«What is the Exarch thinking now?»
They had just finished the distribution of flour the Istakian man had announced last evening, and the discussion inside the tent was heating up.
«One seventh from every tent confiscated?» said Yugis, grabbing the bag he had received. «As if what we’ve been given for one month wasn’t little enough! Is she trying to make us starve?»
«It’s not for one month. It’s for one week, idiot.» Pol answered him. Yugis was a shopkeeper, short and almost bald, while Pol worked at Elis harbor, was tall and had a full head of red hair. Fyra had never met either of them before being assigned to their tent, but during the course of these few weeks she had acquainted enough with both to know that one desperately missed his old shop, the other his colleagues, and that they cordially detested each other.
«It’s still too little!» Yugis replied. «I have two children to feed!»
«Don’t go blaming the Exarch for the fact you and your wife never learned better ways to pass the time.»
«Also, Kydalim has three times the number of children to feed, and he does not complain!» Epideks joined in. Epideks was a farmer, older than the other two, hard-working and almost humorless. Fyra didn’t dislike him, be it only because he spoke little.
«Don’t drag me into this, please.» said Kydalim, at the moment lying down aside.
Pol snorted dejectedly. He thought of himself as a very funny man, and always felt hurt when nobody laughed at his “jokes”.
«Yugis has a point, though.» said Takhys, a brown-haired woman who, like Yugis, before the flight from Elis had a shop on the main street. «What does she need all that flour for? She wouldn’t tell us.»
«Maybe she’ll store it away in case of an emergency.» said a tall and muscular boy whose name Fyra did not remember.
«Oh please, what emergency!?» said angrily a thin frail-looking woman whose name Fyra had never asked. «Our journey is over!»
«True, we are safe now.» whispered a voice Fyra did not recognize. Which was weird, she thought she had listened to enough arguments in these weeks to know by memory the timbre of every single occupant of the tent.
«Exactly!» said Takhys. «After all the time we’ve traveled, now we should have the right to relax and eat our fill. Instead it almost looks like the Exarch wants to continue to ration our food.»
«Yeah! And I’ve had enough!» Yugis slapped his hand on one leg. «I mean, this stuff…» he stopped, as if unable to continue.
«This stuff? Go on.» again that unknown voice.
«N-No, never mind.»
«“This stuff was given to us, not to the Exarch.” That’s what you wanted to say, isn’t it?»
Yugis didn’t answer, but grimness fell on the whole small group.
Fyra now was actively searching among the faces around her for the owner of the mysterious voice, but she couldn’t find him. There were Yugis, Pol, Epideks to his left, then the thin woman, the muscular boy, Takhys…
The latter hesitantly spoke: «Well, in a way that’s true. I mean, the lord of Istak gave us this gift for us to ward off our hunger, not for… whatever that girl wants to do with it.»
«“That girl” is our Exarch.» Epideks said in a harsh tone.
«Just because her father died.» Yugis replied, scathingly. «I followed him, because I knew he cared about his fellow citizens. Her, I’m not so sure.»
«Then… why keep following her?» the mysterious voice was little more than a whisper, and yet everyone heard it clearly.
And finally Fyra found him.
There, between the thin woman and the boy. He was in shadow, so she couldn’t see him clearly, but she saw his short black hair, his dark eyes… and nothing else, because the boy moved slightly and hid him from view, before saying: «We shouldn’t talk about these things.»
It was the thin woman who replied: «Oh no, we will talk about this! It’s a legitimate question! Why must we keep following her?»
Yugis echoed her: «I am a free citizen, and if I so choose I can leave this camp and go look for a house here in Istak! At least the lord Zamoshan seems to care about me and my family!»
Fyra didn’t have the habit of joining in these discussions: usually somebody, often Yugis, would shout at her to shut up and she’d have to restrain herself before she did something she’d regret; also, she was already in a bad mood for her own reasons that day, so it wasn’t worth it. But at that point she was nevertheless tempted to speak up.
«Well, good luck with that, you moron.» Pol spoke instead, louder than usual. «Do you really think you’d be better off like that? Look around you. Thing here don’t work like they did in Elis. We received that food only because we’re guests. Become a citizen of Shavek and see how your noble lord will start ignoring you! That is, if they even have the concept of “citizen” here! Open your eyes and shut your mouth!»
Fyra had to admit she couldn’t have said it better. Pol shared with her a lack of sympathy for the Exarch, and furthermore he, just like her, wasn’t stupid enough to believe that a different ruler would make his life better. They both would rather keep the one they knew.
«Pol is right.» said Kydalim, who suddenly got up and joined the group. «Enough talking about this stuff, let’s cook something with the flour we have. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s hungry.»
«Thank you, Polemos.» said old Epideks, who always used the harbor worker’s full name. «For the good of everyone, let us pretend this conversation never happened. And as Kydalim said, let us prepare something to eat. Hunger fosters ill thoughts.»
Slowly, one by one, everyone stood up and left, heading for the fire just outside the tent.
Fyra looked for the man she had caught a momentary glimpse of.
«Kydalim. Who was that?»
«“That”, who?»
«The one who asked why we should keep following the Exarch.»
«Wasn’t it Yugis? It sounded like him.»
«No, no, it was someone else.»
«If so I didn’t see him, sorry.»
Kydalim left the tent as well. And Fyra followed him, though she was unable to drive away the vague unease that had nestled in the back of her mind.
«How do you say “Hello, do you know where I can buy some green sewing thread”?»
«Why are you asking me?»
Agatha e Ark were at the well a short way from the camp, on the other side of the main road. Even to fetch the water, they had had to wade through a crowd. She was filling up her pitcher, while he already held two full ones, one in each hand.
«Because Fyra told me you have learned the language they speak here.» Agatha allowed herself a small sip, before going back. She felt pleasantly refreshed.
Ark grumbled. «I thought I had explained her, all I know is a few words I figured out.»
«Then tell me those words, for now!» She almost spilled her pitcher, but it was an urgent matter.
«Careful, with that. Why would you need green thread in the first place?»
Agatha was tempted to not answer him: she couldn’t run any risks. But there was no mockery in Ark’s tone, no malicious curiosity, only a need to understand. Yes, he wasn’t like Fyra.
«I want… I want to make Kal a present.»
«A present?»
«In two weeks it will be his birthday. And I noticed that his uniform has a tear, here, on the shoulder. It’s very important to him, so I thought I could…»
«You’ve kept count of the days leading to your birthday?» Ark seemed surprised, a rare sight.
«Well, yes, I did.»
Ark reacted with a “hm”, then started walking back toward the camp. Agatha followed him.
They walked slowly, because the pitchers were heavy.
Eventually, Ark spoke again: «You… do know how to mend a tear, right?»
«Of course I do!» Agatha raised a hand and her wristband instantly turned into a small sewing needle. She was very proud of having learned to shape her sklerygron that way, and Ark’s stricken expression was precisely the result she had hoped for.
«Congratulations. It doesn’t look easy, to make something so small and precise.»
«Yup.» she told him with a bit of gloating. «You need to compress the material and…»
«Did you ever use it though?»
The needle turned back into a wristband in a snap, and Agatha had to admit: «N-No. B-But I’ve often seen my parents sewing, and I was taught how it works in school, so it shouldn’t be too hard.»
«Huh. Well, if you need some help you can always ask Fyra. I think she’s rather good at this kind-»
«Fyra? Are you crazy? Do you want her to immediately go tell Kal?»
«Careful with the water. Why should she immediately go tell him?»
«Because that’s what she always does! She’d let it slip while she teases him!»
«I don’t think she would.»
«I know her better than you do!»
«Fine, fine, just be careful with the pitcher.»
She felt sorry for losing her temper like that. But Ark just couldn’t understand.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Once they reached the camp, Ark headed to his tent and Agatha feared having offended him in some way. But he pointed at a pair of jars a short distance away and said: «Behind there should be quiet enough. Let’s put the pitchers down and then meet there in… one glassturn. I’ll teach you what I know.»
The young man didn’t see her grateful smile, but that was fine.
«Ah, yes, one last thing before we begin.» he asked her, without turning. «You spoke with Fyra. Was she finally able to enter the city?»
«Yes. She said it’s boring and not worth it at all.»
«Typical.»
«Drink cup, noble Ghelena. It is wine from good year.»
Helena was once more in the palace of Istak. For the fourth time.
It appeared Zamoshan had decided to bribe her with his food. Every day he invited her for lunch in his palace, offering her the most fine dishes and the best wine he had.
The dining room was long and narrow, with a high ceiling. On one side, a line of narrow windows showed small gleams of blue sky. In front of Helena, beyond the table and the lord of the city, stood a colossal statue, completely white: a human figure which head touched the ceiling, its arms spread out with the palms facing downward. That statue, taken together with the general structure of the room, made her think that originally was not a place destined to meals. She would have been very curious to investigate, it would have undoubtedly been more pleasant than drinking the wine she had been offered.
Alas, from Helena’s point of view even that “good year” tasted horrible. But for politeness’ sake she took the glass cup and had a drink, without letting her smile falter even for an instant.
«Harvest was poor this year. Luckily we have enough in store.» said the lord.
Helena had found out that, unlike her father, Zamoshan couldn’t help but talk constantly while he sat at the table. He had told her of the deplorable situation in the lordship («Bandits rule countryside, and I have not enough money to hire mercenaries I need!»), of their role inside the federation («If Enver is mind and Hinzan is arm, we are… yes, we are mouth!»), of his own frustrations with the other two lordships («Zanvervek, yes. Equal, they say. And yet ‘vek’ always last!»).
He was often hard to follow, because of the language barrier, bu Helena had nevertheless managed to learn interesting and useful information.
Her father had taught her that the Federation was divided in three “lordships”: Hinzan, in the north, whose capital was Tobor; Shavek, in the south, whose capital was Istak; and Enver, in the east, whose capital was Ossonen. However she knew not much else besides their names and relative positions. She knew nothing of the inner workings of that nation.
Thanks to all these lunches with the lord of Shavek, Helena had learned that the three lordships were bound in a form of mutual economical, technological and military dependency:
Shavek, the most fertile land of the three, functioned as the federation’s breadbasket, granting the other two lordships a level of sustenance that they would never attain on their own.
Enver was home to the Federation’s greatest minds, and functioned as the hub of technological innovation: all the weapons and vehicles she had seen in Shavek had been built there. Among other things, the Enver scholars had invented a mikra with a “rotating barrel”, that allowed to shoot multiple bullets before needing to be reloaded, a fearsome weapon that was superior to the ones in the Principate.
Hinzan, finally, was a cold and inhospitable land, that had made its men fearless and tough as stone. What it offered the other two lordships were those very men: the best warriors in the Federation all hailed from Hinzan, mercenaries hired by the lords or whoever could afford their services. This in particular left an impression on Helena, who was used to the permanent standing army of the Principate.
After listening to him for so long, Helena was convinced that Zamoshan wasn’t simply a man in love with the sound of his own voice. There was a genuine earnestness in his words, as if he were happy to finally have someone to talk with. He must have been a very lonely individual, and she almost felt sympathy for him.
Almost. For despite all the various topics he spoke of, the lord had never brought the conversation back to the matter of the “new political situation” in the Principate he had mentioned during their first meeting.
«About the harvest, noble Zamoshan.» she said to him, daring to speak and using all of her tactfulness. «I could not help noticing that there is far more than fields and farms beyond your walls. I would say that almost half of the population lives outside of them. And they do not appear to be treated with the same regard as those who live inside.»
The lord gave her a puzzled look. «Of course they’re not. They are, uh… selyann.»
Now it was Helena’s turn to be puzzled.
«Forgive me.» Zamoshan continued. «I don’t know term in your ladyship’s language. Maybe it’s better to recount history of Shavek and Istak. City was founded at same time as lordship, after great battles, many many… uh, centuries ago. Those who fought those battles are dvar. All others are selyann. Child of dvar is dvar, child of selyann is selyann. To live inside walls is right of dvar, not of selyann. Selyann work land and serve dvar. Dvar protect and grant fruits of land to selyann when selyann deserve.»
Helena chose to not voice her doubts about the “centuries ago”. The unpleasant point of what he had said was another.
«So the “selyann” cultivate the land outside the walls, the “dvar” take all that has been harvested and later give a part of it back to the farmers?»
«A little more complicated than that but yes, you understood system. It must work the same in your ladyship’s country, I imagine.»
Helena took a deep breath. She had heard what she needed to hear, but she had no intention of letting the conversation end there.
«No. We do not have this system. We do not even have a word for such things in our language. We believe in the equality of all human beings, regardless of their blood.»
«Oh.» the lord answered, in a surprised tone. «I admit I know your ladyship’s country less than I would like, but now I need to understand: if you believe in equality… why is it that only child of prince becomes prince?»
She was taken aback by the question. She was unable to give an answer, apart from a vague, defensive: «That… That is a different matter.»
«Is it really?» Zamoshan put his elbows on the table, joined his hands under his chin and smiled at her. Helena was certain she saw for a moment a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes.
She conceded: if there had been a duel of words, the victory had gone to him.
But it did not matter. With what Helena knew now, it was more than obvious what her next step had to be.
«I cannot constantly depend on you as an interpreter, Ergon. Teach me their language.»
That was her first request the moment she was back in her tent.
«Teach you their language, my Exarch? I’ll be glad to, but it will require time, and…»
«For the moment, all I need are the basics. I need to establish ties with this people, and to do that I have to speak with them in person.»
«Please, my Exarch, let me finish.» Even in the half-light of the tent, Helena could see that the man who by now had become her trusted advisor was uncomfortable. «I shall teack you what I know, for what it is worth, but I have to confess you… I do not know their language.»
She raised an eyebrow, thinking she had not heard correctly.
«The language I know is the tongue of the Federation.» Ergon continued. «It is the language that is common to all three lordships, the one every educated resident knows and uses to communicate over their internal borders. I don’t know if the people you want to establish ties with… are actually educated.»
Helena sat down on her cushion, rubbing her temple. That was something she had not expected.
What to do now? She had the feeling that if she asked Zamoshan he’d immediately introduce her to an appropriate teacher, but of course turning to him was out of the question, it would run contrary to her main purpose of not to depend on him.
Ergon’s voice pulled her out of her reflections: «Did I… did I disappoint you, my Exarch?»
Seeing that worried face, Helena promptly responded: «No, no. You have been of great help until now, and you will be again in the future.»
Reassured, Ergon smiled, then he told her: «Perhaps… Perhaps there is someone who can help you.»
After Helena gave him once again her undivided attention, he continued: «A few days ago, I saw a person, a citizen, speaking with a shopkeeper inside the city, and she wasn’t using the common language. I have no idea where or how she could have learned it, but…»
«Find her and bring her here, immediately.»
«Yes, my Exarch.»
She found the young man sitting on the grass away from the other citizens, at the edge of the camp.
He was speaking to a boy in gray rags, or rather mimicking actions with his hands and occasionally accompanying them with words she did not understand. The boy sometimes shook his head and said something, prompting the young man to repeat the gesture and seemingly try to imitate the sound he had heard, and sometimes nodded, making the man pass to a different gesture.
«I had heard correctly, then.» Helena said to him. She could have sent Ergon, like for the girl, but after hearing that name she had decided to approach him personally.
The man turned and looked at her, his eyes asking her: “Who are you and what do you want from me?” After a few moments he appeared to have recognized her, but his surprise and wariness remained, or rather they grew.
His black hair was a little longer than the last time she had seen him, but his straight nose, his mouth that seemed not used to smiling and most of all his dark and cold eyes had not changed at all.
He quickly took out a small slice of bread and handed it to the boy with a few more words. The boy smiled, uttered a short answer then bowed and left. He and Helena were left alone.
«It really was you, Artor Deutarid.» she said.
«That is my name.» was his reply, as he stood up. Now that she was close to him, she realized he was tall, taller than her, and that though he was not exactly “muscular” he had rather broad shoulders. It was clear from his posture that he would have gladly excused himself from this conversation, but Helena could not allow him.
«You are the son of the crystallist Deutar Artorid.» she said. Before that day she had never made the connection between the two name, despite it being obvious.
She had tried to put him at ease, but her comment seemed to have the opposite effect.
«Yes. Unfortunately my father never had any imagination in giving names, so here I am.» From his tone, Helena felt she had somehow offended him.
«What can I help you with, my Exarch?» The sense behind those words was “Enough pleasantries, get to the point.” And she obliged.
«Agatha Eleisina has told me that you have taught her the language of our hosts.»
His one reaction was a sigh. Helena patiently waited a few moments to see if he intended to add anything to it, then she resumed: «You shall teach it to me as well.»
«No.»
A reply so quick it seemed that young man had not even considered the option. Helena had expected some resistance, a little hesitancy perhaps, but not such a direct refusal.
«What does “no” mean?»
«“No” means “no”, it seems rather clear to me.»
She tried to read his expression, to figure out the reasoning behind his refusal, to understand what he was thinking, to search for anything she could use to her advantage… but she found nothing. It was the first time it happened. And it scared her.
She was reminded of the words he had spoken to her the first time she had met him, at Elis harbor.
«You may not be a soldier, but you are still a citizen of Elis. I am your Exarch.»
«Yes, and that makes me your responsibility. Not a tool for you to order around.»
That answer stung more than she was willing to admit, but she felt she was gaining a foothold.
«Then, what if I told you that teaching me their language would enable me to better ensure your and the other citizens’ safety?»
He stroked his chin, taking a moment to think. Then he said: «A certain someone I know would ask you for more details.»
Helena was ready to answer him. She would tell him only the bare minimum, of course, information that she would need to disclose to him anyway.
But before she could say anything, he continued: «However I am not that someone, and my answer is still no.»
Now Helena’s patience was wearing thin.
«Are you making fun of me, Artor Deutarid?»
«You’re the only one who’s treating any of this as fun, my Exarch.» He had said her title in such an unflattering tone it has sounded like an insult. «Why don’t you stop trying to find reasons I’d have to help you?»
Helena was speechless. It did not happen often. That young man had immediately figured out her plan of attack and had described it in a succinct manner. She realized this would be a more difficult challenge than she expected.
«What do you suggest I do, then?» she said, finally. She hated to present an opening like that and yield the conversation’s lead to him, but she saw no other option. She told herself by thinking it was only a temporary measure, a mere feint in this duel of intellects.
«For one, you could try making me want to help you.»
Is that all? Helena was almost disappointed.
«Whatever you wish for in return, I am sure we can reach an agreement.»
His response was another frustrated sigh.
«Once you’re unable to force somebody to do what you want, your first instinct is to bribe them? I’m almost disappointed.»
Something inside Helena burst open.
«Tell me precisely what is it you want, then! How can I convince you to help me? Why won’t you do it!?»
Only after she was finished she realized she had raised her voice. Fortunately the closest person was rather far and she had not exactly screamed, so it appeared nobody had heard her. She had one less worry, but the fact remained that this man had managed to make her lose her temper. She felt ashamed of herself.
«Finally, that was the question you should have asked from the start.» Helena was still struggling to read his emotions, but she had the impression Artor Deutarid now had a satisfied expression on his face.
The question I should have asked from the start?
«Ever since we started talking you spoke as if the reasons for me saying “no” didn’t matter… or as if you were afraid of asking them.»
He was right. To explicitly ask for such a thing was tantamount to a surrender, so she always tried to act without needing to ask for it, trusting her intuition.
And yet, perhaps… perhaps the only one to treat this conversation as a battle had been her.
…Yes, better to see it like this than to admit she had lost a verbal confrontation.
«Fine. Why do you refuse? You have accepted to teach Agatha Eleisina, so why do you refuse to teach me?»
He took a deep breath before answering.
«Firstly, as Agatha should have told you, I have very little to teach. My knowledge is limited at best.»
«She did tell me.» Helena had expected him to say something similar, he really was like that girl had told her. «However, though limited, your knowledge is sufficient for what I need at the moment. Being able to speak a few sentences will be enough.»
«Secondly,» he continued, ignoring her, «I may be wrong about this but if I remember correctly, Agatha, who is a person I’ve known for many years… at the very least asked me kindly.»
There could be no doubt. Now he was making fun of her.
«Could you teach me as well what little you know of their language, please?»
«On one condition.» Again, it appeared he had not even needed the time to think about it.
So in the end there is a price.
«What condition?»
«What guides you? What is the purpose of your actions? What goal are you aiming for? Try to answer this question.»
For the second time during that conversation, Helena thought Is that all?
«To protect the citizens and build a better Principate.»
It had been far easier than she feared. It was the answer she had trained herself to give, every time some made a similar question to her or to her father.
However, Artor Deutarid sighed.
«There, my condition is this, my Exarch.» he said, suddenly looking straight into her eyes. Helena realized they were not dark, but of a brown so close to black it did not stand out unless light hit them. And once again, just like when they had first met, in those eyes she saw an emotion hard to define and yet intense, that unsettled her.
«If you don’t want to tell me the truth I won’t pretend it, feel free to refuse to answer me. But if you want me to obey you then do not lie to me. You probably don’t realize it, but looking at you it’s easy to see when you’re telling a lie. I realized it when you spoke to the citizens before leaving the forest. Now, just like that day, you don’t believe a single word you just said.»
Helena needed all her self-control to not flinch.
«I’ll ask you once again, and this will be the last time. What guides you? What is the purpose of your actions? What goal are you aiming for?»
Under that gaze of his, Helena felt like she was a little girl again, in front of her angered father and aware she would not be able to lie her way out of a scolding.
«I-I refuse to answer.»
The young man looked away. «As you wish. I’ll accept that.»
Helena found herself breathing a sigh of relief.
«We can begin right now, If you want.» Artor Deutarid had sat back down, and gestured her to sit beside him.
«So.» he said, as if the last glassturn or so had never happened. «What are these sentences you want to be able to speak?»
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