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.”

---

Things begin to fall into place

---

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 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.

---

A fresh dawn brought another day. High scudding clouds were passing, driven by a brisk breeze. The air was yet cold after the night.

… … …

Orlet’s heart sank as she began to understand the full extent of everything she was going to have to do. These people with whom she would now have to spend her life, no matter how different it might be from that which she knew previously, were very serious.

She could die if she was found out.

And here in this family, in this town, in this nation, in this very day and age, she couldn’t even get dressed without help!

She would have to rely on her inner strength, on the pride she could garner from her family history.

And shove to the back of her mind questions like: Where am I? How did I get here? What are the rules of behaviour here? What…

“Now, now, Orlet. No daydreaming. You’ve only just risen from your bed. And we haven’t really begun to scratch the surface of what we are going to have to do. Of course, your health has priority, but we must also assess what you must learn in order to become invisible in the role we have all agreed.

“Let us start with a light breakfast.”

… … ...

Brid woke on that next morning feeling fully refreshed. He had not been attacked in his sleep by the missing Kalvo, about which he had been certain before his head had hit the pillow. He went to do his ablutions and returned to his little mansard room, his home for these past few months; he looked around, studying it.

“Today, possibly - tomorrow, probably – day after, mayhap,” he thought as he started packing up his belongings into his kitbags. He left out a change of clothes for today, just in case, and another for the morning. His washkit was left neatly to hand. Today was the day the bedclothes were usually changed so he made the bed with a military precision and left the fresh bedsheet on the top.

Dressed, groomed and mentally prepared, Brid strapped on his sword, picked up his other weapons, his notebook and writing implements, picked up his helmet last of all. He stiffened his back, sucked his stomach in and puffed his chest out. Let the day begin. He marched down the stairs.

He turned right out of his door and headed for the fiveway junction at the centre of his patrol area. He was due to meet Marsel there in a hand of moments.

He had barely gone ten strides when ‘his’ first local appeared. Wallis shuffled down the street towards him, muttering away as was his wont. The two men nodded as they acknowledged each other. As they crossed, Wallis muttered something that sounded to Brid like “Job one”, so Brid simply replied: “Enjoy it then.” They passed a stride apart. Brid vaguely wondered just how many jobs Wallis had.

“Good morn, Brid,” called Marsel as soon as his senior colleague came into sight.

… … …

“Good freshness, young Frang,” called Oggar from where he was fetching a camp-pan of water from the river.

“Errrrm. Good morn to you, Oggar,” replied a puzzled Frang who had been creeping about for the past quarter, maybe even half, bell since the skies had lightened; he had not wanted to wake the older man. After their chats last night, Frang knew he could not be so rude as to depart without taking his leave. But he had rolled up his blanket and stowed it aboard already.

“Oh aye,” laughed Oggar. “’Tis our way here in Faralmark of starting the day. We are wishing one or more things: for example, that our correspondent shakes off the glooms of the night, enjoys the start of yet another day, does not have a boring existence, finds some novelty in what they are about to do, gets a whiff of some fresh flowers, or a freshet of cooling rain after a hot night and so on and so on and so on.”

“I like it,” said Frang. “Good freshness,” he practised, moving his lips and mouth as though tasting the words.

Frang had enjoyed the last evening, enjoyed being able to actually relax with another human and speak his heart. His suspicions had early on been suppressed and the two men struck up a firm friendship. Frang told him the entire story and actually took a little pride from Oggar’s whistles of amazement, and his quite frequent congratulations.

Oggar also gave him some valuable information and even suggested a place in which to rest up for the following night that would be both safe and deserted. As far as he was aware, only four people knew about it, and the other three had left to take some goods upstream.

“… and when you get to Bibek, I know just the place you can moor your craft and leave it safe whilst you complete your mission on foot. As you approach Bibek, which will be on your right being as how ’tis a Left Bank town, you will see at the far end of the town the influx of another large river, which is the Faral. As soon as you can see up that, keep a look out on the right for a quiet lagoon which is situated at what will be the near end of the buildings. It will be deserted. They are the first buildings of the town, the downrivermost ones.

“That lagoon has three boathouses in it, each belonging to one of three companies that are all in trouble due to those wretched Yodans and their war-hunger. As you enter the lagoon, then the right hand one belongs to the largest of the three companies and you should be able to make out the name ‘Yussuf’ above the double doors. That one looks the best of the three from outside. The next one, the middle one, belongs to my cousin. Tie up on the left of the building, go round the back and hanging on a hook on the building side of the sixth step is the key. Let yourself in, open the water doors, and pull your craft in. Just lock up and leave the key in the place you found it when you leave.”

After a quick bite together and a mug of pel, Frang was ready to leave their mutual temporary home and Oggar urged him to do so, saying: “Off you go, young lad. Best of luck in your mission. If you leave now, stay tight to this shore all the way round the large bend that will leave you pointing in the opposite direction to this one. Today’s wind will then speed you up the next stretch of the river. Once you get to the bend that takes you a quarter way round a circle to the left, then my rest spot will appear after a further bell on the right. Remember, look for the three tall ozal trees atop the brush, next to a bare trunk covered with white avian droppings. Slide in there and you shall find near-slack water, a gentle beach and a safe haven. And firewood. Now off you go, before the wind gets too hard to go against easily.”

A brief handshake, a sketched salute, and Frang was waterborne once more. Saddened at leaving a friend even though he had known him less than a day.

… …. …

“Right then, Orlet. Whilst we do the exercises to help your right shoulder which is still very weak, run through your family names once more.”

Sigh. “Must I?”

“The exercises or the family?”

“Both”.

“Yes,” said Chara firmly. “And this afternoon, we must walk the streets and show you to the Yodans. Establish your presence here. Become part of the furniture of this district, if you like.”

Another sigh. “I know it makes sense, and I know you all said this would be hard work, but I have had scarce three bells sleep with all that I have discovered, that you have revealed. Surely it can wait a day.”

“No-one can say what will happen in a day and a night. You need far more training as you found out earlier this morn. Remember, you have a long way to go to be convincing in all respects as you are going to have to be. Mama will have to sew some more dark hairs into another headcloth so all will be persuaded that you have another hair colour than is yours naturally. ’Twould be suspicious if you always had the same headscarf on. Both these headscarves shall have the same coloured hair of course – as will any others we fashion for you. You must appear as a typical local woman whenever you go outside. Which is why we must needs have at least three more dresses for you as well.”

“These dresses are impossible to put on alone; now that I am mostly recovered, at least in my mind, what are we going to do when I have to change?”

“I shall continue to help you, and you shall help me likewise.”

“But ...”

“Oh tush! I know you said things were different where you grew up, but just who do you think has been washing you down there ever since you arrived in your coma? And if you are truly going to be a girl based in this community, then you shall have need to see my, and possibly other women’s breasts ... nether regions even. You must become accustomed to such normal womanly behaviour, normal that is here in the Great Valley. We explained all this last night, even while explaining your … appendages … on your chest and your bottom. Now stop finding groundless objections and start relating our family tree while raising your right arm up sidewards.”

… … …

“Halt right there, you! Stand by the wall, hands raised.” Brid’s voice rang out.

Brid turned to Marsel. “Keep watch behind me while I check out this fellow’s pockets. That collision with the old lady there looked suspicious to me. I wager he has stolen her coin.”

Marsel drew his sword and held it somewhat nervously as he guarded the entrance to another narrow alleyway in which the encounter was taking place. A few strides behind him, the apprehended youth muttered away viciously about false arrest, and pox-ridden Yodans and the like. Just a lot of noise that Marsel had swiftly learnt to ignore; he already knew to just let it wash over him. Although this one had a particularly irritating whine.

This was at least the tenth suspected arrest the pair of them had made yesterday and today. Some of these stoppages seemed to Marsel to be a little harsh, but then Brid himself sometimes displayed a harsh side to his nature. Marsel grinned as Brid growled back to the youth, knowing that the youth would be terrified into silence very soon.

And so it transpired.

After this arrest, though, Marsel noticed an indefinable change in Brid’s manner. He seemed just a little less careworn somehow, though Marsel couldn’t quantify it in any way. He didn’t worry at it though, for he listened intently as he picked up yet more pearls of wisdom from Brid, filing it all away to ponder over later, to fit it all together, to become an efficient patrolman like his mentor.

The two had, of course, talked together as the duty wore on. Yesterday, Marsel had started by querying everything that Brid had done “… so I can become efficient at this unwanted task. Why did you just go over and inspect the corner of the wall there?”

“Unwanted task? Are you saying you would rather not be out in the fresh air, driving me to despair with your incessant questions?” But Marsel saw him half grin and knew he wasn’t really serious.

“I would much rather be back at home, studying and tilling my father’s fields, and driving my mother to despair with my incessant questions. But I was conscripted and dragged up here, to trail round a foreign town with a grumbly old curmudgeon.”

Brid very nearly laughed out loud at that response.

But then he had turned serious: “So you are really a reluctant recruit?”

With open honesty, Marsel replied: “Indeed so. My father was dragged off the Maker only knows where. We haven’t had a word from him, nor from the authorities. My mother and two sisters are now all that are left to run the farm. They feel very bitter. Doubly so now I too have been dragged off.”

“What about your neighbours?”

“’Tis the same with them.” He dropped his voice and, glancing round, he told Brid: “It wouldn’t surprise me if the entire district rose up in protest and kicked out the administrators and their strongarm men. They just take a large section of any profits and ...” here his voice turned bitter “… rape whichever girl they fancy that day.”

That seemed to put the young man into a black mood, so Brid had dropped the conversation promptly.

Today, Brid was glad the younger man had regained his usual almost cheerful mood.

As for Marsel, he noticed a sort of brooding tension sitting on the district that day, but couldn’t say, due to inexperience, if this was normal and he was just getting used to things as they went on around here.

They found their way to the riverside and stood for a while watching the river, leaning on the railings strung along the outer edge of the wall that loomed above the wooden walkway that served the dozen or so small fishing boats tethered down there. Marsel learned that the wooden walkway was called a pontoon.

“Why is this roadway so far above the pontoon?” he asked aloud. “It must be about ten strides to drop down there.”

“You exaggerate, young Marsel. Surely not as many as ten. As for why, then the Rains come each year and the river shall rise those several strides. In that season, the pontoon shall be banging about roughly where our knees are now. Look around you, observe the watermarks on the buildings around here. See that this roadway is atop a selection of stilts. The entire town has been built above the flood level, which is why we have these steep slopes up to where the majority of the buildings are. Normally ’tis distance that protects towns from the floods, but here, originally, there was a string of substantial dunes. So they dropped deep wooden stilts into the dunes, created areas they filled with stones and rocks – and look there, they even used bricks – from the side valleys, to prevent the dunes being washed away. They ended with a huge mound as solid as if it were a rock. Then they built a town atop it.”

“But how do you know that?” asked Marsel.

“The evidence is before my eyes,” shrugged Brid.

Marsel looked around, opened his mouth to query that statement, then decided to try to work it out himself. His concentration was deep on that task when he was jerked back into the present by a strange, almost vicious, laugh from his partner.

Two other men were leaning there too but they had edged gradually further away from the patrolmen. Marsel thought he recognised them but he knew this edging away was because they didn’t want to be seen to be associating with the enemy. Brid made that laugh suddenly, then grinned to his partner. He swapped sides round Marsel, bringing Brid nearer the men. Who promptly shuffled more obviously away. Marsel nearly laughed aloud as the scene developed with much so obviously ‘said’ and yet not a word had been exchanged.

Marsel’s attention then focussed upon one of the tethered craft for it was plainly equipped differently to the others. So he asked if Brid knew why.

“Indeed I do,” came the unhesitating reply. “I was, before being conscripted, a catcher of brakkis. And, though it should not be me who says so, I was very good at it. That boat there is equipped for brakkycatching, all the others are equipped for fishing.”

“I have heard that a brakky is a one of the tastier things that can be found in the river.”

“Not just in the river. Most do but some brakkis live under the surface of the rivershore sands. There is even a variety that builds its home in the mud!”

“I also hear that they have a hard shell on their backs.”

“That they do. Especially hard near the back end, where they grow their babies. They have six legs, the front two of which are used much as we use our arms, except they have pincers there rather than our fingers. The other four legs keep their balance and enable them to shoot forward and backwards quite quickly, but going sideways is tricky for them.” His voice seemed to grow a little louder as he turned once more to the row of boats moored there. “Yes, of all the boats here, the only one I would consider would be the brakkyboat.”

… … …

Frang was pleased with his boat. Proud of it even. And secretly amazed and suspicious of it. He had built bits of it at home. Put those bits together to make bigger bits. Carried them in secret to a remote cave. Put those bigger bits together to make a whole.

And here he was, sailing on the wings of a benign wind, many, many marks away from where the craft was launched.

And with important messages for well-known people, messages that he knew might affect happenings all around.

Is this all really real?

He leant back and enjoyed the afternoon sunshine.

… … …

“Straighten your back, that’s right. Raise your chin slightly. Now turn just your head to the right. Lay your right hand on its back in your lap. Excellent. Stretch those muscles and sinews. VERY good.”

Orlet wanted nothing more than to stop all this torture, but had to admit she needed to regain some of her muscle tone. She suppressed a sigh as she heard the bells announce that there was still a half bell until their supper. Chara was cooking that for them tonight, whilst Eginet was acting as her torturer.

“Relax for a moment, recite the family names and relationships, then tell me what you did as a little girl growing up in my sister’s household.”

Orlet rolled her eyes but complied, stumbling over only a very few of the made-up details.

“Very good. Now we have to wash our hands for our supper. Let us combine that with something else your muscles need to learn some more. Put your feet together, ankles together, knees together. Thank you. Now the next bit might be awkward for your poor shoulder but try anyway. Lean slightly forward and just sweep upwards onto your feet. As you go up, slide your hands down your bottom, just like you are smoothing your skirts down. Do it as far downwards as that shoulder will allow.”

Orlet was more than a little strained at first.

“Oh dear, that was rather awkward. Try to be a little more elegant when you do it again this time. You may be injured but you are still a lady. I want lady-like in everything you do, even if in pain. You have some rapid growing-up to do young lady.”

It took four tries before Eginet relaxed and allowed her to rest. Her shoulder was aching tremendously from such a simple exercise; it was scarce believable.

Just then the door opened and Berm came in. It had been a shock to Orlet when Berm and his brother had been revealed as part of the ‘deception committee’ as she thought of it. For several reasons.

Mayhap one of the biggest ones was that he was married to Eginet.

And then that BOTH brothers were in no way simpletons; that was THEIR deception constructed for the unwelcome presence of the overlords. The two men were both intelligent and decisive. And they were almost telepathic, the one often finishing the other’s sentences.

The entire deception committee had all sworn their oaths, so Orlet had done so as well. She was now absolutely committed to learning everything she would need to to project a believable and consistent image as a young female member of this family. No-one would from now on refer to her other than by the name Orlet.

And she had a full and demanding set of physical exercises to do as well.

AND learn a full family background of which she had had no idea a week ago.

Plus all the rest.

Her head was spinning when she eventually lay back and laid it on her pillow.

… … ...

As was Brid’s head when he too allowed his pillow to cushion it that night. He had gathered certain information during his rounds that day and needed to make a decision. It was a decision that was not going to be easy to arrive at.

When they had signed off for the day, Marsel declared he would go carousing with some of the other patrolmen of his age. Brid was left haunting the barracks. He casually wandered down towards the officers’ rooms when he overheard something that made him think furiously.

His head invented ever more complex solutions; so much so that he wondered if he would ever get any sleep that night. And yet he knew he needed to sleep. He would need to be as strong as possible in the next day or two.

Still he fretted.

… … …

Frang had no such problems. Oggar’s descriptions had been spot on. The weather had been exactly as predicted. The resting spot was precisely where and as described. He could have gone on a bit further, the light would have indeed permitted it, but he decided against risking another unresearched landing in the dusk or even dark; particularly as Oggar had promised him ’twould be an easy day’s journey from here to his desired destination in Bibek. Conscious of normal waterwayfolk habits, he made sure to leave a supply of cut wood ready for the next traveller to use.

The night had been comfortable, so much so that he vowed to return sometime. Sometime when the pressures on him were not quite so great.

… … …

The dawn broke, the sun reflected off the mountain tops, some of which were visible – just – above the Great Valley walls.

… … ...

As he sailed further upriver first thing that next morning, Frang realised that he looked forward to resting once more in a town and wondered what sort of accommodation his meagre supply of coin might afford him. He was aware that it might take a while there to actually arrange a meeting with the person he needed to see.

But he was enjoying himself which still felt wrong somehow.

He aimed to pull into the lagoon Oggar had told him about just about dusk, hoping that there would not be too many people around to wonder why a Pakmali craft was pulling in there. By doing so at dusk, he would be able to claim that he was getting desperate due to the failing light.

… … …

Brid’s morning routine was the same as yesterday’s. Just the thought that it would be all happening on the morrow now was uppermost in his mind as he prepared for this day. He found himself warming to his new partner, something he could never have done with his last one.

Is that contrast making young Marsel seem nicer than he actually is? What can I show him today to keep him out of trouble or is this the day the whole thing collapses on us?

He shrugged his thoughts back into his head and set out for yet another day on the job.

… … …

“Thank you Chara,” said Orlet as the other finished tying her into her dress. “Let me do yours now. Then we can break our fasts. I was hungry in the night!”

“We have much to do this day, my dear!”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” replied Orlet drily. Chara looked at her sharply.

… … ...

Marsel was getting used to the changing moods his mentor displayed. Sometimes brooding and thoughtful, sometimes almost light in tone; but never a laugh or a joke with the ‘natives’ as he sometimes called them. Brid stopped several youngsters who were acting ‘too boisterously’ and once he was angered by one man, not of the neighbourhood, who seemed to be lurking furtively. Again they met the two simpletons, separately, and Marsel was getting used to the shoulder slaps and the handshakes upon parting.

… … ...

Orlet continued to exercise both her mind and her body and really enjoyed an infrequent excursion outside, walking around the neighbourhood. She tried to keep from grinning as she concentrated upon making sure she always limped slightly on the same leg; this was a ruse dreamt up by Eginet to allow her to assume a more hunched profile, thus distracting from her injured right shoulder. She met the two Yodan patrolmen on this walkabout and nearly laughed as the young one looked up to the overhanging trees as she passed under them. The older one scarce looked at her, concentrating as he was at something behind her.

… … ...

Meanwhile, more than several marks upriver, Frang had made such good progress that he decided to cross the river to the far bank on the Zebrin side where he felt his sail would be less out of place. At one point he saw a small rowing boat drawn up with a man squatting not too far away. He soon realised that the man was simply just squatting contemplatively, not actually emptying his bowels or anything. The man seemed to examine Frang closely but still raised a companionable hand when the lad did his. They parted without speaking. Without getting closer than a cast or so.

… … ...

It was after everyone’s normal supper time, just close to the actual sunset, that each person’s world, in its own way, exploded.

… … …

Frang sailed across the Sirrel from the Zebrin side, aiming most of the way for just upriver of the mouth of what he knew to be the Faral River. He could then, if he judged it right, allow the currents to sweep him the short distance downriver and thus gain the entrance to the lagoon without having to make too much headway against those currents. He naturally kept a watch out for other craft and was surprised to see how few there were around. He found himself slowly converging on a course being taken by a man rowing with smooth, powerful strokes across towards the Faralmark side. That man was making surprisingly rapid progress. Frang glanced back to the Zebrin shore and saw it was now empty. Could this rower be the squatter I saw over there? If so, should I be worried about that?

As the angles opened up, he was temporarily distracted by the volume of little boats he could now see, all crowding the lower waters of the Faral, jostling to gain the shelter of what looked to be a sizeable river port. He spent a fair few moments gazing up there, fascinated by all the moves being made.

He switched to watching a larger craft speed down towards him on the current of the Sirrel. Then this one swung to its left and into the mouth of the Faral, joining in with the little ones crowding into the port.

When he checked round once more nearer to his own craft, he was startled not to see that rowing boat any more. He scanned around swiftly to see if he could spot anyone in distress or an upturned boat or similar but he couldn’t. However, he dare not spend too much time on that problem for he now had to enter his long curving approach to the mouth of the lagoon, which mouth he could ever increasingly define against the background.

He allowed himself a smile of pride as he swept into the haven with scarce an abrupt movement, judging the currents perfectly.

It was just as Oggar had described. The right hand, downriver that is, boathouse had faded lettering spelling out the name ‘Yussuf’. The other two were slightly more dilapidated than that first one. He tied up where Oggar had told him, he found the key where Oggar had told him and he did everything that Oggar had told him to. He sent silent thanks.

He decided to scout out his next steps first, find out where the man he needed to see lived and so on. After some little jobs inside the boathouse, he locked it behind him, replaced the key onto its hook and walked down the steps, his eyes already searching for the pedestrian exit to this little enclave.

“Hold there! Are you a spy?”

… … ...

Brid knew that every night has a thousand eyes but felt he had managed to fulfil his mission without drawing undue attention to himself. Of course, anytime he entered an inn on his own and out of uniform, he was left in splendid isolation and was very much the centre of attention.

The clientele in the Gogon’s Fin had been no different. He had, however, managed to find someone to summon an urchin to do his bidding. Which had taken quite a bit of persuasion. So Brid had casually wandered back out onto the street without purchasing anything to drink or eat for himself. He had deliberately not wished them all a good night as he left.

He met the urchin out in the dark and eventually sent that lad on his way. The lad, named for whatever obscure reasons ‘Striker’, had needed very careful coaching. Brid had wondered once or twice if the lad was going to be too young for his needs. But subsequent behaviour told Brid the lad had done his task well. He himself walked up the road and then simply seemed to fade into the shadows.

When Brid eventually returned to his room, he was most anxious. This had to have been the riskiest episode he had undertaken, he felt.

He spent the next bells going over everything he had done, and all that he would have to do in the morning. He doubted he would sleep easily and yet the opposite occurred. He didn’t bother to change the bedsheet before collapsing into bed.

… … …

“Can I not unload the strain on my shoulder from these … hangers?”

“Perhaps ’twould be a good idea, but you must needs learn to have them at all times, learn indeed to almost love them. Let us retire for the night in a half bell, then I shall allow you to ditch your burden. We may yet have visitors and all have now come to expect you to have larger breasts than your natural ones and ...”

Eginet broke off as a knocking on the door, in a strange but strict sequence, indicated ’twas one of the brothers wishing to gain access to their rooms. Eginet raised an eyebrow and Orlet shrugged her good shoulder as best as she could. Eginet held a hand out towards Orlet, inviting her to be the one to speak. It was totally natural now that Orlet had gained this aura of easy command.

“Come,” she called out.

As it happened, both brothers came into the room, not just the one they had initially expected. The women all looked from one of the brothers to the other.

Berm it was who started: “Good e’en Mil... er ... Mistress … I MUST remember ‘Mistress’ ... Orlet. Good e’en Eginet and Chara.”

In a teasing, almost flirtatious voice, which visibly shocked both Berm and Eginet, Orlet said: “And would you rather address me as Milady?”

Wallis laughed and rumbled: “’Twould be easier, given these circumstances.”

“But not in Yodan hearing,” snapped Eginet, annoyed. “We must NEVER lapse from the deception, even amongst ourselves. The slightest thing could slip us up. She is Mistress Orlet.”

She paused briefly before she emphasised: “Mistress.”

All immediately sobered up.

“So,” continued Orlet after a further short pause, “what should we know before resting this night?”

“A number of things,” started Berm. “One is that that Kalvo is now fish food and all his possessions, except his weapons and this box, have been consigned to the waters.” Berm tossed the box that contained Kalvo’s mementoes onto the bed next to Orlet. “Some of those contents can probably be returned to their natural owners – eventually. ’Tis not a priority at this very heartbeat.”

In a cold voice, all traces of levity now missing, Orlet asked; “Who killed the bastard? I would reward them.”

Berm and Wallis grinned mirthlessly at each other. Wallis replied: “We don’t exactly know.”

Orlet just looked at him balefully.

Which made Wallis hasten to expand upon that answer when Orlet then turned very reproachful eyes upon him.

“We were eight; Berm and I tied him up and gagged him. Then the six women, each of whom he had molested to varying degrees, along with us two, took it in turns to stab him. One of us must have killed him with one of our stabs but this was all designed so that none of us know which stab was exactly the one to finally do him in. We each had three goes. The two patrolmen turned up only heartbeats after his body had been dragged on its tarpaulin into the nearest hallway. His kitbags were still lying on the ground, but the women moved so that they obscured a direct view from the alleymouth.”

Orlet’s eyes flashed to lock onto Chara’s. Then Orlet pointedly looked at the hem of Chara’s skirt. “Now it makes sense. I noticed that mark earlier, when it was a little fresher.” Chara grabbed the hem and studied it. She soon found the dried bloodstain. Her face drained. But she raised her chin and said coldly: “It was a pleasure!” Eginet nodded.

Berm dragged the discussion back: “POINT TWO,” his loud tones grabbed all the attention, “is that it is tomorrow, at the third bell that we shall all rise up against the Yodans.”

“So soon!” said a surprised Orlet. Then she grinned. “It seems that my disguise might not be required all that much longer. I shall be able to return to me. Get used again to a … less heavy bustline.”

There were sympathetic grins all round.

“We expect the Yodans to draft in forces from outside, which should then give the Faralmark forces encouragement to invade us – just to send the Yoda...”

Just then, there came a further knock on the door, this one just a normal series of taps. But still somehow conveying a sense of urgency.

Eginet hissed to Orlet: “Smooth your skirts beneath you, and find it difficult to speak, as if you have a sore throat! Just fold one hand inside another in your lap. Look innocent. Keep your eyes downcast. Chara, the same.”

There was a bustle of everyone settling themselves into an innocent-looking domestic scene.

Just as the knocking started again, Eginet flashed a look round the room and was satisfied that nothing was out of place. “Come in!” she called, her tense nerves making her voice catch slightly.

They all relaxed slightly as one of the local urchins, an older one called for some reason ‘Strongarm’, opened the latch and entered. He looked around and wished everyone a good evening.

Then he went over to Berm. “Berm, message from a gent who din’t wanna be seen proper so it all came out a bit complicated like. Apparently, it seemed to me, ...”

“Good e’en, Strongarm. Never mind all that conjecture lad, what is the message?”

“It were a strange one. I were summoned by ano...”

“The message?” growled Berm, his impatience clear.

Strongarm swallowed, thought back in his head, and blurted it right out, obviously just as he had been coached to do: “Fifth better than third. Convoy leaving at fourth. Half will be gone.”

“Maker!” exclaimed Berm, obviously thinking furiously. “Anything else?”

“Two brakkis will be cooked for the third bell. Their shells are their homes, so items that need carrying go with them.” He stopped at that point, but then decided he should make something clear: “And that’s all.”

“You sure?”

“Let me see, fifth rather than third, fourth convoy, half gone. Two brakkis at the third, shell, homes and belongings.”

Berm flipped the lad a coin and ushered him out.

Chara muttered aloud: “I hate numbers! As soon as they appear, my brain shuts off.”

Berm bustled back in and started issuing orders. “Wallis, you need to get over to the Waggoner’s Line and tell them to delay the uprising by two bells. As fast as you can, you know who to speak to. Tell them our informant has only just urgently told us the news. Taken risks to get the message to us.

“Chara, can you and Megmet go down to the warehouse area and find Leewal, probably in the Chizzen Pot? Tell him that a convoy will take half the Yodans away at the fourth bell tomorrow, so we need to start it all off at the fifth bell and NOT the third.”

Orlet and Eginet both said “Ah!” in understanding at the same heartbeat.

“All of you, get the ones you tell to spread the news. Fifth bell not third!”

“I will have to spread the news into other areas too. Right then, off we all go. Oh and Mistress Orlet, I fear that you might be in disguise for some time yet. I shall explain first thing in the morning, but I deem the morn shall be the last peaceful one for quite a long while. You are still in the gravest of danger. Even if we drive the Yodans out, there will still be turmoil as a new leader is sought.”

“But what was the bit about brakkis?” demanded Orlet.

“Later, later,” said Berm as he waved the question away and shot out onto the street.

“And how do you know all this is right?” she called, but quietly, after him. After all, the whole street didn’t need to know their business.

But the question never reached his ears.

And the anxiety in Orlet’s belly set in.

… … …

Frang silently thanked the Maker for his precautions. He had not unloaded the boat entirely, but he had found a good hiding place for the documents so he was confident that they would not go missing in his absence. And there was adequate space for him to stretch out overnight, and the roof looked sound. He would light a cooking fire outside on the hard-packed sort of courtyard he had seen as he made his way in. All in all, it was a good place to stop.

But he was struggling in his conversation with this strange man dressed in a long sweeping robe. In fact, he was debating with himself as to whether or not to just brush past the man and ignore him. It had become obvious that the man was alone. But on the other hand, there was a possibility, if he was clever, to learn where to find the other man, the one he had travelled all this way to see. But then, if he just brushed past this man, he would have to find some other spot to hole up in.

He decided to be polite and guarded in his replies.

But he was put on the back foot immediately: “So why does a Faniran boat bear a Pakmali sail and tie up for the night in a Faral refuge?”

“I … errrrm … I … am not sure what you mean!”

The man smiled. “Yes you do. You’re just buying some time to think. I know that you are intelligent, for you sailed in here almost as perfectly as I could have done; it was a very good example of boat handling. But I am intrigued as to how you knew of this place. My guess is that you are Faniran, probably from Upper Fanir. You tried to disguise your vessel with a Pakmali sail. I ask myself why you would want to do that? I deem the only logical answer must be that you wanted to escape from under the noses of the Yodans that control your country.”

Frang felt his mouth drop open. He tried to close it again, but was shocked even more as this strange man continued.

“But why would you come upriver to a particular lagoon in Bibek, having effected your freedom? That needed a little thought but then it occurred to me. You bear messages, mayhap parcels and/or documents to the Representative from your land, such parcels or documents that are NOT to be seen by Yodans, who could intercept them at any time if they were sent overland. But they are of sufficient urgency to risk a dangerous passage. I deem they have chosen their message bringer well. Your Representative, by the way, is named Olva, in case you have not been told, and he lives just to the west of the Fortress up there. That house with the red roof tiles.

“But I must know how you knew of this deserted spot, perfect for your purposes. THAT point escapes my reasoning.”

Frang felt breathless as he studied the man.

“Errrm … Master … ???”

“Yussuf is my name. As painted on the boathouse there.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “My wife Dab wants me to make that more prominent again, but, frankly, coin is scarce at the moment. The Yodans have crippled many of our waterborne businesses here.” He thought a little. “ALL of them.”

Frang once again had to make an important decision. In a hurry.

He weighed all the facts. Yussuf patiently waited, a faint smile on his face and totally non-threatening in his posture.

Frang COULD trust this man, he felt.

His name was painted on a boathouse, and it was faded. So it had not been put there just for my arrival. Oggar could not have got a message up here in time for them to prepare this place to fool me.

The man must have been accidentally over there on the Zebrin shore, not deliberately waiting for me. I myself had only gone along that side as a last minute decision, to use up some time.

With a nervous gulp, Frang decided to open up again, maybe not the whole way this time, but he would tell the truth - mostly.

“Very well,” he sighed. “It was like this ...”

… … …

The sun heaved itself once more above the Valley’s shoulder. There were very few clouds about and the day had started clear but again cold. So the sun’s rays were welcomed once they struck the pair of involved towns.

… … …

“But why must we?”

“You do not need to know right now, you just need to do it. Make sure it is all done at least a quarter bell before the third. I really must dash now.”

“Shall we do both, or just one while Chara and Megmet do the other?” asked Orlet.

“Just sort it out yourselves. But just do it. I am relying on you. I have too much to do this morn.” Berm shuddered as the first ray of sunshine hit the window curtain. “Davikto,” he swore. “Already! Time is fleeing this morning. If the events pass smoothly, I shall be able to explain all tonight.”

With that he scuttled off on yet another errand leaving behind a sense of wonder, anticipation and excitement, all tinged with apprehension. And several unanswered questions.

He had arrived almost before the sky had lightened off to the east. He had not spent the night here in his home, with his wife and daughter and the new ‘cousin’ (or ‘niece’ with reference to himself and Eginet). It was clear he had been up all night.

His first words had really grabbed their attention: “Let us be clear, my ladies three, it could happen that I am killed today. We rise against the Yodans at the fifth bell. The Yodans have those wonder weapons, but a message told us that nearly all of those weapons shall be leaving at the fourth bell as well. They’re wanted to turn the tide of battles downvalley. I want all three of you here behind a bolted door from just before the fourth bell. Stay inside and try to keep a thick wall between you and any Yodans you see.

“Orlet, I shall need you to do some things outside before this all starts to get nasty, so you must maintain your disguise this morn. If we fail in our uprising, then the Yodans shall be vicious with their reprisals. If we succeed, then civil war will break out as various factions vye for control of the entire nation. Either way, you are at grave risk. Your story, the one we concocted, would do well enough to fool the Yodans, but we Fanirans will spot anything not quite right and worry at it until it unravels. I have a plan for the future which I deem shall cover you sufficiently, but first we must needs find out what happens later today. If my plan transpires, then you shall need to maintain the deception for as long as it takes for this country to settle down once more.”

A sobered Orlet said in a very small voice: “I had hoped to abandon the deception this morn, but I am aware that you know far more than I. I must hear you and allow myself to continue to be guided by you.”

“Your words relieve me, knowing as I do now that you shall not undermine my efforts. I am immensely grateful for that.”

Eginet broke in then: “Can you tell us how you know all these things? And what was that curious message last e’en about brakkis?”

Berm stroked his chin as he looked at his wife, thinking furiously. “I cannot reveal all, as I am sure you will fully understand since others’ lives are at stake, should you be captured or tortured. Several lives are at risk, not just one. But we have had an informant with limited access to Yodan plans. He has passed us messages with information and sometimes with suggestions. Sometimes we have had verbal messages, but mostly we have had written ones. The wa...”

“But you can’t write!”

“My dear wife, I have been able to do so these past three years. Someone in the Count’s household showed me.” He flicked his eyes around all the women sitting there. “And, if the future permits, I shall ensure that you all learn such a skill as well.” He had to raise his voice slightly for that last bit, since Orlet had succumbed to a sudden coughing fit. “Are you alright, Mistress?”

She waved a hand at Berm, nodding furiously as the last few coughs erupted.

Eginet looked annoyed at having such a secret kept from her. But she knew that now was not the time to make a fuss about it. But nevertheless she felt hurt. Very hurt.

Berm continued, ignorant of his wife’s anger: “But back to business. Last night our … spy, I suppose ... took a grave risk to let us know the best time for our attack. He is resourceful in his attentions. And I have some shocking news for you - we have to thank Kalvo for much of the information we receive from this man who must continue to remain unidentified.”

The expected gasps of both surprise and disgust interrupted his discourse for a few heartbeats.

“Our ‘spy’ was so disgusted by that Kalvo that he swore to me that, and I quote, ‘the little whoreson shall never leave Upper Fanir alive’. Yesterday he sent me a message telling us that Kalvo was suddenly being transferred and suggested that we deal with the disgusting patrolman ourselves. We had two bells, he said, when no-one, and when he said no-one he meant that Brid person, would be guarding over him; two bells when Kalvo would be out of the knowledge of any other Yodan.”

“Aaaah!” breathed Chara. “You arranged everything so well, Papa. And yet you had so little time.”

“Wallis is a reliable partner in many of my, nay our, dealings.”

“So what has any of this to do with brakkis?”

“I was merely setting the scene so as to speak. There can be no direct connection with the brakkis message and what I have just said, but I just wanted you to know that there are many things going on that I have had need to keep secret. I don’t want you harbouring any resentment because I have not divulged all to you. I wanted merely to reduce the amount any of you could tell anyone if the worse was to happen.

“I shall now explain the brakky references.

“There is a brakkyboat tied up amidst the fishing boats down at the riverside pontoon. Deliberately, so no mistake with the identification of which boat can be made. This boat must be laden with various things ready for a quick departure at the third bell. The use of the words brakky or brakkis in our messages simply serve to identify which boat we must prepare, and indeed also identify the details of this plan. Just a mention of brakky or brakkis tells each of those involved in a single word just which plan we are all talking about.

“I shall need to have you three girls and Megmet sneak into a house or two and remove stuff, then deliver it to the brakkyboat, hiding your burdens from sight in the bottom of the boat, under a cover that is already there, just casually tossed in to seem unplanned. I suggest you disguise your burdens as laundry. I know not for certain, at this moment, if this is going to happen but shall send a message here just after the second bell when all has been confirmed.

“Now I must be off. Don’t forget, be awaiting a message at the second bell. The boat needs loading and you are the only ones I can trust to do it.”

“But why must we?”

… … …

Frang thought the Representative looked very tired and drawn. He was apprised of the reasons by the Representative’s first words.

“I must thank you, young Master Frang, for bringing me these very important documents, at some considerable risk to yourself. I have been awake all night perusing them, much to my wife’s disgust. Now I have several questions for you. The first of which is: Have you yourself read anything of the contents?”

“Your Honour ... Milord ... sorry, however ’tis you should be addressed! I regret that my reading skills have not been developed. I have a basic level of reading and writing, but no more. I have not even extracted the documents from their protection. I have no idea what they contain. I am really just a simple fisherman from a fishing family.”

“Ah! That answers many of the subsequent questions I had prepared.” He broke off to gather his thoughts into a slightly different direction. “To answer YOUR question, Milord would be the correct term of address for me.” But Olva was obviously thinking of other things as he said that.

“Now to continue with these matters precipitated by your arrival. Your verbal message to me about the young Count told me more than you can imagine. First of all, just by mentioning his name and his title, you have told me that his father has died, probably killed, but nevertheless is dead. The lad would not have ascended to the title of ‘Count’ had the title not been made free.

“Reading between your words, some local citizenry have caused the Yodans some confusion by hiding Count Darkwin from the Yodans. I find I must agree with them in that the young Count would be an ideal figurehead for any future Faniran government. I say this objectively even though he is a distant relative. Do you actually know for certain if the young Count is still alive or not? My many other informants say that he is in fact dead. They also, incidentally, tell me that those who managed to get away to the Uplands at the time of the invasion contain no-one with any great credentials to become our next leader once our country regains its independent nationhood.”

Frang found that he understood many of the implications in what Olva had just said. “I myself cannot say with any certainty whether the young Count survived the Yodan attack on their mansion. A relative of my mother’s, some remote cousin I believe, a servant in the household named Berm, claims that the lad’s body was spirited away from under the nose of the Yodans to foster some consternation amongst the occupying forces. It seems to me that all this happened some three or so months ago and that the Yodans have actually succeeded in their aim of removing the focal points for any future government, in their belief that such a leader would also be a focal point for any rebellion and/or resistance.

“I have formed these opinions from discussions with others at home. Also not just Fanirans, as I have travelled across the Sirrel often and spoken with Pakmalis too. Some Faral fishers have crossed my path, not just on my journey up here. But I am, I repeat, a simple fisherman, one who was licenced by the Yodans only because they wanted their own supplies. I am not privy to the mentality of nations’ leaders. But, to answer your question directly, I deem the lad is no longer alive.”

Olva’s eyebrows had risen during this speechified reply. “Your choice of words would normally indicate a level of education in advance of that of a simple fisherman. Some of your word choices are frankly surprising.”

“Milord, as a youngster, I accompanied my mother to her work in a local landowner’s household, being too young to be left unsupervised. The wife of that landowner insisted that I be included in the lessons that her children were then undertaking at home.”

“You did not then pursue a more … intellectual career than that of a simple fisherman?”

“Milord, it is not a wise thing to do to stand out when under Yodan rule. I confess to belittling my abilities somewhat. I also had early training in my father’s tasks aboard his fishing craft, so chose to recede into the background as it were.”

“I see. Talking of which, that local man, Yussuf, the Faral citizen who introduced you to me, suggested that you have exceptional boat handling skills. He is a renowned bargeowner in these parts, so his word carries weight when it comes to matters afloat.”

“My entire spare time, since I was old enough to be trusted to go alone, has been afloat. It is kind of Master Yussuf to say what he said, but I find it simply natural. Common sense if you prefer.”

“Hmmm,” commented the Representative, obviously deep in thought. Frang was wise enough to leave him to it.

The silence stretched into the realms of awkwardness before Olva spoke once more. “You said last night that the Yodans wouldn’t miss your boat as it didn’t actually exist before you built it. So does that mean you could return and no-one would be aware of this meeting? I’m sure I could smuggle you across the border back into Upper Fanir, then you could make your way overland back to Faralan. But ’twould take a week or more to arrange.”

“That would be extremely helpful, Milord. Otherwise, I had planned to return down the river and come ashore secretly; but was worried about the boat – it would break my heart to damage or even destroy such a valiant accomplice.”

“Very well, I shall arrange things accordingly. In the meantime may I suggest that we account you one of the household here, tasked with keeping us supplied with a good supply of fish. I shall draw up appropriate charters of association that will give you immunity from Faralmark authorities. You may overnight here, in this house, and I shall arrange with that Yussuf as to what we should do with your faithful craft.”

“I thank you Milord! And now I have one final instruction from that Berm man I mentioned. He told me to tell you, when all our arrangements are made, that there is a remote dialect in which the word Olvar – that is your name but with an ‘r’ on the end – refers to plants rather than animals. And that one species of tree these remote folk worship is a giant spreading tree whose branches spread out and protect all below. Berm made me learn the following words by heart: ‘Particularly in the time of the Dark Wind, which the tree tames and guides before letting it go on with its task.’ He said to be sure you got that message before I parted.”

Frang wasn’t sure if he detected a sudden sharpening of interest on Olva’s part, but the Representative explained that possibility by saying: “Ah! Your Berm knows of my interest in remote words so please be sure to thank him for expanding my knowledge.

“Now, let me show you to what will be your room, then I suggest you retrieve your personal items from your boat.”

… … …

Brid hailed Marsel’s back as they both approached the fiveway junction from the direction that led to the barracks. Brid was a cast or so behind the other and almost trotting to catch up.

Marsel stopped and turned round, even as Brid was calling out: “Good morn, young partner. I have a special order for us today.”

Marsel raised a hand half in salute, half in acknowledgement. “Oh yes? What’s that?”

“I’ll explain as we go along. First let us see if all our good boys and girls are still all being good boys and girls. It lacks but a quarter before the second bell, so they shouldn’t have had time enough to get up to very much mischief.”

The two reached the fiveway and headed uphill along the narrowest lane. They had gone a cast up there when Brid tugged on Marsel’s tunic and indicated he wanted to speak privately. With many a glance around for anyone who could overhear, Brid pulled Marsel to one side, next to a high fence.

“The officer told me that a small boat has crashed into the shore about two marks down the river on the outside of a bend. We must go down and see if it could have been the one we investigated the other day. We shall amble about our usual patrol area just so everyone can see we’re here, and then we will take one of the boats that are tied up down at the riverside and scoot down to do our job there. We should be away maybe four or five bells but shall get back in time to do a last quick patrol before dusk. The locals here probably won’t even notice we’re gone. At least we shall get a change from our normal boring routine.”

He saw Marsel’s eyes light up. He issued a warning though: “Don’t let anyone know, though, that we’ll be away and that there shall be no-one here for half the day. They may be tempted to do something … unruly. So let’s make the appearance of a normal patrol.”

They passed time patrolling up and down and around, looking official and fierce. Brid growled at some of the people they passed and Marsel wondered if they could tell it was a false growl; he felt he was beginning to know Brid quite well now. He had to suppress a grin when the older man did it.

… … …

“This is all too much for my shoulder. I couldn’t manage to carry these bags down the steps,” complained Orlet.

“Do what we did,” said Chara. “We lowered them down the ramp on the end of a rope. You wait up here. Mama, Megmet and I can finish off the job.”

“Very well.”

So Orlet was sat alone at the top, whilst the other three women carried the items to the brakkyboat.

“Good morn, Mistress Orlet.”

With a gasp, Orlet swung round. A young and blushing face was looking diffidently at her, a face she recognised. What was his name? Oh Maker! Let me see.

With a gasp of relief, she said: “Strongarm. You startled me. What may I do for you?”

Then she realised the lad was squirming with embarrassment. She tried to smile to put him more at ease. It seemed to make it worse somehow.

“Errrrm … Mistress Orlet, I was … no … errr … sorry … no … my sister told me to be honest.” He swallowed and straightened his spine. “My brother tasked me with finding out if you have any understanding with anyone. If not, he would like to get to know you better.”

’Twas Orlet’s turn to blush.

… … ...

Brid timed it so that they reached the railings up above the riverside pontoon just about a bell, maybe a little more, after they had met. He led them along the pathway that overlooked the boats and studied without seeming to the vessels all lined up below, bobbing on the uneven water. The two strolled comfortably down to the end where, glancing around, Brid said quietly: “There are four equipped with oars. The green one just two along from here, then four more to the orange one, skip one to get to the brakkyboat, and finally the blue one three from the end.

“I see no-one about, so let us examine them a little closer. We’ll take the first one we can. It must have two oars, not just one. A bonus would be if it also had a mast and sail. I’ll get in, then you untie the ropes at the pontoon end and step in with them as well.”

The two quickly descended the vertical steps next to the steep ramp and walked swiftly to their first target. Marsel rejected it as the oars were chained tightly to the thwart. Brid leant over the next one they had identified and said: “I deem we can fiddle the oars out from under their chains. They are not so tightly bound.”

“Hold,” said Marsel. “I see the outline of a mast and sail in the brakkyboat, under a cover, as well as oars. Nothing seems chained down, it’s almost as if it has been prepared for use.”

Brid jerked upright. “Do you say?” He ran over to where Marsel was pointing. “I deem you are right. Then we shall take the brakkyboat. That will scupper whatever plans these people have laid. And we can investigate these events when we return this e’en.”

So saying, Brid jumped lightly into their chosen craft and held onto the neighbouring one as Marsel cast off the ties that bound them. Using hands on the neighbouring craft, they pushed backwards into the river. Brid swiftly dropped his swordbelt and settled into position, first shipping the oars into their slots, then taking the handles of the two oars familiarly into his hands. Facing backwards, Brid saw a group of people all run down towards the pontoon, waving their arms and gesticulating wildly. He laughed. With a dozen powerful strokes, he pulled the boat out into the main river current.

---

Keeping control.

---

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.

---

Afterwards

… … …

Yussuf and Frang squatted companionably together and gazed across the Sirrel to distant Bibek.

“… another two days at least to get upriver to another country.”

“Do you say?”

“Indeed so. Yes, with a good sailing vessel and sturdy oarsmen, maybe, just maybe, you could get as far as the border to Thesk in a single day, but the country there is very remote and an overnight would not be the most comfortable.”

“I deem then I shall have to be satisfied with having been to the Upper Fanir of my birth, Pakmal and Faralmark, and now I can add Zebrin to that list.”

“Talking of lists, we should perhaps make a start on the fishing we are here for.”

Frang nodded in agreement and effortlessly stood up straight. “I shall check our Brakky trap.”

Yussuf was a little slower getting to his feet, an action which brought home the realisation that he was not as young as he used to be.

“With luck,” he called, “we should get a decent haul of Gadis this side of the river, even though the fish are normally not so active in the middle of the day; then I know a special spot for Foti just a little way up the Faral. If we get there in the late afternoon...”

“We had better get under way, then,” returned the younger man. “That is a serious amount of waterwork to get done today.”

… … …

“Right then Marsel, I have to be serious right now. Please sit there so we can talk face to face while I row. Move carefully so as not to rock the boat too much. I will compensate for your weight as you squeeze past here. And whatever you do, don’t knock one of these oars into the water.”

A puzzled-looking Marsel moved carefully from behind Brid, where he had unfastened the oars from the chains that held them, to the bench across the back of the boat, the ‘stern’ as Brid had told him it was called. He sat in the middle, of course, and looked at the older man.

Brid started slowly, for he was finding this all very complicated, and he had to advance with great caution. “Where exactly is Willem’s Wharf?”

Marsel’s eyebrows rose, for he hadn’t been expecting this. “It’s not actually Willem in that name. It is Whyrrham ...” he spelt it out for Brid “… and it exists about two hands of marks downriver from Yod City. Opposite one of the side valleys that flow into the Sirrel in what used to be Lower Fanir, before that was forcibly absorbed into the ‘Yodan Sphere of Influence’. ’Tis on the big loop to the right where Yod eventually faces across the river to Ferenis.”

“So, round about the most northerly part of our country, then?” Marsel nodded. “And you were conscripted you said? And you also said that you thought even the Yodans are almost prepared to revolt against our rulers?”

He broke off again, even as Marsel was nodding his further agreement. He saw Marsel was about to speak, so he hurriedly grabbed both oar handles with one hand and held the other up to keep the boy quiet.

“Now, my young friend – and yes, I DO count you as a friend – I must pose you a most difficult question. I hope you trust me sufficiently to be able to count on me. I am about to tell you something shocking and need an answer to my first question before I go any further. You must understand that from now on, I am in your hands.”

He took a deep breath.

“Marsel, I am deserting. Are you with me?”

“WHAT? How? Why? Who … where? I have so many questions!”

“I can answer those questions, but only after you have agreed to join me. If you have not given me your word, then I cannot reveal anything. I have worked hard to keep you in the dark. Now I am working hard to keep you alive! Agree and we shall float on leisurely down the river. If you cannot agree, then I shall put you ashore back in Upper Fanir over there, and we shall part, all further questions unanswered. You should perhaps know that the populace of Upper Fanir are about to rise up and attack any Yodans they see. I shall only request you hold back a while before raising the alarm; to allow me time to get away.”

… … …

“We must get away as soon as we may! Berm awaits us in the Count’s house where he is reorganising the household. ’Twill take a day or so before rooms can be allocated more permanently, but we as a family shall move in there.” Wallis was being most insistent.

The uprising had passed off at the fifth bell as planned. Very few of the Yodans had put up any resistance as the young and middle-aged menfolk of Faralan chased them down the road heading east. Berm and Wallis were worried about the family safety when those men returned to the capital later, drunk on success – and probably on beers and wines as well. Respect for the old Count would keep them from too much mischief at that large mansion. Or so it was hoped.

Berm however was worried that they might chase the remaining Yodans so swiftly, they would catch up with the convoy that had left a bell beforehand. If that happened, then the Yodans could well return in a vengeful mood. And with those ‘wonder weapons’ that killed so indiscriminately.

And the safest place in either case would be in the mansion.

… … …

“Brid, with what I know at the moment, I could never betray you. So yes, I deem I am with you.”

“I thank you for your confidence. I must say that we cannot return to Faralan, for, by now, they will have risen up to kick us Yodans out. They were going to do it at the third bell today, but I persuaded them to delay it until the fifth. I knew, you see, that another half of our forces were to be sent east along with nearly all the ‘guns’ at the fourth bell, so the uprising would be better AFTER that convoy had left. And I arranged for this boat to be made ready for us to leave at the third bell so that we could be considered lost in all the chaos. I dared not wait until the fourth lest we be rounded up and shipped out as well.

“Several Yodans shall be killed this day, I wanted to make sure that we two were well out of harm’s way. I have arranged it so that we can now disappear into the hinterlands of Yod and no-one shall be looking for us.”

“YOU have arranged it? But how have you done that? I have seen no contacts that you have made!”

Brid laughed out loud at that statement.

“Marsel, you have seen me make contact so often! You just didn’t interpret the events correctly. For example, this boat. I told them I wanted this one specifically, and you were right next to me at the time!”

“What? How? When?”

“There you go again. All those incessant questions!”

Marsel glared at him, but then couldn’t prevent himself from grinning and muttering: “Yes, Mother!”

“When we went down to the riverside that time, and you played along unwittingly when you asked me why one boat was different.” Marsel nodded. “There were two men there as well, edging away from us.” Another nod. “I could almost have kissed you when you asked me about that boat, for then I didn’t need to be the one to bring the subject up. I could just say loudly that I would want the brakkyboat. The men were there specifically for me to announce which boat should be prepared.”

Marsel’s mouth worked like a fish out of water. And then a frown came onto his face. “But how did you know they would be there at that time?”

“The two simpletons,” replied Brid, obscurely.

“I don’t follow.”

“They are not simpletons. They just pretend to be!”

“But what have they …?”

“If I clapped one on the shoulder, then that meant I had a written message for them and would hand it over in the parting handshake. It worked the other way too. The shoulder clapper would pass a message to me.”

“Oh!” He thought for a bit. “But surely you did not write EVERYTHING down?”

“Definitely not. All those stops we made of young men. I made sure you had your back turned each time, and were ‘guarding’ us several paces away. We spoke then, but disguised it all as a heated argument, or someone trying to wheedle out of being arrested.”

“But what would have happened if they really needed arresting?”

Brid just looked at Marsel until his face furrowed and he again said: “Oh!”

“I was worried that you might connect the fact that we stopped a lot of young men and yet not one of them was actually arrested on any charges.”

Marsel’s face crumpled. “I have been so childlike, haven’t I? All this going on under my very nose!”

Both men recognised when the next thought shot across Marsel’s brain.

“But,” he began slowly, “how did you manage with the other man, the one that preceded me?”

“Kalvo?” The disgust in Brid’s voice was clear. “He it was that forced me to do all this underhand stuff. He was … Hold! Your voice goes all tight and bitter when we skirt round the subject of rape. Why is that?”

… … …

“Two dozens of Gadis should suffice, but let us gather a hand or two more – in case. Fill our water tank with them. We have a couple of bells of hard work now to get up the Faral far enough for the Foti. But the results shall be worth it. Dab makes an excellent fish stew. And, by the way, diplomatically ’twould be sensible if we gave some of our catch to the Margrave, or at least to the Fortress! I happen to know he has visiting dignitaries from upriver at the moment. Some of them even from as far away as Stirmond.”

“Ah!” replied Frang understandingly. “I shall stow the nets then.”

Soon the little boat was ready to travel again, two sets of oars deployed and two men ready to use their combined strengths. A last shove into the stream of the Sirrel, and the boat was floating free.

The two men set to work with a will.

And really quite soon they were back into the waters on the Faralmark side of the Sirrel.

… … …

“Mistress Orlet, we shall be safe enough here in the Count’s mansion; there are enough of us to keep most unwelcome visitors away. I have enrolled you here as if you were always one of the staff that run this place; you shall be titled ‘Housemistress’. Chara will become your assistant, your very PERSONAL assistant. She will work solely for and with you. For now, the two of you shall have to share a room, which is not an ideal solution as we know; ’twill take us a day or so to arrange all as we want. But then I expect those shall be the duties of any Housemistress we might encounter, heh?”

“Steward Berm, so shall it be,” stated Orlet formally. “What other staff still remain from the old days, and how many more might we need? Are there any that might require any … special attention?”

“If you refer to my wound, then I deem ’tis fine. These bandages suffice. And the other two wounded men are even less damaged than I. And I can personally tell you that the Yodans are running away, as fast as they can. They won’t stop until they reach their homelands.”

“Nay, Steward. I was referring to any precautions we might need to take with certain others. Some are old, mayhap, and wish to retire but some might have had a … seniority, for example, that needs preserving. Or rivalries that mean they should be kept apart. Or knowledge from before the Yodans came. Or anything else?”

“There is one, I deem, who requires a little more information. We will deal with her in the morning. Just keep out of the way for what’s left of this afternoon and evening, if you would. But, as for the rest, that is MY domain and I intend to return this establishment to the way of doing things that the old Count implemented. If you require more manly muscles to do any task, then be pleased to ask me to assign the appropriate persons.”

… … …

“You are right, Master Yussuf,” said Frang as he successfully suppressed a burp. “This fish stew is truly excellent.” He turned to his hostess. “Mistress Dab, your man warned me in advance but I fear you must take him to task. He failed to describe its true magnificence! And to have that combination of freehee, lepsat and irris powder with your stew just takes it all up to a level that must be worthy of the Margrave himself.”

Dab smiled a pleased smile and tried not to blush.

“I should get back now to the Representative’s house, but I thank you profoundly for what has probably been the best meal of my short life. I daresay that Count Olva shall writhe with jealousy when I inform him of what has been consumed here.”

… … …

The marvel in Marsel’s voice was almost comical. “But … how are my kitbags here? Who packed them?”

Brid had told him to sweep aside the covering on the misshapen pile stored in the front of the boat. Again reiterating the need to keep the boat steady whilst doing so.

“I arranged for our kitbags to be taken from our rooms and stowed here. That’s why we spent a little while patrolling round the less usual parts of our area this morning. Just to keep from revealing what was going on. I knew not then if you would be with me. You had just two choices really, to join me or not. If you were not going to be with me, then I had to make certain that you could legitimately claim to be innocent of all goings-on.”

They were approaching quite a tight large bend to the right in the river and Brid steered them to the right bank, the Pakmal bank, where they tied up securely to a sturdy tree bole.

“We will spend the night here,” announced Brid. “You scout around for a largish flattish area where we can get two makeshift beds either side of a fire. Pick up any dry wood too, for we shall need to cook our dinner. I shall start unloading the necessities from the boat, and I dare say I shall manage to catch a few brakkis for us to eat.”

… … …

“Berm! Can we do something more definite please? The kitchen staff refuse to let me do any of the cooking. They say that it is their duty, and that they have been vastly underused in the past weeks and months. And that, until Count Darkwin is officially announced as being dead, they have a further duty to maintain the proper standards in this mansion.”

“Eginet, my love, we must accept their restrictions for the time being. I expect to have everything sorted out on the morrow. Failing that, on the day after. Let them produce our evening meal this once, if you please.”

And that night, there were no fewer than four hands of bodies sitting down to their repast. All seated around the giant table that countless Counts had used to entertain guests and dignitaries. Some felt distinctly uncomfortable doing so, though.

The meal over, Berm took the opportunity to make several announcements. His one bandaged arm helped greatly to enhance the respect he commanded from all present.

“We should be safe here as long as nothing changes the reasons for being basically uninteresting. Once the Yodans had killed our Duke and his entire family, along with two Counts and all theirs, we were left with but three Faniran Counts as the surviving people of rank. The Count Olva is off in Faralmark, where he has been liaising with their Margrave. He and the missing Count Darkwin are the only two … candidates, if you will … whom any petty ‘warlords’ would fear. The third remaining Count is far too old and doddery for anyone to bother with. These ‘warlords’ know they have no chance if either of them appear, so they shall be trying to consolidate their positions before anything like that can happen. Then they will wish to negotiate from a position of strength.”

Orlet could not resist adding, somewhat bitterly: “If either of those two shall have any citizens left to rule over. Some of the people may end up feeling that we were better off under the Yodans than under the chaos that these ‘warlords’ might bring. And ’tis but bells since the uprising.”

“We must make certain that things don’t get out of hand. I don’t believe it will go too much further. I intend to meet with some of the men who ran businesses before the Yodans went and ruined everything. Mayhap I can prevail upon THEM to exercise some control over the hotheads.”

There was a brief moment of silence as all digested the words along with their dinner.

“Steward. May I make a suggestion?”

“What’s that, Mistress Orlet?”

“Why don’t you make your meetings here, in this mansion? By doing that, without great fanfare, you might manage to create the impression that this house is the centre of some sort of control – all without killing off rivals. People will associate this location with authority again.”

Berm was silent, the surprise writ large on his face.

Everyone seated around the table looked at her in awe.

And some with narrowed eyes.

… … …

The dawn breaks, and minds ache!

… … …

“I need to fully understand all this. Point one: you used to be an officer in the Yodan army?”

“Just so. I got disgusted with … just a heartbeat, pass me a handful of those twigs, please … disgusted with the way they treated people, the arrogance they assumed, the unthinking … obedience to some sort of ideal that was never spelt out.” Brid, stirred some more twigs into the fire and watched as the water began to boil. “And was forced to be a witness to a particularly brutal rape. So what did I do?”

“You deserted!”

“Exactly! So I am not what you would call inexperienced in doing this.”

“Was that why you asked me about rape yesterday?”

“Yes and no. You had indicated to me by your voice and body that rape upsets you. Greatly. Bitterly, even.”

“Why do some men have to use this brutality just to have sex?” Marsel obviously steered the conversation away from his personal reasons for his aversion to it.

“Rape is about violence, not sex. If a person hits you with a shovel, you wouldn’t call it gardening, or farming or mining. It’s just a perverted sense of control.

“So one night, I went out on an inspection. And never went back. After a rough night, I bullied my way across the river to what was then known as the Lower Fanir island. My intention was to settle down there and simply farm quietly in their rich fields of golden grain. But the locals were all wary of me. I couldn’t somehow scrub the Yodanness off my skin, however hard I tried to.”

“So what did you do?”

“I waited until I was fairly sure the rains were about to break, paid a local to ferry me across the river, and landed back in Yod. Then I walked south, keeping clear of the trade route at first, for the rains had not actually broken by then, and came across a small village where I struck a deal for work in return for a roof over my head. I chose a new name, of course. As soon as the rains ceased, I left the village heading north but then looped back around it to head south. That taught me a BIG lesson. It took me two whole days just to disappear a mark to the north and reappear a mark to the south. Just because the rains had stopped, it didn’t mean the countryside dried out immediately.”

“I find it difficult to picture all this. My mind aches!”

… … …

“My head hurts!”

“I’m not surprised, Wallis. You drank a little too freely last e’en.”

“Shhhh, Berm. Not so loud!”

Berm laughed but stopped abruptly when a very grumpy brother made to hit him on his bandaged arm.

“Go see the healer about your wounded arm. Leave me in peace!” muttered Wallis.

The brothers were seated at the giant table sipping at some pel, whilst the kitchen staff enthusiastically busied themselves with serving a breakfast to everyone who had been sleeping in the mansion.

Everyone that is except Orlet, Chara and an old servant named Janani. Those three were having a ‘private meeting’ in the girls’ room.

The streets had been rowdy in the night as the people celebrated the departure of the occupying forces. This morning, though, they were even now unnaturally quiet. Probably due to the lack of any cohesive leadership, most were wondering what to do and what the future would bring.

Some wondered if there was yet any work to do.

… … …

“I shall go a’fishing, Milord, which seems to be the best use of my limited talents. But I know not if Master Yussuf shall accompany me once more. I had the feeling last night that his wife had plans for him this day!”

“Ah!” replied the Representative. “I have had, in the past, the rare misfortune to observe that particular lady when she has chosen to be in full flow as it were. Very well, thank you for sharing your time with me at this breakfast. I shall let you get on. We shall dine together this evening. If you are indeed with Master Yussuf, then perhaps you should invite him and his wife to dine with us. Please let the staff here know early enough, of course. Now I must go and visit the Margrave, we have much to talk about, what with Faralmark forces poised to cross into our land.”

… … …

Orlet was ‘on duty’ for the meeting Berm and Wallis had with the business men. The Meeting Room itself was chill, not having been used for so long, so the large fire had been lit soon after the breakfast had been cleared away. Berm had insisted to all the staff that Orlet be present, giving several reasonable and logical reasons for it. But the really persuasive reason was that he wanted the girl to be aware of how these meetings went; what might be expected of household staff and so on.

The discussions had ranged far and wide and several agreements were concluded. Which eased some of Berm’s fears. But not all.

“Fellow citizens, we here in Faralan are now, thankfully, mostly of a mind as to how to get our businesses up and running again. I suggest we make haste to implement the decisions, to get the populace happy with us. As soon as those who fled to the Uplands hear that the way is clear to return, then we shall have a small crowd of people descending upon us to try to take over the city, maybe even the country. The more solid a front we can present, the stronger shall be our ability to resist ‘help’ from those who have suffered but little.”

“’Tis a shame the Yodans murdered the Duke and his entire family, not to mention the three senior Counts and all their kin! We have no one person to call our leader. ’Tis sure to get bloody as that gap is attempted to be filled. And you have no news about young Count Darkwin?”

Berm smiled at the speaker, the one who had been the most pessimistic throughout the meeting. “Master, had the Count been in a position to do so, I’m sure he would have returned here by now. I fear the worst, but have, as yet, no actual proof of his fate. I myself dragged his body from this mansion and delivered him to some healers. He was in a very poor state when I did that, barely breathing and with blood pouring from his head. The healers said they did what they could, but the lad was unable to speak, barely able to eat and drink.

“A woman unknown to them came one day and took the lad away, fearing that the Yodans would find him and finish off the job ‘properly’. She said she would hide him. With all the other work the healers had to do in those dangerous times, none of them gave further thought to the lad, and the woman was soon forgotten.

“As regards a leader for our country, then I have to inform you all that I have sent an urgent message with the Valley Messenger Service to Count Olva who has been our country’s Representative across the upvalley border in Faralmark. I shall endeavour to entice him to return.”

“A good choice, Steward. And thank you for getting us all together here today.”

The men all rose as one and went off in their varying directions, some discussing how they would work with another. It was pleasing to hear that one of the growers already had a consignment for one of the shippers to take upriver to his contacts based in Fort Vanip.

… … …

“So you are agreed then? We shall stick together for at least until the rains cease? I know you wish to return to your womenfolk on the farm, but you quite rightly know that you could be arrested and killed as a deserter if you did that. If we leave now, now that our long discussions have covered everything, then we can reach my village of Klyhill.

“The villagers there, friends for near 20 years, shall hide us from interference and should any officials come along, we both shall wear some bandages or some such to avoid being dragged back into the Yodan forces. Apart from the settlements up the side valley, this is just about the farthest it is possible to get from Yod City. From what I gathered, most of our forces are engaged up in the north, in Ferenis even. I see not why anyone of real importance should get interested in Klyhill and events around there.”

“Very well. Let us hope so.” Although Marsel did look worried as he said that. “And shall we need to change names, as a sort of protection?”

“A good question. I deem my villagers would not be able to adapt quite so easily, so I shall rely upon the remoteness of our village and remain as Brid. But mayhap the combination of Brid and Marsel shall be too much of a reminder. There must be several Brids, several Marsels but very few Brid and Marsels, or Marsel and Brids.”

“Then I shall change mine. What shall it be, I wonder? Let me see…”

“Do you have a name you would particularly like for that shall make it easier to remember? Or should I, or someone else, choose one for you?”

“I deem I should like to have mrmr…” Marsel murmured, almost tasting his reply. Which had not been quite loud enough for clarity.

“What was that?”

… … …

What on Anmar was THAT? Frang’s heart was suddenly hammering in his ribcage. He was alone over on the Zebrin shore, not far from where he and Yussuf had caught all those Gadi yesterday.

His catch of Gadi was less today, but then he was alone and he didn’t really need as many. They seemed to him to be running even more freely than they had been the day before, and yet he didn’t need to catch so many as then. He shook his head at the irony.

Today, as he had crossed over here, he had noticed a slight ooze of water coming in through one of the cracks between two of the parts he had bolted together, so he was allowing his Gadi to swim around in a large catch-net barely submerged at the water’s edge whilst the boat was lying on its side on the mud just a stride away. He had lit a small fire and was softening some of the caulking tar he still had in a box in the bows of the boat. He determined to do a better job all round today now he no longer had to hide the work away from prying eyes. He was beginning, however, to doubt the wisdom of such a course. The afternoon was slipping quite swiftly away.

His attention had been upon the playful leaping of the fish in the river whilst the tar warmed. A vicious spit from the fire made his eyes jerk that way. So the sudden great commotion in the water happened when he wasn’t actually looking there. His eyes shot back just in time to see a huge eye and head disappear under the surface amidst a series of very large ripples. So unexpected was such a sight, so absolutely alien to anything he had ever experienced, that he almost immediately began to doubt the evidence of his eyes.

Then his eyes widened. His catch-net was no longer there. No trace of it at all.

But then he was suddenly very aware of something else; he was going to have to relaunch his little craft which his imagination was now telling him was considerably smaller than the head he had only half seen. His legs quaked at the thought of stepping into the water once his repairs had been effected.

… … …

“Imagination is a wondrous thing. It can totally unman a man, some times.”

“I confess to being worried about learning to swim. How do you assure yourself there are no underwater monsters?”

Brid laughed, joylessly. “It has happened, Mar… er … Ling. But ’tis a very scarce happening. ’Tis known that there are several large bottom-dwelling things, ranging in size. The largest of those are a few Gogon that dwell in their lairs in the river, but ’tis said they usually appear only in the darker hours, only very occasionally in the afternoon.

“The so-called experts suggest that, if there is a particularly strong swarming of fish, then a Gogon could well grab the opportunity for an easy feed. But those creatures tend to concentrate upon fish for their prey; many a fisherman has reported that he has been left alone. Larger boats, particularly ones with many oars, HAVE been attacked, ’tis true. But mayhap one or two a year, at most. The same ‘experts’ suggest that that is in fact a size-challenge; they don’t seem to worry about little boats but can get somewhat territorial when the larger boats seem to threaten their ‘home waters’ if you like.”

Ling was almost sure Brid added “generally” to the end, but only very quietly.

Brid however changed the subject rapidly: “Now, Ling. Ling. Ling. Ling. Ling. Ling. We are rapidly approaching our destination. See there in the distance, off to our right, the side valley that comes down to join us on this river?”

“Aye, Brid, that I do.”

“Our future home village is just a mark or two further beyond where the tributary river pours into this one. There is a side stream, peaceful most of the time as it does not drain a large area. The village lies but half a mark up it.”

“Ah! Thank you for the information.”

“I have another question for you!”

“Oh yes?”

“What is your name?”

… … …

“Yes. I would say that undoubtedly, you saw a Gogon. I find myself jealous of you. All these years afloat, and I have never seen one. And have heard about only two!”

“It was HHHUUUGGGEEE! And the Gadi seemed to know they would be eaten by it. They almost leapt into my boat once I had relaunched! I just thought maybe I could catch one or two to give you and Count Olva this e’en, so I lowered a bucket over the side and I immediately got no less than six fish in there. I did it once more and got another four.”

“A bucket? And just twice? Dinner enough for ten folk? Surely you have betrayed yourself now. I have NEVER heard of any fisherman getting fish like that! I can only doubt your entire story now.” But his face was excitedly interested as he said that so Frang knew Yussuf wasn’t calling him a liar. “And I expect you didn’t see your monster again afterwards?”

“Ah!” replied Frang, “but I DID! I was a third or so of the way back to this side of the river, when I saw it swimming beneath me, going across my path. I can tell you plainly that this thing was as long as three tall men standing on their shoulders would be high. And it was rapid! To my eyes, and I cannot tell you why, I had the impression it was heading home. Going upriver. Somehow I deemed ’twas no longer hunting.”

“I would talk to you more about this amazing event, but you are running short of time for dinner with Count Olva. You had best be off and have a swift shower and change of clothes! Thank you for all the fish.”

… … …

Berm was with Orlet and Chara and an old servant named Janani. The three women were all crying heavily when he came into the room after his urgent knocking had told them he needed as immediate access as possible. All three were twitching their clothes into place as he strode towards them after Orlet had called: “Enter!”

“Can you get the Meeting Room ready to be used in the forenoon tomorrow? I wish to start properly with your idea then. We shall have an important visitor for discussions.”

The short silence was broken by the still-sniffling older woman: “How important? Is this to be full diplomatic dress, or is it just a meeting with locals?”

Berm was taken aback. This was obviously something that had not occurred to him. He stuttered a reply: “Janani, is this important?”

“Oh yes! If you want to create the right impressions. We would hav…” she broke off and looked searchingly at the two younger women. “Do either of you have any ‘best’ dresses? I should inspect them, if you do. Mayhap the house seamstresses would be happy to have something to do, and could alter some of the Countess’ dresses to fit. But not for today. Nor for the morn. At the earliest would be tomorrow afternoon.” She regarded the other two critically. “What you have on, would do at a pinch. Once cleaned. Hmmmm. Yes. We must clean those overnight at the very latest.”

She turned back to Berm: “Have your meeting in the morn, we are not overly shabby. But we shall need to tidy many things up afterwards. …” The others could see her going off in her thoughts so were not surprised when she said in a musing tone: “We can always add some jewellery.”

Berm looked at them all with wonderment in his face, before he shook his head bemusedly and strode to the door.

He turned and said: “We have the commander of the Faralmark forces coming for those discussions. When they saw the Yodans run away yesterday, the Faral forces decided to give chase. They crossed the river and helped our countrymen send the invaders packing. The entire day was both confusing and hectic. They now wish to know what they should do here in our land. The hotheads have been taken aback somewhat and hesitate to show force to our avowed friends.”

… … …

Frang had rushed back to the Representative’s home, showered and changed and presented himself to the dining room with less than a hand of moments to spare before the scheduled time for dinner. And then had to wait nigh on half a bell before Count Olva came bustling in, extremely energised. He wasted no time in imparting his news.

“The Yodans have left Upper Fanir, they have massed at the very short border from there into Lower Fanir. But Upper Fanir is once again free. I shall return to Faralan to see what I can do to help rebuild. Shall you accompany me?”

“Milord, I would be delighted to come with you. I am grateful for your kindnesses to me since I arrived. Shall we go overland, or by river?”

“The overland route is half the distance of the river route and the latter would probably still be quicker to get there, but far longer to get back. We shall ride.”

Frang’s face dropped. “But Milord, I have never ridden a frayen!”

“We shall have need of a baggage and food wagon, you could ride on that.”

“When do we depart?”

“Your wagon shall depart at the dawn bell. The driver knows where we shall make our halts, so we will be at first chasing after you, being able to travel so much more quickly. We shall cross the Fa at the nearest point, and make as much distance as we can. I doubt we shall gain Faralan for the next night, but we shall attempt so to do.”

“As you say, Milord.”

… … ...

“Mistress Orlet, you can now have this room. Janani conveyed the urgency we require to get you settled.” Berm waved his arm, the one not in the bandages of course, towards a door off the corridor. “Next to the one you girls have shared up to now, directly below the one the young Count used to have when he was here. Chara shall have that next room you have so far shared. There is a connecting door betwixt the two. Eginet shall share the rooms on the first floor with myself, of course. Wallis shall be next door to us. And Janani shall be close to you two girls, on the opposite side of the corridor. She correctly pointed out that you two girls should have separate rooms.”

… … …

Ling settled back on his blanket which had been laid over the pile of collected twigs and branches that kept the ground from sucking all his body heat away. His head was whirling as he absorbed all the new information that had been flooding in ever since the enthusiastic welcome the two deserters had received when they dragged their boat up the shore. Brid had been practically engulfed by a sea of arms and bodies.

Of course, he had been greeted as a stranger. But Brid’s influence had ensured there was no noticeable antagonism.

And when Brid explained that he would be staying at least until after the rains, the villagers promised to make a start on a more permanent dwelling for him, one that wouldn’t be washed away when the heavens opened in a few weeks and months time.

… … …

The next dawn breaks on a day filled with uncertainties

… … …

Frang shivered and wrapped the blankets tighter around himself. It had taken a little while to find the right combination of sacks and pillows to minimise the pains in his posterior, but now the daylight was flooding across the landscape there was much more for his eyes to process and thus distract him from his discomfort. The road they were travelling along was one of the better ones he had ever encountered in his short life and yet the driver assured him that the great Trade Routes were infinitely better. He found this hard to believe.

But his eyes never stopped drinking in all the new visions that opened up as they progressed. He was wishing, however, he had consumed a little more breakfast and pel.

Bibek was a town, city almost, that had been built at the confluence of the Faral River with the Sirrel and at the foot of a cliff, which was the nose of a crestline up in the hills. The wall of the Great Valley formed this nose, and, to the east of it and the crestline, the Great Valley floor spread until it met the Fa River. This last-mentioned river formed the border between Faralmark and Upper Fanir. Frang knew from his questions last evening that the road they were following reached the Fa River at the point where it curved furthest into Upper Fanir. They would cross the water there after waiting for the frayen riders to catch them up, and then cut straight across country towards Faralan.

They could have crossed the Fa straight into Faralan at its mouth, since that was where Faralan had been built, but that would have meant a long loop through Faralmark territory which would have almost doubled their journey distance, since the Faralmark by-roads were not the best maintained so their route would not have been the most direct.

… … …

Orlet opened her eyes, already feeling energised to deal with all that was required to be done. Events of the last evening had been momentous; fundamentally shifting her entire basis. But which had strangely settled her internal confusions sufficiently for her to sleep deeply for the first time for a long while.

Her eyes had been opened in another sense, indeed in two senses, the evening before as Janani had explained the importance of the right ‘level’ of female attire at various functions. The three women had ascended the stairs and entered the murdered Count and Countess’ suite. Chara with an enthusiasm and curiosity, the depths of which had surprised her. Janani though had to concentrate on supporting the sobbing Orlet, whose tears were flowing down her face in copious quantities.

A fourth woman had soon joined them; Soa, the Mansion’s head seamstress.

And then things had got serious.

Janani started the proceedings off, whilst Orlet dug deep and drew herself up, suppressing her sobs with great effort.

“Soa, thank you for attending so promptly. I must inform you that Mistress Orlet here has some very important information to give you but which MUST remain secret. We must first obtain an oath from you that you shall never impart what you are about to learn to anyone else. Everything you learn here in the next few moments must remain untold and anything in the future which is an obvious consequence of what is to be revealed must never be remarked upon or caused to be wider spread. Is that clear? If you are NOT prepared to so swear, then please turn around and depart immediately, find another seamstress, and then send HER here.”

The smile that Soa had shown when she entered dropped rapidly from her face. She looked at the three faces all awaiting her reply. She saw the tears of Orlet, the stern face of Janani and the more timid features of Chara.

Her own face registered a seriousness as the full import worked its way into her brain. She swallowed to make sure her voice was steady and then stated formally: “I swear to keep any revelations I learn in this room this evening secret and shall never reveal such until released from this oath. I shall never cause this knowledge to be spread wider.”

Janani and Chara turned to look at Orlet, who thought it through before nodding her acceptance. Janani then intoned: “Heard and witnessed.”

All then looked at Chara who was at first puzzled but then worked out for herself what she should say. She too uttered: “Heard and witnessed”.

Soa looked then to Orlet, who swallowed, grabbed a hand of each of the women flanking her, gulped even more deeply and said: “Mistress Soa, ’tis I – Count Darkwin.”

Soa gasped, and stretched forward to examine the girl – the boy – no, the girl more closely.

“Mistress Janani here recognised me as soon as she was introduced. ’Tis scarce surprising, after all she was my nurse for several years! I have to remain as Orlet for a little while lest enemies might send assassins. These are very confusing times. Steward Berm has arranged many things well. So that I can be present as decisions are made and I can learn the current climate without being recognised. To that extent, Mistress Janani has suggested that now I require a wider feminine wardrobe. And that …” here she had sniffed back tears once more “… my mother’s clothes could be used and altered to fit me and Chara here.”

“Ah!” said Soa as everything clicked into place in her brain.

And so the four women got to work taking the clothes from the cupboards, discussing what requirements might be, and so on. After a half bell or so they started giggling as Soa had asked Orlet to strip down and the false breasts and false hips were revealed. Soa said: “This makes things a little easier. Rather than cut the clothes, we could adjust your body to fit!”

“As long as my figure doesn’t have to change from day to day!”

Orlet felt a great weight lift from her shoulders as the matter was thoroughly discussed. The women all agreed that Orlet should remain Orlet. It would be too confusing for her to be Darkwin at times and Orlet at others. And the constant changing would have to be noticed sooner rather than later.

So from then on, it was agreed that she would always be addressed as Mistress Orlet. She was sent to fetch that box of Kalvo’s that contained some jewellery pieces, once Chara had remembered about it. Upon her return, she was shocked when the other women told her the value of what had been her mother’s adornments.

She soon found that she was enjoying herself, and was amazed to learn some of the differences between various materials.

The other three all looked at each other knowingly when one dress was slipped over Orlet’s head and she shivered and gasped in pleasure as the material settled around her. She twisted and turned to make the skirts flare and swirl.

In fact, that one memory was foremost in her mind when she awoke the next morning.

She ran through her scheduled tasks, wondering in the back of her mind if Soa could indeed produce the new dress promised for her to attend the morning’s meeting with Berm.

… … …

Brid also awoke well refreshed. He luxuriated in his bed for a few moments before he started to think about his and Mar… Ling’s journey.

But that triggered another thought about the welcome they had received. Brid groaned. This development had NOT been foreseen. Well, he ruefully acknowledged to himself, it HAD been foreseen, but just not here. He would have to find some way to calm things down.

But the first task today would be to get on with building somewhere for Ling to shelter. There would be no problem finding work for the lad, but he would have to have his own room. And the siting of that room might not be quite so easy after all.

Brid dragged on his clothes and sat on his cot to put on his shoes. He was thinking hard as he did so.

Brid surged to his feet and went out to find one or two of the village elders.

… … …

Orlet observed the discussions between Berm, Wallis and the four men from Faralmark. She tried to concentrate on what they were saying but it was difficult. She wanted to keep wriggling inside her new dress, so pleased was she with it. They had had to slightly reduce her breasts, which she was noticing now as the weight hanging around her neck on a broad ribbon band had been reduced slightly but noticeably after a little while; but her hip padding, hanging from her waist had been just the right size. She was still reeling from the sensory overload the sleek material had produced. She could NOT believe that just wearing something could produce these feelings she was now coping with.

She was standing to one side, ostensibly awaiting some sort of housekeeping orders but actually gaining much important information. Or at least she SHOULD be gaining important information. She forced herself to switch her concentration back to the men and what they were saying.

The Faralmark contingent was headed by someone named Woltass, who had introduced himself with the rank ‘Captain Of The Field’. With him were two other Captains and a Deputy Captain.

That Woltass was explaining what the Faralmark forces had done and would do, given permissions. “… turned left as they crossed the Fa and have blocked in some of the Yodans there. Those Yodans have now surrendered and we must decide what we shall do with them. They must be kept there as we have nowhere else to put them. We must prevent them from adding to the enemy forces down in Lower Fanir. First reports suggest that all other Yodan forces have now departed Upper Fanir and have retired either down or across the river.

“So we have split our forces into three. One keeping the encircled enemy cooped up in the upper reaches of the Fa, another chasing the enemy back into Lower Fanir and a third patrolling the countryside and towns, winkling out any pockets that may have remained. We shall keep a small reserve here in Faralan ready to be called upon should any of the three divisions need assistance. Perchance you could be good enough to suggest how and/or where we might accommodate them?”

… … …

“We must discuss the location of Ling’s shed!”

“I thought we had decided upon that last evening?”

“Ah! Yes, we had thought to put him up there at the end of the footpath to the road. But I detected a problem with that. Did you not see the way the young girls, and some of the young women, all were taken with his looks? If we are not careful, we shall have a war amongst those girls which will destroy the harmony of this settlement. And the young men who have been parading themselves for those girls won’t take kindly to a new rival.”

“Shiba-bubufu!”

“Precisely,” said Brid wryly, but he was also smiling as the man employed those ancient curse words. “If we put him up there away from nearly everyone, then some of the more forward girls will simply go there. And sooner or later, one will succeed in attracting his attentions. And she shall crow about it.

“But if we put him somewhere here in the village centre, then the girls will know they are unlikely to be unobserved. That might add a level of control.”

“I take your point, Brid.”

“As do I!” said the second elder.

The three men continued to make suggestions and their discussions were only halted when the subject himself turned up to find out what he could do to be of use to the community. Brid smiled to himself as he gradually withdrew into the background while the two others started to talk with Ling. Finally, the matter was decided.

“As you are here for a good few months yet, then mayhap you should learn more of how we exist here. Therefore, I deem that you should be in the centre of things at least for the next week. I propose therefore that we add a siding to my home here and I can teach you what you must needs know.”

“I would not wish to be a burden to you and your wife.”

“’Twould be no burden.”

“Well then, I deem I would appreciate that,” replied Ling after a quick glance to Brid, who nodded his approval. Brid gently moved away to go brakkycatching as Ling listened attentively to the elder’s further words.

… … ...

Frang was listening attentively to Count Olva as the little convoy made its way across the Upper Fanir countryside. The roadway was climbing a slight incline as the Count said: “… letters for Palarand. They departed a few days ago, I deem you shall recall. So the Margrave shall make his way downriver to Palarand and its capital. The river is held to be a free passage so he should be able to sail through the war zone. He shall leave Bibek tomorrow morning and overnight in Faralan as his first stop. I promised we shall find decent accommodation for him. Which I am assuming will not be too difficult, although I myself might be in some danger, if there are too many hotheads around, plotting to take over our country. Which places you yourself in a certain amount of danger, if you are associated with me.”

Suddenly, Frang had a taste of matters far larger than he ever imagined he would have to consider.

The road then reached the top of the incline they had been climbing. The views from there were astounding. Faralan could be seen, far off. The afternoon sun revealed several villages between them and the distant capital.

Olva sighed loudly. “We shall not have time to reach Faralan this e’en.”

He shot his eyes at Frang as the youngster said: “It seems I am to have several long-distance views today.”

Before they could continue this thread, a frayen rider could be seen coming faster than either man had ever seen before. Their conversation dried up as all watched in fascination. As the rider neared them, flashes of yellow identified him as belonging to the Valley Messenger Service. The rider slowed as he approached.

“Count Olva?” he called as came within earshot. He made it obvious he would press on if this was not the man he sought.

Frang learned another lesson just then. The Count looked around carefully, and the four servants all pressed closer to him, one keeping a watchful eye out in each direction. Still the Count did not answer. The Messenger realised first what was going on.

“If you are he, Milord, then I bear messages from Steward Berm in Faralan. Here is my Messenger Service accreditation.”

He proffered a document. Of which, it suddenly occurred to Frang, he should be the one to take delivery. If this WAS an attack then all the servants would require to be unencumbered. He reached for it and was surprised at the tremble in his hand.

But all was in order.

The Messenger was sent back to the capital with a message suggesting a time of arrival in the morning.

… … …

Brid returned to the village with a good catch of brakkies. They would add their delicate tastes to the tureens of fish and vegetable stew which would be cooked in the centre of the village. It was traditional that the entire village ate together once every week and tonight was the night for it. The weather was perfect for such a gathering.

This was normally a joyous occasion, with various musicians (of varying talent!) performing to the best of their abilities, with singing and poetry readings and tale-tellings. Even sometimes, some very amateur play acting.

Yes, there were disagreements in the village, some of many years standing, but all disagreements were suppressed for these evenings. Indeed, sometimes disagreements had been resolved under the influence of togetherness.

But tonight, there were strong negative undercurrents, felt by everyone.

… … …

It was doubly frustrating to Frang that they stopped for the night so tantalisingly near their destination. One because, had he been aboard his boat, they would have been there by now. And two, because he knew he could walk there and arrive before the midnight bell.

And his mattress was lumpy.

And he could have cooked a better meal that that which they were served in this run-down tavern.

But he would not have been able to carry the many baggages and documents and equipment that was loaded upon the wagon. And that would have been rude in the extreme to his host, the Count Olva who had been so generous to him.

And he also wanted to stay close to learn so much more about the current crises.

Everyone retired early.

… … …

Orlet had made a suggestion to Berm which was eminently sensible and had met with instant approval. Since the Count’s guards had all been murdered by the invading Yodans, then the guardhouse here at their mansion was sitting empty. The facilities there were offered to Woltass, who jumped at the opportunity.

The hidden advantages that would accrue to the more normal residents was that now there was some military presence to deter any casual attack that might have been planned.

Berm, however, told the astute Orlet that there was a disadvantage: “You do realise that this means you shall have to continue in your disguise all the while the soldiery are here?”

Orlet’s eyes twinkled a little as she replied: “I deem I could manage that. The advantages of being a mere servant, and a mere female on top of that, is giving me, us, much valuable information.” Several of those gathered were sure that that was not the complete reason.

The entire company were once again seated around the dining table for the evening meal when there came an interruption.

A Valley Messenger was ushered in and asked for Steward Berm. When he was identified to him, the messenger said: “I bring compliments from Milord, Count Olva. He has asked me to tell you that he expects to arrive in the morning, at around the third, maybe fourth bell. He has a small entourage with him, six persons in total, and expects to stay in Faralan for several nights. He would appreciate it if some good secure accommodation could be found.”

After declining to join them for a meal, the messenger soon departed and the diners turned back once more to their interrupted meal.

Only for a second interruption.

Captain Of The Field Woltass apologised for breaking in and then explained: “I have just had a message from my Margrave and felt you should know as soon as I can impart the news. He shall depart Bibek tomorrow at first light and come down the river to overnight here in Faralan. He wishes to inspect the arrangements for his troops, to have brief discussions with some form of authority and then he shall pass on on a long journey down to Palarand.”

“I thank you, Captain Woltass. I deem we can organise something, somewhere. Would you allow us time this evening to come up with a suggestion. We can discuss all possibilities and tell you of our decision first thing in the morning. You should know that Count Olva, our nation’s Representative to Faralmark, shall also arrive tomorrow; in the morning. He would be valuable in the discussions with the Margrave.”

“Indeed so, Steward. They are quite good friends I deem. I am pleased with this news.” Woltass declined an invitation to join them for the meal and graciously took his leave. The meal finished without further interruptions. Once the clearing up had been done and everyone else had retired to their rooms or indeed homes, the ‘family’ group gathered together in a sitting room.

And so something was born at that moment, a ‘tradition’ that survived for quite a long time. Berm, Wallis, Eginet, Chara and Orlet sat down and discussed what should be done, both domestically and locally and which soon expanded all the way up to nationally. Advisors were soon organised to add in their points. Amongst just the ‘family’ group, Orlet was decisive and indeed showed some strong leadership, but when others who were unaware of the disguise were present, it was Berm who took over.

Domestically, and in the short term, it was decided that the Margrave would be accommodated in the old Count and Countess’ suite, whilst Olva would take what had been Darkwin’s. Locally, some of the junior officers could be housed in their old home if the mansion’s barracks proved to be too small. It was assumed that both Count Olva and the Margrave would be travelling with some bodyguards who would have to be stationed near their principals.

… … …

Brid rose rapidly to his feet and started speaking in his command voice: “I am ashamed. I chose to come here because this was the friendliest village I knew. I was certain that a fellow fugitive would be welcomed, but you youngsters have managed to ruin the reputation within a day or two. This is a small hamlet but with a towering reputation; but one that has been crumbled so easily. Can anything now be as it once was?”

His voice softened a little. “You girls are all vying for attention from a young man who is already spoken for, and you should know that it is to that girl that he will return as soon as the rains have ceased, assuming this wretched war shall be over. You boys are scared that this newcomer will ‘steal’ one of your girls. Between the lot of you, and without stopping to ascertain any facts, you have managed to ruin the traditions of this remote village. Ling and I shall depart in the morning, at first light. It will be dangerous for us, but I do not want any part of this simmering hostility. We shall try to find somewhere else.

“Feel free to enjoy the brakkies I have contributed to this night’s feasts, but you will do so with neither Ling nor myself. We shall retire now, both to my hut. May your behaviour be under close examination while we disappear.”

With a sad shake of his head and a commanding hand gesture to Ling, he stomped off towards his little hut.

… … …

Today, there were more clouds than had been the case yesterday. Thicker and higher. It was obvious that the winds aloft were stronger, for the scudding clouds were zooming across the skies, and yet, here at ground level, the air was all but still.

… … …

With breakfast out of the way, Housemistress Orlet commanded all the available servants to help her clear out or secure belongings in Count Darkwin’s rooms and then in the master suite, ready for the temporary guests to arrive. They all worked hard before Orlet arranged a short break. Someone was sent for pel as the rest flopped down onto whatever chairs, sofas and beds were handy.

“Keep your knees together,” hissed Chara privately to Orlet who blushed and promptly fidgeted as though she was simply adjusting her skirts. Neither thought that anyone else had noticed.

In a remarkably speedy time, the tasks were completed and a pair of girls were assigned to making up the beds for their guests.

Janani took Chara and Orlet into Orlet’s room where she insisted they changed into nicer attire. She inspected Orlet’s hair and declared that, despite the many weeks since the Yodans had so viciously attacked, it wanted still enough length to make a convincing female style. So she would have to keep wearing one of the headscarves with the hair sewn into.

Janani selected the dresses that both should wear for the imminent arrival of Count Olva. She told Orlet to wear the jewellery found in Kalvo’s box, and she found some other trinkets for Chara.

And then they sat back to await the arrival.

… … …

“You look tired,” observed Count Olva as the small party made their slow way along the road towards the capital.

“I slept not well, Milord. The mattress seemed to get harder and lumpier each time my eyelids closed.”

“And did you have any hard thoughts? Hard as in difficult rather than hard as in mattress lumps?”

“I did indeed, Milord. All that I have learnt in these days and hours have opened my eyes to a far wider world than that I thought I knew so well.”

“Would you be so minded as to tell me some of those thoughts of yours?”

And so a deep discussion on many levels and events ensued, with both parties surprising and impressing the other as the time flew by.

Both were surprised when they realised they had entered Faralan already.

… … …

Brid thrust open the door to go and wash in the stream and promptly stopped as he became aware of a delegation of the younger men outside.

With a noticeable degree of bashfulness, their appointed leader said: “Good morning Brid.” He raised his voice slightly as he then called a greeting to Ling. “Good morning, Ling.” He swallowed and then rushed into an obviously prepared speech. “We are come to apologise for the events of last evening. You were correct in your assessment and we and the girls are suitably admonished. We are all on extra chores and we find that really we have gotten away lightly. We are here this morn to beg you to reconsider. Before you were conscripted, your contributions to village life, Brid, were much valued.

“And we can only assume that the excellent pukan music we heard from here last night was produced by Ling. Mayhap we could persuade him to teach some of us?”

… … …

“Steward Berm!”

“Milord Olva! ’Tis a pleasure to meet you once more. It has been quite a while. But I must warn you, if certain factions know you are here, then plans might be drawn to … dispose of you. You, as one of only two known-to-be-surviving Counts, would represent a severe danger to several of the would-be-warlords that shall arise, all vying to take control of our land.”

“You seem to be well ensconced in this fortified mansion, though?”

“Indeed Milord! We have made it a rock, nigh-on impregnable. The surrounding houses and businesses are all loyal to Count Darkwin and none may get through the gates without hindrance.”

The Ambassador coughed slightly and half shivered, which immediately made Berm aware that he had been somewhat remiss.

“May I offer you some refreshment, Milord? I am sorry I have been slow to do so!”

“Some pel would be a boon right now, I deem.”

Berm turned and snapped his fingers at the serving girl standing against the wall to the left of the crackling fire in its large fireplace. Orlet was initially annoyed at the finger-snapping but swiftly realised that it would add to her disguise, for surely the Steward would never snap his fingers at anyone important.

“Master Berm?” she said as she approached and curtsied respectfully.

“Orlet, would you be so kind as to arrange for some pel for our guests, and mayhap some pastries?” he asked, turning his head once more to his chief guest.

“Some pastries would be nice,” acknowledged Olva.

Berm turned once more to the girl and nodded a confirmation.

Orlet curtsied neatly and turned away, her ample figure demanding attention from the men all gathered there.

“Put your tongue away, Frang,” growled Berm, once the door had closed behind her. “She is not for you. Trust me on that one. And anyway you are spoken for, your mother tells me. Housemistress Orlet is employed by Count Darkwin here in his home while he recovers in a secret location. She too is spoken for - elsewhere.”

Frang blushed but looked Berm unflinchingly in the eye. Who looked back, inspecting the lad more closely. “You have matured in the past week or two. I see a more manly carriage, signs of more self-confidence. Congratulations.”

He turned back to Olva. “Milord, we are ready for your inspection, as we said downstairs. Things are still uncertain generally in the country but I have managed to persuade several influential people that the Count Darkwin is currently too ill but is still very much alive.”

“Indeed, Steward. I did understand the cryptic message you sent with Frang here. And if I deem it practical, if all conditions are in order, then I would indeed be prepared to rule until the Count achieves his majority. I would be prepared to swear an oath to that effect. But I feel from all that you have said, the country is not yet free from turmoil. And ...” he broke off into thought.

“And?” asked Berm after a lengthy pause.

“Yodan forces are fighting on downvalley, according to my latest bulletins and reports. Some of my information sources suggest that even the Yodan populace are very unhappy with their leaders. They feel rebellious. There will probably be a revolt in their own country. That shall spell the end of their … vindictive rule. The end is in sight, it can be in a short while or in a long while, but it IS over.”

“I deem that right now I can be of more service to this country if I return to Faralmark, where my communications are already all set up and where their ruler, Simbran, has been very open with me. You have things in a certain amount of control here, and I shall be able to learn more when I am up in Bibek. Were I to remain for the moment, then my reports would be cut off and any learning of what is going on around would be silenced.

“If the young Count appears, then I shall of course rush back and help him. I deem I should stay for a few days only, then return to Faralmark.”

“Talking of the Margrave Simbran, you should be aware that he is due to spend the night here in this mansion tonight as well.”

“Do you say? This is intriguing. I do know him very well actually.”

“So said Woltass when he told us last evening. Apparently the Margrave is under passage to deepest Palarand and will inspect Faralmark forces here in Faralan this evening before discussing matters with whomsoever he finds that might be in some sort of control in Upper Fanir.”

The men discussed the situation for a moment or two more, whilst Wallis and Frang talked about family matters and what had happened in the uprising.

Just then, Orlet returned with a large tray of pastries and sufficient empty mugs for everyone. She placed them on the table and turned prior to leaving again to fetch the warm pel.

Frang had broken off in mid-sentence as his eyes watched the girl.

Berm shook his head at Frang’s behaviour while Olva narrowed his eyes, concentrating keenly on the girl as she left the room.

The previous discussions continued until Orlet returned with the pots of warm liquid. Again, there was a silence as the men all watched the girl cross the room. Her twitching buttocks and wobbling breasts had quite clearly touched something inside Frang. His eyes did not leave the girl who showed no sign of having noticed.

Berm signalled to Wallis that he should usher the boy out, leaving just Berm, Eginet, Olva and the girl in the room.

The silence stretched until the door closed behind the two, Frang sending a last lingering look at Orlet, who did notice that time. She blushed and looked quite flustered as she cast her eyes downward. Her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her neck, the coloured glass on her finger and that on the chain competing for attention.

… … …

“You both are most gracious. We apologise for our younger ones once more.”

“We shall see if the apology lasts from them, but we are prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Indeed so. If the village evening next week is also disrupted, then we know that we fathers will apply harsh corrective actions.”

“When we landed, I was pleased with the reaction and the welcome back. I noticed that Ling was also accepted with many words such as ‘Of course’ and ‘Your friend is our friend’ and the like. Not a week has passed, and the story is now radically different. We didn’t even get round to selecting a spot for Ling to occupy, let alone start the building of it. You will forgive me if I take your words with caution. I would prefer to leave rather than disturb further our village traditions.”

“That’s harsh – but, I confess, fair. We…”

“SOLDIERS! On the trade route!”

The men swung round to pay attention to the youth who was running urgently towards them. As urgently that was as the narrow path through the marshy ground allowed.

… … ...

Olva looked at Berm, then glanced at Eginet. Berm reassured him that he could go ahead and speak his mind in her presence.

Olva led the two adults across to the fire just by where the girl was standing.

“Master Berm, I understand now a lot more than I did earlier. You have indeed done well, you and your wife here.”

He turned to Orlet, and looked her straight in the eye: “Milord, how can I serve you? How may we work together for our land’s benefit?”

Orlet’s eyes opened wide. “How…?” Her face paled.

Berm took over rapidly. “Milord Olva, ’tis difficult enough for Count Darkwin to maintain such a disguise. We are trying to help him by NEVER referring to her as anything but in the female form. She has daily lessons in deportment and mannerisms and we address her as Mistress Orlet at all times, that she might become fully accustomed to answering as such.

“I should point out that had we even begun to understand the underlying difficulties we were, and indeed are, creating for ourselves, then a differing path would have been taken. The more we do it, the more we need to continue doing it.

“But that is now in the past, and must be lived with. All those in our family know of the pretence, naturally. My brother does too, and here in the mansion we required another to be brought into the circle of those aware. Once out in public, as it were, then we could not allow my daughter to continue to have to react with someone who wasn’t actually female …” Eginet nodded vigorously “… in the most intimate areas. We could oversee all that when we were in our small home, but not here. So Darkwin’s old nurse Janani has been included. Others might suspect, just as you did, but none have actually asked or declared. Oh – and we needed one of the seamstresses to create a passable wardrobe for the girls. She too is aware of the deception. And is oathsworn to secrecy.

“But we have a great advantage with doing things as we are. In this way, Dar… Orlet, can be present at most meetings and learn much without being obvious. Indeed, she may hear things that people – who naturally dismiss servants as being of no consequence – say outside of the formal meetings! We have discussions amongst ourselves and I am happy to say that I find myself implementing nearly all of … Orlet’s suggestions. On occasion, Eginet and/or myself have managed to explain other things and Orlet has agreed with our proposals.”

That thought had obviously not occurred to Olva beforehand, and he started thinking hard about it. All were aware of what was happening and gave him time to contemplate.

… … …

“They’re not Yodan,” hissed Brid to his two companions. “Those colours must be from Pakmal. Quite rapid reaction from them, surprisingly. It’s only years since we invaded their territory up the Watercourse valley.”

“You must know more than we!”

“The Pakmali leader is renowned for shilly-shallying. He is laughed about for his indecision. To see those troops here must mean that things are going even worse for Yodan forces than I had heard.”

He lapsed back into thought.

The trio watched the troops continue along the Trade Route. About one third of the way along the column, someone pointed out the side road that led down to Klyhill. A man swung his frayen round and rode back to an obviously senior officer, judging by the colours and plumes he was wearing. The officer’s group all stopped and gathered round as another trotted up brandishing a large piece of parchment.

This was obviously a map as subsequent events showed.

The trio watched the several moments it took for a decision to be reached. A small squad of two hands or so was detached from the main body and they turned into the road, whilst the main force continued. The trio crawled back slowly before standing up again when shrubs and trees obscured them. They broke into a trot and headed back to the village. In order to accommodate wagons across the marshy areas, the road made a long loop, studded with frequent bends. The narrow and twisting path the trio were following, which involved a fair few hops across boggy soil, was only about one third of the distance, so they knew they would be back to the village well before the military detachment reached there.

… … …

Lunch was cleared away, Count Olva having declared himself satisfied with his accommodation, and Woltass adding his approval of the arrangements for his men. The rest of Olva’s travelling group, including Frang, had been shown to Berm and Eginet’s old home. They ate there.

Woltass went off to gather the very latest status to report to Margrave Simbran later.

That left just Berm, Wallis, Eginet, Chara and Janani with Orlet and Olva.

It was Orlet who started the discussion: “Milord Olva, how did you know?”

“Milord ... Housemistress … oh this is very difficult.”

“And how difficult do you deem it is for me? ‘Housemistress’ is fine, indeed is a must for these troubled times. I am doing my best to live my life outwardly as a humble Housemistress here in this mansion. So, for now, no more ‘Milord’s.”

“Very well, Mistress Orlet. So shall it be. ’Tis easier for my brain to cope with the visions I see. And you are indeed most convincing.”

“But what gave me away?”

“The ring you are wearing, and the necklace,” he replied with a grin. All the others gasped. Orlet looked quizzically at him and was about to ask him to expand upon that statement when Olva chose to do so himself. “They were a present to your mother.”

“How could you know that?”

“The present was from me!”

“Ah!”

“That made me observe you most closely. And there were tiny little indicators, tiny little mannerisms that were just off for a natural female. The use of fingers and wrists for example. A certain clumpiness in your gait; you are a little heavy on your heels from time to time. Women are generally lighter on their feet than you demonstrated, although so much of you is very good indeed. When you sit, you are slow to close your knees together. Women tend to often close them and then sit, smoothing their skirts under their rears as they do so. Or they bring them together immediately their weight is settled. A hand tugs the hem of her skirt, and smooths the skirt when she stands again. As I said. Little mannerisms.

“On the other hand, your shape is excellent and you have managed to learn to move it femininely.” He laughed. “Poor Frang is much taken with your shape and your … wiggle.”

Everyone laughed at that, except Orlet who just blushed and confessed: “I don’t know what I should do about that.”

Olva grinned. “You should do nothing differently, I deem. Every young girl must learn to handle such situations and I am sure young Chara here will teach you how to keep him, and other men, at arm’s length - until such time as you want them closer.”

This just made Orlet blush more.

Berm joined in then: “I will keep him away as much as I can. Perhaps I should send him back to his family in the east.”

Olva jumped in there. “I must speak with you about that. I am formulating some plans for that young man. He has impressed me greatly.”

… … …

“Impressive!” The elder showed his appreciation of Ling to Brid.

The village had received sufficient warning to slip into their well-rehearsed procedures to minimise interference from outsiders. The basic tactic was for the younger men to take to the waters in their boats and to disappear onto the big river, hiding in various spots amongst the river bank reeds. This left the older men and the women and children, most of whom were hidden in huts to try to minimise explanations, to meet the soldiery. Brid took it upon himself to check all around that no tell-tales had been overlooked.

Ling had swiftly grasped that he had no boat to escape on so would have to remain to play the injured soldier returned home. He sent all the boatmen to their huts to gather belongings while he saved valuable time by lining up their boats for them.

As soon as the ‘escapers’ had departed, he and Brid had swiftly bandaged themselves, with dirty bandages of course. Brid slipped a stone into one of his shoes to ensure he limped heavily, while Ling grabbed a stave to represent a crutch.

They had a hand of moments to attend the arrival of the troops, during which time the elder men hid anything of value, rendering the entire scene one of simple poverty, with the villagers barely capable of eking out an existence. All acted surprised when the soldiers suddenly appeared round the bend. Two of the women dropped the heavy cauldron they were apparently carrying up to the fireplace from the river’s edge. The water burbled out and spilt into the ground as the two hugged each other, appearing for all the world to be terrified. Brid knew that they actually had short swords hidden about themselves ‘just in case’.

The men swept to the centre of the village, eyes darting everywhere, on the lookout for an ambush.

One pointed at Brid and the elder: “Who’s in charge here?” he demanded with an exaggerated clarity of accent which suggested that either he thought they were too stupid to speak properly, or they would not understand him if he spoke normally.

The elder piped up: “That there’d be me, then. Who be you?”

“My name is Ufo. I have the honour to be an underofficer in the Pakmali Army of Liberation.”

“What be ye wanting?” Brid briefly wondered if the elder was overdoing the simpleton-speaking-in-a-country-accent act.

“You Yodans have created far too much trouble for others in the Great Valley and ’tis time we other nations put you in your place. We are searching for sign of your forces.”

“Pssshhh. Them belong to the Overlords, Maker rot their souls.” He hawked and spat on the ground. “Not seed any of them for months, ever since thems surprised us and conscripted all our fightable men. ’Ad no notice of where them be, or even IF they be. ’Cept for these two what is come back, too damaged to help around the village.” Another hawk, another spit. He waved his hand. “Feel free to look around. And if yer can suggest a way we can make life easier, then we’ll listen.” With that he stumped over to a log they used as a bench and sat down grumbling to himself.

Across to one side, another of the older men flung open the door to a hut and gestured the Pakmalis to enter with a sweep of his arm and a deep bow.

… … …

Berm opened the door to the meeting room with a deep bow, and a twinkle in his eye. Olva too offered a deep bow along with a twinkle. Orlet made a very credible deep curtsey and twinkled back at the two of them with a very feminine look upwards through her eyelashes. A little shiver ran through her as she found it suddenly quite exciting. It was becoming all so thrilling on an unaccustomed level.

“Mistress, you had better not do that with Frang around. He might burst!” Olva said as he shook his head. She blushed again, but secretly hugged to herself a little warm feeling deep inside.

She went to close the door behind the three of them but Janani coughed meaningfully. The three leaders looked perplexed.

Janani said: “A single young woman alone with two men?”

Their brows cleared and Orlet beckoned Chara. Janani coughed once more. They all looked again in her direction.

The old nurse looked around and lowered her voice: “A single young woman alone with THREE men?”

Eginet said simply: “I have duties elsewhere right now. And need Wallis’ assistance if Berm is going to be tied up here.”

“Very well,” said a decisive Orlet, “Janani, you should also attend.”

So the conference started with five people in attendance.

It started, but not in the way that Orlet had expected.

“Mistress Orlet, I would fain learn the story of your remarkable deliverance.”

“Milord Olva, ’twere simplicity in itself. The Yodans overwhelmed the house guards and rushed up to kill my parents and myself. One little fellow, named Kalvo, swung a stone club and broke my father’s knee. As he went down, the club descended on his head. Mother went to hold him, to nurse him somehow, to be with him, although I now realise he must have been killed instantly for his brain matter was exposed through the shards of bones. Kalvo’s club descended on her head with just the same sickening results. He was bent over her, taking her necklace and rings, and my father’s rings when I lost my senses, I must confess. I ran over to him in a high temper and beat his back with my fists whilst I scrabbled to get at his sword.

“I shall never forget the laugh with which he simply plucked me from his back and threw me into my mother’s lifeless breasts. He raised his club and I remember it descending.

“The next thing I knew was months later when I awoke, and I was wearing a dress, and my head hurt and my shoulder hurt and these strangers were looking after me. ’Twas all highly confusing. And then someone came in that home, someone I recognised. For ’twas my father’s steward Berm.

“And thus began my education in becoming a girl. And the re-education my muscles and limbs required after lying abed for so long.”

Berm spoke then. “There was just a little more to it than that. I myself was knocked unconscious off to one side of the room, but came to to see the Countess being murdered. I watched as the young Darkwin rushed across in his forlorn attempt. I winced as the club was raised. That Kalvo was obviously an expert wielding it. I learnt later that he named himself Kalvo Skullcrusher. Just then a Yodan officer called out and ordered all the men down to the gates, telling them of a counter attack coming in. Kalvo’s attention was taken from his blow and he merely glanced the side of Darkwin’s head, crashing into his shoulder instead. But the blow was sufficient to bring forth blood from the head. And brain matter from his parents had splashed over the lad. Kalvo assumed he had done his usual efficiently murderous job. I have my suspicions as to who the Yodan officer was, for he was never actually seen and the soldiers found no counter attack when they got to the gates.”

Everyone looked at him, their eyes demanding more information.

“Soon after that, one of the Yodan guards spoke with me privately. He claimed he was sickened by the Yodans’ behaviour and wanted to establish some communications methods so that we were kept informed of anything he could think of that we would need to know, as far as his sources could stretch that is. We soon found out he was able to be trusted and our neighbourhood was the safest part of the entire town from then on, within reason. He had to show occasionally that he was a Yodan patrolman, so some things had to be punished.

“He was passionate about bringing Kalvo to justice for his crimes, for Kalvo loved to molest the local girls too, and our man swore he would not rest until Kalvo was dealt with. He informed us at the end when Kalvo would be alone and unlikely to be missed immediately. I confess to you now that we combined together a group of almost two hands. Kalvo was immobilised and we each took a turn stabbing him. After three rounds, it was obvious the scum was dead but none of us know the actual blow that killed him.”

A great silence filled the room then, until Count Olva broke it: “And what happened to your informant? Was he able to get away safely?”

“That he was. We kitted out a boat for him to take and watched as he rowed away. He had a young lad as his new partner so we put on a show for the lad of chasing down to the riverside when they took the boat, just in case the pair were caught by the Yodans. Then the lad could only report his innocence. I know not if they escaped the Yodan warships. I’m sure that Brid was canny enough to do that.”

… … …

Brid watched the soldiers ride away. They had conducted a cursory inspection but found nothing – for the simple reason that there was nothing to find. The elder, Brid and Ling had trotted up the narrow path across the tussocks in the marsh to the top of the slight hill that gave their village its name. There, amongst the trees and shrubs were a hand of huts which looked to be in poor repair – but which were actually well appointed inside. For this elevated area was where the village retreated to when the rains raised the river level to make the lower area awkward.

From that vantage point, the watchers could see the entire sweep of the wagon road all the way to the distant Trade Road. By the time the trio got there, the soldiers had managed maybe a third of the way. They were not hurrying which was probably an irritation to the large detachment of the army that had been left to await them.

But even as they watched, that large detachment boiled into a heap of activity and mounted up before trotting off to the north along the Trade Route. Brid didn’t need to be told what had happened. Obviously the van of the army had found someone to fight.

They kept their observations up until the ones that had visited their village reached the main road and were briefed by the soldiers who had been left behind to convey orders. They all then hurried off to the north as well.

The trio then returned to the village, Ling and the elder not trying to get anything out of a deeply pensive Brid.

Brid remained quiet the entire evening, letting the others do their returns and tidying up all around the village. He grunted a few times when Ling asked him if he wanted anything and he muttered some thanks when one of the women served him a platter for his evening meal.

Everyone just shrugged their shoulders and left him to his own devices. Occasionally he would mutter words that didn’t seem to make much sense when considering a connection, but such were the gaps between them that no-one even tried to string a sentence together with them.

“Island”.

“Trade Route”.

“Big battle?”

“Peasants ready?”

“What happens after?”

… … …

“What shall we do afterwards?” asked Orlet.

Their discussions had been long and very wide-ranging. Orlet’s education had been expanded beyond belief. Eginet had rejoined them a little later while Berm, Olva, Janani and Chara had all joined Orlet from the start; they had been seated now for several bells and the broad outlines of governing Upper Fanir had been agreed upon.

Olva would be pleased, nay proud, to be Orlet/Darkwin’s mentor and guide. He would first have to leave to return to Bibek, there to close down his organisation and affairs. Berm and Eginet could continue, with Wallis, to exert control and educate the young noble. Olva would return as soon as circumstances permitted.

“You have managed very well so far. You have established this place as a centre of authority and there are welcomed foreign troops billeted here to afford you some extra protection to that afforded by your outside supporters. At the moment, I deem the various parties vying for a larger say in matters are all squabbling with each other, which gives you time to establish even more of a presence. I shall return from Bibek probably in a couple of weeks.”

“You speak wisely, Milord.”

Orlet then piped up with a question or two: “This Margrave that shall arrive shortly. How do we address him? Should he be met formally at the dock? And …” she said with a faint blush whilst waving her hands down her body “… should he be informed of my - what shall we call it - duality?”

“That last is a tricky question that requires some thought, I deem. The first, however, is easy to answer. He is referred to as ‘Your Grace’ until such time as he relaxes the formalities. As for the second question, then I deem it would not only show him honour, but it would also bestow an importance upon both yourselves and upon him when the citizenry see his reception.”

Berm and Eginet nodded sagely at that last point and began an open conversation about the composition of the welcoming committee. Olva also agreed to go along as they all agreed he was the sensible one to make the initial introductions. Of course, the Faralmark forces would also be present, so a messenger was despatched to find Woltass or a senior aide to ask what arrangements THEY wanted.

It was decided that it would be too difficult to have Orlet also in the welcoming party. She would have to wait until Margrave Simbran the Younger was settled into place here in the Mansion. And, reluctantly, they all agreed to keep Count Darkwin’s presence a secret from the visitor. Olva had expressed his confidence that Simbran could handle the revelation, but revealing it might mean too many other ears got wind of the ruse.

… … …

“So Ling, shall you travel with me? On a map, it seems as if the river goes straight towards the north-east, but there are constant curves, sweeps, sandbanks and so on that our route shall be far from straight. It then curves to the right and heads north through several bends before it splits on the point of what used to be Lower Fanir island. I shall there follow the right fork, keeping the pure Yodan shore on our right hand. I know not how far we shall travel, but almost as soon as the river comes together once again, there lies Yod City. Which might be tricky to negotiate. And beyond the City are also several disputed pieces of land. I suspect that they – which lie opposite your home – shall also be difficult to get through, with so many forces arrayed there.”

“And your mission is to persuade the Yodan peasantry to rise up against their rulers? You are engaging in sedition?”

“For a concerted action at the right time, yes!”

“Then indeed I shall accompany you! I approve of your sentiments, I acknowledge the dangers of our actions and will actively assist you!”

“Not to mention that you shall thus travel a little nearer your home, huh?”

Ling laughed. “Well there is that bonus too.”

… … …

“And where IS Mistress Orlet, Mistress Chara?”

Chara coloured slightly but answered swiftly and surely: “She has some matters of a female nature to deal with so early this morn.” She then clapped her hand across her mouth and coloured even more.

“Excuse me for embarrassing you. My impressions last night were that the two of you are very close friends. I was surprised that the Housemistress had not turned up to escort me to Count Darkwin but had sent you to do so in her place. I had not anticipated that my feeble attempts at light conversation as we make our way to the Count would be of a more … intimate nature than I intended.”

“Your Grace, it is I who must apologise. Mayhap I should have concocted some story rather than just blurt out the truth as I did. But alas my brain is just a feeble woman’s and I could not conjure a sufficiently intricate story so swiftly. And you have been so nice and considerate with us, I forgot for a heartbeat that you were not a part of our family.”

“I find myself inordinately pleased that you could consider it so. But come, Mistress. Let’s put this behind us. Tell me what you can then of living under the yoke of Yod.”

“There was one patrolman,” she started bitterly, “we all particularly disliked, not simply because it was he who had murdered Count Herik and Countess Silet, but because he was generally a most unpleasant man. Several of the girls around here were assaulted and their fathers could do nothing about it. The man himself had a dreadful way of undressing you as he stared at you, practically drooling.”

“Oh! How dreadful. I suppose you must have been happy when the Yodans left so swiftly?”

Chara coloured and looked uncomfortable. Somehow, Simbran knew she was lying to a certain extent when she said; “Oh yes, Your Grace. That was a happy day indeed.” And yet there could be no denying that the last sentence brought her both great joy and yet also great sadness.

“Curious!” he thought and then opened his mouth to try to ascertain a little more. He had no time however to take that conversational thread any further as they had by then arrived at Darkwin’s door.

Somewhat hurriedly, Chara knocked perfunctorily and ushered the Margrave in, saying to the Margrave: “Someone else will await you, Your Grace, when you come out, and shall bring you to the breakfast room.”

Chara then performed the introductions and scuttled out of the darkened room almost without stopping.

“Very curious!” thought the Margrave briefly before concentrating upon his latest surroundings. He looked around and saw that the room was darkened to a far greater extent than he had anticipated. The figure of the Count was sitting hunched in a well-padded chair off in one corner, wrapped in what appeared to be several blankets. Behind the chair rather than beside it, a single candle was alight, whilst two other corners had flickering flames on long handles. In a wider part of the room, better illuminated, Count Olva raised a hand in greeting.

Simbran, as politeness dictated, addressed himself first to the beshadowed invalid: “Good freshness, Milord Darkwin. And Milord Olva.” he added as he swung his head around to the second Count.

Darkwin replied, in a voice that somehow sounded rusty, as if its use had been recently very infrequent: “Your Grace, so kind of you to come and visit. I am so sorry for the lack of hospitality on my part, but that wretched Yodan who killed my parents, slammed both my head and my shoulder. I am improving but it all seems so very slow, not like the active life I had before all this.”

“Milord, I am grateful that you have found the time and strength for me. I will keep this visit to pleasantries if you desire, but there are some weighty state matters that mayhap we should discuss. I will, with your permission and if you so desire, delay these until my return, for I am underway on a river trip down to Palarand. I could call back in here on my journey home and provide details of those matters I discover whilst down there with King Robanar? Or we might profitably spend a little while now discussing what I may be able to do for you whilst I am down there. I shall be meeting most of the leaders of the lower Sirrel countries.”

“Ah! I understand. Hmmm, I should have liked to have a little longer to think on these matters and to discuss them with my advisors.” Olva and Darkwin exchanged looks. “So mayhap, we could indeed await your detailed report upon your return. My country has been gravely wounded by the invaders, and I must first think of how we are going to rebuild and regain strength – just as I must do myself.”

“A most sensible reaction, Milord. Should I discuss anything in greater detail with Milord Olva before I depart this very morn?”

“I deem that maybe ’twould be a sensible thing to do, but only if you have time.”

“Yes, time is so very important these days, is it not?”

“When the Yodans were here, it seemed that time had slowed down and we all suffered as if in a durance most vile. But even those hard times came to an end, so I deem we have all learned far more about patience than ever we expected to. So mayhap, when you are with the others downvalley, you could ascertain just what they intend to do to prevent anything like these Yodan atrocities from ever reoccurring.”

… … ...

And so it came to pass that Simbran left Darkwin to his suffering shortly after that, and he and Olva had some discussions about the depths of various political matters and thoughts as to the progress of the war. Breakfast was scarcely noticed by the two as they continued their dialogue.

No more mention was made of the domestic arrangements in the Count’s Mansion and soon the passengers of the Spirit all gathered on the jetty next to the vessel. It came as a small surprise to Olva when Simbran had a quiet word with him just then.

“That housekeeper business intrigues me, Olva.”

The Count’s brain worked feverishly. He was oathbound not to reveal more of the Orlet story and yet he felt the Margrave might spend a while trying to get to the bottom of the matter. His long association with the Margrave meant that he knew the man exceeding well.

Olva made sure the Margrave saw him look carefully around before replying in a whisper: “Your Grace, the natural leader of Upper Fanir is now Count Darkwin. Several ambitious men might try to dispose of him, so his very whereabouts, indeed his very existence, has been kept in doubt. I assure you that Darkwin is in fact making some good decisions.”

“Yes, that was my impression when we met him earlier this morn, before we all broke our fasts – but I still understand not how the young Count, who according to Steward Berm may be shortly elevated to be a Duke, can make such decisions. How can he have knowledge of each of the sides of an argument?”

“Ah! Very good. You have picked up on that. Well, I can happily tell you that the Count is kept informed in great detail because every meeting of importance, every word spoken, reaches his ears via Mistress Orlet.”

Simbran’s eyes widened. “Ah!” he breathed. “Clever!”

Olva was left uncertain as to whether or not the Margrave had actually understood the full picture.

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