Reactions to his comments rippled through the men at the table. Tallun was making no secret of his scorn for the Engineer. To his surprise, Kal thought he could see several among the gathered captains who appeared sympathetic.
“Lampte pounded on the table with a silver mug until the noise abated. He then signaled for one of the men who was standing against the side wall of the chamber and indicated his empty mug. The man ran to fill it from a pewter pitcher. Lampte took a sip, then regarded Kal again.
“Royal, you say? How large is your kingdom, and where is it?”
Kal answered. “Please afford me the courtesy of understanding my situation. We were sent here by my king on a mission to locate and establish trade and a relationship with previously unknown civilizations. Our land has been devastated by wars against savage grey man-beasts over the years. All of our resources have gone to fighting those wars. They now appear to have been won. This is the first time in our recorded history that we have crossed the sea in search of others. Frankly there was not much faith in our being successful. My king now desires peaceful exploration with possible mutual benefit to all concerned. The treatment to which we are being subjected is unnecessary. We are here as representatives of our king and kingdom. We are empowered to negotiate treaties between our peoples. Unless and until you give your word that no harm is intended to my kingdom, I am unable to provide you with the answers you seek. We ask only that you realize the obvious benefits that would materialize if our relationship to one another is based in trust and honor.”
The mood of the table took a noticeable turn against him then. A full two thirds of the council was frowning and the sounds coming from them were less than friendly. Gann edged closer to him, ready to protect his friend should it be necessary.
Lampte looked at him from beneath lowered brows. “This council entreats with no person and no government.” A few at the table shouted agreement to his words. “We are the people of Kylee, and we live under her all-seeing eye. We take what we need or want. It is up to the council to decide the outcome. We already have the location of your kingdom. If Kylee wishes it to be plundered that is what will happen. You are before us for one reason only; to allow us to judge your temperament and courage or lack of same. As part of the nobility you should be representative of the mindset of your people. We seek no trade agreement or to establish diplomacy with your king.”
A chorus of agreement rumbled through the hall from the members of the council. Then, unexpectedly the man known as Captain Fauwler stood again. “I rise to make a motion,” he intoned.
The hall grew quiet.
Fauwler smiled. Kal took a more intense interest in the man simply because he seemed to be at odds with the more violence-inclined members of the council. He saw that he was approximately thirty summers in age and was handsome in a rough manner. His hair was worn long and gathered at the back with a simple string. His clothes were simple, but clean. In his eyes, Kal read…something. There was definite intelligence there, but he also projected a strong air of confidence and…danger. Yes, that was it. This was not a man to be trifled with.
Lampte took a deep breath, then let it out slowly and loudly enough to signal his displeasure. “Another motion Captain Fauwler?”
“I beg your tolerance,” Fauwler said. He turned to Kal and actually bowed. “In keeping with established courtesies, I bid you welcome. I am Captain Fauwler of the twenty ships in the fleet that bears my name. I admit I already know your name because Captain Tallun briefed this body before you were brought in. I apologize for the bindings and the lack of any kindnesses that would have allowed you the time to make yourselves more presentable.” He shifted his gaze to Gann. “As to you, Captain Gann, I also apologize that this council has not seen fit to offer you the respect that is normally afforded any ship’s captain. I assure you this is an affront in which most of the assembled captains would not have engaged.” Tallun, sitting several seats to his right, rose and put a hand on his knife. His forehead was a bright red with anger.
Lampte slapped the table. “Captain Tallun. You will conduct yourself with the dignity that this table requires. Captain Fauwler, you will refrain from making disparaging remarks aimed at any member of this assembled body.”
Tallun sat, still glaring at Fauwler who did not seem bothered by it in the least. Kal deduced from their actions two things: First, Fauwler and Tallun did not like each other. Kal would file that fact away for possible future exploitation. Secondly, Tallun’s manner of treating captives was not universally observed here. Indeed, there appeared to be an odd concept of justice observed among some. Fauwler was obviously among the latter group.
“Again, I apologize to the council,” Fauwler said with an expression which conveyed absolutely no contrition. He turned to look at the men gathered on both sides of the table. “My fellow Captains, I rise to offer a novel concept. All of us here have faced a dwindling flow of assets, especially in the most recent summers. Our way of life has offered us a freedom that few men will ever know.” He turned and walked around the table until he was facing the seated council captains before he resumed. “None of us would trade the past years for any other way of life. We bow to no king and pay tribute to no one. Still, one wonders if this way of life is meant to go on to last forever.” There was a stirring of mumbles. “Everyone here had their own reasons for choosing this life. For me it was because the privileged noble classes in the different kingdoms of our land were becoming much too powerful. I have seen a man’s back flayed because he forgot to bow to a spoiled little snot of a brat who was passing by. We’ve all seen worse.
“I can’t ignore the thought that we have here the makings of a better society. We govern ourselves, and no one goes wanting for food or shelter. Indeed our little city now has more people than many of those same kingdoms from which we fled. Is it outrageous to think that we may someday become something more than a den of outlaws?
“Take, for instance, the proposal of this man and his kingdom. He is from a new land, heretofore unknown to us. Are we correct in reacting to it in the same way as we have here? Do we know what advantages an open trade policy with a new world may bring? The two overriding issues to our way of life here have always been freedom and profit. Must profit always be the result of thievery? Every year we discard tons of fruit, vegetables and fibrous plants because we are a closed society that produces more than we use. Our foundries lie cold because we have already forged so much excellent steel that more cannot be used. Where would be the harm in trading those over-produced items to these new people? I see only profit.”
There was much discussion back and forth between the council members until Lampte raised his voice. “Are you forgetting the other half of our concerns? The freedom? We all know that trading with the privileged classes results in inferior prices and terms to the point where it ceases to be worth the efforts?”
Kal took advantage of the brief pause after the comment to press his case. “Noble Captains, I know nothing of the governments that rule this new land. I hear several familiar words such as noblemen and king, but your comments make it clear to me that there are major differences between our understandings of them.” He took a quick glance around the table to see that his words were being met with interest from most.
“In my kingdom, as in every other kingdom of our land, a king is an elected head of government. He is not born into the position, he is usually a military man or academician that has proven himself, or herself, to be a wise and honest person. A person elected to that office holds it for ten summers but can be removed at any time for misbehavior or simply for proving themselves not equal to the task.
“There are none of these noblemen that you seem to hold in such low regard. Instead we have representatives of different sections of our populations whom we refer to as Members of Parliament. These people also can be removed by the very same people who put them in those positions. No person can be whipped or beaten for any cause under our system. Anyone accused of a crime
, and that includes Members of Parliament and even kings, have the right to have their cases heard by seven people drawn from the community. The results of those hearings are rendered by those seven people, with no interference or influence from any other body. If the accused is convicted he is confined to jail.”
Kal moved a little closer to the table and looked at each of the gathered faces, friendly or otherwise. “You say you value freedom. Good Captains, I am a product of freedom. My mother wove blankets, and my father was a career warrior. I was no nobleman. I proved myself a capable student in a school that is provided to every child in my kingdom, regardless of his personal circumstances. I was offered the opportunity to attend a university and studied engineering. The word Royal in my title as Royal Engineer refers only to the fact that I work directly for the government. Others with my education serve private interests and receive similar wages for their services. There are no…”
“Enough,” shouted Tallun. He rose and faced the middle of the table. “Captain Lampte, this man is my captive. I claim a Captain’s right to silence him and his lies. Have any here ever heard of a king surrendering his crown because his subjects are unhappy with him? I call an end to this farce here and now.”
Fauwler stood again. “What harm can result from hearing more about this land?”
“He is my prisoner!” Tallun screamed shrilly. “I will do with him as I please!”
Fauwler gave a slight smile. “That is eerily similar to what that brat of a nobleman snot said when he ordered his serf to be lashed.”
***
Kal and Gann were removed from the hall and marched to a large confinement facility. They had been kept there for a tenday while the Council of Captains prepared an invasion fleet. Kal was heartbroken, but he took some solace in the fact that he was among his crew. He had to admit that they were being fed and treated well if one ignored the fact that they were jailed.
Kal had been surprised that the man who had been identified as Captain Fauwler visited the jail each day. He had Kal taken out of his cell and brought to a wooden bench just outside where the two discussed at length the social structure of Aspell. The tall young Captain appeared to be genuinely interested in the subject and accepted Kal’s explanations as fact. At first he thought it was possible that Fauwler would be able to sway the opinions of the pirate government against attacking his kingdom. Fauwler told him that he had tried his best, but the prevailing opinions were not with him. The attack would go forward. Once again Kal asked for the blessing of a clean and honorable death.
“I understand your position, Friend Kal,” Fauwler had told him. “Alas, you are the prisoner of Captain Tallun. Our system conveys all rights of captured crews to the seizing Captain. You must make your request to him.”
That had been the last day that he had been visited by the sympathetic Captain. The following day he and his crew had been marched to the quay wall and divided up amongst several waiting ships before embarking for Aspell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GERAAR
Midway through the second day of travel, Taggart and Toria were stopped for a rest and to take advantage of the refreshment offered by a sparkling stream that ran near to the forested path they had been following. Taggart had removed his pack, giving his shoulders a rest and was sitting with his back against a large smooth-barked tree. He had already drank from the stream and was casually enjoying some of the dried meat and fruits that had been provided by Chadd and his people. It was not the first time that Taggart was appreciative of the relatively small number of bothersome insects in Olvion. The surrounding tall trees cast long shadows, and Taggart could see several large birds flying high above. The mild morning temperature was very pleasant, and he was enjoying the opportunity to relax.
Toria had also relaxed for the time it took her to bury her face in the water and tear off a hunk of cheese that had been wrapped in cloth. The cheese had been consumed in a space of time that had left Taggart genuinely amazed. The girl was now once again abusing nearby shrubs and trees with the heavy sword he had received from Chadd. Taggart’s brows knitted as he tried to recall when and how the young woman had gotten it away from him, but since he had allotted himself at least a half hour to rest, he let her actions entertain him.
Toria was dressed much as he was. She wore light green linen trousers held up by a drawstring and a sleeveless jerkin that was long enough to reach her hips. The jerkin was covered and held down by a wide leather belt. Into that belt she had positioned her two knives.
The youth seemed to possess endless reserves of energy. Taggart was impressed with her willingness to engage in training for combat at every opportunity. As he observed her actions she was holding his sword high with both hands while side-stepping quickly toward an unfortunate tree. When she got within striking distance she feinted a strike up high then pivoted totally around and buried the blade into the opposite side of the trunk. She seemed to have a natural affinity for weapons and was able to use speed and flexibility to make up for the upper body strength she lacked. He smiled as she tugged at the embedded blade, which was now stuck quite firmly. She turned a quick glance in his direction to see if her problems in freeing the weapon had been noticed. Taggart pretended to be watching the clouds. She then placed a booted foot on the trunk, and pulled with all of her strength. The sword released its hold, and she struggled to keep her footing when it did.
He had been enjoying her antics and was ready to signal a return to the path when his senses sparked something in his subconscious. He was instinctively on his feet and hefting his spear even before his mind started to engage. He was searching in every direction trying to determine what had triggered his alarm. He saw nothing at first.
“Toria, come here!”
The young woman appeared ready to argue but caught his expression and ran to his side with the sword held in both hands. Together they visually inspected every part of the exposed forest. Taggart identified one of the reasons for his state of worry, there was no sound around them but the gurgle of the rushing stream. The sounds of the forest…the chatter of squirrel-like creatures, the scolding squawks of birds, and the clicking of burrowing insects…had stopped.
Toria seemed to have figured it out for herself. She slowly passed the big-bladed sword to Taggart and smoothly drew her Tooth and Claw. She evidently felt safer with them because of the amount of practice she’d had in their use.
Taggart took the sword in his right hand and raised the spear over his left shoulder. They both stood absolutely still. He made a mental note to himself that she was cognizant of the need for seriousness when it was called for.
It happened with a terrifying swiftness. There was a snapping of a dry stick off to their right, and five Grey Ones erupted from the tree line, running straight at them.
***
Kal was marched from the quay wall up the rise to the castle stronghold. It was midday, and the heat burned his exposed calves. His royal uniform had been either burned or given to members of the pirate crews. He wore only the remains of his once-immaculate shirt and trousers. His clothes, like he, were filthy. His embarrassment and sense of failure tugged at tears, but he refused to release them. It was enough of a dishonor to be brought home in chains and at the head of an attacking force. He would not add the additional weakness of weeping in front of his captors.
Kal wondered where Captain Gann and the other crewmembers were. Probably still divided up and confined among the hundred or so pirate ships. The fleet in the harbor behind him was an odd lot, a mixed collection of large converted freight carriers, sailing sloops and even some vessels that had actually been crafted for the business of war. The armada had obviously been put together mostly from captured shipping.
There were no weapons held upon him, but he knew that any attempts to escape would be less than futile. He was tempted to do it anyway so that it might invite his execution and end his shame. He had been told what he would be expected to say. He wasn’t going to say it.
After climbing the ascending streets and finally arriving at the approach to the main gates leading within the stronghold, the procession stopped just outside of archery range. Tallun, smiling broadly and immensely enjoying himself, sauntered forward as close as he dared and yelled up to the defenders that were arrayed on one of the observation levels above him.
“In the stronghold. I am Captain Tallun of the Kylee ship Necromancer. Do I have your word that if we draw nearer we will enjoy diplomatic protections?”
Above them, Kal could make out the faces of King Tyner and Jo-Dal, the King’s Sword. Tyner had his head leaned in close to Jo-Dal as they discussed the situation before them. He thought he might have seen a widening of the eyes of Jo-Dal when he looked in his direction, but he couldn’t be certain. Kal knew there was no way that the king would be able to pick him out.
The King’s Sword put his hands to both sides of his mouth. “I am Jo-Dal, Sword of the Good King Tyner. You have my word that our archers will pierce your bodies multiple times with the excellent arrows that we manufacture right here in Aspell. Diplomatic protections are reserved for diplomats. King Tyner is not surprised that you are not aware of the protocol since you are obviously lawless pirates who march to our gates leading one of our citizens as a hostage.”
Tallun backed up a few steps and his broad and beaming smile disappeared. This was not the reception for which he’d hoped. He looked over his shoulder and pointed at Kal. “Do you see chains on your citizen? He is no more a prisoner than I,” he lied.
Jo-Dal smiled. “Oh, my apologies then Good Captain. Send my citizen forward, and we will have him tell us of your good intentions.”
The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion Page 8