Overture

by K R Schultz

  Aeron Suul differed from the village near his farm. The Abrhaani here made their houses and shops from squared blocks of stone, not timbers like the ones in New Hope and Dun Dale. Thatch, not wooden shingles, covered the sloped roofs. Aelfric saw plenty of trees farther inland, but there were many squarish broken stones along the shoreline, and the nearby grassland provided plenty of material for the thatched roofs. Materials at hand and the Greens’ reluctance to cut timber dictated construction methods in every Abrhaani town.

  Each house along the street had the usual garden planted with various herbs and vegetables. Aelfric’s guide turned onto a side street, walked a few more paces, and stopped in front of a small shop with a colorfully painted sign. Aelfric could not read the characters on the sign, but the pictogram showed that it was a trading house.

  “The master be in here.” His guide pointed to the door.

  “I suspect you had best go first and give me an introduction.”

  “I reckon you be right. The master might think we been invaded if’n you was to go first.” His guide smiled and stepped through the darkened doorway into the shop. Aelfric had to duck to get through the door built to accommodate Abrhaani physiques. The average Abrhaani stood chest height to Aelfric. Few stood as tall as his broad shoulders.

  Shelves and crates, organized in neat rows, lined the walls in the shop’s dim interior. Trade goods of all kinds lay displayed on the containers and boxes. At the far end of the room, curtains separated the store from the office. Muffled voices came from behind the drape.

  “The master be in the back, sir; I’ll fetch him for you.”

  Aelfric stood among the crates near the entrance so he could see both doors and escape if negotiations went awry. The conversation in the back room subsided when his guide disappeared behind the screen.

  The voices began again at a diminished volume that built to a shout of disbelief. When the curtains parted again, an overweight Abrhaani man emerged, followed by Aelfric’s guide and another Abrhaani of similar build to the guide. The men approached through the semi-gloom and stopped just outside arm’s length.

  The overweight man leading the group looked at Aelfric, grinned, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, and leaned back against a barrel.” It’s been a long spell since I laid eyes on you. The last time we met, you offered me a king’s ransom to bring you to the Southland. I warn’t sure you survived the boat ride to the shore. Now you be standin’ in front o’ me again after— a double handful o’ years? And where’s that woman o’ yours?

  “My compliments to you, Captain Harmish. Glad to see you again after not ten, but sixteen years. I would have believed you drowned long ago in that leaky tub you sailed,” Aelfric said, avoiding the question about Shelhera.

  “Well as it so happens, that schooner sank off the island of Khel Nett two years back. But I warn’t on it. Sailors swear that island is cursed, and I believe it’s true. Never ventured near that rocky wasteland myself.” Harmish’s raucous laughter sounded more like a seal’s bark. “I sold it to an unfortunate fella and bought me a fine new brig with what you gave me for your fare and what I got for the other as payment. The extra mast, sail, and hull length make for better speed, and I can even sail her backward if’n I has a mind to.” Harmish held out his arm in welcome.

  Harmish and Aelfric clasped each other’s forearms in friendly greeting. “I need your services again, Captain, to bear me in the opposite direction. I cannot pay you much for this trip, only a small purse of gold, some fine silver jewelry, and a few silver bars.”

  “Should I ask why you be wantin’ to go back, or am I better not knowin’?”

  “Let’s say I want to pay my respects to my family.”

  “Nuff said. You can keep your gold, but how much silver do you have?”

  “I have nine bars in my pack.”

  “You found a place to settle somewheres, I reckon. How far inland did you settle?”

  “I built a house near the village called Dun Dale. It’s a two-day walk from the town of New Hope. Do you know it?”

  “Gods, man! Does I know it? I trades for lumber and rope from there for our shipyard. It takes a month to get there! How long was you in getting here?”

  “Two tendays ago I left my house with what you see on me.”

  “So you was on the road twenty days luggin’ that great heavy sword, nine bars o’ silver, and provisions? I’m surprised you be still standin’. You set a good pace too, with them long legs o’ yourn.”

  “I suppose I did well enough for an old man, but part of my journey was by boat.”

  “By boat! Who’d a brung you by boat?”

  “No one. I came alone in the dingy you gave me.”

  “Well then, where’s this doughty little craft. It’d be good to see her again.”

  “I lost it in a storm ten days ago. It broke apart on the rocks, so I walked the rest of the way.”

  “And you done it all in twenty days loaded like a pack beast!”

  “You might say I took a shortcut, and it was nearer to twenty-two days. I would’ve been here half a tenday sooner if I hadn’t lost the boat in the surf.”

  “Stumblin’ over them rocks and a-slippin’ on that gravel, that’d be no shortcut I’d be takin’, either old or young. You might say the gods arranged our meetin’, since I just made port the day before yesterday. But enough o’ this jawin’, we got a bargain to strike for a fare to Baradon.”

  “If possible, I wish to leave now, and the price is whatever you name.”

  “Well, we be leavin’ with the tide this evenin’, and because o’ the luck you brung me after the last trip, you can keep your silver too. I coulda been on that ol’ boat o’ mine had you not paid so handsomely, so I reckon I owes you that much at least, for causin’ the gods to favor me somewhat.”

  “The gods… Ha! I want no involvement with the gods. I’m glad the gods favored you, but they have shown me no kindness.”

  “Well, be that as it may, they seems involved with you, whether you likes it or not. So get to the Sea Witch and stow your gear. Hermad here,” he pointed to Aelfric's guide, “will show you to your berth. We leaves in three hours. You might want to stop and get a good feed—or mebbe not. As I recollects, you warn’t able to keep it down last time. Maybe it’d just be a waste o’ good vittles.” Harmish grinned at Aelfric amused that such a powerful man had succumbed so horribly to seasickness on his last trip.

  Aelfric nodded. He and Shelhera had spent most of the previous voyage bent over the ship’s rail while they spewed until their sides ached and their throats burned. Aelfric preferred good solid ground beneath his feet. The constant roll and heave of the Syn Gersuul wreaked havoc on him and Shelhera. Their infirmity provided the sailors with hours of amusement. An empty stomach might be better.

  “Oh, by the by, the Witch has another passenger besides yourself, a fine gentleman from Narragan, headed east, just like your lordship. It’ll be my last crossing afore the winter storms begin. It be a short run to Sethria. I won’t risk a longer voyage like Camikola or Edalis at this time of year.”

  “Sethria will do just fine, and I keep my own company, so I expect no problem for either of us.”

  “Kinda hard to keep your own company on shipboard. It’s close quarters, my friend.”

  The prospect of sharing the voyage with a dandy from the big city displeased Aelfric, although he wondered what business an Abrhaani gentleman had in Baradon. “Take me to the ship, Hermad, and show me where to bunk and stow my gear,” Aelfric clasped the captain’s hand to seal their bargain, wheeled and headed for the door. Hermad trundled after him like a faithful hound.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Options

  After Rehaak left Aelfric’s home, he hurried along the road toward New Hope. The mist had risen higher than the stream’s banks and swirled around his feet as he approached Dun Dale. Bogged in a morass of conflicting thoughts, he passed through the village. When he reached the tannery at the vil
lage’s outskirts, he wrestled with his choices once more.

  If I return to the house where Laakea and Isil wait, I endanger their lives. The assassins will kill anyone who aids me in my quest, but without their help, I face the dangers ahead unaided. I suppose I could ignore the Creator’s command and abandon my mission again. That worked out so well the last time.

  The more distance he put between himself and his friends, the farther it was to return and jeopardize their lives. Rehaak hated to abandon Laakea and Isil, but he passed the tannery without stopping, almost convinced they were better off without him.

  Lost in his conflicting thoughts, Rehaak ignored his misgivings and continued away from Dun Dale. The winding wagon trail toward New Hope grew straight, and when the mist lifted, he gained a better view of the road ahead. A lone man strode down the straightaway toward him. Instead of the work-worn, patched clothes typical of locals, the traveler's garments fit well, and their style indicated wealth and power. The fop was a member of the Abrhaani elite, no doubt a high-level bureaucrat from Narragan.

  Strangers who wear expensive clothes and ooze political power seldom visit the village. What is he doing here? Rehaak stopped walking. His eyebrows furrowed and then released as he watched the man draw closer. I must discover why this man travels to Dun Dale. Influential people never visit our backwater village, and most wealthy folks remain ignorant of Dun Dale’s existence. His presence shows that someone high in the government has taken an interest in our little corner of the world.

  Rehaak resumed walking, but a roiling in his stomach and tightness in his chest made him suddenly wary. Rehaak’s dark eyes evaluated the traveler as the distance between them narrowed. This man’s presence could be good news or bad news. As Rehaak approached, the man ahead stopped and leaned on his ornate carved staff.

  “Hello!” The man said, his smile barely visible under the thick mustache and braided beard. He extended his hand to Rehaak. His many rings sparkled and flashed in the noonday sun. Rehaak reached forward, and when the fellow clasped Rehaak’s hand in a forceful handshake, the jewelry left imprints on Rehaak’s fingers.

  Rehaak winced and broke free of the man’s grip. “Well met, friend,” Rehaak responded. “Where are you headed, if I may ask?”

  “Dun Dale is my destination. Have I taken a wrong turn?”

  “You made no mistake. This road leads to the village. I did wonder if you had lost your way since I only recently heard of the place myself, and I am more familiar with these parts.”

  “Dun Dale is indeed my goal, as it has been all the weary way from Narragan. I would relish your company if you walked with me, although my journey takes you in the wrong direction. I fear the trees are closing in on me in this isolated area.” He extended his arms wide, gesturing at the forest around them. “These vast empty spaces without people set me on edge. This, I fear, is no fit place for one accustomed to city life.”

  If I return to Dun Dale with him, I might discover what this stranger’s presence here means. He could be a source of vital information. After a moment’s hesitation, Rehaak said, “I have no objection to your offer, sir.”

  “Dreynar var Asan is my name.” Dreynar used the second name, customary with the nobility. “Call me Drey. I am on an inspection tour.” Drey’s eyes glittered with energy and enthusiasm, and he oozed charisma, but there was a sharp edge to his polished manner and charm.

  Should I give my actual name, since this outsider is a nobleman from the city that exiled me for heresy?

  Drey did not say what he inspected, nor did he mention who had sent him on this long journey without an escort. Rehaak chewed his lower lip. Does he have anything to do with the assassins sent to kill me? Nobles do not wander the countryside without an entourage.

  Despite Drey’s friendly manner, alarms continued to sound in Rehaak’s mind and left a sour taste in his mouth. He chose caution over honesty. “Saarik is my name, noble sir.”

  “Unless I am mistaken, your speech tells me you are a man of breeding.” Drey paused and peered into Rehaak’s eyes as if to gauge his honesty.

  “Not of breeding, noble sir, but I am an educated man, the result of ambitious parents,” Rehaak lied a second time.

  “Ah, I suppose all parents have that inclination to a greater or lesser extent. It is natural for parents to want better for their children than what they’ve received at the hands of the gods. Let us continue our conversation if you would be so kind as to accompany me.”

  “With a good will, sir. Lead on.” Rehaak turned, extended a hand toward Dun Dale, and gave a shallow deferential bow.

  “No doubt you wonder about my retinue, or rather my lack of retainers.”

  “I admit the thought crossed my mind. It is…unusual…for one of the gentry, such as yourself, to journey this far without companions.”

  “Ah yes, they deserted me along the way when brigands set upon us. The blackguards left me to fend for myself, but I am handy with this staff I carry.” He brandished and twirled the showy rod he carried. “I managed to make the villains wish for an easier target. Although I lost my baggage in the encounter, I escaped with my life and limbs intact. I should have taken my men instead of hiring mercenaries for the journey. I will not repeat that error, Saarik.” He nodded, his expression the very personification of regret.

  Drey’s story rang false, and Rehaak’s apprehension increased.

  “What is it that brings you so far from the capital, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”

  “You may indeed ask, but I am not at liberty to explain my mission…financial matters. I cannot say more than that. What brought you to this hinterland, Rik? May I call you Rik? Or do you prefer Saarik?”

  “Rik is fine, most people know me by that nickname. I grew tired of the city, and I chose this direction on a whim and settled here for a long while. It has suited me well until recently.”

  “Ah, do I detect the winds of change tugging at your cloak? I suspect you would make an excellent traveling companion and delightful company. Do you seek new adventures to satisfy your soul, my friend?”

  “You might well say that, Drey. I have traveled widely for most of my life, and perhaps only my custom calls me onward, but I believe it may be time for me to move along once more. Life has grown tedious in these environs.”

  Dreynar said, “I can well believe that life in this hinterland could become monotonous. So few folk of culture hereabouts and so little entertainment for people with refined tastes. To journey together would be wonderful! I could use a stalwart companion such as yourself. You should join me. Our encounter may have spiritual significance, and we may gain mutual benefit if we join forces.”

  Rehaak hesitated and swallowed hard. “I must first ask a question. Where are you bound after you inspect Dun Dale?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Kyonna Begs

  Since her summons to Eideron’s home, Aibhera’s mood oscillated between flattered and flustered. As the time approached for the dinner hour, she began pacing. Mother and Leoned will arrive soon, bringing the younger sibs back from the communal crèche with the other field hands’ children.

  Kyonna, her sister, flounced into their shared bedroom and sprawled onto a sleeping mat. “I just bumped into Sim on the way home. Why didn’t you tell me you were going upslope to hobnob with the rich and powerful tonight?” She sat up. Aibhera stopped pacing, and Kyonna leaped to her feet. “I have a brilliant idea—I should come along.” Before Aibhera could speak, Kyonna began rummaging through a pile of clothes scattered across the floor.

  “Stop that!” you can’t come with us.” Aibhera grabbed her sister’s arm.

  “But why can’t I come with you, Aibby?” Kyonna stamped her foot, garments clenched in her fists.

  “Because Eideron didn’t invite you, silly.” Aibhera ignored her younger sister’s pouting. Kyonna was two summers younger than Aibhera, but despite the similarities in appearance, the sisters were as different as frost and fire.

  Both had
the slight builds, black hair, ocher skin, high cheekbones, slightly pointed ears, and chiseled facial features typical of their Sokai ancestors. Aibhera, the eldest of four children, had the edge on her sister in height by a finger width. She and Kyonna were the offspring of Riessa’s first husband, Kerrik, who had been a Synod councilor, until his mysterious death.

  Riessa, their mother, took Leoned, their stepfather, as a lover not long after Kerrik’s death, and they produced two children. The twins, Lissa, and Lara were much younger than either Kyonna or Aibhera.

  A few ultra-conservative members of Sokai society frowned on remarriage. If the husband of a childless couple died, those zealots expected his wife to join him in death and be composted alongside him. Those same few expected widows with children to remain unmarried, but neither option suited their spirited mother’s style. The majority disliked those strict notions but were too timid to voice their opinions since disagreement with those attitudes often brought reprisals.

  Leoned, their stepfather, was an engineer who built and maintained the wind and steam turbines that provided power for the generators and pumps serving the valley. Abalon needed his unique talents with sophisticated machinery, so despite his relationship with Riessa, he kept his position. Leoned moved downslope to live with them because the council had forbidden Riessa and the girls to join him in his upper-level quarters. His sacrifice proved his devotion to Riessa and her daughters.

  Their union affected the entire family. Many of Abalon’s upper classes shunned Aibhera’s mother and her children. Ultra-conservative Synod members considered Riessa a loose woman and tried, judged, and passed sentences on Kyonna and Aibhera too. Innocence was no protection from their prejudice.

  The Synod drew members from the ranks of the most learned men and women of the Sokai and governed every aspect of life in Abalon. Synod Councilors were the elite of Sokai society and had the power of life and death over their people. Any decision by the Synod carried grave implications for individuals, either for good or for ill. No one wanted conflict with a Synod member. Many councilors acted petty and vindictive, so the ordinary folk feared them. People held others like Master Eideron, the most senior man on the council, in high esteem because of his firm, impartial judgments.