Through the Darkness

“That’s a fact,” his father said. “I’m cursed if I know what we can do about it, though. I couldn’t stay in school; I had to buckle down and make a living. And it worked out the same way for you.”

“And if anybody thinks I miss school, he’s daft,” Talsu said. “Still and all, if the Algarvians can speak classical Kaunian, there’s got to be something to it, wouldn’t you say? Otherwise, they wouldn’t have it in their schools.”

“Who knows what the redheads would do?” Traku said.

But Talsu wouldn’t be pushed off his ley line, not even by scorn for the Algarvians. “And they’re wrecking all the monuments from the Kaunian Empire, too,” he persisted. “They know classical Kaunian, and they don’t want us to know anything about the old days. What does that say to you?”

“Says we used to be on top, and they don’t want us knowing about it now that we’re on the bottom,” Traku answered.

Talsu nodded. “That’s what it says to me, too. And if they don’t want me to know it, seems like I ought to, doesn’t it? There’d be people in town who could teach me the old language without putting stripes on my back if I did a verb wrong, I bet.”

His father gave him an odd look. “I thought you were the one who just said he didn’t miss school.”

“It wouldn’t be school, exactly,” Talsu said. “You go to school because you have to, and they make you do things whether you want to or not. This would be different.”

“If you say so.” Traku sounded anything but convinced.

But Talsu answered, “I do say so. And do you know what else? I’d bet plenty I’m not the only one who thinks the same way, either.”

Traku went back to work on the cloak once more. No, keeping the past alive didn’t matter that much to him. It hadn’t mattered to Talsu, either, not till the Algarvian showed greater knowledge of an important part of that past than he had himself. And if other people in Skrunda felt the same way... Talsu didn’t know what would happen then. Finding out might be interesting.

As Krasta was in the habit of doing, she made her way through the Algarvian-occupied west wing of her mansion toward Colonel Lurcanio’s office. She ignored the admiring looks the redheads gave her as she walked past them. No: she didn’t ignore those looks, though she affected to. Had the clerks and soldiers not glanced up as she went past, she would have been offended.

Lurcanio’s new aide, Captain Gradasso, rose, bowed, and spoke in classical Kaunian: “My lady, I am sorry, but the colonel has given me specific orders to the effect that he is not to be disturbed.”

Krasta could be devious, especially where her own advantage was concerned. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” she replied in Valmieran. That wasn’t quite true, but Gradasso would have had a hard time proving it. Gradasso, for that matter, would have had a hard time understanding the modern language. Krasta strode past him and into Lurcanio’s office.

Her Algarvian lover stared up from the papers strewn across his desk. “I don’t care to see you right now,” he said. “Didn’t Gradasso tell you as much?”

“Who knows what Gradasso says?” Krasta replied. “The old language is more trouble than it’s worth, if anyone wants to know what I think.”

“Why would anyone want to know that?” Lurcanio sounded genuinely curious.

“Why don’t you care to see me now?” Intent on her own thoughts, Krasta paid no attention to his.

“Why?” Lurcanio echoed. “Because, my rather dear, I have been far too busy, and I will be for quite some time.”

“Doing what?” Krasta demanded. If it didn’t have to do with her, how could it possibly be important?

“Running enemies of my kingdom to earth,” Lurcanio answered; his tone reminded her why she feared him.

Still, she tossed her head, as if deliberately tossing aside the fear. “Why do you need to waste your time doing things like that?” she asked. “Valmiera is yours, after all. Don’t you have more important things to worry about?” Shouldn‘t you be worrying about me? was what she meant.

By the way Lurcanio raised an eyebrow, he understood her perfectly well. “My sweet, nothing in Valmiera is more important to me than the triumph of my kingdom,” he told her. “Nothing. Do you follow that, or shall I draw you a diagram?”

Krasta glared. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“No one requires you to do any such thing,” Lurcanio said. “If I do not please you, go find someone else, and I will do the same. It shouldn’t be that hard for either one of us.”

She kept on glaring, harder than ever. As no Valmieran lover had ever done, Lurcanio used indifference as shield and weapon both. He knew he could find another lover without much trouble; plenty of Valmieran women were looking to form connections with the occupiers. If Krasta went looking for another Algarvian, she would have to compete with all of them. Was she likely to find one as well placed as Lurcanio? She didn’t think so. Was she likely to find one as irksome? She doubted that, too, but it counted for less than the other.