Star Harbor Nights

In the month it took me to discharge the debt of my boastful wager to the Fisher, I learned something of the language and the customs of the ancestorless island on which I had found myself. It pained me to think that this should prove necessary... my initial plans had been to recover the sword of my ancestors and depart as soon as possible. The Roman language sufficed for getting simple directions from the locals, and the two most important personages I had yet encountered could converse in a civilized tongue.

Now, though, in the face of the earth spirit's challenge, I found myself facing the prospect of a lengthy and challenging stay. How to best bring about the birth of a child suitable to wield the blade, to whom the kami would be obligated to release it? I have always been a masterful manipulator, and a skilled diviner of the future's pathways... but the truth was I didn't like the odds laid out before me.

My mind wrapped in such weighty matters as I completed my daily meditations beneath a giant spreading tree. So attuned to my own thoughts was I that I did not consciously hear the approach of the riders, but the scent of horseflesh and unwashed barbarians roused me from my reverie. I made no outward sign of increased alertness, though, but merely tuned my consciousness outwards until I could hear the voices of those who had drawn near.

"...sort of a man is that?" one was asking the other as they came into my awareness.

"One of the fair folk of the woods, I'll be bound," the other replied.

"There's nothing fair about him... surely he's a devil," the first countered. "But either way, I think we've found the king's prize. Wake him."

"What? You wake him."

"Somebody had best wake me soon," I said, my eyes still closed. "Before this boorish conversation lulls me so fast asleep that I never wake up."

"Here now!" one of the men said.

"I told you he was a devil..."

"Gentlemen, let us be brief," I said, rising smoothly to my feet and opening my eyes. "What is your business with me?"

I could see now that the two men were seated on brown horses with Roman style tack. They were both armed with iron-shod lances, but their garb was far from uniform, being composed of piecemeal leather armor that had a scavenged look about it. One of them wore a battered mail shirt as well.

"The High King would have words with you," the mailed one said. Of the two, he possessed more of what could be termed an air of command, though it was more like one of misplaced arrogance. The two were appointed more like common brigands than the emissaries of a great monarch, but as the Leng proverb has styled it, "When in Xhun Pei..."

"Very well," I said quite graciously, minding the proverb. "You may bring him to me, then."

"The King does not come on your sufferance!"

"He may come at his convenience, then," I allowed.

"You will come with us!" the leader of the pair said.

I reflected a moment.

"Very well," I said. "I have nothing better to do... let's see what sort of a man this king of your is... he may somehow prove to be worth my time."

"I should run you through where you stand," the subordinate said.

"Proceed," I said, spreading my arms out wide and presenting my chest as a target. "Then, your High King can have words with my corpse."

"He's coming willingly," the other reminded his more impetuous friend.

The fools did not offer me the use of a horse, and though they sought to pacify me by setting what they no doubt considered to be a brutal pace, I had no trouble at all in keeping up with the ill-bred mounts. When the road was clear, I even went a little ahead, to the consternation of my "captors." My time with the Fisher had reminded me of the value of humility, and so as a large encampment of soldiers came into sight, I allowed myself to be meekly lead inside the picket.

Did I call it an encampment? It rivaled the largest settlement I had yet encountered in that unsettled land... a veritable city of tents near the base of broad, flat hill upon which an army of workers toiled. Large numbers of soldiers milled about the camp, some drinking or brawling and some merely lounging around. They didn't appear to be in any state of alert or readiness. Certainly they paid no attention to our arrival, until the riders began shouting, "We've found the one! Alert the king!"

The commotion drew a crowd, which the riders kept back by wheeling their horses, as if the attention wasn't exactly what they had wanted. In short order, a scowling man came forth, followed by a train of warriors. I knew on sight that he could be no other than the High King the men had spoken of, even if he didn't look like any sort of monarch which with I was acquainted, as he was the only one in the camp whose armor didn't consist of scavenged motley. Instead, he was dressed in black leather and a cape trimmed with rather miserable looking furs. An iron helm with curling protrusions like the turrets of a tower crowned his head.

"All hail Wortigernos, High King of the Britons," my chief escort bellowed out. The assembled crowd echoed its acclamation.

"It is customary to kneel in the face of one's superiors," the king said coldly when he stood face to face with me, looking down into the my eyes with his own dull orbs. In that instant, I learned much about the man, though I am certain he learned little of me. He was tall, even more so than usual for the barbarians.

"Yes, but I humbly forgive your lapse in manners," I said pleasantly, courteously giving the man the slightest nod of my head in deference to his position as ruler of the rabble. "You are clearly laboring under some great difficulty."

"Well, that is all about to change," he said, a devilish grin lighting up his dark features. "With your help."

"What may I do for you?" I asked.

"For a start, you can die."

"Your highness is truly observant... I can indeed. Sadly, I do not see how knowledge of this capability will do you any good."

"Now that's the thing," Wortigernos said. He pointed to a flat outcropping on the hill, atop which sat a mound of broken stone. "Up upon that hill I've determined to place the first tower for what will be my crowning fortress, but I've run into a few problems."

"Yes, well, you might consider clearing away all that rubble first," I observed. "That would simplify things immensely, one must imagine."

"That... rubble? That rubble is my tower," he said.

"I am a stranger unfamiliar with the architectural arts of your lands, but it seems the construction techniques which you have employed leave something to desire."

"Do not play the fool," Wortigernos said. "The best wrights and masons in the isles live and die at my command, and yet I cannot get a simple castle built. Three times they have built the tower only to have it crash down. My architects had no answer, so I asked my priest what it could mean, and he told me that it was not God's will that a castle be built there."

"Given the circumstances, that answer may have been the very heart of wisdom."

"Except one thing... I willed it to be otherwise," the king said. "So I sent the priest ahead to tell God as such, and found myself a different religion."

"How expeditious. And did this new religion provide you with a different answer?" I asked.

"Indeed," Wortigernos said quite amiably. "Or rather, this old religion. My derwyddi... are you familiar with the term? No? Well, they have informed me that the spirits are restless and can only be calmed by the sacrifice of a man with no mortal father."

"It surprises me that you found that answer any more satisfactory," I said. "For I hardly see how it does you any good. I did spend some period of time with an old one on a hill not so far from here, who claimed to have met such a being, though the man in question is said to have died some time ago. In truth, I would not know where to begin looking for one who would satisfy that requirement."

"Neither did I," Wortigernos said. "I am a simple but thorough man, and I attack my problems in a straightforward fashion. Thus, I had my men begin searching the area at hand and move outwards... and now, here you are."

"Indeed I am," I agreed. "Do you mean to suggest that I am the one you seek?"

"You look like the child of no mortal man I've met."

"I come from the land to the east, where my kind are not unknown," I said.

"Spare me your lies," the High King said. "I've met men of all the eastern lands before. I've fought barbarians of every tribe out of Germania, and there's enough children of the Romans left on this island even if they've abandoned the garrisons," the king sneered. "You're no man of the east, or of anywhere else.... if you have any sort of a father at all, he's not of this earth."

"It might interest you to know that the earth does not terminate at the boundaries of the Empire," I said mildly. "Regardless, I am not the one you need, and in truth, I doubt such a being exists. Were my blood to stain the stones and the tower still fell, your derwydds would likely tell you to seek out a bird with no shadow or a fire with no smoke... or a rabbit with no legs. They play you for a fool, highness, in sending you after that which they know you will not find, in order to eternally mask their own ignorance."

"Your words are brash... but there is truth to them," Wortigernos admitted. "If I find that they have lied to me, I swear I will not be taken in again... but there is only way to find out the truth. If they are right, I will have gained a tower, and if they are wrong, I will have lost nothing."

"That is certainly one way of looking at it," I said. "However, I would say that if you are wrong, you will have gained nothing... but if you are right, you will have lost much... or do you imagine a devil dies as easily as a priest?"

"You came along with my men easily enough, it seems."

"It pleased me to do so. It might please me to be less cooperative, if it does not seem to be in my interest to continue to be so."

"Then I guess we'll just find out how much of a devil you are," the king said, his hand moving towards the hilt of his sword.

"If you wish," I said calmly. "However, I might propose an easier solution. Allow me attend the matter of your errant tower... if I should fail, you will have lost nothing and may return to your original plan, if it should please you to try. If I succeed, you will have attained your goal at a considerably lower cost."

"You expect me to deal with a devil?" Wortigernos asked, his blue eyes--no longer so dull--locking with mine.

"I expect it would not be the first time," I responded. My voice stayed calm but I returned the gaze with fire and steel. We remained locked unblinking for so long that the king's retainers must have begun to fear he was bewitched. It was, in a strange way, a very primitive version of the mental battle which the greatest warriors of civilized lands use in order to avoid needless bloodshed. How the High King experienced it, I do not know... but finally, he threw back his head and laughed.

"A devil after my own heart," he said. "Very well, you have one day to work your dire arts. I will show you to the trouble spot."

"My liege," one of his men said, making bold to grab his arm. "Do not imperil yourself in his company. Send one of the workers..."

Wortigernos sent him sprawling with a casual backhand.

"The cowards called me a fool to my back when I went to deal with the Saecsens, but I rode into their camp alone and unarmed, and I rode back out a victor. Is it not so?"

"Aye, lord," the assemblage shouted as one.

"If I can deal with an army of such devils, I have nothing to fear from this one," the king proclaimed. He beckoned to me and began heading for the edge of the camp. The crowd parted, giving us a wide berth. "Tell me, devil, what do they call you among men?"

"If it should please you to address me as a man, then know that I am called Mei Lin," I replied.

"Mei Rin?" he said, with obvious uncertainty. He clearly possessed just enough awareness to know that he had said it incorrectly.

Now, I have often observed that among the men of the western races, there is a distinct inability to enunciate certain sounds correctly. Most common is the inability to properly form an "L", as in the second syllable of my name. Instead of pronouncing it as the majestic, fully blended letter that it should be, they tear it in two, rendering either one half of the sound or the other. Any attempt to correct this oversight is met with uncomprehending stares... followed by a disharmonious melding of the two dissonate sounds.

Nevertheless, as an ancient sage of Leng once stated, hope springs eternal, so I gently corrected the warlord.

"Meir Lin, then," he said with a lifting of his shoulders and a shake of his head that told me he'd expended exactly as much energy on the matter as he cared to.

Remembering the Fisher's advice on the subject of these barbarians and names, I decided it would suffice.