Passages

by Olan Thorensen

However, the topic that consumed most of Mark’s hours on horseback was his discouragement about his and Maghen’s lack of progress toward their long-term goal.

  A month later, he sat down with Maghen after evening meal. “We’re just not able to save enough coin.” Alys amused herself nearby with two rag dolls.

  “You have to be patient, Mark. We’re doing all we can. We knew it would take many years.”

  “Dear, maybe you were thinking longer term than I was. I confess I thought about a three- or four-year range, but if it continues as it has, it’ll be ten years at the earliest, maybe fifteen years.”

  “But what else can we do? Keeslyn increased your salary as he’s given you more responsibility. You do extra jobs for neighbors as time allows, and I sew and make clothes to sell.”

  “That’s what concerns me. We’re doing the best we can, which means we need to do something else. I have an idea, though you’re not going to like it.”

  He pulled out a pile of papers. “A few months ago, you asked me what I was scribbling on in the evening for a couple of sixdays.”

  Maghen had watched, puzzled, as he covered pages with symbols she didn’t recognize. He hadn’t explained why it amused him to employ his mechanical engineering degree to kill a nightmare creature.

  “I had the idea then but hoped it wouldn’t be needed. It’s a plan for a new type of musket—one that will fire a ball with more penetrating power and more accuracy at longer ranges than anything I’ve seen in Frangel. It also fires a different type of ball, called a minie ball, that makes it faster to reload.”

  Maghen looked at the writing but still didn’t recognize the words or the symbols.

  “Is this in the language of your people?”

  “Yes. English. The words are descriptions of parts and purposes, along with mathematics.”

  “Matha . . . uh . . . what do calculations have to do with how the new musket would work?”

  He pulled out a sheet with a diagram. “I know it looks like just another type of musket, but it’s larger, with a longer barrel, and the inside is rifled . . . uh, just different so the ball is more accurate.”

  “But what is the musket for?”

  “It’s for our own land and the only way I see we’ll ever get it before we’re too old. It’s for me to go destrex hunting.”

  The next hour was as close as Mark and Maghen had yet come to a knock-down, drag-out argument. He had been prepared and patiently let her vent, while he argued why it wasn’t as dangerous as she imagined. He felt only moderately guilty about putting a good slant on every aspect.

  Mark knew that in Frangel society, the husband had the final say in all matters. Yet it was a foolish man who exercised that authority more than necessary. However, Mark remembered his parents’ partnership, in which they discussed and argued until they settled a disagreement without permanent rancor. Mark also fought his own history. The marriage to Jocelyn was hallmarked by his giving in to her whims, even when he thought them frivolous or childish. Whether he could have avoided empowering her behavior without ending the marriage sooner, he didn’t know.

  Yet Maghen was a different situation. His initial trepidations about how they would get along were soon assuaged. She was honest and opinionated but didn’t believe her personal preferences had to prevail. Whenever they disagreed or when tensions arose for any reason, they managed to talk about and come to a resolution they both accepted. Mark hoped something similar would happen by the end of their discussion about destrex hunting.

  He waited until he sensed she’d begun to run out of steam—though not out of opinions.

  “Maghen, I’m going to do this if it’s possible, but I want you to understand two things. One is that I don’t believe it’s as dangerous as you think. Second is that I want your agreement, even if you don’t believe I should do this. The reason is that it will require finding a gunsmith who can make this rifle. That will take a good part of the coin we’re already saved.”

  Somehow, the talk of coin and safety gave her another topic to focus on, or she might have come to the realization Mark was intent on what he proposed. She sat, arms crossed, mouth fixed, and looked at him with smoldering eyes.

  Sensing her resignation, Mark pressed ahead.

  “The reason other hunters are in extreme danger is that they have to get too close to the destrex because a musket’s range is so limited. Even a killing shot might leave the animal dangerous enough to attack before it dies. When I described to you that destrex hunt I was on, we started firing at seventy yards.”

  He didn’t elaborate on how one of the idiots in their party had fired early before they got close enough to ensure hits with enough penetration.

  “With this new musket, I’ll be able to fire from at least two hundred yards, possibly even three hundred yards. If I’m careful, I can fire from a position where the destrex won’t know exactly where I am. Then, even if it’s wounded, it won’t know which direction to charge. I’ll also find positions with natural protections such as rock formations or large trees it can’t climb on. Yes, there will be a bit of risk, but no more than working on a ranch.”

  He wasn’t being totally honest. There were no large trees in destrex country, and rock formations were notoriously immobile, so the odds of finding them when he came upon a destrex were hardly worth estimating. He would prefer to have two or even three of the rifled muskets, but the cost of even one would likely drain most of their savings. And that was assuming he could find a gunsmith able and willing to make the rifle.

  He also didn’t include the detail that he would be approaching the animal after he left the horses or a wagon well behind to avoid giving the destrex something to spot and charge at. The best Mark hoped for was to find a position where he could fire, then step out of the creature’s line of sight and reload.

  After another hour of going over the same details several more times, Mark offered a last sop to his wife.

  “Of course, everything depends on getting the rifle. Even then, I’ll want to prove to you that the way I intend to hunt is so much safer than how any other hunters do it.”

  He felt only slightly guilty that once they paid for the rifle, it would be next to impossible not to use it.

  “All right,” she said, “but I’ll want to be convinced.”

  He struggled to avoid looking too pleased at her capitulation. Nevertheless, it was a sixday before her mood improved, and that likely happened because Alys said her first word. This meant she made sounds clearly identified with an object. This development calmed Maghen’s worry that Alys was slow to begin speaking. Mark had told her that his mother once said that all of her children had been late and then caught up quickly. Mark didn’t mention that since he’d told Maghen about hunting destrex, he had been prompting Alys to say, “Ma-ma,” whenever they were alone together.

  Two months later, Mark camped on the outskirts of Landylbury, the third-largest city in Frangel. The port lay in eastern Frangel near the Madyrna border, only a hundred miles closer to Nurburt than Kaledon. In comparison, Brawsea lay four hundred miles farther away. More than two years had passed since he’d left Brawsea, but he didn’t expect the guilds’ memories to have faded.

  Even going to Landylbury was a risk, but Nurburt lacked a gunsmith able to produce the rifle Mark needed. He considered attempting a disguise. However, while ranch work had stripped off what little extra weight he’d carried in Tregallon, he couldn’t hide his size. He settled on wearing a stocking cap favored in the colder southern part of Frangel and a hooded coat. He also minimized his presence in the main part of Landylbury and avoided the harbor area where there might be people from the guilds.

  He spent one day posing as a stranger looking for an expert gunsmith to repair a favorite musket. Although he received a variety of recommendations, one shop kept coming up, either as someone’s top suggestion or as an alternative. Minyn Lustor and his two sons owned a firearms shop with an adjacent smithy and forge they used to make weapons on site.
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  “Why do you need this weapon?” asked Lustor, after Mark showed him diagrams of a 90-caliber rifle that weighed twice as much as most muskets.

  “No offense, Ser Lustor, but the use is not relevant. My only question is whether you could make this weapon.”

  “Oh, me and my sons can make about anything, but you must know this will be expensive, maybe as much as ten times the cost of a smoothbore musket. To make this rifle, I’ll first make a new mandrel to forge the barrel around. Mandrels need careful work using the hardest metal, not something many gunsmiths can do. Oh, there may be one other blacksmith in Landylbury who could do it, but I’m not boasting to say that if it can be done at all, I’m the best one to try it.

  “I’m curious, if you don’t want to say what use you have for such a weapon. You must know that loading such a large rifle will be a slow, strenuous task. The time it will take to force a ball down the barrel with the rifling ridges makes the weapon effectively impractical for anything but single shots if time is a factor.”

  “That’s a problem for me to be concerned about. For now, I’ll request an estimate of the cost of such a rifle.”

  Lustor shrugged. “Well, it is your coin. Let me think. Time. The new mandrel. Likely things going wrong when doing something like this for the first time. So . . . ”

  The gunsmith looked upward with his eyes unfocused as he thought. When he finally gave the estimate, Mark’s hopes sank. It would cost most of their saved coin.

  He needed to provide an incentive for the gunsmith.

  “Of course, once you make the mandrel and work out the procedure, producing more of the same gun will be much cheaper. You would be the only person making such guns.”

  “Where’s the market?” asked Lustor. “I don’t even know why you would want such a gun, so why would I expect anyone else to want one?”

  “If I told you what I intend to use the gun for, how do I know you won’t tell others?” asked Mark.

  Lustor looked offended. “I think I’m known as the best gunsmith in Landylbury. If I betrayed the confidence of customers, my reputation would suffer. Besides, I’ll swear to you by Saint Disalyn that I’ll keep the information to myself.”

  Mark had never heard of Saint Disalyn and didn’t know what the weight of the oath involved, but he didn’t see that he had a choice. “All right. I’m going destrex hunting.”

  “Destrex!” exclaimed Lustor, who then turned pensive. “Hmmm. The rifling will allow firing from farther distances, and the heavy barrel will let you use larger gunpowder charges. I think I see now how you expect this to work. You think you can kill the beasts far enough away to be safe. That’s one reason their hides are so expensive. Too many hunters end up being torn to shreds or eaten.

  “Now that I think about it, once word gets out about a rifle for hunting destrex, there will be men who’ll want the rifles for hunting other animals, even if they’re not needed. I suppose that might be enough demand for me to make more rifles. I’ll admit I’m interested in the challenge. But I’m thinking of making a counteroffer. If the rifle works as well as you think it will, me and my sons could either do some hunting ourselves or pay other men to do it for us. In return, I won’t charge you anything for the rifle. There should be plenty of destrex for both of us.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Mark. “If too many hunters suddenly have increased success at destrex hunting, word will get out about how it’s done. Other gunsmiths will figure out how to make the rifles, and soon there will be so many hunters that the price of the hides will drop. That’s a chance I don’t want to take.”

  Mark counter-offered. “What if we agree that you will make the rifle for half of your estimate, and you can make another rifle and hunt yourself in three years? By that time, I should have made enough coin for my purposes, and it’ll be up to you how you want to proceed.”

  The bargaining was on. In the end, Lustor agreed to make two of the rifles for Mark at no charge. Mark could then keep all the coin and hunt for two years, or until he quit destrex hunting. At that point, Lustor’s family had the rights to make all the rifles they had customers for and to begin their own hunting.

  Two months later, a message came to the ranch that a package for Mark was waiting in Nurburt. It had been delivered as part of a cargo caravan from Landylbury to tradesmen and shopkeepers.

  Maghen was reassured when she saw the rifles. “My God, Mark! I think I almost believe you’re right. Those are the biggest muskets I’ve ever seen.”

  “Rifles, Maghen, they’re more correctly called rifles or rifled muskets, although the second name is more accurate when referring to a musket with its barrel rifled.”

  “You explained how these rifles work, so I’ll assume you know what you’re talking about. I know I’ve never seen one before.”

  “Well, you may have seen the one Keeslyn Toodman has. I’ve only seen him with it one time. They’re rare because of the expense to make them. Now remember, don’t tell anyone they’re rifles. I’ll be telling people they’re just big muskets that let me use a larger powder charge.”

  He held up one of the minie balls he’d made while waiting for the rifles. The steel-covered lead shot with lead skirting was designed for penetration and aerodynamics.

  “These are smaller than the barrel, so they are faster to load. When the rifle is fired, the lead skirting expands to seal the ball against the inside of the barrel. As the powder drives the ball down the barrel, the spiraling introduces a spin to the ball when it exits the barrel, making it fly straighter.

  “Maghen, I’ll be asking you to help by making what are called cartridges. Let me explain. Most muskets and rifles are loaded by pouring powder down the barrel, then taking a musket ball out of a pouch and pushing it down the barrel. Having two separate sources for powder and the ball slows reloading. Plus, you can’t pour the exact amount of powder each time. A cartridge is where a specific amount of powder and the ball are sewn inside a small paper pocket. If I have these for my rifles, what I do to reload is take a cartridge, hold the ball, and shake the cartridge to collect the powder at the bottom. Then I bite off the end with the ball and pour the powder down the barrel. Next, I take the ball out of my mouth and put it in the barrel, followed by the paper. That will keep the minie ball from coming out, and I ram the ball and paper down the barrel. It’s faster reloading this way.”

  It was only when planning the rifle and cartridges that Mark realized how little he knew about the Frangel military. There had been no sign of it in Tregallon, but he’d noticed individuals and groups of uniformed men in Kaledon and Brawsea. However, the only time he saw formal military units was one morning as they broke camp on the way to Kaledon. Several hundred troops rode three abreast past their camp. Now he wondered whether cartridges were in use or if the troops still had to pour powder from a powder horn or a similar device.

  “As soon as we can, I’ll take both rifles into the countryside to test them far enough from the ranch, so no one hears them firing. I’ll zero in both rifles and learn the exact amount of powder you should use for the cartridges.”

  “I’m going along to watch,” said Maghen. “You said these rifles would be more accurate than muskets and would penetrate more, but I want to see it.”

  The next Godsday, Maghen feigned not feeling well when the monthly caravan went for the Nurburt Cathedral service. The three Kaldwels rode two horses six miles from the ranch to a small canyon whose bottom Mark used as a test range. After the first shot, Alys jumped and began crying. She was quickly soothed by Maghen and became acclimated when her mother made it a game, and they clapped hands before and after each shot.

  After an hour of firing, Mark was satisfied, which was fortunate because his shoulder ached from the multiple recoils. Even though he had greater strength than on Earth, the heavy weapons challenged him to hold them steady after ten shots per rifle.

  “I’m pleased,” said Mark, while cleaning one rifle and teaching Maghen the same proce
ss—at her insistence. “Lustor really is a master gunsmith. The two rifles are closer to being identical than I thought possible with Anyar technology and no proper vernier calipers.”

  “Technology? Vernier calipers? What are those?”

  “Oh . . . just words describing how to measure small distances accurately. The important thing is that no matter how he did it, Lustor did a great job. Both rifles are reliably accurate for hitting a two-foot target out to four hundred yards.”

  He started to say he thought he could hit something the size of a destrex at six hundred yards but caught himself before he reminded Maghen how big the creatures were. He also didn’t mention that fouling of the barrels from the black powder became noticeable by the tenth shot, and he didn’t know how many more shots could be taken before each rifle became inoperable.

  He consoled himself that the rifles only had to fire a few times to kill a destrex. It wasn’t like he was fighting a war. The time would come when he would remember that consolation.

  Whether it was the day of firearms practice, Mark and Maghen’s realization that the destrex hunt was really going to happen, or some other factor, both of them were energized, and they made love three times that evening and night. The first two times were in full view of two-year-old Alys. The toddler watched the first time, then ignored them during the second round, except for glancing at her parents’ bed when Maghen cried out in climax.

  It had taken Mark some time to accept the Anyar attitude that sex didn’t have to be hidden from young children until they began speaking in full sentences, an ability Alys was near achieving. Even then, the reason for privacy was more to avoid awkward moments with a child describing to anyone listening what their parents did at night.

  CHAPTER 25

  DESTREX SOLO

  Keeslyn Toodman shook his head to go along with a facial expression that conveyed his lack of confidence in Mark’s plan.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Mark. I’ve never heard of anyone hunting destrex alone for long before getting himself killed. I won’t try to dissuade you because you’ve obviously planned this for some time, and you’ve gotten those rifles. I seldom use my own rifle, but I’d like to try yours someday. As for being gone for two sixdays, as long as work is caught up before and after you go, it’s all right with me. And yes, you can use the extra horses and wagon, as long as we don’t need them while you’re gone.”