Saiai Webnovels

The city gates were opened, and out came Silen, followed by a procession of people clad in gray.

Five days had passed since Helena had started taking language lessons from both Ergon and Artor Deutarid. She felt ready enough. During one of the lunches with Zamoshan she had expressed appreciation for the banquet the lord had organized in their honor, and he had taken the bait, offering a repeat of the event.

So, once again they brought out the table, the three great trays and the wooden casks.

And once again a haggard and sad-looking crowd, dressed in clothes of the same color of the people who were serving the citizens, gathered around the camp, kept away from the table by armed men.

It was time.

She approached the cordon of guards, with unfaltering steps. Silen, who was repeating the speech he had made one week before stopped, following her with his gaze.

Helena spoke to two of the guardsmen and told them: «Step aside.» in their own tongue.

The two men showed surprise, but gave no sign of moving, as if they were convinced they had not heard correctly. She repeated her order, and this time they obeyed.

After a quick look at the people in front of her now, Helena chose a sickly-looking woman, with sunken cheeks and unruly hair but big blue eyes.

She held out her hand toward the woman and said: «Come.»

The woman fearfully hesitated, but in the end she took her hand.

Under the speechless gazes of her fellow citizens, Helena led the woman to the table, pointed at the trays and said: «Choose and take.»

In disbelief, the woman took four bogach loaves, bowing multiple times and repeating many more the word for “thank you”, that Helena was glad to understand.

As the woman left, before Silen or anyone else could react, Helena spoke to all the people in front of her, citizens of Elis and not, using the language of Istak while Ergon, as per previous instructions, repeated in the tongue of the Principate.

«People of Istak! Our graceful hosts! You have welcomed us among you with generosity, asking nothing in return! Yes, I speak of you, you who are called selyann, you who live outside the walls. For it is on your ground we set up our tents, and it is with your flour that we are cooking our food! Even this bread, offered to us by lord Zamoshan, was made with the grain that you have sown and reaped, and you yourselves are serving it to us, forbidden from eating it!»

As she was uttering that last sentence, she looked at the men and women in gray behind her, on the other side of the table. The week before she had noticed that they had neither eaten nor drunk anything of what they had served, but she had understood why only afterward.

Silen tried to intervene, but she ignored him.

«We are grateful to you from the bottom of our hearts. And so we gladly give this banquet up to you! Accept it, as a sign of respect and friendship! Eat, drink and be merry!»

«Your ladyship can’t do that!» Silen protested, while the crowd began murmuring, in realization of what Helena had just said. «The noble Zamoshan has prepared all of this for you!»

«I know.» Helena answered him. «And we are grateful to him. But not that it has been given to us, we have the right to do with it whatever we please.»

«Whatever you people of Elis please… or whatever your ladyship pleases, noble Helena?» he replied, looking at the citizens.

Some of them were grumbling, clearly annoyed.

But once the selyann conquered their fears and approached the table, most people followed Helena’s example and enthusiastically welcomed them. Those who a week earlier had been served, now were doing the serving: the roles had switched. They didn’t understand each other’s words, but the smiles and the gestures were enough.

Until that moment, Helena had seen her people as naive, easy to manipulate, useful. What she was seeing disproved none of those things, but she was reminded of what her father had once told her: “They are simple, and kind. That is why I love them.” And finally, though she did not share his feeling, she understood what he had meant.

She knew that after this exploit there would not be a third banquet, and that Zamoshan’s attitude toward her would grow much colder. But sincere coldness was always preferable to treacherous politeness. Furthermore, this incident would prove very useful to distract him from the rest of her operation.

The first step of Helena’s plan, the simplest one, had been made.

Now came the difficult ones.

---

«My, Exarch, forgive me, I don’t understand a word he’s saying.»

Events moved faster than Helena expected.

The following morning a boy came to the camp. He was thin and had freckles on his face, and by gestures he made clear he was looking for her. Ergon unfortunately was of no help understanding him, but Helena had enough knowledge of his language to understand the words «Come with me.»and that someone wished to speak with her.

«I believe he wishes to take me to the leaders of their community.»

«Isn’t the lord Zamoshan their leader?» asked captain Astor.

«Zamoshan’s authority is distant, beyond the walls. Considering the way he and the other dvar treat them, they must have someone else they defer to, such as elders or some form of village chief.»

She thanked this stroke of luck: it was her intention since the beginning to look for and try to negotiate with whatever representatives the selyann had, and now she was being spared the need to arduously look for them. There was a bizarre sense of urgency in the boy’s voice, but for the moment she chose to not pay mind to it.

She ordered Astor to call Artor Deutarid: she would need him as an interpreter. Once the young man arrived, she and the other three set off after the boy.

He led them through a complex web of streets and alleys, often narrow and dirty. In front of the doors to the low and rough-looking houses sat lean figures in gray, with a languid air about them. Once in a while the people they met pointed at Helena or said something in her direction, in a respectful tone.

«Yesterday you’ve earned their gratitude, my Exarch.» Astor whispered to her.

She did not answer.

They stopped in front of a modest but cozy-looking house, facing a small square with a well.

Their guide gestured them to enter, but did not accompany them.

The inside was one single room, dominated by a large table. On one end of it sat an elderly man, short, thin and with shoulders so stooped he almost looked like a hunchback. Helena noticed a walking stick as well, resting on the table’s edge, close to the man.

«Welcome.» he said, in the common tongue of the Federation. «Have a seat.»

Helena stood by the door and looked at her boots. A layer of grayish mud had formed on their soles. The ground around the city was full of that mud, and it was rather annoying to remove. In the palace, her boots were always thoroughly cleaned before she was allowed to enter, and the young woman wished to show her current host the same respect.

However the old man must have noticed her downward gaze, for he said: «Don’t worry for the shoes, nobody cares about that here.»

Once they had sat down, he continued, while Ergon translated: «My name is Kuts. And I wish to thank you on behalf of all us inhabitants of Outer Istak. You’ve been very generous yesterday. Our lord Zamoshan had never offered us such a feast.»

Helena answered, again through Ergon because she still had too little confidence in her mastery of the language to use it without a prepared speech: «We merely gave you back a very small part of what was owed you, Kuts. My name is Helena.»

«In any case you still deserve our thanks, Helena.» She noticed the old man pronounced her name with none of Zamoshan’s heavy accent. «Though for one single evening, you have given us a little merriment, some distraction from our problems and most importantly relief from our hunger.»

«About that. No one has forbidden us to grant that relief to you more than once.»

«What do you mean?» The old man’s tone became curious, but not surprised. It was as if he expected the conversation to take this direction.

«Every week, your lord gives us flour with which to cook our meals. That flour is made from your grain.»

«You’re going to keep giving us back what is ours, like you said earlier?» the old man curved his mouth in a clever smile. «And what would you ask for in exchange?»

«Nothing more than your friendship.» Helena answered, as innocently as she could.

«Friendship is an abstract concept. What do you need in practice? Hiding? Protection? Information? Or maybe all three?» Kuts’s smile told her: “Do not take us for fools”.

«We need someone we can count on when in difficulty. Is this not the meaning of the word “friendship”?»

After hearing her answer, Kuts snorted.

«I wish we could be that someone. But we are mere selyann. The dvar don’t trust us enough to allow us to possess weapons, and they refuse to teach us how to fight.»

That reminded her that, though for a different reason, her father had always refused to teach her how to fight as well. “That is not your role”, he had often told her when she was younger. In time, she had stopped asking, becoming used to the idea that others would fight for her. She wondered when exactly she had started to take that for granted, but she heard Kuts continuing to speak.

«We’re defenseless even against the lowliest of criminals.» At that point the old man looked at the door for a moment, then he moved his gaze to captain Astor. «Are there many fighters among you?»

Helena felt she figured out where the old man’s talk was leading.

«Yes. A great number. If you wish, they can become your teachers.»

A smile appeared once more on Kuts’ face.

«That is a very enticing offer, more than giving us some flour if I have to be honest. We can discuss that.»

The discussion however was interrupted by the sudden sound of someone violently knocking on the door, and a voice angrily repeating something. It took some time to Helena to realize it was calling Kuts.

All five stood up, Kuts grabbing his stick, and they approached the door. Once it was open, Helena saw that the person knocking was a man, dressed in a way she was not familiar with. He was wearing what looked like a thick fur jacket, that left his lean arms bare except for the bands on his wrists. His pants were broad and thick like the jacket, and halfway down from the knee they disappeared inside long dark boots. His bald head was encircled by a band around his brow. Two other men accompanied him, dressed in a similar manner.

The three strode in impatiently, focusing their attention on Kuts and giving Helena and the others little more than a passing glance. The bald man spoke to the elder in the language of Shavek, in a threatening tone and slurring the words in a way that made it very difficult for Helena to even partially glean what he was saying.

«Can you understand him?» she asked Artor Deutarid, who had been silent up to that point.

«Not much. I think he’s complaining that something that should be ready… isn’t, but I don’t understand what. “We had a deal”, he’s saying now.»

At that point Kuts replied.

«“Your deal is off.”» Artor translated. «“We have a new deal now.”»

The bald man reacted with an exclamation that was in equal parts surprise and outrage.

«“With who?”»

Kuts did not answer.

He merely slowly turned his gaze to her.

The bald man did the same, emitting something that sounded like a questioning grunt, then he made one step toward her while the other two men moved to his sides.

Astor put himself between her and the bald man, who spoke to her.

« “Who… who are you?”, I think that’s what he means.» Artor whispered to her, apparently not frightened by the situation at all.

Maybe it was all just self-control, like with Helena herself. «Tell him this: “My name is Helena Dorina. What is yours?”»

The bald man suddenly shouted something, loudly stomping his foot.

«He thinks you have ignored him, my Exarch.» Astor told her, before starting to translate, with evident difficulty, her message.

The bald man repeated her name, looking at his two companions, who started laughing.

Then he hissed something, and immediately the three attacked them.

Astor quickly materialized his sword and pushed back the bald man, making him tumble on the floor and hit his head. One heartbeat later he hit the man on his right with the flat of his blade, making him fall on his knees. The one man left had an instant to contract his face in an expression of deep regret, before the butt of Astor’s mikra sunk into his stomach and made him bend over.

From start to finish, the fight had lasted less than the time needed for a leaf to fall from a tree.

«Are you alright, my Exarch? I preferred not to stain our host’s floor.»

«Yes, Astor I am fine.» Helena’s attention though was all on Kuts, who had stepped aside and now was watching the scene in astonishment.

«Explain. Now.» she told him in the tongue of Shavek.

But before the elder could even open his mouth, the bald man rose back up and with an animalistic shriek stretched his arm out toward Helena.

She only had the time to see a metallic glimmer, and instinctively lowered her head, shutting her eyes.

With a dry “thunk”, something stuck into the wall behind her, passing so close to her face that she felt the air move.

That sound was followed by a crack and a shrill cry of pain.

Once she opened her eyes and straightened up, Helena saw that Astor was still holding his mikra out, aiming at the bald man, who was covering one of his cheeks with his hands as blood trickled through the fingers.

Judging from his tone, his pride had been wounded more than his body. The other two men grabbed him and dragged him away almost forcefully, while he hurled in her and Astor’s direction what were almost certainly insults.

« “Cursed woman, we’ll be back.”» It appeared Artor had not moved at all throughout all that chaos, not even when the knife now sticking into the wall had passed no less close to his face than to hers. «“And when we do, this is what will happen to you. First of all I’ll rip your clothes off, and then…”»

«I do not need you to translate that, thank you.»

Helena looked at Ergon, visibly shaken, and then she approached Kuts, still standing aside.

«So? Who was that?» she asked, through Ergon.

«That was Nosh.» the old man answered, without looking at her in the eyes. «He and the other two work for Kratko, a bandit who has settled in the plain.»

«Go on.» she told him, speaking herself.

«Between us and Kratko there is a “deal”. We give him part of our grain and he leaves us alone.»

«Part of your grain? Do you not give it all to the dvar?»

«Do you think we’d be able to survive with the meager scraps those people leave us?» Kuts’s tone became offended. «We never gave them all of it. We have out ways to keep it out of their hands. It doesn’t satisfy our hunger, but it keeps us alive.» The old man hit his stick on the ground. «Or at least it did, until Kratko came. Now what little food we manage to hide must go to him! And we can’t even ask the lord Zamoshan for help! We’re dying, stuck between the hammer and the anvil!»

Finishing his distraught tale, Kuts looked her in the eyes. «Give us your knowledge. Teach us to fight, to repel the bandits as I’ve seen you do now. Help us, and I swear we’ll be in your debt forever.»

Helena had already decided what answer to give him. To have those people in her debt was exactly what she wanted. And even if she refused, Kratko, or at least his right hand man, was hardly going to forget her name. But while she listened to that old man she had realized something.

«You win.» she finally told him. «We cannot give you weapons, but we will train you. However I want to know one thing, and I want you to be sincere with me.» She was reminded of Artor Deutarid’s words almost a week before, but she rapidly suppressed that thought. «All that has happened her today was part of your plan. You invited us here today because you knew that Nosh person would come as well. You wanted this to happen, you wanted for us to become involved and have no other choice but to help you. Am I right?»

Kuts flashed her a clever smile for the third time that day, and he said: «When you’re born a selyann, if you want to survive you learn to do whatever you can.»

---

«I don’t know about you, but I have had enough of this! This is our survival we’re talking about!»

Semna Tritina’s voice was the first thing Elef heard as he returned to his tent, after the end of his patrol. The boy felt tired and would have liked nothing more than to get some rest, but those words forcefully drew his attention.

The whole tent had gathered around Artor’s mother, a scene Elef was used to see. He had no sympathy for that woman, but he could not question her charisma or the intensity of her personality. Ever since she had been assigned to that tent she had put everyone under her spell.

«Calm down, Semna.» one of the men sitting in front of her tried weakly to speak, and Elef recognized him as the guy who slept on the cot next to his. «I think you’re exaggerating things a li-»

«Exaggerating?!» Semna’s scream prevented him from even finishing his sentence. «Where on Earth were you yesterday evening? Did you see what everyone else has seen or were you asleep?»

«Semna’s right.» said a woman who sometimes Elef had seen taking care of the tent’s fire. «The Exarch has foolishly provoked the city’s lord.»

«Stupid little girl!» Semna echoed her. «Who does she tink we depend on for our sustenance? What’s preventing the lord from taking our food away? Or to force us to leave and wander once more? We are safe here! And that girl almost seems to want to put us all back in danger!»

The crowd around her began to murmur. Elef suddenly had a bad feeling.

«And that’s not even the worst part.» said a man he didn’t recognize. «Why did Helena Dorina put all of us at so great a risk? For a bunch of beggars.»

There was fervor in his words, but his voice was cold. Elef’s bad feeling worsened.

«Exactly!» Semna’s voice had become even more shrill. «She is our exarch! Her responsibility is to us! She should think first and foremost to us, to our safety and to our well-being! We should have never followed her!»

The murmur rose in volume.

And the man Elef could not recognize spoke again.

«At this point… why keep following her?»

For an instant, on the tent fell an uncanny silence.

Until that moment, what Elef heard amounted to venting the collective frustration. And had it remained just that he would have had no reason to intervene. It wasn’t the first time it happened and it wouldn’t be the last.

But now it was obvious that man was trying to rile the people up and turn the outburst into a revolt.

He knew what he had to do.

Before the gathered crowd had the time to think about what the unknown man had said, Elef made use of the most commanding tone he could muster and said: «What’s going on here?»

The effect was immediate. Pretty much everyone turned fearfully toward him, having completely forgotten what they had been talking about. And those who still remembered deliberately took an effort to forget. Even Semna Tritina herself was struck dumb. Elef realized he hadn’t felt such a satisfaction in a very long time. His presence as city watchman still had all its power.

But now there was a more pressing matter.

«Who are you? I do not recall your face.» he said, approaching the mysterious man caught in a flagrant attempt at inciting a rebellion, who kept his head down, avoiding looking at him.

Elef saw short black hair, dark eyes, a face devoid of distinguishing marks and with the corner of the eye a ring on his left hand, then the man turned his back and quickly headed to the exit, muttering something like: «I’m sorry, I have urgent business right now.»

«Hold it! Identify yourself!»

The man ignored him and left the tent.

Elef tried to chase him, but once he got outside the mysterious man had already vanished. Scanning all the people he saw around him, there were too many who shared those scant few traits he had managed to memorize.

He drew out a frustrates sigh and went back inside. Later he’d report the incident to his decarch, hoping that the man would listen to him despite Elef being just “the deserter” for almost all of his companions. He realized he would have to ask Mikka for help: that girl was one of the few companions who didn’t look down on him, and with her support he might be able to convince even a man like the decarch. Still, all that could wait. For the moment, he needed to rest.

He laid down on his cot. He closed his eyes.

«Y-You’re not going to denounce me, are you, young man?»

And he was immediately called back to the waking world.

Semna Tritina was looking at him imploringly. It was an unusual sight, but Elef was too tired to dwell on it.

«It was just idle talk, was it not? You never meant to do anything. I will report the incident, but not your name.» he said to her, and then he went back to trying to sleep.

The last words he heard before sinking into slumber were: «Yes, of course. It was… just idle talk.»