The Last Mayor's Son

by Leslie E Heath

  Aibek smiled. “A tour sounds perfect. I’d love to see more of this place.”

  Faruz repeated himself. “Do you think we’ll get to meet some of the villagers? The food last night was great, but it was awful to be stuck at that table while everyone else had fun.”

  Aibek nodded. He hadn’t considered before now how hard last night must have been for his friend. Faruz deeply loved people and was never happy unless he was in the thick of a crowd. He never really cared if they included him in their activities, he simply preferred to be surrounded by people with the energy they brought with them.

  Faruz startled his companion out of his reverie. “There was a big group of people our age at the center of the dance floor last night. Maybe we could get to know some of them.”

  “That would be great.” Aibek smiled and drained the last of his drink. “But I’d prefer a tour first. I can hardly wait to explore all the corners of the village. I can’t believe how big it looks.”

  “I thought the same thing. I hate to admit it, but I expected a bunch of treehouses clustered together,” Faruz said, blushing.

  The friends all laughed, and Serik suggested they venture downstairs. The sun had risen while they talked, and he thought it was late enough now that the family should be up and ready for the day.

  ~*~

  Faruz descended the stairs behind his friends, trying to be quiet in case they were wrong about the time and the family wasn’t awake yet. They weren’t sure what the daily patterns of the village were anymore. Serik had told them over breakfast that Nivaka had always had a fairly late start to the day, and the villagers enjoyed socializing late into the night. However, Valasa had told them that for the past twenty years, no one had been allowed out of their homes after darkness fell. As they came into the sitting room below, Faruz saw that the entire family was assembled and waiting for them.

  Valasa greeted them and stood as they entered the room. “Well, well, you’re finally up and about, are you? We usually start the day before the sun rises, to make the most of the daylight. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to be out so late last night, celebrating by lamplight in the Pavilion like we used to do.” The enormous man smiled warmly.

  As he spoke, he began gathering a cloak and cane, preparing to leave for the day. Faruz’s face flushed in embarrassment. Why had they spent so long talking in Aibek’s room while his hosts were apparently up and waiting below? He’d hate for them to think he was the sort of person to sleep late into the day. He opened his mouth to explain that they had been awake for a while, then closed it again when someone spoke.

  “I’m Ayja, the lady of the house.” A soft voice issued from the rocking chair by the fireplace. “I’m truly sorry we weren’t introduced properly yesterday, but it was such a hectic day for all of us. We’re very happy you’ve come.” She rose and crossed the room while she spoke.

  Faruz could see where Ahren’s diminutive size came from. Ayja had come to stand next to him as she introduced herself, and the top of her head barely reached his chest. Aibek was even taller and towered over her when she moved closer to him. Her hair was a bright silvery white and was tied on top her head in an intricate design of braids and curls. She wore a simple flowing dress in pale purple, made of the same fabric he’d enjoyed wearing for the first time the night before.

  It was so much more comfortable than linen. Faruz didn’t think he’d ever wear his traveling clothes again, at least not if he had this zontrec as an option.

  “I don’t think you met our son, Dalan, either,” she continued, drawing Faruz back to the present. “He’s been very busy recently with his training.” She gestured to her son, then picked up a pair of gloves from the table beside the door.

  Dalan stood near the fireplace and addressed the visitors quietly, always keeping his eyes on the floor in front of his feet. “I heard you were both being educated to be officers in the army. Is that true?” He continued without pausing for an answer. “My friends and I would be very pleased if you could practice with us a bit if you’re not too busy.”

  Faruz guessed the young man was close to his own age, though it appeared he had also inherited his mother’s stature.

  Valasa answered before the visitors could form a response. “You know, your sister is planning to show our guests around the village today and introduce them to some of the important leaders in town.” He smiled and added, “I’m sure they’ll have plenty of time to help you improve your fighting skills another day.”

  Faruz sauntered over to the young man and said, “If you don’t mind giving me a quick tour first, I’d love to help you out… but only if you and your friends will spar with me a bit, too.” He grinned at Dalan and gathered his sword.

  He had known immediately that he didn’t want to spend the day with the girl glaring daggers at him and Aibek, so he jumped at the chance to do something enjoyable instead. At the moment, he didn’t care what customs he might be violating by turning down the official tour. He glanced in the direction of the group gathered at the door to make sure he hadn’t offended anyone, but no one was upset at all, at least to his own mind. They still looked friendly and smiling, except for one.

  “I guess that should be all right. I daresay you’ll enjoy sparring more than discussing the history of the council, anyway.” Ayja’s words removed any last doubts he may have had, and he rushed out behind his new companion before anyone could voice an opposing view. He carefully avoided meeting Aibek’s eyes as he left.

  As planned, the two young men went for a brief tour of the major points of the village, lingering near the enormous cisterns at the north end of town.

  Faruz was fascinated by the enormous structures. “You said these collect rainwater?”

  Dalan nodded.

  “Amazing. Then how do they get the water into the houses?”

  Dalan pointed to a heavy iron pump at the bottom of the cistern. “Each day, the servants or residents of each house come and get their water. They can come back once or twice throughout the day if they need more. There are more cisterns throughout the village, but these are the largest. Each house has an assigned cistern.”

  “Is that iron?” Faruz asked, knelt for a closer look. “Where can they keep a forge in the woods? I know Serik said the town is fireproof, but a forge? Really?”

  Dalan laughed. “Yes, we have a forge in the village, not far from here. There are a couple of blacksmiths who keep the iron parts of the cisterns and stairs in good repair.”

  Faruz was impressed. He had several more questions but decided to keep quiet. He’d made an awful lot of wrong assumptions about this town. He also thought it rather odd that the citizens insisted on calling this place a village. He thought it much too large to be a proper village. It was at least a town, and possibly a small city.

  They lingered a bit longer, then hurried to meet with three others at one of the open areas, or parks, in town. This particular park had never attracted very many children, Dalan explained, because there were no games or other attractions for them. The absence of small children was, in fact, its biggest draw for the young men who assembled there now. Each had some type of sword, and two of them also brought small daggers to use for practice. Faruz hoped they had brought something without a real blade, so he could demonstrate techniques without harming his new companions.

  As they drew near the group, Dalan shouted to his friends, “Hi, everyone, I want you to meet Faruz. He’s staying with my family for a while and wants to practice with us.”

  The newcomer was enthusiastically welcomed, and was extremely grateful Dalan hadn’t announced him as an army officer-in-training. He was uncharacteristically nervous and sincerely wanted to be liked by these young men. He had worried that Ahren’s friends might share her anger at the visitors, but the smiles on the men’s faces reassured him. He beamed as the locals stepped forward to meet him.

  “This is Wayra.” Dalan gestured to a tall, lanky young man with very short, dark hair. Then, he turned to a shor
ter, muscular man with shaggy black hair and a thick beard, “and over there is Kai.”

  “I’m Alija.” The last member of the group stepped forward to introduce himself. He was about the same height as Faruz, but with blonde hair and a slender build.

  “I’m very glad to meet you,” Alija continued. “You arrived with Eddrick’s son yesterday, didn’t you? Can you tell us something about him? Some people are afraid he’ll be as bad as Tavan before we got rid of him.” He came to stand close beside the newest member of the group, fidgeting with a string hanging from his shirt. He looked expectantly at Faruz.

  Faruz let out a little laugh and shook his head. “Well, I don’t quite know what to say to that, except that Aibek has no plans to come here and assume any kind of control over your town or its residents. He only wants to help the people protect their new freedom and learn more about the place where he was born.”

  He was more than a little uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was heading, and quickly added, “But I have no doubt he will be loved by all within a very short period of time since he is a very good sort of person.” He flashed a brief smile, raised his eyebrows and continued, “Did you say you got rid of the governor? How did you manage it? It must have been difficult, or he wouldn’t have ruled for so many years.”

  Now they all scrambled closer, talking over each other to tell their tale.

  “We waited until the middle of the night,” someone shouted near his ear.

  “We planned together and got all the leaders at the same time.”

  “I sliced the villain’s throat with my new sword!”

  Faruz couldn’t distinguish who was saying what, since they were all shouting at once, so he stood still and quiet for a breath, laughed, and asked them to choose one person to tell the story. They all glanced around at each other, then all turned and looked to their ringleader. Dalan relayed the story as the rest listened eagerly.

  “We’ve all been friends for as long as any of us can remember, and we’ve always helped each other in everything we do. The four of us have been in trouble together more than a few times, but that day was different. A group of the governor’s monitors caught us sparring with our fathers’ swords in a small clearing below the east end of the village, and hauled the lot of us in front of Tavan for judgment.”

  Faruz cringed and realized this might not be the story he had expected to hear.

  “We were offered the ‘opportunity’ to join the invaders’ army,” Dalan continued, “and told if we declined we would severely regret it since the only swordsmen were members of their army. Of course none of us were interested in joining them, so the governor sent us away while he decided on our punishment. We were held in a smalls rooms for about an hour, then brought out one by one and threatened again, separately, so we wouldn’t have our friends for support.”

  A sudden knot of anxiety twisted in Faruz’s stomach as he listened intently. He thought he knew where this story was going but hoped he was wrong.

  “When none of us would join them, he decided that the best punishment would be to make the others watch while one took the beating for the group.” He paused for a moment and looked around at his friends, his gaze lingering on Kai.

  “It was the most awful thing he could have done to us. We were shackled and couldn’t do anything as our best friend was beaten in front of us. When it was over and we were free at home, we decided together that enough was enough.” He stopped and took a deep, shaky breath before he continued. “We discovered that the guards were rather careless with their weapons. We found several swords and daggers they’d left out on benches near the watches. We collected them and prepared our plan.” As he spoke, he kept his eyes on the toes of his shoes. He only rarely looked up at his friends or their guest.

  “It took about two weeks before we were ready, and Kai was healed enough to fight. On the chosen night, in the darkness of a moonless sky, we split up and killed Tavan and all his top guards and advisors as they slept. Kai had the honor of dispatching the governor since he had endured the beating.” He stopped again and took a few more deep breaths.

  Several long minutes passed, and Faruz wondered if he would continue. Wayra started to say something, but Dalan held up his hand, and his friend remained quiet.

  “Finally,” he continued, “once the leaders were dead, we spread out and disposed of the guards on watch, then waited and killed each new guard as he came to take over their posts. By the time the sun rose, we were free again. It took about half the day for the news really to make sense to the rest of the town, but I can’t even describe how happy we all were.”

  Faruz hadn’t been there, but could almost feel the joy the villagers must have experienced. If the torture these men had endured was any indication of the governor’s brutality, the citizens here had every right to celebrate his death and fear his replacement. Faruz’s mind strayed to the note Aibek had shown him that morning. Clearly, at least one person was unhappy with the new freedom.

  “That day, we carried all the invaders’ bodies down to the lake and had a huge pyre to destroy their carcasses, but we held no ceremonies for their spirits. Soon after that, my father sent the letter to Xona to summon your friend, and now here we all are.” Dalan raised his head and looked squarely at Faruz as he finished his tale.

  “The village is still finding its way without the rules of the governor or the leadership of a mayor. No one’s quite sure what will happen next, but we all want to be prepared for when more warriors come.” While he spoke, Dalan stood as straight and tall as he could, and gestured to his sword and his friends. “Now that we’re free, we come here nearly every day to train and practice with our weapons. This is where we sorely need help. None of us have had any real training because there’s been no one to teach us.”

  Faruz grinned at the group, “Well then, let’s get started. You clearly have the bravery and planning ability to be amazing warriors. I can help with technique. I trust you have some sticks or dull blades to use for practice?”

  The friends hadn’t considered practicing with anything other than their real blades, so they spent a little time locating strong, straight sticks they could use. Once they had appropriate practice weapons, Faruz had two of them show him what they had been doing, and he wasn’t surprised to see a classic error.

  He called them together and asked, “Do you see any problems you feel you need to address? Where do you think we should begin?”

  They all looked around at each other, but no one answered.

  Faruz broke the silence. “The first thing I see is that you’re each aiming for your opponent’s weapon. When you’re battling an enemy, they’ll aim for your body or your head. You’ll need to use your weapons to block their attacks and disable your enemy. You’ll aim at their bodies, their legs, their heads – anything you can hit.”

  Dalan nodded. “That makes sense. Should we practice?”

  They spent the rest of the day learning to parry, thrust, and block. Sometimes they paired off for a practice bout, and other times their teacher would match up with one member of the group to demonstrate a new technique while the others watched. While they learned, they talked and laughed together, and Faruz was thrilled to be accepted and welcomed. He beamed his joy through the entire experience and thought the only thing that would make this day better was if Aibek were there. He couldn’t wait to tell his best friend about all of this. Twice, he almost brought up the note to the locals, but Serik’s words from the morning stopped him both times. He’d wait to see first what Valasa thought, then perhaps ask more of the citizens.

  Halfway through the day, someone produced leftover fish and vegetables from last night’s feast, and they gobbled the cold fare before continuing their practice. The sky had turned orange with the beginnings of the sunset when they finally parted and went to their respective homes for the night, fatigued and hungry from a day of extreme physical exertion.

  7

  Tour

  Ahren st
rode swiftly away from the house, keeping her chin up and never looking back to see if Aibek was with her. He trudged behind, dragging his fingers through his hair. He walked considerably slower than she did, and she stopped at the end of the walk and waited for him to catch up. He still had no clue what he had done or said to make her so angry, but he’d decided to set it to rights during the day.

  As they strode down the various boardwalks, Ahren pointed out landmarks and important citizens’ homes but didn’t speak at all beyond what was required. Aibek stared wordlessly at the detailed carvings throughout the village and the height of the trees. Over and over, he found his footsteps faltering as he gaped at a new carving or architectural wonder. At these times, Ahren stood with her hands on her hips while she waited for him to catch up. He was pleased to note that all of the homes they saw were pretty and picturesque, though most weren’t nearly as large as those in the center of town. He could hardly believe the size of the cisterns near the edge of the village that captured and stored rainwater for the citizens’ use. These, alone among the structures in the village, were built on firm ground. Not even shadow trees could support that many tons of water. He assumed their heavy metal construction made them safe against enemy attack.

  A question came to his mind and he blurted it out. “And…erm…waste products? What does the village do with them?”

  Ahren tapped her foot, eyebrows raised as if this were a foolish question. “Recycle. We recycle everything. As a tree-top village, we have no choice.” She abruptly turned and walked on. He’d have to find out how some other day.

  When they moved back toward the main parts of town, Ahren explained that the innermost part of Nivaka, where they were staying, was known as the Square—even though it was more of a hexagon—and all the homes there belonged to important members of the community. Most were empty and in need of repairs since they had been vacant for two decades. Those were the homes reserved for the council members and their families.