The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2)

by Olan Thorensen

  “Well, the obvious advantage is to produce heirs for the clan and, secondarily, quiet any growing murmurs about that lack.”

  “Yes to the first of those, but I doubt the second is much of a concern for our family, at least not yet. What else?”

  “He’s rich. I was astounded at the amount of coin coming monthly from his enterprises, even after all the coin he puts into setting up new trades and contributing to various causes. Moreover, it’s only going to increase from the trades and the new products he’s already introduced. Blessed God only knows what he comes up with next. He may already be one of the wealthiest men in Keelan and eventually possibly in all of Caedellium. It would clearly be to the family’s and the clan’s benefit for a close alliance with such a resource.”

  Breda noted that Maera was into her analytic mode and for the moment was not thinking of herself and her feelings.

  “It’s not just the status of his wealth that might help us, it’s how some of his ideas and the knowledge he brings from his people might help against the Narthani. I see all of the reports Father sees, and I know how much he worries about the future, but I wonder if even Father is aware of the severity of the Narthani threat. I think Yozef is, and he’s spending coin to make gunpowder and cannon. Caedellium may need every bit of help it can get to survive as a people, and I have the feeling in my bones that Yozef will somehow make a difference. How I don’t know, but all my intuition yells it at me.”

  “So,” Breda summarized matter-of-factly, “correct me if I’ve not heard right. If you were to marry Yozef, there’s a good chance you would be ‘comfortable’ with the idea, it would help begin to produce Keelan heirs, and it would bind to the family and clan a man of great wealth and knowledge. Am I missing something, or does this not sound like a reasonable argument for you to marry this Yozef Kolsko?”

  Maera stared at her mother for several seconds, then sighed and sat back in her chair. “Yes, Mother, it’s a reasonable argument. I would need time to understand what I’m feeling. This is all so new to me. I’m not accustomed to feeling confused.”

  “Maybe the best thing to do is to invite this Yozef here to Caernford for a visit,” Breda stated. “That way, you can have more time to be around him, and it’s an opportunity for your father to meet him.”

  Maera considered the suggestion briefly, then said, “Yes, I agree that’s a good plan. Even aside from myself, Father needs to meet Yozef, so he can assess for himself if and how Yozef can be helpful and to better understand how Yozef is going to change all of Caedellium, in one way or another.” Maera paused. “How much of this should I discuss with Father?”

  “Oh, I think it best to stick with the value of him meeting Yozef for himself. Let’s see how that goes and leave the other parts for later. No point in confusing your father with multiple ideas at once,” Breda said with a twinkle. “Besides, who knows what ideas might come to your father, all by themselves?”

  And with some subtle tweaks by Mother, Maera suspected.

  “Although it’s probably too soon to consider this,” said Breda, “if you decided you wanted to marry Yozef, how would it be proposed?”

  The question hadn’t occurred to Maera. By custom, the man usually proposed marriage, either to the woman or to her family. The woman taking the initiative was not uncommon; however, this was not a common situation for any of the parties.

  Maera sighed. “Oh dear, I think it would have to be either Father or myself. Yozef’s still uncomfortable with his understanding of our customs, and I doubt he’d propose on his own. I see no reason to involve Father at first. To be truthful, I’m not sure Yozef would even be interested in marrying me.”

  “He hasn’t ever shown such interest? Man to woman?” Breda watched her daughter blush.

  “Well, there was one instance at St. Sidryn’s. He kissed me.”

  Breda’s eyes widened. This was the first she’d heard of this. “What did you do?”

  Maera stared in her mother’s eyes and said with a firm voice, “I kissed him back. Then he touched me elsewhere, and I guess I panicked. It was the day before leaving, and I didn’t speak to him again. I’m afraid he worried that he’d violated some custom or law. So I wrote to him, and we’ve exchanged several polite letters.”

  “My dear, so far I’ve heard nothing to make me think we shouldn’t take a good long look at this Yozef Kolsko of yours, and getting him to Caernford is the first step.”

  Chapter 12: A Trip to Caernford

  Invited

  Maera had sent her father written reports while she was at St. Sidryn’s, and once she returned, they frequently discussed her visit, particularly the raid and her impressions of Yozef. Now, she spent several days preparing a detailed written analysis of Yozef’s introductions, estimations of his future status on Caedellium, and his contributions to the defense against the raid. She ended by suggesting that a more personal analysis by the Keelan hetman would be in order. She didn’t give the final version directly to her father but placed it, along with several other pieces of reading, into a basket for non-urgent reading on the upper left corner of his desk.

  Two days later, Culich reached Maera’s report. He read through it quickly. Then read it again, thought for a few minutes, and picked it up. He walked to the west wing of the manor and Maera’s quarters, three rooms serving as her office, sitting room, and bedroom. He would normally have knocked before entering, but he walked straight into the office. Maera was at her desk, smaller than Culich’s and infinitely neater, arranged in a corner with windows on two sides for maximum light and views of the surrounding gardens.

  Maera looked up as her father entered, and she identified the papers in his hand. She had estimated when he would reach the report and come to discuss it with her; her estimation had missed by half an hour.

  “Interesting reading, Maera,” he said, holding up the report. “I’ve heard and read much of this already, but it was useful to see it all together. I think you’re right. I need to finally meet this Kolsko myself. Abbot Sistian already urged me to visit St. Sidryn’s, since Kolsko wasn’t up to traveling yet. I considered it before the hetmen meeting, which is one reason I asked you to visit St. Sidryn’s in my place.”

  One reason, wondered Maera. There were others? Hmmm.

  “I doubt there’s a problem with Kolsko traveling, Father. Maybe when he first came to Abersford, but not now. I know he’s traveled to Clengoth several times.”

  “That settles it, then,” said Culich. “I’ll draft a letter to Sistian to tell Kolsko to come up here as soon as possible. I’ll do it right now, while I’m thinking about it, and give it to you to edit and tidy up.” Without thinking any discussion was needed, he turned and left.

  That was easy. But Father telling the abbot to order Yozef to come? She had doubts about such a directive’s reception. No Keelander would have hesitated, but Yozef? As mild-mannered and agreeable as he seemed, he wasn’t from Caedellium, and based on what she gleaned from their conversations, Maera had the impression his people gave less deference to their leaders. Might he refuse to come?

  An hour later, Culich returned. “Here’s the letter to the abbot.”

  Their custom was that she would read a draft, make changes she thought necessary, then rewrite the correspondence and return it to her father for his signature. As expected, the draft was a simple directive for Abbot Sistian to send Yozef to Caernford. Besides the implied order, there was no mention of the timing, the purpose, or the length of the visit or any indication where Yozef would stay.

  Back at her desk, she perused the draft, then amended the letter to ask Abbot Sistian if he would speak with Yozef Kolsko and request his coming to Caernford. Another read, and she added wording that the purpose of the visit was to allow Hetman Keelan to discuss past and future issues important to the clan, that accommodation would be provided at one of the manor’s guest houses, and that the hetman would appreciate Yozef’s visit. All very polite.

  Maera copied the modified let
ter on better paper and took it to her father. She held her breath as he took it from her, waiting to see if he read it before signing, and if he did, how he reacted to the changes. She exhaled slowly when he didn’t read it, signed it, and handed it back to her. He returned to his other paperwork.

  Maera all but snatched the signed letter from his hand, went back to her office, and sealed the folded letter inside the thicker outer paper. She addressed the correspondence and placed it with other outgoing mail. It would be picked up first thing the next morning and be in the mail pouch for the Abersford area later that day.

  Even with the modifications of her father’s letter, Maera wasn’t sure of Yozef’s response. She found herself both eager to see him again and nervous about his reply. She wrote a separate letter to show that she also wanted him to come and not just to meet her father. Her letter was even more carefully crafted than her changes to her father’s letter. Maera would look forward to his visit, so they could continue their discussions in person. She would show him the local sights. One last addition to the letter she included, then removed, and finally put back in. She would be happy to see him again.

  Off to See the Hetman

  For Yozef, Maera’s departure day had confirmed that he’d unwittingly overstepped. Not that he was mad at himself or her. A pleasant day, a fine picnic with wine, and a woman he liked and who gave off reciprocal signals, by Earth standards. He was still learning the rules on Caedellium and had momentarily forgotten caution. As regretful as his lapse had been, there seemed to be no lasting consequences, because two sixdays had passed without repercussions. Thus, he was surprised and slightly apprehensive when a letter from Maera waited at home one evening, delivered from the local magistrate’s office that also served as the postal station.

  He read the letter carefully, looking for references to his evident indiscretion. Nothing. It was as if it had never happened. He interpreted that all was reasonably well between them. He answered equally politely and correctly to that first letter and the several that followed. Other than the letters, his thoughts had only occasionally lingered over her.

  Besides regular stops in his various shops, he was dabbling with several ideas to improve communications. Although cannon and gunpowder were among the obvious tools of warfare, the ability to communicate and control were force multipliers. He was considering paying to construct a spur semaphore line into Abersford from the line between Caernford and Gwillamer Province. He also suggested changes to the semaphore system to allow faster and more complex messages, but so far his ideas hadn’t caught on. Not that he worried about it, because he was working on a telegraph. He hoped to have a simple test system running within a year. When finished, he then planned to work on a wireless telegraph, the next step to real radio.

  When not in his shops, he continued his workouts and weapons practice on his own and each day assiduously wrote an hour or more in his English journals. He’d recently completed 80 percent of an introductory organic chemistry text, all that his enhanced memory could recall, and he’d started on electromagnetism. Not that any human on Caedellium could have understood any of it. Someday they might, however, and who knew? Maybe elsewhere on Anyar, the science was further advanced than on Caedellium.

  His routine was interrupted the day he returned home to a new letter from Maera and a note from the abbot, asking him to come to the abbey the next day. Maera’s letter alerted him to the abbot’s request from Hetman Keelan and was the clearest sign of no permanent damage from his indiscretion with her.

  As warned, the next morning Culich passed on the hetman’s “request” that Yozef come to Caernford for a sixday. Yozef saw no reason to let the abbot know about Maera’s letter, so he pretended the invitation—or order, depending on the point of view—was news to him. He took the rest of that sixday to tidy up details of ongoing enterprises, most of which were producing products for sale and could, by now, run perfectly well without him. Those projects under development had enough inertia for a sixday. The abbot passed his acceptance back to Culich, and Yozef left for Caernford four days later.

  Yozef decided to make the fifty-mile trip in a single day. Horseback was still not his favorite mode of transportation, particularly since to make the trip in one day required a hard pace. He asked the abbot’s permission to see if Carnigan was interested in accompanying him to drive a carriage Yozef had bought. Sistian was doubtful about Carnigan’s willingness, as was Yozef, but the big man surprised them both by accepting. Although the carriage had a compartment intended for passengers, Yozef rode atop beside Carnigan, which offered better views and allowed the two of them to talk. This made Yozef feel less awkward, because he considered Carnigan a friend and not an employee.

  The countryside to Clengoth was familiar to Yozef from his previous trips to register land and hire workers, and the terrain continued the same farther north on to Caernford, with low rolling hills flanking flat river valleys covered with farms and pastures. Beyond were higher hills leading up to significant peaks, visible particularly to the east, as they neared their destination.

  They changed horses twice at stations spaced along the route. By custom, on round trips they would exchange the same horses on the return trip and end back at Abersford with their original team.

  The sun touched the eastern peaks when they pulled into what Carnigan described as Keelan Manor. Yozef didn’t know what to expect, yet the manor wasn’t a castle, since there were no obvious signs of fortifications. Whatever the Caedelli called it, it wasn’t your average Keelan home.

  Must be eight, ten thousand square feet, Yozef estimated.

  The manor appeared well maintained, with abundant windows, large verandas, and formal gardens covering perhaps three acres surrounding the house. To the right and the rear were buildings that on Earth he would guess were mother-in-law setups or guest cabins. Maybe servants’ quarters? Also to the rear were a large barn and several other working-looking structures.

  Hmmm . . . large, but not extravagant, easily appropriate for the leader of sixty thousand clanspeople, according to Maera’s numbers.

  She had expressed disdain of hetmen or their ancestors for constructing and maintaining more elaborate residences.

  They reined in on the cinder driveway where stairs led up to the front veranda. One of the large double doors opened, and out came Maera, an older woman, and two girls. Her mother and two of her sisters, Yozef assumed. A man in workman’s clothes appeared and held their team’s reins.

  He wondered whether he should have made the last part of the trip inside the carriage to look more substantial? Yet he didn’t need to pretend he was someone he wasn’t.

  He climbed down from the top of the carriage and staggered only a step or two, as his bones and muscles tried to recover from the last fifteen nonstop miles. He walked around the horses, nodding and smiling to the workman he passed, and strode to the bottom of the stairs. Among Cadwulf’s lessons in Caedelli etiquette was the custom of waiting for a verbal invitation before setting foot in a home.

  “Welcome, Ser Kolsko. I’m Breda Keelan. Welcome to our home,” said the older woman, confirming her as the hetmistress or whatever her title, if any. Yozef had a moment of panic when he realized he hadn’t gotten clued in on how to address the hetman’s wife. After a frantic few seconds of mental scrambling, he selected what he hoped was the least offensive response.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the hetman’s invitation, the opportunity to meet his wife and family, and your kind offer for me to stay here during my visit. Thank you again.” He gave a slight bow to Breda Keelan and made himself look only at the mother, though he could see the three daughters from his peripheral vision.

  Breda indicated another workman who magically appeared next to Yozef. “Norlin will see you to your rooms and give you a chance to rest from your trip. The hetman will be home in another hour, and someone will let you know when evening meal is ready.” Her gaze moved from Yozef to the carriage and Carnigan. “We’ll see to your horses a
nd carriage, and will you need accommodations for your man?”

  My man?

  “This is Carnigan Puvey, a friend and a member of St. Sidryn’s staff. He’s much better at handling horses than I am and kindly drove the carriage. He’ll be staying in Caernford.” The comment established Carnigan as a friend and contained a slight rebuke to Breda’s assumption.

  “Until evening meal, then.” She turned, and the four of them went back inside.

  “You’re sure you’ll be all right?” he asked Carnigan.

  “I think I can take care of myself,” Carnigan assured him, with a slap on Yozef’s back that only slightly jarred, because by now Yozef was accustomed to his friend’s gestures.

  “Just remember, I’ll either be at St. Tomo’s Abbey or the Galloping Horse Inn in Caernford. I’ll check in at St. Tomo’s and deliver letters from Abbot Beynom and may do work around the abbey, but I’ll stay at the inn. Let me know when you want to return to Abersford or if you need me for anything.”

  With that, Carnigan shouldered his pack and headed back down the driveway, covering ground quickly with his long strides.

  Breda and Maera watched the two men through lacy curtains on one of the manor windows.

  “Well, Yozef looks undistinguished from my first impression. But by God, the Merciful, the size of that other man. Did you see how the carriage lifted higher once he got off? I don’t know about Yozef, but the other one needs a wagon.”

  “Oh, he has a horse back at St. Sidryn’s. Of course, it’s a very large horse,” Maera said with a laugh.

  “Was I imagining it, or was your Yozef a little annoyed that I referred to . . . what’s his name? Carnigan . . . as his servant?”

  “As I’ve said, Mother, the customs of his people are different. Evidently, they discourage using address to establish social position.”

  “Hmmm, curious. I know the Word treats all people as equals, but some recognition of status seems appropriate. And Kolsko rode on top of the carriage, instead of inside. I suppose to be with his ‘friend’?”