Into The Darkness

"Even then, they knew life force helps make sorcery stronger," Vanai said in musing tones. "But they didn't know about ley lines: they still traveled on horseback and carried things in oxcarts."

"Our ancestors were splendid intuitive sorcerers," Brivibas said.

"They had no true understanding of the mathematical relationships by which magic is harnessed though. Ley lines being a far more subtle phenomenon than power points, it is no wonder they failed either to discover them or to predict their existence." He muttered something in Forthwegian that sounded angry, then returned to Kaunian: "A pity I could not learn more of the healing spell that fellow used." With what looked like deliberate effort, he forced himself back toward calm. "At the very least, though, I can now definitively document this power point and its use in imperial times. And let us see what the learned Professor Frithstan thinks of that!" He held out his hands in appeal to Vanai: "I ask you, have Forthwegians any business meddling in Kaunian history?"

"My grandfather, they say it is also the history of Forthweg," she answered. "Some of them, from the books and journals I have read, are scholars to be respected."

"A few," Brivibas sniffed. "A handful. Most write for the greater glory of Forthweg, a subject, believe me, of scant intrinsic value."

He fumed all the way back to the village of Oyngestun, about ten miles west of Gromheort, where he and Vanai made their home. Only when he started tramping along the dusty main street of the village did he fall silent; Forthwegians in Oyngestun outnumbered people of Kauman blood four or five to one, and failed to appreciate the way the elder folk looked down on them as barbarians.

Falling silent didn't always help. A shopkeeper came out to stand on the board sidewalk in front of his sleepy place of business and call, "Hey, old man, have fun playing with your shadows and ghosts?" He set hands on hips and laughed.

"Yes, thank you," Brivibas answered in reluctant Forthwegian. He stalked along stiff-backed, like a cat with ruffled dignity.

That only made the shopkeeper laugh louder. He reached out with one of his big, beefy hands, palm up, fingers spread and slightly hooked, as if he were about to grab Vanal's backside. Rude Forthwegian men - often a redundancy - enjoyed aiming that gesture at trousered women of Kaunian blood. Vanai ignored it so ostentatiously, the shopkeeper had to lean against the whitewashed plaster of his front wall-to keep from falling over with what he reckoned truth.

Fewer young Forthwegian louts were on the streets and cluttering the taverns of Oyngestun than would have been true a few weeks earlier, though: the army had summoned them to fight the Algarvians. King Penda had also taken a fair number of men of Kaunian blood from Oyngestun into his service. As long as they dwelt in his realm and had blood in their veins, he didn't care what sort of blood it was.

Brivibas's house was in the middle of the Kaunian section, on the west side of the village. Not all Kaunians in Oyngestun dwelt there, and a few Forthwegians lived among them, but for the most part each of the two peoples followed its own path through the world.

Here and there, the two folk did mix. When Vanai saw a tall, lean man with a dark beard or a fair-haired woman who was built like a brick, she pitied their Kaunian ancestors. In a village like Oyngestun, such mingling was rare. It was not common in Gromheort, either. In worldly - Brivibas called it decadent - Eoforwic, though, from what Vanai had heard, it was in some circles taken for granted.

"My grandfather," she said suddenly as they went inside, "you could be a scholar at the King's University, did you so choose. Why have you been content to stay here in Oyngestun all your days?"

Brivibas stopped so abruptly, she almost ran into him. "Why?" he said, perhaps as much to himself as to Vanai. After a considerable pause for thought, he went on, "Here, at least, I know the Forthwegians who dislike me because I have light hair. In the capital, I would ever be taken by surprise. Some surprises are delightful. Some, like that one, I would sooner do without."

At first, Vanai thought that was the most foolish answer she'd ever heard. The longer she thought about it, though, the more sense it made.

All things considered, Istvan could have liked the island of Obuda. The weather was mild, or at least he thought so: having grown up in the domain of the Hetman of Zalaber in central Gyongyos, his standards of comparison were not stringent. The soil was rich - again, by his standards.

He is not mind nuilitary discipline; his father had clouted him harder than his sergeant did. The Obudans were friendly, the women often delight filfly so. They said they preferred Arpad, the Ekrekek of Gyongyos, to the Seven Princes of Kuusamo as their overlord.

When Istvan remarked on that in the barracks one morning, Sergeant Jokai laughed at him. "They're whores, is what they are," Jokai said.