barkley-col-blog

[barkley-col-blog]

Earthstar fanfic chap2

Here’s 1/2 ... 3/4(?) of chapter 2 that gets Ariat started on his journey - Still all pre-Book One

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Ariat was awake and quietly moving through the dark house. Every night, he put his work gloves down in a different place and it took some time feeling his way through the house in the morning to find them. Once he put his hands on them, he moved expertly to the front door avoiding stools and wall racks. His hand found the deadbolt and latch without fumbling. Passing the last house in dark square and stepping onto the dirt path he saw a strange shape emerge just ahead. It must be a person, he thought, but it wasn’t moving. It was crouched on the rock at the first fork in the road just a few feet ahead.

Ariat stopped. He wanted to speak first but didn’t know what to say.

Finally he managed, “Who goes there?”

“Ah, who goes there?” a boy’s voice responded uncertainly.

“I asked first, did I not?”

“I suppose. Well… are you Ariat?”

“Yes,” he answered without thinking.

“Oh, good,” the boy responded and started to move towards him. “I am Gorin Grenheld and I’ve been sent to meet you.”

“I don’t know you. Why have you been sent? By whom?”

“You don’t know the Grenhelds? You should, really. I’ve been sent by Lord Hubbard to escort you to his house. You should know my family.”

“Do you know me?”

“Yes, I know you.” Gorin stepped close enough for Ariat to see him. He was shorter than Ariat and broader in the shoulders. Ariat had seen him delivering vegetables to Backwater’s community cellar.

“I do know you. Your family works towards the Southwest. Very good land.”

“The best. And you are the politcian’s son. Now that we’re acquainted, let’s get on to Lord Hubbard, please.”

“But, I’m going to work.”

“Yes you’re the politician’s son. You’re helping to bring in the potato crop, you’re a good man.”

“Actually, that was my father’s idea. He has me doing it to help bring in votes from the farmers.” He hadn’t said that to anyone before even though everyone seemed to know.

“Well, who’s doing the work?”

“Me.”

“Like I said, good man. When I cut rails and posts for our whole fence in four days and then built the fence in another five, do you think I was having fun?”

Ariat felt as if he should know of this feat. “Not at all.”

“Of course not! My father told me to do it, so I did it. His idea, my work. Hauling potatoes? Your father’s idea, your work.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Well, today you’ve got more important business. I was told that you met Lord Hubbard yesterday and he has asked that you return first thing this morning.”

If Lord Hubbard had asked, Ari could not imagine refusing him. They started off, Ariat still clutching his work gloves in his hand. The sun rose in front of them. After a while, Ariat thought to ask, “Why are you here now? If Star G-- Lord Hubbard wants to see me, he could just send a note.”

Gorin stopped. As when they had met in the dark, he looked Ariat up and down. This time he took longer.

“Two nights past, Lord Hubbard came to my father. It wasn’t the first time, but it doesn’t happen often. My father knows the stars better than anyone in Backwater, except Star-Geezer himself. It’s why we are the most successful farming family on the best piece of land…they talked for a long time. They were too quiet for me to hear. When I though Star-Geezer had left I looked out a window to try and see him on the path home. You never know what you might catch him doing. Instead, he and my father were out in the gourds taking turns looking through my father’s seeing glass, still talking. In the morning, my father told me I was going to enter into Lord Hubbard’s service. Then yesterday, my first task came, I was to escort you to Lord Hubbard. Speaking of, let’s walk.”

Before considering, Ariat blurted, “But why you? No offense intended…wouldn’t Lord Hubbard want a lord’s son for a page or someone from a high family?”

“Do you know anyone in Backwater of high birth?” Gorin sounded annoyed but not offended.

They both knew there were no such citizens in Backwater. “Besides, I told you, I’m Gorin Grenheld. That’s an old name. My family came from the North just after the earthquake that formed the Powder. My father knows almost everything about the Powder River Valley and the stars. My grandmother knew even more. And I can read and write a little. And I can chart the stars.”

“You understand the stars?” Ariat was impressed. “My apologies. I really meant no offense.”

Ariat also knew that Gorin could easily wrestle him to the ground. Gorin had spent his life in hard labor and it looked as though his mother kept him amply fed for his work. Ariat could imagine Gorin pulling the plow across his families long black acres in place of steer or mules.

“It’s not your fault. You’re townfolk. Townfolk don’t think that farmers can know anything.” They continued in silence. The false dawn had peaked and the morning was getting dark again.

“Now I know better. Thank you Gorin Grenheld. I’d like to talk to your father about this valley someday. Truth be told, I’m happier hauling potatoes then listening in on councils with my own father droning on about a king’s will for Backwater. How could he know that?”

“Ha! Too true. I think the king would need a very clear map and a magnifying glass to find Backwater”

“So, do you want to be in Lord Hubbard’s service?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know, but,” he turned to Ariat smiling as he quickened his pace, “the sun is half-risen. Normally, I’m sweating, parched and I’ve burned through my breakfast with a long way until lunch. If my service requires leisurely walks through the countryside, I surely will not complain.”

When they arrived at Lord Hubbard’s, he was out in front of his house looking straight North through his seeing-glass. Ariat was going to comment on star-gazing in the daytime but when Lord Hubbard stood there was no good-humor in his face. When he spoke, he did not sound like the person Ariat had known before.

“What took you so long? The sun is risen.”

He was looking at Gorin.

“I left my house in full dark,” Gorin said in his defense.

They didn’t know they were late. Gorin had no excuse prepared.

“Why weren’t you in town overnight? The two of you should have leaving town in full dark.” Gorin had no reply to this. He squirmed under Hubbard’s gaze but he did not look away. Finally, Lord Hubbard grunted and turned his attention to Ariat.

“Do you have the coin?” His tone implied that he expected further disappointment.

Ariat was hesitant to speak of it in front of Gorin. He had told no one he possessed it, as promised. “Yes, always.”

Lord Hubbard’s body relaxed somewhat. “Get inside. Your mother is waiting.”

Ariat thought it was odd that Gorin’s mother would have traveled to Lord Hubbard’s, and not in their company. Entering, he was shocked to see his mother, Riad, emerge from the kitchen.

“Mother?” he croaked. She was wearing a large apron that must have belonged to Lord Hubbard. On either side of the kitchen door were shredded rose petals, stem cuttings from several different flowers, and curls of citrus peels.

“Ariat!” she was so happy to see him one wouldn’t suspect they had dined together the night before, and every night before that. Briskly, she went to Ariat and embraced and kissed him on the cheek. He was flushing when she turned to Gorin. “And Gorin Grenheld,” she took both his hands in hers and kissed him on the cheek, “I thank you greatly for accompanying my son. You are a wonderful boy. ”

Gorin looked unsteady on his feet. “Thank you. You’re welcome, m’lady, ma’am.”

She smiled at him prettily. Ariat remembered himself first.

“Mother, why are you here? Why not walk with us?”

Lord Hubbard answered, “I have need of your mother’s culinary skills and wisdom of plants. For safety reasons, it was prudent to have you travel separately. Sit.”

Ariat, Gorin, and Lord Hubbard sat at the small table where Ariat had had tea with his mother’s lemon. She brought them tea herself this time. From the small angle available to peer into the kitchen, Ariat could see her busy at work with diced food, knives, boiling pots and pans everywhere.

“Look at me boys,” Lord Hubbard began. “There are people coming to Backwater to harm Ariat. It is because of your father, but it is you they want to hurt, Ariat. Gorin, I’ve spoken to your father. He has agreed that you will assist me and, by extension, Ariat. He has agreed. You have not. Do you agree to help keep Ariat safe?”

“Can you tell me-”

“No I cannot. I’m sorry, you must know as little as possible. And you must make a decision. This situation involves Ariat, but it does not have to involve you. Again, will you agree to help keep Ariat safe?”

Gorin looked out of place under Lord Hubbard’s gaze. The situation was gravely serious, and a complete mystery. Ariat felt bad that Gorin wasn’t on his farm, working in the full sun and looking forward to lunch. When he spoke his voice was perfectly clear. “Yes, I will.”

“Do you swear it?”

Ariat felt his mother pause in the kitchen.

“I swear it.”

Based on Ariat’s limited knowledge of Lord Hubarrd, he thought it was time for the Lord to clap his hands and brighten saying, ‘Ha! Good!’ Instead, he nodded solemnly, continuing to look at the two boys until he sat back and closed his eyes in exhaustion. After a moment he said, with his eyes still closed, “And, if your mother is successful in helping me, I will also be able to assist in my way.”

Neither Ariat nor Gorin knew what to make of that. The room fell silent and they all listened to the sounds of Riad in the kitchen.

There was a knock at the door and Lord Hubbard’s eyes shot open.

“Well, this is certainly more company than I’ve had in a long time.” He peered through the window and took three long strides to the door. “It’s okay Riad. It’s Timothy Hall.” Ariat’s mother had come from the kitchen with a carving knife in one hand and a still steaming skillet in the other. She disappeared back into the kitchen. The door blocked the boys view of the conversation. It was brief. The door closed and the boys saw Tim Hall’s head through the window, bobbing back towards town at a jog.

“You two will spend the night.” He sounded grim. He looked down on them as if they were stars out of place.

“What about Artas?” Riad called.

“Tim and some other men will be with him tonight. We want the house to appear occupied. Gorin’s father will patrol the perimeter with some farmers who know the terrain. ”

“Will it be enough?”

After a pause, “Maybe they can protect him at the house. But the patrol is woefully inadequate. We need fifty times the eyes watching.”

“Oh, Artas. Oh, dear Artas,” Ariat could hear her muttering despondently in the kitchen. He had never heard her show so much love or concern for his father.

Before they could start in with questions, Lord Hubbard told them that he would be busy for the rest of the day. He set them to playing Moons and Suns on the biggest solar Ariat had ever seen. Four feet in diameter, Ariat and Gorin had to walk around the solar as they attempted to align four of their pieces in a row. Ariat lost games all afternoon, sometimes growing frustrated enough to forget that they were all in danger from unknown forces.

 The next morning, Ariat was woken by his mother. Hearing her voice telling him to wake up, took him back several years to when he was just a child. Once he started running chores for father, he needed to wake himself and be sure he had food for the day before leaving. When he opened his eyes, he was confused by his surroundings and the presence of Gorin, sitting awake on another cot in the room. Once he saw the concern on his mother’s face, everything came back to him.

“Mother, you look exhausted.”

“It‘s been a long night, but, Lord Hubbard and I have been successful. It’s time for you two to be up and speak with Lord Hubbard. I have tea and breakfast ready.” The two got themselves up and out to the small table. It was still dark, between dawns. Ariat didn’t know what was different about the darkness before the false dawn and that of the real, but he could always feel the difference. Lord Hubbard wasn’t at the table but as soon as Riad had set tea down in front of the boys they heard someone coming into the dining area.

“Good morning Ariat Termot and Gorin Grenheld,” said a voice not unlike Ariat’s. He turned around to see a boy whose appearance was also not similar to his own. The boy’s purple eyes most resembled Ari’s but his sandy hair and long narrow frame also made Ari think this might be some unknown relative.

“Good morning, young sir, and who might you be?”

“Well, I might be the Prince of Prostitutes, or King Quentin returned, or, I might be Lord Hubbard readied for a long journey.”

Gorin thought this was passing strange. Ariat’s mouth gaped for words, as he comprehended who stood before them. The smirk on his mother’s face told him the rest.

“Mother, you assisted Lord Hubbard in a shape-change?”

“Assisted?” Hubbard responded, “No, she was in charge of the task. I merely helped where I could. My name is Sarco. I was once, and for a long time, Lord Hubbard. In many ways I am the man I was this time yesterday; in just as many ways, I am Sarco, a boy who has never lived until today.”

“Gods,” Gorin finally managed to say.

Ariat began, “Mother, how can you - ” when there was a knock at the door.

Sarco said at once, “News at this hour cannot be good. Riad, you must answer the door, I should not be seen.” He moved away from the window and called in his Ariat-like voice. “Who calls at this hour?”

“It’s Tom again. I bring dark news,” they heard in response. Riad went to the door and allowed him into the doorway. “Ah, Riad, m’lady. I must speak with Lord Hubbard.”

“I’m afraid he’s indisposed this morning. You can tell me anything, I will relay it.”

“Well,” he looked nervous and when he saw Ariat come stand by his mother he grew even more nervous. “Well, m’lady, they did come. Just a few hours ago. We tried to hold them in the street but there were too many. They came in the windows and the back door, and over the neighbors’ rooftops shooting arrows into the house. We got a few, but none have lived long enough to tell us anything. M’lady, Riad,… they killed Artas.”

Ariat’s mother did not cry or rush to him.

She asked, “How is that possible?”

“He insisted on taking the front door. When they came through, he killed two right off with a pitch fork. He broke the neck of a third with naught but his hands and took the sword from him. He was at the door dueling back two men fighting for room when an archer began putting arrows in his back from the rear of the house. After that, they made short work of him.”

Ariat was gripping his mother’s arm tight.

[barkley-col-blog]

Earthstar fanfic chap 1 cont.

cont...  I’ll post a possible start to Earthstar Book One, Passage, in a few pieces. I only know of books three and four, but this starts with Ariat before he starts traveling and shows up in Soucy’s Book One. Hope you like it - let me know if you know the Earthstar series or remember other characters.

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When Ari got home his father was sitting at breakfast, eyes still puffy and hair still sticking out at odd angles from bed. He could hear his mother working in the family plot behind the house where she tended the smallest possible amount of vegetable and an award-winning flower garden. Riad’s roses were especially prized. They were the size of dinner plates brilliant purple, and blood-orange, a pure green that faded to lagoon blue in the center that she called dragon’s eye. She had roses so white that they lit the garden at night and hurt the eyes in direct sunlight. And she grew roses of every color that were no larger than chicken’s eggs; Backwater girls would pay two half pence just to put one in their hair, or on their dresses for special occasions. Also, they would get to talk to Ariat, awkwardly, when they came by. Artas saw him looking out the back window.

“I always tell her, you can’t eat flowers, woman! But you know, it makes her happy so we allow it, right my friend?” He looked to Ari as if his mother’s eccentricities were a burden they both shared.

“No father, you just want the oranges.”

Artas’ face darkened even as he bit into an orange, his favorite food that he finished every meal with. Riad kept a small grove of fruit trees so rare for Backwater they could not win awards, there was nothing with which to compare them. Long ago, she had convinced Artas that the roses were needed for good fruit. “Something about bees and pollination,” he would say dismissively for the rest of his life in order to explain his odd wife to company.

Artas returned comfortably to his politician-and-father voice. “You’re to go to Tom Smithson’s. He has work for you today. No time to wash-up and not much water besides. Best be on your way.” Tom Smithson was not particularly popular. When taxes went unpaid, Tom made housecalls on behalf of the government.

“You’ll have me act the public servant with the farmer’s in the morning and chase down debtors in the afternoon? Are you trying to win or lose this election?” He regretted his last words. Brough and Kemp would have laughed at such a comment, not Artas. He stood.

“Listen to me, boy. You don’t want to do the work of a man but you speak to me like one. I can still tan your hide and you are no one to be scoffing at a day’s work. Your mother… Tom’s work is necessary, important. Tom collects taxes, taxes go to our king, the king keeps us safe. Who cares if some piss-ant Backwater dirt farmer doesn’t like it? Too bad. Understand?”

Safe from what? He wanted to tell his father about Brough’s hilt-for-a-sword but thought better of it. He never should have provoked Artas in the first place.

“Yes, father,” was all he said.

“Good. Now go. I’m plenty busy without managing you.” As Ari slipped out the door, his father called after him, “And watch your damn mouth!”

 Ariat took his time walking from his house to downtown, which meant that he walked to the end of the street and took a left. Backwater was a single square of four long streets. One corner was occupied by the homes of those wealthy enough to live in town: merchants, politicians, smithies, millers, clothiers, and tax collectors; the other two streets held the few shops, government buildings and Backwater’s two alehouses, and third alehouse that was more than an alehouse. The house was often full but no one was ever seen entering or exiting from the street. The rear of the house had a high fence that blocked it from view of the town square. Everyone in town used the fountain for drinking and washing. Everyone in town pretended not to notice to looking fence in the northeast corner. Boys who punched holes in the fence to peer through one night would find their efforts patched and filled by the next day. Ariat was more interested in the square. There was nothing to see but some chickens, sheep, and a tall plain fountain with water running out four spigots in each of the cardinal directions. Ariat had been told that a knight’s tournament was once held on the square when King Adira II had passed through, or Adira III, or possibly King Onwe. The story changed, no one living had seen the tournament. It didn’t matter to Ariat, he could only imagine what armor looked like much less two knights in armor on plated horses charging at one another across this field occupied by calmly grazing sheep.

Ariat knocked softly on Tom’s door thinking that if Tom didn’t answer he could leave. Tom answered without delay, however, calling Ariat into the small, clean office. He had always been perfectly pleasant when Ariat reported for duty, likely because he was staying in to send letters of notice while Ariat did his legwork. And no one lived farther out of town than the man Ariat was sent to.

“The Star-Geezer?” Ariat exclaimed despite himself when Tom handed him the slip.

“Yes,” Tom said as if it was wholly uninteresting, “and his name is Lord Hubbard. He may be delinquent on the king’s tax but still wealthy. Close your mouth, you look like a fish and it’s making me hungry.”

“You expect me to collect his taxes?”

“The king’s taxes, son.” Tom always said ‘king’s taxes’. He said that people see his face when they think of losing money, the least they could do is not connect his name. It did not work. “I’m told the Star-G…Lord Hubbard is very genteel and perfectly hospitable. It’s just so far-” he trailed off and busied himself to end the conversation. Only as Ariat was walking out did Tom call, “Don’t come back without all of it!” and then start whistling to make it clear he was not expecting dialogue.

The day was hot and Ariat was soon sweating in his leather pants. Once out of sight of town, he took his boots off and walked in the sharp, dry grass grasses alongside the path. He had never wanted to leave Backwater, but he often dreamed of interesting people or things coming to him. For his whole, though, there was only one interesting person in the whole village and Ariat was now going to ask him to please pay up. As he slid his feet through the grass he remembered good reason to be even more embarrassed. He had heard a dozen stories about the night Star-Geezer appeared in town and saved Artas’ life. Artas never spoke of it, but nearly everyone else in town did. Ariat’s family came to Backwater before he could remember for a ‘political appointment’ as Artas called it. Last year, Ariat had finally thought to ask why Artas had to run elections for an appointment. He didn’t get an answer but he get told to start gardening for town council members, running errands for Tom Hill, carrying water to the town elderly, and helping farmers in the field. Appointed or elected made little difference. Artas’ affable nature, and willingness to change nothing in town life, had gained him fast friends in Backwater. One night at the Balehouse, or perhaps the Plowman depending on the telling, a stranger had gotten rough with Artas about his king-granted home and his “sweet wife.” By all accounts, Riad, was at home. After words were exchanged, a blade was drawn. The blade was between four inches and four feet long, the man was a dwarf or a giant and weighed between two and six stone. Everyone agrees though, Artas was a moment from death, the two men squared, Artas with no weapon but pleading words when a voice said blithely, “You should have come prepared assassin.” All eyes turned to the strangest of strangers at the door. A few say that he was wearing pants, and a robe, and leather armor, and a cloak, and a rain cover on the cloudless night; they say he had one gauntleted hand and had hooves for feet. Only Ariat believed such things, because he desperately wanted to think something so strange could have occurred in his own town. Most people say simply that he was wearing all the right things but still looked wrong. As Brough had put it, “He looked like a farmer who had never dirtied a hand.” From the doorframe the man who would become known as Star-Geezer spoke again, “It’s time to go.”

The assassin began, “I came prepared - ” but when he lifted his hand he wasn’t holding the blade. Star-Geezer was turning it over in his hands, studying it.

“Interesting markings…Well,” he said, looking up, “it appears you’ve brought a beer to a knife fight! Good sirs, I believe you all can handle this situation. I’ll be just beyond the hill if needed. Goodnight.” He passed back out the door and the crowd turned its angry attention to the now unarmed man who had just threatened their beloved councilman.

Thinking on these events for the hundredth time brought Ariat right to Star-Geezer’s squat cube home, all alone on the infertile side of Root Hill. Water never crested over the hill.

He put his boots back on quietly, took a moment to survey his surroundings and knocked on the door. Star-Geezer answered. He was taller than Ariat remembered from the few times he had seen him at a distance. He had also thought of him as being a gaunt old man but the Star-Geezer who answered the door was far more robust. His dark black hair was only touched by grey and he had trimmed it recently as well as his beard. He wore a loose tunic and riding breeches, though Ariat had neither seen nor smelled a horse. Despite his strong, youthful appearance there was no doubt he was Lord Hubbard, the Star-Geezer. His black eyes locked onto Ariat with bold shining white centers as if they reflected the lenses of his seeing glass. Ariat had to remind himself that he existed.

“I’m here for the…king’s taxes,” he heard himself say.

“The what? Come on, get inside now.” Ari stepped into the cool dark home. Most of it sat in shadow except for the reading table directly below the East facing window. “The what?” he repeated, now behind Ari.

“The king’s taxes!” Ari said louder, in case it was a hearing problem.

“The king? Is that what Tom is calling himself these days? Better not word of that get about, eh?” He chuckled to himself and turned a slow circle. “Well, it’s here anyway, the money. Come in to the table. I don’t live so close to town, I know. Would like something to drink?”

Ari meant to say ‘No’ but instead he said, “Yes please, tea would be nice,” then he remembered himself and added, “Ah, and where might the payment be?”

“Tea, splendid idea,” he disappeared around the corner into a kitchen. Ariat was getting ready to shout the question when Star-Geezer called, “It might be under the hill with your potatoes! It might be that I turn my coins into stars and every night I’m simply keeping an eye on my vast fortunes! Or, it might be behind the toilet.” He went silent after that, apparently listening for some reaction from Ariat. Then he stuck his head out from the kitchen, “Guess which.”

“It’s behind the toilet.”

“Clever, boy. It’s behind the toilet!”

“Will you-”

“No, I won’t. Go fetch Tom’s gold.”

Back outside and around the side of the house stood Lord Hubbard’s toilet shed. Ari pushed the door open with his toe and stepped into the space. Sure enough, one of the short panels in the wall, just below the toilet seat was a disguised wooden box set into the wall. Ari never would have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking for it.

Stopping outside of the outhouse for a quick minute, he opened the box. It was so heavy. He found it as full as possible with gold. One of the pieces would pay three year’s taxes. He thought about taking a small piece for himself but the cunning of Star-Geezer was not to be trusted. When he re-entered, Lord Hubbard was setting the tea down on the reading table.

“Did you find it?”

“Yes, I have it.”

“Good, good!” He sounded both relieved and proud of Ari for fetching something from his toilet. “Bring it here. Ah, this – no this one. Here’s is more than sufficient coin for Tom. So, did you take one for yourself?” his tone was purely curious without any accusation.

“No, of course not.”

“Why not? I have plenty. You could have taken one outside. I’d never know.”

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“Alright. So why not? Because stealing is wrong and these don’t belong to you?” He hefted the box so the coins chunked heavily inside.

Ari looked at him for a long time, sipping his tea, which had the right amount of leaves, hadn’t been over-boiled, and had some other pleasant taste Ari couldn’t quite place. “No,” he said finally. “Because I thought you’d know and you scare me a little.”

“Good. It’s good to be honest. A boy your age doesn’t know right from wrong, only fears getting in trouble. Stealing is wrong unless you want to impress your friends or a girl. Then, it’s just a prank, right?”

“Right.”

“Right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m a lord, actually.”

“Yes, m’lord.” They sipped their tea. Ari didn’t know what Lord Hubbard thought of him. At least he knew when his father was angry. As he was casting about for something to say, the tea bloomed in his mind and he thought aloud, “With all that money, why have you delayed paying the king’s taxes? Do you disapprove of the king?”

“No, not particularly. I just wanted to see you.”

“But it’s Tom who collects delinq- late payments. How did you know I would be sent here?

“You call me Star-Geezer in town, do you not?”

After their talk of theft, Ariat did not consider lying. “Yes, you are called by that name in town.”

“I like it. Well, I look at very far away objects with my seeing glasses. Some people who do what I do forget how to see what’s right in front of them but I see close-up things with great clarity and detail”

“Yes, m’lord.” Ari did not understand. “Why would you want to see me? You know me not. Is it about the election?”

“Politics don’t concern me. I want you to ask me a question, any question.”

“I’ve asked several, I hope I’ve not gone over my limit.”

“No,” he smiled. “We have talked and you have asked for clarification. But now I want you to ask a question.”            It seemed important. Ariat thought hard on a single question worthy of the time of astronomer Lord Hubbard but all he could think of was the question he’d always wanted to ask since the day he first heard of Star-Geezer.

“Is it true that you have mirrors on top of mountains that allow you to watch the galaxy of the Mezostar?”

“Do you think that I can look at suns?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come outside,” he said springing up. He snatched a seeing-glass from beside the door and hustled outside. By the time Ari had sipped his tea once more and walked outside, Star-Geezer had the tripod fixed to accommodate Ari and the seeing glass pointing directly at the sun.

“Come, look.”

“At the sun?”

“Yes, you wanted to see galaxies.” He hadn’t said that. He had simply been asking if Lord Hubbard had seen them. But he had never looked through a seeing glass before. Stepping up, he put his eye to the glass and felt it immediately start to burn. Vision went from red to black with all white stars searing his eyes.

“Gods!” he cried, reeling back.

“Do you see it? Do you see the galaxies? Ha!” Star-Geezer was beside himself laughing. He’s no sage, just a crazy old man. He and Ari calmed down from their respective hysterias.

Star-Geezer looked controlled when Ari asked, “Why did you do that?”

“You did that.”

“You told me to.”

“And, do you do everything you’re told?”

“I trusted you.”

“You can trust me. But you can’t trust any man, including myself, when he’s telling you to stare at the sun, juggle swords, or tie a rock to your belt for swimming. Besides, you asked me a question but I answered a better one.” ----- rubbed his eyes and couldn’t remember what his question had been. Star-Geezer continued, “Suns and stars are the same things except that you can look at stars. Men are lovers of light and we like to believe it brings truth, but you can learn much more by gazing into the darkness.” He watched Ariat for a quiet moment before clapping his hands and adding, “And there’s no such thing as star-gazing at mid-day! Ha!”

“I understand, m’lord.” He understood – this is what happens to unsuspecting tax collectors.

“No, you don’t but that takes time. Unfortunately, I must be off. I’d like to give you something for your troubles.”

“No thank you, m’ lord. I have what I came for.”

“Not yet,” and in his hand was a coin. It was gold on the outside, platinum in a middle ring and a clear stone was set in the center. He pressed it into Ari’s hand. It almost filled Ari’s palm, the largest coin he’d ever seen.

“This is too much. I mean it, I can’t have this”

“It’s yours.”

“It can’t be mine.”

“See?” Star-Geezer smiled broadly. “You are wiser than you know. It is not yours, but you will keep it, for now. You cannot spend it, and your possession of the coin will be our little secret. Yes? You will keep it and tell no one?”

“I will.” Ariat knew he spoke the truth.

“Excellent, young sir. Now hurry back to Tom, I have much to do.”

He disappeared through the front door, leaving the seeing-glass on the lawn. Ari stood for a moment gazing at the coin. As his eyes roamed over the inscribed gold he realized, lemon. The tea was flavored with lemon; his mother kept the only lemon tree in Backwater, probably in all of the Powder River Valley. He kept his hand on the coin in his pocket as he hurried back to town.

[barkley-col-blog]

Earthstar fanfic chap 1

I’ll post a possible start to Earthstar Book One, Passage, in a few pieces. I only know of books three and four, but this starts with Ariat before he starts traveling and shows up in Soucy’s Book One, segments. Hope you like it - let me know if you know the Earthstar series or remember other characters.

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Ariat was hauling potatoes... again. Every day for the past several weeks, Ariat had risen before the false dawn to join the poorer half of the village in the roots and greens harvest. His father, Artas, told him it was, “Good for a lad to get some work under his belt.” Ariat suspected work was one of the only things his father couldn’t fit under his belt, which sat well up over the crest of his stomach. The real reason Ariat was hauling potatoes in a wheelbarrow from the fields to the underground storage was that his father was up for re-election in four months and needed someone, other than himself, to ingratiate him to the farmers. Ariat had tried not to reveal that he was Artas’ son and he worked hard; most of those he worked with had forgiven him for being the son of a politician. Farmers never got much attention from the town council but they paid the king’s taxes and they voted. It all meant very little to Ariat except that he was sweating and sore while his father slept through the false dawn of the Mezostar and then the true dawn of Earthstar that followed. Every morning too, it meant that the volunteer guards of the root storage got to hassle Ariat.

He approached on his first trip in the dark, guided only by habit, the ruts between the planting rows and the torches that burned on either side of the hill’s small entrance.

“Who goes there?” Orville called, half-kidding.

“Your wife and your mistress, and we are both pissed!” Ariat called back.

“Ah, it’s Ari,” he heard Kemp say as they took shape in the gloom.

“Why do you bother to ask, Orville? If I were a criminal I would sneak up or lie. What would you do if you called out ‘Who goes there’ and heard in response, ‘The Black Bear’ or, ‘Wretched Richard’?”

“Well, I’d be sure glad I asked, Ari, so I could get myself good and locked behind this door and start my long dark potato feast.”

Ari had to laugh at that, even though it was probably true. There had always been two guards at the root storage for as long as anyone could remember.  But no one could remember anyone stealing a potato crop. First of all, the argument went, it would take days to accomplish and then the thieves would have to spend the rest of the year at markets haggling with old women who complain about the dirt, or the sprouts, or the colors, or hardness or softness.

As Orville himself had pointed out, “You would have to be as dumb as a farmer to steal vegetables.” Orville was a farmer. Kemp was a miller who, like all the common men, did his duty a few times per year and stood post at the root storage. Unlike Orville, who viewed his time standing post as a sort or vacation, Kemp was agitated and easily distracted, wishing he could be back at the mill glowering over the catwalk at his three apprentices who, according to him, were not worth one bag of flour altogether.

Ari noticed Orvilles’s sword hilt jiggling as he turned to unlock the cellar for the day.

“Orville, is that even a sword?”

“I think he’s got a pot handle in his belt,” laughed Kemp.

“It’s a sword,” Orville said light-heartedly. “It was anyway.” He pulled on the hilt to reveal just that, a hilt with a short wooden peg to keep it in its rough leather sheath. He could see the embarrassment on Ariat’s face. Embarrassment for their whole backwater village actually named Backwater because it sat at the northernmost point of the Powder River flood plains. Backwater only received good spring soakings every three to five years, unlike the more fertile but volatile lands to the south and east. “Ha! Don’t look so defeated, Ari. I’m defending the crop with this here sword. Where do you think I got the copper to patch your little wheelbarrow there? I bet you didn’t even notice, just thought that tools fix themselves.”

“Well -  ”

“Nothing to do with rust but snip it and patch it. As you can see, I’m fresh out of swords so don’t leave that thing on its wheels again overnight, you hear? Turn it over so it don’t collect rain.”

Now Ari was embarrassed at himself. Orville continued to harangue him as he walked behind with a torch down the slight slop into the hill. Ari didn’t need the light anymore, he could walk the hundred feet down, first left, through the empty dugouts, and duck through the second right to a cavern of nothing but potato heaps. The farmers of Backwater supplied root vegetables for a quarter of Coran. Throughout the year, different farmers were appointed to take to haul the community crop out to the north, south, east and west markets and return with fruits, meats and some small sum of money for the farmers’ work. At least once a year, a council would be called to argue that Tom Tem or Junior Widdings had cheated the village on the last trip. The councils never concluded anything. If someone were to take money, the only place to spend it would be at the alehouse, and that would be noticed. Most everyone worked fairly either from honesty, fear of reprisal, or not having use for the money other than ale and taxes. One year, Marcus Bohenus had purchased grapes for the whole village. Riding home on the cart he had eaten one after another until there was nothing left to do but eat them all and tell his fellow farmers there were none at market to be had. Half the town stood over him that night while he turned bright green, sweated through his clothes and vomited off of the cart. As soon as his diarrhea stopped, his punishment was to get back in the wagon and travel to all markets for a month.

Some farmers brought their children with them and these Ari would corner later to quiz about towns and cities. Had they seen knights? Had they seen proper ladies? What exotic beasts were for sale. The answers were uniformly disappointing.

“It’s not that kind of market, Ari,” they would say. “We buy food, sell vegetables. That’s it. The people are like us.”

“Just uglier,” the girls would add. At twelve, Ari was old enough to have their attention. He tried always to be proper and polite as his mother had taught him, but he wasn’t interested in anything that Backwater had to offer. He pestered his father to let him go to market but his father balked at the notion of him “riding in a turnip-cart! You’re a politician’s son, that’s below you.” Yet here he was, surrounded by potatoes, below the largest hill in Backwater dumping loads of vegetables. Apparently, before election season farm work became “Good for a boy your age. Put some meat on those bones” as Artas would unconsciously rub the sides of his stomach. Ariat’s mother, Riad, would continue looking out the East facing window as she nearly always did whether she was working the kitchen or garden, sewing or teaching Ariat to read in the den. It made sense to Ari, there wasn’t much to look at except for what was out the window.  But it seemed strange in nights when they would be sitting with a fire and Ari would see her looking to the dark East-facing window with nothing to see there.

He continued his course out to the pickers and back again as the false dawn flowed softly to the horizon’s edge and ebbed away again, leaving the world dark for the brief period before the Earthstar began its daily traverse across the sky. It was more commonly referred to as “Our Star” to the commoners who had no use of astronomy other than knowing the cycles of the moon and that the sun came every day to help plants grow, even when rain didn’t.

Ari was tired and ready to go home. He knew though, that once he was in the village with his mother and father, he would still have that feeling of needing to go home. However, he never knew where on earth might feel like home.