“I’ve just heard the news!” A young man, around eighteen years old, burst into the room.
“My brother, Alain,” Siena said, and patted the chair next to her. “His name is Codrin, but he is not the one we know from Grandfather’s stories. Don’t speak, yet,” she whispered to Alain when he was seated.
“But it’s like in Grandfather dream,” Alain whispered back.
“We have a map of Arenia. It’s a place far from here,” the old man said. “In what city did you stay?”
“Alba.”
“Like in my dream.”
“May I speak alone with you and Siena?”
“You are the Seigneur,” Bernart smiled.
“It may take a while to get accustomed to being a Seigneur again,” Codrin smiled back. “Now,” Codrin said, mainly to calm his mind, when only the three of them remained in Bernart’s office. “Are you a kind of ... Wanderer?”
“Men are not Wanderers.” Amelie showed herself from behind the corner where she had been hiding; the room was L-shaped.
“Let Bernart answer that,” Codrin said, thinking that it was now too late to send her away.
“I sometimes have premonitions,” Bernart shrugged. “That doesn’t make me a Wanderer.”
Siena and Amelie are Helpers for the Wanderers, a thought came to him. Dochia and Sybille come here from time to time; the thought followed its course. I no longer trust the Wanderers, but I still trust Dochia. “I know a Wanderer named Dochia,” he stared at Siena,” but we will talk about this later. We need to lodge my men, and to feed them. We have provisions for ten days, and some more will come with the carts that are following us, but more people will come too. Amalie told me that food is scarce in the area. How do you survive here?”
“We produce some food on the inner terraces,” Bernart said. “The inner part is three thousand feet long and seven hundred feet wide. And we try to collect the taxes people owe to Poenari. It’s becoming more and more difficult.”
“Seen from the valley, the city doesn’t seem that large,” Codrin said.
Bernart nodded at Siena, who went to a small library shelf containing long thin tubes made of paper, and took out one of them, followed by Codrin’s questioning eyes. She opened the tube by pulling off a lid that was cylindrical too. From the tube, she extracted a roll of paper.
“Help me.” Siena glanced at Amelie and unrolled the paper with great care; it looked old and frail. The paper was quite large and looked like a sort of map, very different from the ones Codrin was accustomed with. The girls used four small objects to pin the corners of the map to the desk. “No one outside my family knows about this,” she said.
“I understand the need to keep everything in a small circle,” he said, acknowledging her caution.
“This is Poenari,” Bernart pointed at the map. “The map is very old; it was drawn before the Alban Empire crumbled. This is the main wall,” his finger moved in a semi-circular way on the map. “These are the basalt ridges that form our eastern and western defense walls. From the valley where you came up, they look like towers.”
“Can the ridges be climbed?” Codrin asked, and Bernart shook his head.
“No, and here, in the back, there is a large agglomeration of stones, some taller than a man. They make the other part of our defenses. On top of this agglomeration there is another wall.”
“How many men do you need to defend Poenari?” Codrin asked.
“It depends on the size of the army which lays siege to us, and what weapons they are using.”
“From the map, the rampart of the main wall is thirty feet wide. That allows us to move soldiers quickly on it. Can fifty soldiers defend for a month against an army of three thousand?”
“It may be possible.”
“Why does the wall have this trapezoidal section? It’s a ... waste of resources.”
“That’s the first question everybody asks,” Bernart smiled. “I asked it too, but there is no one who could answer my question.” During the last ten years, having a deteriorating health and more free time, Bernart spent more time in the large library which contained many old books, and he had a theory, but it was so strange. He decided to avoid it for the moment.
“I saw this kind of walls built in hill vineyards. They produce small flat levels that are easier to farm than steeper slopes and manage water drainage. There is pressure from soil, and that trapezoidal shape helps to counter it. Those walls are expensive, but they absorb heat and help to get good wine. Two walls could be built with the resources spent on the wall of Poenari, and there is nothing behind the wall to justify such waste.”
“Yes, they look like vineyards walls,” the old man said. Should I tell him? He may think me old and crazy. He is no longer leaving, so we have enough time.“The Albans made the top of the wall and the city, but the main wall of Poenari was built by the Talants, more than four thousand years ago.”
Vlaicu entered the room and stopped the old man. “All our men are inside. Where can we lodge them?”
“Siena?” Codrin asked.
“There is plenty of space, but ... it must be cleaned. That will take a while. We don’t have many people to help.”
“My soldiers can help too. Go with Vlaicu and see what can be done. I want to see the wall.”
Amelie was the best guide Codrin could have to see the main wall, which puzzled him. She knew every nook and cranny of the old city, and she was more than willing to show everything to him.
Climbing the stairs to the rampart, he saw the clear difference in quality between the Talant part of the wall, and the small one which was built on top of it by the Albans. The memory of the long entry tunnel came back to him. The difference here was similar: the dam did not seem to be built from stones tied with mortar. It seemed monolithic, like a giant carving in stone. With his dagger, he knocked on the upper wall and on the lower one. The first surface produced the expected sound of steel hitting stone, but the second hit produced a crystalline sound, as if the dam was made of steel too. He scraped at the dam with the dagger, obtaining a fine powder. It’s not steel; Codrin pondered, his fingers playing with the fine powder. Walking further, he could see places were water flowed down when it was raining, and the striations – now a few inches deep – did not reveal any hidden stone, only some traces of iron. Why put iron in the mortar? To make it stronger? But iron is so expensive...
“What are you looking at?” Amelie asked.
“The differences,” Codrin let his fingers feel the wall. “The older construction is different.”
“Smooth, and there are no stones in it.”
“Yes, it looks like made only of mortar. A very strong mortar. Do you know why?”
“No,” Amelie shrugged, “No one knows how the wall was built.”
From the top of the wall, Codrin could see the plateau in front of the city, and further on, the valley which they had come through. The plateau attracted his attention; it looked so flat that it gave the appearance of being an artificial structure, covered with grass. On the right-hand side, there was a channel cut through the small trapezoidal wall bordering the plateau on the west, fifteen feet tall, also covered by grass.
“What happens on the plateau during heavy rain?” Codrin asked.
“All the water on the plateau leaves through that channel,” Amelie pointed to her right.
If I block the channel, the plateau will be submerged. “Do you know when the last siege occurred?”
“Almost forty years ago. Grandfather was still young,” Amelie laughed. “There were ten thousand soldiers on the plateau, trying to take Poenari. They failed, but we had more soldiers at that time,” she sighed. “And the palace was still...”
“I will rebuild the palace.”
“And can we dance?”
“Yes, and I will gladly dance with you if you grant me the honor.”
“I will,” Amelie said, a large smile flowering on her lips, and took his hand. “Let me show you something.” She pulled him toward the bas
alt towers. “We have to climb,” she said when they arrived at a small stairs going up into the stones. Only one person could pass at a time.
She climbed first, and when Codrin was about to arrive at the top, she spoke again: “Don’t look yet.”
“I can’t climb without looking,” he said, amused at her enthusiasm.
“Then look toward the city. Now turn,” she said when he was inside a circular wall, almost as tall as the girl. “There,” she pointed south-west.
“That’s Orhei.”
“You knew,” she said, a touch of disappointment in her voice.
“I know Orhei, but I had no idea that we could see it from here. It’s a wonderful view, and I would never have guessed it without you.” And we can see an invading army from far away.
“Let’s sit,” Amelie said, pleased by his words. “It’s still warm.”
They sat on the stone, leaning on the wall which was indeed still warm. Codrin closed his eyes and remained like that for a while. Up here, the day was curiously peaceful, a sense of things working quietly in their proper courses, a sense of safety, a refuge from his usual concerns. Amelie watched him carefully, trying to find some resemblance between the man close to her, and the other Codrin she had seen from an old painting. She found none.
“We should return now. Thank you, Amelie. Will you join me again tomorrow? I want to see all the walls and towers.”
“Yes,” she said at once, her voice filled with delight.
They found Bernart still in his office; the old man was spending much of his day there.
“Did you see the wall?”
“I saw both walls,” Codrin said tentatively.
“We have a kind of painting representing the wall.” Bernart smiled gently, understanding the confusion in Codrin’s mind.
The old man nodded to Siena, who came with another tube from which she extracted another paper, which was different from anything Codrin had seen before. It was an old painting, but in some places the colors were still vivid. Involuntarily, Codrin touched it, and found that it was not paper at all. While flexible, it had a much harder consistency than paper, and in the places where the painting was gone, the thing was almost translucent. He rubbed gently at a colored patch and felt no painting at all; the thing was flat, like printed paper.
His eyes searched the painting: Poenari did not yet have the small wall on top of the old thing. Everything looked like the painter had viewed the dam from the top of a tall mountain, but there was no such mountain around Poenari. “This part, with all those hillocks; that’s missing now.” His finger moved from a place on the map toward the back of Poenari.
“Something destroyed the hillocks, leaving only the ridges that are now the eastern and western mountain walls of Poenari.”
“What could destroy such a large ridge?” Codrin muttered.
“We don’t know, but in the document I mentioned it’s written that it was blown up during the White Salt invasion that destroyed the Talant Empire.”
“May I see that document?”
The old man paused, and considered Codrin. He should know this already. I showed him the paper when he was still a young man, and I told him everything I knew about the walls. “Who are you?” Bernart whispered.
“My name is Codrin, but I am not the one you were expecting to return,” Codrin said in a soothing voice.
“Arenia... Alba... Did anyone tell you about my dream?”
“No, but I understand what you are thinking about this coincidence with your dream. I was born in Alba, the capital of Arenia, and moved to Frankis after my parents were killed.”
“Tell me how you left Arenia.”
“I escaped with my brother and our mentor.”
“Tell me about your mentor.”
“A tall man dressed in black, carrying two curved swords. Like this one.” Codrin placed his short sword, Flame, on the table.”
“Was he an Assassin?”
“A renegade Assassin, yes.”
“Are the swords named?”
“This one is Flame,” Codrin pointed at the sword in the table. “The second one is Shadow. It’s on my horse now.”
“Who is Baraki?”
“Baraki,” Codrin breathed. “Baraki is the man who killed my family and my mentor. He hunted me too, on my way to Frankis.”
“Like in my dream,” the old man said, no longer able to listen, his voice barely audible, and both Siena and Amelie stared at him, eyes wide open. “You escaped alone from that fight on the hill... I told no one this part of my dream.”
“That was not a dream, Bernart; you have the Light. You saw us fighting on that hill, and how I escaped alone.”
Late in the evening, Codrin talked with Siena, and even the skeptical older sister seemed to change her opinion on Codrin. Not that she thought bad of him, but she was a reserved person, not ready to trust without a reason, and she did not easily accept that with Codrin’s arrival, her Grandfather was no longer the highest authority in Poenari, and her status was perhaps diminished too.
Chapter 20 – Codrin
“Sybille!” Siena cried with joy, embracing her cousin. “You have not come for more than half a year. I was worried.”
“Sometimes you follow the problem, sometimes problems follow you,” Sybille said, embracing her too. “I am glad to be home. Home is changing,” she said after both women disengaged, clasping hands like two young girls. “From what I see in the buildings and walls it looks like good changes, but what lies behind that? How is Codrin?”
“There are more good things than bad to say about him. On the surface, he is a kind man, and he has treated us well, but I can’t really figure out what kind of man he is. I feel hidden pain in him, but he is somehow opaque, even for me, and I am still afraid that he is hiding something evil. I have the feeling that Codrin is aiming too high, and is too eager to take risks. I fear for my people. If Codrin is crushed, the common people here will suffer most of the retaliation.”
“His childhood was unusual. Codrin lost everything, and has fought hard to survive. He has always aimed high,” Sybille said carefully, wondering if she could reveal who Codrin really was, even though Siena was a Travelers’ Helper and her cousin. “And now he has lost the girl he loved; she is a prisoner in Severin, and may be forced to marry soon.”
“I’ve heard about Saliné, but he has already found consolation with another woman.”
“Are you sure?” Sybille asked in disbelief. “I did not expect that from him.”
“She carries his child, and they may have two more children together, but I am not sure about that, though Codrin acts like a father to them. Her name is Mara,” Siena said, feeling the next question to come. “They came here together from Cleuny, and she is now both the Secretary and Vistier of Poenari. Well, I am acting now as the Vistier, though I don’t have the title, and Mara is supervising me. From what I can see, he hasn’t bothered to marry her.”
“How good a Secretary is she?”
“Surprisingly good, and I wonder where she learned so much. She is experienced and knows many people and things. I have learned a lot from her. It may be that her father worked in a stronger Secretariat in the past; he seems skilled too, but he is even less talkative about his past than Mara. His name is Calin.”
“Is Mara a tall brunette?” Sybille asked, and Siena nodded. “Calin may be the former Secretary of Mehadia, and her other two children are from her marriage with Mehadin’s nephew. I need to see them without being seen. He may know me. I have something of great importance to give Codrin, but I want to be sure he is a man we can trust.”
Sybille opened her bag and took out a box. “There are some important documents inside that I brought for Codrin, but now I am no longer sure... I don’t want to carry them any further, so I will leave the box with you. I will come again in two months and then I will decide if we can trust him. Now I have to leave. I am sorry that I can’t stay overnight.”
Codrin emerged from a building jus
t as Sybille came close to the inner gate with her two guards. Wanderers, a thought spoke to him. “Stop them!” he shouted at the guards, and hurried over to Sybille, who sat astride her horse.
“Sybille is my cousin. There is no need to stop her,” Siena protested.
“Let’s talk inside,” Codrin said sharply. “Follow me,” he gestured to Sybille. “Your guards will wait here.”
“I will come too,” Siena said.
“Yes, you will come too.”
Inside what was now his office, Codrin closed the door after the two women entered. “Take a seat,” he gestured toward the empty chairs, and went to his own across the desk. “I understand that she is your cousin,” he stared at Siena, “but from now on, I want to know when a Wanderer comes to Poenari.”
“What make you think that she...?” Siena tried to ask, but Sybille stopped her.
“Are you afraid of the Wanderers?” Sybille stared at Codrin.
“Some of them tried to kill me at the end of the Spring, while another Wanderer is my friend. I suppose that you are Sybille.”
“Yes. Who tried to kill you?”
“Drusila.”
Sybille’s eyes narrowed, and she bit her lip. “Are you sure?”
“She kept saying that it was a misunderstanding, yet her nephew, Viler, provoked me into a duel to the death. It happened in Valeni, when the Circle and the Wanderers played a dirty game against Jara and Saliné. They even wanted to capture and kill Jara.”
“I don’t know much about the agreement between the Wanderers and the Circle and you that was made in Valeni, but maybe that duel was a misunderstanding; you carry a Wing Talisman.”
“There is not much trust between me and the Wanderers, so I returned it to Drusila. I still consider Dochia a friend.”
“How could you return a Wing Talisman? It’s a powerful thing.”
“Without trust, it means nothing to me. Dochia wrote me that you will bring something important.”
Sybille tried to answer, and she was now ready to give the books to him, when Mara entered the office. Codrin glanced at her.
“I will come back later,” Mara said and left the room.
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