CoJ: Chapters 10 through 16

[JasonPratt]

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Chapter 10: Sealed

___I look forward now, beloved; thirty years and more. The Empress sits no longer in her upper room, exposed to the sky, privately baring her soul to the world, pouring her heart into her tablets of clay.
___There is no longer any Empress. There is no Emperor.
___There, is the Arbiter.
___He was not the first.
___He would, however, be the last.

___The clean-shaven elderly man who slowly walked the carpeted aisle, dressed in candlelight-yellow robes, knew about the Arbiter. Most of the people in every Nation, knew about the Arbiter.
___This man, though, didn't know there never would be another Arbiter.
___Neither did any scholars standing around him; nor the man who stood in front of him, wearing an eight-sided four-pointed star picked out in red upon his own yellow frock, above his heart.
___The walking man stopped his walking, having reached his destination.
___In front of him, a podium; upon the podium, a book.
___The pages of the book were blank.
___There would be others to be filled, everyone hoped; but this would be the first of the others.
___The leader of the ceremony nodded to his peer.
___The first man took the first step on his final path in life.
___He reached; received a pen; and then in ink precisely drew these marks upon the page.

❖ ❖ ❖

___I, Khase Sage Exemplar, of Rosatta, port city of the independent state of Noi, hereby dedicate this chronicle: to the Eye, to the Orthogon, and to any people of Mikon who wish to learn something more about the coming of the Arbiter of our Era.

❖ ❖ ❖

___He finished this sentence, beginning his final work. Only his death would end it. Khase had sealed himself to his task, as now he would demonstrate to his peers.
___Khase raised his right hand.
___His leader, the Sage Preeminar of the Rosatta Noi Orthogoni, held a thin metal wafer: a silver kran, unstamped by a nation. In one side had been jotted a sigil; out of the other, a unique arabesque had been carved with jotted precision.
___The Preeminar said nothing; the Exemplar had already given all necessary words, on the page.
___The Preeminar carefully reached, forward to Khase's hand; to the meaty portion opposite the thumb—he applied the silver wafer.
___The sigil had been solely designed for this: as the elemental circuit closed, on contact with his living flesh, materia started reacting within the physical material.
___Khase grimaced, holding steady against the branding burn of searing flesh and sinking silver.
___The Preeminar quickly pulled away his fingers. He had not been burned; this effect had nothing to do with heat, despite its feel. But he didn't want to interfere with any operations of the seal.
___The silver now was fused in Khase's hand.
___Nearby waited an acolyte, a rust-red candle lit. She let some wax drip on the open page.
___Khase held his right hand over the spot.
___As he hoped—a drop of sizzling blood fell onto the wax.
___Had there been no blood, the acolyte also had brought a stylus; with which the sage would have nicked his own hand.
___But this was the better way. The wise respected even their superstitions: had blood not fallen first, that would have been a troubling omen.
___Hot wax; vitalized blood: upon this mixture, Khase forced his hand—
imprinting with the arabesque that now would be his sign forever.
___This formality never would be required again, even for future volumes of his work. All Lifesearchers would aspire to seal their work, of course, with their final breath and blood; but circumstances didn't always favor that intention.
___Khase Sage would gladly endure an occasional press of heated wax,  however.
___A tiny price to pay—to leave his mark in history.
___This completed the ceremony. All the sages signed the book as witnesses; and then, along with the acolyte, returned to other duties.
___Khase brought his book, to his chamber in the Orthogoni. He'd already laid his travel schedule; but like any author, he preferred to commit his ready words to paper.
___Only a dusty prose, to many people.
___For Khase Sage: the doorway to an adventure...

❖ ❖ ❖

___Not many years have passed since the Journal of Seifas was delivered by the Arbiter Lestestauros, to the Promulgators, for publication to the people of all nations. At about the same time, copies of a single document were delivered by mysterious circumstance to every Sage Preeminar of Mikon: the Testimony of Portunista. The method of the deliveries, the existence of an apparent original, the peculiar features of the original and the copies, the combined testimony of the Preeminars: these, along with many textual evidences, provided robust arguments for the genuineness of the Testimony. The Preeminars, guided by the reception of the Journal among the people, authorized the publication of the Testimony as well, once Lestestauros had read and approved the document.
___These widely available histories—penned by a man and a woman who each contributed centrally to the events postdating the Culling of the Era of the Anshu Pax—have been helpful in reconstructing and preserving the ideas and perceptions of many key figures of our recent history. Furthermore, they offer the most consistent records, to date, of the coming of Lestestauros. However, their limited scope sometimes omits details historians might consider important and useful.
___I thus proposed to Hafis Sage Preeminar, of Rosatta Noi Orthogoni, that I should undertake a search into these events, while living memories still remain; and I was granted this privilege, as witnessed by my seal and the signatures of the Exemplars of Rosatta Noi Orthogoni.
___This chronicle is my contribution to the collected history of Mikon.

❖ ❖ ❖

___Sighing contentedly, Khase closed his book.
___Now he was ready to truly begin.


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[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

And the third subauthor for the trilogy is introduced. As it happens, we won't be hearing much from Khase until later, but I didn't want to plop him out of nowhere, and this was the earliest I could feasibly establish him.

Khase's chapters won't always be narrative recollection; but when they are, he'll be providing the viewpoints and thoughts of relatively minor characters about what is happening. Otherwise I use him to provide some long-range foreshadowing as he (and the entourage he gathers) visits areas 30 years ahead of what happens in the main plot.

I'll also be using him to indulge in a little geekery about folk anthropology, story transmission, pre-modern real-world methods of historical research and things of that sort.

Khase is the only character (so far) named after me, vaguely. ;) Jason == Chase == Khase.


This chapter also introduces the first reference to magical objects with a few hints on how they operate. More details on that later (although I don't have any more details per se about the sigiled silver coin now fused into the meat of his hand. It's just an unstruck coin engraved with a pattern uniquely assigned to Khase on one side for sealing documents, and enscribed with magical coding for a short single-purpose event.)

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 11: An Autumn Breeze

___The late afternoon felt stifling still, despite the slope of summer's end, as Seifas walked back into camp, returning from patrol.
___Mists were gathering over the forests. Seifas wished for a breeze, but wasn't expecting any during the Hazyslope side of summer.
___Since midsummer the weeks had been largely peaceful, aside from the usual minor squabbles within a brigade—especially one that had recently conquered an enemy.
___But the juacuar felt edgy.
___It was time to move. Somewhere. Anywhere.
___Preferably somewhere exciting. Somewhere with stocks for the winter, too.
___Not that there was a hurry, yet, Seifas allowed, as he ascended the hillside assigned to his company. But—how could he put it? They had better hurry, if they wanted to keep from having to hurry, to keep from having to hurry...!
___Seifas smiled at himself. What a difference fifty days could make, he thought. Ten weeks ago, the feeling from such an idea would have nettled him. Now he could laugh at the joke—while still of course taking it seriously.
___"'Scuse me, sir!" piped a voice behind him.
___Seifas had heard the person approaching; and had wondered who it would be.
___"Yes, Dayva," he nodded in greeting. "A message for me?"
___"Yes, sir!" saluted the girl, one of Gaekwar's yeomen. As usual, Seifas fought an urge to tell her to go home; brigades were no place for a teenaged girl.
___But she probably didn't have a home anymore.
___This was now her home, and she was doing her best to fit. Not too badly, either: Seifas thought she might one day become a decent officer.
___If she lived long enough. And if her spirit wasn't crushed.
___Normally she was a cheerful soldier, refreshing the world wherever she went—much as the first breeze of autumn would, cutting at last through muggy summer. Seifas felt vaguely sad, that whenever Dayva met him, the edges of her personality froze into a brittle uneasiness.
___"Th' C—Commander wants to meet with you-all. Th' subcommanders, I mean," she stuttered. She still held her hand in salute; Seifas frowned at her lapse. His frown didn't help. "They'll be w-waitin' in th' usual place, f'r you t' get back from patrol. Sir!"
___"Thank you, Dayva," Seifas nodded gravely. "Dismissed." The girl took three steps backward—finally lowering her hand—and sharply spun in place before she marched away in another direction. Well, sometimes the novices tried a little too hard. He doubted that she would rely on formalities very much longer. One day, not many seasons from now, she would be a sister-in-arms.
___Seifas had never had a little sister.
___Juacuara, for a reason no one seemed to know, never had sisters. Not of the Guacu-ara, at any rate.
___He wondered whether his natural mother had carried any daughters...who she was...who his natural father was...
___He wondered how many juacuara, when finally given some freedom, had found their natural families.
Seifas had never been given that chance, even to choose not to search. The Culling had come; almost the moment he'd finished his graduate classes, it seemed.

___And then, he had run...

___Seifas turned away from that thought, unable to face its pain.
___Thinking of a family he would never be able to find, was a relief by comparison.
___So: a sister. A little sister.
___Well, if he had a little sister, he would want her to be like Dayva. He wondered what kind of woman she would become, with the advantages of a military training and discipline—

___and then to his mind there flashed a face—a cold dead face; and cold dead eyes...
___eyes that had been dead before he struck...
___the eyes of a woman who casually murdered the hope of a common sister, for her own amusement...not looking at him, but looking ahead, toward something too awful to bear...

___Had that woman's spirit been crushed, long before?
___Had she been once like Dayva, but then mangled?

___Seifas pitied that woman.
___If she'd only seen something before her, awaiting her as she died—then what hope did she have?

___But...perhaps she had also seen something within her.
___Then there might...just might...have been hope—even in that final moment.
___If there was any justice.

___And Seifas found himself smiling.
___For the Eye was the Lord of Justice.

___How astonishing! He had hope for her!—a woman he gladly had slain as a brigand, a waste of a person!
___Yet, perhaps she hadn't deserved to become the person she had been. Perhaps she wouldn't have been that person, if someone had stood for her.
___Seifas vowed: his little sister would always have someone to stand for her.

___He shook his head—whole minutes had slipped by! His peers might be annoyed by his delay; but, the heat would only become more mild.
___He loped around the western face of the hill, heading northward.


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[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

Section Two is largely dedicated to introducing the main secondary characters and what Portunista's goals are for the rest of the book. Dayva, incidentally, isn't one of those secondary characters; I invented her mainly to give me an opportunity to demonstrate some changes in Seifas' attitudes, in a chapter that also establishes the lapse of time since the end of Section One. She won't be appearing in the rest of the book.

(But never being one to waste a good character opportunity, she and the sword-jumping boy do make increasingly important appearances in future books.  ;) )

In an alternate version of Section One, which I composed while trying to trim down the length and punch up the action more, Dayva is the shepherdess saved by Seifas and Jian!--the alternate version also shows why she doesn't have a home to return to anymore (and that Gemalfan's scouts didn't stumble on her by accident). In my head this is still secret canon (along with another detail to be mentioned next chapter), but until I find a way to make mention of it in-story I won't count it as "official" canon.


This chapter naturally includes my first references to the differences between Mikonese time reckonings compared to the real world. They don't have months (because they don't have a moon!--a detail I found amusingly difficult to try to illustrate in-story), so they have seasonal slopings instead. Years last 400 days, with the seasons evenly divided, which indicates very little axial tilt to the world; but there are only 16 hours a day, not 24. I haven't decided yet if their hours count the same as ours or not, but that would make a difference in whether their 16-hour days last shorter or even longer than ours!

So, fifty days since Midsummer's Eve, meaning summer is technically over and the upslope of autumn is starting.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 12: The Cowherd

___Soldiers lounged  around at rest, as Seifas passed through Gaekwar's side of camp.
___Two of them were sparring using practice sticks. Their lanky commander lay nearby, apparently bored, oiling and cleaning his touted toy, a weapon he called a 'disker'.
___Seifas stopped to watch the practice-duelists. This woman and man were the least of the soldiers of Gaekwar's company. Seifas knew the woman had been training hard, for nearly a year.
___She still hadn't come very far.
___Her sparring partner, previously part of Gemalfan's brigade, possessed more skill, somewhat—and much more confidence. Instead of training, he was merely performing.
___The sweating woman, already bruised from previous passes, set herself on guard again, as her opponent swaggered into position.
___"I promise," he drawled, "I'm going to make this very easy. All you have to do, is stop me from clipping you. Here I come...!"
___With this facetious announcement, the man began advancing, steadily stabbing his longer practice-stick, in a looping overhand arc, right-to-left, high-to-low.
___"Watch it...watch it...You couldn't stop it last time...Isn't it hard to parry a stab like this?"
___The woman's eyes and guard locked onto that scorpion-gait.
___"Can you count the timing right to parry it? Can you? Can you...?"
___The woman twisted her face in thought; she tried to gauge the attack, tried to figure the timing, tried to decide what parry would work—almost upon her...only another stroke or two...
___His left hand looped around and tagged her head, striking with the shorter stick that doubled for his parrying-dagger.
___The woman fell roughly.
___"Too bad," the man guffawed, and stabbed her side with the longer stick. She didn't groan. "You really should learn how to watch two directions at once, you know!"
___"That's a pretty good trick, Carl," drifted an even more languorous drawl from nearby. "Mind if you show it to me?"

___Carl froze. A bead of sweat trickled down his face. "Errr...yeah, sure...Commander..."
___Gaekwar stood, sleepily blinking away the afternoon sun. He left behind his short, blunt leafcutter-axe, and didn't even unstrap the disker from his forearm. Stifling a yawn, he sauntered to the woman.
___"Stick," he said.
___She handed it over; and crawled away to the side.
___Gaekwar gave the stick a glance. "A little longer than what I'm used to, but it'll do for the moment, I reckon. That maneuver looks tough to parry, Carl. Mind if I give it a try?"
___Carl swallowed. "Not a problem, Commander. But—no hard feelings, right?" A grin.
___"Hmph..." Gaekwar tipped the stick some various parrying angles, deep in thought. "Right," he absently answered. "Go ahead when you're ready, don't mind me..." he faded off, squinting at the stick.
___Carl nodded, grinned at the soldiers around them—none of whom grinned back—and then with only a brief hesitation, began his looping attacking advance.
___Gaekwar looked away from his stick, to Carl's progressive attack, then back again. He pursed his lips, subtly turning the stick.
___Seifas wondered whether Carl would have the nerve to blindside Gaekwar, too.
___He needn't have wondered.

___A rapid-cycle whishhing—a faint explosive puff—
___Carl pitched forward and to the right, gasping...
___...then screaming in a muted whine between clenched lips.
___Gaekwar had shot him with the disker.

___He lowered the stick he had never used. His left arm, with the long contraption buckled between his wrist and elbow, still remained pointed at Carl. Gaekwar had smoothly brought it up to fire, not even trying to hide the movement, as normal as resting his hand on his belt, for no particular reason.
___It had been casual.

___The thin commander ambled over to his writhing soldier.
___"Great move, Carl. But, y'know," he said, "you really should learn how to watch even one direction at once. Before you think of yourself as awesome, that is. Oh, wait." He knelt and pulled a metal disc the size of his palm, out from under the wounded knee, wiping it on the trousers of the other man. "I don't believe you'll ever be awesome. Mostly you'll be hobbling around for the rest of your natural life. You're dismissed from the company, Carl. Go and try to find a vendor to be impressed with you." He turned to walk away, sliding the disc through a slot in the spring-loaded cylinder, mounted on the shooting mechanism.
___"Oh, and Carl..." Gaekwar stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "No hard feelings. Right?"
___Carl didn't answer.
___"Right?" the commander asked again. The disker pointed steadily at the wounded man—and not at his other knee.
___"r...right..." Carl gritted out.
___"Good," Gaekwar nodded. "There had better not be."
___Carl resumed his moaning.
___"Better move on along," Gaekwar advised as he ambled away. "Seifas over there just doesn't like to hear tedious droning." And he winked in the juacuar's direction.
___"Decent practice, Meg," he added to the woman. "Thanks for the stick." He tossed it lightly in her direction; she caught it in midair, unsure if she should smile or not.
___Gaekwar had already shifted direction: downhill toward the subcommanders' meeting place. "Get cleaned up, get some food, get some rest," he added over his shoulder as he left the area.
___Carl shrank away from Seifas, as the juacuar resumed his march to the meeting place. The soldiers were quietly laughing, as they dispersed for dinner.
___The longer stride of the juacuar easily caught and paralleled the angular subcommander. The slightly shorter man glanced up from under his free-floating shards of hair.
___"Moooooo-ooo," Gaekwar said sardonically; with his fingers he mimed a scattering herd. Seifas knew his peer was fond of implying that people were cattle who wandered through life in response to whatever was prodding them.
___"You left behind your leafcutter."
___"Ohhhh," the 'cowherd' lazily mused, "I doubt anyone will want to take it. Don't you?"
___And he smiled his lopsided smile again, while his fingers tapped a random beat upon the frame of the disker.

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[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

Gaekwar is my nod to anime (or manga) characters, to put it bluntly. :)

Secondary characters often exist in epic fantasies to be awesome, and while Gaekwar doesn't always succeed at the things he attempts, he's one of the characters who always gets the best lines. I enjoy writing all my characters, but especially him (as well as another secondary character to be introduced toward the end of this Section).


In that alternate version of Section One I mentioned in the notes to the previous chapter, Meg is Dayva's sister, and the only surviving member of her family. Since I've already printed in text that she's been with Portunista's brigade for nearly a year, I (probably) won't alter that later (although neither is it a big deal), but neither does she have to be Dayva's sister after all if I decide to eventually import Dayva's 'secret canon' status as the shepherdess into 'official' canon.

Meg, unlike Dayva (and the sword-jumping boy, whose name is Michabo by the way), won't be showing up in later books, for reasons which will become obvious later in this one. ;)

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 13: Weeds and Oaks

___Only Othon waited in the glade, at the bottom of the hill, when Seifas and Gaekwar arrived.
___"Hey," Gaekwar called as he walked past. "Any sign of our glorious predecessor?"
___"Gone fishing," the big man rumbled; the lanky subcommander laughed in reply. "For you-all," Othon clarified.
___"Fine with me," Gaekwar announced, as he settled his scrawny frame into a cranny near the stream. "I guess I'm where he least expects!" He started cleaning his disker once again.
___Othon, meanwhile, recommenced his careful pace around the small glade's arc. Seifas amused himself by trying to guess which tree the giantish man would choose today. He narrowed the probabilities down to three, before he heard the missing subcommander coming.
___Dagon, in his official black-and-red garb, charged into the clearing at a walk.
___"Finally!" the Krygian huffed. "I do have other things to do than lie around all day!"
___"Drat!" Gaekwar grumbled good-naturedly, as he leveraged out of the crevice. "I guess this means I'll have to do some work around here after all."
___"By all means," invited Dagon, "stay here instead, and play by yourself. More room in her tent that way."
___Actually, Seifas mused, there had been plenty of "room" in her tent, since well before Midsummer's Eve...
___"You can keep that fickle vixen to yourself...if you can," replied the 'cowherd', as he ambled back across the glade. "When she wants me, she can find me; and I'm not overly worried that you will be able to change that fact. How many nights have you 'played by yourself' in her tent, eh?"
___Despite the thin man's casual saunter, Seifas could see his tendons tensing. Gaekwar didn't have his leafcutter handy, and Dagon did have his falchion. Furthermore, Seifas reluctantly had to admit, Dagon was not a completely incompetent fighter. Yet Gaekwar was gently lifting his disker into position.
___But, in the small glade, a long lunge with the talon-shaped sword of the Krygian could negate any distance advantage offered by Gaekwar's unorthodox weapon.
___It would happen, Seifas judged, in the next few moments, as Gaekwar passed by Dagon. Would he shoot first? Seifas didn't know—Gaekwar's idea of honor was somewhat different from that of the Guacu-ara.
___Would one, or both, strike at the point of closest approach? Dagon's hand was twitching; but the Westerner could parry with his forearmed weapon, and for close emergencies he could extend a short triangular blade below its mouth. And at this range, a disc might sever a neck altogether.
___Or, if Gaekwar made it past, then there was Dagon's favorite tactic to consider...
___All eyes slid sideways, to the clearing's edge, as a tree was stripped from the soil with a rippling crunch!
___Othon grunted, then lightly tossed the sapling to the side, for one of his squads to drag to their fires in the evening. His habit of expanding their small clearing, helped to keep his hulking body fit.
___The habit served some other purposes, too.
___"Weeds," he muttered, not looking at anyone, but with evident satisfaction. "Some weeds think they are oaks." He dusted his hands, clanking the gauntlets he'd donned for the 'gardening'.
___Seifas managed not to smile, as the man from Manavilin Island lumbered out of his improvised lumberyard, holstering those menacing gloves in special loops on his belt.
___Dagon swallowed sharply, and then stomped off at a tangent; so he wouldn't seem to be following Othon, Seifas figured. Gaekwar, on the other hand, cocked his eyebrow as he caught the eye of the juacuar, and chuckled—though very softly!
___Seifas finally let himself smile.
___But he also sighed. How many men around him hid their souls behind a screen?

___...and, did he?

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 14: Parries And Ripostes

___As Seifas  hiked uphill, to their commander's tent, he saw that Dagon would be passing near to Jian.
___Children often would gather, after their chores were done, to play with Jian. This afternoon, a group of the older boys had brought some practice sticks, while younger children scampered on one of the earthen berms encircling round the hillside.
___"You might think," the fair man said to them, "that parries should be wild and swooping. Instead you're more likely to flail around, if you aren't thinking!" This inspired a few laughs. "Really, the best kind of parries do the job with minimum effort, allowing you to conserve your strength for punching past the other fellow's defenses. I think the best commander to watch, in order to learn how to parry, is...Othon!" This earned a few more laughs, though incredulous ones. "Now, can anyone show me how Othon attacks?"
___Jian and all the children laughed aloud, as the training boys—and even some younger children—mimed the massive subcommander, in exaggerated swooshes.
___"True!" Jian agreed. "That is how he attacks. But—how does he defend?"
___Some of the boys attempted to carry on clowning for laughter, but, "No!" Jian snapped, jolting them in surprise. "Watch," he smoothly continued past the reprimand, showing how Othon would inward-draw his arms for parrying, keeping the moves of the edged mace controlled and tight, "...until he's in a proper position...to STRIKE!" Jian launched an Othon-ish two-handed chop.
___The children laughed again. Seifas chuckled, too—but, he also easily recognized the principles being used.
___"That is what I want to practice today," Jian declared. "I'm going to work on keeping my parries tight. Now, would anyone like to help?"
___"Me! Me!" Dagon mocked, a high-pitched squeal, causing the boys to jump again; some of the youngest squeaked in shock nearby.
___As Dagon continued his condescension, Seifas saw the scowls on the faces of Jian and the boys were perfectly matched. "I'm a punkie loser and I can fight pathetically, too!" Dagon chirped. Abruptly switching tones, he growled, "But when I grow up, I'm gonna learn how to fight like a winner!" And drawing his falchion, he launched into a competent series of cuts and parries, slicing the air with his talon-shaped scimitar. "Come see me when your mothers decide to let you off their apron-strings," he sniffed, "and when you're worth a real soldier's time to teach."
___"Yes," drawled Jian, turning back to the children, "you also can learn to fight a man by waiting until he's fighting someone else, then cutting him down from behind." To Dagon's shock—and the delight of the audience—Jian sprang into a clownish but accurate representation of Dagon's favorite tactic! "Punkie losers need not apply," he growled in a gravelly Dagon-voice, as he tiptoed from one imaginary fight to another. Seifas thought the children would belch out their lungs, from laughing so hard.
___Snarling, Dagon threw a parallel slice that could have laid a kidney or backbone open, had he connected; but Jian spun away from the cut, and followed it with a parry.
___"As you can see," continued Jian, while Dagon stood frozen in place, "Dagon prefers to cut low and behind from the side. It might have even worked, had I been fighting for real, rather than just pretending. Fortunately," he grinned, "a long thin pole is currently sticking in Dagon's ear, which gives me a chance to discuss his cut." He winked at Seifas; the children resumed their giggling.
___As Jian stepped away, the juacuar removed his weapon gently out of the ear of the Krygian, wiping the wax on Dagon's jacket-shoulder.
___"You should also notice my parry was tight and controlled, unlike the usual parries of some people I could name such as Dagon but won't..." Jian bowed to the clapping and cheering children.
___"I can parry anything a clown like you could throw against me!" Dagon snarled. "That is," he regained a veneer of civility, "if you'll accept a friendly wager."
___Jian weighed him from the corner of his eye, still smiling confidently. "Terms?" he tossed behind him, as he turned away from Dagon again.
___"Since you don't even have a halfway decent sword for paying the bet, perhaps a service then. Clean my boots with your tongue!"
___Jian rubbed his beard in thought and gazed downhill. "Then I wager you...a kiss!"
___He turned once more to face his astounded taunter.
___"Only Tumblecrumble," clarified Jian. "On the mouth." The children were giggling again. "Fair?"
___"I accept!" bit Dagon through a ferocious grin. Sheathing his falchion, he held out his hand—but Jian walked right on past.
___"If you think I'm fool enough to shake a backstabber's hand, you're going to be horribly disappointed later tonight," the fair man snorted. "Come along children! I'm sure that Commander Dagon has a meeting to attend, before we settle our bet."
___The Krygian twisted his face in some different directions, trying to cobble together an angry reply...!
___"You should probably wait to speak—until you're out of earshot," suggested the juacuar; whereupon Dagon swallowed, turned, and harrumphed up the hill.


Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

These two chapter were short enough, and topically related enough, I decided to post them together for subsequent commentary.

Originally they were significantly longer, but I cut a lot out of the first two Sections back during pre-production editing, in order to move things along more briskly. Unfortunately, one of the things I cut out reference to was Seifas' ruminations on Portunista's habits regarding her subcommanders--some of the information still exists, but other portions won't turn up until later now.

But since I can rectify certain inequities in the commentary notes...  8-) When Portunista first started pulling together scattered clumps of soldiers and vendors who were looking for a maga to protect them from other wandering magi, she didn't have any experience with managing troops (although as will be revealed in later books she does have some managerial training of a sort thanks to her family business), so she chose the most imposing soldier handy and promoted him to subcommander: Dagon.

That turned out to be problematic, because Dagon is a vain and blustering man. He could bluff small numbers of troops, and be reinforced somewhat by the threat that Portunista would protect him, but he wanted to be in charge. Portunista decided the easiest way to manage him was to sleep with him, because she knows a technique of magical suggestion connected with that. (A technique that will turn out later to be rooted in basic human magical capability.) Strictly speaking, magi aren't supposed to use it, but it's also more-or-less harmless, so other people warily accept it happens.

Still, not a great situation; but then Othon came along: a much better leader and someone whom Dagon was afraid to challenge. Portunista went to work on him, too, but didn't feel quite right about it (for reasons which will be revealed sometime after Book 3), so when Gaekwar showed up, she moved her habits to him. That was quite satisfactory in several ways, since Gaekwar isn't ambitious (nor Othon) but manages his troops well (as does Othon). But then she started to get bored.

Then Seifas arrived in camp. Portunista was scared to try the same techniques with him; but she had grown too accustomed to having some kind of psychological advantage over her subcommanders in order to protect herself.

Dagon meanwhile knows his position is increasingly precarious: he knows by now that Portunista was never really attracted to him, and there are plenty of more competent subcommanders now (all of whom Portunista has a higher personal opinion of, albeit in varying ways), and dang here comes a whole other new guy in camp (Jian) who also seems competent and whom the Commander seems attracted to, too! Argh!

Dagon naturally thinks his best chance at keeping his position is to bully Jian into submission as soon as possible.

Which allows me to increase the few minor action scenes of this Section. :) But first, it's time to set up what the plot of this book is going to be about.


(Incidentally, I had originally taken the opportunity to introduce the little turtle-shaped pillow toys known as Chiam with the younger kids watching nearby in the parry-training chapter; but it got nixed during trimming.)

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 15: The Monster Inside

___With her maps  laid out in the middle, Portunista's tent was cramped. But this didn't bother the juacuar, who often crouched in corners while scouting or stalking. Fortunately, her quarters were cooling, with evening.
___"Gentlemen," she began. "While decoding Gemalfan's disciplex, to learn what his plans had been, I discovered that he had deduced the location of—a Cadrist Tower!"
___Seifas' spine twinged; he bated his breath, just in case.
___"These towers weren't marked on official maps," continued Portunista. "But, by comparing amateur maps, appropriated from various traders who used to serve the Cadrists, the towers can be uncovered." She paused to smile triumphantly.
___"Here!" Portunista stabbed her master map.
___"The Tower of Qarfax!"

___So.
___Now there would be trouble.

___Seifas bitterly sighed. All eyes turned toward him.
___"You have something to say, Seifas?" Portunista asked with mild surprise.
___"I garrisoned at that Tower, several seasonal slopings ago."

___Anger started burning in the maga's eyes. She could easily work the math: he had joined her brigade bare weeks at most, after serving Qarfax.
___"And why, please tell, did you withhold this information?"
___"Because I didn't think you were ready to know it."
___Dagon snorted at Seifas' answer. Gaekwar ducked his head, propping a grin behind a hand. Othon warily edged away from the line between the juacuar and their irate commander.
___But Seifas focused on Portunista, daring her to explode. Her dusky skin grew pale with rage.
___"And do..." she finally forced through slitted lips, "you think I'm ready now?"
___"No. But I know you'll go there anyway."
___He didn't blink or move, but easily breathed, regularly, in and out, trying to radiate a rational calmness.
___But—later that night, requiring honesty from himself, he wrote down words of treason...

___"She couldn't threaten to punish me with expulsion, or demotion; she knew I would gladly leave, taking along perhaps some soldiers with me. More important, her chances of success in any combat increased dramatically, as long as one of the Guacu-ara worked for her. She knew that, too.
___"I waited; and I listened.
___"Would she rant? Then I would leave: she wouldn't be worth protecting any longer, having become completely unobjective of herself.

___"But—I also thought..."

___Seifas' pen froze to the paper.
___He remembered those moments; lifted his pen, past the ink he had trailed down the page, and tried again.

___"But if her next sounds were percussive, a jotting..."

___Did he dare to write it??
___But he had devoted himself to trying another facet of justice—a justice upon himself.
___He forced himself to relive those moments fully...

___"...then—she would have discovered the length a juacuar can leap, from a tensioned crouch.
___"I didn't need to lower my eyes to see her throat. In my imagination I could feel it crushing, in my hand, against her spine."

___A bead of sweat fell onto the paper. Seifas lifted his pen to start another line, seeing again what he had imagined...

___"We would land...there...further from the flap of the tent.
___"Between myself and freedom, would be three enfuried men.
___"At least three men would die.
___"...and so would my soul."

___There.
___It was written.
___Seifas read over and over again—what he was capable of.

___"But," he continued, no longer bearing to see what he had written, "I would gladly sacrifice myself, to keep her from becoming a monster.
___"Not her. As long as I live it won't be her.
___"So I waited, to learn the extent of my failure."

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 16: Adding Things Up

___Portunista's throat choked.
___She couldn't speak. She barely breathed.
___Here she had been, blundering round in the back of nowhere—and at any moment Seifas could have given her what she'd been searching for!
___She tasted blood; and forced away her irrational anger, swallowing and relaxing. This was not worth chewing her lips to a froth.
___Her first impulse had been to peel back Seifas' skin—she had also learned a few new jottings from Gemalfan's disciplex, and wanted to test a theory of hers.
___But killing the juacuar would serve her nothing. She needed the man—he was an edge that few of her peers could match.
___Besides, she didn't really doubt that he would help her; though whether to win, or merely survive...?
___Portunista wanted to win.
___She exhaled, as gently as she had inhaled, watching the deadly man who crouched on the other side of the maps...his eyes stayed locked with hers, his arms crossed lightly upon his knees. She watched him easily breathe...and knew that she would never intimidate him—not this way.
___And from the corners of her eyes, she watched the other men, watching her watch him...waiting to see what she would do...
___"Perhaps it is just as well," allowed Portunista. "I might indeed have failed, not knowing the things I know, if you had told me earlier. What matters now, is now I know."
___Possibly not the most coherent statement she ever had uttered...! But, she was pleased to see relief from Seifas, as he settled back onto his heels, with a nod. Perhaps he had been wondering how many quivering fragments she would blast him into.
___Well, she thought...he should!
___"Watching you two flare your nostrils, is very entertaining," Gaekwar drawled. "But if you won't be killing each other, I have things to do."
___"I suppose," admitted Portunista thinly, "I had better hear what you may know, Seifas, before I finalize my plans. Please," she added, with an attempt at a smile.
___So, Seifas told how he and nine other men had been recruited from Wye, a border fort between Lemalsamac and Noi.
___"As far as I could tell," he said, "the magus picked the other nine without regard for who they were as long as they seemed healthy."
___"Didn't much care who he got..." Gaekwar stroked his shaven chin. "Except for you. I don't buy it. Something isn't adding up..."
___"Too few," Othon rumbled. Everyone turned to him. "Too few," he insisted confidently.
___Seifas shrugged. "His tower wasn't the size of a keep. And he barracked us on the bottom floor. Then again," he pondered Othon's implications, "the dell in which the Tower stands, provides at least two klips of clear diameter field. We set a couple of outside-roving pickets—I was one myself—but certainly not enough to properly cover the treeline."
___"Too few," Othon repeated, nodding once in satisfaction.
___"What was your squad expected to do?" Portunista settled into place, her anger now forgotten. "Why exactly were you there?"
___"As a garrison. 'For mundane threats,' as Qarfax said."
___"Hmph!" Dagon interjected. "What 'mundane' kind of threats would bother a Cadrist?!"
___"Brigades and their scouts," Portunista mused. "Or maybe bandits. As you can see on the map," she briefly flung her hand, "the area is remote. Demimen hordes? Giants?"
___"Exactly," Dagon nodded. "Even a 'juacuar'," he slightly sneered, "isn't good enough to kill a brigade—or a horde, or anything else like that—and for bloody sure, a squad of faceless mercs would not be tipping the scales! And does anyone else remember what was going on, that Qarfax might have been specially worried about?"
___"Plenty!" Portunista snorted. "Cadrists had been launching wars against each other for nearly a year and—"
___"Dying," Othon darkly finished. He slid his eyes to her; she yanked her line of thought to a halt.
___"Disappearing, yes," she nodded. "Aside from killing each other, too."
___"Like the do-gooding mouthpieces." Dagon didn't look at Seifas, but the man of the Guacu-ara knew at whom that barb was aimed.
___"No!" retorted the juacuar, although he quickly reined his irritation. "All the klerosa vanished at once; the Cadrists began to disappear later, in a progression. Yes?"
___Portunista nodded. "That seems right."
___"Someone who kept his ears clean, would have heard enough to know the difference," Seifas added as an aside. ___Gaekwar blinked and Portunista tilted her head; but Dagon jerked and reflexively rubbed an ear. Seifas smiled.
___"So, did Qarfax disappear on you?" Gaekwar asked.
___"In a way..." Seifas shuddered.
___He told how they had found the magus, on that final night.
___Dagon whistled lowly through his teeth. "So, we could end up burned to ash, hm? I hear the coast is lovely in the autumn..."
___"Clothes." Othon squinted as he thought the matter through.
___"Right!" Gaekwar snapped his fingers. "You found his clothes and things piled on the floor, you said? Around the ash?" ___Seifas nodded. "So he hadn't moved," the 'cowherd' mused, his drawl receding as it often did when deep in thought. "Scorching? Damage from smoke? No," Gaekwar murmured, as Seifas shook his head. "So he didn't burn to death—not in any conventional sense. Talk to us, Portunista."
___"Well...there are several methods..." But she trailed to silence, unable to give a fitting suggestion.
___"So—let's take a tally," Gaekwar resumed his ironic drawl. "We're talking about a powerful Cadrist...right?"
___He flicked a glance at Portunista, who nodded: "Like many Cadre members, he was a researcher. Into principles of superspace, as I remember the rumors. Very strong in Yrthe and Watyr: he wrote a textbook we were taught from."
___"Superspace," Dagon muttered, "hm..."
___"Rogues."
___Othon let the deadly word slip into the chilling air.
___Outside, the sun was setting. Seifas could smell the autumn, in the back of his mind. Earlier on that afternoon, he had been praying for its arrival.
___Now he felt decay, and death.
___"Did you see any sign of Roguents, Seifas?" Portunista asked; with perhaps a tremor to her voice...
___The juacuar shrugged once more. "No. But how would I know? We didn't find a signature nailed in his entrails on the ceiling. Yet, Qarfax certainly died," he emphasized in understatement.
___"Oh, this gets better and better..." Dagon sighed, with equal irony.
___"So..." Gaekwar cleared his throat. "We have a powerful Cadrist," he started again, "who can probably mulch a horde of demimen, if he puts his mind to it; and who also feels reasonably safe in mucking around with the fabric of space. He hires one very good fighter, and a passel of mediocre ones, as some protection above and beyond whatever geegaws he's woven around the area. Nevertheless, whatever he was afraid of still apparently whomped him, not even bothering Seifas and the others. Yet Portunista thinks we oughta traipse on out there anyway—which not only means we're risking our arms being handed to us by maybe a ticked-off Rogue; but also we have to worry about being zorched by anything trip-wired into the place!" And he inhaled dramatically. "Did I miss anything?"
___"It might not have been a Rogue!" protested Portunista. "The Cadrists were fighting one another, remember?"
___"Then why should we go?" asked Dagon, not unreasonably. "They'll have looted his place already!"
___"Clothes," grunted Othon again.
___"Exactly," nodded Portunista. "Whatever killed the magus didn't kill you, Seifas, or your squad. You did find everything still in place, untouched, yes?" He nodded grudgingly. "Something, or someone, strong enough to kill Qarfax so easily, hardly would run and hide at hearing you and your squad coming up the stairs. Therefore, either it only wanted to kill him, or else to kill him and then get one or two particular things: because it left the other things behind. I say odds are good, that we'll still find them there. And if the Tower has been looted already, then someone will have probably set off any traps, and we shall be quite safe."
___"On the other hand," Dagon wryly remarked, "this would seem to mean that Cadrists didn't kill him—they would want his raw materials and equipment for themselves, wouldn't they? At least the 'geegaws' from his body, right? So..." he finished, "do we feel better, or worse?"
___"Worse," muttered Othon, shaking his head.
___But Seifas sighed, for he could see the light in Portunista's eyes. She was looking beyond these problems, to the obvious reward.
___She might one day be like Qarfax!
___Of course, thought Seifas, that had not helped Qarfax...


Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

Back when I first wrote Section One, I didn't have any idea what I'd be doing in (what became) the rest of this book. I knew where I wanted to arrive in regard to how Portunista becomes Empress, and I knew where I wanted to arrive (several books later) in regard to how Portunista stops being Empress, but I needed some things for Portunista & Company to do before she could feasibly arrive at point B(ecoming Empress). I still figured that would be the end of Book 1, but when I realized a smaller book would be more marketable (in theory ;) ) for a new author, I found a stopping place far short of Point B.

The preceding chapters in Section Two allowed me to introduce (most of) the important secondary characters (or all of them really as I hadn't invented the last one yet and didn't yet see a need to), but now I had to come up with something for them to do to gell together as a group and get them moving with a larger army toward Plot Point B.

So, what does 'ista need? Resources for her little army to survive over the coming winter (or else they'll desert or mutiny). But they're large enough they'd need more than a few villages to sponge off (which would be evil and kind of narratively boring anyway), and not large enough to force a city to supply them over the winter (which while also basically evil would be narratively more interesting. Also the obvious next stage after Book 1.  8-) ) Nor are they likely to grow much more in the next several weeks before winter while randomly wandering the hinterlands hoping to stumble on other small forces randomly wandering the hinterlands.

A gadget looting run solves this narrative problem several ways: it's something Portunista would personally be looking to do; it's something that Gemalfan's recent arrival and defeat can provide opportunity for (thus explaining why she hasn't tried already); it's something other wandering small brigades would also be trying, thus providing a focus point for conflict (and providing the extra troops she'll need for conquering a small city later), although none of the characters think quite that far ahead to expect competition yet ;) ; and it provides a stage for working out issues among the group while they cooperate together to overcome common goals.

Plus, to be blunt, low-level characters (even if they have elite butt-kickers like Seifas around) go explore dungeons or towers or things like that until they level up enough to make a real impression on politics. :)

These two little chapters thus pack a lot of usefulness into a short space--which is substantially shorter than in my original draft, because after all nothing is really happening except for characters literally sitting around and plotting out what the plot will be about. ;)

They also gave me an opportunity to work on a few things other than preliminary plot exposition and justification, however.

First, and most importantly, it gave me a way to illustrate that Seifas has some burgeoning romantic feelings for Portunista after all, but because he's so intense they aren't altogether healthy. Moreover, his intensity shows that his newfound sort-of-optimism about justice doesn't necessarily translate over into stable behavior. I didn't have anything particularly in mind at this point, I just wanted to put the pieces in place so I'd have things to play with later. (Also, it's a subtle way of indicating that Seifas could have easily gone the route of thinking that he himself ought to be his own standard of justice--but for people of a particular temperament, when they think they are serving justice they can be just as problematic for other people.)

Second, it gave me some chances to show that Dagon hasn't stayed around this long by being completely incompetent. One of my groundrules was that to avoid him being constantly the group's butt monkey, he ought to be shown to be CORRECT as much as possible. And if he misjudges (which he doesn't at all here), he ought to have good reasons for doing so, with only a few critical lapses due to vanity or jealousy or whatever. Despite how it may seem, Dagon was one of the few characters (along with Portunista and Jian, and the Preface Author) I'd invented before starting the book, and I knew from the beginning where I wanted his character to go, even though I didn't have a clue how to get there. But having him be only an irritating in-group villainous incompetent goofball wouldn't get him there. :) (Besides which, as noted, it wouldn't explain in-story why 'ista had kept him around this long.)

Third, I got to flesh out the way other people (not just Dagon) looked and acted a little. Othon is definitely an authorial self-dare: how much useful information can I pack into as few words from him as possible? (But then I also needed an explanation for why he doesn't talk much, and during this time I came up with one that also explained his unusual size, and basically mapped out his pre-story history, to be revealed later as opportunities arise.)

And last, Seifas' unstable emotional intensity gave me a moment of imaginary action-scene to flesh up the general lack of such things in this Section.


So, with the plot established (although with a few more preliminary conclusions to draw next chapter), and some further characterization drawn up, it's time for the Dagon/Jian duel. :D