HomeA Chapter by IsemayThe sound of children playing echoed through the late afternoon air, mothers were calling out for their own to return to be washed before the evening meal. Commander Eshenesra rode through the joyful chaos looking for Vaeri.
He spotted her atop a heap of poorly woven branches, standing barefooted and dirty with some poor boy’s wooden sword in her hand chiding them all for going off to dinner without a fight. He had to laugh. She was fierce as her mother sometimes. He had fallen in love with her because she could cut a man off at the knees without ever drawing a blade. She had looked as delicate and as graceful as cultured bloom, but she had seemed as hardy as any wildflower. Vaeri, at this moment, simply looked wild.
Remembering Tanitra at this time of year was painful, but it was a pain he embraced. He called to his daughter, cutting off the excoriation the last of the boys was enduring as he fled, “My fierce little Vaeri, if your command has deserted you, perhaps you can come give your poor father a kiss?”
Her smile, like her mother’s, rivalled the sun in its glory. He watched her leap fearlessly from her perch and run toward him as he slid from his horse to sweep her up. She laughed and hugged him tightly before kissing his scarred face. He put her on his horse and began to walk toward their home, letting her ride as imperious as a queen.
“Who should we be giving that sword back to, Commander Eshenesra?” He teased her as they strolled.
“No one! This one is mine! I won it from Zweitesmedsson.” He grinned at her proud tone.
“You won it? In battle or in sport?” He turned to look up at her and she was giving him an icy glare, her arms crossed still clutching her prize.
“Battle. He bet me his sword I couldn’t put him on the ground and I did. Just like uncle Bulol taught me!” She sounded entirely too pleased about it, he thought. He wasn’t sure what bothered him worse, that she almost gloated over her victory or that she spoke her uncle’s name with such adoration.
“You’re not supposed to use uncle’s name in public, do you remember? You’ll shame him.” He chided. Her face fell. She had taken to the language, but the conventions surrounding names were difficult for most Draimenan. An eight-year-old child could be forgiven a slip, but he hammered it home. “Didn’t uncle praise you for learning so well? Didn’t you tell me in your letter that he was teaching you to fight as a reward?”
“Yes, pappa.” She looked stricken.
“How would he feel if he heard you say that?” He pressed his point and she was silent and almost tearful.
“How would who feel? Wat was said?” The Commander smiled wryly as ‘uncle’ approached. Bulol had an uncanny ability to appear when he was spoken of.
Commander Eshenesra held up his hand to forestall questions, but before he could actually speak Vaeri burst out tearfully with her apology.
“I’m sorry uncle! I forgot not to use your name! I was telling pappa about-about the sword I won.” She held it up for Bulol to see.
Bulol gave the Commander a look that anyone unfamiliar with the large Meazyr would have considered threatening. He approached the horse and held up his arms taking Vaeri from the back of it and inspecting her sword as she clung to his side, sitting on his hip.
“Schoon mina Woldblum, hadst gekempft?” He grinned as she went from tearful to indignant.
“Jah! Nah klar, onkel! Zweitesmedsson sagte, konnte ihm nikt zu grond werfn. Hab gedan ent kreeg mina swerd.” She spoke proudly of her victory.
The Commander frowned. Bulol, however, laughed and lifted her onto his shoulders. “Swerdensieger, je hadst mina namn gesprok? Wozu?”
“Nah! Je hadst mi dat geleerd! Hab ees risht gedan!” The Commander’s frown deepened. Bulol and Vaeri both looked exultant.
“It would do my daughter good to learn a bit of humility. Gloating after a victory is unbecoming.” His look to Bulol was sharp.
The Meazyr scoffed at him dismissively, a wordless sound between a huff and a clearing of the throat. If he were not his sister’s husband, and if she did not care for his daughter while he spent so much time away, that would have been the last Vaeri ever saw her uncle Bulol. The Commander was furious.
Bulol barked as if he were speaking to a young soldier, “Sagst. Wat sagt ain krigar?”
Vaeri brandished her wooden sword proudly and shouted, “Ontergang!”
“Sagst hoegt!” He bellowed, drawing looks from those still in the streets.
“ONTERGANG!” Vaeri yelled with all her might, her sword held overhead.
Bulol grinned proudly as he pulled her down from his shoulders and kissed her head. “Gehst, Swerdensieger, sagst mina frey jer pappa komt.” He watched her race ahead with her wooden sword held as if she intended to strike down anyone who interfered with her errand. “Je have a fiery dochter. Rare for jer leut, let her shine.”
The Commander spoke coolly, “When you have children I look forward to overruling you in front of them and stealing their affections.”
“De affection ih ain kind can’t be stole, only shared.” Bulol’s tone was almost chiding.
“Yet instead of walking with my daughter, I’m now walking with you while she runs ahead on your errand regarding you as a hero, and me as a guest for dinner.” The look he gave to the Meazyr was black and bitter.
“Jer dochter loves je. Komst, I can show je.” Bulol gestured toward his closed shop, only a little out of their way.
Commander Eshenesra stood stonily outside as the Meazyr went into his shop and fetched something, a nearly finished leather scabbard. It had clearly been made by a less than expert hand, not something that the skilled leathersmith would customarily bring from his shop.
“My Vaeri made this?” He took it and looked it over with a father’s pride.
“Jah. Het ze gedan.” Bulol pointed at the plentiful if poorly carved flowers, “Leeblich vaerian, dat je can take witt je, always. Ze denkt oft ih je.”
“And I of her.” He tried to keep the wistful ache from his voice, he looked at the Meazyr and smiled almost apologetically. “Don’t overrule me again, brother. She is my daughter, and I have the right to chide her when I feel she needs it.”
Bulol grunted and inclined his head grudgingly before taking the scabbard back and closing his shop once more. The two walked silently toward the Seat of Redreath where Ianthe and Vaeri would be waiting. © 2017 IsemayAuthor's Note
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