The Chronicles: Notomol

I'd never seen so many people in one place in my entire life. I know that I've remarked on it before, but now I knew how Yevna felt on Prospal Hill, because I'd also never imagined just how much work it took to feed so many mouths.

I was pressed into service as a hunter, simply because I had a bow. Everyone hunted, or foraged, because more and more people kept coming to join us every day. Most of them were older, or women with children - or even children on their own. Yadha Snakehand worked tirelessly to find them places to camp, or new locations to forage in.

There were fighters, too. They came in pairs, or in groups of three. Six young men from Mahuc arrived, led by a grizzled warrior. They'd followed us all the way here after hearing about the attack on the Ban's steading.

That was encouraging, but they also had to be fed. I couldn't be sent out on my own, so I was attached to Kolasovets and Inita.

- "If we all shoot at the same target, we have a better a chance of hitting it." he said, charitably.

- "I think I'll be most useful helping you carry game back to camp." I said.

The fourth member of our little party was Berilde. She'd taken Sarine's death quite hard. It was understandable: they'd been like twins, two clever girls racing about, carrying out errands for us. I found a new task for Berilde, as my bodyguard.

- "I don't think I know how." she said.

- "Can you watch my back, Berilde?"

- "I can do that."

I can't say that I enjoyed hunting. I just wasn't very good at it. But I suppose it was better than guarding the prisoners - something that Giedra and Liesma had been subjected to every few days.

- "I keep telling Senderra that I can use a bow." complained Giedra. "So - are they?"

- "Who? What?"

- "Inita and the little man. Are they humping?"

- "I don't know. Why would you care?"

- "I like guessing. You're useless, Guenna. Berilde - what do you say? Are they?"

- "I don't know, Giedra." said my new bodyguard. "They smile at each other a lot. And she goes out of her way to compliment him. But I haven't seen them touching, or anything like that."

- "At least

someone

is observant." said Giedra. "Honestly, Guenna - do you always have your head in the clouds?"

That night, Adrastas the guslar came to see me. Obran was with him.

- "Could we speak with you, Guenna?" he asked.

- "Of course, Master Adrastas. What can I do for you?"

- "Notomol asked us to show you this." The old guslar passed me two pieces of parchment, inside a curious leather pouch.

- "I can't read." I said.

- "I know. Even if you could, you couldn't read these. They are written in Izumyrian. But Notomol wanted you to know what they contain."

I didn't know what that meant, so I waited for Adrastas to continue.

"They are letters, from a man named Meldoi. He is the son of Beghel, the Northern Duke."

- "The leader of the invasion."

- "Exactly. Beghel sent his son, with an army of mercenaries, to defeat the rebels in Stonje. Notomol, in particular. Meldoi failed. His men were defeated in several fights. They also became ill, with a type of plague. It has affected some of our people, but it seems to strike especially inside the steadings. It may be connected to horses. We don't know for certain. But the letters are important. They are both addressed to Duke Beghel. In the first, Meldoi announces success. He claims to have conclusively defeated the rebels. In fact, he declares the rebellion in Stonje at an end."

- "But that's ..."

- "Nonsense, of course. The second letter tells his father the truth. He has lost hundreds of men to disease, combat, and starvation. The mercenaries in two steadings are barely hanging on. They no longer obey his orders, and are only concerned with finding food. There is little to find, though."

Now

I understood what this meant. "So we have nothing to fear from the Izumyrians in Stonje - but also nothing to gain by attacking them. Thank you, Master Adrastas, for sharing this with me."

- "I have only done as I was asked." he said. "And I wish that I had known about your part in planning the battle before now. In my opinion, there should have been more second names awarded."

That was high praise, and I'll admit that I enjoyed it a little too much. But now I had quite a bit more to think about.

***

What to do with the prisoners? That was the main topic of conversation in our camps, especially as our numbers rose and everyone became preoccupied with the food supply.

- "Kill them." said Giedra.

- "What?"

- "I'm not the only one saying it. Dubek, Cinna, Cloudy-Eye ..."

- "Cloudy-Eye?" I said. I didn't care for him at all. In the last two weeks he had propositioned Giedra (again), Rion, Berilde, and even me. Senderra grit her teeth every time he came anywhere near us. But I hadn't failed to notice that he and his friends were more often than not to be found hovering close to the Duchess and Old Whitehair.

That

was not a good sign.

As for the prisoners, I had mixed feelings. I grew up where I did, and when I did. No one can accuse me of being soft-hearted. I saw my mother and brother murdered. But I am also my father's daughter. A person's word means something. Those men were enemies, but they had only surrendered because the Duchess (and Prosquetel) had promised them their lives.

Feeding and guarding them were more than inconveniences - they were burdens. But I didn't see any alternative.

The guslars performed for us again. I don't think that any of them had ever had an audience so big before. Even Adrastas admitted that he had never played before so many people. Thuruar went first, again, and presented his new composition, 'The Duchess' Horse Raid'.

- "I'm going to kill him." said Giedra.

It wasn't a

bad

song. There were twelve verses about Temara, and her inspirational leadership, six about Lemek, and four more about Prosquetel. Liesma featured in one line, with her second name already won. Giedra was mentioned exactly once. She had virtually won the fight for us, and she got one line. But she was incensed because there was not one single mention of me in the entire piece.

"It wasn't her raid!" snapped Giedra. "It was yours!"

- "Alright - I planned it. But you risked your life, Giedra, to make it work."

- "Ooh, wait until I catch him alone. I'll kick his fruit into his throat!"

We were distracted by Senderra and her friends. Kolasovets, in particular, was completely confused.

- "I thought that was

your

raid." he said.

- "It was." said Giedra. "The Duchess had nothing to do with it."

Kolasovets looked upset. "Well, that's not right."

***

Our next council, or meeting of the captains, started poorly. Notomol wanted to discuss splitting the prisoners into smaller groups, and moving them to more remote locations.

- "Is that wise?" said Prosquetel. "Should we not have them closer to hand, in case the opportunity for an exchange presents itself?"

It was an odd question - and a stupid question. Notomol was surprised by it - and didn't quite know how to answer.

Iduallon leapt to his feet. "Why are we talking about the prisoners, when we should be planning our advance on Hvad town?"

I was stunned. I think that most of the captains were taken aback. Had this not been discussed (and dismissed) the last time we met? Could he really be that stupid? Or was Prosquetel behind this?

Notomol didn't have a ready answer. Nor did I. But Dubek did.

- "Sit down, lad." he said. "The adults are talking."

It was if a stream had suddenly reversed course. Imagine watching the current flowing in one direction, and then turning to run in the opposite direction. It was Iduallon's turn to be stunned - and Prosquetel had no words. I saw smirks on several faces - Aldur, and Orsho, among others.

- "How dare you!" Iduallon retorted.

Dubek looked back at him through slitted eyes.

- "You aren't a Captain. You don't lead men, and you didn't even fight in the battle at the gap. You're a glorified bodyguard. We allow you to be present at this council, but you really have no right to speak. So I'd take it as a kindness if you'd keep your mouth shut. Is that clear enough for you?"

I could hardly breathe. Those were fighting words. In the Uplands, that would have been the start of a feud that might last for generations. To salvage any kind of reputation, Iduallon had no choice: he had to challenge Dubek.

He did not.

- "There's no need for that." said Prosquetel, unctuously. "Iduallon is young, and enthusiastic. His loyalty to the Duchess is beyond question. If he is ... over-eager at times, we all realize that he is simply hopeful that we can restore the Duchess and her son to their rightful positions."

Smooth, I thought - but unconvincing.

The rest of the meeting was a waste. I caught up with Notomol afterwards.

- "They're making your life miserable, aren't they?"

- "As they did yours?" he said.

- "I used to pray for a flash flood - a very selective flash flood. Or a sinkhole."

He smiled. "I'm doing the best I can."

- "Call on me, if you need help."

- "I will. Thank you, Guenna."

In the meantime, I'd lost track of Giedra. I spotted Liesma, though - she was at least half a head taller than everyone in the group she was standing with. Berilde and I approached them. I caught sight of Rion and Eliv, which meant that Giedra had to be there as well.

There were at least two dozen people there, most of them busy congratulating Liesma on her new name. There was a second group right next to ours, with Dubek at its centre. He too was being celebrated for his new name.

After a time, the well-wishers began to take their leave, until there was only Dubek, with a small circle of friends, and Liesma and the rest of us.

- "Great name, Liesma." said Dubek. "Suits you."

- "I like yours. It fits."

- "Would you and your friends like a drink?" he asked.

- "You have drink?" said Giedra, slightly incredulous.

- "We have some left. Seems only right to celebrate a little."

That was how we found ourselves sitting around a fire with Dubek and half a dozen of his friends, sipping some truly awful brandy which had probably been aged for only a few hours. They were a rough-looking crew. It surprised me to learn that they were all from Hvad town. I'd thought that the townsfolk were more educated, more 'civilized'. I suppose I expected them to look ... well, softer.

- "I loved the way you put Iduallon down." said Giedra.

- "It was long overdue." said Dubek. "And there's more where that came from, if he wants to come looking for it."

Rion started to giggle. "Giedra broke his nose. And his wrist." she said.

Dubek raised his eyebrows. "Now that's a story I'd like to hear."

Giedra was only too happy to oblige. I'd heard it too many times already, so I took the opportunity to discretely observe Dubek at close quarters. He was remarkably ugly, without being actually repulsive. His neck was so thick that his massive head seemed to be sitting directly on his shoulders. His chest was like a barrel, and his arms were powerful. The Izumyrians who met him in battle must have been thoroughly intimidated.

Giedra finished her little tale, and Dubek laughed. "Thanks for the warning. Sounds like I'd best keep my hands to myself."

- How long have you been with Notomol?" asked Giedra. She'd obviously forgotten what Kolasovets had told us - or perhaps she simply wanted to hear it directly from the source.

- "We were Guardsmen, keeping watch on the river." said Dubek. "I'll admit that I didn't think much of the man, at first. There was something about him - the way he carried himself, the way he spoke - that got under my skin. Then we had to fight together. That changed my mind a bit. He's hellish good with a bow, but he's not afraid to mix it up, either. Thinks fast when he has to, but thinks slower when he can, if you know what I mean."

- "It sounds as if

you've

done some thinking on the subject."

- "We all have. There have been challenges for the leadership. But he's the best we have - it's not even close. I sure as shit couldn't do it. Wouldn't want to, either."

***

Iduallon became the topic of conversation once more only a week or so later. Seva's pregnancy was now far advanced, and she had to give up her hunting excursions. Iduallon wanted to find an isolated hamlet where he could leave her. They chose to quarrel loudly - in public.

- "I want you to be safe." he said.

- "You want to get rid of me!" she said.

She knew very well that the moment she was gone, he would be back to attempting to seduce any woman who would stand still long enough. He insisted that she deserved a rest, and that she could catch up to us later.

"What about the baby?" she wanted to know.

- "It will be safer in a remote place. The people there can look after it."

- "'The people there'?"

- "The farmers. The peasants. You know what I mean. Don't make this difficult, Seva."

Because of her heavy, rounded belly, Seva wasn't able to kick very high. Her foot didn't reach his fruits; she struck him on the knee instead. But then she landed a very solid punch to his face.

***

It was always a pleasure to talk to Nelime. She never acted like a Hospodar's daughter, or a 'fine' lady; she was just one of us. A leader, yes - but no better than the rest of us. I had many questions, and she was usually quite happy to answer them.

Except for this one time. I had asked her about Orsho's second name. He had turned down a new one, even though he no longer used the old one.

- "Do you know what his name was?" I asked her.

- "I do. But that's not something for me to tell. You should ask Orsho."

- "He won't tell me, will he?"

- "Probably not, no."

It didn't hurt to ask, though - and I had a plan. I told Orsho about my father - how he'd been Veran Hammerfist, until he became Veran One-Eye. Then I told him about Liesma's original nickname.

- "No wonder she was so pleased." he said.

- "You're different, though." I said. "You don't use your second name, but you wouldn't trade it in for a new one."

He sighed. "It's not a secret, Guenna. I just don't shout it to everyone. I was given the name 'Orsho the Loyal'. I had earned it. But when my Lord sided with the Izumyrians, I knew that I couldn't follow him anymore. So I don't deserve that name anymore. Taking yet another name won't change that fact."

I'll admit that I was struck by his revelation. But I saw the flaw in his logic right away.

- "You've been loyal to Nelime. We all see that. You're just not 'blindly loyal'. That's a good thing, I think. You wouldn't want to be the same as Iduallon, would you?"

I got a rare smile from Orsho.

The next time I spoke to Nelime, she wanted to know what I'd done.

- "He's been

smiling

. Yesterday, I caught him whistling. Orsho -

whistling

. What on earth did you say to him?"

I told her. "Oh," she said, "that was very wise of you. Why didn't I think of that?"

- "I've known Iduallon longer." I said.

Senderra sat up with us one night, telling us stories about how Notomol and Kolasovets had ended up as Guardsmen.

- "Father was dead. Notomol was supporting Mother and me. The Hospodar expected to be able to seize our land if Notomol was gone for an entire year."

- "That's ... that's just wrong!"

- "I know. But the Hospodar chose him."

- "Couldn't he have refused?"

- "And become an outlaw? Then we would have lost our land immediately."

No matter how much time I spent with Lowlanders, I still didn't understand them.

- "Why not kill the Hospodar, then?"

Both Nelime and Senderra simply stared at me. It was Nelime who recovered first.

- "If a Hospodar dies, Guenna, then a new Hospodar takes his place. And the law is still on his side."

- "But you're the Hospodar now, aren't you? That's an improvement, isn't it?"

- "It's ... not quite that simple."

Senderra changed the subject back to her friends. She related the story about how Kolasovets had been sent to the Guardsmen at the age of 15, and told to lie about his age. Then I heard about Motekin, a clerk from the town who'd been sent to the Guards to punish him for attracting the attention of an influential man's daughter.

- "Who was this Motekin?" I asked. "Why do you still speak about him?"

Senderra looked to Nelime. "Will you explain?'

- "Better than that. I'll read some of it to her."

Two nights later, Nelime sat down beside me. She carried a book in her hands. Giedra had spent another evening drinking with Dubek and his friends, but this night she was with me. So were Rion and Eliv, Liesma, Berilde, and Paksyalta. Senderra and Evane were also there, ready to listen to it a second time.

Nelime began to read.

I cannot quite explain what it is that compels me to write about Notomol. There is something about this man that draws me to him, like metal shavings to a lodestone. I hang on his every word, few as they are. Perhaps their scarcity makes them all the more valuable. His bearing, his every gesture - everything about him is a source of endless fascination to me.

Notomol is not a person that one comes to know either easily or intimately. He makes a tremendous impression upon others, yet does not seem to exert himself at all to do so. In fact, he seems entirely unaware of this phenomenon. His actions and his words, so far as I can tell, are guided by impulses I cannot identify, or else by some code of behaviour which I do not recognize.

The language was oddly formal, somewhat like a guslar's. It was clearly someone else's voice, though - Nelime read the words, but someone completely different was speaking. I was not the only one taken aback; we Uplanders have little or no experience with writing.

It was decidedly odd to be listening to the voice of a dead man. To make matters worse, I wasn't sure that I would have liked this fellow, had I met him when he was alive. Giedra's head snapped up when she heard Dubek being insulted. Paksyalta made a face when Nelime read a passage that dismissed Kolasovets.

It wasn't so bad when this Motekin related what had happened. His description of Dusova was quite striking. We heard about ambushes of the Izumyrians, and of the people who joined them to fight against the invaders. In the beginning, Motekin was filled with admiration for Notomol; as the journals went on, though, he began to criticize others more frequently, and to second-guess the leader's decisions.

- "This fellow needed a solid kick in the backside." growled Giedra.

- "He's dead." said Liesma.

- "I know that. I meant

before

he died."

It took quite a while for Nelime to read all of the different sections. Entries, she called them. Then she closed the book.

- "Motekin died in that fight." she said. "He and Dubek had to leap from a great height to escape the Izumyrians. Dubek was badly injured, but he survived."

- "Thank you, Nelime - for ... reading that to us."

- "You're very welcome."

The next day, while I hunted with Berilde, Kolasovets and Inita, I was more than a little distracted. I found myself thinking about what Motekin had written - and what he hadn't. We stayed out that night, and returned the following day. By that time, I had questions for Senderra.

- "Why did Motekin say so little about you and Evane?"

- "I've wondered the same thing. It may be that he didn't like women very much. But you must have noticed that he could be petty and jealous?"

- "I got the impression that he didn't want anyone between him and your brother."

- "Yes, I think that's a large part of it."

- "I've also been wondering ... why did Nelime read that for us?"

- "For you, you mean?"

Senderra had noticed it, too. While Nelime was reading, she sometimes looked up at us, and she did the same whenever she paused, especially between entries. Whenever she did, it seemed to me that she looked at me far more than at anyone else.