Before he named those things, he approached Harold and gave him a warm, welcoming hug.
“Where are the aerial companions you promised to bring? All I see is a flock of birds you’ve frightened nearly halfway to death!” Righty began laughing.
Harold didn’t respond.
“You mean I’m supposed to entrust my security to these little critters?!” Righty said, beginning to grow angry, although he then immediately felt foolish, like an entitled brat who has been given far more than he deserves, only to complain for more.
“I never promised I was bringing muscle. These are lookouts, and they’re damn good ones too!”
Righty found Harold’s emphasis odd, as he was usually so matter-of-fact.
“Okay, fair enough,” Righty said. “How is this going to work? Walk me through it.”
“Okay,” Harold said. “Let’s get to know each other first.”
Harold then made a bird sound, which apparently was well understood by these small birds, as they stopped flying around in dizzying circles and landed on the ground.
“Sit down,” Harold told him, with surprising authority.
Righty reluctantly agreed, sitting against a tree.
A bird came down and landed on Righty’s hand. “I’m Laura,” she said. She giggled and then flew off.
Another bird came down and landed on his right hand. “I’m Laura’s father,” he said without any giggling, and then took off.
Then, Righty met Laura’s mother, ten cousins, eight sisters-in-law, six brothers-in-law, fourteen siblings, six uncles, three grandparents, and so on. Righty was beginning to wonder if every last one of them was related when a bird introduced himself simply as Michael. Next came Michael’s uncles, cousins, and so forth. In all, it turned out there were around two hundred birds, which came from just four separate families of about fifty each.
They all seemed very polite and cordial, and since Righty had long-ago gotten over his intellectual qualms about birds speaking, there was no hindrance in that sphere to getting to know these creatures. In fact, he found their company so pleasing he found himself forgetting momentarily that these were meant to protect his family, not to offer conversation.
“I see you tend towards large families,” Righty said. “I admire that.”
“We once had another,” Laura quickly blurted out. Righty was beginning to notice that secrets survived but briefly with this group. “He was an orphan,” Laura’s mother quickly added. “His name was Chip,” Laura’s dad said. It seemed to Righty that amongst these creatures a horrible fate must befall any who failed to provide at least one detail of the conversation at hand.
“He was a sullen bird, but the hardest worker,” Laura’s grandmother added.
“I’ll say. He worked twice as long as us without complaint,” Laura’s maternal grandfather stated.
“And with focus,” Laura’s paternal grandfather said.
“I flew with him on one mission,” an uncle of Laura’s began, “and after two days of staring at a house from atop a tall tree, I asked him if maybe we could come back another day, since it seemed no one was going to be coming out of there. And do you know what he said?!”
“Let’s give it another day or two!” an aunt of Laura’s answered, happily, and then all the konulans started laughing uproariously.
Righty noticed that, whereas humans may have found these interruptions vexing, konulans welcomed them with warmly.
Righty’s intuition informed him immediately that it would be wise to befriend these birds, as this would greatly improve their motivation to help however they could.
“It’s too bad I never got to meet this Chip,” Righty began, “but I can assure you that Harold is his better, however hard that may be to believe. He has saved my life countless times, and should he ever leave me, I don’t think I would survive long.”
Harold’s feathers hid the tears that sneaked out of his eyes, but the konulans, not so reliant on the visual senses to learn of important occurrences, smelled them. Had Righty’s nose been as acute as theirs, he would have noticed that in the world of smells a couple of important things had just transpired. His adulation of Harold had initially prompted a smell conveying deep discomfort, as they were in fact terrified of him. But they smelled his tears, and as this was the first sign of compassion they had ever witnessed in the fearsome creature, their opinion grew for him considerably within the confines of a single second.
“Harold is my right-hand man, if you will forgive the slight inaccuracy of the expression,” Righty said, eliciting happy chuckles from the konulans. “I hope his duty and his steadfastness will serve as a model to you all.” He then turned towards Harold. “Harold, how much have you explained to them about their mission?”
“Only the briefest of details, Mr. Simmers,” Harold said, departing from the usual “Richie,” as he didn’t want to impart any bad habits to the konulans; “perhaps you should explain it more fully.”
“I am a businessman,” Righty began. “What a businessman does is make money,” he continued, not sure of whether he was talking down to these birds, but he preferred to err on the side of assuming their knowledge of the world was limited. “The problem is there is a group of men that call themselves senators that sometimes tell others, ‘You can’t make money that way.’ Then, there are those who don’t mind you making money however you want, but they would prefer to have your money once you make it. And if they really hate you, they will kill you for it. And if they can’t, then they’ll kill your family just for spite.”
This brought an exclamation of horror from the konulans and a sense of outrage. While their diminutive size had made them easily bullied by Harold and Tristan, they could be quite ferocious against threats to friends and family, especially if motivated by a powerful leader.
“Now, I know you are too small to engage these men physically. That’s Harold’s job. Your job is to watch my wife to make sure that no one tries to hurt her and to watch these woods to make sure no bad men are nosing around. If anything like that happens, all you have to do is let Harold know. He’ll take over from there.”
They glanced with trepidation at Harold, whose tears had long since dried, and whose countenance suggested he eagerly awaited the opportunity to demonstrate what he would do in those situations.
“Since I can sometimes be lax in discipline, I have asked Harold to help organize you and show you the specifics of how you will alert him, but in brief I need a group of you watching my wife at all times, my house at all times, and these woods at all times, but with some of you spread out like a chain towards wherever Harold is so that you can alert each other by sound to any approaching danger.”
“I’ll show them,” Harold said confidently, and all the konulans looked bright and alert, ready to do his bidding. They hadn’t dared bring up the story about Max, but it was still vividly present in their minds.
“And now, unless Harold has any objections, you can have an hour of free time so that I can speak to him in private,” Righty said.
The konulans went flying off into the woods, and Righty then told Harold about Sam.
“I should have been there,” Harold said, with a feeling of guilt, but also with a feeling of regretting the excitement.
“You’ll have plenty more opportunities to watch my back. I’m moving to the ranch tomorrow. Production’s going up. And I’m going to start taking over Sivingdel block by block.”
Harold looked excited.
“And in just two days, we’ve got a trip to Sodorf. I’m due for my next lesson with Pitkins.” Harold looked even more thrilled.
“Harold?”
Harold looked at him intently.
“Can I entrust my family to these birds?”
“I’ll enforce the most rigid discipline, but frankly I don’t think that’s going to be too hard.”
“Why’s that?”
“They like you.”
Harold saw Righty was confused.
“Your s
ense of smell is so weak I can only explain it to you by asking you to imagine you are blind. You would be missing a whole world, right?”
Righty nodded.
“You are missing a whole world, Richie. Trust me, they like you. But I’ll fill in whatever gaps exist in their motivation in my own way,” Harold said, with a touch of malevolence. “But you’ve made the job easier.”
After that, Harold went off to show the birds important landmarks, such as the most important areas of the forest to be watched, where Righty’s house was, and the road to Sivingdel.
Righty finished his sword practice, spent an hour checking on things at his store, and then retired to private study at home, something he had neglected as of late.
That night, he took Janie to the finest restaurant in town, and afterwards they made some of the sweetest love Righty could remember since their honeymoon.
Things were looking up.
Chapter 36
The next day, Righty was back to work. But not just any work. It was finally here. After what had seemed like an eternity, but was merely a week, it was time to go claim his ranch. He got up at around 9 a.m. sharp that day, not quite able to slip back into his crack-of-dawn schedule just yet. He almost skipped his sword practice, but something told him that if he skipped it once, he would probably skip it twice. And then the next thing he knew he would find himself trapped in an alley with a month of neglect behind him fumbling his sword like his hands were bathed in butter while some tattoo-covered toughie stuck a knife between his ribs.
No, he was going to have to eat his carrots first before he had dessert.
Three hours and many more sweat droplets later, Righty sheathed his sword and told Harold it was time to begin packing. Then, the terrifying thought came to Righty that he would show up at the seller’s ranch only to find he was just tidying up a few minor odds and ends he had left until the last minute and had his good friend Steve the Sheriff there helping him—seeing as they were such good buddies and all.
And in would come Righty, flying on a giant-sized bird carrying lots of drugs, like some kind of bizarre going-away present. Steve the Sheriff would reward him for his thoughtfulness by hauling him fifty miles away to the nearest county jail, and twenty years later Righty could pick up the day where it had left off.
He almost got on Harold, empty-handed, but then he decided there was perhaps a happy medium. He could fly to a nearby mountain, then have Harold scout out the area while Righty hid there with some cargo, and then Harold could report what he saw.
Righty had already dug up three barrels of seeds, and he wanted to see how many Harold could handle.
Harold grabbed a barrel with two talons and flew a couple feet.
“Weight-wise, I think I could handle five, but they’re too awkward for me to carry that many at once. With just my talons, I think I could pick up two.”
Righty was itching to get the day moving, but he didn’t feel like running back to the house to look for a giant bag to put these things in.
“All right, grab two, and we’re off,” he said. Then, he remembered the konulans. “I want a dozen of you to come with me; the rest of you can patrol these woods. If anyone besides my wife comes patrolling around here, I want you to jab them right in the eyes with your beaks. Is that understood?”
They all nodded affirmatively, and Righty then said, “All right, the first twelve of you to get on Harold’s back are coming with me.”
This brought a frantic dash to Harold’s back, who looked less than happy with the idea, and within a couple seconds there were around fifty birds on Harold’s back.
“Am I just imagining things, or is that Laura’s entire family?” Righty asked.
This brought a series of chuckles and laughs. Righty had already been mulling the psychological benefits of having these birds work in their family groups, as this might keep their spirits and motivation high, and he thought, Why in the heck not try it now?
“All right, we’re gonna have a little experiment. You can all come,” (Harold’s face looked furious) “but you’re gonna have to make room for me. Harold will probably be flying a little slower than usual, due to the weight of these barrels, so you should be able to keep up.”
This elicited a sigh, and the younger ones got off and made room for the old. Harold looked slightly less grumpy.
As soon as Righty got on and told Harold to take off, all the konulans then started flying alongside him, as if the idea of hitching a ride had only been a joke. About an hour later, they were flying amongst the mountains. And a half hour later, Righty had Harold land inside a thick forest on a steep hill near the ranch.
“Go check her out,” Righty said. “If any of the rest of you want to keep me company, be my guest.” This was fine by Harold, who barely tolerated the few who did accompany him. Righty used the spare time to start explaining to the konulans some of his plans for them. He was liking the idea more and more of breaking the konulans up into four teams, all based on families, and giving them separate tasks each.
He began explaining what would be involved with watching the roads to and from Ringsetter and told them they should make sure to pass all these instructions on to their fellow konulans. For example, anyone with a tattoo was to be a considered a person of interest. Anyone with multiple tattoos was to be watched with great care. Anyone who ventured anywhere near Righty’s house was to be watched with excruciating closeness, and if he got within about three hundred yards they should start harassing the intruder by flying close by his ears. Righty explained that humans hate to have things fly next to their ears. This brought a round of chuckles out of the konulans, some of whom suggested they looked forward to it.
But then Righty grew serious and began explaining what they should do to someone who failed to heed a few close fly-bys. They should fly as hard and fast as they could and aim their beaks towards the eyes, ears, and throat. Meanwhile, one of them should go find Harold in case the intruder proved to be particularly obstinate and in case Harold had gotten out of range of the birds’ calls.
“I can promise you this,” Righty said. “If you watch out for my family, I’ll watch out for yours. If you see a hawk, an owl, an eagle, a falcon, a snake, or any other animal that you feel is a threat to you or anyone in your family, you just let me know, and I’ll have Harold deal with it.”
This brought contented, admiring gazes, and the konulans pledged that they would fight to the death for this family-oriented man.
The conversation might have persisted for much longer, but Harold returned.
“Coast clear?” Righty asked.
“I found this attached to the door,” Harold said, handing him a note:
Dear Mr. Simmers,
Thank you so much for convincing me to sell my ranch. You paid not just fair and square, but one heck of an amount, so out of gratitude I have left my herd of cattle. Well, it would have been a pain in the neck transporting them anyhow, but I am grateful. That brings me to something I forgot to ask you about. I’ve got thirty of the best ranch hands you could ever imagine. They live in their own quarters about two miles behind the main house, they can rope and herd cattle easier than a grandma knitting a sweater, and they keep to themselves.
I have paid them anywhere from $2,000 to $3,000 falons per month, depending on their level of experience, and believe me, you’ll make many times that back each year. Every six months, they drive some of the cattle about a hundred miles east to sell. All proceeds are yours. These are handshake folk, but if push came to shove, I reckon they’d sign a contract.
I realize that this wasn’t part of the deal, so I told them all I could do was extend it as an offer. If you don’t want them though, I only ask that you let them take the cattle with them. I’ll see to their severance pay. They’re good folks though. I don’t mean to get into a long story or scare you off on your first day, but if any roughneck types come through here causing trouble, those ranch hands will make quick work of them. I’ve had a few scrapes from
time to time with some bandits that come from the south, talking some nonsense about they need the cattle for a revolution they’re waging.
All ranch hands know how to use a bow, crossbow, and sword as easily as they do the lasso, although I know these weapons are illegal and it ain’t too smart of me to be talking about it in writing. But these people are like my sons—far better, in fact—and if it seems I’m making a sales pitch to you on their behalf, well, you got me.
I ‘d take them with me, but I’m gonna go settle down on some place small with little upkeep, and I just won’t be able to afford the ranch hands or give them the kind of work that they truly love.
It’s your decision though. They know how to take orders, but I must say it’ll break their hearts to leave this place.
The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four Page 57