A little shiver ran down Owen's spine. 'But that incident created this interest in your magick?'
Nathaniel slowly nodded. 'The Twilight People understand the truth of things. Ain't nothing like a woman doing for you to get a man back on his feet. Kids'll do that, too. You got any?'
'No.'
'Strong buck like you?'
'My wife is young. There will be time later.'
'I reckon there's truth there.' Nathaniel started working on another cartridge.' You'll get started when you're back to Norisle, when we's just an adventure writ in a book.'
'I didn't come for adventure.' Owen frowned. 'I came to do my duty.'
Nathaniel chuckled. 'And your wife, she didn't never suggest you getting rich out of this?'
Anger flashed through Owen. 'She loves me. She wants the best for me, and I for her. The Altashee might think love to be madness, but I don't. Have you ever loved anyone?'
'I think, on this subject, Captain Strake, we ain't gonna be sharing no more words. I didn't mean to offend you concerning your wife. Needle you maybe, but offend, no. You've made your choices, I've made mine. Ain't no good our jawing about them.'
'Agreed, and no offense taken.'
'Thing you have to remember, Captain Strake, is that this here is a brand-new world. What-all they think across the ocean don't matter a whit here. Norillian tradition works, sure, but in a known land.'
'Known land?'
Nathaniel smiled. 'Norillians been in Mystria for two hundred fifty years or thereabouts?'
'That's about right.'
'Now your family, your stepfather's family, they been around how long?'
'Since before the Invasion. Eight centuries.'
'And afore that there was the Remian Empire, then the Mohammadeans and the Haxians. A good long time.'
'Right.'
'So all them kingdoms and empires, they've done fought over the same land for a long time. They make up rules. They keep the peace when they want peace. They make war when they desire war. All because they have a tiny land and everyone wants it.'
Woods spread his arms. 'Mystria is a big land. Bigger than you could imagine. We're ten walks from the coast. The Mystrian continent is three hundred more walks westward. Maybe five hundred, just east to west, and that many north to south. Don't nobody know. Ain't nobody ever made it all the way. So all them rules what keep people content in a tiny plot of land, they don't mean spit. Them rules is as useless as a law telling the sun, 'Don't shine.''
'Then you think Mystria should become independent.'
Woods smiled. 'It's a notion. Keep things unspoiled, might be a good one.'
Owen frowned. 'You think people should be allowed to do what they want? No government? No authority?'
Woods tapped a finger to his temple. 'This land is for strong people. You have a right to what you can do, what you can produce. Bountiful land, too. Give me shot, powder, a firestone, and some traps, me and mine will make out good. What I can't build, I trade for. Don't need money or taxes or some Fire Warden or other telling me what I can or cannot do.'
'But what if a man comes along and decides to take what is yours? You're not suggesting that if you're not strong enough to hold it, he should have it.'
'Ain't no need for a man to come take mine. Lots of empty hereabouts. He can just move on a-piece and make his own place.'
'What if he's lazy? What if he doesn't want to move on? What if he decides to take a place from someone who is weaker than he is? What if he plunders and moves on?'
'I reckon he finds himself on the outside of a musket-ball.'
'And if the shooter has made a mistake and hits the wrong target?'
Nathaniel shrugged. 'Ain't saying things is perfect. It's just there ain't no government should come and take away everything you've worked for just on account of some voters decided they wanted it that way. Now you're gonna say that there's courts to deal with that. I'd allow as how you was right, if you could tell me a flash of gold might not influence a judge a time or three.'
Owen laughed. 'I will not argue that the current system is perfect, but at least it is a system. What you suggest is only a way that every man can die alone.'
'Mayhap you're right, Captain Strake.' Nathaniel shook his head. 'But I'm thinking that sometimes that wouldn't be a bad thing at all.'
Chapter Twenty-Three
May 15, 1763
Saint Luke
Bounty, Mystria
O wen slept in the long house alone, but close enough to the cook-fire and covered with a tanner pelt that he slept warm and comfortably. During the night he woke from two dreams in which he was talking to Bethany Frost. He couldn't remember the conversation, but in one of them they were walking hand in hand along the river near the Prince's wurmrest.
He wasn't certain what to make of that. He'd normally have dismissed the dream as meaningless. He'd told countless soldiers who'd suffered nightmares on the eve of battle that they meant nothing and predicted less. At the time he'd firmly believed that.
But all that was before he'd come to Mystria. Just the experience of the winding path pointed to more magick being alive in the world than he'd ever before imagined. Maybe it was just the land, with magick bubbling up like warm water from a spring. Maybe it was nothing at all, an illusion, but whenever he thought that, he recalled Kamiskwa's repairing the canoe and use of other magicks far more powerful than he'd been taught were possible.
He woke for the final time just after dawn and breakfasted on maize gruel. His hosts ground some maple sugar and mixed it into the gruel, turning the ordinary into a delight. The little girl sat next to him, eating as he did, smiling when he did, and giggling contentedly at nothing at all.
In the light of a cook-fire he wrote a letter to the Prince. He described the circumstances around the discovery of the journal and ring. He included his speculation that the circles represented phases of the moon. He added material on the background of Pierre Ilsavont, though found it difficult to code the name using A Continent's Calling.
Once that note had been completed, he wrote to the Frosts. He didn't want to alarm anyone so he stressed the amazing things he'd seen. He described the beauty of the falls and the friendliness of the Altashee. He refrained from mentioning much about magick. Given that the Frosts were members of Bishop Bumble's congregation, he wasn't certain how news that the Altashee could be so magickally powerful would go over. He thought Bethany would marvel at the fact, but others might not be so inclined.
He finished the note less because he was finished writing than that the village began to liven and he had to prepare to travel. He thanked Bethany for her help in obtaining the journals and pens, her father for A Continent's Calling, then folded and sealed the note. He addressed it to them and tucked it into the Ryngian journal.
As the three men packed, Owen discovered that Msitazi's family had worked through the night to prepare two gifts: a leather sheath for his musket and one for his pistol. Each had a long strap so he could carry the weapons across his chest, and a separate thong allowed him to bind the pistol to his belt so it wouldn't flap about while running.
Msitazi embraced Owen at the edge of the village, still proudly wearing the red coat. 'May your walks be effortless, and may more Ungarakii die to build your legend.'
Owen withdrew and gave him a salute. 'I shall sing the praises of Great Chief Msitazi of the Altashee to my
