I shook my head. “Not at once. I was given a task to do, to ride to the southern villages, to ask for women to ride north. I came north, to the Wall, later.” That would do, I thought. They did not need to know all my history.
“The General Casyn is your father?” Perras asked. “You are hostage in his name, did I hear?”
“I am,” I said, “but he is not my father.” I saw Jordis return, carrying a laden tray. “He asked me to stand instead of his daughters, who are mothers with small children, and some distance from the Wall. It was Casyn who trained us, at Tirvan, and we rode south together, for part of the way. Now he is—” I stopped. “Was, I suppose,” I amended, “my commanding officer.”
Perras nodded. Jordis put the tray on the table and for a minute or two the distribution of tea and small oatcakes, spread with a soft, pungent cheese, occupied us. I sipped the smoky, unsweetened tea.
“What languages do you speak?” the young man—Sorley, I thought—asked.
“Only that of the Empire,” I said. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“What books have you read?” Jordis asked.
“Schoolbooks,” I shrugged. “My mother has books of healing—she’s a midwife—but I haven’t read those. There were not many books in Tirvan, except those, and some on husbandry.”
“But why, then, were you sent here?” Sorley asked. “Forgive me if I sound rude, but you have less learning than one of our children in their tenth year.”
I put my cup down and took a breath. “I came late to an interest in books,” I said, trying to remain calm. “In the weeks I spent at our Emperor’s winter camp, I was given a history of our Empire by the Emperor’s brother and advisor, Colm. Reading that, I began to want to know more. So, I may know very little, but I am eager to learn.”
“Colm’s history?” Perras said, his voice a shade less measured. “You have read Colm’s history?”
“I have,” I said, “and discussed it with him, just a little.”
Perras shook his head. “He and I exchanged a few letters. His loss was more than unfortunate,” he said. “What do you remember? Could you write it down?”
“I could,” I said. “But I have a copy, if you would like to read it.”
Perras put his cup down. No one spoke.
“You have a copy of Colm’s history?” Perras said. I could hear the disbelief.
“Yes. Colm gave it to me to read, and after he was killed, the General Casyn told me to keep it. He said the Advisor had meant for me to have it. It’s in my saddlebag.”
“I would be...” Perras hesitated, “most grateful if you would let me read it. Would you consider allowing it to be copied?”
What would Colm think? I wondered. He and this man had corresponded. “Yes,” I said, “I would, as long as it is done here. And I can keep an eye on it,” I added.
“I will do the copying myself,” Perras said. “As I read it; it will help me in considering and remembering what is written, and allow me to annotate as I go. Is that acceptable, Lena?”
“Of course.”
“Would you like more to eat or drink?” Dagney asked. “If not, then I will have Jordis show you to your sleeping chamber, and you may wash and change after your ride. And then,” she smiled, “perhaps you could bring the book down to Perras. He will be in his workroom, waiting as patiently as he can.” I heard the gentle teasing, and the affection behind it. I glanced at Perras. He acknowledged me—or Dagney’s comments?—with a nod. I smiled.
“I will be as quick as I can,” I said, standing to turn to Jordis.
“This way,” she said, pointing. I picked up my cloak, following her out of the room and up a flight of wooden stairs. The sound of my riding boots echoed against the stone walls; Jordis, I saw, was wearing deerskin slippers. We reached a landing. At the third door, she stopped.
I stepped through the door. My saddlebags sat on a low chest against one stone wall. A narrow bed, covered by a woven woollen blanket, faced a small fireplace, with a sheepskin on the flagged floor. A table and chair filled the space under the one window, and a wardrobe and washstand lined the other wall. Simple, but more than adequate, and much better than my shared quarters at the Wall.
“I am next door,” Jordis said. “Is there anything you need, Lena?”
I shook my head. “Just a few minutes to change, and perhaps to wash my face and hands. Is there water in the jug?” I stepped over to the washstand. The jug was full, and a towel hung on the bar. “I see there is. Then, no,” I said, and then realized there was. “Wait,” I said. “Yes, there is. Jordis, I assume there are no servants here? We empty our own slops, and the chamberpot?”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Except for the Comiádh, because of his infirmity. I will wait for you in my room. When you are ready, knock on my door, and I will show you the back stairs, and the well and laundry.” She hesitated. “Are you used to servants, Lena?”
“No!” I said. “I am far more used to doing for myself, and happy to do so, once I know the house. But should I not take the book to Perras first? And is that what I call him?” There was a familiarity to this, learning the protocols and ways of a new place. I had grown used to it, over the past year.
“Comiádh is better,” Jordis answered, “at least at first. The older students, those who have been here for some time, often call the Comiádh by his name, but I am not comfortable yet doing so. I think I am waiting for him to invite me to.” She coloured a little.
“Com-i-ath,” I tried. “Is that right?”
“Almost,” Jordis said. “The emphasis is on the last part, though—Com-i-ATH. Do you hear the difference?”
“Comiádh,” I stressed the last syllable of the title.
“Good,” she said. “And yes, take him the book first. We can do the other later. Should I wait for you, or can you find your way back?”
“If you don’t mind waiting,” I said, “while I think I can find my way back to the hall, I do not know where the Comiádh will be. Will you show me? I’ll be quick in changing; soldiers learn to be.”
“I’ll wait. I’m that side,” she indicated with a movement of her head. She closed the door quietly behind her.
I took a deep breath, valuing the brief solitude. I walked to the window. It had a view over the yard. The wind had picked up a bit, and the laundry billowed in the weak sunshine. I looked out, beyond the valley, to the hills where the play of cloud and sun dappled the grey-green of their slopes. A lone bird—a buzzard, I thought—rode the air.
I stepped away from the window to pull off my riding clothes. Quickly washing in the cold water, I dressed again in my clean tunic and trousers. Hair freshly combed, I pulled my indoor slippers onto my feet, and picked up Colm’s history.
Jordis had left her door open. I knocked lightly; she turned from where she sat at her table. I saw she had been reading. “That was quick,” she said. She looked down at what I held. “Is that the history?”
I held it out to her. “Do you want to see it?”
Her eyes widened. “Not before the Comiádh,” she said, with a quick shake of her head. She stood. “Come.”
I followed her down the stairs and through the hall. She led me to a door I hadn’t seen, obscured between the cabinets by shadow, and knocked lightly.
“Come,” I heard Perras say. Jordis opened the door, ushering me in before her.
Perras sat in an armchair beside a fireplace, where a fire glowed, warming the room and giving off a rich, unfamiliar smell, not unpleasant. On both sides of the fireplace, shelves held many books, and some objects. Writing tools and paper, and an open book lay on a large table.
“Lena,” Perras said. He stood carefully, steadying himself with the arms of the chair. “You were very quick.”
I held out Colm’s history. “I thought it important to you.” And I have been trained to not keep those who outrank me waiting, I thought, but did not say. Perras took the book from me. He turned slightly to the firelight, and opened
it. I knew by heart the words that began the first page: ‘In the third year of the reign of the Emperor Lucian…’.
We stood in silence as Perras read, turning pages carefully. After a few minutes, he sighed, closing the book. “I must not be greedy,” he said, “but I have waited a long time to read this work.”
“You never met Colm?” I asked.
“No,” Perras answered. “We exchanged a few letters, as I think I said, a few years ago, about what our records and our memories say about the building of the Wall, but we never met. I had hoped we would. We would have had much to discuss.” He glanced down again at the book in his hands. “So much,” he echoed. Then he raised his head to smile at me. “Please sit; it is easier for me.” he said, his voice firmer. He nodded toward a second chair, facing his, on the opposite side of the fireplace.
I did as I was bid. Perras settled himself back into his armchair, looking up at Jordis. “You may go,” he said gently. “My thanks for bringing Lena to me.”
“My pleasure, Comiádh,” she answered, and slipped from the room, pulling the door firmly closed.
I waited for Perras to speak. The warmth and flicker of the fire threatened to make me sleepy. I suppressed a yawn. The Comiádh appeared deep in thought.
“I think,” he said, “that I would like you to sit with me each day, for a few hours, as I copy this history. That way I can ask questions of you, and discuss what you remember, as I read it.” He smiled. “And you can keep an eye on your book, as you requested. Does that seem reasonable, Lena? I can see the book is precious to you.”
“Yes, mostly because Colm gave it to me, and because both the book and he taught me things I had never known about our history.” I stopped. Perras regarded me intently. I felt a need to explain. “In our village school, we learned just the simple facts: that the Partition Assembly was held, and some of the reasons why, and why we now live the way we do. That was all I wanted to know, at ten or twelve. But now—” I stopped.
“But now the facts are not so simple, and you are questioning whether they are facts at all.” Perras finished for me.
“Yes,” I said. “Comiádh, as we go through this book together, would you tell me what you know, from beyond the northern Wall? I would like to hear your side, too.”
I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “It will not make things simpler,” he warned. Then he smiled again. “Beyond the northern Wall,” he repeated. “Perhaps that is the first thing we must question.” I frowned, puzzled. “Turn around, Lena,” he said, “and look at the map.”
I turned my head. On the wall behind me hung a large map. I looked at it, not recognizing anything. I stood to examine it more closely. A blue expanse to the right of the map was water, I realized, and there was blue, as well, at the top edge and at the bottom. I saw the pointed symbols for mountains running down the centre of the map, veering left. Islands of brown dotted the blue near the bottom of the map. I frowned.
“Where is this?” I asked. Perras stood, slowly, making his way over to stand beside me. He laid one hand on my shoulder, pointing with his cane.
“Here,” he said, “is what you call the northern Wall. And here we are,” he pointed to a spot below the line he had called the Wall, “and here is your home village, Tirvan.” He indicated a place on the right-hand side, where the land met the sea.
“But,” I started to say, and then I saw. “It’s upside down,” I said, in wonder.
“From what you are used to, yes.” Perras agreed.
He had taken his hand from my shoulder, and so I took a step forward. I scanned the map. I found the roads I had ridden, and Karst, and followed the road with my eyes back to the Wall. Then I let my eyes travel down toward the bottom of the map. I could not read the names, but I could see the line of another wall, and named villages, and then a gap of ocean where the islands lay, and then just the edge of another land.
“There is another Wall!” I said. “And what lands are these, here?” I pointed to the bottom of the map.
“The land to the far north, at the bottom, is Varsland, and the islands belong to it.” Perras said. “The other Wall—it is not a stone wall, or not mostly, but an earthern dyke for the greatest part—is The Sterre. The land below it is called Sorham—the South Home of the men of Varsland, for to those people it is south; and between The Sterre and the Southern Wall is this land, Linrathe.”
I stared, trying to take it all in. Questions swirled in my mind. I didn’t know what to ask first. My eyes returned to Tirvan, trying to fix a point in this new image of my world. I heard Perras make his slow way back to his chair and settle himself. I traced again the road to Karst, and found Casilla, and let my eyes come back to the Wall. I followed the Durrains from the sea to where they bent eastward, and studied the islands and the northern lands, then brought my eyes up again to where The Sterre was marked, dividing the land from the Lantanan Sea on the west to the mountains.
“Does the map show the same distances everywhere?” I asked without turning. “Would it take as long to ride from The Sterre to the northern sea as it does to ride from the Wall to Casilla?” The distances looked the same to me, on the map.
“Were there roads of equal quality, and the land equally flat or hilly,” Perras said, “then, yes. The map is accurate, or as accurate as our mathematics allows it to be.”
“Then,” I said, “Sorham is as big as The Empire, and this land—Linrathe?—only half the size of either. Am I right?”
“You are,” he answered. “Come and sit down, Lena, and tell me what you are thinking. Turn your chair, if you like, so you can see the map.”
I did as he asked; I was being rude, standing with my back to him. I moved the chair so I could see the map with a turn of my head.
“What are you thinking?” Perras repeated.
“Too many things,” I said. “That the world is not what I thought I knew; and how can I not have been taught this, at home or by Colm? That your land is walled between two larger lands, so why then do you raid south and not north? Who are the Varslanders, and why have they not sailed south to the Empire?” I shook my head, like a horse trying to dislodge an irritating fly. “Too many things,”
“Good,” Perras said gently. I looked up. “Now I know what we should teach you in your time here. You will find more questions, as we work together, but we have a starting place. But that is enough, for today. Can you find your way back to your room?”
I wanted to object, but I knew Perras was right; I had learned more than enough for today. “I can,” I said. I stood up. “Thank you, Comiádh.” I hoped I had got the pronunciation right.
“Thank you, Lena,” he said. I crossed the room, pulling open the door. I glanced back before I closed it; Perras had Colm’s history open on his lap, his face rapt.
Chapter Three
The hall was empty. I walked across to the outside door to pull it open. The sun had begun to wester, but I estimated several hours of daylight remained. I wanted to check on Clio.
Outside the clouds were still moving quickly across the sky. It had rained briefly at some point; damp patches showed on the flagstones. I looked around, wondering where the stables were.
I had better find someone to ask, I thought, setting out for the nearest range of outbuildings. I poked my head into an open door: the laundry. No one was here, but I could hear voices close by. I walked along to the next door, and opened it. As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior light, I realized I had found the bathhouse.
Ardan lay in a large metal tub, his legs hanging over the end. Gregor, another of our party, occupied the tub beside him. A jug of something—I guessed beer—sat on a table between them, and two large mugs. I averted my eyes. “My apologies,” I said. “I was looking for someone to tell me where the stables are.”
“Walk down to the end of these buildings, and you’ll see a path that goes off to the north,” Ardan said. “Follow it, and you’ll find the stables. But your mare is in the field behind the stables; I gave
her a rub-down, and an hour or so in the stall, and then turned her out.” He sounded unperturbed by my presence.
“Thank you,” I said. “I like to see her, in a new place.”
“Aye, you’re well trained,” he said. “Close the door as you go, to keep the warm in, if you would.” I recognized the dismissal, and did as he asked.
The path took me to the stables, as Ardan had said it would. Just below the crest of a slight rise, Clio stood among a group of horses, one hip cocked, resting. When I called her, she ambled over to the fence and blew happily as I scratched her poll and withers. Tatters of hair hung from her heavy winter coat. After a few minutes, I gave her a gentle slap and she wandered away from the fence, back toward the other horses. I went in search of her tack.
I found it hanging in a space that doubled as tack and feed-room, neatly stowed, and cleaned, albeit the quick cleaning of a working day. I wondered if Ardan or Gregor had cleaned it. I needed to thank them. I would give the tack a thorough cleaning—and Clio a thorough grooming—as soon as I could.
I heard a sound from the end of the stables, the familiar scrape of pitchfork on stone. I walked down the range; at the end stall, I found Sorley clearing out soiled bedding.
“Hello,” I said. “Sorley, isn’t it?” He looked up, straightened.
“Lena,” he said. “Can I help you?”
I shook my head. “I came to see my horse,” I said. “Although, would you know where Jordis is? She was going to show me around.”
He glanced up at the sun. “She’ll be with the Lady Dagney, in lessons,” he answered, “for another hour, I would think.”
“Oh,” I said. “What should I do, then? Do I have time to curry Clio?”
“You should,” he said. “Did you see the tack room?” I nodded. “You’ll find what you need there, but why don’t you bring her down this end—you can tether her there,” he said, pointing to a ring in the wall between two stalls, “and talk to me at the same time. If you would like,” he added.
“All right.” I went to fetch Clio and the currycomb. By the time I brought her back, Sorley had finished cleaning the stall, and was propping a barrow up against the end of the stable.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 40