Lon and Saeya entered The Working Place together to find Zed busy stamping flasks and Mel and Val already concentrating on their tasks at the table. The sun was hot and the air moist from the dribbling wall at the back of the all-natural gable.
Yet with Melcart so close, Lon didn't feel like talking. He merely nodded at the others and took his place, ready to do his part. He said hello to Zed and accepted a jar of purcloine to start.
It was another hot day and soon their fingers were slick with sweat. Zed asked them to be careful not to smear the labels. Lon lifted a jar and studied again the strange alphabet printed on the paper. Was this Calbian? Or was it some other strange tongue? It was all lines and loops, dots, and dashes; Zed said it was the directions for how to use the remedy.
"Did you sleep okay Lon?" Melcart asked.
"I slept fine."
The old sage looked at both males and became aware of the tension.
"We looked for you last night, but nobody could find you," the rogue continued, mercilessly. "You should tell someone before you disappear like that."
"Where did you sleep?" Val asked. She didn't suspect anything.
"Nearby," Lon replied. That was true. The sunflower patch was just above the grotto. Mel snickered.
Lon didn't say anything, but this was hard to ignore. His skin blushed. He saw Valari and Saeya trade glances but thankfully they didn't smile.
The young lad closed his eyes to concentrate and complete another infusion. He would not play the angry rooster, he would simply outperform the miscreant instead.
Without appearing to watch each other, Lon and Melcart competed. The two young masters each kept a running count and it became a clandestine struggle for dominance. For the next half hour nobody spoke and the crew worked their way through the top three cases. The white-haired lad was pleased to note that his output was about twenty percent greater than his rival's contribution. But what made it even more satisfying was that Mel knew it too and that explained why he begged off mid-morning to go for a swim when it was still too early for such dalliance. He was losing and so he wanted to escape and ignore the secret trial and pretend it never happened.
The silence remained after Mel left the table. The troublemaker splashed about in the pool and it was peaceful until the brunette girl broke the silence.
"Why no mail this morning?" Valari asked.
Zed hesitated and that meant he probably knew something. Everyone watched him for clues. Mel returned dripping wet.
"There's an issue in port," Zed said. "Certain events may have temporarily disrupted the rider."
All four masters stopped what they were doing and searched him for more information. He continued about his business and ignored their spontaneous work stoppage.
"What's happening in town?" Val finally asked. Zed pretended he didn't hear the question.
"Croleans?" Lon ventured, and everyone looked at him. That was the first time he'd mentioned the Crol and they all likely wondered how much he knew about them? Or who they were.
The old medico must have realized that he had to tell his staff something of the world beyond the walls. "Yes. Crols patrol the road to..." Zed started to say but then he noticed the candle had burnt low and he retrieved a fresh pillar and lit the new wick. Saeya cleared her throat to indicate her impatience.
"...The fish ponds," Zed continued. "It's not quite in the port you understand," the bearded medico began and his young audience perked up to glean as many kernels as possible. "But it's where I deliver my quota. Last evening, I was stopped by two swads. Meanies. I guess they must have been Crols."
"What did they want?" Lon asked.
"They wanted to check my wagon of course. They'd paw the medicine. Oh could you imagine?" Zed shook his head and frowned as he imagined it.
"What happened?" Lon asked.
"They got confused and wandered away," Zed replaced the candle. Saeya smiled and shared a look with Valari. Melcart also pretended to understand and he laughed aloud, awkwardly.
"You're sure they were Crols?" Lon asked.
"Oh, of course. There are five galleys in the harbour," Zed related the information casually but the news made Lon feel sick. Even though its what he'd expected, it still shocked him to hear it spoken aloud as if his mortal enemies were just another group of tourists.
"Did you see Minister Horne?" Lon asked.
"I saw only those two dog's paws."
"And who is this Minister Horne?" Saeya asked.
"One of nine who runs... He's the worst of them." Lon decided not to relate how he'd survived being sacrificed on a First Age artifact or that Horne had personally selected him for the ordeal. He didn't know how Melcart would react and he wasn't sure he could hold back from striking his rival if he were to mock him for that. "He leads them. He's a Priest of Alocer. He goes to battle with a cloudstone er smilkstone in his hands and he uses mind control to turn enemy troops."
"Smilkstone is worth a fortune," Melcart said.
"Refresh my memory on Alocer again?" Vakie asked.
Lon straightened up at the request. It surprised him that there were still people on the globe who didn't know about the Prophet Alocer, and also that Valari had asked him for something. "He's a... was a, Kluth-sayer. Preached against minuchin. His followers pray and their prayers are collected in the temple." He waited and when nobody interrupted, he continued, "...it's said that by the end of each day, the prayer of so many devouts, gives Alocer's Ghost the strength he, er it needs to battle the..er to stop the mutations."
"What nonsense," Zed declared. Nobody spoke and the group infused more flasks. The little break in the conversation allowed Lon to contemplate the news of the Crolean presence in Ligne and to come to terms with its reality.
"Why were you persecuted?" Valari asked. "You're True Pattern."
Here it was. Lon's first instinct was to say I was not always, but he knew that would beget more awkward questions. Confusion played across his face and he looked down at his hands. All he could do was shrug and let them draw their own conclusions.
"Who is my neighbour?" Zed's eyes twinkled. "Kluth asked us that. And the answer is everyone. He loves us all equally and that's all that matters. You know that True Pattern feigor are mutants too. Up here." The old sage tapped his noggin. "But all of us, we are solidarity, a blessed continuity, a sustained immortality that none, not you nor I or even Hamlin can begin to fathom. Together we are the mind and body of Kluth, and when one is attacked, the whole must rally to its defense."
Lon listened to the sage's words and wrestled with a dozen thoughts. He wanted to ask why they must wait to be attacked? Was there any fear in the port's hierarchy that their island might be the Crol's next conquest?
"What if the Crols have taken over the Port of Ligne?" Lon asked.
This made the others smile and Zed chuckled. Everyone looked amused at Lon's naivete. Nobody took the idea seriously.
"Many have tried," the sage said. "None have ever succeeded. It's a bit like treading water on the edge of a waterfall. How well do you know our history?"
Lon shrugged and waited for wisdom from the venerated village elder.
"The Port of Ligne is a place of many secrets," Zed began, "new visitors, young people like yourselves will see only its loud paint, its whistle and spank." This caused Saeya to smile and exchange glances with Valari. The medico continued, "it's a bright and festive seaport; it looks new and smells like a fresh catch. But every great house in the harbour is centuries old. Far older than you could ever know. You may admire each structure's height and individuality, but you cannot behold its depth and commonality just below the surface. All the great houses have deep cellars, and below are more spaces that you don't see. There are basements below basements below basements."
"So that's three basements then?" Melcart asked.
"And more below that," Zed dismissed him, and continued; "the port is twice as porous as the rest of the isle, and this land is so perforated no map could ever track the tunnels. And the same goes for the townspeople you ken. They serve societies you'll never know. The merchants and medicos such as myself blend into the market and one might imagine we're easy marks, but just try and push us around and you'll know how we push back." The old sage stopped abruptly and his words hung in silence.
"How?" Lon finally asked, and with some skepticism. "How do you push back against five galleys filled with elites? And five more tomorrow, and five more the day after that?"
"Can they fight like our Calbians?" Saeya said.
"Will they bring their females?" Valari asked.
"And how many of these so-called elites will know any Varget?" Melcart added, "this place is not like the others they have taken."
"Numbers don't matter here Lon," Zed confirmed. "There's no matching the strength of the Secondsun."
"But the stone he carries gives him the same abilities..."
"Smilkstone? Nonsense." Zed interrupted and waved his hand dismissively, "the Crols appear to have some presence in the port but it derives from the strength of their purse. Smilkstone is incredibly rare but it's a toy to a true master."
"Horne is a master."
"A master who keeps his smilk in a stone? What foolishness." Zed huffed, "I could not imagine a feigor surviving here long with such artifice." He smiled and displayed his yellow teeth, "you are smilkstone Lon, you are. And so are you Saeya, Melcart, Valari. our bodies are smilkstone and we glow." The green robed elder brought his hand up and whispered an intonation which Lon heard as feipictma. The word popped. Everyone looked-up and saw the old master turn bright white under his clothes. He glowed as bright as anyone does during The Doubling. He glowed as bright as smilkstone which was the purpose of the exhibition. For what seemed a long time the young masters stared at Zed's face, his long beard, and his arms and body appeared made of bright shiny white stone. Then it faded. His red pudgy nose appeared and then the yellow of his teeth crept back into his form and finally all colour returned.
"Nice illuminate Zedward," Saeya said. "I'd ask how, but.."
"He'd smile, and say..." Melcart started and Valari joined, "...the Secondsun will never rise but you can touch the sky, and the lessons are all around you."
Lon set down the flask in his hand and vowed to make them understand; this was not a hypothetical emergency. Horne was real and dangerous. He was not simply a carnival barker, but a real master of mind control. Parlor tricks and simple illuminations won't stop an evil priest who can control minds and who has an army of elite swordsmen already enthralled.
"How would you best him?" Lon interrupted the group's mirth with a question for the old master. "Your charms and elixirs, your whispers that confuse guards, and this illumination won't stop him." Lon had a touch more emotion than he would have liked. "How do you kill him?"
The elder frowned and looked disappointed. Lon winced. He knew he shouldn't have said kill.
"We do not kill anyone. That's not Kluth's way," Zed said. "Here in Ligne, we do not hold fast or stand firm like the mighty oaks in Dundae. Where would we be if we did that? Blown away. No, we bend like bogwood and we let the storm blow over, or under." Zed winked. "We simply point to Oub and its wealth and away they'll go. We watch them go... None return."
Melcart frowned. "But how can they enter Oub without keys."
"The Tall Wall is a small obstacle." Zed waved again, "They'll erect scaffolding and build stairs over top, and there are other ways in... This is not new. Back in forty-seven..."
"Here we go," Valari said.
"The Croleans aren't the first and they won't be the last." Zed summarized, "It has been attempted once before already this century. Forty years ago, we're visited by the Western Alliance. The Three Kingdoms. Do you know the story? They'd read the broadsheets you see and so they came with a thousand swords. They rowed here in twenty galleys and took the town and marched straight-up to Garrison Castle which surrendered on approach. Like bogwood you understand. Nobody resisted. The foreigners laid in a blockade of the port and hoped to control the town by controlling the food supply. But there were feasts every night". Zed chuckled at his own memories as he related the story and his eyes twinkled with mischievous delight.
"Down in the basements?" Melcart asked.
"Everywhere. We fed the alliance soldiers too when their barges got stuck on the barren sea."
"What finally happened?" Lon asked,
"They went over the wall. Their commander had the bold idea to explore Oub." Zed smiled as he related the story. "He took his hundred best. A mistake. When they didn't return, a larger party was sent to rescue them. An even bigger mistake. When they didn't return, an even larger group went to find them, and, well you get the idea. Few remained. They were easy prey. We had our town back and their boats were sold to the seakin."
"Why was taking one hundred of his best a mistake?" Lon asked, but then clarified, "I know deepcombers' maximum is eight. But why? I've always wondered why?"
"The bigger beasts who live below can sense feigor in groups of ten or more."
"Ahh," Lon smiled, "of course." He set down an infused flask, "so what is Horne doing in port? Are they building scaffolding over the wall?"
"I didn't see any," Zed said. "But he's only just arrived."
A snare drum was heard in the distance and then the clomp-clomp-clomp of boots on stone. The white-haired lad's ears caught the march and he winced because he hated that sound. He shivered with fear as the drumbeat and boots got steadily louder. The troop was inside the walls and coming ever closer...
Lon cast eyes around the table with increased anxiety and then looked to Zed for the explanation. The old feigor in the green robe glanced up at the sun through the tree branches.
"I believe our lunch is about to present itself," the elder said.
Sergeant Orchee proudly led the procession into The Working Place. He was followed by Captain Owen and Coronal Obrion, the goose necked staff officer with a silver chest full of medals. Today was the Calbian Defense Corp's turn to bring lunch and they'd put a lot of flourish into the occasion.
Orchee held a mallet and a fistful of wooden dowels. He led a team of burly reptiles who each carried wooden spars which were holed and grooved and fit together as a table. Lon was impressed with the furniture design and how easily it was assembled. A red and black checkered tablecloth was laid and the meal was deposited one soldier at a time. Two dozen armed feigor paraded into the green space in single file and each held something in their hands.
The proudest picnickers carried in the roast which still smoldered on a spit. It was venison and one hoof remained as proof. The highest ranking Calbians from the hunt had the honour of handling the haunch and racking it above the banquette table. They bowed low to Zed and to each of the four young masters after they'd played their part in the show. Next came half dozen other fellows with lovely turned-wood bowls filled with leafy greens and cheese. Each of these feigor also bowed after they'd dropped their loads. A basket filled with fresh baked bread and butter on a platter followed, and then came preserves in ceramic crocks. A large barrel of cider was carried into the space and everyone cheered its arrival.
Last to enter the grotto, receiving no recognition whatsoever, were Tharus and Jarl. They each carried straw baskets filled with honey-glazed pastries for dessert. This was the least honorable menu item and position. While the others had been so proud of their meats and cheeses these two bumpkins had to be shown where to set their tarts and then where to stand, out-of-the-way.
The deployment complete, Owen and the general smiled proudly, and Zed clapped his hands which was unusual. The shock provoked the other masters at the table to follow suit. Lon could see this was real treat for the army types. The slender archers and husky infantryfeigors of the defense corp must take turns coming here for some now gazed around the limestone grotto with wonder. In their minds this shady recess was sacred space and its gurgling pool and mountain stream were off-limits. Its occupants were near divine; the four young masters and the medicine they made, along with the Po of Kluth monastery atop the hill is what the Calbian Defense Corp and their stone walls were created to protect. This was an important visit for them.
Lost in the wash of red faces it took Lon a moment to spot his friends again. He found Tharus first. He saw the green skinned feigor smile proudly at him while right beside him, Jarl's cat eyes were angry squints locked on Melcart. Lon swiveled and saw how the rogue sneered condescendingly at the new recruits.
Orchee produced a long steel knife and fork and ceremoniously presided over the entire contingent from behind the smoldering haunch. Captain Owen presided over the cider barrel and the goosenecked Coronal assigned the remaining soldiers key posts in the serving line. Each feigor-at-arms adopted a domestic trade; they became pantlers, bakers, waferers, sauciers, larderers, butchers, and cider butlers. Orchee was the meat carver and his role was to disjoint the meat and issue uniform portions. Meat carving was a high honour because it required skill and the sergeant's carving knife was huge and had a full tang construction which meant the same piece of metal that made the blade extended all the way through the wooden handle.
Jarl and Tharus were positioned behind the gravy bowls and Obrion gobbled at Tharus and gave them both wood dippers to ladle-out meat sauce if requested.
Saeya and Valari were invited to go first through the serving line. Lon watched as the pair accepted small portions of roast meat but loaded up on white carrots, parsnips, peppers, and wild peas steamed in their pods. Saeya accepted gravy from Jarl even though she didn't have any potatoes on her plate.
"The tenderloin is found on the inside of the carcass," Melcart pointed to the exact portion he desired. "The most tender of all cuts." He acted haughty and doubled his air-of-authority when he stood before Jarl and Tharus. The big cat held forth a gravy dipper and looked very menial indeed.
"Oh, slather it on good sir," Melcart said. "I like a good... Restful gravy."
Jarl didn't get angry but instead he raised his top lip in a bizarre fake smile. He showed off his lion's teeth and fangs most shockingly. The big cat's incisors had a chilling effect on Mel's arrogance and the young master likely didn't even notice that his meat received no sauce.
The sea drover quietly loaded his shingle with fresh venison, potatoes and bread with dollops of the salty butter, and he bade Jarl give him the gravy. Tharus winked at him proudly as he passed.
Once everyone had their plates they sat cross-legged on the lawn and waited for the lecture. The noon picnics usually featured a talk and with such a lavish spread Lon expected a good story. He didn't have to wait long. Captain Owen used the occasion to speak Common direct to the young masters while the goosenecked coronal stood behind and garbled the same lines in Calbian for the reptilians' benefit.
"Atarskal is surrounded by atrocities." Captain Owen began dramatically, "The syrens have been defeated and for that we're thankful," he glanced at the ladies who glowed, "but the birdkin in the bog are stronger than ever before." Owen spoke five or six words at a time and then waited until Obrion gobbled the same phrases, "Vercino's wildkin are active this summer," he paused, "we believe these tribes have joined and are united."
"It'll be a dangerous harvest." "We'll keep eyes on the crops." "We'll watch the herd in the pasture." "But it's not our wheat or cattle they want." Owen paused, "It's slaves!"
There was a hushed reaction. Saeya and Valari glanced at each other.
"As of today, the Defense Corp shall escort field workers." "Nobody's allowed out without permission from myself," Captain Owen pointed at his own chest, "Or the Coronal, or Hamlin the Templemaster, or Atar." He fixed eyes on Lon but then cast his gaze across all the young masters. "Written permission. Is that understood?"
Nobody said anything.
"No more swamp excursions," Zed looked directly at the ladies which prompted the whole assembly to turn and stare at Saeya and Valari. The girls turned bright red in embarrassment and Valari grumbled and they both hid their faces behind their hair as stared down into their salad bowls. Lon wasn't concerned, and Melcart smiled with joy at the development.
After Saeya and Valari had been singled out and shamed, they didn't participate much in the small talk that followed, and the meal ended an hour later without any more incidents.
-
Melcart relaxed in his usual place by the gurgling pool and the females lay on their blanket. In this way all four young masters recharged their minds and relaxed their bodies as they digested the food. After this they'd all have a swim and then lie in the sun for another few minutes to dry off before they started work again. That was their routine, and it was a nice life and Lon had just settled when the rogue continued to taunt him.
"Every meal is treasure enough here in Atarskal, isn't that right Lon?"
"Treasure enough?" Saeya puzzled over the curious phrase. She looked at Melcart and then up at Lon.
"Mel, how about you and I take a walk?" Lon asked.
"No I'm tired. All your newbie questions are so exhausting. Rookies wear me out."
Lon fumed and stormed out of the grotto. He stomped down the hill and across the promenade and down past the washfeigor to the latrine shed. He entered the center booth where he sat for a long time, lost in thought. He fixated on Melcart and how he was becoming more of a problem. He grew anxious thinking about Clyde. His friend would soon find the map wasn't returned to the pickup-point and maybe there'd be repercussions when the templekin discovered it was missing.
-
The afternoon was tense, but uneventful. They were productive but the conversation was all stops-and-starts. Lon only perked up when the talk drifted back to the Port of Ligne. He had his own question about something he'd seen two days ago.
"Hamlin's beanie cap has the name Plares?" Lon asked, "Is that the legendary ... er um .. place?" The four-story bath house in the heart of Ligne had once been the Palarian but it'd devolved into a house of ill-repute as per the deepcomber sheets.
"Plares was where Hamlin served as healer. It was the second best hospital and the most expensive hotel," Zed said absently.
"The second best?" Saeya asked.
"Yes. Frederis ran The Sanative."
"Frederis Tolden?" Lon knew that was Clyde's grandfather or Uncle. He wasn't sure which. "He was a healer?"
"There was never better. Back then, many kluthsayers could mend organs and set bone with a touch. But Frederis was... More skilled." Zed spoke directly to Lon, "He could raise the dead. I saw it with my own eyes."
"That was Clyde's grandfather?" Lon asked
"Was it?" Zed smiled. He knew more than he said.
"Nobody can even mend organs and even set bones with a touch anymore," Saeya lamented.
Melcart steered the conversation away from the Toldens by describing the hospital he'd seen in the port. "Damatia, the Queen of the Vargwa extracts fees from local healers and harvests body parts," he whispered scandalously. He went on to suggest even more corrupt practices involving midwives but didn't elaborate. Saeya watched Valari who didn't disagree. She simply hid her face and listened. The tall brunette was not a storyteller, but each time the Damatia's name was mentioned the others would all look to her for validation and to gauge her reaction to the tale. Why? Melcart was the resident expert on Patraquin and all things Vargus even though he'd never met or even seen the smilkpoet in person. As the other masters listened, as Mel explained how the Vargus and the Vargwa were equally powerful criminal organizations who vied for power in the port. It was Zed who burst the bubble.
"Both lay tribute at the feet of the Rat King," Zed said.
"The who?" The group asked in near unison and those who didn't speak asked with their eyes.
"You're all so young. There's a rat king in every city on Tokal. The bigger the city, the bigger the brotherhood. The more wealth to be nabbed, the rattier they are, well here in Ligne we have the rattiest one of all."
"Damatia does not pay tribute..." Valari started to protest but Zed waved her off.
"She does." Zed says, "And Patraquin does too. You cannot do any business under the street without paying off the Rat King."
Lon wondered if Minister Horne was embroiled in the local politics of the legendary port and whether or not the ambitious young priest would meet these power brokers? But he didn't dwell on their interesting stories very long as he had a lot of other things to think about. This afternoon he had to get away alone somewhere and crack the puzzle. He had to put mill wheels in some Varget glyphs and make some smilkripples of his own.