As Sir Ako understood Valo Peli’s argument, he was moved to anger, but he held his emotions in check. He had learned to hold his tongue when listening to debates between his father and his older brothers. But inside, he seethed.
Valo Peli looked at them, these men from Kelten with such shock and anger in their faces, over ideas that were as basic in Serica as the fact that chicks, tiny balls of yellow fluff, turn into roosters or hens when they get older.
Sandun slowly offered this response. “Valo Peli, you told us on the road that the Water Kingdom was unsuccessful in battle. That it failed in nearly all of its wars. That it alone, of the kingdoms of Serica, was conquered by a foreign nation, namely the Sogands.”
Valo Peli replied, “Looking back on Water Kingdom history, it does appear that they paid a heavy price for their disdain for their own military. Yes, the Water Kingdom’s record in war is not glorious. Men like me, who were taught by men who knew the last ministers of the Water Kingdom, we were taught to revere their wise and benevolent stewardship over the Water Kingdom. We all look back at those ministers and sigh with regret that such men are not to be found today. Perhaps we look past their failures too easily. Perhaps we forgive them too much.”
Now the discussion shifted to Kelten as Sandun, Sir Ako, Basil, and Kagne debated the role of the military in their country. It was a strange thing to even talk about, to question. It was like challenging the idea that fishermen should not pull fish from the sea—absurd on its face.
Sir Ako was adamant. “Valo Peli is spouting philosophical nonsense. Kelten is surrounded by enemies: Issedon, Fiodroch, Jibur, even Melnehlan might send a fleet against us if they thought we were weak. Every nation has enemies, and if your best men are not defending your borders and commanding your soldiers, you will lose. You will lose land, you will lose people. Perhaps the whole land will be conquered, like Aremaspan was centuries ago. As you said, Sandun, the history of the Water Kingdom speaks for itself. They lost. They were utterly defeated. And by who? By Sogands, a warrior nation if ever there was one. How many people died because the Water Kingdom failed to defend itself? How many cities were burned, how many women and children murdered by Sogand invaders?”
Sandun replied, “I agree with you, Sir Ako, but who can honestly say that all the wars we fought in Kelten after the death of Maklinos the Great were justified? Count Tichnis, the servant of kings, is he not cursed in taverns throughout Opomos? Is he not just such a man as Valo Peli describes? A man who caused wars seemingly for his own amusement?”
“Tichnis, now that was a man whose overbearing ambition resulted in the deaths of many a good knight.” Sir Ako nodded vigorously. “Everyone agrees about him.”
“And the scholars of the Water Kingdom invented ‘thunder dust,’ so they must be given some credit,” Sandun said.
Sir Ako stopped short. He understood what Sandun had left unsaid, that his own leadership would have gotten them all killed at the battle of Wheat Town. His anger cooled immediately, and he got up and bowed to Valo Peli. In Serice, he said, “I have not properly thanked you for what you did in the battle of Wheat Town. You saved us.”
Valo Peli looked a bit embarrassed. “You give me too much credit. But you are most welcome.” Changing the topic of conversation, Valo Peli then said, “You all should know that I have made up my mind. I will offer my services to the Ruler of Kunhalvar. I think I shall go to his palace tomorrow and present myself.”
“Perhaps you should wait and see if Lord Vaina will come here for dinner. Things might go better if you reveal your identity on friendly ground,” Sandun said.
Valo Peli considered that. “Perhaps you are right. I agree. We shall see if he comes. I shall write an invitation for you.”
The invitation was sent to the palace early the next day. Valo Peli spent the rest of the day out in the city. “Looking up old history. Something the Lady Tuomi said provoked my memory,” he told Sandun.
Russu’s uncle came over to the embassy again. This time, the young princess came outside and talked with him. Sir Ako stood next to her, and Sandun and Kagne stood off to one side, watching. Although Russu and her uncle spoke in the language of Rakeved, he was clearly telling her to return to his house, and she was telling him no. After about twenty minutes, he lost his temper and grabbed her arm. She slapped him with her free hand; he let go, and then she turned around and stormed back into the Kelten embassy. He left, rubbing his face ruefully.
“She’s a handful, that’s for certain,” said Kagne. “I’m glad she is staying with us. Brightens up the place.”
Sir Ako smiled at Kagne and returned to his practicing.
After a quarter of an hour, Princess Tuomi came down from her room. She looked calm, as though she had been painting watercolors in the garden, but her eyes were red.
“That man, he had nerve to call you barbarians. I told him we were just as much barbarians in Serice eyes. Then he said I had to obey him since my father died, and I told him that he had been living too long in Serica. That may be how they do things here, but not in Rakeved. My father is dead, and now I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions.”
Sir Ako came over to her and kissed her. Then he picked up his sword and looked at her. Russu looked back at him, her eyes wide, the hint of a smile on her lips, and then she went upstairs.
Later, while they were drinking tea in the warm afternoon, Sir Ako spoke quietly to Sandun. “She came to me. I mean, to my room. What was I to do?”
Sandun said, “We all hear the songs, Sir Ako. Though I confess, I’m a little surprised to hear the fame of Kelten knights has reached as far Serica and Rakeved. I guess the stories we tell each other in pubs about young women and young knights have some truth to them?”
Sir Ako nodded. “Much truth. When I was a squire, I was invisible to everyone, especially the nobles’ daughters, who I pined after with little result. But when I was knighted, things were so different. It was not uncommon for me to find a young lass in my bed when I was spending the night in a new town. And when I won the tournament in Seopolis…I don’t think you have any conception of what women are willing to say, what they are willing to do to…ahem, be with a champion knight. Noble women of Kelten like to pretend their modesty and virtue are beyond reproach. My personal experience tells me that their reputation is…um…somewhat at odds with reality.
“But what I am to do about Russu?” Sir Ako said in an aggrieved tone. “If Russu leaves here, she will be killed. And when she is here, she wants to stay with me. Not that she isn’t…well, you know…”
Sandun slowly said, “I’m no priest of the temple; I’m your friend. We were sent to reach Serica and establish trade relations. On our old maps, Rakeved is just a province of Serica. I suppose it is possible that by keeping Princess Russu here you are complicating our mission, but I don’t think so. In any event, she is your responsibility now. I think she is better off here. Maybe she is supposed to be here?”
“Don’t you get all ‘hand of Sho’Ash’ on me,” Sir Ako said. “My men may believe it, but not me. A knight makes his own destiny, through strength and wisdom and skill at arms.”
“Except when a beautiful princess, who is in mortal danger, falls at your feet?”
“Er. Yes. Except for something like that.”
The next day, a letter arrived from the Lord of Kunhalvar. Scribe Renieth delivered it personally. Sandun passed it to Ashala, who read it and then said to everyone in Kelten: “The lord is coming in five days for a dinner.”
In addition to the letter, there were several pieces of paper tied together with a piece of silk. Sandun untied the silk and looked at the papers. The papers were very similar to each other and rather elaborately decorated, but otherwise they meant nothing to him. At the bottom of the stack was a map to a location in the city with some writing next to it. Ashala looked at it and read out: “The Kelten expedition will find this place of great
value.”
“What are these papers?”
“Something to do with salt. Five hundred cats weight of salt.” Ashala shrugged. Sandun knew a cat weight in Gipu and Serica was close to a pound and three quarters. Why this was called a cat weight was mysterious, since only a kitten weighed so little.
Renieth tried to explain: it was a form of money. Quite a lot of money. This provoked even more amazement on the part of the Keltens.
“Paper money?” Farrel laughed.
“Money is gold or silver or copper coins,” said Gloval, who had a talent for saying what was well understood.
Sandun tried to learn more, since he didn’t really understand the concept. Ashala had heard of such things, but they were never used or accepted in Gipu.
When Valo Peli returned, Sandun showed him the pieces of paper “money.” He looked at them thoughtfully and then he talked.
“Let me tell you a story.” Valo Peli often explained things this way. “Many years ago, the Water Kingdom had a string of forts along the northern border. Most of the forts were far from any cities, and the forts had little in them other than soldiers and weapons. No coins, so they were not targets for raids from northern enemies. During times of peace, the soldiers grew crops and kept chickens and had cattle ranches south of the fort. They had nearly everything except salt. But salt is necessary for food and health. For centuries, previous kingdoms had sought cheap methods for getting salt to the forts, with a distinct lack of success.
“But one clever official working for Minister Sakay had a brilliant idea. A merchant takes a cartload of salt to a fort, say two hundred cats weight. In exchange, the merchant is given a piece of paper that says ‘Give this to the official in charge of salt in the city of Tokolas, and he will give to you three hundred cats weight of salt in exchange.’ You can see the benefit to a merchant in doing this. And the benefit to the fort is, all they need is some pieces of paper and ink. No Sogands will raid a fort to steal paper!”
Sandun interrupted, “That’s very nice. But what does this have to do with money?”
“I continue my story,” Valo Peli said with a trace of irritation in his voice. “A man with one of these pieces of paper worth three hundred cats of salt in Tokolas finds he has pressing business in a different city, say Sasuvi. As it happens, he learns of a great trade chance in the city, but he has no money, just this piece of paper worth three hundred cats of salt in Tokolas. He finds a fellow merchant, one who regularly travels between Sasuvi and Tokolas, and he says, ‘This paper is worth three hundred cats of salt in Tokolas.’ The other merchant looks at the paper and agrees. The first man says, ‘Three hundred cats of salt sells for 5,000 copper coins here, I’ve just checked the prices. How many coins will you give me for this piece of paper?’ The second man thinks for a while and finally says ‘I’ll give you 4,500 copper coins for that piece of paper.’ And so the deal is done.”
“Then what happens?” asked Sandun.
“That piece of paper doesn’t end up in Tokolas. Instead, it is used in Sasuvi as a substitute for three hundred cats worth of salt, in coins. Everyone is happy. The soldiers find their forts are regularly supplied with salt. The government finds that its salt supply in Tokolas is hardly depleted, and merchants find that carrying around pieces of paper worth 4,500 copper coins is much easier than actually carrying around 4,500 copper coins.”
“Each one of these pieces of paper is worth 5,000 copper coins? That is a very generous gift!” Sandun whistled loudly.
“Unfortunately, this story does not have a happy ending.” Valo Peli clearly enjoyed telling this story, though Sandun did not know why. “For reasons that may seem obvious to the wise, the Water Kingdom ended up creating far more salt notes than they actually had salt in storage! Once it became known that even with an official salt note in your hand at the Tokolas salt storage building, you could not get three hundred cats of salt…well, the value of those salt notes sank so low that eventually no one would accept them any longer. You could put them to better use filling cracks in your wall.”
“Oh.”
“Do not despair. The eight salt notes you now hold were created by the new government of Tokolas. It says so right here.” Valo Peli pointed to the words near the top. “These salt notes are different from the previous, worthless notes. If tomorrow you go to the salt storage building, they will, give you five hundred cats weight of salt per note.”
“And then I have to find someone who will buy a wagonload of salt?” Sandun wondered what merchant would buy so much salt? A butcher?
“There is a better alternative,” said Valo Peli with a smile. “You can go to a merchant, one of several who specialize in buying and selling these new salt notes. He will take the notes and give you coins in exchange. I suspect a lot of coins. Tomorrow we can visit one, and you will see.”
Sandun explained the story of the “salt notes” to Sir Ako, Basil, and Kagne. All of the men were quite skeptical of this paper money. Though they were willing to complain about carrying around heavy bags of coins, none of them wanted to see this invention spread to Kelten.
Kagne alone was willing to see some good in it. “If I could carry a piece of paper that was worth coins, at any town I came to, that would put most robbers out of business. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve spent in fear, when I was carrying coins from one place to another in the unsettled parts of Erimasran. These ‘salt notes’ are easy to conceal, no one would know I had one on me, say hidden in my boot. But it would be terrible to find the note was suddenly worth half what you thought when you first got it. By the stars, I would not be the first to take such a risk!”
The next day, the whole expedition, set out, with Valo Peli leading the way. Ashala and Russu came with them. Russu said this was the first time she had actually seen “salt notes,” though her uncle had talked about them.
Sandun took four of the salt notes with him, as well as the map. Valo Peli directed them to the west market. They came to a house right on the border of the market square. The merchant seemed to be prosperous: his house was built like a fort, with thick beams of wood and a narrow door. Large guards stood in front, gazing with an air of bored menace at the people passing by. Sandun showed the guards the salt notes, and they let him and Valo Peli enter.
Inside, the merchant, a well-dressed and narrow-faced man with a black hat, looked at the notes very carefully. He held them up to the light and pulled at the paper. Apparently satisfied, he said, “I’ll give you sixteen strings for these four notes. How do you want it?”
Valo Peli said, “Ten in silver, the rest in copper.”
The merchant made a careful entry in his logbook and then opened a large metal box using an elaborate metal key that hung around his neck. He took out ten silver bars, each with a small raised peg on the top that matched a hole on the bottom of another so they could be neatly stacked. He also took out six long strings of copper coins; no one had any desire to count all the coins on the string, but there appeared to be a thousand of them on each string.
While they were waiting, two other men came in; Sandun overheard them talking about buying salt notes for use in a city called Hutnin. Meanwhile, the salt note merchant used his large scales to weigh each silver bar, and then he used a larger weight, shaped like a sleeping cat, for the strings of copper coins. With the money all weighed, Valo Peli politely thanked the merchant, and they left.
The strings of copper coins were quite heavy, and they made a shimmering sound when they moved. Sandun gave half of the money to Sir Ako and put the rest into his reinforced bag.
From the west market, they went north, following the map, into the older part of Tokolas. Occasionally the road dipped down, and they could see beyond the city to the great river flowing through the valley below them. Tokolas was mostly built on a bluff overlooking the river, likely to avoid flooding. But part of the city went all the way down to the docks and a h
arbor that had been constructed beside the river. Following Lord Vaina’s directions, they turned off onto a side street just before the road began its steep descent.
The street was narrow, the houses old and weathered. It seemed a quiet street with nothing but tiny houses jammed against one another. One house nearby had an awning a few feet into the street, and a couple there were selling bowls of soup to passersby. The owner of the house came out and looked at them curiously and then said something like, “Men from Kelten here to see the temple!” He repeated this loudly to his wife.
She came out and looked intently at the expedition, and then she smiled and waved her hands. “Come with me, this way.”
Sandun and the others all exchanged glances but followed the woman down the street till she reached a house that looked even older and more decrepit than the others. She banged on the door and called out something. The language in this part of town was hard for Sandun to understand.
Soon the door opened, and an old, white-haired man peered out. “Men from Kelten have come,” she yelled at him. He looked up, and suddenly he smiled a great, warm smile and pushed the door open.
“Come in, come in. Thank you for coming.”
Sandun went inside the house. It was larger than it looked from the outside. A light from a window above was shining down on an old figure, carved from wood, of a man dressed in armor and carrying a spear.
A thrill of amazement went right through Sandun. He looked carefully all around the statue, while behind him the other men were murmuring exactly what he thought: “Sho’Ash.”
The old man, who was clearly a priest, came inside. Another, younger man was busy lighting candles and setting out an ancient book and a small metal chime.
“Welcome to the temple of Sho’Ash,” said the old man in the slightly too loud voice of the partially deaf. “Built more than four hundred years ago. My family has served as the priests and caretakers for many generations. This is my son, who will carry on when I’m gone.” He gestured to the younger man, who was helping to set up. “We normally hold service here once a week, but today is a perfect day to hold a service. I think right now would be best.”
The Burning Tower Page 27