“Damn it! Can’t I be away from the clan’s headquarters for even half a day? What’s so important, and why did he send you?”
“Savronel didn’t send me. I volunteered. I wanted to be the one to see your face when you found out a Buldorian ship delivered a group of people claiming to be Caedelli and insisting they meet with Yozef. One of them is a man who Savronel says is not Caedelli, from his accent.”
“Buldorian! Right into Preddi City?”
“No. One of the Fuomi sloops encountered them heading this way. After a parley, the people claiming to be Caedelli were transferred to the sloop. I didn’t talk with the people, but Savronel seemed excited by something they said to him. That alone makes the day special. You know how creepy calm he usually is.”
Preddi Clan Headquarters, Preddi City
Savronel Storlini was waiting on the steps of the same building the Narthani had used for their headquarters. The ex-Narthani was from a people conquered by Narthon only a few generations earlier. He’d had so little allegiance to the Narthani that he had defected in time to give information and advice to Yozef Kolsko and the Caedellium War Council. After the war, he had served as a major adviser to the reborn Preddi Clan. It now consisted of Preddi Clan members who had survived the Narthani destruction of the clan, slaves brought to the island and freed after the fighting, and thousands of Narthani civilians and soldiers who had opted to remain, rather than return to Narthon. It was a mixture rife with potential for cultural clashes and vendettas still simmering below the surface.
“All right, Savronel, what’s going on?” said Balwis, after dismounting and handing his horse’s reins to an armed guard.
“Well, you were complaining yesterday about having to deal with the same problems day after day. I think God heard you. Wyfor must have briefed you. I have the people in one of the rooms on the second floor. Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll tell you about them before you meet our new guests.”
When they reached the second floor, Storlini motioned to a room two doors down from the hetman’s office. “They’re in there.” Two armed guards stood flanking the door. “Two more guards are inside.”
“Four guards? Wyfor said they were mainly women and children. Only one man.”
“The guards are my idea,” said Wyfor, standing behind Balwis. “I felt my skin crawl when I saw the man. I’m not totally confident even four guards can handle him if this is a trick of the Narthani. That’s why I’ll be going with you if you meet them.”
Balwis turned to look at Wyfor, who, despite being small and one-armed, was still one of the most dangerous men the hetman had ever met. He was native Caedelli but had spent decades off the island in places and doing things he still hadn’t told even people close to him. If Wyfor thought this new man was someone to be cautious around, Balwis wouldn’t question the opinion.
They passed through the outer room for aides and clerks and closed the door to the main office.
Storlini nervously rubbed his hands together. “There’s one man, three women, a boy about ten to twelve, and two children. One of the women is undoubtedly Caedelli, along with the boy and a girl about five years old. She says she’s from the Seaborne Clan and was captured on one of the Buldorian raids. I looked at some reports we had copies of, and her account matches a raid on the fishing village of Nollagen—possibly the first raid by the Buldorians. She says she served as a slave or servant for those years—she’s not clear on how to explain the way the Buldorians consider such people. I’ll be interested in talking with her further at a later time.
“One of the women is small and is definitely not from Caedellium. They tried to avoid having her speak, but it’s clear she’s just learning Caedelli. She has some facial features I’ve never seen before, except that many years ago someone told me of Krinolin crewmen with similar features.
“The real mystery comes in with the other two adults—the man and his wife. The man did most of the talking and says he and his wife are from Frangel. That’s not as far away as Krinolin, but not all that much closer. Both of them speak Caedelli, but with a strong accent that I don’t think originates from Caedellium. How that can be, I don’t know.
“I agree with Wyfor’s assessment that the man is someone to be extremely cautious around, but I sent for you right off because of what he claims. He very obviously used the word Amerika several times—as if testing whether it drew a reaction. I did my best not to respond.”
Wyfor laughed. “That means stone-face here didn’t twitch a muscle,” he said. “I’ve told him that sometimes having no response can be as revealing. That’s why I usually beat him at cards. He should have pretended ignorance and asked what ‘Amerika’ refers to instead of saying nothing.”
Storlini ignored Wyfor.
“The man says his name is Mark Kaldwel. He also mentioned he was curious about a man on Caedellium named Yozef Kolsko. I sense he doesn’t know Yozef personally and only has a vague idea he’s the Paramount. So . . . you can see why I sent for you.”
“Should I talk with him apart from the others?” asked Balwis.
“No,” said Storlini. “He seems protective of his family and companions, plus you might as well see them all at once.”
“All right, let’s do it.”
The two hall guards preceded them into the room with the waiting strangers. Balwis caught only part of the hubbub going on before the entrance of the guards quieted the room. It was as Storlini described: one man plus women and children. Most simply stared at Balwis, but the man stood.
Balwis then understood Wyfor’s reaction to the man. He was Balwis’s height, which was taller than most men. Balwis was also robust but found himself sensing the man was far stronger than himself, similar to the way Balwis felt around Carnigan Puvey. However, Carnigan was a known quantity and a friend. This man was an unknown, and Balwis could tell a similar assessment was going on in the opposite direction.
Wyfor pulled a chair to about fifteen feet from Mark. “Hetman.”
Balwis sat, and Wyfor placed himself halfway between the two men but out of line of sight.
Mark sat, aware of the precautions their new hosts were taking.
“Let’s see if I can summarize this,” said Balwis. “Some of you are real Caedelli who were taken captive by Buldorians, one of whose ships brought you all here to Caedellium. One of you is not Caedelli and speaks the language poorly. Two more . . . you and your wife, Kaldwel, speak a version of Caedelli, but you say you’re from Frangel on the other side of the world. You come here looking for a reaction to the word Amerika and show an interest in Yozef Kolsko. If I haven’t misunderstood, I think you need to elaborate.”
Mark smiled. Right to the point, he thought. No puffing himself up to be sure I appreciate he’s the leader of this province. I think I might come to like this guy.
“I and my family are from Frangel. We had to leave because the Narthani were after me. Why? I don’t know exactly, but it started with my recognition of the word Amerika. I later learned it also has something to do with this island and Yozef Kolsko.”
Mark motioned toward Heather and the Kardyls. “On our way here, Heather Chen joined us in Sulako, and Serwina and her children joined in Buldor. While we were in Buldor, a man named Mustafa Adalan gave me a message to give personally to Yozef Kolsko. I also have a personal reason to talk with Kolsko.”
Balwis shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll want to hear many more details, but I can tell you right off that I suspect there’s more to this tale than you’re telling. Frangel is a hell of a long way from here, so why would you come all this way based on just hearing a few words?”
“Besides staying out of the clutches of the Narthani, I needed to come here to find out why ‘Amerika’ is related to Caedellium and Yozef Kolsko. You see, Amerika is the name of the land I’m originally from, as is Heather Chen.”
CHAPTER 43
“WHAT THE—”
Paramount’s Office, Government Complex, Orosz City
Yozef
Kolsko sighed as he looked at the stack of paper requiring his attention. He had worked on the pile for three hours in the morning, then had mid-day meal with Hetman Orosz. When he’d returned to the office, the pile of papers he’d made so much progress on during the morning had grown to its original height with the addition of reports arriving in mail packets and semaphore messages that always came in as soon as the light and weather permitted.
That’s one advantage of the semaphore over the telegraph, he thought. At least, nothing can come in at night. The telegraph project was progressing, but relaying and amplifying signals still limited the distance messages could be sent.
“I’ll be going now, Paramount,” said Toowin Kales, one of Yozef’s regular guards, aides, and any other role the four men filled wherever the Paramount went. “I’ll turn you over to Synton.”
The referenced disheveled-looking man lounged in a chair overlooking the mountains. “Go home, Toowin. Just remember you owe me for taking your shift. If I’d known it was going to be a day of Paramount paperwork, I’d have refused.”
Synton Ethlore was more at home outdoors, more so than any of the other three men who served as Yozef’s aides and bodyguards. Yozef attempted to schedule Synton’s tours to suit the man, but Toowin had unexpected personal issues needing attention.
That’s when Yozef noticed on the paper pile a folded sheet he recognized as a semaphore message—the seal broken.
He picked it up. “Did it come this way, or did you break the seal, Synton?”
“Disturb messages to the Paramount? Why would I do that?”
“What does it say?”
“Dammed if I know. Something from Balwis and a lot of nonsense.”
Synton’s incorrigible lack of respect for rank or status was matched by his dependability in difficult situations and Yozef’s belief in the man’s unquestioned loyalty to specific people—a few of whom included Yozef Kolsko and family.
“Although I didn’t read it,” said Synton indifferently, “according to Balwis, a Buldorian ship flying a parley flag got intercepted by a Fuomi sloop. Took a lot of nerve for a Buldorian to show up at Caedellium. Anyway, I guess it was transporting some man who says it’s important that he meet you. Balwis says the man claims he has a message from an important Buldorian to be given only to the Paramount. Balwis included a short message that this man, named Kaldwel, said you would understand. I hope you do because it’s just some garbled letters that don’t mean anything.”
Yozef unfolded the message and read. Balwis’s message matched Synton’s summary, though, for once, Synton was less earthy than Balwis’s wording.
Yozef listened to Synton while reading. His smile froze when he got to the part about the man who needed to meet with the Paramount.
“What the—”
Yozef jerked upright in his chair. He leaned to his right to let more window light hit the paper and read again.
“See what I mean?” said Synton. “The personal message to you is just gibberish.”
While Synton talked, Yozef mouthed, again and again, the words written in Caedelli script at the end of the message. Super boll. Gezus Kriste. Mak Donald. San Fransisko. Shikago. Demokrat. Republikan. Santa Klaus.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Olan Thorensen is a pen name. Olan is a long-time science fiction fan (emphasis on ‘long’) who has jumped into independent publication with all its pitfalls and unknowns. He thinks all colors go together: clash, what clash? A fan of Dilbert, Non Sequitur, Peanuts (even if old strips), and still think the end of The Far Side was a tragedy. In his youth, served in the US Special Forces (Vietnam:SOG). Has a Phd in Genetics, around 200 science publications as author and co-author, and is a Fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS). Lives in the Blue Ridge country of Virginia. Thinks it’s totally cool someone can read his stories and enjoy them. Loves fireflies, thunderstorms, is eclectic in music, and thinks four seasons are better than one.
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Cover by Damonza.com.
Editing by Patricia Waldygo.
Passages Page 61