Matibar and Andar awaited them on the quayside with their mounts. As Thaniel came down the gangplank, he turned his head and looked at Yvan. “How do you find Seneca?” He asked.
“One gets used to trees, my lord,” Yvan replied. “And there is always grass in every season.”
Andar and Matibar inclined their heads to Aram and Ka’en.
“Welcome to Seneca, my lord and lady,” Andar stated.
They rested in Tollumi and then went on toward the northeast and Mulbar the next day. As they journeyed beneath the towering trees, it was obvious that great changes were occurring in Seneca. The stones of the ancient roadways that had been removed and stacked among the brush of the forested wayside were now being replaced as pavement. Groups of laborers were hard at work resurfacing the road every few miles.
Aram looked over at Andar. “How may I aid you in this endeavor, Your Worthiness?”
Andar smiled and shook his head. “It is our responsibility, my lord. We are simply undoing the foolishness of the past.” He turned and pointed westward. “And we are rebuilding the cities as well.” His smile widened as he looked back at Aram. “I intend that this land will someday be one of the finest in all your kingdom, Lord Aram.”
Aram returned the smile. “It is so, already,” he said.
“How is your family, Captain?” Ka’en asked of Matibar.
“You will see for yourself, my lady,” Matibar replied. “For they are at Mulbar.”
“Indeed they are,” Andar interjected. “For Captain Matibar is a counselor, now – and the one I trust most.”
Upon reaching Mulbar, Aram and his family were placed once again into the well-appointed accommodations of the common house at the bottom of the main avenue. Aram spent the next several days meeting with Seneca’s High Council. Many of the old men that had sat there before were no longer present, though a few remained. The elderly gentlemen that had witnessed Aram’s first foray into their land with a measure of reserve and even resentment were now fairly beaming with the honor of meeting their king.
Aram was surprised to see the burned post still standing at the north end of the grove. Andar saw his curious look and told him, “My father had it removed into the forest and replaced after your demonstration with the Sword, my lord.” He shrugged. “When I ascended, I brought it back as a sort of monument – and a reminder.”
Ka’en and Mae whiled the time away with Matibar’s family. The queen was especially taken with Hilri, Matibar’s tall, slim, elegant wife, and they talked extensively of motherhood. Hilri, who had given birth to four children, and was experienced in the ancient and honorable arts of both nurturing and discipline, was a fount of knowledge that Ka’en drew from daily. Mae played with Hilri’s children, all of whom were older, but very solicitous of their young and precocious playmate who learned to trust her feet and to walk and even run for the first time.
Two weeks later, when the summer was passing its fullness, Aram and Ka’en went back to Tollumi to embark for the west and Elam.
Standing on the quayside, Andar bowed to Aram. “Seneca is ever at your service, my lord,” he declared. “Whatever your need.”
Aram smiled. “The exotic lumbers produced in this land are highly prized in the west, Your Worthiness,” he replied. “May they be all that is ever at need.”
He turned to Matibar and his features grew solemn. “The battle would not have been won without the work of your archers, Captain. I thank you.”
Matibar appeared taken aback by this unexpected expression of gratitude. He frowned. “Everyone did what had to be done, my lord,” he answered.
Aram watched him for a long moment. “Yes,” he agreed then. “And may it never be forgotten.”
“Will you return, my lord?” Andar asked him. “My house will ever be open to you, and I will wish for you to see – and hopefully approve of – that which we do in years to come.”
Aram nodded. “I will return every second or third year, Your Worthiness, for as long as I am able.” He held up his hand in salute. “Farewell, my friends.”
“Farewell, my lord.”
Elam, Cumberland, Aniza, and The Plains
Despite Thaniel’s fierce attempts at convincing Aram that his hooves would take him readily and speedily into the west, thereby avoiding another contention with seasickness, Aram agreed with Keegan that the pathways of the sea would be quicker, and bring them to Elam before the end of summer. Glumly, the great horse made his way up and onto the deck, where he stood with his hooves splayed wide, and refused again to go below with the rest of his people.
Once more, they sailed forth upon the deep and Keegan set his sails for the Straits of Kolfaria.
“There is almost always foul weather in the Straits, my lady,” he told Ka’en, “but it is yet summer. I suspect we will pass through unmolested.”
“I do not mind a bit of rough weather, captain.”
Keegan nodded at this, but then looked over at Aram and Thaniel, standing uneasily side-by-side in the center of the main deck. He grinned. “Perhaps you will take my side when the king’s temper grows as foul as the weather, my lady?”
Ka’en smiled. “His temper is very much like a storm, captain – it rises quickly and often grows very dark before expending itself, but then dissipates and is followed by brightest sunshine.”
Keegan’s grin broadened. He looked up as a gust of wind caught the mainsail, making the fabric snap and pop, the ropes hum with tautness, and the main mast groan with effort. He moved quickly away. “Look lively there, lads – let’s not lose some canvass. We’ll likely need every inch of it soon enough.”
The weather, as it turned out, was very fine as they passed through the Straits of Kolfaria. Ka’en roamed the deck and gazed southward at the mysterious island, immense and dark against the hazy horizon, from which came one of her favorite beverages.
“Do you put in there often?” She inquired of Keegan.
Keegan’s eyes twinkled in response. “Oh, yes, my lady, very often.”
Something more than three weeks later the great Elamite port of Eremand came into view. As the Nighthawk cleared the southern end of a rocky, heavily forested headland that jutted into the ocean, a broad expanse of calmer water lay to the north, beyond a region of frothing agitated surf that extended westward from the end of the headland.
“Sunderland Bay,” Keegan told them. “Once we swing to the west and get around the end of the reef, we’ll enter the protected waters of the bay.” He pointed to the sunlit spires rising along the east side of the calmer water, a few miles away. “Eremand.”
Once they found the end of the reef and turned back to the northeast into the bay, the sails were furled and the sailors rowed the ship the rest of the way into the harbor of Elam’s greatest and most populous city. Aram, who had never looked upon it, along with Ka’en, gazed in wonder at the splendor that rose up a gentle slope away from the edge of the water.
Kipwing had remained behind, in Lamont, after the journey into Seneca, but Alvern had come back west and had seen to it that the winds bore news of Aram’s arrival to Elam. Marcus, Amund, Kavnaugh, Olyeg, and Thom awaited them at the docks.
After one night in Eremand, the company went northward, to Farenaire. Two days of travel brought them along the main street and toward the palace late in the afternoon.
Aram looked over at Marcus. “I see that you have repaired the doors, Your Highness.”
Marcus smiled. “I did, my lord – after you repaired our land.”
Inside the hall, another surprise awaited Aram. Not only did the horse-head, gold and crimson flag of the king fly high above the colors of Elam on the ramparts of the palace outside, but Marcus had caused a throne to be constructed at a higher level than that of the High Prince. The royal standard adorned the wall just above this higher chair.
Aram turned a curious gaze upon Marcus.
In response, the young High Prince indicated the upper throne with one hand. “Your seat, my lord,” he to
ld Aram. “It must be that whenever the king is present, the prince is lesser.”
Other than Aram and Marcus and their companions, and the palace guards, there was no one else in the hall. Aram took a moment to digest the words of the Prince and then said,
“There will be other kings – and other High Princes – in the coming years, Marcus. What might they think – and make – of this arrangement?”
Marcus shrugged, but his eyes hardened. “I care not, my lord – to be blunt.” He turned to face Aram fully. “I have seen what manner of man you are, Lord Aram, and it tells me what sort of monarch you are and will be.” He waved one hand, indicating the broad world beyond his doors. “Every action you take and every writ you execute will become precedent for all those that come after you.”
He leaned forward earnestly. “And every monarch that follows you, my lord, will be obliged to behave in a manner consistent with those precedents, as will every prince that follows me in Elam.” He straightened up and spoke solemnly. “It is my intention, my lord, to expend my life in aiding you in the making of a world that will know peace and freedom for ages to come.”
Aram nodded in sober agreement. “Thank you, Marcus.”
Then he looked up and contemplated the high throne for a moment. A slight smile spread across his face as he looked over at the High Prince. “You don’t expect me to sit there now, do you?”
Marcus laughed. “It is your seat, my lord; you may sit or not as you like.” His laughter faded and he grew serious once more. “When business is conducted in this hall, however, and you are in the land – then it is expedient that your word be weightier than mine.”
At this, Aram cast a glance over at Marcus’ companions. “If you truly mean this, Your Highness –”
Marcus frowned. “I do, my lord.”
Aram glanced over again. This time, his gaze rested for a moment on Olyeg and then upon Thom. He looked back at Marcus. “Then I would like to steal from you, my friend – with your approval, of course.”
Marcus’ frown deepened. “Steal from me?”
“I want Olyeg and Thom, Marcus,” Aram said then. “I have need of them.”
Holding up his hand to prevent a response, he continued. “The great northern plains of the world have lain long in the chains of the grim lord and will find it difficult to rise above the legacy of misery that has oppressed them for centuries. That region must be guided by a firm, wise, and trusted hand in the years immediately before us. Do you doubt this?”
Marcus shook his head. “I do not.”
Aram watched him closely. “Can you suggest a man more suited to such a task than Olyeg Kraine?”
Marcus looked at Olyeg for a long moment and then met Aram’s eyes. Reluctantly, he shook his head. “I cannot think of any man I would trust more,” he replied. But then he frowned. “Have you asked General Kraine about this, my lord?”
“I have not,” Aram conceded. “To do so is not in my province, but rather in yours, Your Highness.”
Marcus nodded slowly and then looked over. “Olyeg?”
Olyeg inclined his head. “I will do whatever is required of me, my lord, but I confess that I doubt my ability.”
Aram turned to face him. “This is not a requirement, sir, but a request.”
Kraine frowned. “This seems a task for which you yourself are much more suited, my lord – or even Marcus.”
Aram held the general’s gaze for a moment. “It is necessary to raise the people of the northern plains up out of the mire of servitude in which they have languished for generations. To do so will be exceedingly difficult labor. But it must be done – and it must be done by someone with nothing else to distract them from that task.” He waited a moment before going on. “I trust you, Olyeg – and I must place this burden upon someone I trust.”
Olyeg met his gaze and then looked for a long moment at Marcus. After another moment of hesitation, he smiled and slowly nodded. “I am old, it is true, but I admit that I am not yet ready for the grave. And I confess to doubts about my ability to accomplish that which you desire. But I must also confess that I find the chance to do something meaningful in this new world extremely gratifying. What are your instructions, my lord?” He asked Aram.
Aram nodded his thanks. “We will go with you into the north in a few days’ time. As for instructions? Just this – teach those people to manage their own lands, to care for their families, and to learn to live in freedom. I will see that any need you may discover will be met.”
Olyeg inclined his head once more. “Thank you, my lord.”
Marcus frowned at Aram and tendered a reluctant question. “You mentioned Thom as well, my lord. May I ask why?”
Aram glanced over at the general. “The men that fought with us before the tower have gone back to their homes – to their towns, villages, and farms. And that is as it should be. Nonetheless, I would like to build and retain a force that is comprised of willing young men from every land throughout the realm. A force that will stand ever ready to defend the kingdom or any of its regions against the encroachment of an enemy. A force that will answer to the throne at Regamun Mediar.”
Kavnaugh Berezan’s eyes narrowed at this. “But the enemy is defeated, is he not, my lord? Do you expect Manon to return?”
Aram shook his head. “Manon is gone for all time. But the world is large, general, and we occupy but a small part of it. What lies beyond the great Western Marsh – do you know? For I do not. And what about the regions beyond that – or to the south of the Southern Ocean?”
He met the eyes of every man in the room. “It is not that I know of an enemy that may come against us – for I do not. But it is better to prepare for the unknown in times of peace than when the enemy of which we are not aware is upon us and at the gates. Is this not wise?”
He moved one hand and indicated the eastern wall. “To the east of Seneca lies a land that is known as Farlong. The Farlongers are not a part of this kingdom, nor do I wish by force to compel them to become so. In the past, they have been but a sometimes nuisance to Seneca. What if they decide to be more than that?”
He moved his hand slightly. “To the southeast of Farlong, there are great islands, dark and mysterious, adrift upon the ocean. I saw them once, from the – I saw them once, long ago. Who or what dwells there? I know not. It is the duty of the throne at Regamun Mediar to defend all borders of the kingdom, and to do so, I must have an army – and a general to command that army.”
Every man present in that room exchanged a sober look of confirmation of the wisdom of Aram’s words with his companions.
Marcus turned to Aram and nodded. “Of course you are right, my lord.” He grinned ruefully. “So you intend to take Thom from me then?”
Aram looked at Thom. “That is, of course, up to him. And even if he accepts my request, General Sota may live wherever he likes – here in Elam, if he wishes. But I will need him to travel the far reaches of the kingdom regularly and to report back to me.”
Marcus looked over. “Thom?”
Thom’s eyes gleamed as he inclined his head in reply. “I will be honored, my lord,” he said to Aram.
Aram turned back to Marcus. “What of Cumberland? What has been done about the governance of that land in the absence of Kitchell?”
“The High Council of Cumberland has elected a man named Wethurfurd Dalez as successor to Kitchell,” Marcus answered. “Wethurfurd was a captain of Cumberland’s host and fought at the tower. Also, he was a nephew to Kitchell.” He frowned. “Because of the nature of our ancient relationship with that land, I was asked to go north and confirm the selection of Wethurfurd, my lord, but now that you are here –”
“No, Marcus,” Aram said, cutting him off. “You will of course confer the confirmation. I will go with you, for I would also like you to accompany me into Aniza, to begin the process of restoration in that land as well.” He shook his head. “There is no need to alter relationships that have stood the test of time, especially those be
tween your throne and the lands of Cumberland and Aniza.”
Then he lifted his gaze to the high seat that had been placed for him. “For the moment,” he told Marcus, smiling, “I think that I would rather sit somewhere more comfortable.”
“That can easily be arranged, my lord.”
The king and queen rested in Elam for more than a week and then the company, joined now by Marcus, Olyeg, Thom, and many others, went north to Cumberland. Wethurfurd, the soldier who had avenged the death of Kitchell, was installed as Governor-general, and then the party went westward over the hills and into Aniza where Aram officially installed Ruben as Governor of that land and Marcus promised the former cavalryman every aid in bringing about the rebirth of his homeland.
Frost was seen riming the low places in the rolling green of Cumberland and the leaves of the trees upon the northern hills were showing the first vestiges of color when Aram and Ka’en finally wished Marcus, Thom, Kavnaugh, Amund, and Olyeg farewell, leaving them to their respective tasks while they turned eastward toward Wallensia and home.
It was cool and cloudy with a lowering sky on the day that they departed Derosa and went across the hills into the valley. Despite an early start, night had fallen when they crossed the rivers.
Nikolus and Timmon were already at the city, having abandoned the high plains when an early snow threatened to close the pass. The bridge across the gorge at Rigar Pyrannis was nearing completion, they informed Aram, but was not yet ready to bear the weight of heavy traffic.
“I am sorry, my lord,” Timmon told him. “Would that we had finished within this year. One month, I assure you, after spring returns, and we will be finished.”
“It matters not,” Aram said, “for there is plenty to keep you busy afterward. But we need the treasure of my fathers in order to finance all that must be done.” He looked closely at his engineers. “The lashers?”
Nikolus laughed. “Had it not been for those great beasts,” he told Aram, “we would need much more time than another month to complete the bridge.”
Kelven's Riddle Book Five Page 48