Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Rienne tried to imagine what Sullyan considered a reprimand if her flash of temper that day was a “gentle reminder.” Shaking her head, she changed the subject.

  “Why do you call him Bulldog? That surely can’t be his name.”

  Sullyan regarded her over her cup. “It suits him though, does it not? His real name is Hal Bullen and he was originally Mathias Blaine’s sergeant-at-arms. After Blaine’s appointment to General-in-Command, Bull became the Manor’s sergeant-major. He was responsible for recruiting and training the extra men required by the King to make this a fully operational garrison. Throughout his military career, he was known as Bull because of his size. When I arrived, he and I became friends right away. I was very young and he looked out for me. He was so tenacious and loyal that the last bit came quite naturally.”

  “So is he still a sergeant-major?”

  “Under certain circumstances,” said Sullyan. “Officially, he has retired, but Bull is not the sort of man to thrive on retirement. I fear boredom would lead him to drink himself to death and I still find him useful. Now he is a permanent member of my personal staff. He accompanies me on diplomatic missions and helps me whip the Captain into shape.”

  Rienne frowned.

  “When I said he used to look out for me,” the Major said, “I meant he stood for me. You understand what that means?”

  “Bull explained it to Taran that first day,” said Rienne, smiling at the memory. “He was absolutely disgusted that Taran didn’t know.”

  Sullyan snorted. “Yes, he would be. But despite Bull’s fitness and size, he has a weakened heart. I feared that neither his physical nor his metaphysical strength would be able to cope with the demands I might make on them, so we decided to look for a replacement. Bull eventually found Captain Tamsen in Lychdale, a remote and poorly run garrison in the far west of Garon Province. Robin has great potential and could attain a much higher rank than Bulldog. He will only do so, though, if he can learn the proper discipline and control.”

  Without thinking Rienne said, “He tries very hard to please you.”

  Sullyan shot her a glance. “So he should.”

  Rienne thought that a little hard. “It’s obvious he’s very much in love with you.”

  She blushed, realizing the liquor in her finished fellan had made her bolder than usual.

  The Major rose, plainly unwilling to continue this line of conversation. “I am well aware of his feelings, Rienne, thank you. More fellan?”

  She gathered the cups without waiting for an answer.

  This sudden change roused Rienne’s curiosity. She was feeling quite comfortable and relaxed, the terror of her earlier ordeal having faded in a haze of liquor-laced fellan. Even her natural timidity was easing. She was warming to Sullyan and it felt good to have another woman to talk to, especially one who understood Taran and Cal so well.

  The Major returned with refilled cups and offered Rienne the liquor bottle once more. Rienne nodded. She smiled as the Major poured a measure into the steaming brew. “Aren’t you joining me? I happen to know that Bull has another bottle, so he won’t miss this one.”

  “I am sure he has, Rienne, but I do not drink.”

  “Not ever?” Rienne was amazed.

  Sullyan shook her head, her now-dry hair rippling like dark waves of amber in the fading light. “I am a senior officer in the High King’s forces, Rienne, as well as a Master-elite Artesan. I have mastery over Earth, Water and Fire, and I can also influence Air. With that amount of power at my disposal, I can never risk losing control.”

  “Well, that must get very boring.” Rienne was feeling more confident by the second. “Surely you can let your hair down now and then? Come on, you’ve had a day off and the evening is in front of you. Aren’t you entitled to a little enjoyment? Here, just a tiny bit won’t hurt you.”

  Before the Major could stop her, she reached over and poured a very small measure into Sullyan’s cup.

  The wary look in the Major’s eyes made Rienne break into giggles. “Go on,” she dared, “live dangerously. Stop being a major and just be a woman. That’s allowed, surely, when you’re off duty?”

  The younger woman gazed at her in wonder; clearly no one had ever spoken to her like that before. She gave a tentative smile. “Do I have your permission in a medical capacity, Healer Arlen?”

  “Absolutely,” laughed Rienne, raising her cup. “To living dangerously!”

  Their cups chinked together and Sullyan sipped cautiously at the unfamiliar taste. A delighted expression came over her face. “This is delicious.”

  Rienne found this inordinately funny and collapsed into breathless laughter. Sullyan watched her, smiling, while Rienne got herself back under control.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” said Rienne suddenly.

  Sullyan sipped her fellan, savoring the heady flavor. “Yes, if you like.”

  “How old are you? And don’t you have a first name? Maybe it’s a Manor tradition, but calling you Sullyan seems so formal.”

  “Does it?” Rienne heard a rueful note in her voice. “Anyway, that is two questions.”

  “Are you saying I’m being nosy? You don’t have to tell me.”

  Sullyan dropped her gaze. “I have no reason not to answer you.” Diffidently, she said, “I am twenty-three. And it has nothing to do with the Manor, Sullyan is the only name I have.”

  “Really?” Rienne was taken aback. There was an undercurrent to the Major’s tone that suggested she hold her tongue, but Rienne was more than slightly tipsy. “Surely everyone has a given name? And how on earth do you get to be a major at only twenty-three?”

  “You are very good at asking two questions at once,” sighed Sullyan, “and the answers are not necessarily straightforward. Perhaps I can best explain by telling you something of my life.”

  Rienne leaned forward eagerly.

  “But I would appreciate it if you do not repeat what you hear. A garrison is unlike any other community and it is not advisable to let everyone know your private business. As the only woman in the King’s forces, there are enough stories circulating about me. I do not want to add to them.”

  “I won’t say anything,” said Rienne, suddenly contrite. “I didn’t mean to badger you, I’m only interested. Please don’t feel obliged to tell me.”

  The Major waved off her apology. “I have no authority over you, Rienne. You are free to ask any question you choose. But where to begin? There are still a few people here who remember the events surrounding my arrival. General Blaine and Bull, of course, and one or two others. Robin has heard the story but I have never sat down with anyone else to talk about it. I have never had the opportunity before.”

  She sounded wistful and Rienne suddenly pitied her. Life must be strange for such a young woman surrounded by only military men and duty. She picked up the liquor bottle and added a little more to their cups. Sullyan didn’t seem to notice.

  Rienne asked, “Don’t you have any non-military friends?”

  “The Manor is my home and its routine my life,” said Sullyan. “My company is my family and we rely on each other. Some of the men have wives and partners in the nearby villages but most of us do not have friends in the way that you mean. I suppose Robin and Bull are the nearest I have to friends, but Bull has served under me and is now a member of my staff. As for Robin, well, things are … complicated.”

  “I’ll say,” said Rienne, a gleam in her eye. “If I had someone like him head over heels in love with me but under my command, I’d feel life was complicated, too.”

  Sullyan flushed. “Yes, but it is complicated even further by the depth of my feelings for him.” She took another swallow of fellan, as if for comfort.

  “I knew it!” crowed Rienne. “But how could you not want him? He’s so extremely handsome.”

  “You think so, too?” Sullyan leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Sometimes, it is as much as I can do to keep my hands off him.”

  Rienne’s eyes widened.
“Off him? Are you telling me that you don’t … that you aren’t …?”

  “No, Rienne.” Evidently embarrassed, Sullyan’s flush deepened. “How can we? I am his commanding officer, our relationship would never be the same again. I could never let personal feelings interfere with my duty.”

  “Piffle,” said Rienne scornfully. “You can’t throw away what might be your only chance of happiness because of duty.”

  She was shocked when tears appeared in Sullyan’s eyes. Immediately, she was sorry for goading the younger woman, for presuming to tell her how to run her life.

  “Don’t listen to me,” she said. “My tongue isn’t usually this unruly. Your life is your own. I don’t understand the situation here so I’m not qualified to comment.” She glanced at Sullyan sidelong. “It is a pity, though, because he really is incredibly gorgeous.”

  Sullyan sighed. “If I was going to lie with anyone,” she admitted, “I would lie with him.”

  This insight into the Major’s personal life left Rienne feeling it would be better if she changed the subject. She returned to a previous question, sensing she would be on slightly safer ground.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You were going to tell me how you got to be a major at only twenty-three.”

  Smiling faintly over her cup Sullyan said, “I became a major at twenty.”

  Rienne’s eyes popped. “Twenty? Good grief, did you do something seriously heroic?” Snagging the half-empty bottle of firewater, she splashed more liquor into their cups, not noticing the fellan was gone.

  Sullyan laughed a bit breathlessly. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

  Rienne cradled her cup in both hands and tucked her legs comfortably beneath her. The Major sipped unthinkingly from her own cup and spoke.

  “I spent my early childhood in a village on the Downs, a few miles west of here. I was not born there. I was a foundling, left on some village woman’s doorstep. I was so young that I remember nothing of my origins, nothing of my parents. Were they too poor to keep me, or was I simply the result of a casual tumble in the hay? Are they even still alive? I have no way of knowing. The only things I have connecting me to my birth are these gems.”

  She briefly touched the glinting stone around her neck, identical to the ones in her ears and on her finger.

  “They are fire opals and extremely rare, they are not mined in Albia. But they gave me my name, for they were found around my neck in a small leather pouch with the word “Sullyan” stitched onto it. This was assumed to be my family name and is the only identity I have.”

  She fell silent, her glorious eyes clouding. Before Rienne could speak, however, she continued, and her voice was a shade harder than before.

  “My life on the Downs was not happy. I had no roots, no ties to its people. They were plain and simple folk with no wealth, so I was a burden to them. I cannot claim I was neglected or ill-treated, but there was never any love. I was always the stranger who did not belong.”

  Rienne looked scandalized and Sullyan smiled gently.

  “You must understand how they saw me, Rienne. Everything about me was different. The color of my hair, the color of my eyes, the way I spoke. These things set me apart and I cannot blame them for not being able to accept me.”

  “But you were a child,” protested Rienne. “A baby.”

  “And they raised me as best they could. It is long in the past now, Rienne. Long forgotten.”

  Rienne said no more but she heard the regret. Heard, too, what could never be forgotten, despite the Major’s assurance—the echoes of an abandoned child’s unabating loneliness.

  Sullyan continued to speak, sometimes swirling the contents of her cup, sometimes sipping from it, despite the fact that she didn’t drink alcohol. Rienne sat mesmerized, lulled by the lilting voice and the mellow glow of firelight in the comfortable room.

  “As my Artesan powers began to emerge, I learned to use them first by trial and error. When the Downlanders learned what I was, I did not understand their mistrust, but I did learn to conceal what I could do. Then one day, quite by accident, I discovered how to cross the Veils, and soon I was spending more and more time away, exploring the other realms.”

  She raised her eyes, allowing Rienne to see her candor.

  “This is why I understand how bereft Taran was at the death of his father and the desperation that drove him to such extremes. I had no mentor at first and was fortunate to escape unscathed. Now I know the value of caution, but I am in no position to criticize Taran’s actions or vilify his mistakes.”

  She dropped her eyes to her cup again, resuming the thread of her tale.

  “When I was about ten years old, news of unrest reached the Downs. It was the beginning of the civil war and it sowed chaos among the lords. Each had to decide which faction to support, each sent men to uphold his chosen cause. This left large tracts of land, as well as villages and towns, undefended. The Andaryans had largely ceased their raiding by this time but the Relkorians, always quick to seize an opportunity, took advantage of the lords’ distraction and their forays into Albia increased. A band of them began plaguing the Downlands and the elders were forced to beg the Lord of the Downs for help.

  “Relkorians are a cruel, fierce people, Rienne. Many of them are slavers who raid the other realms for captives, whom they sell to the owners of Relkor’s numerous quarries. I learned much about them from my travels through the Veils and even at that young age knew more about them than most Albians did.

  “Eventually, the elders’ pleas were heard and a company of swordsmen was sent to deal with the raiders. I had seen Lordsmen before, of course, but never such a well-drilled, cohesive unit. They were different from the usual loose-knit band of young nobles. They were confident, obedient, ordered. I was fascinated, drawn by their aura of camaraderie and belonging, and by their synchronicity of purpose. These were things lacking in my own life and they appealed to me.

  “Once they had scouted the area and discovered the raiders’ location, I followed them. I concealed myself as they made camp and watched as they began their preparations. I wanted to see how they dealt with the Relkorians’ ferocity.

  “I soon discovered that although their commander was a competent leader who was well respected by his men, he was totally lacking in detailed knowledge of his opponent. I thought this was a fundamental mistake, for how can you fight what you do not understand? Even I knew the Relkorian scouts were aware of him, and I knew they would lay up their numbers in ambush.

  “He did not know, so I decided to warn him. When it was dark, I slipped past the guards. I found the commander in his tent preparing his attack, and told him he would be leading his men into a trap.”

  Rienne gasped. In her mind was a vivid picture of a slight, tawny-haired, ten-year-old girl effortlessly slipping past the sentries of a crack fighting company. She giggled at the audacity of it.

  Sullyan continued quietly.

  “He did not believe me, of course, and became quite unreasonable. He told one of his junior officers to confine me in a field tent and then led his men out. I could not let him walk into the trap without trying again, so I managed to convince my jailer I had fallen asleep. As soon as he took his eyes off me, I left the camp.

  “I tracked the men easily, but I was too late. I was forced to hide and could only watch as all those brave young men were massacred in the ambush.”

  Her eyes, which had been glowing warmly in the firelight, were now fully dilated, huge and black. She had taken hold of Rienne’s imagination and the healer could now see, hear and smell the ensuing battle. She heard the screams of the dying, smelled the acrid reek of spilled blood, and tasted the rank sweat of fear on her lips. Thoroughly caught up, she gave a great gasp as the little girl of her vision ran out in front of the badly wounded commander—the last man alive—and spread her small arms against the invading forces.

  She stared in amazement as the hazy lines of an Earth barrier appeared around the stricken man, r
epelling the raiders’ attempts to reach him. She watched as they tried, one by one, to break through the barrier before finally giving up and riding off, leaving Sullyan alone with the dying man.

  “When they were gone,” the hypnotic voice continued, “I turned my attention to the commander. He was barely alive. I knew little enough but I sensed that if I left him to go for help, he would die. He was the last of that brave fighting company, all the rest had perished.” She shook her head sadly.

  “I kneeled down beside him, trying to decide which of his wounds needed immediate attention and which I could safely leave. I had no medical training, only intuition to guide me. It was lucky for me—and more than fortunate for him—that he was an Artesan, although I did not know it at the time. But when I touched him, he must have sensed it in me, for his psyche accepted my aid. I managed to stem the flow of his blood and reach inside to strengthen his heart. I could feel the effects of blood loss and shock creeping up on him, so when I had done what I could, I covered him with the coats of his dead men, caught a loose horse and rode as fast as I could to the village.”

  She paused, gazing at Rienne’s rapt expression.

  “His life was saved by the village healer but it was only later that I learned his name. He was Lord Mathias Blaine.”

  “Blaine?” pounced Rienne, Sullyan’s spell abruptly broken. “As in General Blaine? Oh, my. What happened next?”

  Sullyan took another sip of liquor. “There is not much more to tell. Once he recovered enough to understand what had happened, he sent for me. We talked and he found out about my powers. The village elders told him I had no place in their community so he decided I might be useful to him. And here I am.”

  “But what about your military rank?” asked Rienne, her shyness receding with every sip from her cup. “Don’t I remember Robin saying that your other talents outrank the General’s?”

  “As to military rank, Rienne, you only need to show aptitude and confidence to achieve promotion. Once the civil war was over and Mathias Blaine had settled into his new duties, I managed to convince him to let me train. After two years, I graduated as a captain and was given my own company.