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The Jevlir Caravansary

Category: Fantasy

  • The Sayings of the Master

    Iluan-ga had not felt such excitement for a very long time. She was 81 years old, and a member of a well-disciplined order whose members maintained physical and mental health, and reasonable emotional control.

    She paused in her study of the ancient manuscript. PÂ-EKLI-TÎ-ÂN she read. “The saying of the master.” Not PÂ-EKLI-ÂN “a saying of the master” or even yet PÂ-EKLA-ÂN “a saying of a master.”  More importantly not PÂ-IR-ÂN “sayings,” which would match the readings she knew from more recent manuscripts. In the current dialect it would be PA-IR-AN EKLI, as current speech avoiding the extra infix characteristic of the ancients. “The sayings of the master.”

    This is a work of fiction.
    Copyright © 2011
    Henry E. Neufeld

    Twice before she had encountered this reading, though in modern form, and had heard two different dismissals. In once case the suggestion was simple scribal error. In another, a collective usage. Yet she knew of no other instance of PÂ-ÂN used as a collective. Yet the reading seemed so strange to her as to be utterly impossible.

    There could not be just one saying of the master. Perhaps there was one key saying of the master. That would explain it. Even that was somewhat heretical. The entire order lived their lives according to the sayings of the master. There were thousands of them. The master had spoken much wisdom during his life.

    Yet in a lifetime of study of the manuscripts she had begun to wonder. In her own mind — and strictly in her own mind, as such a thing would never do! — she had formulated a hypothesis. She thought that there had been a smaller collection of sayings, large and full of wisdom, no doubt, yet much smaller than the ones possessed by the order today. To those original sayings had been added the sayings of disciples (specially inspired, she added piously to herself), which expanded the wisdom to meet new situations.

    So she had spent her lifetime, using the blessing of her near photographic memory, to responding publicly to challenges of the wisdom of the sayings, while privately looking for the true core.

    And here at Turio, high in the mountains, with the special blessing of the order due to her long service, she was looking at one of the most ancient collections. If the superscript was to be believed, it dated to a mere century after the death of the master. And it contained the one truly enigmatic reading.

    She had established that earlier sources had less sayings. She had defended the missing sayings by the usual route — establishing their genealogy by tracing them to a reliable source. Yet she had never imagined a singular saying.

    As she recovered from her original shock, her eye went almost automatically to the margin, only to be shocked further. “The story of the saying of the master,” the carefully written note said, “can be found in the inner vault of TU-Û-IZZI-ZHO.” “Where’s that?” she thought, but it hit her, almost before the thought was complete. The ZH sound dropping out in proximity to the hard Z, the common shift of the extended ZZ to something softer. Here she was.

    And there in front of her was the inner vault. She didn’t have explicit permission to look in it, but she thought her commission from the head of the order would cover it. The question was, did she have the key? She worked through the set she had been given, and sure enough there was the key to the inner vault. It appeared nobody thought it particularly important. It was just another cupboard on which the relics of the order might be kept.

    As far as she had been able to tell, nobody here could read the oldest syllabic script in any case. She had to oil the lock to open it, but once inside, covered in dust, she found a stack of manuscripts. She had to work her way through a stack of records from the first year of this monastery’s founding, a historical treasure, no doubt, but of no interest to her. She finally reached a single sheet that appeared to contain some sort of narrative.

    It read (in modernized form):

    This was recounted to me, the founder of this monastery at Turio, by the Follower himself. The Follower sat at the bedside of the the Master when he lay dying. He asked the Master what sayings of wisdom he should pass on to future followers.

    The master spoke briefly, as always. “No saying, only thoughts and actions.”

    Then the master passed on to live amongst the gods.

    Iluan-ga looked at her own translation for a moment. Then she reconsidered the ancient forms and adjusted those last words: “No saying, only thinking and acting.”

    And how, she asked herself, do I think and act now?

  • The Swing over the River

    “And then I let go when I’m at the farthest point out, drop into the river and swim to the far shore. The current will be helping me.”

    “And if you can’t make it?”

    “I’ll come up against that rock.”

    “What rock? I can barely see anything.”

    “There’s a rock in the water just where the river turns. If I can’t make it to shore, I will almost certainly end up at that rock.”

    “And if you miss?”

    They could both hear the roar of the rapids below.

    “If I miss, I’ll die, and you’ll think of another plan.”

    “I don’t think there is another plan.”

    “Let’s get going, then. The bandits can’t be far behind.”

    This is a work of fiction.
    Copyright © 2011
    Henry E. Neufeld

    Sheldon looked around. The ragged group of refugees had pretty much fallen where they stopped. In the darkness with just a waning moon, he couldn’t see their faces, but he knew there would be no hope. They’d been forced further and further south, and everyone knew one couldn’t ford the river here. Soon they would all be killed.But this kid thought he could swing out over the river, and get near enough to the other bank to avoid the rocks. He maintained that the current at that point would push him in the right direction. Not only that, but he’d have to do it with a rope tied around his waist. Once that rope was tied at both ends, they’d run another one, and let the people cross on the one rope while holding the other.

    It would be the end of the road for their mule, who was carrying the supplies. It was the kid again who had inclued that much rope in their load. He seemed to think there were few things that couldn’t be solved with the proper length of rope. Whether the refugees could cross the river in that manner remained to be seen. Sheldon doubted they’d all make it.

    The kid looked at the rope hanging from the tree. The memories were strong. The little river near his home, not too swift, but very muddy, and considered somewhat dangerous, especially for the very young. He’d only been five years old the first time he tried to swing out over the river, much too young. Nothing had ever stopped him. No amount of orders, no punishments, no matter how severe, could keep him away from the rope swing. And he was good.

    As he looked at the river below in the moonlight, he realized how fragile were his plans. There was no room for error. If he was any less skilled than he had said, he would land either amongst the rocks on this side or in the middle of the stream, where he would have no chance to reach the other bank before being swept around the turn and caught in the rapids.

    Then he heard his father’s voice. “It’s dangerous. It’s a waste of time. You need to learn to do useful things.” His father was very fond of useful, practical things. The swing over the river wasn’t useful. Fun, yes, but not useful. His father hadn’t understood fun.

    He positioned himself as far back as he could, to get the most momentum. “What do you think now, Dad?” he muttered, and launched himself over the river.

    He didn’t have time to think. He just reacted. One moment he was hanging from the rope, and the next he was dropping toward the water. He had time for just one thought: This is the biggest thrill I’ve ever experienced. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

    Sheldon felt somewhat different. He only caught glimpses of the kid in the river. He thought he wasn’t close enough to the far bank. Then he saw him crawling out on the rock. He had come up against the rock–barely.

    At that moment all the kid could think was: Too bad I can’t tell my dad. Some useless activity!

    (This story has been submitted to the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival: Swings, though I think it’s mildly off track for that!)

  • Tlisli – Ambushed!

    *It was nearly a week after her first lesson with the sword, and if Tlisli had only had a mirror, she would hardly have recognized herself. Many days of travel with Azzesh had already strengthened her body, not to mention toughening her mind. She didn’t even notice things that would have had her crying only weeks ago back home.

    They followed the river closely, and progress was slow, because the jungle was thick. In addition, Azzesh stopped frequently to collect various plants which she added to her already rather heavy pack. Even though Tlisli knew that Tlazil were much stronger than humans, she was shocked at the load that Azzesh could carry.

    The day was generally normal, though Azzesh had mentioned to Tlisli that they were within a few days of the city. “If we pressed on quickly,” she said, “we would reach the city in about four days. As it is, it will probably be more like five or six. We must watch carefully now as we travel.”

    “Why must we be more careful? Don’t things get safer as we come closer to the city?”

    Azzesh laughed. “Not precisely, small human. When we were far away there were many dangers, but they were far apart. If bandits want to rob travelers, they are going to stay a couple of days away from the city to avoid the guard patrols, but then they won’t go more than a couple of days travel further out because they need to have targets to attack. Further out in the jungle the targets are too few and far between. Bandits don’t enjoy having to hunt for their dinner, indeed they don’t!”

    So Tlisli watched closely as they walked. Azzesh liked to stay where they could see the river from time to time, but where they also had plenty of cover in case someone (or something) on the river should decide they looked like lunch. “Just as I could eat you for my lunch, so there are other creatures who might eat me,” was Azzesh’s comment. “That’s not to mention groups of smaller creatures who might do the same!”

    So when Tlisli thought she heard something that sounded suspiciously like oars dipping in the water and human speech from the river, she quickly hissed a warning to Tlisli, before dropping behind the nearest cover. “It’s always best to get a look at them first,” Azzesh always said.

    Azzesh was actually reaching to push her down, and was pleasantly surprised to realize that Tlisli was already on the ground. The problem was that she had been closer to the river than Tlisli at the time, and she was almost certain that the men in the boat had seen her. Had she just been paying more attention to the river, and less to her effort to catch a rather rare Xiril snake, from which she hoped to milk some venom, she would have seen it earlier. She would never admit to Tlisli that the girl had actually noticed the danger first.

    She motioned to Tlisli to crawl away from the river. They both did so until they were perhaps a hundred feet away.

    “Are they bandits?” asked Tlisli.

    “No, unfortunately.”

    “Unfortunately?”

    “They are much worse. I suspect you would recognize the yellow sun, surrounded by rays, on a black background.”

    It took a moment. Tlisli had practically forgotten the folks who had driven her from her home city. “They can’t be chasing me, can they?”

    Azzesh was momentarily stunned into silence. “And to think I thought I had educated you. Oh how vain are my pretensions to being a teacher! Of course they aren’t chasing you! But we are probably a hundred kilometers closer to the Grand Empire than you were when you left your home city. I had not expected them this close, but I imagine these are scouting ways to cut Tevelin off from its trade routes.” Tevelin was the port city they were approaching.

    “So what do we do now?”

    “Do? We continue northward to the coast and to Tevelin. I think they saw me, and likely you as well, and so they may try to catch us. If so, they’re going to do so further north. I know their boat continued downstream.”

    “Isn’t it possible they just decided to go on?”

    “I’m sure they hope we think so, and knowing that the boat will travel faster than we can walk, they hope we’ll think they are no longer a threat. But I suspect they want to capture us.”

    “So what do we do?”

    “We try to avoid them, but if all else fails, you will get to see how Azzesh fights, and you will get to try your sword in actual combat. I assume you don’t want to be captured by the Grand-Emperor’s forces, do you?”

    “No!” said Tlisli.

    “I will lead,” said Azzesh, “since unfortunately I cannot be  both advance and rear guard. I’m going to assume we’ll spot them first. If they come from behind, you need to move first to get behind a tree, and make sure to yell immediately when they have seen you. You carry a bow with one arrow easily available, just as when you hunt, but you only use that one arrow, then draw your sword. In this jungle, our fight will not be at long range.”

    “OK,” said Tlisli nervously. The thought of actually fighting still terrified her, even though she knew her skill with the bow was almost unimaginably improved over what it had been just a few short weeks ago.

    As it turned out, Azzesh was wrong. The scouting troops of the Grand-Emperor were very skilled at sneaking, and they let Azzesh move right past the first of the ambush. She didn’t notice a thing. In order to keep her from noticing, however, they had to stay somewhat back from the path she was following, so when they moved out to cut Tlisli off, they had several meters of jungle to cross.

    Tlisli was tense and alert, and heard them approaching almost instantly. With a loud shout, she turned, and drew her bow and loosed the arrow at an attacker to her right. A yelp and a crash let of her know that she had hit something. She had no time to decide whether she had stopped or merely inconvenienced that attacker. There was a second warrior coming from her left.

    Tlisli had never been very big on obedience, and on this occasion it was a good thing. Seeing the distance between her and this second attacking warrior, she grabbed another arrow, drew her bow and loosed the second arrow. This time he was coming straight at her, there was no foliage in the way, and the arrow went straight to his heart.

    It was fortunate for Tlisli that the Grand-Emperor’s scouts tended to wear little armor in the jungle. Her arrow went straight to his heart, and she saw him fall. At the same time, she could hear from the other direction that the other attacker had in fact not been killed or incapacitated by her first shot, and he was coming right at her with a short spear. She barely had time to dodge neatly avoiding the spear point and buying herself time to draw her sword.

    While on that first pass he had been so sure he was going to hit her before she realized he was there, as he turned, he was much more careful, feinting with his spear to try to get her off-guard. She had gone immediately into the defensive stance that was so necessary in practicing with Azzesh, and she now realized it’s value.

    He stabbed at a point to her left, and she simply moved her sword inside to protect her torso. It was a good thing, because that was where he moved immediately afterward. Had she parried the mis-aimed blow, she would have been out of position, and he could have stabbed her right in the chest. As it was she parried his next attack with her sword, and took advantage of the time his spear was out of position from her parry to step in closer.

    It was the last thing he was expecting. There was nothing deeper in the mind of a Grand Empire soldier than disdain for women. To him, Tlisli was just a girl. She might wiggle out of his reach, but she would not be a direct threat.

    He was wrong. As she stepped forward and stabbed his gut with her sword, he had only a moment to realize it. She withdrew the sword and struck again, then checked to be sure her other opponent was still down.

    She had been hearing sounds of fighting, about where Azzesh would have been, and she guessed that she had been subject to the smaller attack, probably because the attackers underestimated her so much. These two warriors were to separate her from Azzesh, while presumably the larger force attacked the larger target.

    Despite the short distance between them–less than five meters–there was a tree between her and Azzesh. She came around that tree with her sword at the ready, and saw Azzesh lying prone a large human standing over her, preparing to stab his spear into her. There were already three bodies on the ground, testimony to the speed and thoroughness of the Tlazil’s attacks. Yet she was bleeding, on the ground, and helpless.

    Without thinking, Tlisli charged forward. The warrior jumped back, leaving Azzesh lying between them. Then he made his big mistake.

    “Give it up, girl!” he said. “There’s no way you can defeat me. Your Tlazil master is dying and can’t save you. In fact,” he twitched his spear point back and forth carelessly, “I won’t kill you. The men of my patrol need some entertainment, and though ugly, you will doubtless be adequate.”

    Tlisli didn’t pay attention to the speech. She watched his spear twitch back and forth. He began to criticize her sword stance, pointing out that in that position, she would be best able to go for one of his toes. Tlisli remained quiet and just watched. Hours of being insulted by Azzesh had inured her to the sound of such criticism.

    Suddenly he lunged forward, and swung his spear at her like a stick, aiming to hit her in the side and knock her over. That was Azzesh’s favorite punishment for inattentiveness during training, and this warrior wasn’t as good at it as was the Tlazil. As he swung she carefully angled her sword to catch the haft of the spear at just the right angle, and cut it nearly through. What was left was no longer functional as a spear.

    He had his moment of surprise, and found himself too far forward. She got in one swing with her sword before he drew a long knife from his belt, but she only managed a cut–nothing disabling. Then he let out a war cry and turned to flee. Tlisli guessed he was calling to the remainder of the soldiers at the boat, and planning to to get them and return.

    But now he learned the error of his ways. He had assumed that Azzesh was dying, too far gone even to employ any form of healing herbs or magic. But he was wrong. He had given her long enough to find and use a healing amulet. She was still not at full strength, but she was far from dying. As he turned to flee, she brought up her sword and very nearly cut him in two.

    “Quick!” she said to Tlisli. “Get behind the crotch in that tree. His companions will be here in minutes. Keep an eye out for them trying to slip around, but I think they will abandon subtlety and come straight at us. We will gain the advantage with our arrows. I’ll check that these others are dead, though I believe they are.”

    “How many do you think there are?”

    “I would say about the same number again as we have already killed, but the advantage will be ours.”

    And so it proved. In fact, there were only four more warriors who came to investigate, and they should not have done so. They came carefully, but were unprepared for what they found. When the first two in site sprouted arrows, all fled, but only three were left to run back to the river.

    With a glance around at the bodies on the ground, Azzesh charged after them, and Tlisli followed. It was less than 40 meters to the river’s edge, where the boat was tied to a tree. The three fleeing warriors jumped into the boat while the one remaining warrior who was waiting there cut the rope with his knife. As he pushed away, both Azzesh and Tlisli loosed arrows. Then as Tlisli grabbed another arrow, Azzesh jumped into the water and grabbed the side of the boat. Her weight was substantial and the boat capsized, throwing the remaining warriors into the river where they were at a serious disadvantage over the amphibious Tlazil.

    Then all that was left was to collect the spoils of battle …

    [Previous episode]  [Next episode]

    * This is obviously a work of fiction. All places, persons, and even things are products of my imagination. Part of the Tlisli Series. Copyright © 2010 Henry E. Neufeld

  • Tlisli and the Tlazil II


    Tlisli* jumped up from lunch and reached for her backpack.  Azzesh had again provided an excellent meal, cooked quickly and yet tasty and well seasoned.  There was more meat than Tlisli would have preferred, but she would never think of mentioning that to Azzesh.

    The reason she had jumped up and reached for her backpack was that Azzesh had gotten up and was reaching for her own pack.  Tlisli had learned to respond quickly when Azzesh wanted something done, and one thing Azzesh never permitted was wasting time on the trail.  And while Azzesh was neither like the smothering discipline of her childhood, nor like the brutality of the grand-emperor’s people, she could make life uncomfortable.  Tlisli was convinced that she had been tripped several times, had stumbled into a couple of trees, and even fallen into a large thorn bush because she had managed to put the Tlazil in a bad mood.

    It was two days since her conversation with Azzesh regarding the sword she had found (see Tlisli and the Tlazil – I).  Azzesh hadn’t discussed it, nor had she said she was taking the sword, but she had stuffed it in her own pack, and Tlisli hadn’t objected.

    “What are you putting on your pack for?” asked Azzesh.

    “I thought we were leaving,” replied Tlisli, puzzled.

    “No.  It is now time for you to learn to use this sword of yours.”

    “Mine?” said Tlisli.  “I thought you said I didn’t deserve it.”

    “I don’t think you do, but the gods are more gracious than I.  They have given it to you.”

    “I found it,” said Tlisli looking down, and downcast at the same time.

    “The gods are gracious,” said Azzesh, “But they give gifts that require our efforts.  Do you think you found this sword on your own?  Do you think you survived on your own?  No!  The gods brought you here.  The gods let you find the sword.  The gods helped you survive.  That is surely the only reason I don’t eat you for dinner.”  Azzesh paused.  “Well, that, and the fact that you would be stringy and doubtless bland in flavor.  But with Nistl roots and seasoned with serriss, doubtless even you would be edible.”

    She held out the sword.  “Take it and prepare to defend yourself.”

    Azzesh immediately grabbed a stick that Tlisli hadn’t noticed and began to attack without any warning or instruction.  Tlisli tried to block her attacks, but she was largely unsuccessful.  It seemed that wherever she moved the sword, Azzesh’s stick was coming at her somewhere else.  She was being poked or hit every few seconds, though the blows were not that heavy.

    Suddenly Azzesh swung hard, and as had been the case nearly every time, Tlisli was trying to parry a blow somewhere else, one that never came.  She staggered back, startled by the pain.

    “What did you do that for?” Tlisli asked.

    “To motivate you.”

    “But that hurt!”  Tlisli was still rubbing her side.

    “And had I been swinging a sword, you would now be in two parts, quite ready for me to cook for dinner.”

    “I thought the main point of a sword was to attack the other person.”

    “And what did you expect to do to keep from getting chopped in half yourself?”

    “Use a shield.”

    “Shield?” asked Azzesh, looking around dramatically.  “What shield?”

    “Well, I imagine I would get one.”

    “And if someone tried to kill you before you got a shield?”

    “Well …”

    “No, small human.  You have to learn to defend yourself.  Your sword is designed for it.  Do you feel how light it is?”

    “I thought it was a bit light, but then what do I know?”

    “Wisdom at last!” exclaimed Azzesh.  “Exactly the right answer, no matter how depressing.  What do you know indeed?”

    “But why is the sword light?”  Tlisli was so used to being insulted that she hardly noticed.

    “It was built of a special metal.  I don’t know any craftsmen these days who know how to make it, but it is harder than our ordinary steel and lighter at the same time.”

    “So what does that mean about the sword.  I know it is easier to carry and to swing.”

    “True, but that is both a blessing and a curse.  You can wield it more quickly and with less strength, but then your blows may be less effective.  It is, in fact, intended for someone who plans to use it for defense as much or more than for attack.  There are other features such as the guard on the hilt that suggest the same thing.”

    With that, Azzesh swung the stick again, and hit Tlisli on the other side before she had even raised the sword.  By now she knew better than to complain and simply tried to get her sword into position as quickly as she could.t

    To be continued … next episode – Ambushed!

    [Previous episode]  [Next episode]


    *This is part of the continuing story of Tlisli. It is obviously a work of fiction, and anything that resembles anything in the real world is purely accidental.  I am finally resuming this series after more than a year’s break.  I am also trying to return to the original plan of short episodes.  (Return to Top)

  • Added the Christian Fantasy Review to Blogroll

    As I was very belatedly catching up with the Moderate Christian Blogroll, I added The Christian Fantasy Review. It looks so interesting I had to add it specifically to my blogroll here. Be sure to go check it out.

  • Jeremy Pierce on Christians and Sci-Fi or Fantasy

    Jeremy Pierce has a good piece on Christians who enjoy science fiction and fantasy. I particularly appreciated his clear statement that entertainment itself is a value, that we don’t only read fiction for some educational purpose or other, but that it can simply be relaxation and entertainment.

    He says:

    So you don’t need to think of fiction as revelation in any important sense to think that it provides an occasion for something that can be productive. It’s bad if it distracts from more important things, as is true of any kind of enjoyable activity. At the same time, a little rest and relaxation, especially if it engages aspects of our thinking that we don’t otherwise use, is part of being productive in the long run. . . .

    Go read the whole thing.

  • Review: The Golden Compass

    I hadn’t intended to watch this one because it didn’t sound all that interesting to me, and also because it didn’t sound like there was any reason for the controversy it has aroused amongst Christians.

    My wife, however, put it in our Netflix queue, and it duly showed up. She thought it would be something I’d want to watch, so watch it I did. On the first point, I would have to say it was more interesting than I expected. Let me note that I haven’t read the books, so I cannot compare the story as some have in their reviews. On the second, I see even less reason for this to be controversial than I did before I watched it.

    The movie features a very oppressive church like organization, known as the magisterium, and the young heroine goes against this with the aid of a bunch of magical creatures, witches, devices, and such. I find it mildly interesting that a movie that purportedly espouses atheism carries on its conflict with various magical (or supernatural) creatures and even includes a prophecy. Of course, that is simply a product of the genre.

    If I hadn’t been told that the author was an atheist, I would have imagined that the book was about a tyrannical church organization, and might have a broader lesson against organized religion generally. In fact, I think that is what most people will take from it. To go to the opposite extreme in terms of literary style, I would consider Atlas Shrugged, which many Christians enjoy despite a much more explicit and integral atheistic message.

    Thus I would simply take this as a fantasy movie and let philosophical debates fall where they may. As such I find it of about average interest. It is fun from time to time, but does not really leave one in doubt very often. The story line is good and the characters are generally interesting, but fall short of unique. The acting is again fine, but not great.

    It’s the sort of thing I would normally expect to put in my Netflix queue which costs me nothing extra to watch. Then I enjoy it quite a bit.

    In my view it’s good but not great. Numerical rating: 3

  • Tlisli: In the Forbidden Ground

    [This is a work of fiction, as should be obvious throughout. Nothing in it resembles anything else enough to be mistaken for reality, but just in case someone disagrees, if you think it represents something in real life, it doesn’t. This is the second installment in the Tlisli Series, and is continued from Tlisli’s Escape.]

    Crossing the stream was not difficult, though it had it’s own dangers, and after crawling out on the other side, Tlisli plunged into the jungle on the other side. She hoped that just crossing into the forbidden ground would discourage her pursuers. But it was not to be.

    After several minutes of pushing through jungle, she noticed the undergrowth getting thinner, and soon she came out in a clearing. The clearing was occupied by a small hill, and it looked to her like the jungle surrounded the hill, but only grass and small plants grew on the hill itself. To her left, less than 30 meters away, it looked like there had been a recent washout, a gully with mud banks cutting into the hill. What was now a small brook flowed at the bottom of it, and appeared to go toward the stream she had crossed several minutes before.

    Tlisli decided that she would be better off passing the hill in this newly opened path than by walking over. There was no cover at all at the top of the hill.

    (more…)

  • Tlisli’s Escape

    Tlisli waited tensely for the animal sounds around her to die down. It was some time before the jungle noises settled back to normal. She was pretty sure that someone else was disturbing the jungle-perhaps many someones.

    If there was one thing she could do well, however, it was being quiet. Soon her silent waiting was rewarded. She knew that at least two, and maybe three groups of people were pursuing her. And they were close, too close!

    Her choices were limited. She was about to enter the forbidden ground. It was clearly the intention of her pursuers that she have no choice–she’d either have to surrender or die in the forbidden ground.

    It wasn’t just the taboo. There were the tribesmen, carrying bows and arrows that were poison tipped. The local tribe of Tlazil was not terribly well equipped, nor were they particularly skilled, but they made up for that in numbers and ferocity. The townspeople claimed the taboo was due to some religious proclamation or another, but the tribesmen seemed to be the most effective enforcement.

    Tlisli thought for a few moments. It would be tough enough for her to evade the pursuing groups. Her father’s men might be stuffy, traditional, and otherwise annoying, but they knew their way around a jungle.

    It had been a foolish idea for her to run away. She should have known it wouldn’t work. For a moment she thought of surrendering. She was so tired. But the thought of surrender brought her back to the reason she was running.

    There had been the troops of the grand emperor, who had quickly overwhelmed the town’s defenses. Her father had long been an advocate of resistance to the Grand-Emperor. Yet when the troops entered the city, her father had gone to greet them.

    She wasn’t sure whether her father had been a traitor all along or whether he had just changed sides quickly. He had always been a bit indulgent with her. But her husband had remained cool toward the invaders. He wasn’t any sort of rebel: he just didn’t flatter them and butter them up. He had also remained indulgent with his wife.

    She, in turn, wasn’t able to hide her contempt, and had finally publicly confronted her father. It had been a minor issue, simply a matter of skirt length. Her father had told her she was not fit to appear in public dressed like that. She should have realized she needed to back down with the Grand Emperor’s governor-general watching. It was obvious now. But she had challenged her father and then called on her husband to back her up.

    She almost wished now that he had agreed to punish her for her insubordination. The Grand Empire’s laws merely required that she be whipped. But he had stood by her, still the sweet boy she had married only three months before and still in love.

    The governor decided to make an example of him. He was stripped naked, shackled just tightly enough to slow his movement adequately, and whipped through the city streets until he died.

    Her father had then whipped her like a child. But he had made a fatal mistake–he didn’t think she would defy him. She had cried pitifully and promised obedience. But she was only watching for her chance.

    It had come almost immediately. Her father put her in her own childhood room, from which she had discovered dozens of exits as a teenager. The escape had been trivial. Yet pursuit had been almost instant. Only many hunting trips with cousins and uncles prepared her to get this far.

    And now she faced the choice. Either she must surrender, or she must face certain death in the forbidden ground. Trying to run past her pursuers would be the equivalent of surrender.

    She hesitated only a moment. She ran slightly north and east, then plunged into the stream that marked the boundary.

    To be continued . . .

    [Next episode]

    From the Tlisli Series; Set in the Energion world. This particular entry was composed entirely on my Palm Centro.

  • The New Judge

    [Note: This is one of my attempts to tell either a different part of a Bible story, to tell the story from a different perspective, or to get a similar point across in a different way. I will quote the related scripture passage at the end. Besides the general fun of setting myself the assignment and trying to write it, I hope these stories will help someone think about the scriptural passage in new and creative ways. This is a work of fiction. All places, characters, and things are products of my imagination and any resemblance to anyone or anything real is purely accidental.]

    Carl, now Sir Carl, made a bit of a stir when he arrived in the tiny village of Felidol. He rode his horse right across the small bridge across the creek (or river, as the locals would have it) and through the gate in the wooden palisade that surrounded the town. Farmers in their fields looked up and then continued to stare as he went by on his white horse. He did indeed cut quite a figure with shining armor, a quite long sword at his side, and fine cloak over it all, and expensive boots on his feet.

    The villagers stared, but they were less impressed by his fine figure and equipment than they were frightened to see anyone like that here. The citizens of Felidol and the surrounding countryside didn’t like important people all that much. Important people wanted to get things done, and it always seemed that what they needed in order to get things done was the farmer’s money, food, and sometimes even their property.

    Carl was completely oblivious to all this. He waved at the villagers in a friendly way as he rode past. He didn’t want to seem aloof or unsociable. He didn’t seem to realize that with the way he was dressed and equipped, the villagers had a hard time seeing him as anything but aloof. They hoped he would be aloof, and thus wouldn’t get them involved in anything.

    On the other hand, he knew something they didn’t. In spite of his young age, and his knightly appearance, he was actually the new circuit judge, to be based in their village. Carl knew very well that he had gotten the appointment only because his father was one of the richest merchants in the city. He was fairly sure that his father had bought him this appointment for his 20th birthday, along with a knighthood. But that was alright with him, because he knew enough about the law to do the job, and he intended to do right by these people.

    ###

    Carl’s first day in the courthouse was a disappointment. There were a couple of weddings to formalize, something that went without ceremonies in these parts. The feasting and celebration would take place elsewhere. There were some documents to formalize, ones that required the seal of a king’s officer. Carl was the only king’s officer in many, many miles. But nobody came to petition him for anything. He couldn’t imagine that none of the small farmers in this area had any complaints against the more important landowners. He imagined that the townsfolk had complaints against farmers, and farmers against townsfolk. That was how he had heard things always were.

    (more…)