by R. L. Poston
“And the children of these two want to be married?” asked Larken incredulously.
“Yeah,” answered Tragen. “So, that’s why you’re going to have a good chance to practice sensing violent emotions beneath the formality. These two men really, really hate each other, and their kids really, really love each other. It’s going to be interesting. That’s half the reason we’re going to be there. They don’t trust each other, and both figure that we’ll keep the other one honest.”
“Or maybe just alive,” commented Larken.
The actual betrothal didn’t turn out too badly, Larken reflected later. A little stiff and formal, but both sides were grudgingly trying to do the proper things for their children. Larken did get to practice his mental Talents, and was able at times to narrow his focus just to the bad emotions. He was much encouraged, as was Tragen, by this first success. Tragen also commented favorably on his ability to keep a straight face when talking with the two dads.
“It wasn’t easy,” laughed Larken as they rode away. “Those two were having the worst day of their lives and pretending to enjoy it.”
“Did you catch the way that their wives kept them on short leashes?” asked Tragen. “The mothers were not about to let their husbands ruin this day.”
“I did notice some elbow jabbing and shin kicking going on when they thought that no one was watching,” said Larken. “I also noticed you strangling on some of the punch.”
“It was either do that or laugh in their faces,” said Tragen. “When both the fathers swore that the families would be blessed by the merger, I thought I would laugh or burst. Did you catch the waves of hate rolling out of them at the same time they were smiling at each other? I tell you, Larken, I wouldn’t buy anything from either of them. Judging from the way that they can lie with straight faces, they’ve had an awful lot of practice at it.”
Larken and Tragen went on many patrols together over the next three months. Because of Tragen’s patient training, Larken gradually became able to selectively limit his reception of emotions. Limiting his reception to strong negative or violent emotions proved to be a comfortable compromise between alertness and privacy.
One early morning near the end of their third month together, they were riding with a small complement of cavalry through the farm region west and south of the city. They had started early to enable them to return well before supper. Larken now marveled at his own change of thinking as he surveyed the areas around the city. When he had approached the city as a smith’s apprentice, he had been awed by the press of people and the variety of shops and goods. Now he was dismayed over the possibility that he would be called upon to defend such a random conglomeration of structures and homes.
But even his new Warder sensibilities could not spoil his enjoyment of being out in the cool weather. Passing a local smithy, Larken was amused to hear the smith bellowing at one of his apprentices. Tragen saw Larken smiling at the smith’s berating of the apprentice and suggested that they stop and give the smith a hand. Although Larken declined with a laugh, he was tempted to do just that. He still missed the simple life that he’d had in Ox Run. More than anything, he missed the evenings that he had spent with Melona and her parents in blissful unawareness of the larger world’s problems and issues.
Larken enjoyed seeing Tragen’s diplomacy in action as he fielded minor complaints from the citizenry. A few complaints were noted for referral to the castle staff. Many more required quick decisions, and these Tragen made on the spot. Most of these required nothing more than applying reason to a simple matter between two unreasonable parties. Even in the simplest matter, however, the Warder’s decision was law unless appealed to the castle.
In the late afternoon, as they were returning to the city from the north, they came upon a large grassy field filled with ragtag tents, wagons, and lean-tos. Larken estimated that there were at least two thousand men, women, and children living in the various shelters. Tragen told Larken that these were refugees from Norland who had been driven out by recent raids on their northeast border. Norland had recently sent messages requesting assistance with the raiders and the displaced citizens. King Andreas had requested Commander Jaris to keep an eye on the refugees, but not to interfere with them.
The patrol meant to pass by the refugee camp on its eastern edge. When they were seen, however, a shout went up from the camp, and a dozen or so men intercepted them before they could pass by. Tragen and Larken dismounted and walked to meet the group.
“I am Tragen, Warder of the second rank. Whom do I address?”
“I am Quinon, formerly of Milltown in Norland,” answered a bulky man slightly over six feet tall. “I have been elected by the camp to represent our concerns before King Andreas. We sent a petition to him three weeks ago. Since then, I have sent several messages asking about the petition but have had no word at all from the castle.” Larken felt a strong sense of urgency and anger radiating from Quinon.
“Three weeks is not a long time to wait for the king’s attention,” said Tragen, “but I will be pleased to take another message to my commander, who can pass it through the proper channels to the king.”
“Another message to be lost in the bureaucracy while our families starve!” growled Quinon. “We need assistance now.”
“What is it your wish?” asked Tragen.
“We are not beggars,” said Quinon. “We don’t want a handout. We came expecting to settle in Shropanshire to make our living, but all the land belongs either to others or to the king. We only want the right to clear land and make a living, but as soon as we try, we are told that it is a crime to cut the king’s trees. How can we live if we can’t farm? How can our families eat if we can’t build homes and shops?”
Tragen said nothing, but silently studied the man. Larken knew from the apparently casual manner that he gripped his Blade that he was using his Talent to probe the other’s thoughts. Then, as Quinon started to speak again, Tragen held up his hand for silence and said, “You have a serious problem.”
Quinon was completely nonplused by Tragen’s statement. He looked to the others in the group in puzzlement. Anger grew on his face, but Tragen interrupted whatever outburst was brewing. “Wait,” he said. “I'm not mocking you, but I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what happened to your petition or messages, but messages do sometimes get lost in the castle. What prevents you from settling in Shropanshire’s towns and villages?”
“We are all from one village,” answered Quinon, “Milltown, in the north of Norland. It wasn’t much, but it was ours. Then, raiders destroyed the village to the east of us. Rather than stay and let our children die, we decided to move our village to protect our families. Now we want to rebuild our village in Shropanshire, but we don’t have the land. It’s easy to move a family; but we have moved a village. Now we need land to rebuild it, but only the king has the land.”
In Shropanshire, as well as Norland, the land belonged to the king. He could give grants to villages or individuals, and usually was generous, but the land reverted to the king’s ownership at the death of the individual or the dissolution of the village. Surviving members of a family were usually granted the extended use of any land in question, but the granting of enough land for a village, with the necessary surrounding acreage for support of farming and hunting, was no small affair. Larken had learned enough from his tutors to understand that the automatic granting of village acreage to any group from another kingdom could lead to a massive land grab as others heard of it.
“I am only a Warder,” Tragen said. “What do you wish for me to do?”
“Take me to your king,” answered Quinon. “I will present our need to him.”
“I cannot do that,” answered Tragen. “I can take you to the castle, but you would have to wait your turn to have an audience with the king. I can help you make your case to the clerks, but I don’t have the authority to set the precedence of those that make petitions for an audience. These are serious times, and the king ha
s many demands on his time. You may have to wait a few days more. I will help you get to the castle, but I can’t help you beyond that. Would that be enough?”
“No, it won’t,” said Quinon. “Here’s what you can do: you can arrest me for the crime I am about to commit. Since it will be a serious crime, you must take me before the king himself, not some lowly clerk.” Quinon reached for a crossbow that one of his companions was holding. Pointing the crossbow at Tragen, he said, “I know that you can’t stop bolts at this range. Neither can you prevent me from pulling this trigger. I will surrender only after you arrest me for attempting the murder of a Warder. Then you will have to take me before the king. Have I made my case clear?”
Tragen was frozen. Larken could sense the despair radiating from Quinon, who was willing to sacrifice his life for the lives of the other villagers. He would surely be executed. Without thinking, Larken reached out with his Blade-assisted Talent and mentally separated the bow line where it fit into the nock of the bolt. The release of the crossbow arms sounded exactly as if Quinon had pulled the trigger. Tragen gave a gasp and fell back clutching his chest, expecting to find a bolt embedded in it. Quinon dropped the crossbow in terror, believing that he had shot the Warder. The commotion of Quinon’s and Tragen’s men gradually quieted as Larken came forward to pick up the crossbow and confront Quinon.
“You have aptly demonstrated your case, Quinon,” Larken said. “So aptly that I do not believe that you are well balanced in the head. We are going to arrest you, not for endangering a Warder, which you have not, but for examination by our Healers, who will both Heal you and present a full report to the king. Consider yourself under arrest.”
Quinon could do little more than stare at the crossbow in Larken’s hands. Tragen was also staring at it in shock and disbelief, so Larken turned to a cavalryman and said, “Take him into custody, but be gentle. I fear that he may not be at all well.” As the cavalry rounded up a horse for Quinon, Quinon and others stammered their thanks and apologies to the Warders.
Tragen, however, was of a different mind. As they rode toward Sarkis, he questioned Larken repeatedly about what had happened. Larken was as amazed as Tragen about what he had done.
“You realize,” said Tragen finally, “that no Warder living can do that? It’s a Talent that has never been seen.”
Larken said nothing. He was as surprised about what he had done as was Tragen. After riding in silence for a while, Tragen remembered to thank Larken but then promised to box his ears if he ever repeated a stunt like that at Tragen’s expense. Back at the castle, Tragen immediately brought Larken to Commander Jaris to tell him Larken’s new ability. Jars, in turn, called for a meeting of the High Council.
The High Council took a more serious view of Larken’s ability. Larken was not able to demonstrate the Talent again and his efforts to do so left him edgy and exhausted. Elerdan and Eleas, who were called into the Council, had no explanation and were equally amazed. Larken promised to try to develop the Talent, and all Warders and Healers were directed to make repeated efforts to replicate the ability in others.
“Even a small advantage, such as misdirecting an arrow’s path, could turn the path of a major conflict,” summarized Jaris.
Chapter 11: A Matter of Priorities
Larken’s schedule had become very full. He was still training with both the Warders and Elerdan and Eleas. Evenings included a short session with Commander Jaris, followed by hours of reading on history, strategy, diplomacy, and law. He was frequently summoned to attend High Council meetings. In addition, Larken was expected to participate in Warder patrols of the surrounding countryside at least twice per week. He had been given an office close to Jaris’ office. Most evenings, to Melona’s disappointment, he had his supper delivered to his office and continued working late into the night. Fortunately, since Bonding, his need for sleep had decreased to just five hours per night.
Melona’s hours were also increasing, but she was not under the same levels of demand and stress that Larken was. She had fallen into the habit of joining Larken for supper and trying to schedule some time during the days in which Larken was free to join her for a quick talk. Still, neither was satisfied with the arrangement. Besides being constantly hurried, Larken was showing signs of tiredness and stress that went beyond his physical need for sleep.
Melona discussed the changes in Larken’s moods with Gahen and Taz. They had noted the change in his mood, but believed that he would eventually adjust to his new schedule when he became more proficient at managing his time. Gahen suggested that Larken was not using his ability to delegate very well.
“What’s there to delegate?” asked Melona. “Most everything he does involves his learning something new. How can you delegate your reading assignments to someone else? Besides, he doesn’t have a staff. Remember that the Council didn’t want him to supervise anyone.”
“That’s all true,” admitted Gahen. “But he’s got a lot to catch up on. It should get better after a while. But maybe I should talk to Jaris about easing up on him. We sometimes forget that he’s still a kid.”
“He’s not a kid,” blurted Melona. “He’s just overwhelmed, and he tries to do everything that anyone asks.”
“Maybe that’s his problem,” said Taz thoughtfully. “Maybe he needs to learn how to say, ‘No.’”
“What could he say, ‘No,’ to?” asked Melona.
“Don’t know,” answered Gahen, “but I wonder if Jaris knows how much he’s trying to do? I’ll have a talk with Larken.”
* * * * *
Later, when Gahen found Larken, Larken was not very favorable toward the idea of complaining to Jaris. “I know that you are trying to help,” Larken told Gahen, “but I don’t want to start being a complainer.”
“All right,” said Gahen, “let me present you with a theoretical problem. Suppose you had a staff, and suppose you needed a project done right. Would you want to know if the person that you gave it to was too busy to do it right?”
“I suppose,” said Larken, not liking where this path of logic was leading.
“Would you furthermore expect your staff to keep you apprised of their workload so that you could know how to prioritize the work you gave them?”
“OK,” said Larken. “I see your point. I’m just uncomfortable complaining to Jaris.”
“Don’t look at it as complaining,” answered Gahen. “Look at it as being a proper steward of your and his resources. Remember, the smith that you worked for knew everything you did, so you would be just complaining if you told him that you were too loaded. But Jaris doesn’t know half of what you do. In fact, he expects you to keep him apprised of what you’re doing and how much you have going on. That’s the only way he can be responsible to Andreas for managing his Warders well.”
“OK,” said Larken. “Your point is taken. I’ll talk with Jaris tonight.”
* * * * *
That evening, Jaris listened with interest as Larken somewhat hesitantly brought up the subject of his workload. After Larken had stumbled through a few attempts at properly phrasing the matter, Jaris stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Just get to the point,” he said. “You’ve been a sub-commander for about nine months now. On an average, how many hours per day do you work? And break those down into the categories of training, patrolling, meetings, and administration.”
When Larken had given Jaris his best estimation, Jaris summed up. “OK, we’re pushing you too hard. I don’t want you to work more than fourteen hours per day except on rare occasions. Prioritize your work this way: Meetings with the High Council come first. There’s no way you can avoid them. Next, you need to go on patrol at least twice per week to build practical experience. I would prefer that you work with Tragen as much as possible since he shares some of your unique Talents. He’s also very skilled in diplomacy, and I would like you to make a special effort to learn how to handle difficult negotiations. Then you’re going to have to do the administration stuff, but let’s get you
an assistant or two. Better yet,” he mused, “let’s get you a personal assistant with a couple grunts for him. Have them keep your schedule and paperwork for you. If they can do it, have them do it, even if you think it’s not their job. Then prioritize your training sessions with the Warders and the Elves next. Put the Talent stuff first. Put the classroom stuff after that. Leave the reading assignments for last, and always ask our library staff to give you a summary of the books you’re to read. Then read only the summaries unless you want to delve deeply into some particular area. I don’t do much reading anymore, myself. I depend on my staff and my second ranks to summarize for me what I need to know. If you keep to these priorities, feel free to tell anyone, including myself, that you ran out of time. Anyway, let’s try that for a plan. What do you think?”
“I’m stunned,” answered Larken. “I guess I haven’t been managing my time very well.”
“One of the lessons that Warders learn as they move up through the ranks is how to manage their time and workload. You haven’t had time to learn that, so we’ll have to teach it to you. I’ll have your personal assistant report to you by tomorrow evening. He’ll already have a couple of assistants of his own. I’ll leave it up to you to let him know that your day is going to be limited to fourteen hours. Make him responsible for that and all the running back and forth between people. He can also run interference for all those folks that want a piece of your time.”
“Will he be Talented?” asked Larken.
“I don’t think so,” said Jaris. “The castle has enough unTalented people running around without enough to do that we can find someone good out of that crowd. If the one that I get assigned to you doesn’t suit you for any reason, I’ll expect you to go to the chief steward to have him replaced. Make him responsible for his own assistants. It’s going to be your responsibility to make sure your staff is effective, however, even if that means changing them.