workshops.”

“It
was my pleasure, Hetman. Sen Maera is bright and insightful. It’s always good
to get outside impressions, since we get locked into patterns of thinking. I
remember one day when Sen Maera visited the kerosene shop . . .” Yozef
continued describing a problem-solving session and how Maera had provided suggestions
that Yozef and the workers had missed.

“Anyway,
Hetman, I’m happy to share what I know with your people. It’s only befitting I
repay the care given me when I arrived and the place that the people of
Abersford and St. Sidryn’s have allowed me to fill in their community. Also, the
information exchange with your daughter wasn’t one way. Sen Maera was kind
enough to educate me on many aspects of Caedellium culture and history, and
many of her insights have been very useful.”

“Hmmm,
yes,” said Culich. “It was probably good fortune you found yourself near St.
Sidryn’s. The Beynoms and the others at the abbey might be more understanding
of your strange arrival and innovations, whereas in some other places even in
Keelan Province, much less other provinces, not to mention elsewhere on Anyar,
things might have turned out badly for you.”

Thus
ended the polite phase, and the hetman launched into the real interrogation.
His arrival, his origin, how did he get to Caedellium—similar to questions he
had already answered the previous evening. Yozef was sure Keelan had already
been briefed by Sistian, Diera, Denes, Boyerman Vorwich, Maera, and who knew
who else?

Why
do I sense this is not so much an information-gathering session as much as a
test to see if I can keep my story straight?  

Once
again, he focused on keeping the details few but consistent. He told himself he
was handling the meeting well, though was relieved when the hetman moved to
other topics.

“I’ve
read the reports about the raid and the battle at St. Sidryn’s and talked with
Abbot Beynom and Denes Vegga. I’ve also discussed it with some of my other advisors,
including Vortig Luwis, my military advisor. A consensus is to wonder why, for
God’s mercy, did you suggest letting the Buldorians enter the abbey? Ser Vegga
is emphatic they couldn’t have held the walls with the number of men available
and is even more forceful in his opinion that trying to trap the raiders inside
the abbey courtyard would
never
have occurred to him. Same with Vortig
Luwis. So the question is, why did
you
think of it? One possibility is
that you’ve had more experience and training in such matters than you’ve led
anyone to believe.” The hetman paused and looked expectantly at Yozef.

“I
understand that suspicion occurring to you, but all I can say is that I’d never
been part of anything like that day. In fact, I’ve never seen blood spilled,
except for common accidents and certainly not in deadly fights like that. As to
why I thought of what I did, it seemed logical at the time. Denes told the
abbot there was no way they would hold the walls. In that case, and I accepted
Denes’s estimation, my mind struggled for other options. If we couldn’t drive
them off from the walls, then wasn’t the only other option to let them in and
trap them inside the barricades? Remember, it was Denes who organized the
defense, once he got his mind off the walls. I would’ve had no idea what to do
next. I’ve thanked the people of Abersford for their gratitude, but I’ve pointed
out it was Denes who deserves most of the credit.”

Culich
shook his head dismissively. “Even if true, the fact remains the original ideas
came from you. I still don’t understand how that happened. Events happened so fast,
it’s puzzling that you came up with such a radical idea so quickly.”

“All
I can say, Hetman, is it just popped into my head.”

“Popped
into your head, you say? This sounds like one of Abbess Diera’s comments about
you, that it seems to her sometimes that ideas just ‘pop into your head’ from
out of nowhere.”

Yozef
was silent. What could he say? Most of Diera’s observations were related to
knowledge he was careful about revealing, but the raid situation was different.
Culich was also silent, waiting for more from Yozef, who sensed he needed to
say something more to assuage the hetman’s suspicions.

“Well,
there’s one other possibility. Although I’ve no personal experience with combat
or planning for such things, I assume you’re aware I was studying to be a scholastic?”

“Yes,
yes. Abbot Beynom told me about your claim that your people have vast amounts
of knowledge, more than we on Caedellium, and that your people value longer
years at study.”

“Not
just studying to older ages than here, but we also believe in breadth of
knowledge. I was a problem for my mentors in our scholasticums for reading
too
widely and not focusing more in my last few years. One interest was history and
particularly histories of warfare. Although I have no practical experience, those
readings might explain my sudden insight and suggestions to Denes.”

That
much was true. Yozef
had
read a lot of military history and read a few
of the classic strategy books. He suddenly wondered whether he should try to
recall some of those.

He
knew there was no way to tell the hetman he probably had more “military”
experience than any Caedelli, if one considered all of the readings and the video
and board strategy games he’d played. Granted, they weren’t real-world
experience, but he had neither heard nor read evidence that the Caedelli knew
anything about real warfare or battle tactics—an enviable situation as long as
no one such as the Narthani showed up.

Culich
didn’t look convinced but gave the impression of filing away Yozef’s
speculations. “In that case, I wonder what your ideas might be as to the
purpose of these raids that the Buldorians, and now the Narthani, have been
carrying out along our coasts.”

“It’s
only been since the raid that I’ve paid attention to the Narthani,” said Yozef.
“Coming to Caedellium, adjusting to no expectation of ever seeing my family or homeland
again, and then working on a place for myself took all of my focus until the
raid. That’s changed, of course. The Narthani
definitely
have my
attention.”