Chapter 3|News
Oskar hurried through the crush of the Seventhday market. People filled the green at the town’s center. Wagons laden with produce jutted out above the throng. The sounds of laughter, calls of greeting, and good-natured dickering sang a happy tune in his ear. Seventhday was his favorite day. People from the countryside gathered to exchange goods, news, and gossip, not necessarily in that order.
He dodged a woman carrying a basket of tomatoes, only to careen into a cart loaded with apples.
“Watch yourself, boy.” Lars Harim shot a tobacco-stained grin in his direction before turning back to haggle with a potential customer.
“Sorry, Master Harim.” How long would it be until people thought of him as a man? Obviously longer than one day.
Certain that Master Harim’s attention was diverted, Oskar filched an early summer apple, small and deep red, almost purple, from the cart and hurried away. Reaching a safe distance, he paused to take a bite. Sweet juice ran from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. He located a comfortable fencepost and contentedly munched his prize. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, and he looked around for the source of the delicious aroma.
He dropped the remains of his snack to the ground, scrubbed his face with the back of a sweaty hand, and set off along the hard beaten dirt path that encircled the green. His nose guided him to the front porch of the Dry Birch, Galsbur’s only inn, in front of which a local youth stood holding a basket of bread.
“Natin,” Oskar hailed the young man. “What do you have for me?”
The slender, brown-haired youth greeted Oskar with a gap-toothed smile. “First, I want to know what you have for me. You still owe me for a loaf.”
“May we consider it a manhood gift?” At Natin’s answering smirk, Oskar dug into the pocket inside his cloak. His fingertips found a bit of string, a smooth stone he had found on the riverbank, and finally a single copper. “What will this buy?” he asked, handing it to his friend.
Natin accepted the coin and motioned for Oskar to join him on the front porch. They sat down together on the top step. Natin took a loaf from his basket and broke it in half. Oskar gratefully accepted his half, savoring the rich, yeasty smell. He tore off a warm crust and stuffed it in his mouth. Natin’s mother was quite the baker.
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t accept the coin, but things are hard.” Natin did not meet Oskar’s eye.
The bread was doughy, and Oskar could only answer with a sympathetic “Mmhmm!” Natin’s family farmed a plot owned by the Van Derins. Each year Lord Hiram took most of their crop for rent, leaving Natin’s family to make do the best they could. Natin sold or traded his mother’s bread each Seventhday. Otherwise, when he wasn’t working on their small farm, he was fishing for the fat speckled trout that made the Vulltu their home. Oskar could think of nothing to say, so he took another large bite of bread, and looked out over the town.
Galsbur was centered around an oval-shaped green. The dirt road that encircled the green was ringed on its outer edge by various shops, homes, and buildings. The Dry Birch lay on the west side of the green, directly opposite the main road that led toward civilization. On either side of the main road stood the Van Derin and Sons warehouse and the Van Derin home. Its whitewashed exterior and wooden shingles made it stand out like a pearl in a pigsty among the log and thatch buildings. He regarded the town with a disheartened stare. It was so small, so insignificant.
“Oskar,” Natin whispered. “Look over there. Have you ever seen that man before?”
He immediately located the person of whom Natin spoke. Even with farmers from outlying villages in attendance, a stranger was a rare site on Seventhday, or any other for that matter. The man was tall; fully a head taller than Hierm. His auburn hair was pulled to the left side of his head and was plaited in a thick braid that hung down past his shoulder. His travel-stained cloak was dark brown stitched with intertwining vines of green and gray. His face and clothes looked as worn as his cloak. A sword hilt, its grip worn smooth, with a plain, round pommel was just visible inside the cloak. The stranger strode directly toward them, his wide-set hazel eyes fell upon them with a disinterested gaze.
“Pardon,” the man said in a voice that was like rough stones grinding together. “There a common room in there?”
“There is,” Oskar said. His voice sounded boyish compared to the stranger’s deep baritone.
Nodding, the man took the steps in two strides and seemed to melt through the door.
“Did you see that? He had a sword.” Natin said. “Who wears a sword in Galsbur, save Master Yurg?”
Master Yurg! All thoughts of the stranger were forgotten as Oskar recalled the reason for slipping out of the Van Derin’s warehouse in the first place. He mumbled an apology around another mouthful of bread and ran for the swordmaster’s house.
He reached his destination out of breath. Sparing a few moments to lean against the split rail fence and let the stitch in his side release, he scanned the enclosed yard behind Master Yurg’s home.
Hierm and Master Yurg were working forms. The youngest Van Derin would not be giving up the sword after all. Shanis, however, was nowhere to be seen. A cluster of girls hovered nearby, feigning disinterest while watching every move Hierm made. He was the most popular and eligible young man in the area, thus all the older girls strove to catch his eye.
For a moment Oskar tried to imagine Shanis wearing a dress and giggling at the first glance from a young man. The image made him laugh. Who would marry her? If you could see past her height and muscles, she was pretty enough, with her soft red hair and gray-green eyes, but could anyone handle her temper and stubbornness? Her father was the most physically imposing man Oskar had ever seen, yet he scarcely managed to keep her in check.
“Do you find something funny?” Khalyndryn Serrill eyed him over her tiny, upturned nose. Oskar shook his head. Her golden hair and emerald eyes always put him ill at ease. He fancied her, but so did every other young man in town, and he was no prize catch. No one in Galsbur seemed to share his desire to learn what lay beyond the horizon. He was an outcast in his own way, but it did not matter. He was not going to stay in this town forever. He would visit those places in Lord Hiram’s books and have his own adventures. And then someday he would write them all down in a book of his own.
“Oskar, shouldn’t you be off pilfering books?” Hierm and Master Yurg halted their lesson and came over to where Oskar leaned against the fence.
“Have you seen Shanis?” Oskar asked. “I need to talk to her. And you too.”
“I haven’t seen her since last… um, yesterday.” Hierm blushed and turned his head. He pushed back his sweaty mop of blond hair. “I thought I would see her today. Why do you need to talk to us?”
Oskar had to force himself not to go ahead and tell Hierm what he had heard while listening at the wall of Lord Hiram’s office. The news seemed to be trying to claw its way out of him. But he wanted to tell Hierm and Shanis together. They were his best friends and both would be thrilled by his news. That, and he was not going to admit in Master Yurg’s presence that he had been eavesdropping on the firstman of Galsbur.
“I have the most amazing news,” he said. You won’t believe it. But I want to tell the two of you together.” Nearby, Khalyndryn and her friends had ceased their conversation and were actively pretending not to listen.
“Are you certain that she’s not around market somewhere?” Hierm asked.
“I haven’t seen her anywhere. Strange, she never misses market. What is it?” Hierm’s eyes were suddenly wide, as if something had frightened him..
“She wouldn’t,” Hierm mumbled. “Yes she would. Swordmaster,” he said to Yurg, “may I be excused from my lesson?”
Yurg arched an eyebrow at his pupil, looking like a hawk who had spotted a wounded rabbit. “Would either of you young men care to tell me what this is about?”
“It’s Shanis,” Hierm said. “She i
sn’t here.”
Yurg pretended to scrutinize the empty sword yard. “Truly? I had not noticed.” He smirked. “She is not very pleased with me right now, but she’ll come around once she’s had time to clear that fool head of hers. Why is it of concern to you?”
“She told me last night that she wanted to go away. I didn’t believe her then, but now...” The implication was clear.
Yurg ran his fingers through his closely cropped silver beard before venturing to speak. “Van Derin, one day you’ll learn that women say a lot of things they don’t mean, simply to get a reaction.” This comment elicited angry whispers from the group of girls nearby. Oskar smirked. He had never heard Yurg talk about anything but swords and tales of his battles. “I do feel a bit guilty about the way I treated her yesterday. You are dismissed.”
Hierm wasted no time. Ignoring the nearby gate, he vaulted the fence.
“Van Derin,” Yurg said. “Let me know what you find out.” He sounded unconcerned, but there was an intensity in his eyes that belied his tone.
Hierm nodded and set of at a trot. Oskar groaned and stuffed the last bite of bread in his mouth. He was a firm believer that running should be reserved strictly for those moments when a vicious predator was snapping at your heels.
“Do you really think Shanis has left?” Oskar gasped, trying to keep pace.
Hierm grimaced. “I certainly hope not.”
The Malan’s home was just far enough from town to make the run exhausting. When the tidy cabin and small log barn were in sight, Hierm stopped running. Oskar trotted forward until he had caught up with his friend.
“Why...why are you...” he gasped, resting his hands on his knees. His face felt like it was on fire and salty sweat burned his lips. “Why are you stopping...now? We’re almost...” A rasping cough cut the question short.
“Look,” Hierm pointed to a white horse that stood cropping a tuft of thick grass in the corral that adjoined the barn. “She wouldn’t go anywhere without Shine.”
Oskar dropped onto his backside, panting. A rock dug painfully into his bottom, but he ignored it. “Then we’re in no hurry. Van Derin, one of these days you’re going to kill me. I really mean it. You’re going to kill me.” He lay back on the hard-packed trail. The sky was a rich blue. He wondered if this was the color of the sea of which he had read in one of Lord Hiram’s books. A cotton cloud drifted slowly past, and for a moment he imagined it was a sailing ship come to carry him away to adventure.
“Come on,” Hierm said, his voice earnest. “I’m worried about her. She’s never been like this. Something isn’t right.”
“I’ll help if I can,” Oskar said. His cheeks heated. How could he help? In his mind, his words flowed from his lips like prose from the pages of Lord Hiram’s books, but in reality, everything he said sounded wrong. He stared at the ground, feeling foolish.
Hierm seemed to understand what he was saying. “I’m not sure we can help. Shanis wants to learn the sword, to be a soldier. People around here are not going to let that happen. Of course, I don’t know where she could go.”
“Hallind,” Oskar stated. “It’s an island, actually an island nation. They have male and female soldiers. Some of their elite troops are made up entirely of women. I was just reading about it. It’s fascinating.” He stopped when he saw the look on Hierm’s face.
Hierm pressed his hands to his temples. “Women soldiers? Elite troops? Is this some fairy tale you read somewhere?”
“You’ve never heard of it? Haven’t you read any of your father’s books?”
Hierm shook his head.
“Seriously? How could anyone not... Oh.” Compassion welled up inside of him. He tried to make his voice sympathetic as he placed a hand on Hierm’s arm. “I’m sorry. I just assumed that all you rich people learned to read.”
Hierm slapped the hand away. “Of course I can read, you dolt. I just don’t like to.”
Oskar stared for a moment. He didn’t understand. “Well, in that case, you’re just dense.” He pushed past Hierm and began walking toward the Malan house. Hierm followed. Oskar could feel his friend’s scowl burning into his back. “Don’t you think Shanis might feel a little better if she knew about Hallind?”
“Oskar, don’t you say a word to her. Not...one...word. The way Shanis has been acting, the last thing she needs to hear about is this...Hallind. No telling what she might do.”
Oskar felt a cold tightness in his chest. He could sense a big fight just around the corner. How to avoid it? He stopped and turned around.
“What do you say we just go back to town? I mean, now that we know Shanis is all right.” He was talking very fast. “We don’t want to upset her or anything.”
Just then, Shanis emerged from the house. “Aren’t the two of you missing Seventhday?” She walked past without meeting either boy’s eye. “I’ve a stall to clean, so if you two insist on gawking at me, do it in the barn.” Hierm fell in step beside her. Oskar lagged a few paces behind, debating whether or not he would be able to slip away quietly. His eyes drifted to the wagon track that led back to town. After a moment’s debate, he uttered a resigned sigh and followed his friends into the barn.
The cool, dusty air assailed him immediately. He brushed a sleeve across his nose and suppressed a sneeze.
“We were worried about you,” Hierm was saying. “I was afraid you had gone...oh, I don’t know.” Hierm threw up his arms.
“Where would I go Hierm?” Shanis’ tone was mocking. “Who has any use for a girl with a sword?” She took a pitchfork down from the wall and headed to one of the stalls. It was a small barn, with only two stalls, which Shanis kept clean. She loved horses.
Oskar leaned against a post and watched as Hierm took up a shovel and helped Shanis pick the stall.
“I’m actually quite satisfied with my lot in life,” Shanis continued. “I mean, who wouldn’t enjoy this?” A flick of her wrist sent a clump of manure hurtling at Oskar’s head. Almost too late, he ducked out of the way. The dung projectile struck the post against which he was leaning, spattering dirty clumps on his tunic. “Nice reflexes for such a stout lad. As I was saying, I can spend the rest of my years cleaning stalls, washing clothes and pulling weeds. Quite an exciting life, full of adventure. If I am truly fortunate, I might even have the opportunity to face down some evil foe. Perhaps a garden spider, or a rat.
“Ho there, little field mouse,” she said in a deep voice, thrusting her pitchfork at an imaginary opponent. “Surrender, or I shall skewer thee in the foulest of ways!” Dancing around the stall, she thrust the tines at Hierm’s face. He raised his shovel in a half-hearted defense. Oskar stepped back a few paces just to be safe. Laughing, Shanis feinted high twice before sweeping Hierm’s feet out from under him with the end of the pitchfork handle. “For shame, young rodent. Next time I shall seek combat with a worthy adversary. A groundhog, perhaps.”
Hierm fanned at the cloud of dust that engulfed him. From his seat on the barn floor, he pointed an accusing finger at Shanis. “What is going on? The last time we talked, you were ready to challenge the world to a duel, to run away. Now you’re acting like nothing happened.”
Shanis smiled. “I’m sorry. It was good of the two of you to worry about me.”
“We couldn’t help but worry. Even Master Yurg is wondering where you are.” Hierm picked himself up and brushed at the straw that clung to his backside. “Will you be coming back to sword?”
“Of course. I just felt like making Yurg sweat a bit. I might not be an apprentice, but I won’t stop with the sword until I choose.” Shanis returned to her work in the stall. “I’m still angry, mind you, but I was a bit in the wrong myself. I know Yurg. He will probably stop in tonight to apologize, and that will be that.” She dismissed the thought with a shrug.
“You don’t think you owe him an apology?” Hierm placed his hands on his hips, a posture which reminded Oskar just how much his friend resembled Mistress Faun. “Either way, th
at doesn’t solve your real problem. You can’t be his informal student forever. What do you plan to do?”
Oskar could have kicked Hierm for blurting the question out so hastily. He didn’t want Shanis to lose her good humor.
Shanis stopped her work in the stall. “Didn’t you tell him, Oskar?” Oskar waved his hands to silence her, but the gesture was futile. “Hallind. It’s a country where...”
Hierm’s face contorted in a scowl. “I know about Hallind, and it’s crazy.” He rounded on Oskar, grabbing his tunic. “What were you thinking? You had no business telling her about that blasted place.”
Oskar ripped Hierm’s hands away, and gave the boy a shove that sent him careening into a stall door. “Enough! My business is just that, Van Derin. Mine. Who are you to tell us what to do anyway? You’re more like your father than you think.” Shanis’ sharp intake of breath indicated that Oskar had gone too far. Hierm hung his head, unable to speak. A pang of guilt swept through Oskar. From where had that anger arisen? “Hierm I... well... You just get too bossy sometimes. And you know me, I never say anything right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You were right.” Hierm raised his head to meet Oskar’s gaze. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t want to be like my father.” He turned to Shanis. “You are leaving?”
It seemed to Oskar that something passed between Hierm and Shanis. It was not a question but a benediction. An affirmation of something that those closest to Shanis had always known. Galsbur was not for her, nor she for it. She had never fit in.
“You know I have to go. There’s no other way,” Shanis replied firmly. “I’ll keep working with Yurg while I make preparations. Don’t think I haven’t thought this through.”
“How can you have thought this through?” Hierm waved his arms in frustration. “How long ago did Oskar tell you about this place? A few days ago?”
“The place is not important. I’ve been thinking about leaving for a long time.” Her face grew serious. “This is my home. I don’t take leaving lightly. If there were any way at all...”
“May I interrupt here?” In the midst of all the concern over Shanis, Oskar had forgotten the reason he had been searching for her in the first place. Hierm and Shanis looked at him with mild surprise, as if they had forgotten his presence. “I was looking for the two of you this morning because I have something to tell you. It might be the solution to your problem.”
“My, aren’t we full of useful information?” Shanis mocked.
“Useless is more like it,” Hierm scoffed. “What is this wonderful solution you’ve come up with?”
Oskar ignored their sarcasm. “A man came into town today. He was wearing the livery of the prince’s guard. He came to talk to Lord Hiram. I was listening…” He paused for a moment, blushing. “Anyway, there’s going to be a tournament.”
“The Prince’s Tournament? That’s not held again for months, and even then a town sends only its most talented apprentice.” Hierm argued. “Even if Shanis could somehow become an apprentice, my father would never stand for her to represent Galsbur. Not at the capital.”
“Hierm is right,” Shanis said. “That tournament is for the very best. In the best of circumstances I wouldn’t be ready to try for a spot in the academy for another two years or more. I don’t think I’ll ever have the opportunity. Some day Hierm will, but not me.”
Oskar stood silent until he again had their attention. “Are the two of you finished arguing with me yet? I know what the Prince’s Tournament is. It’s an annual event at which apprentice swordsmen who are ready to become journeymen compete for places in the prince’s elite units. Those who don’t make it join the army, or become free swords.”
“All right, Oskar, you’re very smart,” Hierm jibed. “Now tell us what you learned while you were eavesdropping on my father.”
Oskar ignored that. “There’s going to be a tournament here.” He hurried on despite the suddenly stunned looks on their faces. “It won’t be just swords, either. Archery, wrestling, you name it. Prince Lerryn himself will be here.”
“But why hold a tournament here?” Hierm asked. Shanis remained silent, her face an unreadable mask of thought. “Why Galsbur?”
“There’s a rumor that we might go to war with Kyrin. There will be tournaments like these in many of the larger towns. The best will go to the academy. Others can sign on as foot soldiers. Lerryn hopes to double the size of the standing army in the next year. They need good soldiers. If they see Shanis fight, maybe they’ll give her a chance. They’d have to, wouldn’t they? She’s the best.” Feeling quite proud of himself, Oskar folded his arms across his chest and nodded, waiting for their reactions.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Hierm protested. “You said the larger towns would have tournaments. We’re not a larger town. We’re a nothing town three leagues from nowhere.”
Shanis grabbed Hierm’s shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Who cares about that? Oskar may have something here. This could be my chance.” If the prospect of her nation going to war fazed her at all, she didn’t show it. “If I can put on a good enough showing, they won’t care that I’m a girl. If we go to war with Kyrin, they’ll need all the fighters they can get.”
“I’m not so sure,” Hierm replied. “Do you truly think they’ll let a girl compete? If Oskar has it right, this will be the most important thing that has ever happened in Galsbur. Mother will be in rare form, and Father will not be much better. They won’t take a chance on embarrassing themselves.”
“You’re right about one thing,” Oskar said. “They won’t want to embarrass themselves. That’s why they have to let her compete. Shanis is the best. And you, of course,” he added, noticing Hierm’s frown. “All of the small towns and most of the villages in this part of the kingdom will send people to compete. Master Yurg isn’t going to let them beat us if he can help it. I wouldn’t be surprised if your father felt the same way. Besides, won’t it take the vinegar out of them to be beaten by a girl?”
Shanis squeezed Oskar in a bear hug and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. Her lips were softer than he expected, and the sensation was uncomfortably pleasant.
“That settles it,” she said. “I don’t need to be an apprentice. All I need is the chance to compete. Once they see me fight, all they’ll see is my skill.” She dashed out of the stall. “Besides,” she called over her shoulder, “Yurg owes me!”