by Aldus Baker
The stranger’s arrival does not cause a panic, but Captain Erida’s reaction does. Captain Erida is discussing the Chalmar Wars with Jalan when he glances at something behind Jalan. Erida drops the stick he is using to diagram troop movements in the dusty ground and springs from a crouch to standing while drawing his sword in one fluid motion. Jalan thought it was graceful, impressive and frightening. Almost without thinking, Jalan launches from his crouch into a forward roll that brings him to his feet behind Erida where he spins to face whatever danger made the captain draw steel.
A man of average height with lean features and white hair is walking toward them. The stranger is not carrying any weapon that Jalan can see.
“Lieutenant!” shouts Erida over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the white haired stranger. Jalan’s heart is pounding as he watches the man continue to walk toward him and the captain as though nothing unusual is happening.
“I am Krenis Enmar,” says the stranger.
“I know who you are,” says the captain in return. “The question is what do you think you are doing here?”
Lieutenant Goss and three other men storm around the corner of the stables at a full run. They all have weapons in hand as they sprint toward Erida, Jalan and the stranger.
“Captain,” says Krenis Enmar in a soft voice that carries a strong undercurrent of disapproval despite his mild tone. The man stops walking forward and stands looking relaxed and unconcerned with the end of Erida’s sword no more than a long stride away.
Erida still does not remove his eyes from the stranger as he throws up his left hand palm out toward the reinforcements and and yells, “Hold!”
Somewhat to Jalan’s amazement, they do. All four soldiers stop immediately and wait with weapons at the ready and eyes on the new arrival.
“You haven’t answered my question, Enmar,” says Captain Erida as he returns his left hand to his sword hilt.” Jalan notices the captain had taken a strong defensive stance. That seems odd because the stranger is unarmed.
“I’m here on the kings’ business to speak to the head of House Yen,” says Krenis.
Jalan sees some of the tension slip away from Captain Erida’s shoulders and back. He does not lower his sword. Lieutenant Goss and the three men with him still stand ready as well, but they exchange glances with each other, eyes no longer locked upon the stranger.
“You have a copy of your orders?” asks Erida.
“I do,” replies the stranger who sounds completely at his ease and entirely in command of the situation even though he stands alone against five armed men with more arriving as he speaks. “May I present them to you, captain?”
“We are servants of the king,” says Erida as he lowers his weapon and eases the blade back into the scabbard strapped to his left hip.
“And the king is the servant of the people,” says the white haired stranger as he slowly reaches into an interior pocket of his dusty weather stained jacket and withdraws a small leather messenger’s tube.
The words each man speaks seem like part of some ritual. Judging by the orders Lieutenant Goss starts issuing and his cajoling of the gathering crowd to move off and be about their business, things are, if not normal, then at least no longer on the verge of bloodshed. Jalan decides to remember those words.
Captain Erida looks up from a parchment he is reading. He holds the open leather tube. Its cap, covered in the remnants of a green wax seal, dangles by a string from the open end. Given the look on Erida’s face, Jalan expects to be ordered to labor in the stables. It takes him a moment to comprehend the words when Erida says, “Take Messenger Enmar to Lady Darla immediately.”
When Jalan takes a moment too long trying to sort out this strange turn of events, Erida barks out, “Today!”
“You can hardly blame the boy for being confused,” says Enmar. “A moment ago you wanted to split me down the middle with your sword.”
“I still do,” says Erida.
Krenis Enmar laughs deeply as he turns and starts walking toward the manor house without waiting for Jalan.
Chapter V
Krenis strides toward the manor. It has been years since he set foot in the place, but he is certain the front door is right where he left it. No one can say he has not been patient. But the boy is so old now. It is time to begin real training.
The boy arrives after jogging to catch up. He appears to be lean and fit. Grime covered from whatever Erida had him doing; his sun bleached hair is matted with dirt and sweat. The perspiration has carved rivulets through the filth on his face and soaked through much of his clothing which also carries its own layer of dust.
As the boy is about to speak, Krenis raises one finger. “Jalan is it?”
“Yes,” replies the boy.
“Yes, what?” says Krenis in a firm voice.
Jalan appears to consider a moment before answering, “Yes, sir.”
Krenis nods approval and asks, “You’re not going into the house like that are you?”
The boy looks truly puzzled and says, “Like what?” And belatedly adds, “Sir.”
He’s quick. “Are you going to wash up first?”
“Well, err...” stammers Jalan.
“Go get a bucket of water. Wash your hands and douse your head. One does not enter the presence of the head of a landed house while wearing most of that land upon his person.”
“It’s just Darla. She’s seen me before.”
Krenis smiles and says, “I’m sure she has. Now go on.” When Jalan still hesitates he adds, “I’ll wait here.”
The boy shrugs and leaves with the air of a child complying with one more pointless adult demand.
A few minutes later a wetter and cleaner Jalan returns. “I’ll take you to Darla now,” he says.
Krenis raises his left eyebrow in a querulous fashion but speaks with no hint of criticism. “Lady Yen, or if you please, Lady Darla.”
Jalan sighs and says, “I’ll take you to Lady Darla now.”
“Most kind of you. Lead on, please.”
Jalan opens the front door of the manor house and steps inside. Krenis follows and closes the door behind him. A short portly man in a Tan and Blue shirt hurries toward them.
“Jalan, who is your, ah, guest?” says the man.
“This is Messenger Enar...”
“Enmar,” interjects Krenis.
“Enmar,” Jalan repeats with exaggerated precision. “He is here to see D... Lady Darla.” Jalan looks toward Krenis and says, “Messenger, this is Steward Hint.”
“Does Lady Darla expect you, sir?” says the Steward in a polite but neutral tone.
“Unlikely, unless Captain Erida sent word of my arrival. I am here on king’s business and found it expedient to present myself to him first, as he made a point of greeting me personally.”
“The Captain told me to bring him to her right away,” volunteers Jalan.
Hint looks at Jalan and back to Krenis. He says, “Please take a seat in the parlor while I announce you,” and excuses himself with a slight bow.
“The parlor is this way,” says Jalan with a halfhearted sweep of his hand.
“Is something wrong?” says Krenis
“I don’t like the parlor.”
“Why not?”
Jalan shrugs and looks down. “I just don’t.” Then he walks away.
Krenis follows him in silence.
Δ
Lady Darla rises from her seat behind her worktable and moves to a mirror hanging on the wall. She is not fussy about her appearance, but others judge her by it. Taking a moment to check her hair and face, and compose her dress, she cannot help but wonder what kind of man so discomfits Captain Erida. She wonders for a moment if she should worry for her own safety. But the man claims to be a messenger from King Tamaron and Erida confirmed it. Darla has no choice but to receive the messenger.
There is a tapping at the door and Lady Shara steps in. She smiles at Darla and says, “I wish to be present when the messenger speaks t
o you.”
“Of course,” Darla says, returning her mother’s smile. “I was going to ask Steward Hint to find you before bringing the man to my study. But, now you have saved me the trouble. And, as I think on it, I believe the parlor is a better place to greet this visitor.”
Almost as if speaking his name was enough to summon him, Steward Hint appears at the door behind Lady Shara. “My lady, I have requested the cook bring refreshments as you directed,” says Hint.
“Thank you, Hint. I am afraid I will have to ask you to redirect Mistress Dahlia and have the refreshments brought to the parlor instead of here. It just seems the more suitable place to greet a messenger from the king.”
“Very well, my lady. Will there be anything else you require my ladies?”
“If you would ask Mistress Dahlia to put some of Jalan’s favorite cheese on the tray, I would be most grateful,” says Lady Shara. “I know he is with the messenger and I am certain he has not eaten since breakfast.”
“As you wish, my lady,” says the steward. He bows slightly at the waist and departs.
Shara closes the door and hesitantly turns toward her daughter. She begins to speak, pauses, and turns slightly away from Darla. “There are things I should have told you,” she confesses.
Moving closer to her mother, Darla asks gently, “What things?”
Still looking away Shara says, “Things about Jalan, about our fostering him. About whose son...” Lady Shara draws herself up and faces her daughter, “About whose son he really is. Now, when you need to know, we are out of time.”
“Mother,” says Darla softly. “There are many things I did not know when Jalan came to us. For instance, I did not know Black and Green are the colors of House Mar. Now I do. I know that Jalan is my brother and your son, no matter what other claims the world makes of him. Even the words of a king cannot change what is in our hearts. Jalan loves you. It is all right.”
The women embrace, each gaining strength from the presence of the other. Then hand in hand they leave Lady Darla’s study.
Δ
Jalan is tired of waiting. Darla always takes a long time. She can be fast if she is talking to you. But, you have to wait and wait if she is seeing someone else first, or reading some report, or working on a ledger. She makes a list of things to do each day. Jalan is sure he and the messenger are not on it.
He remembers his father was like that to. Except father would just let me walk in and then stop whatever he was doing to talk to me. It makes him feel good and bad to remember.
Jalan sits in one of the four chairs arranged around the fireplace. There is no fire. It is too hot for that. A window is open and little gusts of wind push the curtains aside. He doesn’t look at the corner of the room. He looks at the curtains. And sneaks glances at the messenger.
The messenger looks relaxed. Maybe he is used to waiting. Maybe being a messenger means that you are always interrupting people that have lists which you are not on. And, you just have to wait until they make time for you. He wonders if the messenger likes waiting. Jalan does not like waiting.
Maybe the messenger is pretending to like waiting. People are always telling Jalan to be patient. Is that what patience is? Pretending to like waiting? I could ask him.
Jalan glances at the messenger again. The man’s eyes are closed. The boy wonders if he is sleeping. He does not look like he is sleeping. His head is not hanging forward and he is sitting up straight. Because the man’s eyes are shut, Jalan feels free to take a longer look at him.
His hair is white and shaggy, but he looks younger than Jalan’s mother, Lady Shara. His neck and arms look solid. Not as big as Lieutenant Burk, but thicker than most men Jalan knows. He is tall, but not as tall as Captain Erida. His face is square and his nose is long.
The study of the messenger is cut short when the white haired man breathes deeply and then opens his eyes. Jalan keeps watching him to see what he does next.
The messenger smiles and says, “You can stop fidgeting now. The lady is here.” The man stands and the hallway door begins to open. He looks at Jalan and waves his fingers to signal that Jalan should stand as well.
As Lady Shara and Lady Darla enter, Jalan slips out of his chair and turns toward them. Lady Darla looks at the messenger and then at Jalan. He takes her look as an indication that he should introduce the white haired man.
“Darla. I mean Lady Darla,” says Jalan with a sideways look at the messenger and a slight emphasis on the word lady. “This is Messenger Enmar. Captain Erida ordered me to bring him to you.”
Darla nods and says, “Thank you, Jalan.” She turns her attention back to the messenger and says, “Welcome Messenger Enmar. What is the nature of your business with House Yen?”
While Darla addresses Messenger Enmar, Jalan watches his mother, Lady Shara. She stands a step behind and to the left of Darla and acts like she is listening, but Jalan can tell she is worried about something. He moves around Darla and Enmar and reaches out to hold hands with his mother.
Lady Shara takes his offered hand and flashes him a brief smile before looking as if she might cry. Jalan is confused by her reaction. This is the room father died in and he does not want anything to happen to her here. If he is next to her, if he is holding her hand, then it will be all right.
Darla said something to him about wanting to listen to the messenger. He was focused on his mother and is unsure what she wants. He nods, hoping that response will do.
“Very well,” says Darla.
The parlor door opens. Mistress Dahlia and Juna, the girl that sometimes helps her, enter. They carry a pitcher of wine and a tray of cheese with bread and dried fruit. Steward Hint follows them with a small serving table that he places in an open space near the center of the room. Jalan pays particular attention to the tray of food. His stomach growls and he realizes it has been a long time since breakfast. It is difficult, but he decides to pretend he likes waiting and tries not to fidget.
Lady Shara releases his hand after the tray is set on the table and wine has been offered and poured for each adult. “Go ahead, dear,” she says. “You must be hungry after your practice this morning.”
That is all the encouragement Jalan needs. He fills a small plate with little cheese wedges, some dried figs and a large slice of crusty warm bread. He picks up the cup of water he knows is his because he is not allowed to drink wine. Given the way it tasted when he was allowed a sip, he does not think he likes wine anyway. Jalan carries his plate and cup to a small end table and carefully places them on it. He looks quickly around to be sure no one is about to tell him to wait and then starts eating.
The servants have been dismissed and the parlor door is closed. The Ladies politely nibble at offerings carefully selected from the food tray. Messenger Enmar seems to have taken a number of items and is conversing with Lady Darla and Lady Shara about the weather, the condition of the roads in the district, the expected crop yields and other boring things.
Jalan has time to get some dried apple, another fig and one more cheese wedge before the three grownups finish their plates.
“Now that we have had a chance to refresh ourselves, let us all be seated and allow Messenger Enmar to deliver his missive,” says Lady Darla.
The messenger moves to a chair on one end of the semi-circle. He waits until both Lady Darla and Lady Shara are seated and then sits down. The last empty chair is between the two women. Jalan sits there.
He is still thinking about the last of the cheese when Messenger Enmar says, “Here, Lady Darla, are my credentials and the orders I was issued by King Tamaron.” Enmar hands Darla two pieces of parchment he extracts from his messenger’s tube.
Darla examines both papers and then passes them to Lady Shara. Once Shara finishes reading she returns the papers to Lady Darla.
“How long ago did you follow the band of travelers from Lavembra?” says Lady Darla.
“10 years ago, lady,” says Messenger Enmar.
The number 10 catches Jalan�
�s attention. He is 10 years old.
“Your orders were to present yourself to Lord Yen. My father never mentioned you.”
“I did present myself as ordered. Your father was not pleased to see me and neither was Captain Erida. Fortunately, I was already speaking to Lord Yen before Erida saw me and I was able to keep the king’s words private.”
“Captain Erida does take issue with you; however he did not explain the cause. Perhaps you would?”
With a steady look Enmar replies, “I cannot speak for the captain. He will have to explain himself. It would be inappropriate for me to speculate on his motivations.”
Jalan can tell Darla is frustrated by the messenger’s response. She seems to consider it for a moment before saying, “Perhaps you would speculate on why my father was unhappy to see you. As you know, I cannot ask him and therefore I must seek your opinion.”
“He thought I was the king’s royal assassin,” says Enmar in a matter of fact way.
Jalan stops thinking about cheese entirely at this point. The adult conversation now fascinates him.
“Before you feel the need to find a polite way to ask, the answer is no. I am not the royal assassin. I suppose the distinction between what I was and an assassin could be lost on the less well informed. To put it plainly, the king would send me into difficult situations where diplomacy had failed. Violence was certain to ensue in one form or another. I did my best to minimize the violence so that it impacted only those most in need of the experience.”
“Who needs violence?” Jalan wonders. He feels embarrassment for speaking his thought aloud. But, no one else seems bothered by it.
“That is a keen question,” says the messenger as he turns in his chair to look at Jalan. “Those who wish to subvert the will of the king or harm his subjects often choose violence as a way to accomplish it. Those that would use violence need violence.”