The Water Road

Water Road Wednesday: Second Excerpt from The Water Road

/ JD Byrne / 1 Comment

In this scene, Strefer has run to the Triumvirate compound because of a buzz of rumors that something big has gone down there – very big. Sentinels are standing guard outside the Grand Council building as a crowd swells. She needs to get inside and find out what’s going on, but they’re not supposed to let anyone in.

Strefer stepped up and looked the Sentinel in the eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice a mixture of vigilance and weariness. He was tall and forceful, with fine light-green skin, most likely a Guilder. That was a stroke of luck, Strefer thought. His pikti was slung loosely across his back. The way he carried himself suggested he had been here a while.

Strefer opened the hand in which she had clutched her identifications and handed them to him. “My name is Strefer Quants. I’m with the Daily Register.”

He took the cards, gave them a quick glance, and handed them back to her. “Why should I care? You don’t think I’m going to let you in just because you work for some newspaper, do you?”

“Why not?” Strefer asked, slipping the cards back into her pouch. “Is there something in there you don’t want people to know about?”

The Sentinel shot back at her with a wry smile. “I am afraid I cannot comment,” he said, with affected formality.

“Do you see a notebook in my hand?” Strefer said, keeping the game going. It was one she would surely win. “I’m not asking you for any comment. I’m just asking if there is something going on up there that you’re trying to keep from the public.” She gestured towards the doors at the top of the marble steps.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear, missus,” he said, the smile replaced by a glower as he stared down at her. “I have nothing to say about whether anything is happening inside here. Much less to the likes of you, notebook in hand or not.”

“Fair enough,” Strefer said in concession. She decided to try another approach. “But you’ll let me by so I can make my appointment, at least.”

“Appointment?” he asked, confusion sliding across his face like the shadow of clouds moving across the sky. “Appointment with who? And don’t say one of the Grand Council members. They would be in session now. And, at any rate, they don’t greet visitors.”

Score one for her, Strefer thought. She knew from talking with Tevis that interviews with members of the Grand Council were possible. Cutting them off completely meant something important had happened inside. “Of course it’s not with one of the Council members, who do I look like? No, it’s with,” she paused for a moment, grasping for a name. “Keretki,” she finally said, forced to pull a name out of thin air.

“Who?”

“Keretki,” Strefer said, knowing this was her hook. “You know, the policy coordinator for the Arborians? I have an appointment to meet with him to discuss some trade matters he has been dealing with during the session. I’m sure you’ve seen him around here.” She threw the last line in to dig a little at her adversary.

“No, missus, I don’t know him,” the Sentinel said. “But this isn’t my regular patrol.” Another useful bit of information. “Regardless, I can’t let you into the building right now.”

Strefer turned from amused to angry in a flash. “Now look here. My boss spent weeks setting up this interview, all right? The publisher back in Sermont even had to get involved. This interview will be the centerpiece of our coverage of the Council session for the next week or so. It’s very important. Not just to me, either, but Keretki, too. You know the Arborians, always sniping at each other over the smallest things. He has them all together on the same page for once and wants the public to know about it. Do you really want to be responsible for pissing off all those people?”

The Sentinel stood in silence, reaching for an answer that was not coming.

“It’ll be worth your trouble, I promise,” Strefer said. “Have you ever heard of Olrey, the publisher of the Daily Register? He has a reputation for airing his feuds in the press. He could make things very difficult for the Sentinels, the Grand Council, the…”

Exasperated, the Sentinel put up his hands. “All right, all right, fine. You win.”

“Thank you,” Strefer said, suddenly buoyant. “You’re a very reasonable man.”

But before Strefer could make it up the stairs, he put his hand on her chest to stop her. “Hold on a second. You get to go in, but there are two conditions. First, none of this conversation we’ve had here is going to show up in your paper, all right? I don’t…”

“Agreed,” she said, cutting him off. “Say no more. What’s the other one?”

“Second, the Grand Council chamber is off limits. Got it?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Kerekti’s office is on the other side of the building, I think. I won’t be anywhere near the Grand Council chamber.”

With that, the Sentinel stood aside and let Strefer proceed up the stairs. There were another pair of Sentinels stationed by the front door, but they did nothing to halt her progress. Once inside, she made sure that neither of them were watching her, then she went to look for the Grand Council chamber.

Water Road Wednesday: Gods and Beings In Altreria

/ JD Byrne / 1 Comment

One of the fun things about writing fantasy is that you get to build worlds from the ground up. Since you’re not playing with reality necessarily you can do just about anything you want. It also means you have to do a lot of background sketching to fill in your world. John Scalzi once wrote that he tried to go two questions deep on world building, which makes a lot of sense. It’s important that your world be well rounded (pardon the pun), even when it comes to things that don’t necessarily drive the narrative.

Which is to say that when I was building the world of The Water Road I had to decide what role religion played in it. Even though I’m an atheist, religion fascinates me and I think part of any well developed fictional world would be religion (unless the complete absence thereof was what you wanted to explore). In fact, one of the first things I wrote for The Water Road is the Altrerian creation myth. It’s not actually in any of the books, so this seems as good a place as any to let it see the light of day:

In the time before time, the Maker of Worlds saw a void in the firmament of the heavens.  She decided that it must be filled, lest the other stars and planets be drawn into the void and lost forever.

So the Maker of Worlds cupped her hands and dipped them into the Lake of Eternity.  She brought the water up in her hands and breathed on the waters while molding it into a ball.  When the swirling churning waters had been shaped into a perfect ball, the Maker hung the ball in the firmament and filled the void.

But when the Maker of Worlds looked at the ball of swirling water in the firmament, she was not pleased.  She plucked the young planet out of the heavens and set it in front of her.  The Maker thought for a moment and pondered what was missing from her new creation.

After a time, the Maker took the sharpest knife she could find.  She took the blade in her left hand and held her right palm out over the swirling waters.  In one quick motion, the Maker of Worlds sliced across her outstretched palm and the blood of the Maker fell into the churning, swirling, and empty oceans.

As the blood of the Maker of Worlds fell into the oceans, it began to become solid.  The more the Maker bled, the larger the stain on the oceans would become.  Before long, the spots of blood began to come together and form The Land.  As the land formed, the churning seas beat upon it, breaking off small parts which became The Islands.

The Maker of Worlds healed her wound and surveyed The Land.  With her breath, the Maker calmed the rough seas.  With her lips, the Maker gave the new world a kiss of life – to The Land, to The Islands, and to the seas.  Weakened by her work, the Maker hung the now living planet back in the firmament, where she forgot about it.

Eons passed before the Maker of Worlds remembered her watery creation with the one continent upon it.  In the time that had passed, The Land had become full of life.  Not only animals and plants, but intelligent beings, who lived together in communities and created a society.  The Land was rich and plentiful, but its inhabitants still found things to fight about.  They constantly warred, on upon the other, seemingly without end.  When the Maker saw what had become of her world, she was depressed.  And she was angry.

In her anger, the Maker of Worlds lashed out at her creation.  She drove a single finger into the soil on the east side of The Land.  Then, she drug it across the entire breadth of The Land, changing it forever.  In the wake of the Maker’s finger came Great Basin Lake and The Water Road.  To the south of the river, great mountains heaved up from the soil, all the way south to the cold southern seas.  To the north, The Land cracked and two great rivers were formed as water rushed into the fissures.  The far north, beyond the reach of the waters, became barren, dry, and inhospitable.  The people of The Land were likewise shattered, north and south, divided by the Water Road into Neldathi and Altrerian.  Many multitudes died.

When the Maker of Worlds realized what she had done, she howled in pain.  After all, she was a creator, not a destroyer.  He had lashed out in anger because her children had disappointed her.  Her anger saddened and disgusted her.  As she held back tears, the Maker of Worlds took the wounded world and gently placed it back in the firmament.  She vowed never to touch it again and let her children be.

And then, history began . . .

The Neldathi and the Altrerians were both polytheistic and shared the same pantheon of deities, but interacted with them in different ways. The Altrerians treated the gods as a group, beings that were all involved in the order of the universe. By contrast, each of the Neldathi clans had one god as a protector and venerated him or her over the others. The Maker of Worlds, in spite of the creation myth, wasn’t really part of the pantheon.

At the time The Water Road begins there’s been a seismic shift in the way the Altrerians think of the gods. Sometime in the semi-recent past, a Great Awakening swept across the nations of the Triumvirate. Only this wasn’t an awakening of religious fervor, but the emergence of a consensus that the gods actually didn’t exist. How people dealt with this varied – in the Guilds religious belief and observances disappeared in a generation, while the Telebrians hung on to the traditional cultural aspects of belief while largely proclaiming not to believe anymore.

On top of that, among the Neldathi there’s also a new strain of religious thinking. A movement led by a man named Goshen preaches that the gods are all actually different aspects of the one actual god – the Maker of Worlds. He and his beliefs will play an important role in The Water Road.

Water Road Wednesday: The Neldathi of Kentucky?

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

I have a list of topics for these Water Road Wednesday posts. I sat down last December and wracked my brain to come up with everything I could talk about without going too far into what actually happens in the books. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d wind up with a post about the blue people of Kentucky.

Although the story began much earlier, it came to the attention of doctors in 1975 when a child in the hospital was being treated based on the blue color of his skin (“as Blue as Lake Louise”). Then, as:

a transfusion was being readied, the baby’s grandmother suggested to doctors that he looked like the ‘blue Fugates of Troublesome Creek.’ Relatives described the boy’s great-grandmother Luna Fugate as ‘blue all over,’ and ‘the bluest woman I ever saw.’

Turns out, genes were to blame:

The Fugate progeny had a genetic condition called methemoglobinemia, which was passed down through a recessive gene and blossomed through intermarriage.

* * *

Methemoglobinemia is a blood disorder in which an abnormal amount of methemoglobin — a form of hemoglobin — is produced, according to the National Institutes for Health. Hemoglobin is responsible for distributing oxygen to the body and without oxygen, the heart, brain and muscles can die.

In methemoglobinemia, the hemoglobin is unable to carry oxygen and it also makes it difficult for unaffected hemoglobin to release oxygen effectively to body tissues. Patients’ lips are purple, the skin looks blue and the blood is “chocolate colored” because it is not oxygenated . . ..

According to family tradition, Martin Fugate came to the area, in all his bluishness, in 1820. There he married a woman who carried a recessive gene for the condition. Four of their seven children were blue. Other families in the area showed signs of the condition, too, with one group being described as “bluer’n hell.” The Fugate family began to move away in the early 20th Century, as coal mining picked up in the area.

Although it’s a genetic condition (exacerbated by inbreeding), it can also be caused by exposure to certain chemicals. It’s one of those conditions that’s so rare no doctor ever sees it, but they all learn about it medical school.

Did the Fugates and their like really look like the Neldathi of The Water Road universe? Doubtful. But it’s kind of interesting that a clan-based group of mountain dwellers I pulled out of my imagination have a kind of real world equivalent. Truth, as they say, is never a match for fiction.

Water Road Wednesday: The Slaisal Islands

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

The world of The Water Road is dominated by the continent of Altreria. It’s where the titular river is, where the Neldathi and Triumvirate face off, and where most of the action in the trilogy happens. It’s not the only bit of real estate in this world, however.

The Slaisal Islands are a chain of islands that lie off the continent’s northeast corner, curving away from the Badlands toward the northeast. Those who live there, called Islanders, are, naturally enough, sailors and fishers. In general, they stay out of the political squabble between the Triumvirate and the Neldathi. In short, if there’s a vacation spot in the world of The Water Road, this is it. I mean, consider the sunsets:

 

Lake_Malawi_-_Cape_Maclear_-_Thumbi_Island_Sunset

Not really the Slaisal Islands, obviously – they don’t even have cameras yet! But you get the idea. Photo of Lake Malawi in Tanzania, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

The Islanders are also traders, effectively controlling the commercial network at sea. Since they’re not part of the Triumvirate they aren’t bound by the alliance’s command to not do business with the Neldathi. In fact, there are four Islander cities along the Neldathi coast. They serve as way stations for Islander vessels, but also provide the only regular contact between the Neldathi and the outside world. There’s a similar Islander city on the northern coast, serving the same function with the Azkiri nomads who roam the Badlands.

In spite of their position on the periphery of events in Altreria, the Islanders are a key part of the story of The Water Road.

Water Road Wednesday: Oberton

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

I’ve talked a little bit about the great walled cities of the Arbor, the large city-states that formed the Confederation. While they dominate the dense wooded area, they aren’t the only thing there. Smaller cities and towns pop up in various clearings. One of them, even, takes a slightly different route.

Oberton isn’t quite a mythical city, but it’s a city with a lot of mythology around it. That’s pretty much par for the course when you build a city in the trees. Here’s Rurek, introducing Strefer to the mythos of Oberton:

“Oberton is a city in the Arbor…” he said, before Strefer interrupted with a wave of her hand.

“Hang on. I thought the names of all the cities in the Arbor ended the same way: Tomondala, Kerkondala, whateverdala,” she said, emphasizing the last two syllables before trailing off.

“Sort of,” Rurek said. “In the ancient tongue, ‘dala’ literally meant ‘walled city.’ So ‘Tomondala’ literally means ‘Walled City of Tomon.’ The seven city-states that make up the Confederation are all walled cities, so their names all end the same way. But there are lots of other cities and towns in the Arbor, Strefer. You didn’t think there were only the seven, did you?” he asked with the kind of grin that said he hoped she did, so he could hold it over her in the future.

“Pfft,” she said, waving off his accusation, “of course not.” She wasn’t so drunk to concede that she had never actually given the matter any thought.

“Oberton is a city that’s almost right in the center of the Arbor, somewhere between Maladondala and Vertidala,” he said.

“Somewhere?” Strefer asked.

“Nobody is quite sure where it is, to tell the truth,” he said.

“Wait, are you sure it really exists at all?” Strefer asked. “It sounds a little fishy.”

Rurek rolled his eyes, as if the existence of Oberton was a settled fact where he came from. “It’s not like the other cities in the Arbor, Strefer. It’s up in the trees, built along the tops of the massive trunks that have grown up there. They say you could be standing right underneath the town square and never know it.”

Strefer was not quite buying this, but he might as well continue, anyway. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Rurek took a drink and continued his explanation. “It’s renowned as a city of learning and history. Sort of like your people, Strefer, when the awakening came and the priests and monks of the various orders there put aside the gods and became scholars of history. They say Oberton has a great library that holds many ancient texts and great secrets. In Oberton, they treasure learning and truth above all else.” [/quote]

Hmm. A mysterious city in the trees where truth is valued above all else. A woman who needs to get the truth out whatever it takes. Wonder if those things might play well with each other?

NOTE: As it happens, the theme for this week’s edition of One Line Wednesday on Twitter is “up.” Look for more blurb about Oberton there using #1lineWed.

Water Road Wednesday: Rurek of Kerkondala

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

Does every story need a sidekick? If so, then I suppose you can consider Rurek a sidekick in The Water Road trilogy. He’d be a pretty good one, if you needed it. Strefer certainly thinks so.

Rurek is a Sentinel. As I mentioned earlier, Sentinels are both the intelligence gatherers for the Triumvirate and also act as a police force for the city of Tolenor. Rurek works in Tolenor, although he had a brief stint in one of the forts along the Water Road (as all Sentinels do). He walks a beat, trying to keep people out of trouble, a role that suits him quite well.

Rurek is originally from Kerkondala, one of the great walled cities of the Arbor (the suffix “dala” means “walled city” in the old tongue). Kerkondala sits on the bank of the River Adon at a place called The Narrows, where the Adon and the River Innis are at their closest. Because of that, at one time Kerkondala controlled all passage from north to south. After a great war with Maladondala, to the south, it had to relent and open the Arbor to more people.

Like every other Sentinel, Rurek’s been trained in the use of the pikti, the fighting staff. He’s a student of its history and, while not a master, can use it very effectively. For a time at the Sentinel academy in Tolenor he taught new recruits how to use the Sentinel’s signature weapon.

Rurek has a professional relationship with Strefer, the reporter for the (Sermont) Daily Register. At least he’s a source, one of many she pumps for information at night in the pubs where off duty Sentinels congregate. He tends to have a good handle on what’s going on in the city, since a lot of other Sentinels report to him. He’s fond of Strefer, but never in his life did he imagine the kind of trouble she would eventually get him into.

Water Road Wednesday: My Bad

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

So, the plan with Water Road Wednesdays was to have a post a week every week until the trilogy was released. Sadly, real life sometimes intervenes and has distracted me from my assigned task.

Part of this is related to the book, at least, as I’ve been spending time dealing with two potential cover designers. I’m excited to see what they come up with, but it takes time. And it can be a little distracting.

Also, my day job demands that I go out of town today to go to court to argue a case. It’s my favorite part of the job, so I can’t complain, but it does blow a hole in the week leading up to the argument.

Regular programming resumes next week.

well-be-right-bark

Promise!

Water Road Wednesday: Life In the Guilds

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

As I mentioned last week, Strefer Quants is from the United Guilds of Altreria, what’s commonly referred to as the Guildlands. The Guilders (as they’re known in The Water Road universe) live in a society that’s arranged completely differently from everywhere else in their world, even the Neldathi. Where family and kin create bonds in most places, Guild society is organized around the Guilds to which people belong. There are no families, as we traditionally think about it.

Here’s Strefer explaining to Rurek, her companion through The Water Road, a little bit of how that works:

“You talk about your mother and father, your siblings? We don’t really have concepts like that in the Guildlands. Sure, some woman gave birth to me and some man did his part so that I was conceived, but neither one of them raised me.”

Rurek shook his head. “You don’t even know who your parents are?”

“I told you, the concept of ‘parents’ really doesn’t exist where I come from. But to answer your question, yes, I do know who the two people who produced me were. I’ve met who you would call my mother once or twice. She is in the Guild of Musicians. I met her after seeing her sing at a concert once. She has a beautiful voice. Shame I didn’t inherit it,” Strefer said with a laugh. “The one you would call my father was from the Guild of Soldiers. He was killed fighting the Azkiri, from what I learned, before I could meet him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rurek said with genuine compassion.

Strefer shook her head. “You still don’t get it. I’m not talking about someone like your father, who helped raise you, taught you things, protected you. To me he was never more than a name, and may have always been that way. I’m just answering your question about whether I knew who my biological ancestors were.”

“All right, then. No more sympathy from me,” Rurek said jokingly.

“I’ll take sympathy, thank you, but at the appropriate time and place.”

“Duly noted,” he said. “So, with that bridge crossed, who did raise you, then?”

“Not surprisingly,” Strefer said, starting on the final side of the pocket in which the pages had been hidden, “there’s a Guild for that. It’s called the Guild of Midwives, but it really includes a lot more people than that. Men and women, both, you know. Midwives, wet nurses, caregivers, you name it. They’re the ones that do the hard work of actually raising children.”

“But there’s more to it than that, surely,” Rurek said. “Parenting is more than just making sure your daughter gets fed and has a roof over her head at night.”

“It does in Kerkondala, because your society is structured around individual family units. Families just don’t exist like that in the Guildlands. Have you ever wondered about my last name?” she asked.

“Not really,” he said. “I know it sounds a lot like the city where you’re from, but that’s not uncommon in the Arbor or Telebria.”

“Except that, in the Arbor or Telebria, a similarity between a name and place is probably due to that person’s ancestors naming the town. Quants isn’t a family name, Rurek. It’s a short way of telling people I was born in Quantstown. My actual full, official name, as it appears on the rolls now, is Strefer of Quantstown of the Guild of Writers. Quite a mouthful, huh?”

He nodded. “I guess it is.”

“That Alban who got his head bashed in? His last name was Ventris, because that’s where he was from. Nothing more. My point is there is nothing about me that reaches back to some long line of ancestors, like you have.”

“Who named you, then?” Rurek asked.

Strefer stopped sewing for a moment, looked out over the water, and said, “You know, I’m not sure. Never occurred to me to ask. From as young as I can remember, I was Strefer. I could change it if I wanted to, but it works just as well as any other name, doesn’t it?”

“No argument here,” he said. “Rurek is an old family name, goes back generations. I hate it.”

“Why don’t you change it, then?” Strefer asked, returning to her task.

“Because,” Rurek said, stopping for a second to think about it, “it’s just not done where I come from. Like it or not, I do have some connection to my distant ancestors to worry about. Besides, we were talking about you and your childhood. So the Guild of Midwives did the care and feeding part, right? Then who taught you to read and write and how the world works and all that?”

“The Guild of Teachers,” she said. “I don’t know about Arborians, but I’ve heard Telebrians talk about the limited role teachers play in the education of their children. Makes no sense to me. The Guild of Teachers is where the experts are, in everything from how to cook a meal to how to mend your clothes to how to read and write.”

“So you went to school, then?”

“Of course,” she said. “But that’s not the only place you learn things. You know that. The members of the Guild of Teachers work in schools, but also in the dormitories where children live and all over. They teach adults, too, if they want or need to learn about something new.”

Rurek did not ask any more questions and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “It just all seems so strange.”

“That’s because it’s not what you grew up with,” Strefer said, finishing her sewing and handing the coat back to Rurek. “We are most comfortable with what we know. That’s doubly true when you talk about things like how we grew up. To me, it sounds strange to hear people talking about their families and how much they despise a brother or cousin or whatnot, but will then turn around and defend them from attack by outsiders. It makes no sense to me.” She stood up and slung her satchel over her shoulder.

Guilders form bonds, but on their own terms and for their own reasons, rather than out of a sense of societal inertia. It’s a good example of how they interact with the world – rationally and practically, without an overlay of tradition or concerns about doing things differently. It’s a world view that others in the universe of The Water Road have a hard time grasping.

Water Road Wednesday: Strefer Quants

/ JD Byrne / Leave a comment

If Antrey Ranbren is the most important person in The Water Road trilogy, Strefer Quants is right behind her and, in truth, might have a case for knocking Antrey off the top. The Water Road itself is largely their two stories, splitting off from each making the same world shattering discovery.

Unlike Antrey, who’s a woman without a country, Strefer comes from the United Guilds of Altreria. As a Guilder, Strefer was raised without a traditional family, including a mother or father. This is reflected in her full name – Strefer Quants of the Guild of Writers. Quants is derived from Quantstown, where she was born. Her Guild affiliation is, just that – it shows to which Guild she owes loyalty.

Although Strefer is a Guilder, she works for a Telebrian in Tolenor. She’s the lesser of two reporters stations in the city for the (Sermont) Daily Register, the newspaper of record for the Telebrian capital. Strefer’s boss, Tevis, gets the plum assignments like covering the sessions of the Grand Council of the Triumvirate and writing about matters of state. Strefer, on the other hand, has a much rougher beat to cover.

Her attitude towards her job is summed up in this blurb from last week’s One Line Wednesday session on Twitter:

 

But it’s a job at which she’s very good, particularly when it comes to getting people to open up to her and talking her way into places where she probably shouldn’t be. She has the typical Guilder worldview that prioritizes doing what works and confronting reality head on, rather than adherence to high ideals of an earlier age.

When The Water Road begins, Strefer is in need of a good story (hence the blurb above). She’s about to find it.

Water Road Wednesday: First Excerpt from The Water Road

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In this scene, Antrey accompanies her mentor, Alban, to a reception being held in honor of the beginning of the new term of the Grand Council of the Triumvirate. It’s an uncomfortable evening for all involved.

The reception was being held in a large foyer on the second floor of one of the subsidiary buildings. Antrey remembered that it had once been the home for the Confederation’s trade delegation, but now served as overflow office space for the Grand Council itself. As a result of its heritage, the room was filled with deep rich wood textures, with fine carvings climbing the wall. Candles flew high overhead, providing an endless supply of light that reminded Antrey of dusk on the eastern shore. They arrived slightly behind schedule and the room was already a buzz of multiple conversations reverberating around the oaken hall.

“Come on,” Alban said, tugging gently on her elbow, “we’ll find some drinks.”

They walked over to the other side of the large circular room, to a table manned by a pair of young men. Sharply dressed, one held a wine bottle in his hand, the other some kind of fruit-based punch. Alban picked up an empty glass at the table and gave it to Antrey, before taking one for himself. “Try the wine,” he said. “It’s from Guild vineyards along the northern portion of the River Innis. Best in Altreria, in my opinion.” He held out his glass and it was filled a clear crisp white wine.

Antrey did the same. She looked at the man pouring the wine, studying him. He paid no attention to her, aside from dealing with the empty glass she held. It was impossible to say if that was particularly due to who she was or merely part of his job. She thanked him when the glass was full, but that prompted no response. She turned and faced the crowd while she took a sip of wine. Antrey had not had much experience with wine, beside the common table wines Alban would bring home every now and then. It was beyond her experience to call this the best in the land, but it was very good.

“All right,” Alban said, after they had observed the crowd and sipped their drinks for a moment. “Time to get this over with, yes?”

Antrey nodded and followed him as he plunged on into the crowd. Before they got very far, a voice called out in their direction.

“Alban!” the voice said, from off in the crowd to their right.

Alban stopped just long enough to turn that direction before he was confronted by a large man with dark green skin. A smaller, but similarly hued, woman, hung off his arm. “So good to see you again, old friend!” He wrapped his free arm around Alban in a brief hug. Alban returned the favor.

“Jamil,” Alban said, “it has been a while since you were in the city. What brings you back to Tolenor?”

“I was talked out of retirement by the mayor,” the other man said, with mock exasperation. “Once you come here, everyone insists on sending you back.” He laughed. “Where are my manners,” he said turning to the woman with him. “This is my wife, Utka. Utka, this is Alban Ventris, clerk to the Grand Council.”

The woman extended a hand to Alban, who took it and shook it politely. “My pleasure. And this is Antrey Ranbren,” he said, turning to her. “She is my assistant with the Grand Council. She’s been most vital to my work over the past few years.” Jamil ignored the introduction. Alban continued. “Jamil was a trade missionary from Kerkondala back when I was a Sentinel. We met more than a few times on the roads. Or what pass for roads in the Arbor.”

“We were much younger then, were we not?” Jamil said, with a jovial smile that quickly disappeared. “And perhaps less prone to eccentricity.”

Alban smiled and took a drink, as if thrown back on his heels. “We were younger, Jamil, certainly,” he said, after an awkward pause. “So what brings you back to Tolenor? What task has the mayor given you?”

Jamil launched into a discussion of his trade mission, about which Antrey knew nothing and cared little. She stood beside Alban and sipped her wine. As he spoke with Alban, Jamil kept his gaze fixed on him alone. It was as if Antrey was not even there. This was a new sensation for her. Usually her appearance caused strangers to gawk and follow her through a room. She had come to terms with that years ago. Being treated like a black hole, a non entity that could simply be ignored was more difficult. She did her best to keep a calm façade for Alban’s benefit, at least.

Rather than pay attention to Jamil’s story, Antrey studied Utka. She stood, silent, behind Jamil. Presumably, she knew all that Jamil was saying, yet she nodded as if hearing it for the first time. After a few moments, she turned her gaze to Antrey. They said nothing, but Antrey could sense some shared misery between them. Antrey was roused from her thoughts by Alban’s hand on her shoulder.

“It was good to see you again, Jamil,” he said, turning to walk away. “Perhaps we can talk in a few days.”

“That would be good. I might have to ask you for some help, depending on how things turn out,” Jamil said.

“Come by my office,” Alban said. Without any other parting words, he and Antrey began to walk away.

As they passed each other, Utka reached out and grabbed Antrey’s arm. The two women paused, exchanged glances, and then went their separate ways.

“I apologize for that,” Alban said as they wound their way around various clutches of people.

“For what?” Antrey asked.

“For Jamil. The way he treated you. Or didn’t treat you, as the case may be. I can’t go so far as to call him a good man, but he’s not a bad one. He isn’t the most enlightened of fellows, however. Even within the Arbor. Try not to let it bother you.”

“I really didn’t notice,” Antrey said, lying. She appreciated Alban’s attempt to smooth things over, even if it cost him little.

They had almost reached the other end of the room when Alban changed direction and intercepted a woman who had just broken away from a small group. “Galenna!” Alban called out after her. She stopped turned, began to walk towards them, and greeted him with a smile.

Antrey surveyed Galenna as she approached. She looked to be about Alban’s age, with some cracks and wrinkles evident on her face, which was dominated by bright black eyes that almost overpowered the pale green of her skin. She was dressed in a formal military uniform, pale yellow with hints of silver around the collar and cuffs. Although Antrey did not recognize the insignia, she must be from the Guild. Telebrian women were not part of the military. While some of the cities in the Confederation had women fighters, they were more organized as irregulars or ready militia. A professionally dressed military woman could only be from the Guild.

“Hello, Alban,” she said, greeting him with outstretched hands. “How does the evening find you?”

“It finds me well,” he said. “This is my assistant, Antrey Ranbren. Antrey, this is Galenna, Master of the Guild of Soldiers and the new member of the Grand Council from the Guilds.”

“Pleased to meet you, councilor,” Antrey said, with a courteous nod.

“Please, call me Galenna,” she said to Antrey, before quickly shifting attention to Alban. “We’ve known each other too long to rest on formalities, eh, Alban?”

Alban laughed. “I suppose that’s true.” He turned to Antrey. “Galenna was the first woman allowed into the Sentinel corps. They kept her isolated in an outpost on the shore of Great Basin Lake. They sent all the trouble makers there.”

Galenna’s eyes flitted quickly to Antrey, but then returned to Alban before she answered. “Which is why that is where they sent you too, of course.”

“Of course,” Alban said. They launched into a discussion about Galenna’s recent postings, how she found life in Tolenor, and a little about the trouble in the Badlands. All the while, Galenna continued to snatch glances at Antrey. It was if she was afraid to actually look directly at her and be caught by someone. Unlike Jamil, who was content to excise her from his reality, Galenna was concerned about Antrey’s presence. What was her concern? That the trained beast would break its chains and cause a scene. Antrey sipped her wine slowly and deliberately, breathing deeply. She was shaken from her observations when she heard her name pop up in the conversation.

“As Antrey can tell you,” Alban was saying about something, “the work of the Grand Council can often lose its focus on real issues and devolve into minutiae.” He paused, expecting either of the women to pick up the conversation. Galenna looked nervously at Alban and Antrey, but said nothing.

“Yes, that’s true,” Antrey said, finally, to fill the silence. “But, to be honest, even the minutiae can be fascinating.” It was only a partial lie, one designed to inject some levity into the conversation. It didn’t help.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see firsthand for myself tomorrow,” Galenna said to Alban. “If you’ll excuse me, old friend, I’ve had a long day and will have a longer one tomorrow. I must be going. Good evening.” She turned and walked off before Alban could return the courtesy.

“Wait here for a moment,” Alban said to Antrey before rushing off after her.

Antrey watched as Alban caught up with Galenna just as she was about to leave the rotunda. He grabbed by her arm and obviously surprised her. Alban promptly began to tell her something. Antrey couldn’t hear what was being said, but the tone was clear. He spoke quickly and gestured with his free hand more than usual. At one point, he shifted his feet to block Galenna’s view of Antrey, just as she tried to snatch another glance at her. When Galenna tried to get a word in, Alban cut her off. It was a tense exchange and it made Antrey nervous. She turned away, back toward the bulk of the crowd. Alban returned in a few moments, clearly upset.

“What’s wrong, sir?” Antrey asked.

He sighed. “I’m afraid that I must once again apologize for an acquaintance. And this time, I can make no excuses on her behalf. Galenna, given all she has accomplished in her life and the prejudice she has faced, should know better. I am truly sorry, Antrey. I trust that the entire evening won’t be like this.”

“You should stop apologizing for the acts of others, sir,” Antrey said. He started to say something else but closed his mouth without uttering a word. Perhaps Alban was surprised by her directness. “Neither you nor I can control how others behave or how they react to me. I am, like it or not, a curiosity, sir. It is enough to know that you are offended on my behalf.”

That seemed to please Alban. He looked about ready to start across the room to refill his drink when an elegant older man stepped in front of him. “Alban, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance once more,” he said, extending his hands.

“The pleasure is all mine, president,” Alban said, bowing his head slightly.

Antrey knew at once that this was Atilleo, the current President of the Grand Council. He was also a member of the inner circle of the King of Telebria. Quite possibly, he was the most important person in the city.

“President, I don’t believe you have met my assistant, Antrey Ranbren,” Alban said, presenting her for inspection.

“Why, yes, of course, I have seen her in the chamber many times,” he said to Alban before turning to her. “Good evening, Antrey,” he said, in a slower cadence and at a slightly higher volume than he had been speaking to Alban. “Does it find you well?”

“Yes, president,” Antrey said, somewhat self consciously. “Thank you.”

The older man turned his attention back to Alban. “Are you ready for the start of the session?”

“Of course, president. Antrey has been hard at work making sure everything is in place while I finished my latest volume.”

“Ah, yes. You do us great honor with your work, Alban. It reflects very well on the Grand Council,” Atilleo said.

“Thank you, president,” Alban said, giving him a deferential nod.

“As does all your hard work, Antrey,” Atilleo said, turning to address her. Again, he spoke with a halting tone and talked to her as if she was deaf. “I know that Alban relies on all that you do.”

Antrey mimicked Alban’s nod. “Thank you, president. I have learned a great deal from working with Alban, both within and without the Grand Council chamber. I look forward to hearing the session tomorrow.” In spite of be treated like a dim-witted child, she did her best to match Alban’s eloquence.

The effort obviously threw Atilleo out of his comfort area. “Well, yes,” he said, before pausing awkwardly. Finally, he took Antrey’s hand in his and patted it, like one might pat the head of a small animal. “I am sure you will learn something.” He hastily turned back to Alban. “I beg your forgiveness, but I must go and say a few words. In the morning, then?”

“In the morning, president, absolutely,” Alban said.

Atilleo gave Antrey one last look, smiled nervously at her, and then bled into the crowd.

Alban stood for a moment, speechless. One of the wine servers started to walk past and Alban grabbed him, abruptly and without warning. He shoved his empty glass into the young man’s hand, then took Antrey’s from her and did the same.

“Come on,” he said, turning and walking away from the crowd that was gravitating towards where Atilleo was about to speak. “Galenna was right about one thing. We have an early morning tomorrow.”

Antrey said nothing and they walked back home in silence.