Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  The pass grew narrower, sometimes only a slim shelf on the side of the mountain, the ground falling away to my right. It curved around the side of Mount Crianuloku, which means something like dagger-clouds or blade-fog. I imagine it was named for the way the peak cuts through the clouds; it makes the sunrises violently beautiful.

  I didn’t expect to find the Rikutan camp so quickly, but it was still several hours before dusk when I heard voices around a corner of the rockface on my left. I pulled the letter from Hakan from the saddlebag, the twisting in my saddle stretching my side painfully. I sat up straighter and took a deep breath before riding around the corner. The guards were surprised, shouting at me as I stopped my horse compliantly and dismounted at their command. I wondered whether they would honor the flag that proclaimed my official mission.

  “Who might you be?” A man pushed to the front and addressed me courteously in Kumar, though the words of some of the others had been a little rougher.

  “Kemen Sendoa.” I bowed courteously, as a warrior does when he meets another warrior. It is the courtesy that signifies respect between equals who are both armed and both honorable. Courtesy that keeps your swords sheathed. “I would see your commander. I have a message for him.”

  He appraised me thoughtfully. He was tall, the top of his head just higher than my shoulder, and well built, with golden hair surrounding a handsome face. He bowed in return, graceful and appropriately courteous. “Kenta Isamu.” Kenta, straight arrow, and Isamu, righteous warrior. A good name, one that might fit him well, if his clear gaze was to be believed. “Come. You will have to disarm, of course.”

  The camp felt much like an Erdemen camp. The tents were different colors, the flags were embroidered with brilliant red Rikutan lilies rather than golden Erdemen eagles, but it was not so different. The smell of the food was much the same, simple camp fare, venison and fowl stretched to go farther by the addition of onions, tubers, and mushrooms, all roasted together on skewers over the fires. The Rikutan horses were less proud, the men’s weapons not quite as good as ours, but the camp was more familiar than alien. It gave me hope that Hakan’s offer would be well received.

  Isamu led me to the largest tent, a brilliant white, red and gold embroidered with red Rikutan lilies and the emblem of the Rikutan king. The fabric was more luxurious than I would have expected for an army officer, and I wondered if Rikutan traditions were more different than I’d realized. The men stared at me as they parted in front of Isamu to let us pass.

  I saw two Dari soldiers among their number. It was all I could do not to stare at them. I felt their eyes on me as well, interested, evaluating. One was older than I was, with officer’s stripes on his uniform, and the other young, probably not long out of training. I wanted to speak with them, to ask them how Rikuto dealt with the challenge of Dari-Tuyet relations, but it would have broken protocol. I was there as Hakan’s representative, not for my own curiosity.

  I disarmed at the entrance to the tent. If I hadn’t already been well aware of the risk of the parley, I would have realized it then. Handing over my sword and knives with a courteous bow to Isamu felt like signing an agreement with my own blood. I hoped it was worth it.

  I wasn’t afraid; I was more than willing to die for Hakan’s throne, for Erdem. It was more a feeling of humming tension, the weight of my responsibility to properly convey Hakan’s message. If I failed, if I was not courteous enough, properly respectful and yet properly proud of my own country, noble and dignified enough to be a king’s messenger, we might lose that tenuous grasp on peace. I wondered how many other soldiers were waiting beyond the next bend in the road. When the invasion might begin.

  The tent was lit by a series of small openings between the pale white and gold walls and the dark red fabric of the roof, the light streaming in as golden bars. I nearly ran into Isamu, who stopped immediately inside the door with a deep, graceful bow much like our own.

  He spoke in Rikutan to a man who was kneeling on a flat pillow behind a low table of polished dark wood. The man looked at me, and I bowed, taking care to convey great courtesy without bowing too deeply. Hakan’s message should not appear as though it came from a supplicant. Isamu bowed again and stepped to the side. Other men stood behind the commander and in a line along the right side of the tent, apparently waiting for orders.

  The commander stood gracefully, his eyes on me.

  I bowed again. “My name is Kemen Sendoa. I bring a message from Hakan Ithel, Crown Prince of Erdem, Glorious and Free, to your king Ashmu Tafari, and a request for parley about the raids over our borders.”

  The man studied me intently, his eyes not leaving me as he bowed with utmost courtesy. “I am Zuzay Tafari. I will parley with you.” His Kumar was accented but quite clear, his voice pleasant and neither too deep nor too high. He was not quite as tall as Isamu but more powerfully built, near to me in age. He too was light-haired, with golden brown eyes that were clear and honest. Zuzay, the Kumar word for pure. And the last name Tafari.

  I looked at him more closely. “Are you related to the king, Ashmu Tafari?”

  He nodded without taking his eyes from me. “Aye, he’s my elder brother.”

  I could believe it; he bore himself with royal grace. One of the men standing behind him stepped up quietly and whispered in his ear a moment. It took me a moment to recognize him as one of the two horsemen who had fled after the raid. I wondered what he was saying, my stomach tightening. I tried to remain impassive and confident.

  Tafari listened to him, his eyes on me, and finally nodded and motioned the man away. The horseman nodded tensely and stepped back, watching me with fear and a bit of what I took to be hatred.

  Tafari stared at me in silence a moment, looking a bit perplexed and very thoughtful. I wondered whether he would order me killed immediately or want to question me first.

  “Vorstin tells me you defeated the last party I sent out, except for him and one other. Alone. Is this true?”

  “Aye.”

  He looked me over with interest, cool and inscrutable. “Were you wounded?”

  “Aye.” I nodded again. He stared at me again, and I wondered what he wanted of me. A detailed retelling? A look at my ribs, with the dark bruising and the uneven row of bumps where the bones had fractured?

  “What was done with the bodies of my men?”

  “They were burned the next day.” It was the respectful thing, what any warrior would want done, and he nodded.

  “Why did you fight them? The town has plenty of food. Risking death for a bit of grain seems foolish, and I don’t take you for a fool.”

  I smiled then. “Did he not tell you the rest of what they demanded?”

  He studied me curiously.

  “Aye, they wanted food. They also demanded two or three young girls. I offered them food enough for the party for a peaceful resolution. But they refused to take only the food, so I challenged their leader to single combat to decide the issue.”

  He was staring at me intently now, his expression unreadable.

  “I won, and I hoped that would be sufficient. But the men on foot charged me, and then the three remaining horsemen. The last horseman was the one that wounded me, and the other two, the two who came back, lacked the courage to fight with their friends.” I wanted to laugh at the absurdity. I wondered what he would think, whether he would believe me over his own man. Unlikely, at best, though by his look he would simply send me on my way, my mission a failure, rather than have me executed. He looked too honorable to execute an official messenger, despite the behavior of his men.

  He glanced back at the man who had spoken to him and spoke quietly to him in Rikutan. The man stepped forward and bowed, glancing at me. I wished I could understand Rikutan. Tafari’s voice rose in quick anger and the other man shrugged a little. In a moment, Tafari nodded curtly and the man bowed, then retreated out of the tent.

  Tafari smiled politely at me. “Come, sit. You must be tired, and perhaps in pain.” He knelt again with hi
s knees on the pillow, sitting on his heels. At his motion, one of the men slipped a similar pillow in front of me, and I knelt on the other side of the low table. For the me the movement wasn’t quite so effortless. The movement pulled on the stitches in my leg, but my ribs hurt more. I tried to conceal my wince of pain, but I don’t think I was entirely successful, for he was studying me closely.

  “Forgive me for the lack of chairs. They are not very portable.”

  I nodded.

  “I did not order any girls captured. The men will be disciplined appropriately. Now, tell me about this prince, Hakan Ithel.” He leaned forward to rest his hands on the table as he spoke, and I warmed to his informality. It was not impolite, but simply less formal, as if we were two friends rather than representatives of two kingdoms nearly at war.

  I licked my lips and began. “The prince Hakan Ithel and I believe that the demand for food by the raiding party was born of desperation.”

  He sat back, his gaze quite cool and a little angry at the word. No one likes to be called desperate.

  “For this we cannot fault you or the king Ashmu Tafari. Any king will sacrifice another nation’s men to save his own people. It is the nature of a king, or at least a good one. The prince is aware of the famine in Rikuto, and understands the need. He believes our kingdoms can and should be on better terms. He is aware that trade between Erdem and Rikuto broke down when his father the king Hakan Emyr was young because of his father’s greed in asking unreasonable prices for food and other trade goods. He would seek to remedy this. He offers an initial delivery of grain as a goodwill gesture while we begin negotiations, which in turn will be aimed at reaching a permanent peace treaty and a reasonable trade agreement between our two kingdoms. In return, he expects that all raids across the border will halt immediately.”

  Tafari studied me at across the table. I handed him Hakan’s letter to the king, neatly folded and sealed with wax, and then the letter of introduction authorizing me to speak on Hakan’s behalf. He read this one twice, glancing up at me occasionally. Again I wondered what was in it.

  Finally he put it down and smiled. He looked as though smiling came naturally to him, the corners of his mouth turning up agreeably even when he was quite serious. “It seems the prince trusts you implicitly. I also am authorized to speak on my brother’s behalf, though I will not enter any binding agreements yet. Tell me more about this offer of grain.”

  Ah, so they were indeed desperate. I nodded. “The initial offer is ten wagonloads of various grains. It’s past planting season, but some of the late barleys will still give you a crop this autumn if you sow them immediately. We would deliver them to you on the Lobar Road Pass, whereupon they would become your responsibility to transport.”

  My vision was almost blurring with my need for air, and I took a deep breath, thankful for the band around my chest. Even with it, I could barely hide the pain. “Our crops were relatively good last year, but we would need three weeks to gather and deliver the grain. It would be coming from the interior, closer to Stonehaven. The outlying villages most vulnerable to your raids have the least to spare. It serves neither of us to continue squeezing them for food.” Another deep breath.

  He studied me for a moment. “Vidar rules in Stonehaven now, I believe.”

  I nodded.

  “How then will you accomplish this?”

  The question had troubled me as well. I tried to sound completely confident, as if I were telling known facts instead of a shaky idea. “Vidar rules because the people fear your kingdom. The raids have made people uneasy. There have also been raids from the north, from the Tarvil. I imagine you have suffered them as well.”

  He nodded slightly.

  “Nekane Vidar has credibility with the army and has already begun strengthening the northern border. Suvari and kedani may soon strengthen our eastern border as well.” I could not stop the cough that interrupted me. “However, the army prefers the prince Hakan Ithel, not only because the throne is rightfully his, but because he was trained for kingship from birth. They hope Vidar will protect them, but if the prince can provide peace along the borders, they will support him completely. With this agreement,” I had to stop again to cough and continued with a deep painful breath.

  “With this agreement, Hakan Ithel stands to gain the throne that is rightfully his. He needs your cooperation. But you need his as well, for Hakan Ithel has much promise as a good king, though he is young. Vidar is aggressive and less forgiving, unlikely to reach any kind of peaceful settlement with your kingdom. He will seek to solidify his position by force, both against resistance within Erdem and against your kingdom. The prince believes our kingdoms can be at peace, and will pursue it. Peaceful trade will serve the needs of both our peoples and prevent much bloodshed.” I coughed again and tried not to show how much it pained me.

  His next question surprised me, for I expected him to want more details about Hakan’s current situation, whether he even had the power to deliver what I had promised. But instead he asked, “How did a Dari come to serve in the Erdemen army?”

  “I was a foundling in Llewton, southeast of Stonehaven.”

  He nodded. I had heard that in Rikuto foundlings were trained for the army also, and by his acceptance I imagined he understood. “There aren’t many Dari in Erdem.”

  I shook my head.

  “One of my best officers is Dari. Dari are more common in my kingdom. He’s a fierce warrior, though I haven’t heard of him ever defeating twelve men alone. Or was it fourteen? The prince Hakan Ithel is fortunate to have you serve him.”

  What was the proper response to that? Yes, he is lucky to have me? Certainly not. I bowed slightly. “I am honored to serve him.”

  He studied me a moment. “He is quite young, isn’t he?”

  “Aye, eighteen now. A good man, wise for his age.” My mind felt a bit foggy as my ribs ached, and a deep breath helped clear my head, though it brought a more prolonged bout of coughing. He was watching me closely as I sat up straighter.

  “You served in the king Hakan Emyr’s army?”

  “Aye. In the suvari for four years, then I was transferred to the kedani, where I served for eleven years.”

  “You have much experience as a warrior.” It was a statement, not a question, and I merely nodded. “With leaders too, no doubt. Your army is much respected. Professional. Honorable.”

  I smiled. “I am honored that you think so.”

  He studied me a moment more before standing. I stood too. My right leg was stiff and painful, and there was no doubt he saw it that time.

  “I believe the prince Hakan Ithel is more fortunate than he realizes that you stand at his side. You may tell him that his message will be delivered to my brother the king with all due haste. I will recommend that he take your prince’s offer to begin negotiations. I cannot vouch for his answer, but he is a wise king and I think he will take it. I will send Commander Kenta Isamu with the king’s answer to the village of Senlik in fourteen days, or as near as possible. If the king’s answer is yes, then we will expect the grain three weeks after that at the place you specified.”

  I nodded. He stuck out his right arm and we clasped each other’s elbows, a warrior’s gesture of respect, friendship, and trust. He was smiling now, more lighthearted, and I imagined that he must have a woman waiting anxiously for his return.

  He said, “There will be no more raids by my orders until we have received the king’s answer.”

  I smiled in surprise. That was more than I had expected. “I’ll convey your message to the prince Hakan Ithel. I thank you for your consideration of his offer and for the courteous reception today.” I bowed to him, glad that the pain did not prevent me from doing him the honor of a deep and graceful bow. He returned the gesture with full respect.

  I would have turned then to leave, but suddenly he smiled more broadly. “Would you share the evening meal with me?”

  The request was phrased formally, not as a dinner between friends but as a
sharing of food between emissaries. Yet I thought we might be friends yet, if the peace was made and then held. “I’d be honored.” I smiled.

  He asked several of the men to open the sides of the tent so that we might enjoy the fading light.

  The meal was meager and simple, though the best they had, and I refused a second helping generously offered. The flavors were much like Erdemen campaign fare, and I thought again that our nations ought not be at war. We were too similar to face each other in battle.

  It was near the end that I realized Tafari’s purpose in opening the sides of the tent. I can only blame my difficulty breathing for my slowness in understanding, for it was quite obvious. Not only was he doing me honor, he was making the point to all his men that I was an honored guest, not simply a messenger. Perhaps the point needed to be made, at least to some of them, but I couldn’t fault his leadership.

  When we finished, he accompanied me to the door of the tent and then out into the growing darkness. Isamu and Tafari personally escorted me to my horse, where Isamu respectfully presented me with my sword and knives. I inclined my head toward them with a smile before heading off again.

  13

  I didn’t go far that night. The quick darkness of the mountains made the path treacherous. But I was on my way early the next morning and sighted Senlik perhaps an hour before nightfall. The first person to see me was little Rihol, who had been watching for my return. He came sprinting up the path and danced about beneath the horse’s hooves in excitement.