The Jongurian Mission (3 page)

Trun
had made it through all ten years of that grueling war, being battered to hell and back again each day along the Baishur River. Halam didn’t know how he’d made it. Stronger men than he had succumbed to the madness of those trenches in the first months, but Trun went the distance. But then Halam figured there were men strong of body, but others strong of mind, and Trun had the latter aplenty. He believed in the cause and had been convinced the Jongurians had made the first move against Adjuria in those first days of hostilities. No one still knew exactly how or why the war happened, but happen it did, and Halam had ended up in it as well.

Stationed well south of Trun,
he’d been part of the force tasked with keeping the city of Bindao, well after it had fallen to Adjurian troops, been retaken by Jonguria, and fallen again. Halam well remembered the hell that had been, and tried not to think about it. He did his time, and made it back home, also in one piece, like Trun.

A
fter peace had been restored between the two continents and the Civil War between the provinces broke out, both Halam and Trun had sided with the Culdovian cause. They both agreed that the Regidian usurpers had to be stopped and the rightful heir to the Adjurian throne put back in place. Their military experience wasn’t discounted and both were soon commanding companies at the Battle of Baden. Halam had thought he couldn’t see anything worse than his three years at Bindao, but those three days outside the Adjurian capital proved him wrong. He tried not to think about Baden either, but the images of the battle came to him unbidden in his sleep still. Those memories would never be shaken.

It was there that Trun finally suffered the injury that he
’d been so lucky to escape all those years along the Baishur River. Leading a charge into the unprotected flank of the Oschem-led wing of the Regidian army, Trun’s horse had been impaled by an enemy lance. When the beast reared up, Trun was thrown to the ground, whereupon his horse fell over on top of him. It was just bad luck that a rock was under his right knee when the beast fell. The knee was shattered, but ironically the injury probably saved his life. Unable to get up, and with the now dead horse blocking him from the sight of the rallying enemy army, Trun was overlooked as his company was slaughtered in a devastating countercharge.
He’d always blamed himself for what happened to his men that day, and probably still does
, Halam thought.

“
If I was only able to get up and have the men see me,” he always said afterward, “the day would have been different. The Battle of Baden would have been over in two days, not three.”

Halam himself had commanded a company at Baden, but whereas Trun’s had met with devastation, Halam’s had enjoyed triumph.
For it was Halam that had rallied the men fleeing from Trun’s company and enabled them to make a stand at a position on the field which proved critical for the next days offensive, an offensive which won the battle for the Culdovian army. While Halam was wreathed in the cheering adulation of royal nobles and common soldiers, Trun had lain in a sick tent listening to a doctor tell him he’d never walk again.

It was for Halam’s rally at Baden that he was given the government post in Tillatia, while Trun had no choice but to head back to the family farm and learn to walk again.
There were a lot of men in his position in those days when the country was coming off of two wars. Many were in worse shape than Trun, and he knew it. He wasn’t one to complain, and it was less than a year before he was back in the fields, although much slower and unable to do the same heavy work as before.

Bryn came into the room and jolted the two men from their reveries.

“That sure is a good horse you got there, Uncle Halam,” he said as he put the flask of milk down on the table and headed to the stove to retrieve three cups. “Judging from the eyes and teeth, as well as the sheen of her coat, I’d have to guess she’s right out of the nobles’ stables in Plowdon.”

“
Well, you’re right that she comes from the stables in Plowdon, but I sure wouldn’t say there’s anything noble about them,” Halam replied as he grabbed the flask and began pouring the milk into the cups Bryn had set on the table.

“
I reckon if we had just one horse like that, Uncle Trun,” Bryn said as he settled himself into the remaining chair at the table, “we’d have no need to do any planting at all this spring. I think a horse like that would bring in more than the price of our grain for an entire season.”

“
Nonsense, Bryn,” Trun replied, looking sternly at his nephew, but also letting his gaze fall upon Halam. “Who’s having that kind of money around here these days? You know well enough how poor-off most of the folk around Eston are. Many have been hit harder than us, and have had to sell-off far more livestock than we have just to get by, and barely at that, I might add. I’d count my lucky stars each night, if I were you, and be thankful for what we’ve got right here.”

“
Yes sir,” Bryn said meekly, bowing his head at the tough rebuke.

A few moments of silence passed before Trun spoke up.
“Well, brother, you say you’ve not come out to run us off our land or to even lend a hand in readying it for the busy season ahead of us. What is it we can do for you now?”

Halam drew in his breath and raised up his shoulders, readying himself for what he was sure would be a tough argument to come.
“Truth is, Trun, I’ve come to talk about Bryn and most particularly about his future here in Eston.”

“
Have you now,” said Trun, eyeing Halam questioningly. “Truth be-told, his future, and all those of Eston, isn’t looking too bright to me these days, what with the price of grain what it is.”

“
Yes, the grain market’s been bad for many years, and all know it,” Halam shot back. “It’s like that all over the country. Fallownia is in the same boat, and the smaller grain producing areas in other provinces are also feeling the pinch.” Halam drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve received word from the royal court in Baden that there’s talk of opening up trade negotiations with Jonguria.”

“
Jonguria,” Bryn cried out, “but Uncle Halam, we’ve not sent them grain since before the war!”

“
Aye, lad, and there’s lots of talk about changing that.”

Bryn, flustered and confused, tried to argue.
“But–”

“
But, nothing, Bryn,” Trun shot in. “You know as well as anyone how tough times are these days.” His stony gaze moved from Bryn to Halam. “If Jonguria’s wanting our grain, I say we give it to ‘em, at a higher price than they’d be setting for us in Plowdon.”

Halam looked down at
his hands. “That’s the talk in Plowdon, and from what I hear, in Baden as well.” He sighed. “What with shipping it all the way to the treaty port on Nanbo Island, or even overland across the isthmus, that cost has got to be made up for.”

“
Aye, and it ain’t cheap to get it here from my fields down to Dockside, neither,” Trun pointed out.

“
True,” Halam agreed. “I’d say that you could expect half again what you make now selling it to the provincial officials in Plowdon,
if
we’re able to come to an agreement with the Jongurians. But remember, we’re just in the planning stages at this point. No royal emissaries have been sent to Jonguria with the proposal, and even the royal court at Baden has yet to come to a firm agreement on the subject. This proposed deal could be months, and possibly even years away. Still,” Halam continued, looking up at the two seated at the table with him, “it is something to hope for.”

“
Now, though,” Trun continued after a few moments, “I don’t see what any of this has to do with Bryn. A young boy living in the farmlands on the outskirts of the country ain’t got no impact on trade negotiations with Jonguria.”

“
True, true,” Halam conceded, “but I’d
like
him to.”

“
Now what are you meaning with that remark, Halam?” Trun asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“
I mean I’d like Bryn to accompany me to Baden to see how a deal like this would move through the royal court.” Halam’s eyes moved from Trun to Bryn. Bryn’s eyes grew wide with excitement as Halam put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I want to give him the opportunity to see his country, to get off this farm and put his mind to something besides fields and stones and livestock for a change.”

“
You know the place for a boy Bryn’s age is in the fields, learning the value of a hard day’s work!” Trun shot back.

Bryn rose from his chair and planted both hands firmly on the table.
“But, Uncle Trun I–”

“
Boy,” Trun said in terse, no-nonsense voice as he laid deathly-serious eyes on his nephew, “this conversation is between me and my brother. It might concern you, but you’ll have no part in it. Now, go out and tend to your nightly chores.”

“
But I–”

Trun moved his gaze back upon Bryn, saying more with a look than he
possibly could with a lengthy tirade.

“
Yes, sir,” Bryn murmured, lowering his head as he shuffled out the door into the twilight of the early evening.

TWO

Th
e two men sat without speaking or looking at one another for some time, each slowly drinking their cup of milk while weighing the words they would use to persuade the other. Halam broke the silence first.

“Trun, we’re the only family the boy’s got now, and really, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve not been much of an uncle for him over his life.”

“That’s for damned sure! You’ve been in Plowdon, or moving around the province. But in all those travels, you never saw fit to stop by and pay us a visit, which you easily could have done more than once every handful of years. The boy looks up to you, Halam, heaven knows why, but he does.”

“Aye, I’ve not been the best uncle, not like you Trun, and my duties in Plowdon
have
caused me to lose sight of family.”

“Aye,” Trun replied.

“Now Trun, we both know the value of hard work, we’ve both our sweat these fields, and I know full well that you still do.”

“
Aye,” Trun said, wiping some caked soil from his clothes. “Just because you’ve got your courtly duties to perform in Culdovia doesn’t mean there’s any task for Bryn to perform. Come harvest time we’ve got the clearing of the fields to do and the preparing for the winter to come. There’s certainly no lack of work on this farm, and I can’t do without an extra set of hands.”

“
Listen Trun, the boy is smart; he can’t spend the rest of his life like you, farming.”

“
And why not,” Trun answered, his anger obviously rising at the perceived sleight.

“
He can go places and be more than just another of the countless farmers in Tillatia. Every time I come back here and see Bryn working he’s nearly always got his head in a book, thinking, studying, and improving his mind. There’s a place for that far from these fields.”

“
Aye, and how often has he nearly upturned a whole row of freshly laid seeds with his eyes on a book and not on the work under his feet?”

Halam sighed.
“Listen, this is a chance for the boy to get out of Tillatia, to see the world, a world at peace, which is a chance that neither of us ever had, Trun.”

“
If the world had been at peace all those years ago, you can rest assured, brother, that I never would have left the farm.”

“
Let him come with me, Trun, let him see the country he lives in, the country he’s spent so much time reading about in books. Let him walk its roads and breathe its air. A man needs to see the results of his daily labors. I’m not talking about stealing him from you forever, Trun. All I’m saying’s that I want to take him along for this round of talks in Baden. He’d be home in time to help with the harvest come fall.”

“
And a fine use he’d be to me then, his head filled with all manner of courtly intrigue and politics, thoughts a-flutter with the latest gossip about the capital’s rising lords and ladies. He’d not know the back end of a hoe from the front by the time you sent him back from that Culdovian hornet’s nest.”

Halam sighed and shifted in his chair, unhappy with the way the discussion was going.
His brother had always been stubborn, and he saw that the task of convincing him was going to prove much more difficult than he’d earlier expected.

* * * * *

After looking after the animals and completing his other chores, Bryn sat down on a large rock set off from the barn to rest and think. He couldn’t understand why his Uncle Halam was so interested in taking him to Baden, or why his Uncle Trun was so intent on having him stay on the farm. Bryn would love to go and see the capital of Culdovia, and all the interesting sights along the way, but it also made him nervous. He’d never been further from the farm than the half-day’s ride to Eston, and he considered that town of about a hundred people large. To travel to Baden, where the people numbered in the thousands, well, he just wasn’t sure he was ready for that. It was not that he
hadn’t
thought about it before. What boy growing up on a small farm on the edge of Adjuria hadn’t? When Bryn thought about it, however, it simply came down to the fact that he didn’t think he was cut out for the courtly and governmental duties that his Uncle Halam performed. All he’d known his whole life was taking care of animals, plowing fields, and harvesting grain. What use was there for the ability to haul stones, mend fences, and milk cows in the capital?