by Jane Baskin
Came back to present time. “Maybe sometime – after the winter – I’ll show you Cha-ning. It’s nice in spring and summer. And the women … well.”
“I’m game, as I said. I think I’d enjoy a bit of rough and tumble with a ferocious northern warrior woman.”
A shared laugh. Abruptly interrupted by a messenger arriving with news from Iskar’s older brother, in the South. Word of a final peasant offensive, putting everything they had left into assaults south of Vel and Darleigh. Selshay: directly in their path.
“Gods alive, Noar. I thought I was done with this stupid war. We were finally winning, after we drove out your northern bandits. (Drove out? We left!) I wasn’t really needed, so I decided to switch out my uniform for city clothes, have some fun. But it seems like I may be needed at home, now.”
Noar, feeling a knot in his stomach. Sauran City without Iskar? And Iskaya-te? He might as well have stayed home. And home: probably inaccessible by now. The gell harvest, probably long over. Bitter winter, probably setting in. “Do you really have to go?”
A knowing smile from Iskar. “Of course I have to go, Noar. So would you, if Cha-ning were at war, and your brother called you.”
Moments later: Iskaya-te, hurrying into the restaurant. Her eyes red; had been weeping. To her brother: “Oh Iskar! I’m sorry I was cross with you this morning! Please forgive me! I heard.”
“It’s all right, dearest. I forgive you absolutely. There’s nothing to forgive, actually. You were right, as usual. So you forgive me, in case I die in battle.”
“Iskar! Don’t say that. You’re not going to die. You’re a wonderful soldier.”
“Even wonderful soldiers get killed.”
Iskaya-te, hugging her brother desperately, burying her head in his chest. Iskar, stroking her back in comforting big brother fashion. While looking at Noar over her head. A wink, a smile.
Packing to leave. Noar, sitting in the chair in Iskar’s room. Looking glum. “This war. What a pestilence.”
Iskar, nodding. “You can say that again. Hasn’t been a peasant uprising in over two hundred years. After the last one, all they did was breed. Now there are hundreds of them to our one or two. Good thing we’re smarter in war. And better armed.”
“We heard – from travelers – that the peasants had firearms.”
“All they could steal.” A wink.
Noar, noticing that Iskar seemed in a very good mood for a man about to ride into battle. “You seem pretty cheerful, Iskar.”
“Oh all hells, why not? Life’s a merry romp in the bedroom, a good meal, a glass of brandy, a strong mug of tea, and the occasional chance to get your head shot off. What’s to complain about?”
A chuckle from Noar. “I’m not sure I’d be so philosophical about getting shot at.”
“Well, I’m sorry for you then, my good friend. This is our life. Our lives. We’re a warrior class. It’s our duty to fight, and our privilege to indulge our every whim afterward. That’s what it means to be an aristocrat.”
No reply to that. Noar, thinking about being an aristocrat. Until he came to Sauran City, until he met Iskar and Iskaya-te … until he was treated with such deference when people found out he was a lord (even a sub lord) … had never really thought about being an aristocrat. In the North, just an accident of birth, designed to put one member of a family into the provincial assembly. To provide titular leadership, guidance, for the province, nothing more. Possibly (not that often any more), to form an alliance by marriage. Just tradition. Many of his relatives in Cha-ning and the other two provinces, married to peasants – uh – People.
But now, for almost three months … had been different. Special, him. Had lived in luxury, surprisingly inexpensively. Had spent only a tiny fraction of his share of gell proceeds. In itself, a small fortune. But – surprisinglhy unnecessary, more often than not. Had been given many things … as a courtesy to his station. Meals, drinks, afternoon tea; even some clothes from posh stores. Had been treated as – better. Better than most people. Like his business was a treasure. Like he would elevate an establishment merely by his patronage.
Like Nayan.
Now, helping Iskar close his trunk. Lots more clothes and personal items in it now, than when he first arrived. Iskar, a grin. “Oh the double edged sword of money. Lovely to spend, but a pain in the rear end when it’s time to pack up.”
Noar, grinning back. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“A week or two … a month … or forever.” A wink.
“You’ll be fine.”
“I usually am. Especially in this madness. After all, they’re just peasants.”
Helped Iskar carry the heavy trunk to the porter in the hall. Returned inside to raise a glass.
An hour later, both young men: having raised quite a few glasses. Iskaya-te, coming into the room. “Iskar! Really, we should be going to the station.”
“I’m sure we have a few moments, dear one. Have a last glass with our Noar.”
This, proving too tempting for Iskaya-te to deny. Sat down, accepted a glass of brandy from her brother. A sigh. “We shall miss you so, Noar.”
Iskar: “You know, dearest, I’m wondering if you shouldn’t stay here in Sauran City, with Noar to look after you.”
Noar’s heart, skipping a beat.
“Oh Iskar! I couldn’t possibly, with you in danger.”
A smile from her brother. “Whether you worry here or worry at Selshay Castle, shouldn’t matter.”
“Oh, but it does. To me, at least. I couldn’t bear not to be near you.”
“Ah, you are the best sister in all creation. Isn’t she something, Noar? But … remember what happened to Vel and Darleigh.”
“Iskar! That would never happen at Selshay.”
“Indeed? And why not?”
A smile. “Because you’ll be protecting me.”
Noar, suddenly feeling disturbed. Something’s not right here. Looking up quickly at Iskar, then at Iskaya-te. Dismissed the thought. Replaced it with another reality: I can’t stay here alone. Not now. Without …
Looked back to Iskar. Suddenly … words coming out of his mouth. Like some wild devil put them there. Like someone else was speaking them. “You know, Iskar, I might come in handy in a fight.”
Brother and sister both pausing suddenly, as if in tableau. Finally Iskar, a wry smile: “What are you saying, Noar? You’d offer your service to Selshay? Your expert service?”
“I – I would.”
Iskar, sharing knowing looks with his sister. She, looking over at Noar. Her eyes, imploring him. “We … we would be so grateful.”
Iskar, a booming voice: “You rascal! We’d be more than grateful. We’d be honored, my good friend! But now we have to pack your trunk as well. How aggravating.” Grin.
Noar’s possessions: packed up quickly. Left his furs and northern clothes with the hotel concierge. Wouldn’t need them in Selshay. Even at this time of year, nowhere near as cold as the far North.
Iskar: “You’ll suffocate in fur lined clothes. And we’re about the same size. You can borrow battle dress from me.”
So, onto the luxury car on the southbound train. Heading for Selshay in their city finery, having lunch at an elegant table, continuing the brandy for the rest of the day.
So that when Nayan arrived in Sauran City in the late afternoon, Noar: long gone.
27.Oh, Brother
Zoren-te, only one question: Where do we start?
No revisitng the heart wrenching conversations they had had, since Nayan discovered Noar’s absence – and the apparent planning that had gone into it. Just there to help. Despite her own loathing of her husband’s younger brother. Despite her wariness around him. Despite – yes – her growing fear of him. Even so.
Love, she knew: setting aside, for a moment, one’s self interest for that of the beloved. And Zoren-te, loving Nayan deeply. Able to love, even at her tender age. Ilia-te, Dar-agan: had been right. She: a good match for him.
/> Nayan, suffering more than he expected, when he found that Noar had taken all his money with him to Sauran City. Understanding that he – at least at that moment – not planning to come back. Unusual for him. Had come home from university at every vacation, however short. Perhaps a spiteful sojourn to a northern city … this, Nayan might have expected. But leaving altogether? Nayan: having to admit he hadn’t thought Noar capable of such a thing.
Struggling with this for months. Not believing Noar had really left his home – for good. Unable to get his mind used to such a thought. Waiting … for almost three months.
I still think of him as my baby brother. I guess I shouldn’t, but I do.
He’s only two years younger than you, Nayan.
I know, I know. But I always thought of him as so much younger. He was a little slow to come into his own.
In the South … in the South, second sons and beyond are always baby brothers. They won’t ascend, so they’re free to be just … young lords. Spoiled, priviledged. Required to fight if needed, die if needed. But not required to be … serious.
This isn’t the South, Zoren.
I know. But that’s Noar. He’s like a typical, southern second son.
You can’t be serious. Noar’s a son of the North.
In some ways, yes. He’s a powerful warrior. But he’s also … as I said. I don’t say it to hurt you, Nayan. I’m just saying what I see, because it will help you understand him; maybe find him.
Oh. The truth of those words. A slow burn. Truth, searing Nayan’s northern soul. Nayan, wanting to believe in Noar as a son of the North – knowing that in many ways, he was. A fearsome fighter, hunter, worker. Strong, hardy. But – foolish too. Yes, like the “baby” brother. The proof: Zoren-te. All the disastrous and wonderful consequences of Noar’s impulsive action.
But confusing, now. Noar: always so willing to play the baby role. To be the fool. To perform his numerous impulsive, silly actions; then laugh off the consequences. Why so different now?
Two answers: one, the death of their parents. The other answer, oh. Could barely think about it: Zoren-te.
No idea why. But just … knowing.
Now: on the hunt in Sauran City. Taking rooms in a posh hotel. Not knowing, of course, this: the one directly across from the one Noar had called home for over three months. The concierge, inquiring politely how long they planned to stay. Nayan, saying only up to a week.
“I hear winter closes in rather harshly in the far North.”
“It does. It’s already started. If not for the train, we wouldn’t be here.”
A raised eyebrow. “And will the Lord and Lady of Cha-ning be able to return home, at this time of year? Perhaps we should plan for a longer stay?”
Nayan, shaking his head slowly. “No. Thank you. The train makes passage possible. Somehow, they manage to keep the tracks cleared for later in the year, now. And from the terminus to the castle is … feasible. Patrols keep it open, more or less.”
“Very good, My Lord.”
Nayan, already irritated. Not used to being called ‘My Lord.’ Not liking it.
Zoren-te, a light laugh as they headed toward their rooms. Get used to it. Your rank. Yes, even in the North. Here in the northern cities, rank counts. The cities – especially this one – are a bit of a mix of cultures. Some people say Sauran City is as much southern as northern.
Except for the universities. And the industry.
Yes, that. Smile.
A grumble from Nayan as they walked toward the room.
Then: settling in. The room, large and comfortable. Luxurious, even. The bed, big enough for all sorts of misbehavior. For the first time in several weeks, Zoren-te: seeing Nayan smile.
Deciding to take advantage of it. He needs this. Zoren-te, lying back on the bed. Smiling. Writhing herself into a comfortable position. Positioning herself … just so. Smiling again. A gift.
Nayan, of course knowing exactly what she was saying with her excellent body. In a minute: all his sorrows, all his fears … put aside for … the moment.
Most of the week, fruitlessly wandering Sauran City, as if Noar would just pop out at them from some store or café or pub. Nayan, for once not knowing what to do.
Trying to use his gift. His knowing. But: for some reason, drawing blanks. Zoren-te, swearing that the gift could be used to track a person. But Nayan, feeling like something was blocking it. The city? The numbers of people? Anxiety? Finally letting himself be guided by Zoren-te, who tried to imagine Noar’s thoughts.
Where would you go if your were Noar?
I’m not Noar. I can’t imagine what he’d do.
Of course you can. He’s your brother. You’ve known him all your life. Try – just try – to be him, just for the moment.
Good advice, that. Nayan, going out alone one afternoon while Zoren-te took a nap in the huge, inviting bed. Walking through the great park, pausing on a stone bridge that spanned a small pond. This, kept from icing over by a pleasant fountain in the middle; a floating electric heater. The latter, catching Nayan’s interest. We should bring home those new batteries … how useful they’d be. The pond, Still populated by elegant water birds who disdained to fly south for winter. The birds can stay year round, how beautiful.
Nayan, leaning over the rail, staring at the water. No clue that this very bridge was the place where his parents had found the distraught, worn down Lord Vel, back when they had come searching. No clue that this very railing, was the one on which he had leaned so forlorn, thinking of his lost ones. But such places retain their ghosts for a while, who come as needed. Perhaps the ghost of Vel, still mourning, descended in compassion to Nayan. Whatever the reason, Nayan: suddenly looking up. Toward one of the many park exits. As if drawn. Or Called.
Walked out the exit, onto the avenue. Walked, almost as if his gift were once again operational. Noar would have loved this. Two blocks up, passing an elegant store selling men’s clothing. Why here? An almost ghostly draw, filling his mind. Is it working? His logical mind, telling him that Noar would have needed new clothes for city life. Went in.
A conversation with a clerk … to a conversation with the store manager. Noar’s description, yes. The manager, all smiles. “Yes, I believe the young lord you speak of was here. If it’s the same man.” Nayan, becoming ever more detailed in his description. The manager, thinking carefully. “Obviously, you’re a gentleman, sir. Um – no disrespect intended – but we do take care regarding our customers’ privacy. May I ask, for what reason are you making inquiries?”
Nayan, catching his breath. “I’m talking about the sub lord of Cha-ning. I’m trying to find him. He’s my brother.”
The store manager, straightening up. Suddenly a marked difference in his comportment. “Forgive me, My Lord. You would then be … the Lord of Cha-ning.”
Nayan, just nodding. My Lord. This is going to take some getting used to.
The manager, obsequious now. “Yes, My Lord. The sub lord was a good customer here.”
“Can you tell me where he was lodging?”
“I wish I could, My Lord. I don’t know for certain, because his custom was to carry his own packages. We never sent anything on. But I can tell you … he was frequently in the company of the sub lord of Selshay, who, I believe, resided in one of the hotels on Varay Square.”
Nayan, receiving this gift of information silently. Thanked the store manager. Hurried back to his own hotel.
Zoren-te, awake. Fresh from the bath. Looking like a vision of all heaven. But Nayan, pushing the thoughts away. Not now.
Zoren. I found something.
She, smiling. Attentive. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Tell me.
I don’t know what it was. I was just standing on a bridge in the park, looking at the water. Something … something drew my attention to a walkway leading out of the park. I followed it to an avenue with fancy shops. I went into a men’s clothing store, where the manager told me Noar had been a customer. Didn’t know where he was stayi
ng, but said he came in with some other young lord a lot. And that lord had been staying in a hotel on this very square.
That means he was either here, or at the one across the street. It also means … we’re operational again. You were called … by something. Shared smiles, at that.
But … so uncertain.
Inquiries at their own hotel: nothing. But across the square: yes. The two young lords: well known. The fine young sub lord of Cha-ning, and his friend, a sub lord of Selshay. Along with Selshay’s sister.
Zoren-te: I know them.
Nayan, thanking the concierge, steering Zoren-te into a lounge area. Knowing the ale in the cities: all cold, by northern standards. Settled for two glasses of brandy. Knowing Noar’s habits, decided to ask the bartender if he had any recollection of him.
The bartender, bursting into a wide grin. “The sub lord of Cha-ning? And his companions? I knew them well.” Then caught himself. “Who may I ask, is making this inquiry?”
“I’m Cha-ning’s brother.”
The bartender: okay. Then a reaction similar to the store manager. Straightening up. Putting the glasses down in deference. “Then you would be the Lord of Cha-ning.”
Nayan, sighing. I’ll never get used to this. “Um. Yes, I am the Lord of Cha-ning.”
“Very good My Lord. Allow me.” Put the glasses onto a silver tray. Nayan, returning to the table. The bartender following, serving the brandy with grace.
Zoren-te, unable to resist a giggle as the bartender left. You make a very awkward Lord, my love.
“Hmmn.” Muttered aloud.
The bartender, finally getting help to take over the bar. Came over to the table. Nayan, motioning for him to sit. The bartender, looking embarrassed. Nayan: “Please. It’s easier to speak quietly if I don’t have to shout up to you.”