The year draws to a close in Blackstone

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Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2013 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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So there we were, travelling along the final, straight, stretch of road before we returned to our homes. Something had attracted Molly's attention, since her face showed she was being creative with her words again. I was sitting between her and Bettayla, with Gyth and Kords also able to see Molly's face.

The wait was not long.

She slowly said:

“When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the something something something in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur,
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.”

Bettayla shook her head in wonder: “You are very good at this Mistress Molleena. I deem Berdon and I need to talk with you, you could be a great help, indeed an asset, to us. Have you other of her sayings written down, Mistress Julina?”

“Indeed I have. I shall show you them, with Molly's permission, once we arrive.”

“Of course you may, dear 'Lina. Without your scribing, I should have forgotten most of what my weird mind comes up with. …” she broke off suddenly, before continuing, “... And hear the wildlife moving unnoticed in the trees. What think you? Does that work?”

“It is most excellent, Mistress Molleena, most excellent. Might I ask how you do that?”

“Well Mistress Bettayla, this one started out by us climbing that imposing rock face to be met by still another peak. And the words 'lofty mountain' just sprang into my mind. Climbing the rock face, we had no view to our left of course, but a spectacular one to our right, full of grandeur, staring downvalley as we did, climbing ever higher above the trees, seeing the little streams and minor rivers cutting their way down to the main river. Then we met Strettalm, turned left and again we plunged into the woods, surrounded by trees, and cooled by a breeze. Hold! Trees, breeze. And so I had the start of it ….”

“We should find some way to channel this marvellous ability of yours. And maybe you should carry a notebook with you, like Mistress Julina does. Then you could write your own words down, and preserve them that way. I know you write, I have seen you in the lessons we have had on this trip.”

Molly nodded thoughtfully, and agreed with her, wondering at the same time why SHE had not thought of that.

Before Molly could reply further, Parry called from the front of the wagon: “Talking of lessons, who would like to pass some time riding?”

And so it was that we once again rotated riding the six frayen. Haris was the only one who did not ride on that final stretch – including the three wagoneers! All us five girls, Mousa, Berdon and Bettayla, Suril and Haka, Parrier, Dorsal, Farr and Jafferkin – that's fourteen of us sharing time astride one or other of the beasts. I believe I spent the least time of us all as I was busy giving writing lessons to the others, something else the wagoneers found an interest in doing as well. In fact, at one moment, there was an argument between the drivers as they all wanted to do some elementary writing practice and then there would be no-one to drive the wagons. Gyth volunteered, but they laughed at her – until we glared at them and asked if they really felt a woman couldn't do it.

And then there was a clamour from ALL the women, myself included, to be able to drive the wagon. So each of us did, for a short spell of about five moments. I suspect that the dranakh were kind to us as we did absolutely nothing other than to plod forward during those moments!

So of course, I HAD to do some more writing stuff, arranged and performed whilst the others were rotating their sessions astride the frayen, which caused me to have a very strange passage of time indeed, continually repeating the same things but to different students! This lasted maybe a bell and a half until my stock of paper ran out. The wagoneers each promised to ensure they would bring, or arrange to have brought, further stocks for me, in the future, as a token of their gratitude for my patience.

“And reedlets,” I added meaningfully. “And I shall do some lessons for you all up in Blackstone.”

As a result of this, I found myself setting a sort of schedule with them, after enquiring about their daily routines. I would need, of course, to discuss this with Sookie and Master B, but it seems that there was often a mid-morning pause for the drivers whilst waiting for their loads to be placed in their wagon's bellies. Usually they were waiting around for anything up to two or even three bells, thus there were opportunities to fill that time. I could not do it in the evenings of course, as my Salon duties would be tying me up then.

Of course, anything I arranged now would be changed when Master Magser took up his duties.

I could see much confusion in my near future!

… … ...

And so the bells and moments passed as we made our way upslope through the never-ending trees, with only occasional clearings and thinner patches of tree-growth to provide some contrast. As mentioned before, crossing a stream became almost a major event.

I felt that the trees had become almost oppressive somehow.

I suddenly giggled at a thought, and all turned to me to ask what was so funny.

“Well, when we got to Tranidor, we all hated the noise so much, it was almost painful to us. And here we are, in an almost total silence now, and we find THAT offensive somehow. I am looking forward now to hearing some noise around me, something like drawing a well-loved blanket about oneself, for comfort.”

I was surprised that even the wagoneers, who must be used to this sort of thing far more than we were, even they nodded in agreement.

… … ...

“Look 'ee, all! Stay! Can you see, by the light up ahead, that we near the end of the trees?”

Farr's call from the driving seat of the leading wagon focussed our attention to the road stretching straight away in front of us. Jafferkin had to weave our wagon about so passengers on each side of his wagon could get the view.

I don't know about the others, but that sight raised my spirits and I was looking forward, both literally and with my feelings, to seeing our home town once more. I realised with a shock that the view we would have as we emerged from the forest would be the first time I had ever seen our town that way and I sat up straighter, my mind urging us forward.

It still took some time for us to break out into the full daylight, and I was getting ever more fretful until we did. I believe I managed to keep my feelings hidden lest the others be consumed as I was being consumed.

The big moment arrived, and I realised that, in actual fact, all the others had felt exactly the same, since we all gasped.

There before us, still almost a bell away, was our Town, looking like it was nestling into the arms of the eastern wall, as it started to curve round to form the head of the valley.

The sun was shining and we could see, up the western slope heading towards the Stone Sea, towards where that strange Larsenar, who we had all heard about but never seen, had his hut. We gasped at the beauty provided since there was a light dusting of snow up there, snow that glistened in the late afternoon sun.

We could also see the shadows reaching out from the valley wall to our left as the sun began its descent in earnest, but the rays still struck the top of the town, the Bell Tower gleaming brightly, as well as the body of the Cistern.

The air was crystal clear, with not a cloud in sight, and the sky was a deep blue. The colours of the houses were mostly all the same, so that helped, somehow, the slightly different tones of the various rooves to add a wonderful contrast.

“Goodman Farr! Goodman Farr?” I called ahead.

“Aye, Mistress?”

“Might I ask you to please just stop, but leave room for us to draw alongside, I see no approaching traffic and there is nothing coming up behind us. I, no, WE, would like to just take in this view of our home town, just for a moment or two. None of us has ever seen it like this.”

“Aye, Mistress. That we shall do. But not for too long, we still have nigh a bell until we reach the end station.”

“Understood. And thank you.”

… … ...

I suppose the first real thing I noticed that told me of the changes we might expect was the Loop Road junction. Yes, we could see that the bridge was clear of wagons over there in the near distance, but there were no wagons parked at the Loop Road junction, and indeed the staff of the finished, and obviously used, bunkhouse were outside the doors, and begging a lift up into town from us. I suspect they had been waiting for the Shuttle, and Dorsal told Farr to take them up. I realised before being told that as no-one would be working tomorrow, it being a grand day off for all but the most essential staff, then there was no need for the wagoneers to try to gain that extra time from an early departure.

I also noticed that the Loop Road was fully surfaced all the way to the bridge, so I knew that it wouldn't be long before it was being used. My eyes followed the roadway beyond the bridge and it seemed to me to be complete all the way past those few obstacles that had existed when we departed some nine or so days ago. In some parts, particularly up at the top of the valley, it looked to me as if it had been widened considerably. I wondered about that.

There was something about the surfacing of the road beyond the bridge and I puzzled at it until, with a gasp, I realised that it was indeed surfaced, as far as my eyes would allow me to determine, but in what was known as 'Michen's Method'.

I was asked by Bettayla why I had gasped, and so I related the story of the paving of East Street. I saw Berdon and Bettayla communicate with each other silently, but even I could determine that they were impressed. It was only later, weeks later, that I discovered from her that each little thing I revealed, that showed how thinking and observation had been applied to overcome some problem or another, just added to their determination to join in with the community here, one that, to their eyes, was at the forefront of Palarandi development.

I had been tempted to mount a frayen again and to ride on ahead to greet my family, but I wanted also to see things as an approaching stranger would, to experience their views of arriving on the Shuttle. Not to mention that I also felt I should be the hostess to introduce Berdon and Bettayla to our community, and to be there to answer their questions, should they have any. After all, 'twas I who had been the main encourager of their journey, and I was really the 'leader' of this group of travellers now Epp had remained behind in Tranidor.

I did, however, suggest to the others that they should ride ahead, and, in the end, Suril, Parry, Mousa, Molly, Kelly and Gyth did just that. Kords had also wanted to, but when I told her why I was not going to, she surprisingly sat back down, having agreed with me. Molly almost did that as well, but I waved her off, knowing that if she stayed, then Mousa would as well.

Oh how complicated things can get so quickly, and seemingly without effort.

… … …

Berdon and Bettayla were indeed to be lodged at Em's, and there was room for Jafferkin down at the Claw, so all our guests were accommodated with ease. The belongings were unpacked and sorted and delivered and otherwise dealt with, and I spent a while with the frayen in the stables at the Claw, thanking them with little snacklets of malmris that I had scrounged from a Sookie who had welcomed us back with great enthusiasm. There was something different about the Claw that I had noticed as we turned in through the carriage entrance, but there was too much else going on for me to look around and concentrate to see what it was.

As I left, Jafferkin drew me to his wagon and encouraged me to place my arm in Josten's mouth. It was a very strange sensation indeed but I had heard of others doing it before and had some experience already so it was just another odd little occurrence in the many varied experiences afforded me by my birthday trip down to Tranidor – a trip that was now, I realised with some sadness, finally over.

But the sadness was more than balanced by the joy of being reunited with my family.

I doubt that you, my readers, wish to know too many of the intimate details of my return to my family, but I will mention that it felt wonderful to be held in the strong and warm arms of my father, and I wallowed in that sensation for a good two moments, before the need to be a responsible adult once more took over.

I was of course crying at the welcome I got from my siblings, and indeed from Swayga, and I luxuriated in a deep and hot bath, shared with Kords who had also been greeted so lovingly. We had a million things to talk about, the two of us, lying there in the warmth and relaxing, but we just didn't – we appreciated a few precious moments of silence – a silence remember that was comforting since we were surrounded by familiar noises and smells and feelings.

There had been, just before we escaped to the bathroom, plenty of chaotic moments as they all demanded to know all about our trip, and we wanted to know all about the changes and developments that had happened in our absence.

So forgive me if it seems a little cold perhaps to skip over the repeating of our tales to our family and I get immediately into the changes that had happened in Town.

… … ...

I had been right about the upper end of the Loop Road being widened. However, Papa said I had to visit the dam first to see with my own eyes something there, and then he could explain the widened upper Loop Road better. This of course gave rise to a million questions on my part, but he just told us (Kords was of course with me) to have patience for two days!

“Two days?”

“But yes, my children. Tomorrow is the Feast Day and nothing shall be in operation, so I would be unable to take you to any demonstration.”

“Oh! How disappointing!”

“Not really,” he twinkled at us. “It will be a good lesson in having your patience.”

“Oh you horrible old man!” We both laughed at him and he grinned fondly back at us.

Papa mentioned that now both East Street and all the Cross streets were fully paved and the new stone was an excellent surface material. Even the way to our new home was fully surfaced; mostly, added Papa, because the tree growers could get to their orchards more easily that way.

“How could you get so much stone, so quickly?”

“Two days, my dear.”

“Huh?”

“The demonstration by the dam. That will explain all.”

He then went on to explain that all but the final eight casts in the middle of the Loop Road had also been paved, but in the Michen Method. It is expected that the road shall open for traffic on the first day of Marash.

He did relent a little about the two day thingy, when he told us that the Michen Method had also been used to pave the road that was now set upon a solid base, from the bottom of the dam slope all the way to the Camping Place. Our old house was no more, it was under that road surface somewhere, and indeed the start of the foundations for the Community Hall had been dug – just the outline, mind you, but nevertheless the start had been made in that some of the ground surface had been broken.

“And, one of your suggestions is being put into place up there too.”

“Which? What? How?”

Openly laughing at me, he said: “Two days!”

I hit him with my fist – thumping his shoulder in frustration.

That only hurt the side of my hand, causing him to laugh at me even more.

Not even pouting, nor fluttering my eyelashes, nor stamping my foot, would get any more out of him, so I turned away most frustrated. Kords was also frustrated, but she was also torn because she wanted to laugh at me along with Papa.

I (briefly) hated them both.

The Miners' Village had been expanded some more, and their bath-house was completed, and rooved, as was their kitchen and eatery. Which had also become their entertainments room, apparently.

They had formed their own group, and called themselves the Community of Miners of Blackstone; an elected representative had been voted onto the Town Assembly, Goodman Graber was his title and name and he reported to their organising group, which they called their 'Committee'.

There were other changes as well, but nothing quite so major.

All this talk of changes jogged my memory of noticing but not recognising some change or other down at the Claw, and I made a mental note to look closely as we passed by later that evening to the Parade Ground where the events were to happen for the end of the year.

… … ...

It was just before the 6th Bell that we left home to make our way up to the Parade Ground. I insisted upon walking the slightly longer way via the Claw so I could inspect it more closely for the change I had remarked earlier. So we had to leave a few moments earlier than we would have otherwise done.

I know that it seems a long while in advance of the Midnight bell, but Papa told us the Community of Miners had promised some small entertainment before the 'official' events, and that we should be there at the quarter bell after the sixth.

We went along the side of the Claw, on the outside, and joined the Main Road, up which several, nay, many, people were wending their way to the top, to join the crowds at the Parade Ground.

I turned and looked at the Claw and at first I could not see what it was. Then it hit me suddenly. I had become used, in Tranidor, to seeing them, but up here in Blackstone, the Claw had been transformed by having some of the new clear glass windows fitted.

I whirled round, and yes, the Bell had two as well, and was obviously going to have some more, since one aperture was closed over with a canvas, flapping gently in the light breeze that was blowing down from the peaks above the head of the valley.

Main Street had yet another of Sethan's hissing gas lamps further up, and to my eyes, they were all slightly different than they had been before.

“Sethan has added a new gas to the mixture, my dear,” explained Papa. “Apparently this burns slightly brighter, and also slightly slower than the previous mixture. It does give off an orange hue, however, that some find not to their liking.”

We carried on up the hill, hugging our mantles to ourselves and watching our breaths steaming in the air in front of us, for it was a cold night – not extremely cold, but far colder than before. I was aware that there was a slight hissing sound in the background, just on the edge of audibility; it took me a little while to identify that it was from the Sethan lights. I looked up at the skies and had to squint slightly, then use my hand to shade the edge of my vision from the hissing lamps in order to see the sky clearly. There were no clouds at all visible, so the night was only going to get colder!

… … ...

I have, I'm sure, said often enough that we have had very little entertainment in Blackstone over the years, and so you will readily understand the degree of astonishment with which we long-term residents greeted the appearance of two largish groups of people who walked in step down from the Cistern to the Bell Tower end of the Parade Ground, once they had been introduced.

At that lower end, there were two more of the Sethan lamps, quite close together and also close to a wooden dais, which had a funny angled stand in front of it. A man stood on the dais, and showed me immediately what the stand was for, as he took out a notebook and placed it, open, in front of him. I gasped.

“Oh Papa! What a simple idea! He can read his notes even at this time of night. That way, he can write what he wants to say beforehand and not forget anything when he speaks.”

“Aye, lass. Most clever, I agree.”

There were nods of appreciation from others around who could hear my words, and I heard them explain to others farther away.

The murmurs of the crowd around us – I had never seen so many people gathered up here before – slowly silenced as the man raised his hands to indicate that he wished to say something.

As he did so, the bells struck the quarter. The sound faded and he began to speak.

“Your Honour, Masters, Ladies, Gentlemen. Thank you all for attending. My name is Goodman Graber and I have the honour to represent the Community of Miners of Blackstone. I wish first to thank the good townspeople of Blackstone for the welcome they have extended to so many invaders of their space. With very few exceptions, we have been warmly welcomed and have found this a pleasant place to be. We are not all ignorant wielders of pick and shovel, or wagon drivers with whips, or shoring-builders with hammers, all covered with dark black coal dust and the like, and this community here have accepted us into their midst.”

He paused and there were a few laughs, mostly nervous ones from amongst his colleagues.

“As a thank you, we wish to entertain you briefly, for just under half a bell, since His Honour there, Captain Bleskin, will ascend this dais at the three quarter bell. We have some talented singers amongst us, pick, whip and hammer wielders by day, but something else by night.

“I am pleased to announce that tonight we have a male-voice choir to sing three songs to you, and a female-voice choir to alternate with the men, who will sing two songs for you. So, enough from me. I present to you the Community of Miners of Blackstone's two choirs!”

The crowd at the top parted to allow through twenty men, all dressed identically and who marched in ranks of four abreast down to the mid-point of the Parade Ground. They were followed by a similar group, but females this time, also identically dressed in the feminine version of the men's attire. They too marched in step to their assigned position. Then each group broke apart from its rigid lines and formed a loose half-circle of two curved lines, the taller ones being behind the shorter ones. The two half-circles thus formed a complete circle round one man in the middle who had a sort of short stick in one hand.

This man raised his hands and then dropped them. As it went on, I realised that he was waving his stick in order to maintain the rhythm for the singers, and he would use his other hand to call in groups of similar-toned singers at the appropriate heartbeats.

I am not sure how many in the mining community had heard a male-voice choir before, but none of the residents of Blackstone had and we were all left with mouths agape as the men sang so movingly and powerfully. They sang in a tongue unrecognisable to any of us gathered around, except maybe some others of the miners, but the emotions they managed to conjure up were more than easily understood. Later, I received some translation of a few of their songs' words – for example, their first song, apparently, was of some land they called the “Old Land Of Our Ancestors.”

The applause they received as they finished that first rendition was heartfelt, and came from us all.

As that applause died down, so the man in the middle waved his arms once more, and then the female half performed their first song.

Again, the applause was most loud.

Well, let me just say that the men, then the women, then the men continued their short entertainment.
Just for the very last moment, both choirs sang together.

The sounds these groups had produced during this half bell sent shivers down many a spine, and held us all in rapt attention.

There was something fundamental about a dedicated group all singing together that made it so very special. It was certainly more than unusual for us long-term residents, and, I suspect, for many of the newcomers as well.

All listeners were, I'm sure, affected by the emotions conveyed; and yet we knew from experience what emotion was still about to come! I was glad I had provided myself with so many cloths, and had encouraged the rest of my family to do so as well. My forethought proved to be well-founded!

… … …

I need quickly, at this juncture, to say that I knew not various of the words I have used above, before that night. It was only afterwards that I discovered the correct use and spelling of such words as 'dais' and 'choir'. And 'rendition'.

These first two words featured quite heavily in my lessons after that. Words that all my students would now be able to relate to.

But I digress.

Back to the tale.

… … …

Quite how they did it, I do not know, but as their last note died away, the tower sounded the three-quarter bell, which was the signal for His Honour, our Steward, Captain Bleskin to step forward and make some remarks. I record them here, even though they may be rather long, and I must furthermore record my thanks to His Honour for giving me his notes afterwards, that I might scribe them here.

Using just the power of his voice, and speaking entirely without consulting any written notes, he held us all engaged as he spoke. This was a speech that will never be able to be repeated simply because of the events of those times, so perchance 'tis best I make as full a report as I may.

“Citizens, friends, families, colleagues, youngsters and oldsters, men and women, boys and girls - indeed the entire community of Blackstone Town, and I see, from Blackstone Vale too - welcome! It is pleasing to see a small party of travellers have returned at the last moment to be with us this e'en, and it is with all our best of wishes that we welcome so many so-called strangers to the Town this year, so-called strangers that have and will work so hard to improve our place. So-called strangers that shall be no strangers as we forge our new community together.

“It is that time, again, when we traditionally gather together to consider the events of the past year, and I deem that this past year is probably a year that shall never be repeated.”

There were slight laughs from parts of his audience, some wry, some bitter and some sympathetic.

“Tomorrow, I shall again have the honour to address you in our Ladyship’s name, but tonight, as we all know, it is about the past. It is when we let go of the old in preparation to gather in the new.

“However, I must forewarn you, I find it necessary that I shall indeed be required to refer to some things of the future, but these references shall perform a mere footnote to my remarks now. I wish to make it absolutely clear from this outset, that I deem it to be one of the greatest honours of my life to be standing here speechifying to all of you on this very momentous occasion. And I thank you for your attention and consideration.

“Just as I give thanks, on all our behalves, for the most excellent entertainment just afforded us by the Community of Miners, the men's choir and the women's. Please let us show our appreciation once more of their fine performances.”

He paused, of course, to allow the applause to be sounded. Applause which was duly given. Heartfelt applause, not just token applause, but real, true, from-the-heart applause, applause that was repeated even more forcefully, it seemed to me, than that which had gone before.

As it died down from its noisy heights, I happened to be looking at His Honour. I saw him take a deeper breath, wait for the right moment and then he raised his voice slightly to regain attention. As he proceeded, I remarked that he had got a little louder or changed his tone, or something like that. And from this indefinable change, we could all tell that he had changed the subject matter from the more formal, some might say necessary, introductory topics, to more of a … a … a … story-teller's passage.

Attentive silence fell rapidly as soon as his carrying voice uttered its first syllable.

“At this time,” he paused after those few words for everyone to settle down, “at this time a year ago, no-one living here could have had an inkling of what this year, the year 1174 since the Great Flood, was to bring. I am reliably informed that the few residents of Blackstone there were here then, all gathered at this same spot, of course, to sing the traditional Song of Refreshment. They departed to their homes blissfully ignorant of the disaster about to fall upon this high-mountain, remote and yet wildly beautiful community.

“Myself, I was many marks away, and, despite being born really rather close to here, knew of Blackstone only as the most distant community of the great conglomeration of lands known to Anmar as ‘Palarand’. I had other duties then, duties that I was shortly to rescind, but nevertheless I was fully busy, and gave nary a thought to this location.

“I am told that these proceedings, at this time last year, were barely over before a short, sharp snow storm arrived.”

We all looked at the sky then, the cold air sometimes obscured by the steam of our breaths. The stars were bright and the moons doing their business as usual. There were still no clouds in sight. We switched our attention back.

“I deem we shall not suffer that inconvenience this night.

“Not long after that seeing out of the old year and the singing in of the New Year, just a few short weeks later, the Lord of All North Palarand, His Grace the Duke Gilbanar, decided to send a tax inspector up here. He was concerned by reports from his accountants of significant changes. I understand that the said Tax Inspector's mission was to investigate the lowering of incomes that had been derived and whether or not there was something that could be done for the populace should they be finding themselves in difficulties. This Tax Inspector was named Trogan.”

There was a hiss from some, but His Honour ignored the slight interruption.

“Meanwhile, a rogue, who went by the name of Hasad in Tranidor, where he was in severe danger of being apprehended by the authorities, decided to skip away from that town before such an event could happen. He chose to try to find some easier money elsewhere. He was accompanied by a mixed band of scofflaws.

“Hasad's and Trogan's paths intersected, and the unfortunate Trogan was murdered, once the opportunistic Hasad had determined poor Trogan's mission.”

This statement brought forth some hisses of shocked disbelief from amongst those who had not been here at the time.

His honour overrode them, however by raising his voice in some indefinable fashion.

“Hasad assumed the Tax Inspector's identity so as to match the letters of appointment the real Trogan had been carrying. The real Trogan's servant was murdered too, simply because he was in the way of the evil plans Hasad had hatched.”

Again, some gasps could be heard. Again the Captain forged on over them.

“These plans were of necessity hatched at the drop of a hat, and Hasad could not believe his luck. For them to work, of course, the entire Tax Inspector's party had to disappear, and the men were, without further ado, murdered where they stood.”

More and louder gasps came from some of the crowd, and murmurs of surprise. All who knew not the story were now shushing the neighbours that they might better hear.

“Blackstone fell into Hasad’s trap, and he set about systematically bleeding dry the entire community. These were dark days in Blackstone. Dark days indeed. He stole coin, belongings and beasts, leaving the local economy, which had never been very strong, in a state of near-collapse and close to ruin. He and his henchmen importuned young women here and did several most distasteful deeds. Several citizens were imprisoned, forced there by threats to wives, daughters and so on; all enforced jointly by he and his men together.

“The Town sent for help, but the effort was discovered, and those unfortunates were also summarily murdered.”

More gasps, and not just a few grunts of anger.

“Meanwhile, across the other side of Palarand, indeed out of Palarandi lands, up in the mountains near the pass out of somewhere known as Blayvardis Vale, a young woman was discovered on the mountain side. This was close to the trade route between Palarand and Moxgo, and she was discovered by a trade caravan belonging to Master Tanon, and commanded by Master Jaxen. I must, in fairness, mention that her appearance was something of a mystery but the explanation of THAT tale is not for here, not for right now. Many around know some more of the details so I shall refrain from repeating them. Newcomers to our community can freely ask of those who know more, to satisfy the curiosity I sense coming from a goodly number of you.

“Hasad and his men continued their depredations of this unfortunate community, at the same time as the young woman was being taken in, and eventually adopted, by the King and Queen no less. She was made a Baroness and some lands were granted to her.”

A slight pause, but everyone was by now hanging on to his words, particularly nearly all of the miners and their families.

“The other nobles thought that those lands granted to her were worthless, and thus chuckled to themselves, raising no objections. But this young woman knew different. She has knowledge in her head that is frankly almost unbelievable, but she has been proved right again and again. The lands she was granted were … those immediately round where we are all now standing. Yes, I speak tonight on her behalf, Baroness Garia of Blackstone.

“I have the honour to be her voice here and now. But, again I must emphasise, I am talking now of the beginnings.

“She chose to inspect those lands that she had been granted, and travelled here with some companions.

“This was a disaster for the murderous Hasad and his crew, for they were soon captured by the Baroness and her forces who were accompanied on their travels by the Crown Prince of our lands and HIS bodyguard. Justice was employed, and Hasad and his henchmen live no more.

“And so began, out of the ashes of the very darkest of dark days, a burgeoning hope, a hope and now a belief in a far brighter future than any might have conceived. This community is set to become one of the leaders of civilisation in the entire realm, and shall be an example all over this world, as we start to set in place the ideas Milady brought with her.

“Thus were devised the many plans for the expansion and development of a no-longer stagnating village. In the ensuing weeks and months, those plans have been laid and are being implemented all the while. So many plans, and on such a grand scale, that inevitably some priorities were found to have to be changed when problems arose here or there. An urgency was applied to as many tasks as possible, lest the winter bites deep and brings activities to a halt for any period of time.

“And that, generous audience, is where we stand now. At the very forefront of Palarand’s development. Yes, PALARAND’s. Not simply this town, but we are building the future of all Palarand, and probably all of the Great Valley, if not all of Alaesia.

“But it is a part of making a speech at this moment that I must concentrate on the past this evening. And I congratulate all here, for we have indeed laid the foundations for a great expansion, and I fully expect this town to double in size, AT THE VERY LEAST, before the Longest Day of next year is achieved.”

There was a shocked intake of breath from some around, some of whom were only now grasping the significance of their endeavours.

“I deem that the future here is bright. Although I fervently hope …” at this point he looked meaningfully at the gas lanterns hissing at the edge of the Parade Ground, “… that it shall not be quite so … orange.”

Again there was laughter, and I do believe that everyone bar poor Sethan joined in.

The Captain raised his hand for silence, which was almost instantly granted him.

“Then recently, we heard the joyous news that Milady and the Crown Prince are betrothed. Milady shall be the next Queen of Palarand. Our own Baroness.”

There were some cheers at that, genuine joy. He beamed all about, his smile warming all there gathered.

“This year has been, I think all shall agree, one that started with the old and has finished with the new. A year that has gone from mundane, down to the depths and then soared high from those desperate times. It is therefore meet that tonight’s Song of Refreshment shall be started by our oldest citizen, Mistress Rentna, who shall then be supported by Mistresses Patilla, Shantoona and Pomma.

“I must needs inject a quick practical note at this juncture. As tonight the 7th Bell should follow mere heartbeats after the Midnight Bell, there shall be no 7th Bell sounded. For which I am sure that Mistress Rentna shall be grateful. Her chance to shine should not be drowned by mere bells.”

Again he paused, again there were laughs from all around.

He continued: “There shall be some slight structure to the Song this e'en, but all shall join in at the obvious place. For I am told it shall be obvious. The Song shall run its ancient course and shall quieten as you all deem fit. And the last voice to be heard shall be that of one of our newest residents, Master Pocular.”

Again a pause, but no-one filled in the ensuing silence with any laughs.

It was a respectful and anticipatory one, so it was almost a let-down and disappointment when he concluded with: “And that, gentlefolk all, is all I have to say – for tonight. I deem I should rest my throat for a further effort on the morrow. I thank you all most sincerely for your attention, and also for your support, not only of myself but also of Milady’s Assembly. Long may it continue. Now I must rush my last words to beat the Midnight Bell. Sleep well all, I shall see you on the morrow, here again, at the third Bell of the day, the Extra Day that counts not in the month! Pray silence now for the Midnight Bell.”

… … ...

I have here above reported his words, but mere words on paper cannot convey the warmth of his delivery, his ability to command the attention of all, his carrying voice, nor his obvious passion for this town and its future. I think that everyone there right then would have laid down and let him walk all over them had he demanded it, but, of course, that is not something he would ever do.

Again, I had time, just, to be surprised at the ability of these practiced speakers to be aware of time passing, for the silence was both profound and respectful, so when the Midnight Bell sounded a mere hand or so of heartbeats afterwards, its double chime was both expected and at the same time shocking.

… … ...

The second chime was just about to fade completely away when a solitary female voice chanted a note – it was not a word as such, just a vocalisation – the note matching exactly that of the bell used for the chime. All could hear the age of the singer as she moved onto her second and third notes, and then onto her next hand and more; then some other voices joined in, and the Song was performed, eventually by us all.

This year, I fully appreciated what was done as the ‘old’, slow voices started us off, and a male voice joined in fairly early on. This went on for a while before the women’s choir just shocked everyone by launching in enthusiastically, loudly and unexpectedly.

… … ...

I break off here from my descriptions to interject that this performance of the song, I fancied, followed the events of the last year, with a gentle start, the depression of the Trogan days as hinted at by the male voice, and the sudden and unexpected arrival of Milady, with the brightness of the future she brought with her, as portrayed by the suddenness of the female-voice choir's entrance into the Song.

This, at least, is the way I see it. As mentioned, perchance I am being fanciful in my interpretation of how the event unfolded and blossomed.

… … ...

This explosion of the female voices was indeed as the Steward had said, an obvious invitation for the rest of us to join in. It was not at all long before sufficient of the stronger voices had carried it onwards and upwards, carried it so that it had built enough to persuade even the weaker singers, and I certainly consider myself amongst those numbers, to join in. I knew the words to sing, they come somehow to everyone at this event, and yet I knew not even the name of the tongue the words were in.

None of us longer-term residents could ever remember such a powerful Song; I suppose the reason could have been simply that we had never had so many people joining in before, and yet there was an underlying core that made itself felt so strongly, a core that none of us had ever experienced in any of our prior Songs.

But this Song, the Song I am attempting to describe, THIS Song rose, demandingly, incessantly, compellingly until it seemed to reach to the peaks - and then, almost unbelievably, it went on further, on it seemed to reach to the moons and then on to the stars themselves, carrying all of us humans with it. It reached a mighty power that was almost unbearable; I must confess I felt I was about to burst.

It would be impossible to pin-point at which heartbeat and which voice it was, but one voice dropped out, then another, and yet another, and more, and more, eventually including my own. Somehow, I just knew the right heartbeat at which I should stop.

Slowly, others around me also fell silent, until we were again observers rather than contributors. However, we still felt as though we were participants, somehow.

And so it was that the Song gently wound down, amidst many sobs, sighs and tears from all around, mostly from the females I confess.

The choice of Master Pocular as the finishing voice was inspired, for his rich notes reverberated in all our heads as we each made our individual ways to our homes and beds, in an absorbing, and moving silence.

A perfect end to the year.

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