Vallyn wasn’t offended by the suggestions. “The support for the barrel is no problem. For screws, we’ll have to figure out a way to lock them in place. Maybe a toggle lock or something like that. We should be able to work that out in a few days.”
Balwis handed the rifle back to Vallyn, who passed it on to an assistant for cleaning.
“Congratulations, Vallyn. Marvelous work,” said Yozef.
The foreman smiled, then shuffled his feet, and his grin faded. “Uh, unfortunately I have to also report we’ve been unsuccessful in standardizing musket lock parts enough to be completely interchangeable. For any specific musket and any one of the lock parts, only about one in five of the same part can be easily exchanged, and even that may require minor filing or hand hammering. However, it’s still an improvement over before, where once a part was damaged, the entire weapon was useless until taken back to a gunsmith shop. If the repair teams that you envision accompanying large forces carry bins of parts, it’s a matter of finding one that closest matches the firearm needing repair and making any final adjustments to the shape. In tests, we find a skilled gunsmith can repair any single part of a musket or pistol in about ten minutes, on average, and this is without any heating needed.”
Yozef tried not to look disappointed. “I’m sure you and your men have done the best possible, Vallyn. While I’d hoped for complete interchangeability, you’ve made great progress.”
No need to tell them it’s only because we don’t have the equipment and technology here on Caedellium to do better. Maybe in a few years, but not now, and the now is what we have to deal with. At least, the solution to standardizing calibers was easier—either replacing or boring out the barrel.
Things are progressing, though not as fast as I’d like. I just hope the Narthani give us time, even if Napoleon said it was one thing no subordinate could ask him for.
When the sun settled behind the western hills, Yozef, Maera, and their escorts left Caernford, heading back to their new house. They passed one of two cartridge works now operational in Caernford, the second one up to full production only three days ago. The workers filed out of the building as the Kolsko party passed. Most workers waved, a few cheered, and a very few bowed hesitantly, those still not sure they shouldn’t be more respectful to the Kolsko family, no matter what Yozef Kolsko said. After all, someone that important and whom many believed a Septarsh, not to mention married to the hetman’s daughter—shouldn’t obvious respect be shown?
Yozef forced a smile and waved back, hiding his guilt. The workers handled lead, everywhere from mining to cartridge production, and were exposed to lead particles, dust, and smoke. The EPA and Earth doctors would have been aghast at the workers’ exposure. Yozef believed that the dire straits the clans found themselves in justified the health risks. In this case, any precautions against lead exposure would have shut down ammunition production. Worse, for Yozef, was that he hadn’t told anyone, even Diera or Maera, about the health risks. He couldn’t see any rationale for being truthful, except to assuage his guilt, which didn’t rise to enough justification.
CHAPTER 11: TO OROSZ CITY
Caernford
Preparations for the next wave of Narthani galvanized most of the clans, particularly those in the now Five-Clan Alliance and, from reports, at least Stent, Orosz, Farkesh, and Bultecki. The others were slower to respond, but Culich stayed optimistic, which Yozef told himself he needed to emulate. Although cannon production remained lower that Yozef wanted, it was steady, the cannon reliable, and the expansion of foundries continued apace. Every fighting man in the five formally allied clans finished the basic training as a dragoon and in elements of unit maneuvers. Powder and shot production reached as high a level as they could, given the available materials they needed and found within the provinces. More medical units formed, and every scrap of food not immediately consumed was stored and pre-prepared, when possible. A hundred other smaller details were addressed.
Approval came from Orosz City for Culich’s All-Clan Conclave call. The main purpose was to discuss a unified resistance to the Narthani, in light of news brought by the Fuomi. Most clans said they would attend. Even Seaborn agreed, reluctantly, complaining it was the peak of their fishing season. Pawell declined but gave no explanation. Nyvaks never responded. When Moreland, still in the throes of confusion from leadership loss at the Battle of Moreland City, never formally responded to the call, Hetman Orosz, as titular conclave chair, certified that sufficient Moreland boyermen had responded positively, and he ruled that Moreland supported the call. Thus, the formal call for the conclave went out—thereby obliging all clans, including Pawell and Nyvaks, to attend.
The importance of the conclave and the momentous decisions everyone expected to be made resulted in larger than usual representations from each clan. Any clan not cognizant of the agenda was clued in when the clans communicated the makeup of their delegations. Keelan would be represented by Culich Keelan, with Pedr Kennrick, Vortig Luwis, Abbot Sistian Beynom, and Yozef Kolsko serving as major advisers. In addition, Denes Vegga, Mulron Luwis, and Balwis Preddi were listed as military advisers. Breaking with tradition, Maera Kolsko-Keelan’s name appeared on the list as scribe and aide to Hetman Keelan. She dissuaded her husband and father from naming her as an adviser, because she felt that having women in such councils could be an unnecessary distraction.
The last names on the Keelan list were the three Fuomi leaders, already in Orosz City, with Eina Saisannin surreptitiously identified as a woman through the use of the Caedelli female pronoun to refer to her position with the Fuomi.
Kolsko Family
Kolsko family preparations for the conclave involved issues personal and practical. Maera once again felt conflicted about leaving Aeneas and excited to be part of the conclave. Even if men from other clans didn’t understand her role, she knew she would be involved in planning and advising, as much as the rest of the Keelan party.
“Maera,” said Yozef, after hearing his wife’s self-doubts for what he considered one too many times, “you have to come to terms with this. Reality is that we’re both not going to pay as much attention to Aeneas as we think we should, and I assume, at least from the standpoint of what a man can understand, that it will be worse for you. We both know the stakes and the prices to be paid if the clans are to survive. Time away from Aeneas is a tiny sacrifice compared to everything else and what many people will have to pay.”
Maera wanted to be angry at Yozef for his exasperated tone and for openly stating that her feelings of guilt were insignificant. Reluctantly, she knew he was right. What finally got through to her was that he so seldom showed irritation with her. She knew she could be imperious, and her reputation for having a temper was not undeserved. That they so seldom exchanged sharp words she considered partly due to his equanimity with her “quirks,” as he called them. Thus, his rebuke, once a few seconds had passed, served as a shock of ice-cold water. He was right. She had to “suck it up,” another of his English phrases he’d explained to her.
She took several deep breaths. “You’re right. I need to get over this. It is what it is.” She still felt angry with him, though she knew it to be irrational, something she hated. Only when he embraced her rigid body, not saying anything as he held her, did her tension melt away.
“Oh, Yozef. I’m sorry. I know Anarynd, Gwyned, Braithe, and the others will give Aeneas all the attention he needs. I guess I’m being selfish in wanting everything when everything isn’t possible. I’m especially thankful for Ana. She loves Aeneas dearly, and I’ve no reason to worry about him as long as Ana is near him.”
“Just keep those thoughts in mind, Maera. We won’t be gone long, but we’ll undoubtedly have to be away at other times in the coming year.”
For Yozef, preparations to leave included an unexpected change in the status of a friend. A sixday before leaving for Orosz City, Yozef asked a stable boy, Yuwin, to bring Seabiscuit in from grazing and saddle him. Yozef intended to ride to Caernford
for meetings and then to the dragoon training center west of Caernford. Ten minutes later, Yuwin arrived, running and breathing hard, to where Yozef read reports.
“Ser Kolsko! Something’s wrong with Seabiscuit. He won’t put weight on his left foreleg.”
Forty minutes later, twenty people had gathered around the gentle gray gelding. Balwis was examining the leg—he had come to escort Yozef to the meeting. Also present was an older man who oversaw the Keelan Manor stable and as close to a veterinarian as existed on the island. Both men agreed about Seabiscuit’s problem.
“It’s an incomplete fracture in the lower leg,” said Balwis, looking at Yozef with one eyebrow raised. “Usually, the horse is just put down. However, if we put a strong splint on the leg and keep him from moving too much, there’s a chance it will heal enough he’ll be able to walk again, but I doubt you’d ever be able to ride him for anything other than short distances.”
Maera linked an arm through one of Yozef’s. She knew how fond he was of the horse.
“If you decide it’s best to put him down, I can do it for you,” said Balwis.
Yozef didn’t speak immediately. He couldn’t. Damn it. It’s just a horse! he told himself, despite knowing Seabiscuit wasn’t just a horse. The injured animal somehow represented everything he hoped to save.
He breathed deeply, then turned to Balwis. “We’ll try to save him. Do what you can for him or find those who know what to do. If it doesn’t work and he’s suffering, I’ll do what’s necessary.”
Maera’s hand on his forearm squeezed tight. He turned to her. “I know it’s just a horse, but in a way he’s also a friend, and it’s like he represents Caedellium. He deserves a chance to live.”
Yozef held the bridle and stroked Seabiscuit while men splinted his leg. They moved him to a stable with extra straw laid thick to provide more cushioning when he put the foot down, which he started to do by the third day.
After a sixday, Balwis came to the Kolsko house to tell Yozef he thought it was going well and Seabiscuit should recover, though Yozef should be prepared never to ride him again.
“That’s okay,” Yozef said. “He can laze around pastures for the rest of his life—he’s served to the best of his ability and can retire.”
“That means you’ll need another horse, unless you want to only ride Mr. Ed,” said Balwis. “I’ve taken the liberty of finding you an appropriate new horse. It’s tied to the rail out front.”
Yozef wasn’t in the mood for a new horse, but Balwis’s concern and consideration mandated that Yozef acknowledge the gesture. They walked to the front veranda, and there Yozef beheld a coal-black stallion of at least seventeen hands, possibly more. Its coat was sleek, and muscles rippled with each move.
“Jesus, Balwis, is that a horse or what? Looks like its name should be Annihilation or maybe Yozef-Killer.” He’d spoken in English, still reverting occasionally under unexpected circumstances. Nevertheless, Balwis understood the gist of the comment.
“Now, despite how he looks fierce, he’s quite mild-mannered. I wouldn’t have brought him here otherwise. No telling what Maera would do to me if he hurt you. Give him a chance.”
And Yozef did. He mounted, nervously, only after assurance that Balwis would hold onto the head and other men stood by—just in case. The horse only casually looked back to see who the new rider was. Balwis led the horse around the yard for ten minutes before Yozef risked taking the reins himself and walking the horse. After another ten minutes, he urged the horse into a trot. Nothing untoward happened, meaning Yozef survived.
During the next two days, Yozef became satisfied with Balwis’s assessment of the horse. As impressive, some would say intimidating, as the horse appeared, he was easier to ride than Mr. Ed.
“Now that you’re satisfied,” Maera said with a grin, “I assume you’re going to give him a name that none of us understand.”
Yozef had been thinking of just that issue. As tame as the horse behaved, he looked fierce, and this was a time for fierceness. He picked a name and made the translation into Caedelli.
“His name is Man o’ War.”
Maera’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the odd name, but she instantly saw the utility, given Yozef’s growing stature and the future confrontations with the Narthani. Both Balwis and Wyfor nodded with approval. Carnigan rolled his eyes.
When time came to leave for the conclave, Man o’ War came tied behind the carriage carrying Yozef and Maera—except for periods when Yozef practiced his horsemanship or at least pretended to, because the horse needed little guidance. Carnigan noted that Yozef started to assume heroic poses whenever atop Man o’ War. On hearing the observation, Yozef tried to avoid the pose, then decided, “Why not?”
Fuomi, Orosz City
One group not needing to travel for the conclave was the Fuomi delegation. A month had passed since the Fuomi had landed at East Head Point. The Fuomi leaders had toured much of Keelan Province, along with making with a brief visit to Gwillamer’s capital. They had passed through Mittack on the way to Caernford and had met with hetmen and advisers from several other provinces, when they were allowed to travel to Orosz City in advance of the conclave. They had also talked to hundreds of the ordinary people of Caedellium, at first only through translators such as Maera, Balwis, and several recruited Narthani-speakers, and then recently with Eina, whose progress in Caedelli was astounding. They had voluminous notes, and whether it was time for them to return to their base camp in Mittack and depart Caedellium had become a more frequent topic. Saisannin urged their leaving soon after the conclave.
“Are they going to ask us for help?” Kivalian asked Rintala and Saisannin.
“I would assume so,” responded Saisannin, sighing. “The All Mighty knows they could use all the help possible. Unfortunately, there’s little we can do beyond the advice and information we’ve given them so far.”
“I know,” agreed Kivalian. “It galls me, though.”
He slammed a fist on the table around which they sat.
“I’ve unexpectedly come to have tremendous respect for these islanders. The thought of them being ground under by the Narthani leaves a bitter taste.”
“It’s not just what the consequences will be for the islanders,” said a grim-faced Rintala.
The other two looked questioningly at their mission commander.
“We’ve seen the innovations here, largely due to Yozef Kolsko. These Caedelli have taken many of Kolsko’s basic ideas and improved on them, and Kolsko’s ideas, when combined with Caedelli ingenuity and energy, have produced nothing short of a revolution. We’ll take some of this back with us to Fuomon; however, think for a moment of the consequences if the Narthani appropriate all this to their own ends. Consider if Kolsko ends up working for Narthon—which could happen, if he’s captured. Whether he wanted to or not, the Narthani might compel him by threatening his family and other Caedelli.”
“And I felt depressed about the situation here before, Jaako,” snarled Kivalian.
“Jaako is right, Reimo,” remonstrated Saisannin. “It comes back to what could we do about it? Even if Fuomon decided to contest Caedellium with Narthon, by the time our full reports get home, a decision to intervene is made, and a force arrives here, whatever is going to happen will already be well in the past. Once the Narthani are entrenched here, an effort to dislodge them will be out of the question.”
Rintala took on a thoughtful expression. “Let’s not wallow in worst-case scenarios just yet. Let’s see what this conclave concludes.”
Orosz City
The Keelan party left Caernford and rode in several carriages, accompanied by five hundred dragoons, five 6-pounder and five 12-pounder cannon, three of the new 25-pounder carronades, examples of mines, napalm, a sniper rifle, and a 10-inch short-barreled mortar that Yozef hoped wouldn’t explode when they demonstrated it with a single firing. They wouldn’t do more, because Yozef thought the design still far from deployment. Besides the formal clan meetings, Culi
ch planned on giving separate reports to individual hetmen on how his clan intended to prepare for the coming Narthani army.
Other clan members included in the Keelan party but not formally attending the conclave were Yozef and Maera’s four main guards: Carnigan, Balwis, Wyfor Kales, and Gowlin Reese. St. Tomo Abbey’s Abbot Walkot came as a representative of Keelan’s theophists—Abbot Beynom being listed as a clan adviser, instead of his role as St. Sidyrn’s abbot. Medicants from most clans were coming to Orosz City to consult with one another on medical issues when tens of thousands of Caedelli moved to redoubts and when fighting resulted in mass casualties. Diera Beynom would lead the planning to increase and coordinate Yozef’s MASH units, which had already proved their utility at the Battle of Moreland City. Diera and Walkot would be meeting with colleagues separately from the conclave meeting.
After three days of travel over a route Yozef knew too well, the Keelan party to the All-Clan Conclave arrived at noon. The small building Yozef expected from the previous conclave he’d attended had been replaced with a larger building, in addition to a cluster of smaller buildings for any separate meetings hetmen wanted to have. The new structures lay just inside the main Orosz City walls. Quarters within the city were assigned to the clans’ main representatives and escorts, while the five hundred dragoons and cannon in the Keelan party were bivouacked outside the walls. An Oroszian directed the Keelander leaders to city quarters and the escorts to a reserved encampment area outside the walls. Culich told the man that all Keelanders would stay together in the bivouac area. Culich didn’t think the dragoons should see better accommodations for leaders than for the men. Yozef concurred.
The rest of the day was relatively free while they waited for all of the clans’ delegations to arrive. The next day would consist of informal meetings with various delegations—the usual human politicking to gauge views, to garner support for positions, and to form ad hoc alliances. Yozef planned to walk around with Maera after mid-day meal—because it might be his only chance to see the city. Sistian interfered with that plan by stopping him after morning meal.
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