97 [July 29] - Planning the all-out assault

As Esora-e came up to his room in the Independent after his grilling by the Committee, we ran into each other in a corridor, and both stood staring at each other. Is he angry? Is what we gained this morning lost again?

But a big meaty half-lax arm was thrown around my neck, and a second around his. “The two people I love most in this town,” said my shadow-grandfather, kissing both our brows through our forelocks; he’d been in the Committee with Esora-e, then walked him back up here afterwards, to lend his support. “I know it hasn’t been that long since last time, but you’ve just been spit-roasted about what sort of father you were by a passle of politicians, and your wife’s just left you—both fair excuses to get drunk, I think.”

We decided it would be just the three of us, and it would be in Esora-e’s room. A fair way into the evening, we got to talking about Krasila. I wondered whether Esora-e even remembered he’d written his letters, until he said, in the heavy way of a man who’s had numerous cups of wine, “I love calling you Papa. Back when I was… more… trivial-minded, I used to write… my thoughts… I always addressed them Dear Papa, and pretended I could send them to you.”

“Writing is trivial-minded?” I said, in the same heavy way.

“No, no, no, Ssshhevenga! Not if it’s war-manuals, as you’ve done, rather than the foolish narrating of one’s own life, as if anyone would care. Be easy.”

“You wrote letters… to me?” Tyirya asked heavily. “I want to read them. May I?”

“Krasila has them,” I said, while Esora-e sat staring at his father so stunned I thought he might actually be sobered up. “She keeps them very carefully.” His gaze turned to me, frozen, as if I’d thumped him with an invisible stick. “Shadow-father, I must confess… I read one of them.” I took advantage of his speechlessness by retelling it. It was my inebriation, I suppose, but neither of them seemed to find my blood-father’s attack of fumble-tongue in front of my blood-mother nearly as funny as I did.

“I’ll bet a full merchanter brigantine that Tennunga wasn’t good enough for her either,” said Tyirya.

“Actually, I got a lot of ‘You should be more like him,’ until she soured on him,” said Esora-e, somewhat recovered and returned to appropriate drunkenness. That’s where he got it, I thought.

“Soured… on him! Why?”

“He was too free-minded for her. And began to draw me away. Maybe she knew somehow where it would lead.”

“If you can’t or don’t want to get those letters back for me to see, I will understand, though I would be bitterly disappointed,” said Tyirya.

“She’d burn them, or the like, if I asked,” said Esora-e. “Just some trash she kept too long, you know… a child’s scribblings…”

“If you meant to send them to me, they are in effect mine.”

“But….!” His lips flapped for a bit, fish-like. “You exist. I didn’t think I was writing them to anyone who truly existed.”

“Esora-e… she denied me seeing you grow up. Seeing you take your first steps clinging to my fingers, carrying you when you cried, putting your first marya over your head, sending you out to play…” His eyes were suddenly full of tears. “All of it, gone. Except for your loving words sent out into the dark, not knowing if I even wanted you.” Esora-e’s eyes were suddenly full of tears too, and they stared at each other sobbing.

I was in command council then. A plan was required of me. The state of mind is more distinct when I’m drunk, and I feel inspiration more intensely. Probably I shouldn’t, but my life has become so much about revelation that I will reveal another military secret of the Arkan war. Three of my battle-plans, I won’t say which three, except that none of them was among the worst three, I conceived while stone drunk.

“I managed to get her to put me up once,” I said. “I could do it again, and this time steal them.”

“It breaks my heart that you couldn’t send them, that I never knew,” Tyirya wept.

“Father, you have me now,” Esora-e sobbed.

“I’ll kick down her door if I have to,” I said. Then came the sweet flash through my mind. “Shadow-father and grand-father, chen!” I still have the gift of command while I am drunk; they both straightened and faced me with full attention, cheeks soaked.

“You know the concept of the all-out assault? Throw everything at the enemy all at once? We’re going to do that.”

“What are you drunkenly blathering about, Fourth Ssshevenga?” Esora-e hissed.

“All three of us will go to her school.”

“Wha… who… why… bad idea… very very very very bad idea.”

“Shadow-father, for the love of All-Spirit, pay attention. I’m talking about how to get your papers back. Maybe the dear-Papa letters weren’t everything. Who knows what she has?”

I opened the stone-stove, sooted my finger and drew a fast map of her house on the table, sketching out our positions. I’d always found in war that a clear map helped the subordinates understand even simple assignments, especially if they were impaired at the time.

“I knock on her door. Esora-e, you’re here, you tell her you had to come visit just once before either you or she died. Tyirya, you’re here, and you say, ‘Krasila, I just wanted to say what I should have said years ago. I’m terribly, terribly sorry.’ And I, from here, say, ‘Shadow-grandma! Good to see you again!’ and throw my arms wide.”

Esora-e stared with open mouth again, but Tyirya started laughing. I had him, and he’d help bring Esora-e around.

“She’ll have to let us in,” I continued. “And once we’re in, Tyirya, you engage her in talk in the kitchen, here, while I say, ‘Esora-e, you’ve got to see this’ and we go into your old room here. You just pick up the box of papers—it was here, but if it isn’t still, I’ll spot it and point it out to you—and take it under your arm… and just keep it there. What’s she going to do, say ‘You can’t take that!’? Just have it under your arm the whole rest of the visit. If she asks us to stay for dinner, Tyirya and I will help her in the kitchen, while you hang onto the box.”

“She won’t know what to do, which way to turn,” snickered Tyirya.

“Of course not, exactly. That’s the whole idea of the all-out, to confuse, terrify and overwhelm.”

“I’m confused, terrified and overwhelmed,” said Esora-e.

“If she asks us to dinner… she’d be more likely to have a brain-burst right there on the spot!” said Tyirya.

“Maybe I’ll drop a broad hint, about how good her cooking was last time,” I said. “It was, actually.”

“But… but…” Esora-e was a gaffed fish again. “I don’t even want to...”

“I’m good to go tomorrow. We’ll double-wing the two of you, be there in a day and a half.”

My shadow-father finally found his will. “Fourth Chevenga Shae-Arano-e, you lunatic, NOOOOO!”

It’s when the troops quail that the commander must be strongest. I seized him by the shoulders, and put my nose almost against his. “You know... I’ve sparred her. And I’ve sparred you.” His eyes widened, and he tried to pull backwards and away. I tightened my grip. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” He swallowed twice, and shuddered. “Maybe I should ask you.... how do you think you’d do against her?”

“She’s my... mother. I... I shouldn’t even think that way.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, Esora-e, let’s just say… she’s never had the benefit of Azaila.”

“Oh.” He looked oddly crestfallen, to my surprise.

“Or any of the other best of the School of the Sword.”

“Or… Tennunga…” he said, shyly.

“Or Tennunga. Exactly.” I let go of him, seeing the shrinking of defeat. “So. Etesora 49th, we take off at dawn. Unless anyone has any prior commitments more pressing.”

“Nothing could be more pressing,” said Tyirya, and snapped off a salute with his cup-unencumbered hand. “A-e kras!”

“You… really… think… it’s important enough…”

“Shadow-father, are you kidding? There are probably all sorts of other salacious details about my parents!” Tyirya snorted with laughter, spilling wine down his shirt. “I want to read them all!”

“Maybe I’ll burn them myself,” Esora-e said.

“We have to get them out of her house to burn them, unless we’re going to burn down her house,” I said, “and that would be unlawful. So we still have to do this.”

“So you do want me up in one of those things, at my age,” Tyirya said.

“Shadow-grandfather, flying is the most wonderful thing in the world… you’ll love it. I’ll be the one who flies you.”

“No you won’t, Chevenga!” Esora-e snapped. “Your strictures… no piloting, that was one of them.” It’s a curse, when the troops catch you in error. Put it down to the wine.

“Strictures?” said Tyirya.

“So I’ll be double-winged myself; slight change, otherwise the same.” I had a feeling, though, that Esora-e would tell Tyirya all about my strictures while the three of us were preparing, since their rooms were next to each other. Perhaps while I was begging leave of the Committee for yet another trip.

That was next morning, and I tried not to look too hung over. The purpose they’d support, I knew; they’d heard a thing or two about healing extending back and forwards through generations, and so knew that if we managed to reconcile Krasila and Esora-e, it would be good for me. Of course Linasika was against it so it went six chalk, one charcoal. Leave of my loves was even easier, since only one remained, and the children were two fewer.

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