The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (9 page)

There
was no preamble. “You need to speak to Ozem,” she said. “He’s become too full
of himself. Too arrogant. Too stupid is all I can call it.”

“I
assume there are particulars you’re referring to. What exactly has he done?”

Their
eleven-year-old son was bright and energetic. Sometimes Okan thought him too
bright for his own good, without having learned proper respect and discipline.
His twin sister, Lufta, was also intelligent but lacked the drive of her
brother. They had accompanied their parents to Caedellium, while their two
older brothers stayed in Narthon as junior army officers and had their own
growing families.

“It’s
gotten worse the last month. He is disrespectful to the guards, lords over
Lufta, and is constantly denigrating the servants and the slaves. Today I heard
him tell Lieutenant Jurnor to fetch him his coat. His coat! As if the officer
of our guard was a servant or a slave. I’m also sure he’s been on the verge of disobeying
me several times and barely restrained himself. I doubt that restraint will
last much longer.”

Rabia
unclenched her arms and took Okan’s hand. “I’m sorry, dear, but I didn’t
mention any of this earlier. I thought it a phase he was going through and I
could deal with it. Now I’m worried it’s more serious.”

Okan
put an arm around her and squeezed. “Not to worry, dearest. I’ll speak to him.”

He
found his son lounging in his room. Rabia had sent him there to await his
father.

“Stand
up!”

Ozem
jumped to his feet, face flushing, eyes morphing from insolence to fear.

“You
may be an Akuyun, but don’t forget you’re still a child and have not earned the
right to behave in any way of your own choosing, even if it’s to act stupid.”

“Father,
I—”

“Shut
up! I’ll let you know when you can talk.”

Ozem’s
mouth snapped shut, and he stiffened to attention.

“You
put Lieutenant Jurnor in a bad situation to no purpose. His duty is maintaining
security of the villa and reporting to your mother when I’m not here. To order
him to fetch your coat is the act of a spoiled child not worthy of the Akuyun
family or your two brothers, who never behaved in such a manner. Jurnor’s an
officer in the Narthon army and due respect.
You
have no authority over
him, and
you
have done nothing to earn respect. If you have such
delusions, get them out of your mind. I’ll be confirming to the lieutenant that
he’s under no obligation to listen to anything you say. Is that clear?”

 “Yes,
Father, I’m sorry I—”

“Did
I say you could speak? As for the correct treatment of servants and slaves,
while they’re bound to our family and must obey, it’s stupid to treat them badly
unnecessarily. Think of how you treat your horse. You brush it and give it
treats but are stern in its training. In return, it gives unquestioned
obedience. Disciplining people is often necessary, though is never done for trivial
reasons unrelated to their duties. Your mother tells me you struck a maid
because she forgot to mend your favorite riding pants, and she wasn’t even the
one you told to do it. While we expect them to obey, in return they need to
know they’ll be treated fairly within the bounds of their station. To punish unnecessarily
corrupts the bond between master and underlings, be they subordinates, common
people, servants, or slaves.”

Okan
paused. Although he wasn’t as mad as he tried to sound, the boy needed a strong
lesson. He didn’t think there was a major problem, but if there was, he needed
to nip it quickly.

“I
don’t want to hear any excuses. I thought you’ve been taught better. If not,
it’s my fault. I expect better from you in the future. I’m
very
disappointed.”

Ozem’s
face fell.

Good
, thought Okan
.
He wants my approval. I think Rabia’s right, he’s going through a phase.

He
expected this short session would show results. If not, stronger measures could
always be taken.

A New Life

Yozef
was talking with Filtin about trying to make napalm, when a message arrived
from a farm north of Abersford. Bronwyn had given birth. A boy. Both mother and
baby were in good health. He read the message several times, while Filtin
waited, then became curious.

“Bad
news, Yozef?”

“No.
Good news. Bronwyn gave birth, and everyone’s fine.” Filtin knew of Yozef’s
past connection with the farm woman and that a child had resulted.

“You
don’t
look
like it’s good news.”

“No,
really, it
is
good news. It’s just that having a son—and a son nearby whom
I won’t raise myself—only now seems real.”

Yozef
hadn’t seen Bronwyn during the last two months, not since the Godsday when he
sat in a back pew and saw Bronwyn, her sister, her husband, and three children
walk down the right aisle and find a space in the middle of the cathedral. She
was obviously pregnant and the family group looked . . . domestic? Yozef felt a
pang, exactly why he wasn’t sure. Not continuing with Bronwyn? He didn’t think
so. The child? Not being a daily part of its life felt wrong, although, looking
at her family, he couldn’t argue there was any other option. Maybe it was just
the “family.” He had made friends, but there was still a disconnected feeling.

Now
the child had arrived, and Yozef still didn’t know how he felt, except for one
clear question:
I wonder what they named him?

Music

Yozef
only occasionally attended the Godsday service at the cathedral. He wasn’t a
believer, on Earth or Anyar, but considered regular attendance both politically
wise and a time to hear music that didn’t assault his ears, as most Caedelli
music did. An ensemble of strings and wind instruments blended into calming arrangements,
and some of the brothers and the sisters formed a choir with pieces reminiscent
of Gregorian chants. Often, he listened only half-heartedly to the abbot’s
message, losing himself in the musical interludes.

The
cathedral services weren’t the only place Yozef heard Caedelli music. For
Keelanders, music was an everyday feature of life. Walking through Abersford, he
often heard half a dozen different voices singing or humming tunes. Besides the
abbey’s small ensemble, instruments, both in groups and solo, were everywhere
at festivals, parties, pubs, and anywhere individuals or groups were in the
mood.

What
hadn’t happened yet on Caedellium was standardization of instruments, although
four basic types existed—percussion, wind, horn, and string. With all four
types, the variety was such that at first Yozef wondered whether it was the
custom for
every
instrument to be unique.

While
the music itself varied, it was usually performed solo or, if with multiple
instruments, played one person at a time. Combined playing was mainly
restricted to small groups at festivals and pubs, with the Godsday service
ensemble the only formal permanent grouping. There was also elementary standard
notation, but Yozef thought it was in the early stages of development, where
only the main melody line was written down, with the expectation that the musician
would improvise the bass line or variations.

Some
of the local music Yozef found appealing, particularly a few of the pub songs
and Godsday music. Other pieces were downright strange, and even the same piece
could be in either category, depending not just on the quality of the musician,
but on how he chose to play the piece or what instrument he used. A melodic, meditative
Godsday piece played by several strings with a soft drumming background didn’t
sound the same when played on something like a small bagpipe.

Yozef
had initially contributed to the Caedellium music scene at the Snarling Graeko
with rough translations of “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places,” by Garth Brooks,
Roger Miller’s “Chug-a-lug,” and the Irish song “Molly Malone.” Other songs
were less appreciated. Blank looks responded to his translation of the Beach
Boys’ “I Get Around.”

He
was in a good mood one day, while going over his bank accounts, which seemed on
a steady rise, no matter how much he paid out in salaries, supplies, and new
projects, most of which failed. He was unconsciously humming parts of the
choral movement from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony when a voice interrupted.

“Say,
Yozef, what’s that you’re humming?”

He
looked up to see Pernel Horton, one of the bank’s clerks.

“Ah,
Pernel. It’s a tune known to my people in America. Part of Beethoven’s Ninth
Symphony.”

“Beethoven?
Symphony?”

Shit.
I need to watch speaking without thinking.

“A
man named Beethoven created the music, and it’s played by a group of musicians
who together are called a symphony.”

“I
heard you humming, and the melody grabbed me right away. Wait a moment while I
get my curnyx.”

Pernel
returned with an instrument that looked like a large kazoo. Yozef had seen and
heard them at harvest festivals and Godsday services. Depending on sizes and
shapes, the bulbous instrument’s output reminded him of flutes and oboes.

“I
play at Godsday services, and we’re always looking for new music—if it’s
appropriate, of course. Please hum again, and let me try to copy.”

Yozef
hummed, Pernel blew, and work in the bank stopped, as workers and customers
gathered to listen. Within minutes, the clerk could repeat everything Yozef
remembered of the Ninth Movement.

“You
said this music is played by a group. How large?”

“Perhaps
as many as thirty musicians.” Yozef didn’t say large symphony orchestras could
approach a hundred members.

“This
is exciting. I’ll speak with the others who play at the services and see if we
can use this tune. I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask you before, since I like
some of the songs you gave us at the Snarling Graeko. I imagine you must know
other music from your people?”

The
two men walked out of the bank to let business resume. In a tree grove, Yozef
obligingly whistled and hummed a number of tunes for Pernel, who was eager to
adapt a few for a planned Godsday service, in honor of the memory of those who had
fallen in the defense of St. Sidryn’s.

During
the next month, they worked sporadically on adapting novel tunes from Yozef,
and the final memorial service ended up with ten musical pieces, six
traditional Caedellium ones and four from Yozef that were based very loosely on
the Schubert “Ave Maria,” “Il Pensieros” by Verdi, “O Holy Night,” and, of
course, the same choral movement from the Ninth Symphony. When blended with the
Caedellium tunes and words added to be sung by the small choir, the totality developed
into a story starting as a somber reflection on the losses, progressed to
asking for God’s grace, then showed the unity of the community struggling
together, and finally had a triumphal ending. Without intending to, they created
the first Caedellium opera, a series of musical pieces telling a story.

Yozef
insisted the music needed to be performed with a reduced variety of instruments,
at least those pieces he contributed. After some arguments, they settled on a
dozen that simulated an Earth orchestra. Five bowed instruments, taking the roles
of violin, viola, and cello, were accompanied by a curved metal horn (French
horn), three bulbous wind kazoos, two plucked strings (harp and guitar), and a
drummer using drums of several sizes and tones.

Rumors
of something unusual spread, so that when the Godsday for the memorial arrived,
the cathedral was filled, with hundreds unable to get in, even by packing the
hall in every available space.  Sistian solved the problem by declaring that
they would perform the entire memorial service twice. When this included the introductory
traditional Godsday songs and sermon and the special musical performance, the entire
service lasted two hours. Despite the tradition that services in the cathedral
were solemn and quiet affairs, at the conclusion the throng shouted, clapped, and
wept, and conversation broke out throughout the hall. Sistian finally had to
ring a two-handed bell to quiet them, thank the musicians, and then ask the
people to exit, so they could repeat the entire event for those left outside. People
who missed the first performance filled perhaps two-thirds of the cathedral,
which filled again to overflowing with those who wanted a second chance.

At
the end of the second performance, Sistian again thanked the musicians, but by
then he knew something extraordinary had happened that day, and he took
additional time to thank the lead musician, Pernel Horton, and Yozef Kolsko.
Horton, in turn, attributed much of the credit to Yozef, who, much to his
discomfort, ended up having to come forward to general shouts of approval.

After
eagerly exiting the hall, Yozef was thanked by people wanting to clasp arms,
slap him on the back, or, most awkward for Yozef, reach out to
touch
him
as he passed. Yozef had nearly escaped, when Brother Carllin Wye pushed aside several
people and threw his arms around Yozef in a fierce hug, then stepped back with
tears in his eyes.

“Ser
Kolsko,” Wye said huskily, “please forgive me for ever thinking you were an
agent of the Evil One sent here to entice us to dark ways. Forgive me.”

Agent
of the Evil One
?

Yozef
knew the dour brother didn’t approve of him, but this was the first time he
realized there were still some who thought of him as a demon.

Wye
hugged him again.

Okay,
Wye, enough with the hugging.

Sistian
rescued him by leading Brother Wye away, and Yozef made his escape.

Maera
Keelan had been at St. Sidryn’s two sixdays and knew of Wye’s opinion of Yozef.
She saw the performance twice, and the music and the words touched her more
than she would have thought possible. The prolonged
story
and evolution
of the music were something she hadn’t experienced before. She closely observed
Brother Wye’s apology and Yozef’s obvious discomfort and wondered.

Maera
Teaches Yozef

The
Godsday memorial, tours of Yozef’s projects, witnessing him explaining
inheritance to Brother Wallington, and interviews with anyone who interacted with
this strange man let Maera learn facts and impressions, but the information
flow was one-way—from or about him to her. The opportunity presented itself to
go in the other direction: her teaching Yozef.

They
both attended a dinner reception at the abbey with senior brothers and sisters,
the mayor of Abersford, Vegga as the magistrate, and two dozen other prominent
men and women.

After
the meal, the guests moved to a large room off the cathedral and engaged in what
resembled a mixer, guests standing or sitting, sipping beverages, nibbling on
tidbits, and circulating from one group and discussion to another.

It
didn’t take long for Yozef to become bored, until he drifted over and stood near
Maera and six others talking about the history of Caedellium. After a few
minutes, the group members dispersed, until only the two of them remained.

“Sen
Keelan, I listened to your discussion, and I see you’ve quite an extensive
knowledge of not just Keelan and its history, but of all the clans on
Caedellium. I’ve done reading in the abbey library and have discussed this with
Brother Sistian, but I’d like to learn more. I wonder if we could arrange to
meet and you tell me more about the island and its history.”

Maera
nodded without expression. “Of course, Ser Kolsko.”

Thus
began daily hour-long sessions in the abbey library. Yozef took copious notes, while
Maera talked, and she suggested several readings that he had missed in the
abbey library. She also said there were other books in the St. Tomo’s library
at Caernford, but they didn’t allow these to be taken from the library. Yozef
said he was willing to pay to have a few of her highest recommendations copied,
and she offered to write to the St. Tomo’s abbot to see whether it could be
arranged.

During
the third sixday of such sessions, Kolsko made a suggestion. They had continued
using each other’s formal address. Maera had made an effort to be more familiar
with several locals, but the relaxation hadn’t occurred between her and Kolsko.

“Sen
Keelan, since we’ve spent considerable time together, I wonder if we might
dispense with the last names and use our first names, if that’s appropriate and
with your permission.”

The
question initially startled Maera. It was the first time someone had suggested
to
her
that they use first names. She had always been the one who made the
offer. A flash of indignation passed quickly at Kolsko’s guileless query. After
all, he was
different
, in Filtin Fuller’s words.

“Of
course . . . Yozef. You have permission to call me Maera.”

During
the next month, Maera continued to pay visits to Yozef’s enterprises and took voluminous
notes on distillation, soap and paper making, banking, and other activities
that had yet to come to fruition. These times, plus teaching Yozef about
Caedellium, and their attendance at several meals with the Beynoms and other
locals, resulted in their spending more time together than she had planned. At
the social affairs, she noticed that they seemed to gravitate toward each other.
She told herself it was because he was the most interesting person attending.