Keeping the populace in control.

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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 © 2020 - 2022 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 - 2022 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Frang’s heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to drag his burden silently across the mud and shingles that formed the bank of the Sirrel just here. Every scrape sounded like thunder to his desperate ears. He had scouted out this stretch over the previous evenings and knew the Yodan watchmen rarely came here, that they were usually happy gathered round their fire in the crude lean-to eighty-odd strides downstream.

But he had never ventured out here at this late hour. So were his observations even valid?

And rarely did not mean never! Usually did not mean always!

One step at a time, lad. He limited his thoughts to what he had to do next. If he dwelt on the enormity of the task he had set himself, he doubted he could sustain the required courage. Yodans dealt harshly with people they determined were trying to escape from the onerous regimes they had imposed.

Finally, his craft was bobbing on the waters and he fastened it securely to a stony outcropping.

He knelt down and built a cairn of stones before placing a candle in there, which he lit from a strikestone. This was a dangerous moment, but the cairn did as was hoped; it protected the candle from the breezes but, more importantly, hid the flickering flame from any view except that from the bank directly behind Frang.

He sighed and rose once more to his feet, before returning to the mound of the dunes from which he had so secretively emerged a half bell earlier. He was already under a certain time pressure so he needed to get on with things.

… … …

“Why am I wearing this dress?”

“Because we are supposed to be going to see your Grandmother, and I wanted you to look your best,” replied an obviously exasperated Eginet, in a slightly too loud voice. “And now you have mud and blood all over the front of it! And, I daresay, the back too! I shall have to go and find a healer and then disappoint Grandmama in person.

“Chara, take your cousin to our home, and I shall return there as soon as I might. You are in charge. We must get that dress off her and into the wash as rapidly as we might. But keep her wrapped up warm. Shock is a funny thing.

“D’you hear that Orlet? You must do as Chara says, particularly now you have been struck on the head by that wind-torn branch. And Orlet dear, I know you are injured, and sitting down, and possibly even a bit befuddled from the blow to your head, but don’t forget this bustling wind is still blustering around. You still need to keep at least one hand on your skirts even so.”

“But I don’t understand any of this. What am I doing here on this street ...”

“THAT’S ENOUGH NOW, ORLET,” she said in a commanding voice which seemed to work. “Chara, I deem the day might well have come for some Explanations, ...” Only Chara heard and understood the very slight emphasis on the start of that word. “… so be sure to get her home quickly now, and I’ll try to hurry.”

“I will, Mama. But I must tell you, she bleeds THERE too.”

The gathering crowd retreated a little, all the men more so than the women. Some few of whom exchanged knowing looks. And some who thought that young Chara should possibly have been a little less loud.

“Why ... cousin? And … Orlet? That is not … this is not … I don’t under … oooh, my head hurts.”

“HUSH NOW, sweet cousin,” said Chara hurriedly, keeping up a loud chatter which drowned the other girl’s voice as she helped her to her feet and led her away. A confused Orlet leant heavily on the supporting arm as yet another wave of dizziness rushed through her head. One of the other women ran up to help. Chara looked up, saw who it was and relaxed, allowing the woman to help her with a small nod and a smile that came and went quicker than an eyeblink.

The trio staggered off round the corner.

The two Yodan armsmen who had observed it all noticed nothing particularly out of the ordinary, with the exception of the falling of a wind-torn branch and the unlucky accident of its arrival at or near ground level. They had kept themselves far enough away so as not to seem threatening and thus could only hear the raised voices and then only when they got louder.

These two had been stationed there for the past three months, ostensibly for ‘law and order’ and ‘public safety’ control. All the people in this locality were by now familiar to them; their looks, their sounds, their regular habits and indeed some of their smells.

That Orlet though was new, very new actually. She had only appeared to their knowledge in the last few days. She looked pale, looked confused, and suffered from frequent disabling headaches. Apparently, her father had been killed in the war and her mother was too ill or too busy, maybe both, to look after her, so she had been delivered to her aunt, arriving late one night when the two armsmen were away and snoring, and the night watch had been elsewhere on their rounds.

… … ...

Brid Brakkycatcher was a gnarled greying man, getting soon somewhere towards the upper end of middle age, some grey stubble around his chin and upper lip; he was far older than most of the Yodans who had been posted in the town as patrolmen. He nudged his patrol partner and muttered as they sauntered on on their rounds: “That Orlet was unlucky the branch fell on her and cut her head.”

“Yeah,” grinned Kalvo Skullcrusher with absolutely no display of any concern, “and I swear I could see up her skirts when that gust came and she was sitting there. It’s been a good day, so far!”

Brid just shook his head at his partner, trying hard not to let his lips curl in disdain. Yet another example of Kalvo’s crudity and barely-controlled appetites. The much younger man was usually jigging with suppressed energy, eyes flying everywhere – unless, that is, he was concentrating on those barely-controlled appetites.

“And she’s developing well, ain’t she? She could maybe lose a little of that childish chubbiness, gain a bit more of a figure and then she’ll be a REAL head-turner. Mind you, it’s not as if she isn’t already with those fulsome funbags.” Kalvo cupped two imaginary breasts on his own chest and drooled through his lascivious grin. “And we know now she’s old enough to breed!”

“Kalvo, you know you are really disgusting at times, don’t you?” Brid thought back to the several near-rapes that he had hauled Kalvo back from the brink of committing. And all the blatant fondlings he had had to break up. As a simple conscript with no seniority, he had no possibility to demand he was changed to another partner but he very fervently wished he could be parted from the younger man.

Brid’s stomach churned as Kalvo continued: “Wait a year an’ then I’ll be back and be real disgusting with ’er! I’ll make ’er bleed alright, an’ make ’er beg for more.”

“Huh!” exclaimed Brid somewhat worriedly as he heard a dangerous fervour in his partner’s tone. Regretfully, it was a familiar fervour. The two stopped when Brid grabbed the younger man’s tunic and roughly hauled him towards him. He was hoping that the internal anger he felt wasn’t shouting out at Kalvo from his eyes. “Kalvo, can you just for once concentrate on our job and not on your disgusting tastes?” He let the man go again, half-thrusting him away.

Brid then made a desperate attempt to change the subject; he sincerely doubted he could take much more of this male-centric unthinking crudity. “I doubt we shall be here in a year! Word is that our forces have suffered some losses downvalley and we shall all have to be transferred down there to bolster things. Recruits can be used to guard places like this, where the population are basically docile. These are our subject people, we won the battles, they do what we tell them. Good training, really.”

“Tcha! Ain’t gonna happen! Our REAL mission ’ere can’t be ’anded over to no-one else. We knows what the lad we’re searchin’ for looks like and would spot a new face immediately. The lad ain’t ’ere, but I’ll be called a dolt if I ever let that on to the officer. We’ve got a cushy number ’ere an’ I ain’t gonna mess that up anytime soon.”

Neither of the men noticed another listening closely to their conversation, and who scurried off quickly before they might turn round.

… … …

Frang sighed as he lifted the last of his hand of bundles into the craft. His to and froing across the foreshore had passed successfully unnoticed. He was just quietly stepping the mast through the hole in the forward thwart, again with a hammering heart. This task was probably potentially the most noisy of them all. But he would not be able to row with sufficient force to combat the current if the mast was still lashed down along the length.

Even as he thought that, the foot of the mast, which had just caught on the beading around the bottom hole, moved the required fraction sideways and the heavy wooden pole dropped into position. With a loud thump. And which caused a flurry of splashes.

He froze, keeping his eye on the watchmen’s lean-to.

He saw a head peer out from the flickering light.

… … …

“So,” said Eginet, “I am back. How is the patient? I cannot believe the ill-fortune that a broken branch would tumble just then. Has the healer I sent for arrived?”

“No healer just yet. And the patient yet dreams. Had another headache and went back once more to the state our cousin was in from the first moment our family expanded by one. We got home and managed to get the crush of us all through the door. Megmet assisted which I permitted since she has been with us on this project since the very beginning.”

“Thank you, Mistress Megmet yet once more,” said Eginet when Chara paused for breath. The older woman nodded acknowledgement to Eginet.

Chara started again: “I found it interesting that our cousin’s voice seemed so much stronger and thoughtful in the few words that were uttered. I deem that maybe the dream-like state she has been in from the start is now a thing of the past.”

“Yes, I picked up on that too. Which is why I thought that there would have to be some explanations now. We have gained a few bells, I expect. Mayhap we should discuss amongst us, you too Megmet, what we should do and say. By the way, Chara, saying what you did at the scene was a brilliant distraction.”

“I thought so at the time, but I deem it may have been a mistake.”

“How so?”

“That creepy Kalvo picked up on it and I’m sure has picqued his interest somehow.”

All the women shuddered as they thought of the Yodan.

It was Megmet who summed it up: “They are both arrogant Yodans, but at least that Brid appears to have some humanity. But that’s not to say he wouldn’t hesitate to use his weapons on an innocent citizen. As for that Kalvo, the sooner someone tests the sharpness of their blade on him, the better. He has killed a hand of citizens round here, almost at whim. Certainly with scant grounds. And as for his general attitude! And I’m sure the increase in the number of sexual attacks recently can be laid at his door. Many of the girls and women around here have shed many a tear.”

They all nodded.

“There would have been more if that Brid had not exercised some control.” Eginet added in a solemn warning though: “In one way, we could not blame Brid if he did skewer us, for are we not plotting against him and all the Yodan invaders that rule over us so arrogantly?”

“But he doesn’t know that, does he?”

… … …

“Remember that every single citizen is likely to be plotting against us. Trust none of them. And be ready to strike at any moment. They are looking for any given opportunity to rise up and murder us as soon as we turn our backs. Don’t be soft with them. Let them see that you mean business and won’t be trifled with.”

The assembled squad of armsmen all nodded their acceptance of their officer’s words.

“Now there are to be some changes from today. I have to reduce our street patrols. From now on each pair will consist of a fresh recruit and an experienced man. Some of you will be posted back to our home country, for regular patrols there, a few more will be sent to the front lines in Ferenis. A list is outside on the notice board. And an under officer is present to help those who cannot read.

“Brid and Kalvo see me afterwards, your special deployment is now at an end. The young Count can no longer be of concern to us, he has been out of circulation for so long – and is most probably dead anyway; this country is in such turmoil, no-one knows who would be able to rule it. We have killed nearly all candidates and are busy provoking arguments amongst all those who might still think they could do it. There can no longer be a figurehead person, a rallying point for them all. As we spread more rumours that the young Count is dead, even if he isn’t and comes back, few will believe it is really him so he will have to work harder at first to convince them. I deem that many of them would just be pleased to kill him themselves, such is the turmoil we have fostered. So we should be safe here for the foreseeable future.”

The briefing meeting continued with reminders about breaking up any congregation more than five people strong, about keeping street crime at a minimum and so on. It came to a natural end eventually whereupon the officer pulled Brid and Kalvo to one side, where they talked in low tones, ignoring the groans and cheers from their colleagues as they read or were told the contents of the allocation list outside.

“So are you sure the lad isn’t in that neighbourhood?”

Brid ran over in his mind his answer, for about the many hundredth time. There were so many factors that he really needed to weigh up, several of which were of no concern for this officer. It was Kalvo’s surreptitious dig in his back that tripped him into a decision.

“Absolutely sure! Unghhh ...” He broke off as a vindictive punch to his kidneys was not so easily ignored. The officer picked up on THAT one and sharpened his gaze on Kalvo whilst waving a hand to keep Brid talking. “… We were both present during the hunt for his father. Kalvo was inside at the end and reports that he personally cracked the father’s head open, and did the same to the screaming mother, if only to shut her up. I came in as I saw the terrified son look up at Kalvo. With one blow, again to the head, the lad was sent sprawling to come to a rest between his two dead and bleeding parents. Had he survived, that youngster could never look at Kalvo again without being scared witless. That has never happened so I am certain the lad is no more.”

“Hmmm. So what happened afterwards that the lad disappeared?”

“That whoreson ...” Kalvo started, but a gesture from the officer halted him there and then. He looked meaningfully at Brid again.

“The lad was lying there, blood running from nose and ears, brain matter spattered around. His limbs had no solidity about them. I was certain he was gone at the time. I still am. I deem the locals decided to move the body and hide it - after all the river is close by - to mess with us, to make us use otherwise unnecessary time and manpower just chasing bisken. We have not been hiding as we patrolled the streets there, and that lad just has not been seen.’Tis a threemonth now. And no-one has shown terror when looking at Kalvo here – well no-one other than those citizens he has killed as we go along.” Or the women he has terrorised.

“Thems deserved it. I ordered each to stop what they were doing, and when they didn’t, I done ’em didn’t I? When I clouts ’em, they stay clouted. Ain’t seen one arise afterwards.”

“Brid, please tell me more exactly what happened. I detect a certain amount of tension here,” demanded the officer with narrowed eyes. “And if, Kalvo, the young Count was indeed as you say ‘properly clouted’, then why do you imagine he could still be around? This patrol has mainly been kept up by YOUR insistence that it is possible he is still alive. And yet you have just claimed to have ‘clouted’ him and you also claimed no-one arises from one of your ‘cloutings’. You had better shut your mouth now until I am finished with Brid.”

Kalvo realised that maybe he hadn’t better utter anything now his boasting had got him into trouble. And he was sure he WAS in trouble. His course of action was blatantly clear. Annoying. But nevertheless clear. He clamped his lips shut.

Brid, however, was now stuck between two courses of action. Should he upset his patrol partner, no matter that he was a crude and nasty specimen? Or should he upset his Officer, who, he knew, knew there was a lot more going on that was far deeper than was at first apparent? He was on shaky ground here.

… … …

“I’m sure,” said Megmet, “that we have managed to fool them all regarding the young Count. Berm dragged another body across the floor to the window and dropped it out, leaving a trail across the floor and on the window ledge. And of course, a large splash on the cobbles down below. He and his brother Wallis then wrapped all the bodies in shrouds, as the servants would naturally do, which would also explain the bloodstains on their clothing. They stacked mounds of bodies down in the cellar, making sure that none was small enough to be seen as a yet-to-mature man. Of course the Yodans did check through that pile and all were too heavy for the one they were searching for.”

“Indeed,” agreed Eginet, “and we made sure that Wallis was in the team the Yodans forced to stack all those bodies onto the wagon and then be taken to the mass pyre. They watched carefully every step of the way and stayed until the fires had died down. And,” she laughed grimly, “they STILL thought that the lad could have survived the initial attack, had then crawled across to the window, fallen out onto the cobbles, left a bloody mess there and then crawled away from that spot! We have managed to have them searching high and low for months now!”

They sat there and considered all the various stupidities. They took grim pleasure in hoodwinking their overlords.

It was Chara that brought them all back to their next secret subject. “So what are we going to do about this Orlet problem that we have so freshly uncovered? How,” she said with a bit of a grin, “are we going to knock this problem on the head?”

… … …

After a good hand of moments of frozen fear, the head at the guard hut had withdrawn back into the comparative warmth. But Frang himself remained motionless for another hand of moments, straining every muscle to detect any sign of a stealthy approach. He finally decided it was time to get on with it. He stepped gingerly back onto the foreshore, crossed it as swiftly as he could and scrambled as gently as possible up the sandy bank to his next ‘target’.

Frang cursed – but only to himself. The breeze had stiffened which would make it difficult to silently dig up what he next needed; the sail he had buried on an earlier evening under the loose sand, hoping it would remain hidden until he returned for it. He needed now to retrieve it and then carry it silently across to the boat. The breeze wouldn’t help that either. He carefully moved the marking stones from the corners of his burial plot, brushed off the covering sand which was barely two thumbs deep, and rolled up the stiff sail, wincing with every crickle and crackle. When he hoisted it up onto his shoulder, he hoped that the sudden increase in noise was just because his ear was so much nearer.

He carried it over the lip of the dune and slipped/slid his way back to the foreshore, conscious that he was already nearly a bell behind his self-imposed schedule. He was also conscious that the marks of his passage would be glaringly obvious once daylight broke, but he deemed he should be away by then leaving no trace in the water of his course. The Yodans had imposed strict restrictions on the use of rivercraft and it had taken him a long time to carry all the parts of the boat to this remote spot, and several more evenings to rebuild it in secret in a sort of cave between the rocks of a rare outcropping and whose mouth he had kept covered.

How he managed to keep the next oath that sprang to his lips quiet, he would never ever know; he was less than a third of the way to the boat when his guide candle guttered out. The darkness clamped down once more. He now had but scant moments left before the Veil arose to add its beauty to this scene. He needed to be away by then.

… … …

The officer’s eyes fell on Brid which made Brid feel he had better answer promptly. One quick mental tussle more and then the decision was made.

“I must confess that the citizens around our patrol area all fear Kalvo here. Yes he did warn some of them to stop what could have been nefarious activities but I would have given them time to react to my orders before landing my blows. And frankly, I have had to frequently haul him off several of the local girls whom he seems to think are his to fiddle with as and when he wants. I doubt there is a citizen who would not gladly sink a knife into him. Maybe there are some swords still around, well hidden, but everyone would be happy to see some sharp metal inserted somewhere inside him. Frankly, I have to spend half our patrol time making sure no-one is going to attack us, particularly him.”

“Thank you, Brid. I have received reports from elsewhere to that effect and also that you BOTH know the elusive young Count is dead and yet you both continue with the fiction that you have to keep an eye out for him. You are wasting our time, money and credibility. Your mission is cancelled as of now.”

He turned then to address the younger man: “Kalvo, your zeal for killing is required at the front, so I am preparing orders for your transfer there effective immediately. You have two bells to go and gather your belongings and report back here. Go now.”

Kalvo glared at Brid as he strode towards the door. Brid made to follow him but the officer signalled him back.

… … …

Frang was sweating for the night had not been overly cool and the effort he had expended rowing across the Sirrel to lay up on the Pakmal side had warmed him enormously. He needed the distant lights of Faralan to steer a straight course for the final hundred of strides. He had scouted out his place where he would lay up in the days prior, having been checked for a valid fishing licence on each occasion.

The rapidly lightening sky told him that he had only just managed to complete the first leg of his journey in safety and it was time to arrange all his loads properly and then snooze through the bulk of the morning. The warmth of the day, even though only just in the third month of the year, would ensure that he did not sleep all through it. He was actually just a little downriver from where he had started, but he had foreseen this. He could pull on the trees and bushes to bury his craft from easy sight and could there begin to hang the sail without observation.

He would need to rely on the sights rather than lights of Faralan to help him make his way upstream when he set out on his quest this afternoon. Yodan watchships were few and far between on the Sirrel between Pakmal and Faralmark, and his information suggested that beyond the level of Pakmal Town there were no more. But still, he must assume that any late afternoon or early evening sightings would be examined more closely. He had chosen Pakmali colours deliberately and had set up his craft to resemble a simple fisherman from that nation. Which was why he was going to emerge into plain sight from that side of the river. He couldn’t resist a glance at the secret panel behind which he had stashed those oh so important documents to be handed over personally to his ‘target’.

… … …

“Take Marsel under your wing, show him about your patrol area, introduce him to your citizens and try to undo some of the ruffled feelings Kalvo has caused. The last thing we need right now is any form of citizen’s revolt. But before you begin, I need the two of you to go and investigate what would appear to be the site of a small boat launching in the dark of last night ...”

Brid nodded and went to find his new partner. But first he sat at a small table in the entrance hall and made the necessary notes in his notebook, lest he forget some instruction or other. He also made a mental note that his scratchstone would soon need replacing. He idly wondered if he could get his hands on any of those new ‘reedlet’ things he had heard about recently, sent up to Yod by their agents downstream. He could always find a fresh scratchstone of course, but they were clumsy and not overly easy to use as a writing tool.

He rose and strode across to the assembly room. “Recruit Marsel? Report to me! On the double!”

Brid watched carefully as a nervous and yet determined young man turned and headed his way, walking/running as he came. Brid’s stomach dropped as the lad got nearer. His boyish looks would play some havoc with many of the young girls he would soon meet. Maybe the bright splash of spots across his face would help keep some of them off.

… … …

Kalvo was in his rented room, throwing his clothes and his few treasures into his two kitbags. He was angrily trying to formulate some plan to pay back that Brid for his disloyalty. It never crossed his mind that his own behaviour had been the root cause of his transfer. Likewise, it never even occurred to him that the officers might have put them under observation. He was happy to convict his former partner on the slenderest of evidence.

He went over to a corner of his room and looked furtively around before raising one of the floorboards. His breath shortened and his stomach tightened. He tried, briefly, but couldn’t resist opening the lid of the box. His cheeks reddened and his fingers shook. Other physical effects were taking place lower down as he studied his collection of mementoes and souvenirs. Each person he had killed had contributed at least one item, one trinket to his treasured collection.

As had each young girl he had importuned. The killings and the gropings mingled in his head and gave him a feverish pleasure.

His fingers played with one particular ring, obviously expensive. He knew exactly from whom he had taken it. That young Count’s mother. He had some more of her jewellery in here as well. He had the greatest regrets about dispatching that one – but only because, in his fantasies, he had used her as his personal sex toy as and when he wanted. She had been quite the looker. It never occurred to him that his feelings for her had caused an excess of anger as he swung his heavy weapon at the young son.

His right hand reached down to help relieve the pressure he felt. He did not last long. In the aftermath, his self-disgust made him hurriedly pack up his treasure box and stow it in the middle of his larger kitbag, stuffing spare clothes on top of it. He knew he didn’t want it to fall out accidentally once he had slung the bag over his shoulder.

… … …

“I think we should actually have everyone involved here, maybe not Wallis and Berm, that would rouse suspicion. If I read the signs correctly, when our patient comes around, she will be lucid and full of questions. And probably very scared. I daresay that having a hand of caring women around will be soothing.

“The disadvantage of such an approach is that we do not know how long it shall be before the poor dear actually opens her eyes once more.”

Chara got to her feet. “I shall fetch the other two women then.”

Eginet and Megmet looked at each other, held the gaze for a while and then nodded. “Very well, dear. Thank you.”

Chara smiled at them and left. There was a short silence, broken by Eginet: “What think you? Should we strip Orlet down?”

“Certainly not down to the skin.”

“No, I meant only the … slight additions.”

“There are two ways to think of it. Maybe Orlet would prefer to come back to us unburdened. But then again, maybe she needs to get used to the feel. ’Twould help her understand, mayhap, the lengths we need to go to to keep her alive.”

“Aye, there is that. ’Tis the question I have asked myself ever since this started. We know not fully the origins of the poor child, so we cannot know how to proceed. We must needs talk with her, but I know not how to fashion that talk in a caring and yet fruitful way. I do so hope that she can cope with whatever shocks she is about to get.”

And so it was that the ‘welcoming committee’ were sat around waiting for signs of awareness from the supine patient.

… … …

“This, Marsel, is a resident of this part of the town. His name is Berm but he is a simpleton. We have to speak loudly and slowly to him, clap him on the shoulders sometimes. He likes sometimes to shake hands when we part. It seems to please him to feel wanted in a way. Keep on his good side, and your life as a patrolman round here will be so much easier.”

Berm just looked from one to the other, a grin on his face below his permanently furrowed brow. His eyes were wide and innocent. And Marsel noticed with little of the normal glimmers of intelligence.

Marsel stretched his hand out to shake Berm’s hand, but quickly withdrew at a shake of the head from Brid, accompanied by a frown.

“Only when we part, and only with Berm or his brother who is called Wallis. Remember that we are the conquerors here and that you are protected since they know the reprisals will be terrible if any of us are harmed. So you act properly here. They are not our equals. We are their conquerors and they must never forget it. If you start shaking the hands of everyone around, they will start to believe they are equal or even above us. These two brothers appear to need to feel welcome in this area, in all the happenings that go on around here.”

Marsel nodded as he struggled to balance all the factors in his mind. He paid only scant attention to the somewhat stilted conversation that Brid was having with Berm. Brid at one point slapped his hand on the man’s shoulder, which brought a strange grin onto the man’s face. It was as Brid said, the man was pleased to feel included and was thus pleased with the contact. Marsel listened desultorily as the two men spoke of local matters, Berm’s remarks being slow and childish it seemed. Marsel paid more attention once Brid grabbed Berm’s hand and pumped it once only. The two turned on their heels and Brid led them across the lane to a corner on the junction. Marsel noted that the man they had just left turned round a couple of times, as if trying to decide what to do.

“Now this is really the centre of our patrol area, see how the five roads, lanes and alleys spread out from here. This wider one leads down to the river, reaching it about a hundred strides, maybe a hundred and a half, from where we investigated those strange marks on the dunes and the foreshore. Down that one over there ...”

… … …

Kalvo struggled down the narrow staircase from his rooms as the two bulky kitbags hampered his passage in the confined space. He opened the door to the street and deposited one kitbag on the cobbles outside the door. He reached back in and got his second one. He glanced around and saw only familiar people about. He glanced up once more to his window high up there under the gable eaves. He had not really liked this billet and was glad to be leaving.

But that thought made him frown again. How was he going to get back at Brid in the limited time he had left before he was posted away?

He watched Wallis, one of the two simpleton brothers, lumber across the end of the lane he was in. Those two men were immensely strong he knew, but only physically, certainly not mentally; their strength was natural since they both were possessed of large bodies that physical work had kept fit. Berm worked in the old Count’s house as the storeman whilst his brother was a loadhand down at the docks.

Now if only he could get the two of them angry at Brid, maybe they would beat him up. How shall I contrive that? Let me see…

… … …

Frang struggled with his decision. He stared out from the treeline for the umpteenth time. An earlier check had shown no Yodan watchcraft on the river, but should he stay in his hiding place for now, or should he set out on his journey whilst there would still be some light later, to make it easier?

A movement out of the corner of his right eye drew his attention. He focussed his sight there. About half a mark away downriver, two small boats had put out, seemingly to get into position to use the dusk period for fishing. The sails told him they were Pakmali craft.

He watched closely as the Yodan guardship stationed down there changed course to intercept them. He made his decision.

He quickly retraced his steps to his boat, half-raised the sail designed to make him look Pakmali, so that it would be up quicker when he reached the full flood of the river. He cast off and started pulling on the trees and bushes to return to the wide main stream.

A quarter of a bell saw him emerge into full view of anyone afloat and any keen eyes across the river in Faralan. He quickly raised the sail and adjusted his course accordingly, heading away from the watchboat downriver. As he had suspected, those on that ship were now busy with the other two fishers, too busy to try and chase him down against the current. He made good headway upstream with a lightened heart, which was also further lightened as he saw no less than three other Pakmali sails pull out into the Sirrel in preparation for the evening’s catch. All turned upstream.

… … ...

“Well young Chara, how is your cousin Orlet? I observed her being struck by that tree branch which seemed to knock some sense out of her?”

“Master Brid. I’m sorry,” replied a nervous Chara, “you startled me.” Brid noticed she looked around and seemed less twitchy when she saw Marsel.

“This is Marsel, who shall be working with me now. Kalvo has been posted elsewhere where they feel his talents are better suited.”

Chara bobbed a curtsey: “Master Marsel.” Both the patrolmen were surprised at the big smile that spread across the girl’s face, transforming her into a very pretty young woman suddenly. But ’twas only fleeting. And they received no clue as to why it had appeared. Brid suspected that Marsel’s unconscious charm had been a large contributory factor. It had also occurred to him that Kalvo’s absence might have also brought some pleasure, but surely not THAT much?

“If you don’t mind Masters, I see Wallis beckoning me.” She bobbed another curtsey and ran off up the lane they had just come down.

Brid led Marsel down to the riverfront. They had been nearly a bell walking round the patrol area already, Brid had designed it so that this area was the last. He showed the new man all that was down there, pointing out what he considered to be relevant buildings and lanes. So and so lived there, Thingy ran her shop there, and so on.

After a further quarter bell, their gazes swept over the river. They could see a larger craft flying the Yodan flag had closed with two smaller boats, each with Pakmali sails.

“And look there, upriver from the three, there is another Pakmali fisherman attempting to catch the evening swimmers. He is obviously setting out upstream first so he can drift downstream back home on the current when it darkens.”

“I see no houses over there,” said Marsel. “Do you know how far away it is to that opposite bank?”

“I have been told that the river is two or so marks wide at this point, maybe a little more.”

“So where are the houses that that guy has come from?”

“I have also been told that many of the Pakmalis live in crude huts in the marshes of the water margins, waiting for the fish to run. You can often see their evening fires twinkling away down on those river margins. Then, when the fishing is plentiful on their chosen stretch, they load their boats until they are almost sinking and rush down to the main village which is just beyond the bend behind the trio of boats we watched just now.”

“Ah! I thank you. Oh look! There are some more fishers setting out upstream from the guy we just watched.”

“Yes. It is a fascinating sight, is it not?” His voice dropped. “The first few dozen times you see it,” continued Brid with a slightly bitter tone. Brighter, he said: “Come lad. Let us get back to the barracks to report on that investigation of the dunes we did earlier.”

… … …

“OW! I have such a headache!”

“There there, I shall give you something for that in a little while, but you must drink this first. You have had very little sustenance recently and shall need to get your strength up. We are hoping that your memory shall return soon so we can tell you what you need to know. All of what you need to know.”

“I have some memories, but they are not coming easily. And when I try to concentrate, the headaches get worse somehow.”

“Now we know that the name we have given you is not accurate, but we had to choose one else suspicions would have been aroused.”

“Suspicions? No wait … names. Ummm … I deem I need more information. Why am I here? Actually, where am I? I don’t understand what is going on. Is it always so dark in here? Or is it dark outside too? Why am I so fixed on ‘dark’?”

Eginet patiently began, one hand raised to stem the tide of questions: “Let me start by saying that it is a pleasure to talk rationally to you. For some while now we have been looking after you and you couldn’t speak, you seemed to be here somehow yet without being aware. You moved around as if in a permanent dream. So let me start by giving you some basic background.

“I deem you should maybe just listen for now, since I – no, since ALL of us - believe that we shall progress faster if we are not interrupted. Many of the questions you shall have may well be answered by later revelations. I expect we shall be explaining for the rest of this evening and probably well into the night. We’ll have to see how it goes.

“For a starter we are in the country, the nation, known as Upper Fanir. Which is in the Great Valley of Alaesia. Does any of this sound familiar? Maybe Anmar?”

A shake of the head encouraged Eginet to continue: “There are a couple of dozen countries in the Great Valley, another of which is named Yod. Yod is at war with us. Actually Yod is at war with nearly all the other countries, certainly those downvalley from here. Yod invaded Upper Fanir with no warning and regretfully they made short work of our immediately available forces. We live under the yoke of the conquering Yodan forces, and they are not gentle with us. They deliberately set about killing off anyone who might be able to become a leader or a focus of any resistance. If any community injures or attacks even one of their patrolmen, they take savage reprisals on that community. Many have died that way too.

“So anything untoward has had to be hidden from them. If they are uncertain of anything, anything at all, then they just kill it or wipe it away. Your circumstances are so wildly different to anything they have experienced that we deem you are in severe danger. So for your very safety we have disguised you, given you a different name and in that way hidden you in plain sight. We ...”

… … …

“Ah, Berm! Good to see you, and this time you are with your brother Wallis. As it happens, I have a task for the two of you!” said Kalvo in a voice that sounded strange to all who heard it. They had never heard Kalvo actually ASK for anything. Normally he just told them or demanded something. “Let’s go over here, away from young Chara, Mistress Megmet and the rest of those girls and women.”

The trio of men moved over to an alleymouth where Kalvo gratefully let his two burdens down to the ground. Wallis glanced round, saw the women now walking in their direction and, with a warning nod towards the women, nudged Kalvo more fully into the alley, which in turn nudged his brother deeper too.

“Now listen well, you two. This is what I want you to do. That Brid, he has denounced you all to the authorities. What you should do is this ...”

… … …

“We found a small cave type thing there, between the ‘walls’ if you like of a rocky outcropping. The roof was only of compressed sand, but nevertheless it was plain that a boat had been constructed there. It must have taken at least a week to smuggle in all the parts and the tools and so on. It would have had to be done under cover of darkness. This was well planned. Footprints suggest this was a man, but not a large one. Other ...”

“Were there any indications as to who it might have been?”

“None, I’m afraid. No clues further. The perpetrator obviously dragged the boat to the water then repeatedly went back for sacks which he then loaded aboard. We know that from indentations in the sand inside the cave area. These indentations indicate that there was a mast too. Above, behind the first ridge of the dunes, we found an area of disturbed sand which was a puzzle at first, but it suddenly came to me that he had probably buried a sail there to be out of sight during the working on the boat.”

“And no-one noticed anything?”

“A watch hut a little further down the foreshore claimed that they had investigated a sound in the middle of the night, but had found nothing. Footprints, or rather the lack of them, would indicate they are lying.”

“Hmmm. They shall regret that!”

“We found a curious cairn of stones with a burnt out candle in it which I confess stumped me for an explanation. But young Marsel here realised that the man needed to find the boat in the dark, so he lit a sheltered candle to enable him to find his way to and from the craft.”

“Good thinking!” The officer sent his praise to Marsel.

“We have no way of knowing in which direction he departed, nor what was his cargo. But only one set of footprints abounded there, so I am fairly certain the cargo was not human.”

“Any missing men from your patrol area? Women even?”

“None that I noticed. Maybe Kalvo would have done, but I doubt it – he’s only really interested in grabbing women and girls in an inappropriate manner.”

“Talking of whom – where is he? He should have been here a bell ago. I assumed he was with you on this investigation of the sandy foreshore.”

“Nope. Not with us. I haven’t seen him since you sent him to pack. And I have been keeping an eye out too, as I know he’s a vindictive little bastard. I also know he will be blaming me for his so-called ‘easy job’ being brought to an end.”

“Hmmm. You had better check whether he packed his things, otherwise I shall have to post him as a deserter.”

Brid sighed, but inwardly – it wouldn’t do to push his luck with this officer. “Very well. Marsel, come on, we have some more work to do before we can retire for the evening.”

… … …

Frang waved to the other boat as he passed. The other was shooting down on the current, the hull so deep in the water that Frang could see at least twenty fish lying on the top of a great pile.

“Bit late, ain’tcha?” called the fisherman.

“Gonna overnight up the river apace. Try for the morning run.”

“Use my camp place – fourth inlet! You should just have time.”

Both men raised hands because they were already too far apart to be heard easily.

Frang sighed. How nice it was to deal with people who were so trusting of strangers. And not to have to be always checking over your shoulder. And not to have to really watch your words or sneak peeks to see if anyone might be listening.

He was pleased with his progress. He guesstimated himself to be at least halfway to the Pakmal border with Zebrin. Which meant he would be about one third of the way to his destination.

The setting sun dropped behind a taller piece of cliff and Frang was surprised at how quickly the temperature dropped. This was a forcible reminder that it was still quite early in the year. He vaguely wondered what had happened back in Upper Fanir. Surely they would have seen the sand scrapes he had left behind by now? He hoped that the story he had concocted with his mother and brother would keep any investigations quiet for a bit. He lost himself for a while in the gathering gloom; that was the gathering gloom of both his reminiscences of life at home and of the actual rapidly falling twilight.

He sailed on, automatically choosing the weakest counter-current as he went. He was so pleased with his progress that he determined to keep going even after the full darkness fell.

… … …

Orlet blew out her cheeks as she looked round at the faces in the room with her. It had been agreed early on that she would be called Orlet at all times - Mistress Orlet. The more they all practiced doing so, the more usual it would feel. She herself needed to get used to being someone named ‘Orlet’.

“Very well! I now understand much that was confusing to me as my brain started working again. And I thank you all for saving me from possible harm from the Yodans. For the moment, and until I have gathered enough information for myself, I shall continue with your deception. Orlet, I shall become.”

“Excellent! These ladies can go now. You are not quite ready for a full and complete explanation of everything, as that would involve an understanding of what has happened here in Upper Fanir in the months since Yod invaded us. Soon, we all promise.”

There was a lot of eye-speak of which Orlet was totally unaware.

Eginet continued: “Now, I must ask you once again, without wishing to annoy you, are you really certain that you wish to continue to be ‘Orlet’? We have already had to show you outside the door to allay any suspicions, so our neighbours and friends have met you as her. ’Twould be awkward to have to go back on our story. If not downright suspicious.

“To become Orlet, to be my overworked sister’s daughter, you are going to have to learn much, and you are going to have to learn it quickly. Family roots and trees are just a start. ’Twill not be light work. If you say yes, then there can be no going back. Is that clear? You shall be making an oath to us all here that you shall continue to be the best Orlet there can be!”

“Yes, I shall strive always to be the best ‘Orlet’ I can be, so long as this disguise, this deception is necessary.”

“Then confirm it by swearing a binding oath to that effect,” Eginet demanded in a stern voice.

… … …

By the time Brid and Marsel had reached the billet where Kalvo had been, by the time they had climbed the stairs and seen the total lack of possessions there, by the time they had descended again and emerged onto the cobbles, the light was fading fast. They went back towards the barracks, Brid demonstrably inspecting the ground as closely as he, they, could. On the way, the mouth of one alleyway was jammed by the two bodies of Berm and Wallis, who seemed to be competing to be the first to exit. Behind them, a quite large group of women could be seen.

Brid growled: “More than five people?”

Berm smiled ingratiatingly. “Two women going one way, four coming the other. Accidentally six. All over once they have passed.”

“And you two?”

“We’re racing to see who can be the first out of here.”

Brid cast a few keen glances and looks at the way the people were grouped. Some of the women had obviously been carrying burdens of some sort for he could see the shadows on the ground. He didn’t want to linger long with his gaze lest they all thought he was as bad as Kalvo, staring at womenfolk’s legs.

He addressed the brothers. “Do either of you know where I can find Kalvo? He has gone missing and may be hiding out because he had a disagreement with our officer.” Brid’s voice seemed harsh to Marsel but the lad was not confident enough to say anything at that moment to his guide and mentor, to query such little details. He looked around at the streets other than the alley.

The two brothers wedged into the narrow alley’s mouth both shook their heads at the same time. They would have shrugged their shoulders had there been space to do so. Berm wriggled his shoulders slightly and, in his simpleton’s way, just reached out and clapped Brid on the shoulder. His brother frowned at him as he wriggled his shoulders back into the flesh jam which now once again blocked the mouth of the alleyway. Marsel smiled as he realised that neither brother would take advantage of the patrolmen’s presence to try to win their childish race.

“Do you have any questions you can think of, Marsel?”

The lad pondered but briefly: “Is there any other way he could have gone?”

Brid looked Marsel’s question in the direction of the two. The brothers did their not-exactly-a-shrug once again, looking from Brid to Marsel and back.

Brid went on to explain their silent but eloquent answer: “This place is a labrink, Marsel. Passages, back alleys, connecting doors and gates. He could have started here and come out at the docks without being seen on the street, or indeed on any street as it happens. It would take forever to interview everyone who just might have caught a glimpse on any route that he just might have taken.”

The two simple brothers nodded again in both agreement as well as in time. All four men looked at each other. There was nothing more to say. Berm just managed to offer a hand for Brid to shake as the two patrolmen went on their way.

Brid’s eyes however were noticeably, at least to Marsel, peering everywhere whilst they made their way along the route back to the barracks. Not even breaking their search when Marsel asked: “What is a labrink, if it pleases?”

Without turning his head to his young colleague, Brid answered: “Labris live in … nests, I suppose you would say … in which their tunnels twist and turn, double back on themselves, dive suddenly downwards, sometimes climb steeply upwards, all the while criss-crossing other tunnels and with frequent twig-lined chambers dotted plentifully around. All in all, ’tis very confusing therein. The Maker only knows how the individuals know where they are. What a rink is, I confess I have no clue; but long ago, someone somewhere added a ‘rink’ to the name of one of the animals they were studying. So we get ‘Labrink’.”

“I have never heard that word before. I learn much from you every bell.” He hurried to add: “Gratefully.”

Still continuing his inspection as they went, Brid shrugged: “Mayhap ’tis but a Yodan word, not a word generally found in Valleyspeak.” He made it obvious he was not particularly interested in the topic.

They reached the barracks just after darkness fell where it all seemed unusually agitated as they went into the offices. They kept clear of all the bustle and were told by the adjutant to take a seat. Nevertheless they could get a feel for what was going on. The strongest rumour seemed to be that even more were to be shipped downvalley at the fourth bell in the morning.

They had to wait around for at least a quarter of a bell before the officer had time to call them in. Brid’s report was staccato and very much to the point: “Nothing there in his room. All belongings packed, including his kitbag or bags. His room was empty of everything except a bed, a table, a chair and dust and splinters.

“No sign of him on the street. None of our citizens know where he might be. None offered anything at all, not even saying which route he took. Not one claimed to have seen him.

“No sign of his bags, his weapons, his clothes even.

“Unfortunately only a limited amount could be studied as the light was waning fast. But I saw no blood stains nor splashes. No scratches on walls. Nothing out of the ordinary. I deem he has gone to ground. Which I confess makes me uncomfortable. He is not the most stable of men.”

“Thank you. Would you like to sleep in the barracks tonight even though patrolmen are usually billeted on the citizens they are protecting?”

“I am not THAT scared of him. I shall just have to sleep with one eye open.”

… … …

Frang wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him now. So he swore loudly, at length and most filthily. He was furious with himself. He just had not considered all the many difficulties in coming safely to shore whilst in the middle of the dark of the night. He had dropped the sail as soon as the wind failed when the sun went. Which made his rowing position extremely awkward. Nevertheless, at first he made good way in the silver of the crepuscular period, but the darkness gathered even as he was scanning for a suitable landing. Suddenly, he realised he could not make out details on the shoreline. A few isolated campfires twinkled into existence out across there, on the other side of the water. But none here on the Faralmark side.

He was feverishly making and discarding plans for getting out of his predicament. All the while rowing hard to keep abreast of the solitary campfire he could now see, way over there. Scared of collision with bars and banks and so on, he was edging slowly across the flow to close on the unseen, but knowingly uneven, shoreline.

Suddenly, he was shocked to his core.

“You can stop rowing now, I have you and your boat fast!”

The long string of profanity was abruptly cut off. To be replaced with a question. Or two. Or three. “Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you catch me?”

“Oggar is my name. I found you because your tirade woke me up from a snooze and your voice told me where you were. And I know the waters round here intimately, having fished them for the past thirty odd years. I am settled in for the night with no fire. I do of course spend my entire life standing in a strong river current, naked down to my waist, just waiting for relatively incompetent watergoers to row up to me and not thank me for rescuing them.”

“Master Oggar, I do now sincerely thank you; most fulsomely.

“I was, I hoped, going gently sidewards, gradually approaching the bank but I confess I was a little apprehensive as I could not be sure I wouldn’t crash into bars or sandspits or a whirlpool or whatever. I was rowing against the current of course, so my forward motion was not so great. I could, I gambled, afford a minor bump or two.”

Even as they were talking, they were securing Frang’s craft to positions that Oggar assured him were safe. It was too dark for Frang to see Oggar’s features, but had he been able to do so, he would have been surprised at the approval that would have been evident. Frang had set about double-checking for himself, as far as conditions permitted. But something in Oggar’s voice conveyed more warmth and even perhaps a measure of respect than had been present earlier.

“What is your errand that you must take such risks? For you yourself admitted to gambling with your craft, its contents and possibly even your life.”

A sudden caution hit home then for Frang. He thought rapidly. Oggar could be a Yodan just trying to lull him into an indiscretion. ’Twould be better to continue the denial of his origins back in Upper Fanir.

“We Pakmali fishers know all our most productive fishing grounds lining our bank of the river. I was curious enough to wonder what the fishing grounds are like over here on the Faralmark bank. I had a good catch last week, so I decided to try over here this evening. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I tried to make just a bit too much upriver before looking for an overnight refuge. I got my timing wrong. Which was why I was cursing so much and so fluently. The dangers were very apparent to me.”

“Well I must say that you did the best anyone could have done in those circumstances. Just remember in future to err on the side of caution.”

“That I shall, Master Oggar, that I shall. The lesson has been learnt well.”

“And talking of sides, you are, I know, aware that we are on the Faralmark side of the Sirrel but perchance you are not certain just how far upriver you are. We are almost exactly opposite where the man-made channel brings the waters back to the Sirrel after passing through your capital.”

“I thank you yet again. I have indeed come further than I thought I would, or even could.”

“I too have learnt something,” said Oggar a little hesitantly, which change of tone made Frang pay sharper attention. “And that is that I should have attached my strikestone to a lanyard, for I have dropped it somewhere here in the river. So it might be said that I rescued you with a small degree of selfishness. Assuming, that is, that you DO have a strikestone. ’Twill make our nights so much more comfortable if we each have a fire.”

Frang laughed and it was not long before two fires were crackling merrily; that of Oggar having been already built on a spit upon which it was just too narrow for two men to reside in comfort.

The men talked long into the night, but gazed silently in awe as eventually both moonrise and Veilrise made it almost light enough for Frang to have continued upriver.

… … …

Orlet was obviously deep in thought for a fair while. Uncharitable folk might well have suggested she had slipped back into her dream-like state. It was a shock when she suddenly announced: “But I shall swear the oath you have demanded on one condition, and one condition only. This is NOT negotiable.”

“And what is that? What is your condition?” demanded Eginet fiercely.

“That each and everyone else who is aware of this deception, aware of the truths behind all that we do, first swears an oath to never, ever reveal exactly what has gone on here to anyone else at all outside of this room. This shall remain a secret until such time as I choose to reveal the details, whereupon all those oathsworn shall be freed from their word.”

Everyone in the room, Eginet, Megmet, the other two women and Chara, all exchanged almost shocked glances at the tone of command that Orlet had so convincingly and effortlessly summoned. This was a very new Orlet before them.

It was Chara who broke the immediate silence: “I for one am fully willing to do so, but I deem we need to include some others as well. Do we need to bring them in here as you said ‘outside of this room’ and the others are as yet without?”

All the women thought about that and each indicated that they would be prepared to take that oath and to include the others that Chara had hinted at.

“Very well,” stated Orlet in that new commanding tone, “go fetch these others now!” With which she swung on her heel and sat with a thump on what had been used as her bed, staring round determinedly at each one gathered there.

All the women stared back at her sitting there, her skirts bunched underneath her bottom and lost somehow in the tangle of the bedsheet, whilst thinking they had witnessed the birth of someone, or something, else. A creature of which they had previously had no inkling.

All except one of them, whose eyes narrowed as a fierce elation rose inside her, threatening to blur her vision with tears of joy.

Had her thoughts been audible, many would have been surprised at the just two simple words that welled up inside Eginet: “At last!”

Chara once again made an important remark: “One certainly, maybe two, might be working right now. Would it be alright if they attended a separate oath swearing here in this room later?”

“Very well, ‘cousin’. You all swear now, the others later and only then shall I swear my own oath.”

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