Serial
16: Kith and kin
November
13th, 32 S.D. 13:17 Sevia, Central Plains
While it was indeed a great honor for one family to hold the title of Torom for their branch, it was still no less a tremendous responsibility. The Torom managed all of the branch’s affairs across a range of details. Everything from land development, health and safety issues, and finances fell under their administration. Yet the Torom of Holvate was notably different, chiefly for the fact that their branch had been the most influential of them all. Holvate essentially lead the Sventa in all matters. In the Tabran, their very word held sway over all else before the council.
This authority had been derived from two sources. The first was the belief that Holvate, being the oldest house in the clan, had founded Sventa originally. The second was that Holvate actually deserved it in a way. It was by their hands that the lands of Sventa were defended; by their hands many of the most important sites had been settled; by their hands they had provided leadership and guidance through countless generations. For centuries past, they had proven themselves to be the very pillar of the clan. Nevertheless it was not a role without its burdens.
Harle Holvate Sventa examined himself in front of a mirror in his personal quarters. He was a tall, strong man of 28, not quite bulky, but not quite flimsy. Clean-shaven, he wore his dark brown hair combed back and slicked. Though he preferred a more relaxed look, time and circumstance dictated his appearance these days. Ever since his side of the family had assumed the Torom, certain expectations about dress and grooming had suddenly fallen upon them all. He and his father had been affected the most, and to a lesser extent his mother. Harle, being their representative to the Tabran and numerous other meetings in Sevia, obviously had to maintain himself more thoroughly.
Today he wore a long, open overcoat, a pair of gloves, and his best sheepskin boots. Inspecting his image in the glass, he carefully worked the collar of his shirt into place. By his left side, his sword rested in its sheath, holstered tightly to his hip. Harle leaned closer to the mirror, trying to note even the littlest of details. He turned his eyes all around and could see nothing wrong with his looks, save for one thing of note: his face bore a frown upon itself.
He was not the kind of person who fears his duty nor one to irk at the tasks of his position. Even so, there simply were too many events going on one after another. The passing of his uncle had been startling and tragic enough, but as if the world would not allow them any respite, they were suddenly thrust into the job of Torom. The real kicker was the war they were currently waging against Henron, which only tripled their troubles.
“Harle, are you going to eat before we receive Namba and Kelta?” Lesia, his stepmother, came from the hallway and appeared before his door. “Teiva and I already made something, so you had better. You know how long those meetings are at the Tabran.”
And there were still more concerns... He’d only just recently married his wife shortly before the death of his uncle. Their union was a blessing to be sure, one that he had waited years for, but he wanted to ensure it stayed that way. With the things he was now charged with performing, it only mean less time he could dedicate to her. They had just begun their matrimony, yet he harbored persistent fears that he wouldn’t be able to make their most of their relationship. He wasn’t that occupied, not yet, but he dreaded that day when clan matters affected their intimacy.
“Of course I will eat,” he said, glancing up at her reflection before pulling himself away from the mirror entirely. “I need strength and constitution. It is not just a matter of enduring the length of the meetings; it is a matter of surviving them.”
“Sa,” his mother laughed. “Surely things are not that rough.”
Harle turned around and shook his head. “On the contrary, it seems of late all we do in these meetings is fight each other. And of course it is always up to only three or four of us to provide any real order.”
Lesia folded her arms and smiled. “You make it out as if everyone is always bickering in the Tabran.”
“We are,” he assured her as he buttoned himself but down to the waist. “You would not know what a mess these things really are until you have sat there all night yourself. Honestly, it is a wonder uncle ever kept his head...”
Lesia walked over and gently grabbed his arm, leading him out with her. “Sa, your uncle never had to deal with such matters as we do. I am certain we are just having difficult times.”
His mother, as he considered things more carefully, was most likely correct. The last true war that had occurred against their clan was some 45 years or so ago, when his father was barely a teen.
“I suppose so,” Harle murmured as they turned down the hallway.
“Hear yourself!” Lesia cried, laughing. “I know so. This is all but a phase, albeit a very trying one. Now, come along. Teiva and I just made sanata soup and pie. You must have both while they are hot.”
The dining room was actually located in the very center of their large, sprawling dome-like house. The table where they all ate sat beneath the point where the two supporting arches intersected, the very middle of the X they formed. A skylight had actually been installed at this point in the roof, allowing the sun to filter in from above directly. Teiva was already seated herself when Harle entered. She was engaged in conversation with his cousins, the young brothers Zumani and Galdon, 9 and 11 respectively. Since the passing of their father, the two boys and their mother had taken to spending most of their time with Harle’s family, understandably enough. Harle’s aunt, Saima, was physically incapable of really watching over them. It was no trouble for anyone really; that was the purpose, after all, of family.
“And what did you hit first?” Teiva asked.
“Sa, sa!” Zumani excitedly began. “I hit this really far tree. It must have been a hundred meters away!”
“You did not!” Galdon said, chewing on a piece of bread.
“I did too. You saw me hit it and so did cousin Ivi.”
“Sa, but it was hardly that far away.”
“How do you know?” Zumani questioned indignantly. “I did not see you measuring anything!”
“I am afraid I must agree with your brother, Zumani,” Teiva said, smiling. Zumani turned around, his mouth hung open.
“Huh? Cousin Teiva?”
“You cannot shoot that far with a mere slingshot,” she chuckled.
“See?” Galdon said triumphantly. “You just exaggerate everything.”
“Do not!”
Harle smiled to himself. It was good to see them acting so lively. They’d gone through as much as he had in a sense. At the very least, they’d been through more than what most kids needed to, but the Central Plains were rough like that.
“Sa, I hope you three have left some for me,” Harle said as he and Lesia walked in.
“Harle!” Tevia said turning around in her seat. He walked over to her and gently placed a kiss on her cheek. “We just finished making a late lunch.”
“We helped!” said Zumani.
“And because you ‘helped’ it took twice as long to prepare...”
“Did not!”
“Settle down now boys,” Harle said. “Act more like brothers, alright?”
“Sa, cousin Harle...” they said together.
“Sa, sa, look at you; ready to sit down for the fifth Tabran this year are you?” Teiva said, grabbing his coat at the cuff and pulling it before her eyes, as if looking over it finely.
“You know I have no tolerance for this sort of dress, nor any one who thinks it is necessary to conduct an assembly. But still, I am forced to endure both, already twice as much as I should in one year.”
“It is a wonder,” Lesia said, fixing a plate for herself and Harle. “Why does the Tabran only convene twice a year? It seems like a clan of our size would need a more agile form of governance, say on a monthly basis. We may have been too slow to react to the brewing conflict to the south.”
“Or Henron was simply too quick to act. We could have since solved our land disputes peaceably, had they offered us enough time to consider our options.”
“No politics at the table, meche,” Teiva said.
“Sa, I cannot eat and talk at the same time,” he smiled as his mother brought over the food.
“Yeth you ken!” Zumani sputtered, his mouth full of morsels. They all laughed at the boy, but Lesia, as it often was, had to play the role of his mother.
“We can see that, Zuzu. Remember, however, not to do so.”
“Yes Aunt Lesia...” he said, swallowing.
“Speaking of time...” said a voice from around the corner. “I have some news you ought to hear.”
Busama, a slightly distant cousin in the house of Holvate, appeared, bearing his usual dirtied shirt and work gloves. He acted as a sort of groundskeeper for many of the Holvate estates. He was also in charge of managing the various carrier birds for communications with Sventa far and wide.
“A message from Kelta, Harle,” he said, unfolding it and handing it to him. “Apparently Fautna plans to arrive an hour or so earlier than expected. It seems he has a very serious matter that must be raised with you before the Tabran tonight.”
Harle took the note and quickly scanned it before sighing. “Very well then, thanks Busama.” Harle pocketed the missive as Busama waved and left. It was exactly what he didn’t need at the moment: another surprise. Nevertheless, he looked down at his plate and considered things optimistically. At least there was family and pie around.
Not so much as an hour later, Harle stood in front of their house, the largest of several nearby. The long driveway departed from the rest of Sevia, a sprawling city in Sventa. In the distance, rising high above all the other buildings in Sevia, the Vental stood. Not only did it serve as the chief administrative facility of Holvate, it housed the Tabran normally twice a year. Recently though, meetings had been held every month since June.
The court here, like the rest of Sevia, was only semi-paved. Still the heavy clip-clop and rattle of approaching vehicles could be heard from quite a distance. Per the proper tradition of the Sventa hospitality, someone from the household always greeted guests in the court, at least when they were expected. Harle obviously assumed this function today, given that it was he Fautna wished to speak with. However, Teiva had come along as well. The pair chatted away as they spotted the distinctive carriage that held the incoming representative of Kelta.
Curiously, however, another vehicle steadily followed his. In appearance, Harle had seen nothing like it before, though it was but a mere wagon. The emblem on its sides was a sort of business logo Gandians often used to differentiate sellers of certain goods. He could not immediately explain the significance of it all, but surely Fautna would.
“It appears he has people in tow,” Teiva observed.
“Yes,” Harle agreed. “Quite the mystery.”
In a moment, Fautna’s vehicle arrived, pulling up in front of the couple. For whatever reason, the door opened on the side opposite of them, though the person’s identity remained obvious enough from his gait. As Fautna made his way around the horses and his driver, Harle cast another quick glance at the wagon that was only just now stopping behind them. He could only see the driver and the one next to her, a man. Both were Gandians as he had suspected.
“Harle! Teiva!” Fautna cried, throwing his arms out widely. “It is so good to see both of you again.” He embraced each individually.
“It hardly seems like a month,” Teiva smiled.
“Will you be staying with us again for the Tabran’s duration? We would most enjoy your company.”
“Of course,” Fautna nodded. “But I feel terribly imposing these days. You must come and visit us sometime. Regardless, I must ask you to put up with another guest besides myself.” Fautna noted the brow Harle raised, but at such a reaction he only laughed.
“Sa, na, not them,” he said with a slight motion of his head to the wagon. “Rest assured they already have arrangements in Sevia.”
“Then who exactly are we to take in?” Harle asked with a slight confounded frown.
“Do not look like that. They are family after all.” Fautna’s statements only all the more drew expressions of puzzlement from the two.
“Honestly Fautna, you can be so cryptic at times. I wish you would be straightforward.”
Teiva gently grabbed Harle’s arm. “I am sure by now you know my husband greatly disapproves of surprises,” she said, winking up at Harle.
“Sa! Then my niece would be an absolute terror when you visit. What comes out of her mouth sometimes...” Fautna laughed again. “Sa, digressing, this is one surprise you will find very pleasing.”
Harle folded his arms as he gave a smirk. “They are free to try, but I am not so easily pleased,” he said, jesting.
“Sa, they need not even try.” Fautna opened the door and called to its other occupant. “We have arrived, and you will not believe who is here to meet us.”
Though he initially blocked an inside view of the carriage, Fautna quickly stepped around to the side and permitted the passenger to leave. From the vehicle’s hold, down the two short boarding steps, Losha walked out. No longer did she wear the articles of her former life as a student. Gone were her black garments, and now instead she wore a traditional Asten dress. The long-sleeved piece split on both sides when it reached the legs; beneath this she wore thin pants. With winter on the approach, she donned light boots on her feet. Her hair was loose and free, no more tightly braided into a single ponytail.
She looked up at Harle for a moment, but she could scarcely speak at first. However, she closed her eyes, took a breath, smiled and then spoke at last.
“How good it is to see you again, havacha.”
For a moment, Harle could but stand there transfixed. His mouth, agape, could little grasp at any usable word. He let his wife’s hand slip his as he blinked and merely shook his head. Then he blinked again. Teiva’s expression was one of “oh!” mixed with a smile, though she covered her mouth with both palms shortly thereafter.
“Losha... ?” Harle said, his words no more than a hush as his arm reached out to her on its own. “Losha? Is that really you?” His face broke out into an expansive grin as he cried in delight. “Shrieks! If is is not my baby sister, Losha!”
They stepped forward and embraced each other. “Sa, sa! This is beyond all things incredible,” he continued.
Losha laughed. “I am really that astonishing?”
“You are today!” he exclaimed. After their hug, Harle held Losha at arm’s length by her shoulders. He looked into her eyes for a few moments before chuckling to himself and shaking his head again.
“Sa! Look at you. You have all grown up. Where is the little girl I knew that used to chase fish down the side of the river?” They hugged again, longer this time. “You must tell me, malacha, what brings you back to us after too many years apart? And why no announcement either? Had I properly known ahead of time, all of Sevia would have cheered your homecoming.”
“Indeed, we have not seen one another for 13 long years. To that, I fault my hasty return. Coming home to you and father and mother and all has been my only thought these last few days. As soon as my circumstances changed, I departed right away.”
“Circumstances?” Harle asked. “You refer to your education?”
“Yes,” Losha replied, smoothly avoiding the tender topic of what specifically had set her journey in motion. “I am here because I have finished my studies abroad.” It was the truth; she could gain nothing more in Palostrol.
“Wonderful!” Harle cried. “Come, come. Mother and father and everyone must be informed immediately. Sa, we will all go to see them, together. You too Fautna, you sly performer.”
Fautna laughed boomingly but good-naturedly with his arms akimbo. He smiled broadly at his handiwork, the reunion of lost family.
“First though, I am sure you remember Teiva, do you not?” Harle stepped away and gestured sweepingly to his wife. Teiva waved but shortly before going to embrace Losha as well.
“Teiva?” Losha asked. “Teiva Sofos? Now, really it has been too long...”
“Sa, here is our Losha, the one I used to babysit during the spring.”
“Go on and tell her your full name, meche,” Harle said.
After the two women completed their hug, Teiva drew back to show Losha the thin, tight-fitting bracelet she wore on her right wrist, a symbol of marriage among many Astens.
“Teiva Holvate Sventa.”
“You... are married? To...?”
Harle pulled back his sleeve to reveal a matching piece of jewelry on his left.
“The two of you? How splendid! Congratulations, but when did that happen? Mother wrote nothing of the sort in her last letter.”
“It was in May,” Harle smiled.
“And now we are sisters, for real instead of pretend,” Teiva said, taking Losha’s hands in hers. Teiva used to play with Losha as a girl. Losha only remembered the unbound kindness Teiva had shown during the times she would watch over her and her friends. They had always imagined themselves as sisters when they were younger, and many a time they’d even called each other as such.
“First uncle’s death, then the business with the Torom and war, and now my brother is wedded. Sa, I have been gone too long. I only wish I had come earlier this year. Even just a few months of additional absence and how life has further changed from what I recall.” For a moment, Losha looked around her, slowly glancing back and forth, side to side. The imperfect faded memory of just what exactly her home looked like was fully restored as she laid her eyes upon it again.
“Come on, both of you,” Harle said, taking Losha and Teiva by his sides. “We have much to discuss inside. Losha has been gone long enough as it is; I am sure she cannot bear another moment outside our abode. Welcome home, malacha.” He began ushering the two towards the house when he turned around and looked at Fautna.
“But what of the others?” Harle asked.
“The Gandians are merchants who provided me with transportation. I am also accompanied by two of my... students,” Losha said.
“Students, you say? Have you learned so much as to be a teacher yourself now? Simply amazing. Wait until mother and father here about that. Wait until they see you!” Harle laughed lightly to himself. “Well, they are guests of Sventa today. All are free to come inside. We will have ourselves a joyous night tonight.”
Before they could head into the Holvate household, Fautna called to Harle.
“Harle, can you give me a hand over here?”
“Certainly. Teiva, do show Losha and the others inside. I will be there shortly. Sa, get mother and father immediately.” As they went to the dome up the walkway, Harle returned to Fautna’s carriage.
“Here, be a good brother and carry her things,” Fautna said, passing the travel bag Losha had used.
“This is all she came along with?” Harle asked, holding up the little luggage.
“Sa, she is a ‘light traveler’ as they say in Gandian. And it is not that that I need your help with, but I do need a moment of your time.”
“Hmm?” Harle said leaning closer.
“I said I had something important to discuss with you.”
“You mean besides Losha?”
Fautna nodded. “I will not spoil the levity of your reunion, but I shall briefly state your sister may have brought us a solution to Henron.”
Harle reared back and eyed him. “You are not only very mysterious at times in your words Fautna, but also ever the surprise. You are such a performer, you know. What do you mean to say exactly?”
“As I just said, your sister has arrived with more than just herself. She has given us a solution.” He pulled out a bullet, the same that Brigitte’s rifles fired. Harle looked at it closely, but the overall point Fautna was trying to make eluded him.
“This is yet another pleasing surprise. We shall discuss this before we head out to the Tabran. Enjoy the time you have with your newly returned sibling. This war is as good as won.” He patted Harle on the back and made his way toward the house as he pocketed the small projectile.
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