A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  “You say this good road will end at Nillor?” said Yozef. “So, what is the limit of these better roads throughout South Island?”

  “It’s definitely a long-term project, with sections built only when resources are available, which is why very little new road has been built since the Narthani came. One of the roads runs from the farm area north of Brudermyn through the middle of the main farm area to Grastor, with a few spurs branching to towns and villages. The only other main section is from Brudermyn through a gap in the mountains to the west coast and then south to the town of Yallvan. That area is the second most important farming region in Seaborn.

  “From Grastor, about five miles of this type of road run along the coast southeast, but it hasn’t been extended for almost ten years. I’m afraid once we pass Nillor, this is the only other section of this type of road you’ll travel over until we approach Grastor.”

  “Something else I’ve wondered about,” said Maera. “The cattle I’ve seen here are different from those on the mainland.”

  Zalzar seemed to hesitate in answering, which was noticeable only by being different from Maera’s other interactions with the hetman’s adviser.

  “Uh . . . well . . . supposedly they were here when our clanspeople first came to the island. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask scholastics on clan history and customs for any details.”

  Yozef and Maera exchanged glances.

  Yozef sees it, too, thought Maera. Zalzar is avoiding fully answering. I’ll check with Thala later.

  When the caravan stopped briefly at Nillor to allow the local official and citizenry to greet the Paramount, both sides exchanged brief speeches. It was the second such stop since they’d left Brudermyn. Zalzar’s description of the road’s change was confirmed within a hundred yards of their passing the last Nillor structure.

  “Oomph!” went Maera as a wheel hit the first hole, and she bounced a few inches up from her seat.

  “Sorry!” the driver called out. “We’ll slow down now that the road is worse.”

  Yozef leaned out a window to check. “Sure enough. The road is different behind and in front of us. We’ve lost the elevated sections a mile back, presumably because of no threat of flooding.”

  “That’s right, Paramount,” said Zalzar. “I’ve been over this route many times in my years. We’ll start climbing into the hills soon. The lower end of Yastern Valley is only a few hundred feet higher than where we are now. The upper end is two thousand feet higher. It’s an elevation change over about two miles. Most of the terraces are in the middle portion, and that’s where we will stop. The water is a light blue color. You might not notice if you poured it from a cup, but with the depth of many terraces, the water appears bright blue. It’s quite a striking effect and is the only such place in Seaborn. The Yastern River has as one of its sources the upper end of Yastern Valley. It joins with other streams that dilute the blue color. That’s why you haven’t noticed it so far, even though we’ve been within sight of the river all the way.”

  “There’s something similar where I originally come from, Sen Zalzar,” said Yozef. “We call them travertine terraces, and the blue color is probably from minerals in the water or deposited on the bottom.”

  Yozef had visited Yellowstone Park and seen hot spring terraces there, and Heather had seen pictures taken by an aunt and an uncle when they visited Jiuzhaigou National Park in China. There, the dramatic series of terraces had aqua-blue waters. Yozef assumed the Yastern terraces had a similar geochemical explanation.

  “The light should be good enough for viewing when we arrive,” said Zalzar. “Then we’ll have half the next day before moving on to Grastor. At Yastern, a campsite with tents and food will be waiting. We’ll finish setting up while you look at the terraces.”

  By this time, they were moving into low hills, behind which were mountains. They had seen the peaks of these not long after leaving Brudermyn. Snow topped several of the tallest peaks.

  “Does the snow last all year long in these mountains?” asked Maera.

  “Not usually the ones you see now,” answered Zalzar. “Behind those and farther north and south are bigger mountains that always have snow and ice. There is one site in the north part of North Island where a high valley is covered with solid ice several hundred feet deep.”

  “A glacier,” said Yozef before noticing Zalzar’s puzzlement and Maera’s amusement.

  “It’s a word in his original language,” said Maera. “I assume it means a valley covered by deep ice.”

  “A glacier? Well . . . we have many of these glaciers on the northern part of North Island. There’s so many and the mountains are so rugged that no one lives there. I’m not sure, but I also believe Seaborn has the tallest mountains in all of Caedellium.”

  Another jolt rocked the carriage.

  We need some of Mark’s leaf springs, thought Yozef.

  “Well . . . the road is not as smooth as before,” said Maera, “but I’ve been on worse in other provinces. I think we’ve already climbed a few hundred feet. How much farther is it?”

  “Another hour and a half. We’re making good time, and the leaders of the villages we passed through were warned not to delay us too much.”

  “I’m afraid an hour and a half is a problem,” said Maera. “I have to attend to some private business fairly soon. One of those unfortunate effects of carrying a child.”

  Zalzar half choked. Yozef didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or amusement.

  “I’m sure many of the men wouldn’t mind a similar break,” said Yozef.

  An opportune setting presented itself a few minutes later in the guise of a flat meadow surrounded by trees and brush. Twenty minutes later, the caravan was moving again as they climbed higher. The road meandered through mature trees similar to large pines, with a species of green murvor flittering among the branches. Occasionally they could see and hear the stream they paralleled, the water now definitely a shade of blue.

  The first terraces were small, no more than six feet in diameter, fed by springs seeping out of a hillside. They passed several more sets of small terraces before the road entered an open valley. They were a hundred feet higher than the stream, giving them a sweeping view of terraced blue ponds stretching a quarter-mile. Water flowed from under small trees.

  “Oh, my,” whispered Maera, “It’s beautiful. Just as described, though I couldn’t quite picture it before.”

  “The terrace size increases as you move up the valley,” said Zalzar. “The stream will flow in a bed, then spread out and form terraces like you see here. Then the branches of the stream collect to flow together to the next set of terraces.

  “There’s no easy way down to what you’re seeing. We’ll continue to the next terraces, where we’ll camp at the stream level.”

  By the time they reached the next set of terraces, the road was only a few feet higher and conformed to the bends in the stream. When they emerged from the trees again, they were at the base of terraces stretching three or four times the distance across as the previous set. A twenty-foot-square tent sat against a stand of the pine-like trees. Several smaller tents were off to one side, along with two wagons, staked horses, and four men standing and watching the arrivals.

  “Here we have a few man-made paths,” said Zalzar, “but you can wander alongside the terraces. There are numerous places where dry land protrudes among them. Most of the ponds are only one or two feet deep, but there’s no problem judging the depth because the water is so clear you can see the bottom when it’s at least ten feet deep.

  “We’ll stay here for the evening. The large tent will be yours, Paramount. Sleeping mats and blankets are inside. I assume the small tents belong to the men who came before us. The rest of us will sleep under the stars.”

  “Any animals here we should worry about?” asked Yozef.

  “Nothing particularly dangerous, but you know . . . animals are animals and not always predictable,” said Zalzar. “I assume Reezo and your ma
n Ethlore will have the men check the immediate surroundings, stand guard, and accompany you and Sen Kolsko as you examine the terraces. I also believe Thala has a surprise for your wife.”

  Maera smiled. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid it’s not a surprise. She already told me, and I’m looking forward to it. And no, Yozef, I’ll let Thala show you. Then one of us will be surprised.”

  The Seaborn twins led them, escorted by the twenty Pewitt dragoons. They followed a path that entered heavy brush before opening again at a fifty-foot-wide pond with steam rising from the surface. Yozef realized the purpose of the cloths carried by two of the men who had set up the campsite.

  “A hot spring!” exclaimed Yozef.

  “There are many of these along the base of this hill,” said Thala. “You men stay here while Maera and I continue around the boulders at the other end. There’s a small pond that’s out of sight and only accessible from here. The water is like a warm bath, not quite hot. Legend has it these waters have special healing powers. I don’t know about that, but it’s wonderful to soak in them.”

  Thala took two cloths and Maera’s hand, tugging her when she hesitated. Maera looked at Yozef, smiled, and acquiesced. As soon as the two women were out of sight, Carnigan started shedding clothes.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but this looks great. We had hot springs where I grew up, but it’s been many years since I soaked in them.”

  Yozef looked at Synton and Reezo. “Well . . . why not? Have half the men stay alert while the other half get in the water. They can switch later.”

  He walked toward where Maera and Thala had disappeared around a rocky corner. He could hear splashing.

  “Are you two ladies all right?”

  “God’s Mercy,” called Maera. “Thala’s right. This is wonderful. We’ll have to think about doing something like this back home.”

  You know, maybe we could, thought Yozef. There’re no hot springs, but we already have passive solar heating of water. Surely, we can rig up something to heat enough water for a hot tub.

  He resolved to ask Mark for ideas.

  Thirty minutes later, Thala called out. “We’re getting dressed. Let us know when it’s safe for women.”

  Reezo called for all the soaking men to get decent, then gave the all-clear to his sister. The two smiling, damp-haired women walked back to the camp, escorted by Yozef, Carnigan, and ten dragoons. Synton, Reezo, and the other ten dragoons remained for their turn in the water.

  Yozef called over his shoulder, “When you’re finished, come on back to the camp, and we’ll let the other men have their turn.”

  A large fire blazed at the campsite. The two women sat on a log, finished drying their hair, and then combed while they talked. By the time the sun set, a makeshift table of boards between two logs was loaded with pots of a thick stew, whole loaves of fresh bread still steaming, platters of fruit, and smoked fish. Yozef didn’t know where it all came from but wasn’t curious enough to wait to find out. He didn’t argue with the Seaborners’ insistence that the Paramount and his wife go first. He loaded a wooden bowl to near overflowing—leaving out only the fish once he smelled it. He sat with Maera on a canvas spread out on the ground, soon joined by others on the same canvas or around the area. The exceptions were ten dragoons standing guard at the fringes of the encampment.

  The men rolled out barrels of ale, and no one noticed or complained that the beverage was warm. At least, no one voiced any comments after consuming the first few filled metal cups.

  The fire was reduced to bright coals and the stars brilliant in the clear air when Yozef prepared himself to follow Maera into their tent. She had retired long ago while Yozef talked with the men. Something nagged at him before he made a connection. He glanced around to see who was left at the fire and not asleep or on guard. Synton sat ten feet away, staring at him.

  “If I know that look, something just occurred to you. What? Some new miracle? Some devious plot?”

  “Synton, do you remember the specific tall man who was near the dock when we arrived and standing by a building. I saw him on at least one other occasion. He had a beard, but he looked like he’d shaved the hair on his head. His clothes were a little different from the other men’s, too. He had very high boots that went almost to his knee and the same sour expression both times I noticed him.”

  “Yeah, a mean-looking fucker. Second time I saw him, I asked around. He’s a Kolinkan. Off the Kolinkan trade ship that’s in the harbor. People I talked to seem to appreciate their bringing much-needed coin to the island, but nobody likes them. Why do you ask?”

  Yozef picked up a twig and threw it onto the coals. “Oh, I don’t know. I was just looking at the fire, and somehow the man popped into my mind. Maybe it’s because his eyes almost seemed to glow. I know . . . that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Well, if you start dreaming about a fire-eyed demon chasing you, wake Carnigan to deal with it. I need to get some sleep. I have the last guard shift before dawn.”

  The next morning, they ate a leisurely meal, followed by three hours of hiking around the terraced area. At mid-day, they returned to the camp to find it packed up and the caravan ready to depart.

  “We’ll need to move along as soon as we eat, Paramount, to be sure we get to Grastor before dark.”

  “This is a marvelous place,” said Maera. “You say there’re more of these areas farther up the valley?”

  “Three more areas. Two are smaller, but one is more than twice the size of this. We didn’t continue on to there because there’s no wagon road, and even on horseback it’s difficult.”

  What a place for a solitary retreat, thought Yozef. You could hike in and camp for a week.

  He felt momentary regret from missing the times he had gone to the countryside west of Abersford: the secluded valleys and dells, which seemed like different worlds; the giant oak growing alone in a small valley; jacaranda trees surrounded by California poppies; the day he’d taken Maera for a picnic, kissed her, and then was afraid he’d overstepped the bounds of propriety. He had a flash that these terraces would be added to memories of wonderful places he might never see again.

  His reverie ended when he felt a hand on his back.

  “Yozef, what if you let Thala ride in the carriage and you take her horse? Sen Zalzar is going to sit with the driver and let us girls talk without the men listening.”

  “That’s fine. I wouldn’t mind a break from the bumps, and there will be plenty of carriage time after we leave Grastor. I’d ask what you’re going to talk about in secret, not that you would tell me or that I really want to know.”

  Yozef hadn’t noticed Thala’s horse, and he wondered what mount the tall, boisterous young woman would ride. The answer was a surprise. Although a good-size horse, the gray mare was the gentlest mount Yozef had ridden since arriving on Caedellium.

  The road climbed a ridge east of Yastern Valley using a series of switchbacks the carriage and the wagons could barely manage. Several times, Yozef could hear women’s laughter coming from the carriage.

  “I guess the two of them bonded during their soak,” he said to Synton riding beside him.

  “Are you up for a wager?” Synton asked. “I’ll wager a large gold that Thala is in Orosz City within a year.”

  Yozef was taken aback. Synton was crude and undiplomatic, had no respect for authority, was no gambler if he didn’t feel certain of the outcome, and was naturally shrewd. Yet Yozef was not sure about Synton’s psychoanalytic ability.

  “Really? Why do you think that?”

  “I’ve been watching her pretty close. I don’t think being stuck here in Seaborn is what she wants for the rest of her life. Oh, I’m sure she loves her family and her clan, but I sense there’s more to her than will satisfy her here. It won’t surprise me if she wants to finish her medicant training elsewhere.”

  Yozef wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t envisioned Synton Ethlore as having particular insights into the female psyche. He decid
ed to ask Maera later, a decision he forgot about as events transpired.

  Brintyn Cove, South Island, West of Nollagen

  Frenko Holuska felt as nervous as when first briefed on the plan. Then, he’d been honest in saying he thought there were too many parts that depended on everything falling into place. He was not placated even when some of his concerns were addressed. As time passed, wheels had been set in motion twice, only to have the schedule be aborted when the Kolskos’ plans changed. By then, his reservations had faded into acceptance. Perhaps he had come to think it would never happen, but now it had. There was no going back.

  He waited on the sandy beach, the waves spending themselves just in front of him. He strained to see into the lightening darkness. Somewhere in front of him, perhaps a mile or more offshore, should be twenty Kolinkan ships. The natural rock formation that jutted almost three hundred yards out from the beach would serve as a wave break. A ship could carefully approach perpendicular to the beach, anchor, and drop a specially made ramp from the top deck to the water, which was no more than three to four feet deep at the distal end of the ramp. Then, especially designed slings would wrap around the hindquarters of a horse that would be pulled up an internal ramp from the lower to the main deck. The process sounded far too slow to Holuska, but he had been assured that testing proved it feasible to unload the horses in the time available.

  The cove had room for only one ship at a time to unload horses and men. Extra horses had been brought under the assumption some would die during the voyage, become injured, or be too weak to be immediately useful. Of the 400 horses, 20 per ship, those deemed fit for use would be unloaded, the others to be dumped at sea.

  Only two roads connected Nollagen to the rest of South Island: the route being taken by the Paramount’s party south from Grastor to Nollagen, and a second road east from the village following the coast back to Grastor. The plan called for 250 men to disembark at Brintyn Cove. Then 50 men would go north to block the road back to Grastor. The other 200 men would follow the road to Nollagen. Another 100 men and horses would land across Nollagen Bay, five miles east of Nollagen. No one would meet the second unloading, but stealth was not a factor. Those 100 men would block the second road, to finish cutting off both escape routes. Both groups would converge on the fishing village and overwhelm the villagers and Kolsko’s party. The 350 men were deemed enough to surround the village and compel surrender or to scour the immediate countryside if the Kolsko party scattered, rather than make a stand.