Chapters:

Chapter 1

Taleur was on his way home from the harbor market. He had just bought three loaves of bread for the last silver coin his family had left. If only his father had still been alive. But no, he was killed in the last raid he had been away on. True, there had been quite some money in his chest, but a dead warrior didn’t get a large share of the plunder. Now, four months later, there wasn’t anything left. At least it was still summer so they didn’t have to buy firewood. What could he do about it though, he was still too young. Sure he was no child, but no thirteen year-old could pick up his father’s sword and go on a raid.

His foot hit the tin cup of a beggar. The puny copper coins in it were thrown all over the dirty boards of the sidewalk.

“With three loaves of bread you should watch your step“, the man said.

“I’ll watch my step, and you watch where you put that thing“, Taleur said.

“Oh, so lazy you want everything out of your way?“, the man said. He snatched up the coins, wiping off the dirt with the edge of his cloak.

“I just asked you to be more careful. I don’t want to start a fight.“

“Sure, sure. If you’re such a nice young man I’m sure you can share one of those loaves with me?“ The man raised his hand towards Taleur who backed away.

“It’s the last food my family has, I can’t do that.“

“And you’ll eat all of those today?“

“No. What difference does it make if we eat them today or tomorrow?“

“Tomorrow might never come, give me one and I’ll bless you. Tomorrow might be better then.“

“I’ll take my chances“, Taleur said and left. Behind him the man shouted out:

“Curse you by the sun and the moon. Curse you for the rest of your days. Remember me in your moment of need and mourn what you’ve done today.“

Taleur shrugged and kept walking. He should have known, no good ever came from talking to one of them. No wonder they weren’t allowed in the cities after dark. They even worshiped the sun and the moon like barbarians from beyond the sea.

At the temple of Neo he turned left to walk up the hill. The open field outside the temple and the big, flat stone slabs of the temple walls always seemed so different compared to the small, wooden houses of the town. It was almost as if they didn’t belong in the same place.

Just as he turned he heard the thumping of boots against the boardwalk and turned around. There came three of the chieftain’s champions, they were the only ones who were allowed to have their swords with them always. Two of them he didn’t know, but first walked Canour, he’d been his father’s friend. He certainly would recognize him anywhere, he was a head taller than the others and had red hair. What were they doing there? The champions rarely went to the part of town where he lived now, and why three? They marched past him and he continued home.

“Mom, I’m home,” Taleur said. “I only got three loaves of bread, but at least it’s something.”

“Don’t worry about that,” his mother said. “I’ve got myself a job for the chieftain.”

“And so have you,” Canour said, and Taleur turned to see the three warriors standing there. “Your mother has convinced the chieftain to let you become an apprentice to his scribes.”

“Is that really my only choice?” Taleur said and turned to his mother.

“It is a good position”, his mother said.

“I just hoped I could be a warrior.”

“You know I’ve never liked that idea.”

“Of course. I don’t know, maybe I thought you’d let me now.” Taleur looked at the men, but they just looked straight ahead, he’d get no help from them. “But I’ll go, I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“That’s good.” His mother looked relieved.

*

The warriors led Taleur up to the chieftain’s hall on top of the highest hill in Cerua. The thatched roof was high enough that he could see it before they’d even walked past the palisade walls around the area. They walked up to the wooden gate, the warriors nodded a greeting to the watchmen atop and they were allowed inside.

Taleur had been there once before, his father had brought him, but that was several years ago now. Back then everything had seemed so overwhelming in there. It still was big, but not the same. The buildings in there were as gray as the ones outside, and the ground didn’t exactly shine either. The chieftain’s area was almost like a town on its own, there were houses all around, and most of them just as small as the ones in the rest of town. It was only in front of the hall itself that there was any open space, and the chieftain’s hall the only building that was really big.

“It’s through here,” Canour said and opened the door to the hall.

The door was covered in carvings depicting the history of the islands. It began at the top with the people from the World of the Heroes arriving and driving their people away from the continent, then there were crowded boats going south to Saeraa. After that there was a large middle panel showing warriors fighting on the islands, driving away the pagans who had lived there before. And finally there was the osprey leading the ships north over the waters, towards the continent to take back what was theirs.

Beyond the door lay the hall, row upon row of wooden poles held up the roof. In the middle of the hall was the hearth. Now with just a small fire at one end with some cauldrons over it, and a thin smoke rising up towards the hole in the roof, but there was enough space to have fires all along the middle of the hall.

Apart from the people preparing the food the hall was empty and they walked toward a small door in the far corner. Canour who walked first went up to the door and knocked.

“Enter!” a voice rung out from within the room and Canour opened and let them in.The walls in the room were covered in shelves filled with scrolls, and in the middle were tables with candles all around them. A door in one of the walls was open and let in a lot of light. The scribes sat at the tables, one old man with a thin, gray beard, and one middle-aged with a short, black beard. Both were thin, and it was obvious their work didn’t require a lot of strength.

“Here’s your new apprentice”, Canour said.

“He’ll have to prove himself, we don’t have any tolerance for idlers here,” the old man said.

“Treat him however you want, but have some patience with him—he’s here on the chieftain’s order,” Canour said.

“Sure, patience is needed for a scribe. He will not get any special treatment though.”

Taleur looked at the man’s desk, a jar with some black liquid in it stood next to a feather. Below both lay a piece of prepared animal skin.

“Better get used to looking at these tools boy,” the younger man said.

“What’s the feather for?” Taleur said.

The man turned to Canour.

“Don’t expect us to be too gentle. He can’t even connect what he sees,” the younger man said and turned to Taleur.

“If you look closer at the end you’ll see that it’s dark, as dark as the letters on the parchment here.”

“So you use it to write with?”

The older scribe smiled.

“He’s not entirely worthless,” the younger man said to Canour.

“Sounds good, he’s all yours now,” Canour said.

Canour and the other warriors left Taleur there with the scribes.

“So, what’s your name?” the older one said.

“Taleur.”

“I’m Lar and this is Numo. When you want to speak to us you’ll say master though, understood?”

Taleur glanced at the door.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now go with Numo and help him prepare these parchments.”

“I will.”

“Don’t look at us like that, if you have a question then ask it. You’re not in front of the royal court, we don’t have some procedure you have to follow.”

“I just thought you’d teach me how to write.”

“We will, but there’s more to being a scribe than that. Everything in its own time.”

*

That evening Taleur ate in the chieftain’s hall for the first time. The stew wasn’t too different from what they used to eat while his father lived, but after months of trying to get by on as little as possible it was still welcome. He sat with Lar and Numo, just a few tables down from the main table. Few people in his age sat anywhere near him, most were seated further down the hall. There were three who sat further up though, at the chieftain’s table even. Two boys who were about the same age as his little brothers, who were five and seven, and a girl who seemed to be his age.

Even his younger brothers couldn’t make as much noise as an entire hall full of people though. Lar chatted with some craftsmen to his left, and Numo added a word or two. Across from Taleur sat three men, surprisingly dirty for sitting so far to the front of the hall. At first he hadn’t thought about it, but as he got less hungry he began to pay attention to what they were talking about.

“He’s really pushing us this time,” one of them, a man with a hoarse voice and an equally hoarse face, said.

“It’s the king who’s truly behind it,” the second one said. He was a big man, a big belly and a big beard, but with small eyes.

“As if things weren’t hard enough to begin with,” said the third. He was shorter than the other two, but not lacking neither in strength, nor in appetite.

“Should be over soon though,” the big man said.

“Really?” said the short one. “I thought it’d last forever.”

The first man turned and frowned at him.

“Did you now? I thought you had some sense.”

“More than you at least,” the short one replied. “Remember when you were fooled by that merchant from the continent?”

“That’s not what it’s about,” the big man said. He picked up a copper coin and spun it around on the table.

“You trying to distract us?” the first one said.

“No.” He waited until the coin had stopped spinning. “I’m showing you what I mean.”

“Well, maybe you can explain to this doofus in words?” the first one said.

The big one sighed.

“You’re both as thick as boards, but I’ll explain. As the coin can’t keep spinning of itself, the king’s rules can’t stay the same forever.”

“But if he keeps enforcing it?” the short one said.

“If. But would he want that? Nah, I think he’ll see that the swords aren’t as good if you don’t take your time with them.”

Ah, they were blacksmiths. That explained things. Not everyone had a sword, so of course even those who made them had to be special. But apparently not more special than he as they sat at the same table. Maybe there were some good things about being a scribe after all. Maybe, some. It wasn’t like he had any choice though, so at least for now he’d better play along.

*

Taleur was on his way home when he met a group of children. At least twelve or fifteen of them. In front of the rest were five tall boys, perhaps a couple of years older than him, and certainly stronger than him. They all had a dagger hanging at their belt, and new tunics and capes. One of them was taller than the others and went and stood in Taleur’s way.

“So, you’re the new scribe’s apprentice,” he said.

“Yeah?” Taleur said.

“What’s your name?”

“Taleur. And yours?”

“Saerou. So, Taleur, what makes you so good that they’ve chosen you?”

“Do you think it’s something I wanted?”

“I would think so. My little brother, Daerou, has wanted to become one for several years now.”

This was just a nice beginning. He’d just met them and it already seemed as if he’d gotten himself at least one rival.

“Not sure what that’s got to do with me?” Taleur said.

“You’re a scribe’s apprentice when he’s not,” Saerou said. He and the others walked closer to Taleur, they stood all around him now.

“My mom convinced the chieftain to let me be one. I didn’t have a choice,” Taleur said.

“So you can be as thick as a board and still stay just because your mommy took care of things for you.”

What could he really reply to that, it was true. Probably best to remain silent and see if they gave up.

“And now you’re really as thick as a board.” The others laughed. “And you can’t exactly claim you’re deaf,” Saerou said.

“What do you want me to say? My father’s dead, so I don’t really have any choice. I wanted to be a warrior like him, but now that’s impossible.”

“There is something you can do. Make the scribes take on my brother as a scribe as well. Then we’ll let you be with us, but if not we’ll make your life hell.”