Stormcallers: Chapter 14

But now I must tell you of another meeting, that bound the fortunes of two great and terrible nations together. Yes, I say nations, for the Erwind Trade Conglomerate was as powerful as any kingdom, as strong and as prosperous; though it had no borders beyond oman, and no nobles beyond coin.

The Erwind Trade Conglomerate saw power in coin, and so they coveted their wealth and used it only to create more power for themselves, which they then used to collect more coin. Like the turning of the seasons, the Erwind Trade Conglomerate was an unending cycle that trapped men and women in its luscious snare.

It was this lust for power that brought them to the Cloud Commander of Herathia, Teschemar. The powerful merchants of Erwind thought he could be a useful tool, and so crafted many plans to bring him into their fold. An alliance, they hoped, would solidify their power over the cloud-sea. All they needed was to get him to agree.

To this end, a merchant of great wealth and power, Renedictine Gusborn, born of Erosea, begged to meet with Teschemar at his earliest convenience, with the promise of great prosperity for both himself and the Herathian Empire.

Teschemar was not unaccustomed to foreign nobles begging his ear in foolish pride, but he had spoken with his ally, the Commander of the Maps, who knew what lay in the depths of Erwind’s warehouses. Teschemar had plans that he had developed for years, and Erwind held the greatest supply of lift-gas in the entire cloud-sea, enough to allow Teschemar to achieve his secret goals.

To this end, Teschemar met with the Erwind Merchant-lord, though it was with a morbid scorn that he agreed to speak with Renedictine only during a hunting trip in the Herathian highlands.

The mists of Greater Norrholt were thick and wet on the day of their meeting. Teschemar’s fur cloak sagged around his neck, heavy with dew, while on his arm a broad saqur flexed its talons, wings quivering in the wind. Under Teschemar’s careful eye, the bird of prey jerked its head back and forth like this, smelling or perhaps listening to the wind. Somewhere nearby it knew there was prey. In moments, its master would take off its hood and it would launch into the air, searching the land below for a flicker of movement, a betrayal of camouflage that would summon the talons down like a thunderbolt, striking truer than any arrow.

Teschemar waited, delaying the moment as long as he could, for he adored this moment more than any other. Then, when he could bear it no longer, he lifted the hood from his bird’s head.

For only a moment the saqur blinked. Then, as Teschemar lifted his wrist, it spread its giant wings and launched itself into the air, flapping wildly as it gained in height, soaring off over the hills and grasses of the highlands.

Teschemar admired the soaring saqur until he heard a servant approach, his voice meek “Most honorable Cloud Commander? The Honored Renedictine Gusborn respectfully requests that you speak with him now.”

At hearing this, Teschemar sneered, like this. How predictably impatient these Eroseans were. Rather than devote themselves to a single act, they distracted themselves, trying to do multiple things at once like children. He toyed with the idea of once more refusing the merchant-lord’s request before saying: “If he wishes to speak, let him approach.”

Teschemar watched as the servant respectfully backed away before turning and running back to the other saquring group. Oh, how Renedictine had begged to join Teschemar on the hunt. How he had praised the gentlemanly art, and how fascinated he had been with the idea of hunting with birds instead of arrows or rifles. And oh, how utterly useless they had been!

Looking back at his own saqur as it glided across the sky, the Cloud Commander felt his heart ache. How wonderfully pure the bird was; its essential form built for the art of the hunt. For not the first time in his life, Teschemar envied the saqurs that made their nests high in the Herathian mountains, and hunted the hilly steppes.

Renedictine had no such eye for the bird, nor was he used to showing deference and respect in the manner of Herathia. The nobles of Erosea, Cast, and Orghasa all gave him the respect he was due, as he gave them. Teschemar, on the other hand, seemed to respect him not at all.

But Renedictine had a purpose, a plan for his meeting, and he would not leave without Teschemar’s support, so he bowed as his advisors had taught him, and spoke through breathless exerted gasps. “Honorable Cloud Commander Teschemar, it is truly a great honor to — what?” he paused as a flurry of whispers met his ear. “Ah, forgive me,” he spoke again, giving Teschemar all due honors: “Honorable Cloud Commander, Engine-master and leader of the Herathian fleet, keeper of the flame, and high master of industry. My, quite a lot of titles for one man, isn’t it? Yes. Well. It is a great honor, however many titles you have. The more I hear of your exploits, the more amazed I am. I know men twice your age who have not achieved half as much as you, honorable Cloud Commander.”

As Teschemar watched, his saqur banked sharply, catching a thermal and soaring even higher. A single flap of its wings took it above the encroaching mists and out over the fields. It was out of Teschemar’s sight, but still it would be seeing through the mists to the land below.

Renedictine saw none of this, and would not have cared if he had. “Quite an interesting sport. I am used to hunting with dogs and with rifles. I even went on a bear-hunting expedition in the Woyde once with nothing but a bow and arrow. Never tried hunting with birds before. A Remarkable idea.”

The people of Erosea, especially those of the Erwind Trade Conglomerate, were known for their honeyed-tongues, and Renedictine was and experienced negotiator; but never had he met a solider like Teschemar. The Cloud Commander was unimpressed with Renedictine’s condescending platitudes, and found great derision in his ostentatious dress. Renedictine was covered in gold and silver, bright colors covering his arms and legs. On his head squatted a flat cap of lace. All along the man’s waist lay a rainbow of jewels, and his ringed hands fluttered and flapped about like flags. It made Teschemar sick.

Renedictine bowed low, his hand extended and turning over itself like a loose strap in a strong wind. “Forgive me for wasting your valuable time. My name is Renedictine Gusborn, minister and chief officer of the Erwind Trade Conglomerate. I have a proposition of sorts that I hoped I could share with you.”

Teschemar did not answer the buffoon, because a black dart had broken through the mists and hurtled towards the earth like a meteor. Teschemar watched as his saqur spun through the air, spreading its wings at the last moment and cutting across the land like a scythe, only to vanish into the tall grasses. Over the sound of the wind cam a distant cry; a squeak of fear, pain, and the inevitable.

No sooner had Teschemar taken a single step, then his entire hunting party spun into motion, gathering the prey-poles and cages, their tools and baskets. The days lunch, already displayed and arranged for whenever Teschemar deigned to partake, was covered again and stood watch over by two hapless servants, while the rest prepared to hunt for the hunter in the grass. Teschemar was already marching down the hill, listening to the merchant-lord puff after him.

“You must know that we of the Erwind Trade Conglomerate have a great deal of investment in the future trade among the islands. We are ready, if not eager, to establish trade cities within the borders of the glorious Herathian empire.”

“Trade with nations is the purview of the Commander of the Maps. Commerce within the Empire is the Steward of the Roads’ domain. Speak plainly, Gusborn; why do you need me?”

And it was here that Teschemar knew of Renedictine’s shrewdness, for he coughed once and said: “In a word, honorable Commander, piracy.”

At hearing this, Teschemar stopped. For a moment, the steppes were silent save for the winds blowing through the grasses and brush. His scar, the scar that traced his neck down to his collarbone, began to itch.

Then, the faint ring of a tiny bell echoed across the plains. It was the bell tied to the leg of his hunting saqur, guiding its master to its kill. Teschemar began to walk again towards the sound.

“The truth is,” Renedictine continued as he followed, “while the Erwind Trade Conglomerate is the strongest trade company across the cloud-sea, and an unmatched economic force, we are not invincible. Smugglers, pirates, subversives of all kinds continue to make their presence known, and this harms our business interests. It is well known, I think, that King Rakhnagat of Madrain has encouraged his own fleet of privateers to take goods and cargo from our merchant vessels.”

The bell grew louder. Teschemar slipped his un-gloved hand into his pouch, and pulled out a piece of salted meat. He knew now the shape of Renedictine’s plea. “You seek an alliance.”

“Ah,” Renedictine’s smile was weak. “An alliance is a…very political term. We are not a kingdom, and I am not a king. Though our coffers are indeed larger than many kingdoms’, we are not interested in politics. We are interested in free trade. Even exchanges of value. We have supplies, funding, and new designs for even greater ships. What we need is your workers, your factories, your labor. Of course, we have our own, but there are a great number of costs in their operation. The workers of Erosea demand a standard of living quite above their station, and spend their coin on frivolities, demand luxuries, and are unwilling to work as hard or as dutifully as your servants. To expand as far as we plan is simply cost-prohibitive without a more efficient source of labor.”

Teschemar knew what the merchant-lord meant; he was talking about Herathia’s slaves. For this was the way of Herathia, that those who did not live in accordance with the Law were forced into their proper place: the lowest foundation upon which all the empire was built.

The bell rang once more, and Teschemar stepped over a small outcrop to see his saqur standing proudly over the warm corpse of a whapping-hare. The bird reached down to its leg, and pecked at the bell attached there, ringing its victory across the steppes.

Teschemar extended his hand, and the saqur hopped onto the thick leather glove. Cooing to his victor, Teschemar held out the salted meat to the bird’s fierce beak, where it was greedily snatched away. What was it, he wondered, that made the bird so eager to sacrifice a fresh kill for a scrap of dried meat? Why ring the bell when an entire meal was there for the taking? Surely it knew it would not receive a greater prize than what lay at its feet. Why continue with the charade? Why continue to call Teschemar its master, when the hunt was all its own?

With his ungloved hand, he plucked the hood from his belt and set it back on the birds head. Already his servants had arrived, and were fixing the hare to a pole. His saqur was gently removed from his glove and returned to one of the thick wicker cages to await another hunt. When the process was complete, he turned to Renedictine again. “What will Herathia gain in return?”

Renedictine smiled, for he thought he had snared the Herathian Commander in his web of commerce. “In return, Herathia gains an armada of military and economic might that upholds free trade between the islands with a firm and just hand. With my company’s fortune, and your Empire’s might, we could be a power without equal across the islands.”

But Teschemar was not caught. Renedictine had foolishly thought that if he dressed himself in shiny clothing and made a show of joining in a hunt, that this would be anything but a mockery of Herathian culture in Teschemar’s eyes. To even suggest Herathia could be gently sampled or tasted, and that was enough, revealed to Teschemar that he had no idea what being Herathian truly meant.

Teschemar turned to the wicker cages, and saw a pale feathered saqur that clawed eagerly at its perch. Even hooded, Teschemar could see the fire that burned in its belly. He pointed, like this. “That one,” he said, before turning back to Renedictine as the saqur was placed on his glove. “You seem to be under the foolish misapprehension that we are equals. Herathia could control the cloud-sea, patrol its shipping lanes and enforce blockades of trade and transport, but we chose not to. The time of imperial intervention has long since passed in Herathia.”

But clever Renedictine heard the bitterness buried in Teschemar’s tone, and his heart too cried out against the new world that loomed in the future. Shrewd and vile Renedictine knew then the words to finally trap his pray as clean as any saqur’s talons.

“Indeed, such time has passed, and the cloud-sea is worse for Herathia’s absence. Perfumes and furs from Erosea never reach Herathia’s shores. Orghasan spices, Aylinese silks, even the trade from the Archipelago of Lergos are at risk. Peasants and criminals are everywhere, corrupting the most perfect Law.”

Clever Renedictine, to say such words, for they touched Teschemar as few other words could. He turned to face the merchant-lord with a face full of fire, and demanded; “What do you know of the Law?”

In response, Renedictine said: “I know enough of the Law to not profane its words with my halting tongue, nor bastardize it with my peoples trade-language. I know it is not merely some ancient book like the Fellowship’s holy text, nor a bouquet of traditions like a festival or coming-of-age ceremony. It is the way of the world, the way it must be. Those who are strong protect those who are weak. Those who provide are rewarded, while those who befoul are punished. The world is shaped by those of strong will, who will find their proper place at the apex of society. Wendsha is finally under the banner of Herathia, and it will be better for it, but the cloud-sea is under no flag, no king. It is full to choking of those who do not deserve what they are given. Those who have not earned their place. The islands are foul with the mold and rot of such lawlessness. With your factories and our wealth, we can bring the Law to the lawless sea.”

And so, after careful thought and bargaining, the fateful deal was struck. The plans of both men were crafted, and the fate of the islands of the cloud-sea was sealed.