Everyone agreed, and Sewell carried the response back to Selfcell. They arranged the meeting for seven days later. Maera lobbied unsuccessfully to accompany Yozef and groused that her time was being wasted. She would neither be helping Yozef with Langor nor be able to get home to Aeneas until Yozef returned.
“You know why, Maera,” Yozef chided. “We shouldn’t encounter serious danger, but we never know these days. There’s not enough justification for you to take even a small risk of Aeneas losing both parents.”
Yozef pointed out that St. Wyan’s Abbey’s library might have writings related to Selfcell that she had not read before. She could spend most of the time while he was gone refining her briefs on Langor and Selfcell.
They left at mid-day for the spot where the Stent, Moreland, and Selfcell provinces met. Maera sent Yozef off with a begrudging speech to be careful, accompanied by a clasp and a kiss that were more demonstrative of her concern. Her usual “come back with him or don’t come back at all” talk to Carnigan, Kales, and Gowlin Reese had by now been reduced to a glare. They knew her message.
“Does she really mean that?” Reese asked Kales the first time he got the warning.
“Let’s just say it’s best to assume so,” answered the wiry man. He saddled up, still favoring his left hand after the loss of two fingers in the attack at the Kolsko Caernford house.
Stent forces had secured a small village inside Stent for several miles in all directions. A single man would meet the Selfcell delegation at the border and lead them to the meeting site. They would be in sight of other Stent horsemen the entire way—who would keep their distance. The cleared village would have only the clans’ delegation: Welman Stent, five of his guards, Yozef, and five men chosen by Culich. One of the latter was Carnigan, who, along with Yozef and Hetman Stent, would be the three to meet with the Selfcellese leader.
The meeting happened as a weather system moved over the western part of Caedellium. Winds were high, and the rain, while only moderate, pelted horizontal to the ground, driven by the gusts. Yozef, Stent, and Carnigan waited under a tent roof with the sides facing the rain rolled down. An hour past midnight, four riders trotted up the village road. The meeting needed to be short. Before sunup, Langor had to ride hard back to a Selfcell town forty miles away to prevent his absence from arousing suspicion. The Stentese guide said something unintelligible under the wind, and the four dismounted. Two Stent men came forward, took the horse bridles, and led the mounts to a watering trough, while the three Selfcellese walked to the tent with the table, six chairs, lanterns placed at the four corners, and the three waiting men.
No one gave a formal greeting. There was no pretense of civility. Stent’s hostility was palpable, despite his efforts to suppress it. The Selfcellese were also cautious, but Yozef thought he detected a regretful aura to their reserve.
The three men stood by the table, all six silent for several moments before Yozef said, “Please sit, Hetman Selfcell.”
Langor had never wavered from looking at Stent until he heard Yozef’s words. Then, for the first time, he took in the other two men who seated themselves along with Stent. One was enormous, his mass almost twice that of an average man. His emotionless eyes did not blink but simply stared at the three standing men. This one was not a negotiator but a force of nature in the event of a Selfcell trick. The hetman knew instantly that this one could break all three of them barehanded, if anything untoward occurred.
The third man was . . . Langor didn’t know what he was. An ordinary-looking youngish man of average size and physique. Langor had the oddest feeling he was being weighed. The young man looked at him somehow differently than did the other men.
There were no introductions. At Yozef’s words, Stent waved his hands brusquely at the three chairs on the opposite side of the table. Langor’s two companions were his bodyguard and one of his most trusted military advisers. The former was an otherwise impressively sized and manner of man, if it had not been for the creature facing them. The two bodyguards looked at each other with hands in plain sight and with no facial expressions.
Stent finally spoke. “You asked for this meeting. So here we are. What is it you have to say?”
Langor reddened at the tone but controlled his temper with some effort. He forced himself to take a deep breath and remember his mission.
“There is no pretending, other than to recognize that much blood has spilled between us these last few years. I only ask that you consider our predicament: Selfcell was faced with the choice of surrendering to the Narthani or being destroyed, as were the Preddi.”
“Yet it was your choice to surrender and become dogs of the Narthani!” grated Stent.
“Only after we appealed to the conclave for help and were refused. What choice do you think we had?”
“You could have resisted anyway and at least died honorably!”
“Brave words from someone sitting safely in his own province with no Narthani army occupying his land. In the same situation, what would you have really done, Stent? If you were faced not just with your own death, but with the death and enslavement of every man, woman, and child in Stent, what would you really have done?”
Stent was silent. As angry as he felt at Selfcell, he was also rational and honest. He stared at Selfcell for a full minute, all six men silent. Finally, he said, “I don’t know what I would have done. But that doesn’t change what you did.”
Yozef thought they had gotten the worst of their feelings out in the open. “Hetman Selfcell, can you simply tell us why you wanted this meeting?”
“My responsibility is to my people. I surrendered to the Narthani because there was no option at the time. They had overwhelming military force, and no other clans were willing to commit to come to our aide. I had to obey the Narthani leaders and at least make them satisfied with Selfcell’s commitment to them. They didn’t expect our cooperation to be enthusiastic, but they expected obedience. You may believe whatever you like, but I have done what little I could to meet their minimum expectations.”
“Besides the raids into Stent, that obedience included Selfcell horsemen supporting the Narthani invasion of Moreland,” accused Stent.
“Yes. That was required of us. I would point out, however, that our men deployed on their left accompanied by the Narthani cavalry, while the Eywellese were trusted alone to protect the right of their infantry.”
“You’re saying that this deployment organization occurred because the Narthani didn’t fully trust your commitment?” asked Yozef.
“I am.”
Neither Yozef nor Stent replied.
“Until that battle, I didn’t think we had any chance to resist the Narthani,” said Langor. “Selfcell was thus forced to make the best deal with them that it could, in order to survive.”
“And things are different now?” Yozef asked softly.
“Things may be different now,” affirmed Selfcell.
Stent leaned forward. “Are you hinting that Selfcell might now be willing to fight the Narthani, where you were not before?”
“If we have the right assurances and if we could believe we have a reasonable chance to succeed, yes.”
“Then I do not see a purpose to this meeting,” said Stent. “For one thing, how could we convince you that we will win? And even if we could, and wanted to, why would we ever trust you?”
Langor flushed. “I’ve risked my life and more in coming here! That should be proof enough.”
“It proves nothing,” Stent fired back.
Selfcell jumped to his feet. “Then you are right. There is no further purpose to this meeting.”
Yozef raised a placating hand. “Yet you are here, Hetman. Please sit back down. Perhaps there are still things that can be discussed.”
Stent grunted but said nothing further. Selfcell glared at Stent, then his eyes went to Yozef on Stent’s right. Whoever this was, the Stent hetman seemed to defer to him—at least, in the request for him to stay. He stared for another few momen
ts, then sat again.
“You see the problem, Hetman,” stated Yozef. “There is no way the clans can trust you at this point. The real question is whether this could change in the future. Please understand that while you have done great harm, we acknowledge the difficult position you were in. And let us be honest . . . it will be up to you to show your change of heart to the clans, not their responsibility to trust you without such proof.”
The creases on Langor’s face deepened. “Then what am I to do?” he said, his voice hinting at desperation.
“While any forgiveness from the clans will have to be earned, there are three things you can do to help your cause. We know you are compelled to obey the Narthani, because they effectively hold all your people as hostages, but in future actions you can do what you can to minimize harm to the clans, short of outright defiance of the Narthani. Second is that you can provide us with information on Narthani intents, forces, and deployments.”
“Both of those involve risking our position with the Narthani and likely causing harm to my people,” protested Langor. “Information about my own men could lead to their deaths.”
“That risk is part of the price you will have to pay. I can only say that if you give us information on their troop movements and plans, we will try to take this into consideration during the fighting. The alternative is that your people will be lumped with the Narthani when there are opportunities to not show mercy. You should also know that the conclave has outcast the Eywellese for their actions but not yet Selfcell. Feelings among the clans are strong, and while some clans wanted Selfcell outcast as well, there is still hope Selfcell can somehow redeem itself.”
Stent started slightly and glanced briefly to his right at Yozef but remained silent. Carnigan simply grunted. Langor took on a thoughtful look.
“Eywell has been cast out formally?”
“Yes.”
Langor considered the news. No clan had been cast out since shortly after the Treaty of Nordwyn a hundred years ago. At that time, there had been twenty-two clans. One clan, Raslyn, refused to sign the treaty and agree to the conditions aimed at reducing interclan fighting. The other twenty-one clans signed the treaty and then proceeded to band together and occupy the dissenting clan. Fighting had been brief. The Raslyn leadership was banished from Caedellium and the lands and the people absorbed into other clans.
“There is still the question of whether such a move can be enforced,” Langor said.
Yozef nodded. “There is still that, but if the Narthani prevail, then casting out is moot.”
“You mentioned a third condition.”
“Since the clans have no reason to fully trust you at this point, there is no information on clan intentions that can be shared with you. However . . . ” Yozef paused to give his words more meaning. “There will come a time—maybe a moment—when your turning on the Narthani can be decisive for you. It might not be so decisive for the clans, but it will be a moment when your actions can commit you to the clans. It might come at great risk and sacrifice, but it’s the third part of the price you will have to pay. We might be able to communicate with you, if we believe the moment has arrived. If not, we might be able to arrange a situation where you will see our intention without receiving actual communication from us. It might even be completely without clear indication from us, and you will have to make the decision on your own. We understand the difficult position this places you in, but this is the way it must be.”
Langor looked hard at Stent, who yielded no sign of agreement or not with Yozef’s words. He glanced back to Yozef. Here is the authority at the meeting, Langor thought. Whoever this individual is, Stent is here because I know him and we once were friends. But it’s this person who truly represents the conclave. Who is he?
“I can promise nothing,” Langor said. “The survival of my people is still my primary responsibility. But I will keep your words in mind.”
With that, he rose, along with the two other Selfcellese, and walked back to their horses being held just out of earshot. The three men mounted and rode off into the night.
After the Stent party disappeared, Stent said in a normal conversational voice, “Somehow I fail to remember that the conclave voted on outcasting either the Selfcell or the Eywell clan. Was I asleep during that vote?”
“You know there was no such vote. I know there was no such vote. Even our large friend here might know there was no such vote.”
“But Selfcell doesn’t know there wasn’t any such vote,” Stent completed. “Do you think this meeting did any good? I have doubts Langor will risk the wrath of the Narthani or, even if he does, whether it will do us any good.”
“I may have the same doubts, but logic says to try enough of such unlikely possibilities. Some will work out. We need to try everything we can. If this one fails, all we’ve lost is a trip and a meeting.”
CHAPTER 15: FIRST SITE
Southern Stent Province
Welman Stent wasn’t satisfied with allowing their party to sleep overnight in the cleared village. “Too close to the Selfcell border,” he said. “There’s no reason to take any chances that this might have been a trap and a large Narthani or Selfcell force comes after us. We can’t ride all night, but we’ll move another ten miles back from the border and dry camp. After we get some sleep, we’ll head toward your potential battle site, Yozef.”
The MIU had worked a month on identifying potential battlefield sites where the clans might have a tactical advantage over a Narthani army, obliging it to assault strong clan positions. The survey was still in its early stages, but Gartherid Kennrick had visited a site in Stent near the Vandinke border, and Pedr’s son believed it the most promising of the ten sites he had inspected.
They got to sleep with only four hours of darkness left and slept until the sun was halfway to mid-day. Stent, Brell, and Yozef leaned over a map spread on a tree trunk left over from logging the area decades earlier.
Brell pointed out their destination. “We won’t make it there today unless we push the horses, so I suggest we detour slightly and reach Clitwyth tonight. We’ll have a proper place to sleep, hot food, and baths, then set out early the next day. That would put us at the location before mid-day and give us the rest of the day to inspect the area and see if Gartherid’s enthusiasm is justified.”
“I agree,” said Stent. “We’ll be fresher when we get to . . . Site 1, as MIU calls it. As it happens, I know the valley, and Kennrick may be right in his assessment, although I wouldn’t have thought of it without Yozef’s example. It’s also got the advantage of being only a few miles from where my clan is preparing a redoubt for our people, if the Narthani invade.”
“When they invade,” Yozef corrected.
“You’re right. When they invade. It’ll certainly be more efficient to incorporate redoubt and fortification planning, and we’d have thousands of potential laborers nearby,” said Stent.
Brell grunted. “If it looks like a potential battlefield, meaning if we think we could lure the Narthani where they are cut off and forced to attack where we want them to.”
“Don’t mind Owill, Welman,” said Yozef, smiling. “It’s his job and nature to be cautious. When we get there, we shall see what we shall see.”
Northern Stent Province
Two days later, they sat on their horses and gazed from a hill at what first appeared to be a lake covering a valley several miles wide. Beyond the lake, perhaps a mile farther, grassland continued four or five miles until the valley narrowed. On the valley’s right, steep slopes rose sharply, sheer much of their length. The left side of the valley seemed similar, though the tops of the hills were not as high, and about halfway up the valley the left side appeared not as steep, with lower hills.
On second look, clumps of vegetation dotted what Yozef originally thought to be a lake. When they got closer, he realized the lake was actually a wetland. They followed a dirt tract only marginally qualifying as a road, more like an elevated stretch of land that cut
straight through the center of the valley.
“How deep is the water?” asked Yozef when they were halfway across.
“I doubt more than two or three feet in the deepest places,” answered Stent. “Two good-sized streams feed into this flat area of the valley. One stream comes down the length from the other end, while the second stream comes through a gorge halfway up the valley. I didn’t point it out, but below the wetland is an outlet that drains south and meets the Orgun River. There’s also a number of springs and a few rivulets, but the larger of the two streams accounts for most of the water.”
“Is the water level consistent, or does it vary with the season?” asked Yozef.
“It varies some, but I’ve never heard of it being dry. If a big storm comes, the level might go up a foot but then back down as it drains.”
When they reached the other end of the wetland, the raised tract continued higher than the surroundings. A half-mile farther and the berm-like structure split, with one fork continuing up the valley and the other branching toward the gorge with one of the streams feeding the wetland.
Damn, thought Yozef. I bet this is a medial moraine. The whole region must have been glaciated at one time—thousands, millions of years ago. He remembered from a high school general science course that when two glaciers met, debris from the sides of both glaciers joined and was carried on top of the ice. When the glaciers retreated, the debris was left as a ridge in the center of the valley.
He looked around. Yes, here’s where a glacier coming down the main length of the valley probably met a smaller glacier that formed the gorge cutting through the hills on the left. I wonder how long ago this happened? The maps I’ve seen show permanent icecaps on both of Anyar’s poles, and the planet’s climate is definitely cooler than Earth’s. We’re not that far from the equator, and Caedellium’s weather is more like central California than the tropics. Wow, most of the whole planet must have been covered in ice and snow at times in the past.
Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4) Page 22