by C. Litka
04
'What will you do, when you get back?' Trin asked Py, from the dimness of the damp compartment during a rain shower, as CarVori, on the other side of the canvas, steered us silently through the storm. 'Naylea has her mission to complete, but your mission was just to deliver the message. Yours is done.'
'I shall, of course, report back to Cloud Home,' he said thoughtfully. 'And then - I don't know.'
'You don't know what your next assignment will be, or you don't know what you'll do when you get back,' I asked, struck by the tentative tone of his reply.
'If we get back,' he said with a faintly seen smile. 'But even if we do, I find it hard to say with certainty.'
'You have a choice?' asked Trin.
'Oh yes. We of the Outer Order, the yellow sash, make no commitment beyond conducting ourselves as fitting examples of the Way for as long as we wear the blues of the Order. Of course, no one is idle if one is a member of a community, but we do have choices as to how we are employed. When you are young, or new to the Order, you generally follow the consul of your mentor. But as you grow older, more freedom is allowed. You can follow, with the Order's approval, your own way. And, of course, you are also free to take off the blues and live outside the community, hopefully still following the Way, in an ordinary life. You can always return. Many do. So you see, I have choices.'
'So what do you think you want to do?' she asked.
I caught Naylea, giving me a wink.
'Ah, that is the question I am asking myself. I know that I will not be an advocate again.'
'Why not?'
'I think, perhaps, I was asked to be one so that I might discover that bandits are not the figures that my youthful imagination made them out to be. They are often greedy, cold, and cruel, altogether rather unpleasant people. People far off the true path. And they are not very open to changing their ways. Have you found that to be the same with you, sister?'
Naylea nodded, 'Yes, brother. The ones I've been sent to lead to the Way are usually too set in their wrong ways for words to set them onto the right path. And more active inducements rarely work either. I doubt even long watches working in the fields round after round does much to change their ways either.'
'Just so. The work, though worthy, and sometimes exciting, is often discouraging.'
'So it has cured you of your romantic notions of bandits?' I asked.
He smiled. 'There are bandits and there are bandits. I have no romantic notions about the type of bandits I have met in my advocacy.'
'And the others?'
'I am still young.'
'So what are you thinking that you would like to do?' asked the ever practical Trin. 'If not an advocate?'
'He's a wonderful magistrate,' I said. 'It seemed to be your true calling.'
'Thank you, my ever faithful lieutenant. But yes, I enjoyed being magistrate. I was sad to give it up.'
'Why did you then?' asked Trin.
'I wasn't given a choice. It seems I inadvertently stepped on the toes of important people. I took on a serious matter that some felt required older and wiser consul, which was not out of reach - a few rounds of travel - or, as it turned out, an hour or two by air-car.'
'None of which he needed,' I said. 'He handled the situation as well as any more experienced magistrate could've done.'
'Thanks to Wilitang. But it may've been seen as arrogance on my part. In any event, it was thought that I might better serve the Way as an advocate.'
'But now, after serving as one, would you like to return to being a magistrate?' asked Trin.
Py shrugged. 'I don't know. He laughed and said, 'The truth is that I'm enjoying what I'm doing right now - traveling in good company. There is a freedom in travel that I never experienced growing up in Cloud Home. Perhaps it was traveling the marches with Wilitang, KaRaya, and Hissi that made being the magistrate so pleasurable.
'In any event, if I'm to wear the blues of the Order, the Order must agree to what I choose to do, so I must consult my mentor. Perhaps I might become a traveling teacher - of the Way, or martial arts, or other studies - I have been, after all, taught many things. I am fairly knowledgable about the laws of Daeri,' he laughed. 'As well as history and legends. And, I could study on my own to learn more on many subjects. The Order has many schools on the small islands where I could teach.
'Yet, I find that I like travel, so perhaps I might put away my blues and just travel where the wind blows for a time. Have you traveled much in your career, Natta?' he asked, with a shy glance to her.
'Yes, as an officer I was never long in one posting, and in the end, traveled very far, indeed.'
'And did you enjoy that life?'
'I enjoyed my life in the service, until the usurper seized the Cloud Throne. I then found myself fighting old friends and comrades. Those were hard and desperate times. Many died, some under my command. But that is all in the past. And while I found building a business to be a worthy challenge, I think I would like to see more of these islands and, perhaps, discover a new life for myself. But that is the life we're all living at the moment, isn't it? So we should both be content and enjoying it.'
'It is, and I am. Very much,' agreed Py. 'Bounding along the long street with good companions has been all I could ask for. Why look ahead?'
Naylea flashed me a knowing smile. 'And what will we all do if we cannot get back - or not for thousands of rounds? What can we do here?'
'Maybe we can start a company that builds real, steam-powered boats,' I suggested, which started a discussion that lasted until the carriage lurched and slowed, with CarVori loudly suggested that someone watch where he was walking. Lifting the canvas flap a little, we found ourselves entering a press of wagons and pedestrians sloshing through the lazily falling rain.
'Tangardin,' CarVori called out seeing us peeking out. 'Our inn, the River Crane, is on the far side of the Vinavar River. You'll not want to miss crossing it for it is Windvera's largest and longest river. And after that, the inn, which, I for one, am eagerly looking forward to - if only to get out of this rain.'
Tangardin was the end point of our second stage. It was famous for the shallow, broad river that ran through the center of the city and for its twin fallen rock fortresses, one on each side of the river. A long, floating bridge, with a tall arch in the center to allow boat traffic to cross under it, carried us over the broad river, which had to be a kilometer wide. At the height of the arch, it provided a sweeping vista of the river with its many hundreds of boats and barges floating lightly on its smooth surface and crowding its shore with the strange godowns on tall stilts lining it. The tall stilts were a testament to the river's propensity to frequently escape its low banks in strong wind storms.
The River Crane proved to be a dry, cozy inn, a welcomed end to the second stage of our journey, though as I lay in bed after a long meal, I still felt like I was bounding along Long Street.
The rain passed while we slept, and we woke to a bright, clear endless day. After breakfast, the four of us took a walk to stretch our legs while the crew slept in a while longer. The dragons stayed behind, no doubt figuring to get a second breakfast when the crew came down for theirs.
We found our way to the bridge where we paused to lean against the railing and take in the river scene. The shoreline below was bustling with cargoes moving to and fro between the stilted godowns and swarm of rafts and boats that crowded the shoreline. The longshoremen, chanting as they tossed the crates, and sacks between the boats and the floating loading platforms, gave the scene a multi-layered rhythmic soundtrack, amplified by the rumbling of the wagons, carts and foot traffic crossing the wooden bridge just behind us. In the full light of the Pela, the shallow hulled, broad beamed boats were a riot of colors, each brightly painted and trimmed, their varied cargoes piled high. They had long sweeps and short masts mounting triangular sails in various colors and often, many patches. The river was glass-smooth and clear, its dun-colored river bed visible through it. Boats moving up and
down it seemed to be floating over the river bed, leaving no mark of their passage.
'Come along, Wilitang,' said Naylea, tugging at my arm. 'We're out to stretch our legs and see the sights, not hold up a bridge railing.'
True enough. But well, it was my life I was watching - or a primitive version of it - and it reminded me of what I had lost. I was reluctant to leave. They had to drag me away when we reached the other side as well.
We explored our side of the city and returned to the River Crane just in time to sit down to a second breakfast with the carriage crew and the dragons.