The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (14 page)

“He
hasn’t ever shown such interest? Man to woman?” Breda watched her daughter
blush.

“Well,
there was one instance at St. Sidryn’s. He kissed me.”

Breda’s
eyes widened. This was the first she’d heard of this. “What did you do?”

Maera
stared in her mother’s eyes and said with a firm voice, “I kissed him back. Then
he touched me elsewhere, and I guess I panicked. It was the day before leaving,
and I didn’t speak to him again. I’m afraid he worried that he’d violated some
custom or law. So I wrote to him, and we’ve exchanged several polite letters.”

“My
dear, so far I’ve heard nothing to make me think we shouldn’t take a good long
look at this Yozef Kolsko of yours, and getting him to Caernford is the first
step.”

Invited

Maera
had sent her father written reports while she was at St. Sidryn’s, and once she
returned, they frequently discussed her visit, particularly the raid and her
impressions of Yozef. Now, she spent several days preparing a detailed written
analysis of Yozef’s introductions, estimations of his future status on
Caedellium, and his contributions to the defense against the raid. She ended by
suggesting that a more personal analysis by the Keelan hetman would be in
order. She didn’t give the final version directly to her father but placed it, along
with several other pieces of reading, into a basket for non-urgent reading on the
upper left corner of his desk.

Two
days later, Culich reached Maera’s report. He read through it quickly. Then
read it again, thought for a few minutes, and picked it up. He walked to the
west wing of the manor and Maera’s quarters, three rooms serving as her office,
sitting room, and bedroom. He would normally have knocked before entering, but he
walked straight into the office. Maera was at her desk, smaller than Culich’s
and infinitely neater, arranged in a corner with windows on two sides for
maximum light and views of the surrounding gardens.

Maera
looked up as her father entered, and she identified the papers in his hand. She
had estimated when he would reach the report and come to discuss it with her; her
estimation had missed by half an hour.

“Interesting
reading, Maera,” he said, holding up the report. “I’ve heard and read much of
this already, but it was useful to see it all together. I think you’re right. I
need to finally meet this Kolsko myself. Abbot Sistian already urged me to
visit St. Sidryn’s, since Kolsko wasn’t up to traveling yet. I considered it
before the hetmen meeting, which is one reason I asked you to visit St.
Sidryn’s in my place.”

One
reason,
wondered Maera.
There were others? Hmmm.

“I
doubt there’s a problem with Kolsko traveling, Father. Maybe when he first came
to Abersford, but not now. I know he’s traveled to Clengoth several times.”

“That
settles it, then,” said Culich. “I’ll draft a letter to Sistian to tell Kolsko
to come up here as soon as possible. I’ll do it right now, while I’m thinking
about it, and give it to you to edit and tidy up.” Without thinking any
discussion was needed, he turned and left.

That
was easy. But Father telling the abbot to
order
Yozef to come
? She had
doubts about such a directive’s reception. No Keelander would have hesitated,
but Yozef? As mild-mannered and agreeable as he seemed, he wasn’t from
Caedellium, and based on what she gleaned from their conversations, Maera had
the impression his people gave less deference to their leaders. Might he refuse
to come?

An
hour later, Culich returned. “Here’s the letter to the abbot.”

Their
custom was that she would read a draft, make changes she thought necessary,
then rewrite the correspondence and return it to her father for his signature.
As expected, the draft was a simple directive for Abbot Sistian to send Yozef
to Caernford. Besides the implied order, there was no mention of the timing, the
purpose, or the length of the visit or any indication where Yozef would stay.

Back
at her desk, she perused the draft, then amended the letter to
ask
Abbot
Sistian if he would speak with Yozef Kolsko and
request
his coming to
Caernford. Another read, and she added wording that the purpose of the visit was
to allow Hetman Keelan to discuss past and future issues important to the clan,
that accommodation would be provided at one of the manor’s guest houses, and that
the hetman would appreciate Yozef’s visit. All very polite.

Maera
copied the modified letter on better paper and took it to her father. She held
her breath as he took it from her, waiting to see if he read it before signing,
and if he did, how he reacted to the changes. She exhaled slowly when he didn’t
read it, signed it, and handed it back to her. He returned to his other
paperwork.

Maera
all but snatched the signed letter from his hand, went back to her office, and sealed
the folded letter inside the thicker outer paper. She addressed the
correspondence and placed it with other outgoing mail. It would be picked up
first thing the next morning and be in the mail pouch for the Abersford area
later that day.

Even
with the modifications of her father’s letter, Maera wasn’t sure of Yozef’s response.
She found herself both eager to see him again and nervous about his reply. She wrote
a separate letter to show that
she
also wanted him to come and not just
to meet her father. Her letter was even more carefully crafted than her changes
to her father’s letter. Maera would look forward to his visit, so they could
continue their discussions in person. She would show him the local sights. One
last addition to the letter she included, then removed, and finally put back
in.
She
would be happy to see him again.

Off
to See the Hetman

For
Yozef, Maera’s departure day had confirmed that he’d unwittingly overstepped.
Not that he was mad at himself or her. A pleasant day, a fine picnic with wine,
and a woman he liked and who gave off reciprocal signals, by Earth standards.  He
was still learning the rules on Caedellium and had momentarily forgotten
caution. As regretful as his lapse had been, there seemed to be no lasting
consequences, because two sixdays had passed without repercussions. Thus, he
was surprised and slightly apprehensive when a letter from Maera waited at home
one evening, delivered from the local magistrate’s office that also served as
the postal station.

He
read the letter carefully, looking for references to his evident indiscretion.
Nothing. It was as if it had never happened. He interpreted that all was
reasonably well between them. He answered equally politely and correctly to
that first letter and the several that followed. Other than the letters, his
thoughts had only occasionally lingered over her.

Besides
regular stops in his various shops, he was dabbling with several ideas to
improve communications. Although cannon and gunpowder were among the obvious tools
of warfare, the ability to communicate and control were force multipliers. He
was considering paying to construct a spur semaphore line into Abersford from
the line between Caernford and Gwillamer Province. He also suggested changes to
the semaphore system to allow faster and more complex messages, but so far his
ideas hadn’t caught on. Not that he worried about it, because he was working on
a telegraph. He hoped to have a simple test system running within a year. When
finished, he then planned to work on a wireless telegraph, the next step to
real radio.

When
not in his shops, he continued his workouts and weapons practice on his own and
each day assiduously wrote an hour or more in his English journals. He’d
recently completed 80 percent of an introductory organic chemistry text, all that
his enhanced memory could recall, and he’d started on electromagnetism. Not
that any human on Caedellium could have understood any of it. Someday they
might, however, and who knew? Maybe elsewhere on Anyar, the science was further
advanced than on Caedellium.

His
routine was interrupted the day he returned home to a new letter from Maera and
a note from the abbot, asking him to come to the abbey the next day. Maera’s
letter alerted him to the abbot’s request from Hetman Keelan and was the clearest
sign of no permanent damage from his indiscretion with her.

As
warned, the next morning Culich passed on the hetman’s “request” that Yozef
come to Caernford for a sixday. Yozef saw no reason to let the abbot know about
Maera’s letter, so he pretended the invitation—or order, depending on the point
of view—was news to him. He took the rest of that sixday to tidy up details of
ongoing enterprises, most of which were producing products for sale and could,
by now, run perfectly well without him. Those projects under development had
enough inertia for a sixday. The abbot passed his acceptance back to Culich,
and Yozef left for Caernford four days later.

Yozef
decided to make the fifty-mile trip in a single day. Horseback was still not
his favorite mode of transportation, particularly since to make the trip in one
day required a hard pace. He asked the abbot’s permission to see if Carnigan
was interested in accompanying him to drive a carriage Yozef had bought. Sistian
was doubtful about Carnigan’s willingness, as was Yozef, but the big man
surprised them both by accepting. Although the carriage had a compartment
intended for passengers, Yozef rode atop beside Carnigan, which offered better
views and allowed the two of them to talk. This made Yozef feel less awkward, because
he considered Carnigan a friend and not an employee.

The
countryside to Clengoth was familiar to Yozef from his previous trips to register
land and hire workers, and the terrain continued the same farther north on to
Caernford, with low rolling hills flanking flat river valleys covered with
farms and pastures. Beyond were higher hills leading up to significant peaks, visible
particularly to the east, as they neared their destination.

They
changed horses twice at stations spaced along the route. By custom, on round
trips they would exchange the same horses on the return trip and end back at
Abersford with their original team.

The
sun touched the eastern peaks when they pulled into what Carnigan described as Keelan
Manor. Yozef didn’t know what to expect, yet the manor wasn’t a castle, since
there were no obvious signs of fortifications. Whatever the Caedelli called it,
it wasn’t your average Keelan home.

Must
be eight, ten thousand square feet,
Yozef estimated.

The
manor appeared well maintained, with abundant windows, large verandas, and formal
gardens covering perhaps three acres surrounding the house. To the right and the
rear were buildings that on Earth he would guess were mother-in-law setups or
guest cabins.
Maybe
s
ervants’ quarters
? Also to the rear were a
large barn and several other working-looking structures.

Hmmm
. . . large, but not extravagant, easily appropriate for the leader of sixty
thousand clanspeople, according to Maera’s numbers
.

She
had expressed disdain of hetmen or their ancestors for constructing and
maintaining more elaborate residences.

They
reined in on the cinder driveway where stairs led up to the front veranda. One
of the large double doors opened, and out came Maera, an older woman, and two
girls. Her mother and two of her sisters, Yozef assumed. A man in workman’s
clothes appeared and held their team’s reins.

He
wondered whether he should have made the last part of the trip inside the
carriage to look more substantial? Yet he didn’t need to pretend he was someone
he wasn’t.

He
climbed down from the top of the carriage and staggered only a step or two, as
his bones and muscles tried to recover from the last fifteen nonstop miles. He walked
around the horses, nodding and smiling to the workman he passed, and strode to
the bottom of the stairs. Among Cadwulf’s lessons in Caedelli etiquette was the
custom of waiting for a verbal invitation before setting foot in a home.

“Welcome,
Ser Kolsko. I’m Breda Keelan. Welcome to our home,” said the older woman, confirming
her as the hetmistress or whatever her title, if any. Yozef had a moment of
panic when he realized he hadn’t gotten clued in on how to address the hetman’s
wife. After a frantic few seconds of mental scrambling, he selected what he
hoped was the least offensive response.

“Thank
you. I appreciate the hetman’s invitation, the opportunity to meet his wife and
family, and your kind offer for me to stay here during my visit. Thank you
again.” He gave a slight bow to Breda Keelan and made himself look only at the
mother, though he could see the three daughters from his peripheral vision.

Breda
indicated another workman who magically appeared next to Yozef. “Norlin will
see you to your rooms and give you a chance to rest from your trip. The hetman
will be home in another hour, and someone will let you know when evening meal
is ready.” Her gaze moved from Yozef to the carriage and Carnigan. “We’ll see
to your horses and carriage, and will you need accommodations for your man?”

My
man
?

“This
is Carnigan Puvey, a friend and a member of St. Sidryn’s staff. He’s much
better at handling horses than I am and kindly drove the carriage. He’ll be
staying in Caernford.” The comment established Carnigan as a friend and contained
a slight rebuke to Breda’s assumption.

“Until
evening meal, then.” She turned, and the four of them went back inside.

“You’re
sure you’ll be all right?” he asked Carnigan.

“I
think I can take care of myself,” Carnigan assured him, with a slap on Yozef’s
back that only slightly jarred, because by now Yozef was accustomed to his
friend’s gestures.

“Just
remember, I’ll either be at St. Tomo’s Abbey or the Galloping Horse Inn in
Caernford. I’ll check in at St. Tomo’s and deliver letters from Abbot Beynom
and may do work around the abbey, but I’ll stay at the inn. Let me know when
you want to return to Abersford or if you need me for anything.”