Yozef had crafted this speech as well as he could, and Maera had worked on it as hard as he had. It would be short. Yozef had shamelessly purloined most of the words from Winston Churchill, Dwight Eisenhower, Abraham Lincoln, and William Shakespeare.
No different than giving a talk at a scientific meeting, Yozef told himself, unconvinced. This is about the number I expected in my audience at the meeting I was flying to before the universe turned upside-down. Right—tell yourself that. Those would have been mainly students with a scattering of scientists. Not leaders of hundreds of thousands of people about to embark on a literal fight to the death.
He took several deep, slow breaths.
“At this conclave, you have wisely chosen to unite yourselves to resist the Narthani’s attempt to conquer Caedellium and force it into the Narthon Empire. I am not originally from Caedellium. Although I am bound to you and your struggle, I recognize the changes that are being forced on the clans. This threat you face is what my original people would call an ‘existential threat’—a danger that threatens your very existence. You’ve all heard or read reports of the Narthani, where they come from, who they are, what they have done to Preddi.
“Over four hundred years ago, your ancestors first came to the unspoiled island of Caedellium. In those centuries, the island has remained free of the conflicts endemic to the rest of Anyar. The clans were established, an era of conflicts subsided with the Conclave of Nordwyn, and the peoples of this beautiful island have prospered.
“Now, a dark cloud threatens this island. An evil force gathers itself to destroy all that you cherish—your freedom, your lives, and your history. A great war has come to Caedellium to test whether the people can survive.
“The world has known little of events here on Caedellium, and what we say here today will not long be remembered. But what we might accomplish in turning back this evil could be remembered forever throughout Anyar, where other people fear and resist being consumed and forgotten.
“Before us lies a great task, one that will require the full measure of devotion from every person. It will involve the greatest battles ever seen on Caedellium, battles to dwarf even the one at Moreland City. What can each of you offer, what can I offer, what can any man and woman of Caedellium offer to this struggle? I tell you simply, it is to offer every measure of blood, sweat, toil, and tears. Let there be no pretending the way forward isn’t hard. There will be no victory without cost. There may be times when we will fight when there seems no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than live as slaves. There will be hard times ahead, many months of terrible ordeals, and many will die. Too many. But if we are successful, they will not have died in vain, and they will live forever in the existence of a free people, under God’s grace, who would not let themselves perish from Anyar, no matter the cost.
“What is our purpose? I say to you it is to wage war. War against a monstrous evil. What is our goal? Victory. Victory at all cost, victory despite all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be, for without victory there is no survival. And how shall we obtain this victory? It is simple. If necessary, we shall fight them on the plains of Moreland and Orosz, in the mountains of Bultecki and Vandinke, along the shores of Swavebroke and Bevans, in the forests of Gwillamer and Farkesh. We shall never surrender.
“Today, on the second day, third sixday, month of Keforon, in the four hundred and fifteenth year of the settlement of Caedellium, a day that will live in fame, the free clans of Caedellium have committed to a great crusade. When we are victorious, and it comes to me that victory is within our grasp if we are steadfast, then this day will be remembered each year as Freedom Day. Anyone who lives to old age will remember this day and each year will show his scars and share the tales of what followed. Parents will tell their children and grandchildren of the first Freedom Day, when the clans came together as brothers and sisters. For everyone who fights will be my brother or sister, no matter how vile they may be. And people everywhere on Anyar will hear the tales of how a small island beat back a great empire and will in their hearts wish that they could have been here. They will wonder if they could have measured up to the men and women of Caedellium, and your courage will give heart to those still resisting this evil.”
He surveyed the room, taking time to look each clan leader in the eye. He hoped it came off as an effective dramatic gesture. Then he finally concluded.
“Therefore, let us brace ourselves for the great task ahead, knowing that for a thousand years, throughout Anyar, people will say of Caedellium, ‘This was their finest hour.’”
He walked to his seat and sat amid the silence. Oh, shit. Did I sound like a pretentious phony? Did I undo all the good the conclave accomplished? He snuck a peak at Maera, sitting with the Fuomi, separated from the Keelan delegation by the Oroszians. Her expression revealed no opinion, but he thought he detected an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders.
It started with a single foot stamping on the plank flooring. Yozef couldn’t tell whose foot, but he thought it came from the direction of the Farkesh delegation. Within seconds, the in-sync thunder shook the walls as hundreds of feet, then hands, then voices threatened to crumble the entire structure.
CHAPTER 14: SELFCELL
It took another hour for Yozef to untangle himself from the energized, determined Caedelli men. Hetmen, advisers, and men he didn’t recognize seemed obligated to shake his hand, clasp forearms, and slap him on the back or the shoulders. By the time they were finished, his hand was weak, and he suspected he had bruises from shoulder to shoulder. The last ten minutes, Maera had hovered behind him to deter the most enthusiastic gestures of approval.
His ultimate savior was Welman Stent.
“Yozef,” said Stent into his ear, “we need to talk about something that has come up in the last two days. Let’s go into the side room.”
Stent held Yozef by the elbow, and Carnigan suddenly appeared and acted as a plow, pushing aside men, as the four made their way to a door at the side of the meeting room.
Maera answered his curiosity by pulling Yozef’s head down so she could talk into his ear—whispering was still impossible with the din in the meeting room. “Hetman Stent alerted Father, and he passed it on to me. It’s something about Selfcell.”
“Self—” Yozef started to say, before Carnigan opened the door and their group pushed through. Yozef had no idea where Carnigan had come from, because he hadn’t attended conclave meetings.
Already in the room was Owill Brell, the Keelan MIU leader. Culich and Hetman Orosz followed.
Yozef heard Maera speak to Carnigan. “Please stand outside and let no one come in, Carnigan. No one.”
The big man grunted and closed the door.
A confused Yozef sat at one of the chairs around a rectangular table, followed by the other five also seating themselves.
“Yozef,” said Culich, “Welman has had an interesting contact with Selfcell.”
“Selfcell? What kind of contact?” Yozef asked, turning to Stent.
“One of our patrols at the Selfcell border came upon a man sitting on a rock and evidently waiting for us to find him. He said his name was Karvan Sewell, and he had a message for me from Roblyn Langor, the Selfcell hetman. My men brought him to the patrol encampment, and from there he was sent on to Clitwyth, our capital.”
Stent paused and managed to look annoyed and amused at the same time. “It turns out that your MIU leader, Brell here, had been in contact with Sewell, unbeknownst to me or any of my people.”
Yozef turned to Brell. “Owill, I thought we’d agreed not to send any spies into Narthani-controlled territory?”
“Of course, and I didn’t. However, we didn’t decide to have no contact. I’ve had a few people meeting individual Selfcellese and Eywellese at the borders, for them to pass on observations about what’s happening inside their clans. My people don’t cross the borders themselves; they only relay information and don’t know anything of our plans.”
For the first time, Brell appeared almost embarrassed. “The MIU has not only been preparing information about those two provinces but also been making profiles of the leadership and projections of responses to future events. Maera has been developing these profiles.”
Startled, Yozef glanced at his wife, who looked flustered, then her mouth set firm.
“It was a need-to-know thing, Yozef. Up until now, we had no information that was complete enough to be useful to you. You’ve nagged us about secrecy and the need-to-know, and you didn’t have it, yet.”
Well, shit, thought Yozef. Maybe I stressed secrecy a little too much. I think I should have known what Brell and Maera were up to. On the other hand, I’ve wanted all of them to take more initiative, so maybe I can’t have it both ways.
Brell continued speaking before Yozef could express any opinion about being kept out of the loop. “We had reports from escapees and a few Selfcellese that the average clansperson was largely unenthusiastic about their supposed alliance with the Narthani. It was no secret that they were more subject to, rather than allied with, the foreigners. The more rational ones were aware of their predicament and fully cognizant of what had happened when the Preddi resisted. Yet they were obliged to support the Narthani. The conflict between doing what was necessary for the clan to survive and turning against the other clans twisted a dagger in the body of their people.
“There had been cautious hints from unnamed and unidentifiable contacts that the leadership of Selfcell, including the hetman, might be willing to turn on the Narthani, if they thought there was any chance of success. These contacts became more persuasive after the Battle of Moreland City and the Narthani withdrawal. When we got word of a larger Narthani force on the way to Caedellium, I thought that any chance of turning Selfcell likely had vanished. To my surprise, I learned that no less than the youngest brother of the hetman was directing one of the Selfcellese contacts giving us information. The Selfcell leadership knew of the contact, who had been assigned by the hetman. And the hetman wants to meet with someone in high authority to discuss matters unspecified. Before we continue, I think it’ll be useful if Maera gives us a report on the main Selfcellese involved in this.”
Maera sat directly opposite Culich at the rectangular table. She had several folders and pieces of paper with notes spread before her. She wore her usual work attire: a full-length dark-colored dress with long sleeves, a high collar, and her hair tied up. She appeared every inch the efficient, hardworking Caedellium woman. The only discrepancy was the brightly colored scarf tied around her neck, with one end hanging down her front and another, the back. One of Yozef’s gifts to her had been a set of scarves. She always wore one—unless the weather or the occasion dictated otherwise. Today’s choice was a brilliant orange, red, and yellow swirl that somehow made even the plain brown dress seem fashionable. Breda had once asked her daughter why she’d started wearing such scarves. Maera simply answered tersely that Yozef liked them. Given Maera’s history, her mother did not believe for an instant that she wore them for any other reason than to declare her bond with Yozef.
Maera finished adjusting her papers, one hand playing with the end of the scarf that hung in front. “Roblyn Langor is forty years old. He became hetman at thirty-three after his father, Norwell Langor, died.” She continued with known events in his tenure as hetman, statements he had made at conclaves and other meetings, public and private, his family status, his stature among his clansmen—on and on for ten minutes. Considering the amount of detail she recited, Yozef wondered whether she knew how many times a week Selfcell and his wife had sex. She probably did, he decided.
Finally, she finished the preliminary background.
“Then the question comes, ‘Who exactly is Langor?’ Is he a genuine supporter of the Narthani, doing it against his wishes, or something in between? Everything we see supports the second option—he is doing what he can to protect his people from destruction, as happened to the Preddi. Our analysis believes he hates what he’s being forced to do with every fiber of his being, but we should never doubt that he’ll do what is necessary to ensure his people’s survival, which includes being subservient to the Narthani.”
“Then what of this supposed message from him to meet with someone in authority from Free Caedellium?” asked Yozef.
“There are several possibilities,” said Maera. “It could be Langor is genuinely reaching out for any possibility of resisting the Narthani, consistent with ensuring his clan’s survival, or he could be positioning himself in case the Narthani lose and he needs to attempt a reconciliation with the other clans.” Maera looked Yozef in the eye and emphasized her next words. “A third possibility is that it’s a Narthani trap, hoping to ensnare some of the top clan leadership.”
Bakalacs nodded. “The second possibility would be a smart thing to do. If the Narthani lose, he can claim he was trying to turn on them at the first chance—which coincidentally never happened. So what’s your people’s best guess, Maera?”
She looked up from her papers. “We have information from numerous people who have had extensive interactions with Hetman Selfcell, including previous servants and several cousins from Stent and Moreland. Moreover, as you know, several thousand Selfcellese fled their province when the Narthani took over. Some because they feared they and their families would be targeted as potential troublemakers, and others because they would not live under the Narthani and saw a chance to flee. A few of these also had personal contact with Roblyn Langor. Of course, one of those is Karvan Sewell. We have confirmation of his identity and that he was Langor’s tutor and is considered a close adviser. He’s told us that he came to us under the instructions of Hetman Langor and had been directed to wait until he received a signal to tell us what his hetman had told him.”
“And that was . . . ?” prompted Yozef.
“That Langor had to cooperate with the Narthani to save his clan but prayed to God that the rest of Caedellium could resist them.”
“That’s it?” blurted Orosz.
“It is consistent with what he could do,” said Culich. “If by some chance the tutor was captured and forced to tell what he knew, the message could be explained to the Narthani as a simple statement of fact. At the same time, it could be interpreted by us to say he might sympathize and be willing to turn—a very nice covering of the possibilities.”
“This leads us back to the fundamental question,” said Brill. “Is this a genuine reaching out by Selfcell or a trick?”
“I think we have no choice but to pursue this as if it is a real opportunity to turn Selfcell actively against the Narthani,” said Maera in a tight voice that alerted Culich.
“The problem is, he insists on meeting with Rhaedri Brison to ensure his safety,” said Brell.
“And that is a major problem,” agreed Culich.
“Did he specifically mention Brison by name?” asked Yozef.
“The message insists on a meeting with the Septarsh. His reputation is, of course, known to the Caedelli within Narthani territory,” added Brell.
“It’s an opportunity that we can’t afford not to explore further. The obvious question is whether it’s real or a trick or trap of some kind,” said Stent. “I suggest we make it a test for him and make that explicit. Sewell says Langor wants to meet at the border with five guards on each side. We can tell him that since he is the one initiating this meeting, and given the history of Selfcell supporting the Narthani, it is up to him to prove his sincerity. We will insist the meeting take place well within Stent territory and that there be three people in each delegation. It’s out of the question for Brison to be there, but then who?”
Yozef looked at Stent. “Welman, do you personally know Roblyn Langor, and would you recognize him?”
Stent nodded grimly. “I have known him for most of my life. I would have counted him as a friend at one point. Not now, of course.”
“If turning Selfcell against the Narthani were possible, could you set aside what has happene
d?”
Stent’s face showed a series of emotions—anger, regret, sadness, suspicion. The kaleidoscope of human expressions finally settled on uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “So much has happened.”
“We all appreciate your honesty, Hetman Stent,” said Yozef. “However, I think it probably necessary that you be there for the meeting. You are someone he knows. If he really is sincere, then having you there may help. Since you acknowledge that you might not be completely impartial, I wonder if that will be a problem for any Caedelli. I think I should be at the meeting, too—as someone with less history with Selfcell and to let me assess him personally.”
“No way!” blurted Maera. “There is too much danger, if this is a trick!”
Stent smiled. “Whereas I’m more expendable?”
Maera looked at him blankly for a moment without speaking, then started to say something before her father interrupted.
“I think Maera has several reasons for her outburst—one of which is naturally her concern for Yozef. However, and I say this with respect for you, Welman, Yozef is more important to our cause than you or me or both of us, for that matter.”
Stent laughed. “As it happens, I agree with you, Culich. But I think I may also agree with Yozef. My knowledge of Roblyn Langor and Yozef’s different perspective might be our best option for gauging the man’s sincerity and the opportunities this presents.”
Maera glared at all of them—especially Yozef. He glanced back at her serenely, knowing he would hear more about this later. She figuratively shook herself, then forced her thinking, for the moment, back to the problem at hand.
“If Yozef goes, then we need to take extra precautions. For the same reason as insisting that the meeting occur well into Stent territory, our delegation needs to be larger. They are the supplicants here and need to understand this. If Langor hopes the Narthani are defeated and the Selfcell can be accepted back by the other clans, it needs to be made clear that they will have to earn this privilege and that it will not be cheap, considering what has gone before.”
Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4) Page 21