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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 10
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 1
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 02/01/1997
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Volume 10, Number 1 Circulation: 627
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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Stew A' La Gundi Jim Owens Seber 14, 1015
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Last Stand Max Khaytsus Sy 24-28, 1014
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
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on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
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are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
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public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
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DargonZine 10-1, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright February, 1997 by
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>.
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All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual
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contributors. Stories may not be reproduced or redistributed without
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the explicit permission of the author(s) involved, except in the case
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of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
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Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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We're all familiar with the rates of growth and change on the
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Internet. Today, more than ever, the Internet faces a bevy of
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substantive challenges. What is the future of high-speed data transfer
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to the desktop? How will the network backbone deal with the geometric
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increase in traffic? What will be done about the lack of available
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domain names? Will commercial sites be able to recoup their investments
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in Web sites through electronic commerce? What new measures will be
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established regarding privacy, copyright, and intellectual property in
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order to deal with this revolutionary new medium?
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It looks like there are a lot of challenges and changes in the
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works for the network as a whole. That said, I'd like to digress a
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little bit and talk about change as it relates to DargonZine.
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What "DargonZine" is has certainly changed dramatically since it
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was founded (as FSFnet) back in 1984. Many of our changes reflect the
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incorporation of new technologies (e.g. Listserv, Usenet News, and the
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Web) as they became available. But one thing hasn't changed in those
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thirteen years: our goal of supporting aspiring fantasy writers. While
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our methods have changed and evolved over time, we remain firmly wedded
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to that mission.
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DargonZine is neither the most visible nor the most popular SF zine
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on the Internet. Because we have always kept our mission foremost in our
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minds, our scope has therefore been much narrower than other magazines,
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and we haven't tried to be everything to everyone.
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Our successes are less quantifiable than simple numbers of readers.
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We've built enthusiasm in our writers, and fostered lasting
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relationships between writers. Over time we've gathered our "lessons
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learned" into a set of firm beliefs about what makes good writing. We've
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also created a healthy organizational culture amongst the writers,
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giving them a real sense of pride and ownership in the project. And in
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the course of producing one of the largest bodies of consistent, related
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fiction on the Internet, we've had a hell of a lot of fun (which happens
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to be part of our mission, too)!
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While our mission won't change, we guarantee that
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DargonZine will continue to evolve in 1997. With the war behind us,
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we'll be printing new storylines and stories from new writers. You can
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also expect a major reorganization of our Web site (we're specifically
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focusing on ease of use and making more information available). And
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although readership isn't a primary concern, we will probably put a
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little more effort into visibility in the coming year.
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But the event which I think holds the most promise for 1997 is our
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first large-scale writers' summit, which will be held this spring. This
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will be the first "conference" of Dargon Project writers, and there'll
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be a lot of soul-searching and direction-setting. And, of course, we'll
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be trying to generate renewed enthusiasm and have a little fun in the
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process. And I promise that a full write-up and our most
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incriminating pictures we take will
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be made available on the Web site!
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But, as ever, we will be working hard to achieve our mission, and
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provide you with the best reading material that we can produce.
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So we unveil our 13th year with two of the "Old Ones"...
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Jim Owens' first appeared in FSFnet 1-3, back in the spring of
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1985, and was one of the founders of both FSFnet and the Dargon Project.
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In addition to his eleven non-Dargon stories, "Stew A' La Gundi" is
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Jim's tenth Dargon story, and there are more on the way! The Web version
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of "Stew" is also illustrated with Jim's own artwork, which we're glad
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to promote.
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"Last Stand" is Max Khaytsus' thirty-first Dargon Project story
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since he joined the project back in 1988. Needless to say, he is our
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most prolific writer. This story includes a depiction of the aftermath
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of the Baranur-Beinison war -- a reality which will continue to echo
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throughout several future storylines. Watch for Max's "Deep Woods Inn"
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series to begin running in our next issue, which should be distributed
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in mid-March.
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========================================================================
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Stew A' La Gundi
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by Jim Owens
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<gym@ncweb.com>
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Seber 14, 1015
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Simon could smell the village before he could see it. He would
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rather have smelled the leeks he knew grew wild in these parts, but
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years of experience had taught Simon that every scent carried important
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information. This one was no exception. It was a smell he had not
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smelled for years, but it was instantly recognizable -- acrid smoke from
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a fire doused with human slop. The message was not spoken, but was
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nonetheless clear -- go away, you're not welcome here. Indeed, although
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smoke was still coming from several of the chimneys atop the small ring
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of huts, Simon saw no lights or movement through the broken shutters
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covering most of the windows. Still, the night was cold, it had been
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raining for two days solid, and Simon Salamagundi was not one quickly
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turned away. He led his horse through the muddy common to the first
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house and knocked on the door.
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"Hello! Anyone home?" he called. Several small sounds were his only
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answer. He pushed on the door gently. It was securely latched.
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"We've no room here. Look elsewhere," came a small, defensive
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female voice from within.
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"I just want a place out of the rain," chided Simon softly.
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"We've no room, and no food to feed you," retorted the woman.
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"Please leave."
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Simon didn't argue. Hospitality required an offer of a meal, even
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in these rude dwellings, and, after the 'gatherings' of the past war,
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little food was left for non-combatants. Instead of arguing, Simon
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started toward the next hut. He muttered wordlessly to himself as he
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sloshed along. What had started as a simple trip to secure some spices
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for his stew had turned into a two-day journey, and now he had to endure
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the fragile hospitality of this war-torn land. He promised himself that
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next time he ran out of sage he would wait for the next ship, rather
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than seek it out on his own! Thirty feet of mud later, he reached the
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door, and knocked again.
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"Hello! Anyone here?"
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"What do you want?" This time the voice was male, but no less wary.
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"A spot out of the rain, please," Simon responded, trying to sound
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innocuous.
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"We've no food and no fire. Try elsewhere."
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Simon sighed. "I need no food or fire, just dry!" He replied,
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exasperated. No reply was forthcoming, however, and so he moved on to
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the next house.
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The war has hurt us all, Simon thought to himself as he slogged
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through the mire to the next hovel. The area had once been civil and
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gentle. Even though the raiding parties disappeared with the fighting,
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no one wanted to appear to have anything at all, for fear that what
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little they had might still be taken away. He cursed silently. The wound
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would take years to heal. He approached the next door, and knocked.
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This time the door actually opened, and a small child stepped into
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view, one thumb innocently stuck in the mouth. Simon smiled, a faint
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warmth entering his heart, but the child was whisked from view and the
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door closed. "We have no room, please move on," called a firm female
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voice from inside. Simon shrugged and did so.
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Several more houses yielded several more rejections. By this time
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the rain had stopped, and one moon emerged faintly from the clouds.
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Simon moved to a high spot in the common, above the mud, and stood
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looking at the dark circle of houses. He stared for several long
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moments, then sniffed the air again.
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"I think a change of air is in order," he said to no one in
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particular. He then took the reins of his horse and walked back the way
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he came.
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The moon was a handspan higher in the sky when he returned, with
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what dry wood he had been able to find lashed to the saddle. He stopped
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at the high spot in the common and began to build a small pyramid of
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branches. That done, he turned to the pack on his horse. He slid out a
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short piece of latchet-wood, the fragrant aroma filling the dismal
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common. It had been a gift from Ittosai, to be used as incense. Such a
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stick was worth more than the entire village. He stood a moment, looking
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around at the huts, as if trying to decide if the immediate environs
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were worthy of such a extravagant offering, then he hunkered down by the
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small heap on the ground and began shaving thin slices off the precious
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stick.
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After a handful of the fine shavings had accumulated atop the
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sticks, Simon returned for his tinder box. Fortunately there was little
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wind, and a gem of flame soon graced the miserable clearing. At once a
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heady cloud arose from the small pieces of the pungent wood, almost
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driving away the earlier, evil stench. He then turned back to the horse,
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and uncovered a large pot.
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Simon grimaced as he struggled to free the stew-pot from the pack.
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He wryly remembered a promise he had made himself; that when the pot got
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too heavy to lift, he would stop cooking. His arms were still hale,
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however, and the weight of the utensil was manageable. He finally freed
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it from its encumbrances, and set it on its three legs over the fire. He
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had almost left it home, but now he was glad he had brought it.
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From the well in the center of the common he drew a pail of water.
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This he poured into the pot, under which the still mostly wet wood
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hissed and flamed fitfully. He then drew another pail of water, and with
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it in hand began rummaging about on the ground. After a few moments he
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found a large stone beside a post, a stone about the size of a double
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fist. This he dropped in the pail. He found another stone, about the
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same size, and chucked it in the bucket too. Soon a third and fourth
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joined the first two. Simon then straightened and walked back to the
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fire. From the pail he drew the now-clean rocks, one by one, and dropped
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them in the pot. After returning the bucket to the well, Simon returned
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again to the camp and lifted a small skin of wine off the saddle. After
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dragging a handful of his precious sage from the saddlebag, Simon drank
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a swallow of wine for warmth and, after a small prayer for luck, poured
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the rest in the kettle, followed by the sage. He returned the skin to
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the saddle, grabbed his tools, then squatted down by the fire and began
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stirring the mix with a big spoon.
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Any good fisherman knows that patience is a virtue, and Simon was
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no exception. He waited, and stirred, poking the fire occasionally, for
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about ten menes. Finally a nibble came, in the form of a slight figure,
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in the shadows beside one of the huts. Simon smiled to himself, careful
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not to look up and scare the boy. It took almost as long for the lad to
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gather enough courage to leave the shadows.
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The first one is always the hardest, Simon reminded himself. After
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one starts the others will fall in, but it's always a trick knowing what
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to tell the first one. Fortunately the lad provided the answer with the
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first words he spoke.
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"What'tcha cookin'?" Simon almost turned away as the gust of
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leek-tainted breath struck him full in the face. Instead he smiled
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triumphantly and beamed up at the lad.
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"Stone stew," replied Simon. He carefully drew a spoonful of the
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thin liquid from the pot and sipped it theatrically, smacking his lips
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in satisfaction. "Almost ready." He looked up at the boy, enthusiasm in
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his voice and expression. "A good batch it is, too." His voice grew
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wistful. "All it needs is ..."
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"Is what?" the boy asked.
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"Oh," Simon replied, "if I only had some leeks. That would make it
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perfect!"
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"Well, I have some leeks!" replied the boy. "I got them back in the
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stable! Didya want me ta get them?"
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"If you want," replied Simon, casually. The boy raced off. Simon
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watched him go, stirring thoughtfully. Fortunately he had managed to
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keep a straight face while sipping the tasteless broth. At least he had
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gotten all the mud off the rocks!
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After a moment the boy was running back, a handful of limp tubers
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flopping in one hand. He thrust them at Simon.
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"'ere!"
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"Thank you, sir," Simon replied gallantly. "Here, stir," he said,
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handing the boy the spoon. Expertly Simon peeled and sectioned the
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aromatic roots, tossing them in the boiling water as the villager
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churned it, rattling the rocks against the sides of the pot. "This will
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be fine stew," admonished Simon knowingly. "It's always good with
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leeks."
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"I like leeks," remarked the boy, his face almost inside the pot.
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"Which is your house?" asked Simon slowly.
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"Oh, I don't live in a house," replied the boy, "not since Pa went
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off to fight, and Ma died."
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Simon's heart sank. An orphan to the war, living alone. How many
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others were there out there, bereft of family, fending for themselves?
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The villagers would be less likely to follow an orphan's example, to
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boot. Perhaps stone stew would be their main course tonight after all.
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"Well," he told the lad, "you will eat with me tonight. Stone stew is
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always best shared," he added, a bit louder, for the benefit of other
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ears.
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He needn't have bothered. When he looked up he saw a young woman
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watching him, a small girl peeking out from behind her ragged skirt.
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"Hello, stranger. Do you still need a place to stay tonight?" Her
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voice was soft and carefully modulated. No doubt torn between caution
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and the hope that I have some food I can share, Simon thought.
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"No," he replied, "I think I can stay out here." He made a show of
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stirring the 'stew'.
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"What's in the pot?" she asked.
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"Stone stew," he replied, thinking hard. This wouldn't be as easy
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as the boy. What would a woman like that have tucked away?
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"It's good stew, too!" announced his first helper, startling Simon.
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"Even better than potato soup!"
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Simon gratefully took the cue. "Not that there's anything wrong
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with potato soup," he quickly amended. "Why, even stone stew tastes
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better with a potato or two."
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"It does?" remarked the boy, almost disappointed.
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"Well, I have some potatoes, if it helps," replied the woman, a ray
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of hope in her voice.
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"It would, thank you," replied Simon. "Perhaps you and your
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potatoes could join us."
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With a nod she sloshed off for her contribution, leaving her little
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girl to stare at them. The boy leaned over to Simon. "You didn't have to
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ask *her*," he sneered. "She's got *lots* of stuff, 'cause she don' give
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*nothin* to nobody else!"
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"Now, now," Simon replied calmly, "it's very hard these days, and
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people are just afraid to share, that's all. We need to show them that
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giving something away doesn't mean you have less." He let the boy ponder
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that thought as the woman returned, a small basket in her hands.
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By the time the potatoes were cut to Simon's specifications, two
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more villagers had appeared, both older women. Simon repeated his
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sipping act for them, this time with actual appreciation, as the flavor
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of the broth had begun to develop. His praise of the sauce was tempered
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this time by a reference to herbs.
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"Ah, I've got some niiice broot-weed," replied the one woman, "just
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the thing for stone stew!"
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"Nooo," hissed the other, "not for stone stew! For that you need
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cabbage and dill!"
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"No you don't!" replied the first, her voice getting shrill.
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"Oh, you've never made a good batch of stone stew in your life!"
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announced the second. She turned to Simon. "I'll be getting the cabbage
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and dill!" she replied firmly, then tottered off, the first nagging
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behind her. Simon looked at the young woman and the boy, who both rolled
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their eyes. Every village has at least one, Simon thought. This one's
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got two. He almost chuckled at the old crone's comment. She was truthful
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in spite of herself -- the other woman never had made a batch of stone
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stew! He then shuddered at her mention of the bitter weed. He almost
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wished he could dig into his pack for some more of his hard-bought
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hoard, but that would ruin the illusion, and perhaps the villagers
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growing generosity. He sighed, resigning himself to whatever mess he and
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the others ended up with.
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And so on it went, with people showing up in ones and twos, until
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most every villager had made an appearance. Each returned to their
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respective humble abodes, some for carrots, some for a few crusts of
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bread, some for salted meat. Finally Simon's pot was full, and with the
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whole village gathered around Simon could no longer smell the awful
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scent that had first greeted him.
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"This has got to be one of the best pots of stone stew I've ever
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made!" shouted Simon to the lot, who gave vent to a cheer as they stood
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around, bread and bowls in hand. Simon carefully lifted out the four
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rocks and carefully set them aside, their purpose served. "And you can
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keep these, for your next batch of stone stew," he admonished the group.
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When no response came he looked up. Each person was staring fixedly
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across the common, a peculiar expression on their faces.
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Simon stood and looked to where the road emptied into the village.
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There, walking slowly forward, were five men. Their expressions were
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haggard, and by the postures of both groups Simon could tell they were
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strangers here. One of the newcomers, taller than the others, shuffled
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and carried a dead goose. One other was carrying a bow, and all had
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swords. As they drew closer and stopped, Simon realized that they were
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all wearing their cloaks inside out, the seams showing. One had strange
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stitching on his right breast. It took Simon only a moment to realize he
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was looking at the reverse of a insignia.
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"Beinison turncoats," muttered someone tensely. Simon took a sharp
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breath. The familiar stench had returned.
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The Beinison deserters stopped in a line, staring tensely, but the
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tall one continued shuffling forward after the others had stopped. His
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face was set in the slack expression of one not too bright. He peered at
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the group, and his eye caught sight of the pot. There was a long moment
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of silence, then he smiled loosely and spoke.
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"What'cha cookin'" he asked.
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Simon looked down at the fire. A few shavings of latchet-wood had
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fallen to one side, and Simon now nudged them back into the fire. Again
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the fragrance arose.
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"Stone stew," replied Simon simply.
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"Huh," chuckled the big one. "I've had that before. Do yuh need a
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goose?" He raised the animal high, drawing started looks from all on
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both sides.
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Simon smiled at the wisdom in the simpleton's words. "We need
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whatever anyone will share with us."
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"Okay," replied the man. He gave the goose a good hard look, then
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turned back to Simon. "Do yuh have to pluck 'em first?"
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========================================================================
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Last Stand
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|
by Max Khaytsus
|
|
<khaytsus@alumni.cs.colorado.edu>
|
|
Sy 24-28, 1014
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|
|
"I forbid you to go in!" Jenye looked the man straight in the eyes.
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"And you're being paid to listen to me!"
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"Out of my way, bitch!" the man growled.
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Jenye stood her ground. "Keep it up and I'll have you cut off!"
|
|
He shoved her hard against the wall and walked past, not having any
|
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real reason to listen to her. She could do what she threatened, but then
|
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she would need to be alive to make good on the threat.
|
|
Jenye gasped, trying to catch her breath, her back against the
|
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doorway wall as Sharks' Cove town guards streamed into the Abyssment.
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|
Since the battle in the bay between the Baranurian and Beinison fleets a
|
|
few days before, the town guard had started to cover their tracks,
|
|
destroying evidence of their deeds. It was only a matter of time before
|
|
the Baranurian Army would dedicate their attention to the town and then
|
|
all those who had taken the wrong side in the war would probably be put
|
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to death.
|
|
"All right, folks!" the man who pushed Jenye aside called out
|
|
loudly, "we know who owns this property and what goes on here. We're
|
|
putting an end to it. If you would all get up and proceed upstairs,
|
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there will be no trouble."
|
|
The sound of voices elevated, turning into a buzz as the patrons
|
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talked among themselves. The conversations were hesitant and concerned,
|
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some not knowing what the sergeant was talking about.
|
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"Now, folks!" he prompted them and a few of the guardsmen drew
|
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their swords. People slowly started gathering and streamed upstairs,
|
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fearful of what could happen.
|
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"You too, hog-face," the sergeant yelled at Eli. "Drop the bottle
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and go."
|
|
"Get a move on!" a guard across the room yelled at a young man and
|
|
swung his sword at the patron's legs. The flat of the blade connected
|
|
with the man's knees, sending him tumbling to the ground. A few of the
|
|
patrons turned on the guard in annoyance, but more swords appeared,
|
|
aborting the short-lived rebellion.
|
|
Eli shook his head, but refused to argue with the polished blade
|
|
brandished before him. He put the wine bottle down, wiped his hands with
|
|
a rag and followed his customers up the stairs as the sergeant continued
|
|
to yell orders. He paused at the top one last time, throwing Jenye a
|
|
concerned look.
|
|
"And don't you worry about the doctor, pops," the sergeant laughed.
|
|
"She'll be right up as soon as we're finished here."
|
|
He walked across the room, looking around as his men saw to the
|
|
remaining people. The crowd of the twenty or thirty patrons quickly
|
|
disappeared up the stairs.
|
|
"All right," the sergeant announced when only the guards remained
|
|
in the main room of the Abyssment, "take anything you want, spill the
|
|
hard liquor on the floor and move it! We don't have all night!"
|
|
"Caligula's going to have you hunted down like a dog," Jenye
|
|
warned.
|
|
"No he won't," the sergeant grinned. "There won't be anyone left to
|
|
tell him." He picked up a glass with a clear liquid, clearly a strong
|
|
alcohol. "You see, you'll help us out with that. You'll get to spread
|
|
the fire!" and with those words, the contents of the glass hit Jenye in
|
|
the chest.
|
|
"You bastard!"
|
|
"Bring me a candle, Cadel," the sergeant ordered.
|
|
With all her might, Jenye planted her knee in his groin and bolted
|
|
out the door. The sergeant sank to the floor and his astonished men just
|
|
let the doctor slip by.
|
|
"After her!" he groaned, lying on the floor and a half dozen men
|
|
hurried to follow his order.
|
|
One of the remaining guardsmen cautiously approached his superior.
|
|
"Are you all right, Sir?" he knelt by his side.
|
|
With clenched teeth, the sergeant got to his feet, not wanting to
|
|
display weakness before his men. "I want that bitch dead. Find her and
|
|
bring her to me!" He tore the lit candle from the hands of one of his
|
|
men and tossed it into one of the puddles of alcohol on the floor. The
|
|
room instantly burst into flames and the guardsmen hastily abandoned the
|
|
building.
|
|
|
|
Jenye breathlessly ran down the dark street, not knowing where she
|
|
was going, but wanting to put as much distance as possible between
|
|
herself and her pursuers. Any place would do, so long as she could
|
|
escape the men on her trail.
|
|
She suspected the night would go bad the instant she saw all those
|
|
guards appear together, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine
|
|
it would turn so deadly. Now she did not even have a place to run to.
|
|
She glanced over her shoulder at the guards running after her. They
|
|
were less than a block away and she stood little chance of losing them
|
|
by running straight down the street. They would certainly not tire out
|
|
before her.
|
|
At an intersecting street, Jenye took a sudden right and then a
|
|
left. A lot of alleys opened into this side street and she ducked into
|
|
the nearest one, hoping all the possible routes would confuse the men
|
|
chasing after her.
|
|
"Split up!" someone yelled, inspiring Jenye not to take the quick
|
|
rest she intended and she continued running. She ran out onto a street,
|
|
across the next alley, then doubled back, skipping though a narrow
|
|
corridor between two houses.
|
|
This new alley was quiet. Ever so cautiously, she snuck up to the
|
|
street to look out to see where her pursuers were, when a pair of arms
|
|
reached out from the darkness and, grabbing Jenye, pulled her into the
|
|
shadows. She struggled, trying to bite the gloved hand over her mouth,
|
|
but was unable to get very far.
|
|
"I won't hurt you," the man holding her whispered. "Please don't
|
|
scream." The hand was lifted from her mouth just as quickly as it was
|
|
placed there. She turned to look at who it was that had caught her and
|
|
let her go so quickly. The reflection of the moon on the polished metal
|
|
rendered her speechless.
|
|
"You're ..." They were less than a foot apart.
|
|
"Shhh."
|
|
Jenye looked up and down the alley, for the first time noticing a
|
|
light floating in an open window. It bobbed up and down in the room,
|
|
floating as if a ghost carried it around, unsure of where to put it
|
|
down. On the street the alley opened into, a town guardsman, one of the
|
|
ones who had been chasing her from the tavern, ran by.
|
|
The reflection of the moon in the faceplate shifted as Ga'en turned
|
|
his head. "Are they after you?" he asked in a whisper.
|
|
Jenye nervously nodded. She was not sure if she should be more
|
|
afraid of him or the men who chased her, but for the time being decided
|
|
to trust the blind archer. He had, after all, saved her life once
|
|
already.
|
|
"What did you do?" he asked, turning back to the window with the
|
|
light.
|
|
"I ran away," she answered, her voice just as quiet as his.
|
|
"Oh, Doctor ..." a yell floated into the alley, carried on a sickly
|
|
sweet voice. "... we've got something for you ..."
|
|
Ga'en nervously bit his lip, not turning away from the floating
|
|
light. One of his arms encircled Jenye's waist and pulled her deeper
|
|
into the shadows. "Be quiet."
|
|
The light reached the window, revealing itself to be a candle held
|
|
by an armored man. He looked out, up and down the alley. "Come on, I
|
|
heard someone yelling!"
|
|
No answer could be heard, but he was obviously listening.
|
|
"No," he answered, "we've got enough." He stepped out through the
|
|
window and hopped to the ground. The uniform he wore was that of the
|
|
town guard. "Come on!"
|
|
A second man appeared in the window and passed him a sack. "Don't
|
|
jingle."
|
|
Ga'en raised his strung bow and nocked an arrow. It was all black,
|
|
from the arrowhead to the fletchings.
|
|
"Don't drop it," the man in the window warned his companion.
|
|
The bow string snapped and the guardsman fell over backwards, the
|
|
sack falling on his companion outside with a thunderous clattering of
|
|
metal.
|
|
'They're stealing silverware!' Jenye thought as the man knelt close
|
|
to the ground.
|
|
"You fool!"
|
|
Quiet. Ga'en readied another arrow.
|
|
"Horain?"
|
|
Still no sound.
|
|
"Horain, are you there?" The guard stood up, letting the sack lie
|
|
at his feet, and tried to look in the window.
|
|
Ga'en's bow string snapped again, sending the arrow at the
|
|
robber-guardsman. The man staggered forward and collapsed against the
|
|
wall of the building, over his ill-gotten loot.
|
|
"You're a physician?" Ga'en asked without looking away from the men
|
|
he had shot.
|
|
Jenye nodded.
|
|
"It must be a busy time for you, this summer."
|
|
She cautiously reached up and touched the helmet visor, solid over
|
|
the eyes. It radiated magic, but she could tell little about the source
|
|
or the origin.
|
|
Ga'en took a step back, out of her reach. "You know who I am?"
|
|
Jenye nodded again.
|
|
"And you're not afraid?"
|
|
"It was somewhere here!" Rushing feet sounded at the mouth of the
|
|
alley as two men entered from the street. Jenye pressed herself against
|
|
the wall, recognizing them. She was not sure what she could do or what
|
|
she could expect of Ga'en.
|
|
"Are you sure?" the second man asked the first.
|
|
Ga'en drew two arrows from his quiver, holding them in one hand.
|
|
"Had to be. The bitch probably slipped on something." Their
|
|
intentions were easily recognizable, their swords drawn and postures
|
|
ready for a fight.
|
|
Ga'en pulled back on the string, the arrow ready to do its calling.
|
|
"I was thinking," the second guardsman said, "if we find her first,
|
|
we don't have to bring her back right away, do we?"
|
|
Ga'en changed his aim.
|
|
"No," the first man smirked and the one who offered the idea
|
|
started laughing. The string of the bow snapped once again and the laugh
|
|
abruptly stopped.
|
|
"Marque?" his companion spun around. The second arrow hit him
|
|
square in the back and he collapsed over his friend.
|
|
Ga'en lowered his bow. "Go home."
|
|
Jenye did not move, looking at him. She did not know what to do and
|
|
his words had a hard time sinking in.
|
|
"Go," Ga'en repeated. "You know who I am, you're not afraid and I'm
|
|
sure you heard I'm the one to blame for the massacre. You're welcome for
|
|
your life. Go." He turned and walked deeper into the darkness of the
|
|
alley.
|
|
"No, wait!" Jenye called to him.
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"Who are you?"
|
|
"It won't be a secret if I tell you, will it? My life depends on
|
|
this secret."
|
|
"But you're ..." He was a killer, that's all he was. A man who
|
|
stalked the night, putting arrows in backs of crooks and soldiers alike.
|
|
He was judge, jury and executioner for every person he met and he did
|
|
not bother to let his victims give him their side of the story.
|
|
Another town guardsman passed the mouth of the alley and Ga'en drew
|
|
an arrow. "How the hell many of them are after you? Who the hell are you
|
|
anyway?"
|
|
"If I tell you, you'll probably kill me."
|
|
"If you don't, I'll let them do it for me."
|
|
"I'm a doctor ..." She was not sure why that should make her
|
|
guilty, but there was a story to her life beyond that. A doctor was only
|
|
what she was. It was who she was a doctor for that she had always
|
|
feared.
|
|
"Yeah?" he asked impatiently.
|
|
"I work for Gaius Caligula."
|
|
Ga'en lowered his bow. "I won't kill you, today. Caligula is guilty
|
|
of many things, but he stood by the city these past few months. He
|
|
fought for the people and whether you know it or not, he did a lot of
|
|
good. I expect a lot of that is in what he had his people do. I'll help
|
|
you reach the Abyssment. After that you're on your own."
|
|
Jenye shook her head. She could only guess at what had happened to
|
|
the Abyssment by now. She feared that both it and the few people in town
|
|
she could call friends were now gone.
|
|
"Is there some other place you want to go?" Ga'en asked, not giving
|
|
her a chance to explain. He felt sorry for this woman, confused, on the
|
|
run, scared. "I'm running out of arrows. I can't stay here."
|
|
"There is no more Abyssment," Jenye said. "They were trying to burn
|
|
it down when I got away!"
|
|
The moon flashed menacingly across Ga'en's faceplate as he turned
|
|
to look towards the street. "Is there any other place I can take you?"
|
|
She shook her head with despair. "Everything else has already been
|
|
burned."
|
|
Ga'en shifted uneasily. He could not just leave her in these
|
|
streets -- that was not why he chose to do what he did -- but neither
|
|
did he want to take any unneeded risks. He did not know this woman, only
|
|
had her word for who she was, but at the same time knew he had little
|
|
choice. If he did not get her off the streets soon, the town guard
|
|
would, for good.
|
|
"Are you sure there's no other place?" he insisted.
|
|
Jenye nodded.
|
|
"All right," he came to a decision. He did not like it, but it was
|
|
the only choice available. He could take her to one of the places he
|
|
occasionally used to hide during the day. It would serve for the night
|
|
and then he would never use it again, since she would know about it.
|
|
"I'll take you to a place you can stay the night."
|
|
She watched him, suspicious, not sure if he could be trusted. It
|
|
seemed that killing came easy to him, that he felt no compassion towards
|
|
the people his arrows felled. Should she go with him?
|
|
"I have no other alternatives to offer you," Ga'en said, as if
|
|
sensing Jenye's concerns.
|
|
She sighed and followed him, wondering if she was doing the right
|
|
thing. For all she knew, Ga'en was little more than a cutthroat himself,
|
|
using the war to openly prey on criminals, seeming a hero when he was
|
|
little more than they himself. Of course right now many of the survivors
|
|
of Sharks' Cove wanted to see him dead themselves for the price he made
|
|
them pay such a short time ago. Almost no one was left untouched in some
|
|
way by his failed attempt on Talens' life and the massacre that
|
|
followed. But in spite of all these fears, Jenye followed him anyway,
|
|
down the maze of turning and twisting alleys, through neighborhoods she
|
|
would not dare enter during the day, much less at night, to an old,
|
|
rundown, two-story shack. It was probably all brick at one time, but now
|
|
it was half rubble, with rotting wood planks for supports and yellowing,
|
|
torn canvas for protection from the wind.
|
|
"It's as deserted as it seems," Ga'en said, brushing the canvas
|
|
aside for Jenye to enter. "But it's pretty solid and, at times, home."
|
|
She passed by him, wondering how he viewed her. What were his
|
|
thoughts, his motivations?
|
|
He followed her in, guiding her to a back room where he lit a
|
|
candle. "It's safe here. No one on the street will see the light."
|
|
Jenye leaned against a wall and permitted herself to slide down to
|
|
the floor. It had been a long, hard day, made no easier by the events of
|
|
the evening.
|
|
"Are you all right? Are you hungry?"
|
|
Jenye nodded, closing her eyes. It was hard to think about
|
|
everything that had happened to her today.
|
|
"All I have here is dry rations," Ga'en said, "like the army uses."
|
|
"I have good teeth," Jenye smiled ironically. She opened her eyes
|
|
at the sound of stone siding against stone. "Do you need a hand?"
|
|
"No, I got it," Ga'en gave the false brick cover another shove.
|
|
>From there he took a quiver full of black arrows, replacing it with the
|
|
nearly empty one he carried and also took out a tightly wrapped pack of
|
|
salted smoked meat. "No water. Sorry."
|
|
Lighting a second candle for more light, he sat by Jenye and they
|
|
divided the meal.
|
|
"Are you really blind?" Jenye asked.
|
|
Ga'en did not answer.
|
|
She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to her meal.
|
|
"I can't take the risk of telling people much about myself," Ga'en
|
|
suddenly said. "Doing what I do, I acquire a lot of enemies and
|
|
anonymity is my only protection."
|
|
"Can you blame them?" Jenye asked.
|
|
He turned to her, for the first time giving her a chance to see the
|
|
face of the helmet so close in this much light. The metal was dark,
|
|
slightly reddish, either from the flame or from some alloy combination.
|
|
The face plate, a carefully molded piece that fit over his eyes and
|
|
nose, was lighter and more reflective than the rest of the helm. It came
|
|
down to just above the tip of his nose, covering all but his lower
|
|
cheeks, mouth and jaws.
|
|
His features, what little could be seen of them, were somewhat
|
|
sharp, a little weatherworn, a bruise showing from just under the plate
|
|
over his right cheek bone.
|
|
"No, I can't ..."
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"No, I can't blame them," he repeated sadly. "I tried to help, but
|
|
I only caused more problems. Now both sides offer a reward for my head."
|
|
"How could you miss ..." Jenye muttered. It was not a question, but
|
|
it came out as one. She was simply sad to see his good intentions turn
|
|
against him, against the entire town.
|
|
"Talens?" Ga'en asked. "I didn't. I never even saw him. They set me
|
|
up. I think he left town to join the war up-river before they tried to
|
|
blame the assassination on me. Trust me, if I would have gotten that
|
|
chance, he'd be dead now ... Not that it matters any longer. What's done
|
|
is done. There's no turning back the clock."
|
|
"But why did they blame you?" Jenye was not ready to believe the
|
|
story, but wanted to hear all of it.
|
|
"To turn the people on me. To make someone want to sell out. I
|
|
guess they hoped the people would find me and give me up in hopes of
|
|
stopping the massacre. And if that didn't work, I'm sure they held the
|
|
hope that I fell victim to their swords." He fell silent for a moment,
|
|
biting into the smoked meat. "I must've averaged two or three kills a
|
|
night back then, at times as many as five or ten and that adds up after
|
|
two months. The local garrison had little choice."
|
|
"To set you up?"
|
|
"A price for my head wouldn't do it, so long as the people were
|
|
happy with me. They needed a reason to make people hate me. The city was
|
|
slipping from them and they were losing more men than they could
|
|
justify. They needed me dead, or at least discredited."
|
|
"I'm sorry ..." It seemed like it could be the truth, but Jenye did
|
|
not feel like much of a judge to decide. For now she would treat Ga'en
|
|
with the same caution she treated the men in Caligula's employ.
|
|
"So am I," Ga'en responded to her reaction, his voice quieter than
|
|
before.
|
|
"What will you do now? People won't just forgive you, even if they
|
|
find out you were set up. This all started with you anyway -- you know
|
|
they'll need to blame someone."
|
|
"I know," Ga'en said thoughtfully. He fell quiet for a long time,
|
|
then added, "Stay here, then move on, when I'm no longer needed."
|
|
"Not needed? In this town?" A smile appeared on her lips, as if
|
|
reminded of some old joke.
|
|
"There was a time before I came here," Ga'en said. "This city
|
|
survived. I'll stay until the army takes charge of the town, then move
|
|
on. It'll make it without me, just like it has for the last few
|
|
centuries."
|
|
"Where will you go?" Jenye wondered. "Where are you from?"
|
|
Ga'en settled against the wall at his back. "Doesn't my name tell
|
|
you?"
|
|
"Perhaps where you're from, not where you'll go."
|
|
"I'm sure there are plenty of places that can use my help," Ga'en
|
|
said. "Sharks' Cove is one of many."
|
|
Jenye nodded in agreement. "There are a lot of cities now that need
|
|
help."
|
|
He shifted, then stood up. "You're welcome to spend the night here,
|
|
but I must go."
|
|
"Why?"
|
|
"This city needs my help now. The night is here and I do my work
|
|
under the cover of darkness. Besides, I can't stay here with you. We
|
|
don't know each other. It's a big risk for both you and me," Ga'en
|
|
explained. "Just promise me one thing. I helped you tonight. Pass this
|
|
favor on. Help someone else. If I can light this fire and the people can
|
|
keep it burning, then I think we can change the city, with or without
|
|
me, in spite of all the rumors that exist about me."
|
|
Jenye smiled, remembering what she did for Barar, the little boy
|
|
whose dreams were invaded by the horrors of the war. Perhaps the
|
|
knowledge that someone somewhere did something good for him, without
|
|
asking for anything in exchange, would set him on a better path in life.
|
|
"This is the second time you've helped me," she told Ga'en.
|
|
"Then promise me you'll help two people," he said and after she
|
|
did, turned to leave, but before exiting the room, he stopped and turned
|
|
to her. "Out of curiosity, when was the other time?"
|
|
"A month ago. When the warehouses by the river were being burned."
|
|
"I'm sorry," Ga'en shook his head. "I don't recall. That was right
|
|
after the massacre started? I helped many people then. It was a busy
|
|
time."
|
|
"Thank you," Jenye said again.
|
|
He nodded. "Good-bye."
|
|
After Ga'en left, Jenye blew out one of the candles and moved to
|
|
one of the far corners of the room, setting the remaining burning candle
|
|
in a gap between two bricks in the wall, to reduce the amount of light
|
|
being cast.
|
|
Ga'en was nothing like she imagined. He was polite, kind,
|
|
thoughtful. He looked handsome, or at least his lower jaw did. In all
|
|
the time he was with her, he did not remove even one glove. Just like
|
|
words, hands can tell a lot about a person.
|
|
Jenye also thought he had a trace of a southern dialect, but if he
|
|
did, it was so slight it could easily be overlooked.
|
|
She closed her eyes, thinking about his request. He wanted to
|
|
change the world, one person at a time, if that was what it took. An
|
|
interesting idea, but one she did not believe to be accomplishable.
|
|
Greed and corruption would quickly see to that.
|
|
The help that she herself offered Barar was probably more out of
|
|
pity for his condition than anything else. He was, after all, just a
|
|
little boy, only seven summers old. She doubted she would do the same
|
|
for an adult. Perhaps that just went to say that she was an equal part
|
|
of the problem.
|
|
And then there was Rien. She was still unsure if he used her or if
|
|
she tried to use him. Either way, she was both happy and sorry to see
|
|
him go. She really liked him, but his vengeful streak scared her, while
|
|
his loyalty to friends made her hesitant to let him go. She almost
|
|
chased after him, naked, into the street that morning he left, but
|
|
something held her back, be it modesty or recognition that they might
|
|
not be compatible, or even fear of entering a lifestyle such as his.
|
|
Either way, he did say there was someone else and she did not want to
|
|
stand in the way of that. She thought herself to have more morals than
|
|
breaking up an existing romance, even if it was in trouble, like he
|
|
said.
|
|
Somehow, lost in all her thoughts and memories, Jenye drifted off
|
|
to sleep.
|
|
|
|
Jenye opened her eyes to a perfectly dark room, the candle she had
|
|
left burning having long since burned itself out. She recalled Ga'en's
|
|
comment that no one outside would be able to see the light of the
|
|
candle. Conversely, that meant that outside light would also be unable
|
|
to penetrate inside the remnants of the house. But was it day or night?
|
|
How long could that candle have burned?
|
|
Jenye got up and feeling her way along the wall, made her way to
|
|
where she remembered the entrance to be.
|
|
The weather outside was gloomy, with overcast skies and a moderate
|
|
wind. She guessed the time to be mid-morning, but there was no good way
|
|
to tell. She paused, contemplating where to go and what to do. The world
|
|
she knew had ceased to exist the day before, or so she suspected.
|
|
Nonetheless, it would be a good idea to check if the Abyssment was still
|
|
standing and if so, how much of it had survived. She still had no idea
|
|
of what to do afterwards -- certainly if the Abyssment still stood, she
|
|
could not take shelter there -- but she had to know what had happened
|
|
after she left, no matter how frightening that truth could be.
|
|
The streets of Sharks' Cove were deserted, much as they had been
|
|
since the start of the invasion. Jenye expected that she could travel
|
|
the entire way without encountering anyone, but to her surprise, on one
|
|
of the streets she found the remnants of a recent battle. The first sign
|
|
of it were two Benosian soldiers lying in the middle of the street. The
|
|
first man she saw startled her, half sitting with his back against the
|
|
wall where he had apparently fallen. For a moment she did not notice his
|
|
loose grip on his sword and the hollow stare in his eyes, but as she
|
|
backed away from him, she saw the deep cut in his side from which blood
|
|
had drained and poured down the street in a little snaking river.
|
|
Judging by the size of the blood puddle, Jenye had no doubt he was long
|
|
dead.
|
|
The other man lay face-down in a pile of rubble, spread over some
|
|
broken planks that had no doubt impaired his movement when he tried to
|
|
run. In his back was a single cut that must have been his undoing.
|
|
The second sign of battle was a blood trail starting in the middle
|
|
of the street and leading into the alley. It clearly did not belong to
|
|
either of the dead soldiers and indicated a third serious injury.
|
|
Although the trail appeared quite fresh, there was quite a bit of blood
|
|
and Jenye wondered if whoever spilled it could have survived up to now.
|
|
It did not take long for her to decide to change her destination and see
|
|
where the trail led.
|
|
Jenye cautiously stepped around the corner where the trail
|
|
disappeared, to look at what was there. For a moment her heart sank as
|
|
she tried to sort out the uniforms on the men both standing and lying on
|
|
the ground. There must have been a half dozen men dead, wearing both
|
|
Baranurian and Beinison uniforms and even more men standing. It appeared
|
|
as if the Baranurian side had won.
|
|
The last person Jenye noticed was the one she should have seen
|
|
first, a teenager, probably sixteen, certainly no older than eighteen,
|
|
wearing a Baranurian military tabard, charging full speed for the
|
|
street. They both should have seen each other, but instead he collided
|
|
into her, grabbing her just in time to prevent her from falling, but
|
|
almost falling on top of her.
|
|
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he gasped, maneuvering around her. On her
|
|
forearm, where he grabbed her to prevent her from falling, he left a
|
|
bloody smear, although he seemed to be in too good a shape for it to
|
|
have been his own blood. Suspecting where the blood was really from,
|
|
Jenye hurried into the dead-end alley, hoping she was not too late.
|
|
Almost immediately a man ran up to her. "Are you a doctor?"
|
|
She nodded.
|
|
"Lieutenant! Jeser found one!" the man yelled, then grabbing
|
|
Jenye's arm, pulled her to the group of soldiers. "Come on!"
|
|
On the ground not far away lay a man, bleeding from his gut like a
|
|
stuck pig.
|
|
"Right here," the soldier guided her.
|
|
"The sergeant took a shot protecting the boy," a man already there
|
|
said, speaking with a thick Magnus dialect.
|
|
Jenye paused, looking at him. What boy? Where was their doctor? Why
|
|
were the two armies still fighting in Sharks' Cove, after the Beinison
|
|
fleet had been decisively defeated?
|
|
"Are you a doctor?" he demanded, seeing her hesitation.
|
|
"Yes," Jenye looked at the soldier on the ground. "Get me some
|
|
water," she said as she moved the loose bandages that someone had
|
|
applied, in order that she could see the wound. Blood practically
|
|
bubbled over the gash in his side. A waterskin was passed to her and she
|
|
used it to wash out the wound, realizing how thirsty she herself was,
|
|
not having had anything to drink since the day before, but she used all
|
|
the water on the wound, although the blood quickly flowed over what she
|
|
washed.
|
|
"Lieutenant?" one of the gathered crowd asked.
|
|
"Wait," the accented voice answered.
|
|
Jenye, not having any of her equipment or aides, placed her hand
|
|
over the wound spilling blood and started her spell. It would have been
|
|
easier if she had been able to route her energies through a crystal or
|
|
used something designed to slow bleeding and seal wounds, but this was
|
|
the best she had and it would have to do the job or the soldier would
|
|
die.
|
|
After a time she lifted her blood-stained hand off the wound,
|
|
drained, but successful. She leaned back against somebody, catching her
|
|
breath.
|
|
"Are you all right, ma'am?" the soldier behind her asked.
|
|
"Yes," she gasped. "I'm fine."
|
|
The soldier moved, letting the lieutenant sit next to her. "Are you
|
|
sure you're all right?"
|
|
She nodded. "It was a pretty deep wound."
|
|
He passed her a waterskin and she gladly accepted it, thirsty as
|
|
she was.
|
|
"Are you from the Royal Duchy?" the lieutenant asked.
|
|
"From Magnus," she said, having relieved her thirst.
|
|
"Magnus? What part?"
|
|
"The Old City. Merchant quarter."
|
|
"You're a long way from the high ground ..."
|
|
Jenye leaned forward again to check the sergeant's wounds.
|
|
Everything seemed fine and she once again settled down, satisfied with
|
|
her work. "Where are you from?"
|
|
"Well, we have the place back home called the Fifth Quarter ... You
|
|
might've heard of it."
|
|
Jenye smirked. The Fifth Quarter was a place almost as well known
|
|
as the Royal Castle. "Your man won't be able to travel on his own for a
|
|
while, but he's going to live."
|
|
"Can we carry him?"
|
|
"Sure."
|
|
"Yaris, prepare a litter!" the Lieutenant yelled. Both he and Jenye
|
|
stood up. "Thank you for your help," he said. "I don't know what we
|
|
would've done without you."
|
|
"It was my pleasure," she answered. She had never felt bad about
|
|
restoring a life.
|
|
He took her hand and brought it to his cheek in the old tradition
|
|
of Magnus. "Lieutenant Donric Fagizo itas Senwynn, Third Baranurian
|
|
Regulars."
|
|
"That's a pretty long name for someone from the Fifth Quarter," she
|
|
took her hand back. "Jenye Calyd, I'm sure you heard I'm a doctor."
|
|
"For my men you'll always be a doctor first," Donric answered. "If
|
|
I may," he added, "could I ask you to join my men and me at our
|
|
regiment's camp? We could use an extra hand with the injured and I'm
|
|
sure the Captain will be more than happy to compensate your efforts
|
|
generously."
|
|
Jenye still wanted to see what had happened to the Abyssment, but
|
|
she was also afraid of what she might find once she would get there and
|
|
after a short thoughtful pause, agreed to help the army for a few days.
|
|
|
|
At the main camp of the Baranurian force, in what at one time used
|
|
to be one of Sharks' Cove's many prospering markets, Jenye was
|
|
introduced to a grey-haired middle-aged man with mutton chops a good
|
|
five shades darker than the rest of his hair. His name was Hargro
|
|
Nephrendge, a career officer, son of a minor noble, whose only goal in
|
|
life was to some day defeat the enemy and save his country.
|
|
"You're kidding," Jenye said to Donric.
|
|
"No, I'm absolutely serious," the Lieutenant said. "Years ago, when
|
|
I first joined this regiment, I thought this was funny, but over the
|
|
years he won my confidence and these last few months erased those doubts
|
|
for good. He really was born to do this. You'll see ..."
|
|
And she did see the forceful way in which the captain gave orders
|
|
and made decisions. He seemed to be the constant center of activity,
|
|
dozens of men swarming about him, some coming to him, others leaving.
|
|
They rotated rather quickly, making his time limited and permitting him
|
|
to only exchange a few words with Jenye.
|
|
"Doctor, we'll have to talk more at dinner," he promised as he tore
|
|
himself away from his men for a moment. "Senwynn, be sure she's there.
|
|
And get that patrol off! I want the perimeter pushed out to the next
|
|
major street before sunset!"
|
|
"Come on," Donric told Jenye. "That's probably all we'll get from
|
|
him now. He's a firm believer in being in the middle of all his fights."
|
|
"I meant to ask you," Jenye said as they left, "where are your
|
|
doctors?"
|
|
"Mostly here. We try not to spread them out in the field. We need
|
|
them there more, but they're not soldiers. We need to protect them and
|
|
that takes away from our strength. Ideally, when we have a large force
|
|
moving out, we keep them to the rear. That way they're available when
|
|
they're needed and not in any serious danger when they're not. It costs
|
|
us in lives, but not as much as it would if we lost good healers in
|
|
battle."
|
|
Jenye nodded, the explanation making sense. "I guess I'm ready to
|
|
get to work, then."
|
|
"That will be at the other end of the square," Donric said. "We're
|
|
sharing it with a militia regiment. We push the sweeps and the perimeter
|
|
and they maintain it and pick up the injured. I'll take you to where the
|
|
doctors are and then I have to lead another patrol."
|
|
|
|
For Jenye the day passed as if in a dream, or more precisely, a
|
|
quickly moving nightmare. With eight other doctors present, the number
|
|
of injured that passed her was not as great as what she tackled
|
|
single-handedly a month before when the massacre took place. She was
|
|
given a medical kit confiscated from a Benosian doctor and a pouch of
|
|
magical aides scavenged off an enemy mage. She scavenged them and other
|
|
things she came across for tools she could use and found some items that
|
|
were extremely helpful, especially the multi-faced crystals and a small
|
|
power stone that helped her control her fatigue.
|
|
To Jenye's surprise, most of the army doctors did not seem skilled
|
|
enough to deal with the injuries that came in. They could take care of
|
|
bruises and cuts, mend broken bones, but injuries that dealt with muscle
|
|
tissue and vital organs often went mistreated and she tried to pick up
|
|
that slack, puzzled over why these doctors could not get the job done.
|
|
Shortly after sunset the fighting ended and no more injured came
|
|
in. The present wounded were resting, for the most part; some were still
|
|
being worked on, and the less lucky ones were being moved from to the
|
|
far end of the market square and arranged in neat rows, pending
|
|
identification and disposal.
|
|
Jenye did one last check of her patients, taking the time to talk
|
|
with those who could, taking a closer look at those whose wounds were
|
|
more serious. Satisfied that no other emergencies would arise with these
|
|
men, she relaxed by a fire, drinking water from a waterskin. She was
|
|
offered some watered-down ale, but turned it down. She did not like
|
|
alcohol and would not drink it in the best of times, much less now. And
|
|
after a day such as this, she considered the old leather bag with warm
|
|
water to be a great luxury in her possession.
|
|
"Mind if I sit here?" an elderly voice disturbed Jenye's rest.
|
|
She slowly turned to face Doctor Iun Iter Krentenyent, the
|
|
regiment's senior physician. "Of course, Doctor." She was tired and a
|
|
little overwhelmed by the day she spent here. The elderly physician had
|
|
helped her set up and get started and provided some initial equipment
|
|
for her. He stayed at her side early in the afternoon, watching her
|
|
work, making sure that she indeed knew what she was doing, but after
|
|
seeing her handle a few of the injured, asked her to watch over the less
|
|
skilled physicians as she worked and left her alone.
|
|
After brushing aside the dust on the ground, Iun sat down by Jenye.
|
|
He was a minor noble from an old family, also from Magnus, a physician
|
|
with this regiment for many years.
|
|
"You did a good job today," he muttered, taking out an old pipe and
|
|
a pouch of tobacco.
|
|
She glanced at him as he began stuffing the pipe. "I had to, or
|
|
they'd die."
|
|
"How many'd you save?" he asked, picking up a small dry branch and
|
|
holding it in the fire.
|
|
"Two ... Two died."
|
|
"That's not what I asked."
|
|
"I didn't count. I don't count the living. They won't compensate
|
|
the families of the dead."
|
|
Iun lit his pipe with the burning branch and tossed it back into
|
|
the fire. "You must've worked on two dozen people. Two dead of that
|
|
number is nothing."
|
|
Jenye wanted to answer, but the physician did not stop.
|
|
"I know what you want to say -- everyone who hasn't been in a war
|
|
says it. But how many would die if you were not here? Did you ever
|
|
consider that?"
|
|
"So what did I do? Heal them so they can go and try to get killed
|
|
again?"
|
|
"You're one of those," Iun let out a laugh. "What little comfort
|
|
this may offer you, it was not Baranur that started this war."
|
|
"How many of them did you save more than once?" Jenye asked.
|
|
"I personally? Some. I don't deny that a single injury will not
|
|
temper them against future harm, but my healing them will temper
|
|
Baranur."
|
|
Jenye sighed. She did not like this discussion. He was a stubborn
|
|
old man, a career military doctor, and he seemed to be one of the two
|
|
doctors available who could deal with the more serious wounds. "Why are
|
|
so many of the staff unable to cope with the tougher injuries?" she
|
|
cautiously inquired of him. She did not want to call his people
|
|
incompetent, although one or two of them were.
|
|
Iun chewed on his pipe for a while, thinking how to best answer
|
|
Jenye's question. He was acutely aware of the problem, had complained
|
|
about it many times, but had never seen a resolution satisfactory to
|
|
him.
|
|
"Experience, I suppose," he finally muttered. "Everything's a
|
|
matter of experience. Have you had much with these sorts of injuries?"
|
|
"Fourteen years ..."
|
|
"Fourteen?" He took out his pipe. "How old are you, if you don't
|
|
mind my asking?"
|
|
"Thirty-one."
|
|
"Forgive me, you look younger." He put the pipe back in his mouth
|
|
and inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma of the tobacco. "But as I was
|
|
saying, cuts and bruises are common and we all learn to treat them early
|
|
on. Later we're even told not to bother with them because they're so
|
|
superficial. Broken bones are also rather common -- show me someone who
|
|
never had one and I'll show you a scribe's son.
|
|
"But the injuries we see on the battlefield are different. They go
|
|
beyond surface tissue. They cut veins and muscles and sink into bone.
|
|
These ... these are the ones we need to teach the new doctors to work
|
|
on, but the only place to get that sort of experience is in a place like
|
|
this, in a war."
|
|
"Hmmm ... I guess that sounds reasonable enough," Jenye said
|
|
thoughtfully, "but I myself don't recall having these sorts of problems
|
|
when I was learning."
|
|
"Perhaps you were just eased into it, unlike the people here.
|
|
Gradual exposure often works much better," Iun said.
|
|
"I did have a good master teaching me ..." Jenye mused.
|
|
"Whom?" he asked out of curiosity.
|
|
"Graveakim Ercarn."
|
|
"Graveakim the Great? From Magnus?"
|
|
"The same," Jenye shrugged it off.
|
|
"My God, girl, what are you doing in Sharks' Cove? You can work
|
|
where ever you want, on your own terms! Graveakim was one of the best!"
|
|
"If he were so great, why is he dead now?"
|
|
"You're a very stubborn woman," Iun warned. "Don't let that trait
|
|
rule your life. Now, why Sharks' Cove?"
|
|
Jenye shrugged. "This just seemed like the place to end up."
|
|
"End up!" Iun took the pipe from his mouth. "After the war I want
|
|
you to look my family up in Magnus, in the Old City. I'll let them know
|
|
to expect you. My brother can help you start a practice in Magnus."
|
|
"Thank you, Doctor, but ..."
|
|
"Don't turn me down!" he snapped, "not until you know what it is to
|
|
work like a real doctor, not in this rat hole! You're wasting your
|
|
skills here!"
|
|
"I'm saving lives!"
|
|
"You can save them anywhere you go."
|
|
"But no one will save them here when I leave."
|
|
"I can't force you," Iun finally said, "but I want you to think
|
|
about what I said seriously. In a proper practice you can do a lot more
|
|
than you think."
|
|
"I'll think about it," Jenye promised.
|
|
"Good. My offer will stand until you accept it."
|
|
"Thank you," she forced a smile.
|
|
"Don't thank me until you do what I ask," Iun stressed. "You're an
|
|
excellent doctor. I would gladly let all my staff here go if I could get
|
|
a physician or two as skilled as you are."
|
|
"I'll stay and help until the city is secured," Jenye promised,
|
|
having seen firsthand how desperate the need for more healers was.
|
|
"Thank you for your kindness," the elderly physician said. He took
|
|
the pipe out of his mouth for the last time and shaking the ash into the
|
|
fire, stood up. "I have to make my rounds. Have a good evening and thank
|
|
you again."
|
|
He left Jenye by the fire with a lot to think about. His offer to
|
|
help her start a practice in Magnus was more than generous, but she did
|
|
not know if she could leave Sharks' Cove behind, not that there was
|
|
anything holding her here. Many of her friends were dead, her home was
|
|
burned to the ground; the Abyssment was probably gone as well. And most
|
|
importantly, the man she had followed out here many years ago had proven
|
|
himself to be a thief and a liar. She was amazed at how she could remain
|
|
in this city, so filled with bad memories, but this was not the first
|
|
time she had felt this despair. Usually these bad moods passed and she
|
|
could start enjoying life again, but somehow she had to admit that this
|
|
city would never be the same for her again.
|
|
"Doctor?" a boyish voice called to Jenye and she turned to look,
|
|
thankful for the possible distraction. A teenager, the same one she met
|
|
running from the alley that morning, stood a few paces away.
|
|
"More wounded?" she started to get up, not knowing how long she had
|
|
been sitting there alone.
|
|
"No, ma'am," he approached. "I wanted to thank you."
|
|
"I'm just doing my job," she shrugged it off.
|
|
"No, you don't understand," he protested. "That man you saved, the
|
|
sergeant. He's my father ..."
|
|
"Oh ..." she was at a loss for words.
|
|
"So I just came here to thank you for doing it," he went on, "and
|
|
ask if I can do anything for you."
|
|
"You're welcome," she answered. "That's what I'm here for, I guess.
|
|
How old are you?"
|
|
"Fourteen, ma'am."
|
|
"Fourteen?" He looked older, more mature. He acted older than that.
|
|
"Yes, ma'am."
|
|
"You shouldn't be in a war! You should be home."
|
|
"This is home, ma'am. My father and I had to fight to win it back."
|
|
"And your mother?" Jenye wondered.
|
|
"She died a few years after I was born."
|
|
"I'm sorry ..."
|
|
"It's all right, ma'am," he brushed his unkempt hair back. "It's
|
|
been a long time. My father and I, we manage."
|
|
"How is he?" she asked, forgetting if she had checked on him during
|
|
her rounds. She tried to be methodical, but there were simply too many
|
|
injured soldiers.
|
|
"Better, ma'am. He told me to ask you if there's anything I can
|
|
do."
|
|
Jenye thought for a moment, then answered. "When you're older and
|
|
have children of your own, teach them how to live without having wars."
|
|
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, a little embarrassed.
|
|
She turned back to the fire as the boy left, hoping he would live
|
|
long enough to have children of his own and make good on that promise.
|
|
"That was well said," an unexpected voice startled Jenye, making
|
|
her jump.
|
|
"I'm sorry," Donric sat down by her. "I didn't mean to sneak up on
|
|
you, but I didn't want to interrupt your talk with Jeser."
|
|
"He came to thank me for his father," she said.
|
|
"I heard," Donric said. "His father is a good man. I guess I should
|
|
thank you on behalf of the Third and the militia and everyone else
|
|
you've helped."
|
|
"You're spreading yourself very thin," Jenye hid a smile.
|
|
"What choice have I got? I'm already mother and father to my men,
|
|
their best friend, big brother ..."
|
|
"And what are they to you?"
|
|
He gave it some thought. "People who have families and homes, who
|
|
don't belong here any more than you or me."
|
|
"Then why are you still here? What are you fighting for? Hasn't the
|
|
war been won? The enemy fleet defeated?"
|
|
Donric laughed, catching himself. "It's not that easy. A fleet is
|
|
just some ships. A captain here, an admiral there. Some generals, if
|
|
we're lucky. They're not the ones who fight the war. Men fight wars,
|
|
common mortal men who are no different from you or I. Just because the
|
|
Beinison fleet is sunk, the war doesn't end. All it means is that the
|
|
enemy force can't go home. The men are scared and confused. They fight
|
|
because they're afraid to surrender, afraid of what will happen to
|
|
them."
|
|
Jenye shook her head. All those lives lost because of fear. How
|
|
many could have been saved if they just gave up? How many would still be
|
|
alive if Untar had not wanted to fight?
|
|
"You look tired," Donric said. "Come have dinner with the Captain
|
|
and then you can get some rest. Tomorrow's a whole new day ... and who
|
|
knows, we may push ten more blocks ..."
|
|
"Ten blocks? That's all you took today?" It was such a small
|
|
number!
|
|
Donric nodded, offering her a hand up. "We're no longer fighting a
|
|
regular war where the cavalry, charging down the hill, can sweep the
|
|
entire battle field. We're fighting house to house, door to door. Once
|
|
we're done here, we won't have to return."
|
|
"You're not the only ones doing this, are you?" Jenye accepted his
|
|
hand.
|
|
"No, of course not. There are four regiments in the city and
|
|
reinforcements from Narragan will arrive soon."
|
|
They walked across the square, between the campfires, surrounded by
|
|
resting soldiers, to Captain Nephrendge's tent, where a dinner fire was
|
|
being started. The Captain paced back and forth before his tent,
|
|
muttering something to himself as two soldiers stood by.
|
|
"Captain, I brought Doctor Calyd."
|
|
"Good, good," he continued to pace.
|
|
Jenye looked at Donric, expecting an explanation, but none came.
|
|
"Okay, Hobin, forget the docks. Sothos wants a place for the ships
|
|
to call home, he can clear them himself. I'm not sending any men out
|
|
there when there are over a thousand naval infantry doing nothing. They
|
|
should be helping us, if anyone's to be helping at all!"
|
|
"Yes, Sir," one of the waiting soldiers said.
|
|
"Leave him the whole district," the Captain continued. "All the way
|
|
to that big street with the taverns ... What is it?"
|
|
"Sailors' Row, Sir."
|
|
"Yes. From the docks to there is the navy's problem. The rest is
|
|
ours. And tell the militia captains to enforce it!"
|
|
"Yes, Sir!"
|
|
"Dismissed." The Captain's pacing stopped right in front of Jenye
|
|
as he sent the officer away. "I'm not going to be taking misguided
|
|
orders from a wet-behind-the-ears commander."
|
|
Jenye smiled nervously.
|
|
"You're Doctor Calyd."
|
|
She swallowed. "Jenye Calyd. Jenye's fine."
|
|
"Yes, of course. I wanted to thank you for your help."
|
|
"It's my pleasure. I just want to see the war end."
|
|
"It'll end," he said confidently and walked off. "Attend me."
|
|
Jenye looked at Donric.
|
|
"Come on. We're breaking bread with him."
|
|
They followed the Captain to the campfire and sat down, Jenye
|
|
ending up between the two men. More people quickly gathered. Other
|
|
lieutenants and aides quickly took their places around the fire and the
|
|
company cook passed out shallow dishes of slop and bread.
|
|
"You weren't kidding when you said 'break bread', were you," Jenye
|
|
looked at Donric.
|
|
"It's tough, but the men like it," the Captain said, overhearing
|
|
her comment, in spite of her trying to be quiet. "They say each time
|
|
they see it, it encourages them to fight harder, so they might get home
|
|
sooner."
|
|
"It's a pity we can't fight at dinner," someone on the other side
|
|
of the fire said. "We could club the enemy to death with it, in between
|
|
grinding our teeth." Those gathered around the fire laughed as he said
|
|
it, someone else commenting that at least it encouraged them to take
|
|
good care of their teeth.
|
|
"Dip it in the soup," Donric advised. "Gives both of them a little
|
|
taste that way."
|
|
"Are you from Magnus, Doctor?" someone asked.
|
|
"From Magnus," she answered. She could not clearly see the man on
|
|
the other side of the fire.
|
|
"What are you doing in Sharks' Cove, then?" he asked another
|
|
question.
|
|
"I live here," she said, forcing down the mouthful. The food was
|
|
indescribable at best. "Have been for a few years."
|
|
"Well, both cities will need a lot of rebuilding," the Captain
|
|
declared. "No war is over, not even when the soldiers go home."
|
|
"I was just telling the doctor," Donric said, "about the difference
|
|
between generals and their men."
|
|
"Ah, yes," the Captain picked up, apparently a topic familiar to
|
|
him. He brushed his mutton chops, thinking, then went on. "History will
|
|
name Haralan, Sothos, Connall, Dargon as the men who won the war -- have
|
|
no doubts that Baranur has already won -- but they are not the ones who
|
|
are the heroes of battle. The men you see out here are. The common
|
|
people of Baranur.
|
|
"All Sothos ever said was 'take that hill' or 'siege this city'. He
|
|
knew only what our reports said and assumed what the enemy were going to
|
|
do. His orders never reached us in time of battle, giving orders for
|
|
that battle. The real heroes of the battle are the men who fought it, my
|
|
lieutenants and their sergeants, who made the snap decisions which flank
|
|
to reinforce, where to drive the wedge, what barricades to storm. Those
|
|
are the men that history should honor!"
|
|
"How can you go wrong with a guy like that commanding," the man on
|
|
Donric's right elbowed him.
|
|
"It sounds to me like that would be a very unpopular opinion with
|
|
your command, Sir," Jenye noted.
|
|
"That's why I'll never be considered for the position of Knight
|
|
Captain," Nephrendge said, "and I wouldn't want it if it were offered.
|
|
Those positions are for wet-behind-the-ears runts like Connall and
|
|
Sothos. Men of experience can do infinitely more good in the field! And
|
|
who are they, after all? What have they done? The only reason they have
|
|
their titles is because of who they know, not because of their actions!
|
|
All of my officers were selected to their positions because of their
|
|
actions in the field. Most of them are as qualified as Connall and
|
|
Sothos to do the job of Knight Captain. And some are qualified even
|
|
beyond that!"
|
|
|
|
The following three days passed uneventfully, the casualty load
|
|
becoming lighter each day. Fresh troops supplemented the old ones,
|
|
reclaiming the city and putting down little pockets of Beinison
|
|
resistance.
|
|
Jenye found out that the Abyssment still stood, although no longer
|
|
as clean and perfect as it had been a few days before, the fire having
|
|
done a lot of damage before it was brought under control. A lot of
|
|
rebuilding would have to be done before the tavern could become what it
|
|
once was, but then the city itself needed a lot of rebuilding as well.
|
|
Some conservative guesses put the local death toll at five thousand
|
|
lives, about half the city's population.
|
|
Pausing at the burned entrance to the Abyssment, Jenye cast one
|
|
last glance into the damaged main room. She had experienced so many good
|
|
and bad times in there, it was hard to let go of that large part of her
|
|
life.
|
|
"Are you ready to go, Doctor?" one of the soldiers from the patrol
|
|
she was with asked.
|
|
She nodded, not saying anything. The soldiers had simply assumed it
|
|
was a place she had frequented and did not give it a second thought, but
|
|
she knew the truth and those memories were enough to bring tears to her
|
|
eyes.
|
|
The small squad gathered and started on its way west, towards the
|
|
camp.
|
|
"Are you all right?" the soldier who had called her came over to
|
|
Jenye.
|
|
"Yes, Dasin," she answered sadly.
|
|
"You just look like you need to talk."
|
|
Jenye sighed. "Have you ever gone back to a place where you had
|
|
lived for many years, years after you left?"
|
|
"Sorry, ma'am. My family's always lived in Erygin. Seven
|
|
generations, now, with my children."
|
|
"There are certain feelings you develop for a place where you live
|
|
-- I'm sure you know what I mean -- and when you see that place after
|
|
being gone for a long time, you have a deep sense of familiarity, almost
|
|
intimacy to that place you used to call home ... But this place no
|
|
longer feels the same. Something has been lost, as if a part of me died.
|
|
I look at the fire marks, the traces of swordplay and it all strikes me
|
|
as foreign, like I've never been here before. Everything feels dead."
|
|
"I'm sorry, ma'am," Dasin offered.
|
|
"So am I," she said. "I feel like a part of me died here."
|
|
"Perhaps you should speak with Father Modu," the young soldier
|
|
offered.
|
|
"Perhaps."
|
|
They turned the corner, heading towards the docks, Jenye wondering
|
|
about the past summer and all the friends that she lost. Nothing would
|
|
ever be the same again, no matter how much rebuilding would be done,
|
|
even if it were all made to look just like it had before the war.
|
|
Nothing could ever bring lost friends back or erase memories of what had
|
|
happened to them.
|
|
"Do you mind if we make another stop here?" Jenye asked after a
|
|
couple of blocks.
|
|
"No, I guess not."
|
|
She walked up to an old building, which was falling apart from
|
|
damage, while the men spread out to explore on their own. It was the
|
|
place where Ga'en had hid her a few nights before. It looked different
|
|
in the light -- appearing to be barely able to stand on its own, torn
|
|
canopy hanging over the boarded-up windows, crumbling mud-colored brick
|
|
threatening to give way any moment. It had looked far safer in the dark
|
|
of the night.
|
|
Jenye carefully entered through the doorless entry, careful of
|
|
where she put her feet. Everything was dirty and falling apart, not even
|
|
the old furniture was intact. She found the right corridor and the
|
|
covered doorway and entered the room where she had spent the night.
|
|
Everything was pitch black.
|
|
With some effort, Jenye found and lit the unused candle she had
|
|
left behind, and looked around the room. Everything was much as she had
|
|
remembered it: the overturned broken table, the loose bricks on the
|
|
floor. Finding the block that Ga'en used as his hiding place, Jenye
|
|
tried to push it aside to see what else was behind it, but the stone
|
|
refused to budge.
|
|
After a few more unsuccessful attempts and a careful candle-light
|
|
investigation, Jenye found it to be cemented into place. But it was the
|
|
right rock, there was no doubt about that. The marks it left when it
|
|
opened were still there, slight scratches on the surface of the adjacent
|
|
stone.
|
|
Giving up, Jenye left the room, still wondering about the hiding
|
|
place and the man who called himself Ga'en the Blind. She wanted to see
|
|
him again, to ask about him and why he did what he did. These last few
|
|
days with the Baranurian army gave her a view of life she never expected
|
|
to see, something the sheltering walls of the Abyssment hid from her
|
|
sight for all these years she had been living in the city.
|
|
"Are you ready to go, Doctor?" Dasin approached her.
|
|
She nodded, not turning away from the structure.
|
|
"Was this your home?" the soldier asked, remembering what she had
|
|
said earlier.
|
|
"No ... It was a friend's."
|
|
|
|
Ga'lannath'en stood on the roof of an abandoned building, watching
|
|
the setting sun. The night would soon come and he would once again take
|
|
to the streets. They were no longer endangered by the Beinison army, but
|
|
in Sharks' Cove things rarely changed. Problems came and went, the city
|
|
changing disasters as one would change clothes, rather than fighting
|
|
back. The threat now came from street gangs and petty criminals who saw
|
|
a fast profit to be made in the city. The army did not police these
|
|
individuals, often unable to distinguish between them and their victims.
|
|
He glanced down to the alley below; then, slinging his freshly
|
|
filled quiver over his shoulder and picking up his unstrung bow, he
|
|
climbed on to the roof of the next building over, heading south towards
|
|
the docks, where most of the night activity took place. He paused to
|
|
cross the next street, spotting some soldiers on the ground. They were
|
|
Baranurian troops, nothing to fear, but it was always a good idea to
|
|
stay out of sight, even though the few times he had run into Baranurian
|
|
soldiers before, they exhibited respect for what he was doing and let
|
|
him go about his business. But in spite of his good fortune, he always
|
|
remained cautious about these meetings and did his best to avoid them
|
|
whenever he could. No need to take unnecessary chances. Instead, he
|
|
remained hidden while they looked around.
|
|
A part of the respect they gave him, he suspected, came from their
|
|
belief that he was one of them. The only name he ever used was Ga'en the
|
|
Blind, but the Beinison troops often referred to him as the Black Death,
|
|
for his dress and activities against them. This name soon became
|
|
confused with the Baranurian elite archer regiments, the Red and Grey
|
|
Deaths, units renown in the northern portions of Cherisk as the best
|
|
archers to ever fight.
|
|
Ga'en himself had never been a member of their ranks or, for that
|
|
matter, of any military at all. He learned the bow as a child from his
|
|
father and spent the better part of his three decades using it. He never
|
|
missed a stationary target and the only moving ones that managed to get
|
|
away from him were those that had a lot of luck; and even then, never
|
|
twice.
|
|
Much damage had come to his reputation during the war, when he was
|
|
accused of an attack on Admiral Talens, the Beinison Fleet Commander in
|
|
Sharks' Cove. He would not have missed if the rumors of confrontation
|
|
were true. He would have given his life to make that shot, but the lie
|
|
was taken for truth by the people and the massacre that followed was
|
|
blamed on him. Now, if he were to decide to stay in the city, it would
|
|
take a lot of work to restore his name. He was not sure he wanted to
|
|
take that time, or even remain who he was. The blind archer was someone
|
|
who fought against the Beinison force. He was no longer needed for that
|
|
purpose.
|
|
"Are you ready to go, Doctor?" a deep voice with an eastern accent
|
|
said somewhere below.
|
|
Ga'en shifted impatiently, not wanting to look down. The fewer
|
|
people saw him, the better he felt.
|
|
"Was this your home?" the same voice asked.
|
|
Ga'en neared the ledge. He used a couple of buildings on this
|
|
street to hide in occasionally and was curious who their owners might
|
|
be.
|
|
"No. It was a friend's," a familiar voice said as he looked down.
|
|
It was the woman doctor, the one he helped a few days before, because of
|
|
whom he had to abandon one of his hiding places. She had come looking
|
|
for him, but why?
|
|
He watched them go down the street, then ever so careful not to be
|
|
spotted, followed along.
|
|
|
|
"It's been very good having you here," Iun Krentenyent said,
|
|
watching the dying fire before him. "Your help was invaluable."
|
|
"Thank you," Jenye said. "These last few days have been an
|
|
eye-opening experience for me. I spent all this time living in the war
|
|
and never really understood what was happening ..."
|
|
"I doubt this is a lesson you'll want to remember," the elderly
|
|
physician said.
|
|
"Oh, I'll remember," she answered. "These are the things I may
|
|
never forget. I just hope I made a difference for some of these men ..."
|
|
"Never doubt that you did, even though you lost some."
|
|
"I lost parts of some," Jenye said bitterly, remembering the
|
|
amputations and crippling injuries she was helpless to heal. She was
|
|
hardly willing to believe that she had removed people's limbs so that
|
|
they could get better. Even in the darkest of nights, when Beinison
|
|
troops slaughtered the populace of the city for Ga'en's raids, she had
|
|
not faced wounds such as these.
|
|
"But you did save their lives," Iun insisted.
|
|
"Was it enough? I wake up at night, wondering if I should've
|
|
bothered saving parts of people ..."
|
|
"Most will get over their losses and live to be grateful to you for
|
|
saving their lives," Iun said, understanding Jenye's internal conflict.
|
|
He twisted his pipe in his hands, shaking out the tobacco ash. "I hear
|
|
their cries, too, and the curses they throw at me, but as a healer, it
|
|
is my duty to do all that I can. Grisly as it may sound, I would even
|
|
try to save a single head, if I thought I could."
|
|
Jenye had to tell herself she did not hear the last thing he said.
|
|
It was too horrible to think about. She had plenty of difficulties
|
|
thinking about the injured she had saved, the ones she did not think
|
|
stood a chance in life, even though they survived their injuries from
|
|
combat.
|
|
"Are you all right?" Iun asked.
|
|
She nodded to him, no more convincing than she felt.
|
|
"I know they're hard to deal with," he said. "The faces are there
|
|
when you close your eyes and their voices haunt you in your sleep, but
|
|
you are a doctor. You have to help them."
|
|
"I know."
|
|
"Take my advice," he repeated what he had been saying for days, "go
|
|
to Magnus. A doctor such as you would be a great asset for the Crown
|
|
City."
|
|
Jenye nodded again.
|
|
"Yes, yes. You're still thinking about it." He got up. "I guess I
|
|
can try to convince you again before you leave tomorrow morning," he
|
|
sighed.
|
|
Jenye also stood up. "You've been telling me these last few days
|
|
how much you appreciate my help," she said. "I've been meaning to tell
|
|
you how much I appreciate your support. I doubt I could have done half
|
|
of what I did if you weren't here to help me deal with this war."
|
|
"It was you who helped these men deal with it," Iun stressed.
|
|
"Don't ever forget it." And chewing on his empty pipe, he returned to
|
|
the remaining patients.
|
|
Jenye sat back down, facing the remains of the fire. She wondered
|
|
if she should throw some more wood on the hot embers, but could not get
|
|
herself to move. She was glad that she would be leaving in the morning,
|
|
but unsure of where she would go. Everything she knew in Sharks' Cove
|
|
was gone. All buildings, most people. The only friends she was able to
|
|
locate in the last few days were the ones who were dead. The rest were
|
|
missing. There was no news of Gaius Caligula since the day of the battle
|
|
at sea. Eli was nowhere to be found since after the fire at the
|
|
Abyssment. The regular tavern guards and servants were also missing,
|
|
some having turned up dead here or there. Was it worth it to stay?
|
|
Soft footsteps sounded behind her, but Jenye did not turn.
|
|
She came to the city over a decade ago with a man she thought she
|
|
could spend the rest of her life with. It had been soon after her
|
|
medical apprenticeship in Magnus ended. She had wanted to stay in the
|
|
city, to continue working with Graveakim the Great, who had almost
|
|
became a father to her, but one day he was killed in a robbery; the only
|
|
thing taken, a worthless stone glyph, that he would probably would have
|
|
given away gladly. Her illusions of a perfect life shattered, she agreed
|
|
to let her partner take her to Sharks' Cove, a place where she could
|
|
start anew, but she soon found the stone glyph in his possession and
|
|
decided to turn him in. It was a hard thing to do, to testify to the
|
|
constable against the man she loved, to force a judgment of death, but
|
|
it had been done in the name of her master, as her last duty to him. She
|
|
knew she could not live with a murderer, particularly one who had killed
|
|
a person so close to her.
|
|
"You were looking for me?"
|
|
Jenye jumped, overflowing with emotion of her thoughts.
|
|
"You're crying," Ga'en noted the obvious, removing a lengthy
|
|
bandage he wore around his neck, like many knights, and offered it to
|
|
her.
|
|
Jenye accepted, but did not use it. These tears could not be done
|
|
away with as easily as that. They were a part of her soul, to live with
|
|
forever. Perhaps it was time to face them again, to return to Magnus and
|
|
reclaim what she always expected to be hers. A good healer was always in
|
|
demand and she recognized her own value. Perhaps it was also time to
|
|
take an apprentice, to pass on the secrets of Graveakim, as he himself
|
|
had few apprentices and many of his one-of-a-kind spells died with him.
|
|
She caught herself looking straight into the helmet of Ga'en, right
|
|
where the eyes should have been, covered by the reflective metal plate.
|
|
"Why are you here?"
|
|
He seemed to be caught off guard. "You ... came looking for me
|
|
earlier today."
|
|
"I ..." She was just as confused. "I was just looking around ..."
|
|
He hurriedly stood up. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
|
|
"No, wait." Jenye started getting up and he stopped. "Please, sit
|
|
with me. I won't give you away." They were on the edge of the camp,
|
|
which had obviously made it easy for him to sneak in, especially now
|
|
that the last of the Beinison troops had been rounded up and the
|
|
perimeter guard was reduced.
|
|
Ga'en sat down by her. "The army are the only ones who don't care
|
|
about what I do. To them I'm still a hero."
|
|
"You're a hero to me," she smiled.
|
|
"Thank you."
|
|
Jenye fell silent for a moment, evaluating the decision she had to
|
|
make. Could she break ties with what she called home twice in her life?
|
|
Go on and do something different, somewhere else? But then what could
|
|
hold her here, in a city practically burned to the ground?
|
|
"Are you still thinking about leaving town?"
|
|
"I ..." Ga'en seemed surprised that he had told her of his plans
|
|
when they met before. "I ..." Another pause. Was he going to leave? He
|
|
touched his hand to a cut on his jaw, where an upset resident of the
|
|
city had struck him with a stick as a reward for having caused the
|
|
massacre. Ga'en may have been good with a bow, but in a melee he was an
|
|
amateur at best and these fights had become a regular occurrence in the
|
|
last few days. "Yeah, I think I'll be leaving soon."
|
|
Jenye reached out to him, touching her hand to his face. This time
|
|
he did not pull away. "Where will you go?"
|
|
"I don't know yet ..."
|
|
A chant she knew by heart ran inaudibly through her mind and a
|
|
light blue glow surrounded her fingertips, making the cut on Ga'en's jaw
|
|
heal. "I'd like to hire you to escort me to Magnus."
|
|
"You can travel with a returning regiment," he protested, "or take
|
|
a ship up-river."
|
|
"I asked you."
|
|
He took her hand into his and brought it to his cheek for
|
|
gratitude. "You don't know me."
|
|
"No, but I did as you asked. I spent five days here, giving life to
|
|
those who would've lost it without me."
|
|
Ga'en remained thoughtful. "How soon?"
|
|
"Tonight."
|
|
"I won't get you there tonight," he smiled.
|
|
"No, but you'll get me there sooner than if we leave tomorrow."
|
|
"Magnus ..."
|
|
"Have you been there?"
|
|
"Many times." He stood up. "How long do you need to get ready?"
|
|
"I'm ready now." She did not have many personal possessions any
|
|
more. What little survived the burning of her home, had been burned a
|
|
fortnight later in the Abyssment. All that she had, she carried with her
|
|
-- her clothes, a change she scavenged while working in the camp, a
|
|
dagger a soldier thanked her with and the medical kit with all the
|
|
tricks of the trade that Captain Nephrendge had graciously given her as
|
|
payment. It contained crystals and herbs and a few magical aides,
|
|
including a small powerstone. Expensive things that she knew the army
|
|
could use. She fiddled with the pouch on her belt and took it off,
|
|
carefully placing it by the remains of the fire. An expensive gift to
|
|
part with, but one she could live without. She was good and with skill
|
|
came opportunity. She would earn her instruments as she had done the
|
|
first time.
|
|
"I'm ready," she repeated.
|
|
"What is that?" Ga'en asked.
|
|
"Just some things I was borrowing."
|
|
"You're not taking anything else with you?"
|
|
"Just one bag -- some clothes." All of her other possessions had
|
|
already been lost to her.
|
|
He nodded, not sure why he was agreeing to do something like this.
|
|
"I guess we'd best get started."
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
It waits in the dark forest of a new frontier.
|
|
It waits for a desert warrior seeking his fortune
|
|
and a royal archer to face their greatest challenge.
|
|
But most of all, it waits for you.
|
|
Dargon: Deep Woods Inn.
|
|
In March the wait will be over.
|
|
|
|
It waits on the edge of good and evil.
|
|
It waits for a running noble
|
|
and a soldier of fortune to challenge frontier justice.
|
|
But most of all, it waits for you.
|
|
Dargon: Deep Woods Inn.
|
|
In March the wait will be over.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|