Sunset of Lantonne (5 page)

“I will hold the wagons until she is done mothering him,” Ilarra’s father told her, laughing as the two wildlings marched away. “It’s just her way of keeping him a minute longer.”

Giving Ilarra another hug, her father added, “The city is nothing like Hyeth, Ilarra. Be safe there.”

“I have Raeln. He won’t let me get hurt.”

Her father nodded and clung more tightly to her, then forced himself to step back.

“Travel safely, Ilarra. And come home to me when you are done with your studies. Be sure not to let Raeln save you too often. You need to learn to take care of yourself.”

May the ancestors guide our hands to preserve all that matters in this world and shield those we care about from harm.

-
Statement by Turess believed to found the order of the Preservers

Therec watched as the distant wagons approached from the west, picking their way slowly through the snowy foothills of Turessi on one of the few windswept roads that the council had allowed to be open for foreigners. The gypsies came through once every few months on their way from one of the dwarven mining towns through Turessi and on south, past the dry lands and into the region held by Altis and Lantonne.

He had waited with unease for those wagons to appear on the horizon, knowing they would eventually arrive, but hoping deep down that they were lost in one of the early winter storms. If they never came, he would be free of the commands he had been given. With their approach, he was bound by the decisions others had made for his life’s direction. His oath demanded he go, even if he disagreed with the council’s command.

“Defy them,” Salda, his wife, told him. She hugged herself as though the snow and wind could actually give her a chill. “Tell the council that I am with child and they will relent on this order. We can make the lie a truth before they know for certain. A thousand miles with unmarked drunken fools…”

“Gypsies,” insisted Therec, cutting off the rant. “They are the only ones traveling so far. The vast amounts they drink allow them to ignore the risks and the weather to take me south.”

“Uncivilized dogs,” added the woman, frowning as she stared at the wagons. “Why the council allows them onto our lands, I will never understand. I could not even find record of their ancestry in the clan’s library.”

“We make concessions to broker better relations with the less educated nations,” he reminded her. “If we did not, I would spend all my time with our parents. There would be far more of them than us, if we began a war with everyone.”

“Better that than being sent to realms that war endlessly, while calling us the savages. What point is there in seeking peace between nations that will simply unite against us if they could find a way to reach us?”

“There is likely no point, other than goodwill.”

Salda turned her head, giving Therec a glimpse of her tattooed face under her hood. Like any other educated Turessian, the black tattoos that ran from the middle of her forehead around to her cheeks indicated recognition by their clan for her skill and knowledge. One near the middle of her eyebrows also marked her as his wife, which was only added to one’s honor markings if the person’s spouse held rank within the clan. If he had been poorly-regarded, Salda would have been discouraged from acknowledging him publicly as her husband.

“Ocshand was sent to the city of Altis months ago,” she reminded him. “We have heard nothing from him. You know the whispers. The clan believes that the council is sending our people to the southlands to be forgotten, so that our clan is weakened. Rumors abound that other clans are being similarly thinned.”

“They are nothing more than whispers, Salda. Ocshand was a coward and a simpering weakling. Likely, they saved us the effort of having him killed. There is no loss in sending him away.”

“Do you think the barbarians are so wise as to realize he does not well represent Turessi?”

Therec thought on that a moment before answering, “I have to believe they have some wisdom in their leadership, or this entire peace mission is a waste of time. You know I cannot disobey the council, so I must believe they are doing this for good reason.”

“Husband,” she insisted, turning to face him, though she kept herself far from him. “You will be gone for no less than two years with the time to travel that far and the mission itself. Why would you think I would accept this?”

“Salda,” Therec said softly, reaching for her. Immediately, she stepped away and he realized that he had not been thinking. In public, an attempt to touch her would have been overly vulgar. She was right in avoiding his touch, so he let his hand drop to his side. “My wife, I cannot refuse the council. I will do my duty and I will return as soon as I am able.”

Salda frowned and looked back toward the distant wagons.

“Ourin will be marked and well into his training before you return, Therec.”

“You think I have forgotten our son? I brought this up at the council meeting, but they insisted. They did offer to let me bring both of you with me. It would have been unfair to him, as young as he is. I would never refuse him the right of his first honor markings and entrance to the order of Preservers.”

Nodding, Salda said nothing else. She seemed to have resigned herself to his departure, no matter how unhappy she was with it.

Turning away from the wide snow-covered plains between their camp and the mountains the gypsies were approaching from, Therec looked over his clan’s holdings and wished there was something he could do to stay. So many people here depended on him, and he knew it would be difficult for everyone for a time after he left.

Eighty mud-brick homes stood out on the otherwise snowy plateau, with dozens of black-clothed humans moving among them, going about their daily business. Somewhere out on the plains, similar temporary villages existed for the other clans. Beyond the homes, the large flock of long-furred oxen had been penned in and was being watched by dogs that had been trained for that purpose. High up the next rise, he could just barely make out the silhouette of the grand temple of Turessi, surrounded as always by the mists that lingered around the higher peaks.

It was at that temple—a poor name, Therec reminded himself, given the lack of religion among the Turessians—that Turess himself had relinquished power to the council in his later days, entrusting them to keep the peace among the clans. The council had continued to rule from the temple for centuries, one member from each clan plus one direct descendant of Turess at any given time. The descendants had no real power, but they were allowed to speak to the council, whereas most Turessians were not.

The council had recently allowed his peoples’ clan to return to the region after proving themselves in contests of wisdom and martial might against the others. Of the ten major and fourteen minor clans, only three were allowed to set up camp within sight of the temple. That honor gave them influence, but also made them a target for the other clans. His clan had recently won rights to the area where they currently stayed, securing a small fortune in the old mines that continued to produce silver nearby. Many such mines dotted Turessi and were often the reason for contests of wisdom between the clans for control of them. Holding one ensured profit for the clan and a higher status with the council of clans, though it drew unwanted attention from those clans that wished to see them diminished.

Down at the mines, barely visible at the bottom of the slope from where the houses were built, a small army of uneducated slaves and ancestors worked endlessly near a separate village of mud huts. Such toil was beneath the educated, but Therec was one of several responsible for their care. Once he left, he was unsure who would take care of the slaves or the clan’s ancestors. He feared that harm might come to either, though he had kept quiet about such fears. Salda already had enough to worry about.

Therec looked over at one of his own ancestors, his great grandfather, who stood nearby. The withered old man stared at him with no expression whatsoever, waiting for the command to carry something back to their home.

“Salda will care for you, old father,” Therec told the man, smoothing the man’s tattered robes. The man stared straight ahead, unmoving. “You will be remembered until I return.”

“Therec, there are only two other preservers in the clan,” said Salda angrily. “I am hardly trained to maintain the ancestors. I already have my hands full keeping the slaves alive. My training never dealt with the ancestors.”

“I know,” he replied once he was sure that his great grandfather’s clothing was not looking disrespectful.

In dismay, Therec spotted a crease near the old man’s jaw where the bones had separated and the jaw had begun to fall away. The bloodless wound was to be expected at the ancestor’s age, but it was ultimately Therec’s responsibility to keep him intact, despite the man having been dead for nearly twenty years. The frigid climate of Turessi made that far easier than it could have been, but decay was inevitable. How one treated one’s ancestors’ remains told much about the clan, and Therec worried that improper care of the dead in his absence might diminish the clan’s standing even more than a war with another clan.

Using a small amount of magic that drained his strength in much the same was as a long hike or lack of sleep, Therec mended the damage decay had caused on his ancestor. Slowly, the jaw was tugged back into proper alignment by the healed tendons, though the man seemed unaware of the difference.

“Do what you can to keep them intact,” Therec asked his wife, examining his great grandfather for any other signs of decay. Finding none, he added, “I need to see to the slaves before I go.”

Hearing no objection from Salda, Therec began walking down the steep slope of ankle-deep snow toward the mud huts that the slaves occupied during the darkest hours when they were not working. Beyond those, a series of pitch-black entrances to the mines were visible even at a distance, where his clan’s slaves would be toiling, earning the shelter and food they were given.

It took Therec nearly an hour to reach the nearest of the slaves’ homes, though he knew he likely had until the next morning before the gypsies reached the clan and he would have to leave. Until then, there were far too many things to worry about and too many people that had to be readied for his departure. Still, he wanted to be back at his own home…and back in Salda’s company…before the nightfall. He would not see her again for much more than a year, and despite the rules against public affection, she was the one person aside from his son that he adored beyond any other. He could not imagine spending so long away from her and had no intention of sacrificing any more of their time together than necessary. Duty came first, but there were limits.

The slaves’ homes were modeled after the ones that the Turessian clans built, but were constructed almost entirely of cast-off materials and hard-packed mud that had been dried for use as simple bricks. Unlike the slats used to roof the Turessian homes, these used primarily leftover lumber arranged in an attempt to minimize snow or rain getting through to the interior. When the slaves asked, most members of the clan would aid them in trying to make the places more habitable, but most building materials were sparse in the northlands.

Among the various clans’ slaves, Therec’s people prided themselves on treating their slaves better than most, but even so, the place always depressed Therec. No matter how much that they did for the slaves, nothing would ever bring them up to the same status as any Turessian, and he always felt sorry for them. These were the uneducated, the simple, or the foreigners who had been taken in by the clan rather than destroyed when their own ancestors had attacked the clan’s holdings. It might have been a mercy to help them, but that did not make them as grateful as they could have been.

In a way, the slaves were a reminder of all the places that his clan had roamed in the last few generations. These people had been collected from all corners of Turessi or claimed from clans that had yielded to his own. They were as varied as the places the clan had gone and their temperaments were even more diverse.

Those slaves that were resting after a day of labor in the mines looked up at Therec’s approach and immediately took a knee before him in proper respect. It was customary behavior between the slave caste and the true Turessians, though Therec had never appreciated the bows when considering the equality between all Turessians of his caste. Whenever he was faced with groveling, he felt guilty for the benefits he had been born to. Most of his life, he had sought to stop the bowing to those in his order, but others were less willing to let slaves regain some degree of dignity.