Not Of Those That Breath Alone, But With Him Are Comrades And Those Overcome By His Strength
Unfortunately, Audnauj seemed disinclined to halt for a house-raising. He instead led them toward Falaymya over roads that approached those of Greater Enloffenkir in their width and regular, even paving. “Have to have good internal communication,” Audnauj explained. “Survyais and 'home' Dvanjchtlivs aren't polite enough to take turns invading. Hewekers either, but it's been some years since they made a fuss. Adabans keeping them back, eh?”
The emphasis he put on “home” came as close to scorn as Dirant had ever heard in his voice. That surprised him more than hearing a foreigner distinguish Hewekers from Adabans. “It is the orthodox historical interpretation that formerly the Hewekers attempted to expand eastward largely in response to pressure from the Adaban tribe to its west as we swelled in population and power. However, since the formation of Greater Enloffenkir, it is as you say. Commerce and improved infrastructure have proved superior over mere territorial control, and we never cease telling everyone so.”
“But you can do more of all that with more land, can't you?”
“Yes, and we try to avoid reminding ourselves of that.”
“That's all anyone can do, I suppose.”
Aside from the home decor that challenged the eye's patience and the marked lack of floppy hats worn outdoors, the Redrin countryside could have been confused for that around Fennizen by, for example, Penneram Densos if Dirant had the resources to teleport Ritualists to his continent. They shared a latitude plus or minus a few degrees after all, and Yumin harvest methods were indistinguishable from Adaban techniques as far as a university-educated city boy knew. There was the fact that commoners stopped and cheered when they saw Audnauj ride by, but maybe that sort of thing happened in Greater Enloffenkir too. Just not around Rikeltas. To Naolant Paslig, perhaps.
The journey proceeded pleasurably except for some problems with Audnauj's sore arm after hours of waving his hat to acknowledge the common people as they worked hard in the fields. The mothers bringing their children to get their first sight of a true nobleman slowed the retinue down a tad as well.
“Is every lord so . . . so . . .” Takki started over. She had time to rephrase during a pause for a particularly large group of kids. “Do people love every lord or Lord Audnauj?”
“The nobles are mostly popular,” a page said.
“They don't mess up enough to make us forget how much we aren't being invaded.”
“They've cut down on ordering us to repaint our houses.”
“There are literacy programs. I hated learning how to read, but I don't have to read news about invasions. That solves two problems.”
The testimony of the various servants seemed convincing, though Hugal added some nuance. “There are better and worse ones. Count Blawgnu is up there, and between his two sons, Master Audnauj takes the crown of opinion by a jewel or two. That isn't a saying. I just came up with it.”
“Widespread literacy lets us read about places that give crowns for things,” Eyanya explained.
“Saueyi, right?” Takki evidently employed her literacy for the same purpose.
“Right. Neast too, if you can believe anything about other continents.” Eyanya covered her horse's ears. “I don't think you can.”
Dirant allowed his own mount to hear everything, as the truth was something to be shared, not hidden. “I have been informed by a source I consider reliable, perhaps foolishly, that on another continent there lives a Ritualist who has reached the magnificent level of 50. Almost as impressive is his coat that looks like the fleeces of four separate sheep, and each is the pick of the herd.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“They always have to take it too far, these fibbers,” Eyanya confided to Takki in a louder voice than required for privacy.
One day near noon the cortege arrived at a town called Yunderfinsh that combined two astonishing properties. Hugal laid them out. “You can see the mountains from here.”
“The name, then, is not ironic.” Dirant switched to Adaban. “It means Mountain View.”
“Oh, thank you, Ressi.”
“And I was born there. Hiya!” Hugal rode ahead with Onzalkarnd. The chief attendant customarily made arrangements for accommodations such as his master's lunch by himself or with Yunay laDornsol, but the chance that familiarity might lead to discounts encouraged him to bring the groom along. As for the outcome, Dirant preferred not to think about how much money other people spent. It struck the typical Adaban as, if not quite as gauche as a Yumin house, something to be avoided without good cause, much like a Yumin house.
Yunderfinsh had plenty of those. Too many to avoid. At least the outer coats looked solid without much in the way of flaking. “We widened the streets not long ago,” Hugal informed the party when some commented on the good repair of the place. “Half the town ended up rebuilt. The building companies looked so sad when we finished. We didn't have to rebuild their offices, was the problem.”
Eyanya frowned. “Hugal, I thought you had the heart of a hero. Why didn't you sneak around and burn them down?”
“I tried. Why do you think I ran away from home? To take advantage of a gullible Dvanjchtliv? I didn't know that about the master at the time.”
Seeing Audnauj's flat expression, Dirant attempted to console him in Adaban. “It's with reason that they say familiarity is the pleasantest poison. As much as it might be wished your servants had not become so accustomed to my presence that they speak as freely as ever, think of the opportunities. I'm unsure what those are. Perhaps I can spy on them for you.”
“Frightfully dishonorable, but it may become advisable. Who was it who said that thing you just said?”
“Some goslikenar writer I think. The rest of the work escapes me.”
“Oh, yes, goslikenar. That's that thing you Adabans do where it's like real theater but nobody talks, isn't it? A singer just belts out a plot summary for you. Our literary critics say it assuages the Adaban obsession with privacy by doing away with dialogue. The audience doesn't feel like it's eavesdropping that way. I'm quite interested in it myself; these actors have started to do anything they can to call attention to themselves with the most grating performances you've ever seen. They're like puppies barking at everyone who passes by.”
“'Like real theater?' I have something to say to your critics as well. Perhaps if they shared some of our 'obsession with privacy,' their nobles wouldn't be bothered by their own . . . It's wrong of me to care so much about this.”
Audnauj regained the liveliness that tended to drain out of him when Yumins started talking. “You're making me more interested than I was. Goslikenar is meant to be the dullest thing you ever saw for the dullest people on the continent, but the critics may have it all backward if it gets you all raring.”
Dirant calmed down, his equanimity restored by the improvement in his companion's mood. “I never thought of myself as an advocate. There are good ones and bad ones, of course.”
“Of course. You hate critics? Might that be it?”
“That is exactly it, now that you say so. I was told that travel abroad takes you on an endless path deeper inside oneself, and all that time I never thought Redrin noblemen were the signposts.”
“Is that another goslikenar line?”
“It is.”
“I don't think I like it as much. No, I'm sure I don't.”
“The work as a whole is similarly inferior and correspondingly more popular.”
“I may need some advice when I get around to seeing one of those things. It seems fraught. Is that a fair going on?”
It was, as it delighted local boy Hugal laGihnal for the rest of the retinue at last to learn. The revelation little moved Audnauj, who intended to keep to the plan of having a quick meal there and moving on until he saw his Yumins' eyes shining with hope and their hands joined in prayer. Some of them whined a little too. “A brief break then. Let's not overdo it, shall we?”
“Hurray!” the Yumins shouted. They failed to follow up their cheer with a promise not to overdo it, a deficit which itself might be taken as a promise to the contrary. As long as they could sit in the saddle they were fine, they thought, and while the Dvanjchtlivs agreed, they ever hoped in vain for their servants to adjust their work habits in a more professional direction.
But what had professionalism to do with a fair? As the entourage approached the fairgrounds, its members saw locals wandering around, talking, dancing, doing something about as much like singing as what went on in the vicinity of Todelk University, playing games, and trying to inveigle other locals away from the vulgar crowd, but not doing a single thing that looked professional. Even the food vendors were slacking; clumps of fairgoers waited for their chestnuts covered in some kind of cream while the sellers chatted away. “Covered in some kind of cream or sauce” of course described most Redrin cuisine, whether a fair was going on or not.