The Year of the Master Captain

By David Lee Short

n this, the second book of the Doan, having defeated the barbarian Kos, Alaya and her new husband must solidify her position as Elder of the five great houses, and forge a nation from the ashes of warfare. She faces opposition from within and from

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Lee Short
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005432904

David Lee Short

I was born at an early age (OK, age is just a number; mine is unlisted) in Kualakapuas, a Dayak village in Central Kalimantan on the island of Borneo. My parents were missionaries–McGregor Scotts by ancestry, Americans by birth. At the time, Kalimantan was ruled by the Netherlands and known to foreigners as the Netherlands East Indies. Shortly after my birth, a Japanese invasion appeared imminent; we all returned to the United States. We waited out World War II in Springfield, Missouri where my father wrote and edited for the Gospel Publishing House. After the war, we returned to Borneo and lived in the coastal city of Banjarmasin. The way back was long and hard; civilian transportation was still very limited, and while the Army Air Corps would fly us on a space-available basis, very little space was available. We waited 3 months in Adelaide, South Australia, and another 3 months on the island of Ambon in the Moluccas, or Spice Islands. By the grace of God, none of the Japanese munitions I collected from the Ambon beaches exploded. I did, however, develop a fondness for mangos that has never left me. After Borneo, we lived outside Manila, the Philippines, where my father helped build the Far East Broadcasting Company. My father never had a slow button, and after just more than a year, he collapsed from exhaustion. Our ship docked in Burbank, California on December 20–it snowed 6 inches just for our benefit. We didn’t own so much as a long-sleeved shirt.Although I wrote in school, fighting wars and raising babies caused me to set it aside for some years. While snowbound for a week at our Wisconsin home, I decided to write a short story to pass the time. A little more than 100,000 words later, the novel Pastime came to be. The noted author of spy novels, David Hagberg, mentored me for a while. His judgment, correct as always, was that Pastime was a mixed genre; it is Earth-bound science fiction but has whole chapters where no sci-fi takes place. Just to prove I had it in me, I wrote The Devil and Omorti’s Circle, an off-world novel that expands on some of the alien races introduced in Pastime, and has a few of its own. There are now four novels in that series and a spinoff. A Level-Three Correction is a short story that further develops two of the alien races of earlier works. I wrote it to see if I could write a piece that had no slow passages. I give it a B+, but you may judge for yourself. Alaya is a departure for me. Fantasy, rather than hard science fiction, it’s Swords and Sorcery without the sorcery. It too has sequels and a spinoff.I currently live 6200 feet up the side of Colorado’s Grand Mesa and love it.

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The Year of the Master Captain

The second book of the Doan

A Novel

By

David Lee Short

Copyright © 2015 David Lee Short

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-329-52226-8

This is a work of fiction. Any references to actual people, places or events are used in a fictionalized setting. Other names, places, characters and events are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, places or events is purely coincidental.

For Charlotte, who reads my mind as well as any ice bear.

Chapter 1

Doran Roogain, heir to Roogain House and presumed future Elder of the Five Houses of the Doan of the North suckled vigorously from the current Elder’s right breast. His six-month-old world was one of few demands. His food source was nearly always readily at hand, someone changed his undergarments instantly when they needed changing, and he was bounced, jiggled, tickled, and adored on a dozen laps, large and small. He had no way to know how vastly different the world belonging to those various laps was from pre-war days barely two years ago.

When the boy's feeding had stopped, and his eyes had begun to droop, Alaya Roogain kissed his forehead, and handed him to Pelzi. I'm late already, she sighed as she buttoned up her soft leather jerkin and ran a comb through her raven hair.

The young baker and self-appointed nanny took the boy with an air of practiced confidence. The Elder can never be late, M'lady, she said with a twinkle in her eye. Time starts when you arrive. Only those arriving after you are late.

If only you could convey that concept to Grizzard. She glanced around her father's apartment. It was hers now, of course, and she was expected to live there, but her room would eternally be that cozy spot down the great, arched, gray-stone hallway. The room with the window seat where she had grown up. The one with the secret staircase to the stables below that had saved her life. This was grander—three rooms and a bath—the arched stone ceilings higher, the tapestries heavier, but it still wasn't hers. And it lacked a window seat.

Grizzard's an old grouch, Pelzi grinned as she vanished into the very nursery where Alaya had spent her first years.

The old grouch stood beside open double doors leading to the great hall. He leaned heavily on a crutch to compensate for his missing right leg. Everyone is here, M'lady; nearly twenty minutes now. When he spoke his bushy, white beard moved up and down on his chest and the words sounded like gravel rolling in a barrel. His tone was stern, but his left eye, the one without the leather patch, twinkled.

That would be a good thing according to Pelzi, she said lightly.

While he had been everything from Stable Master to Captain of the Guard, Grizzard currently held no office, yet arguably had more power in the North than anyone save Alaya herself. He rolled his good eye, and announced to the room beyond the doors, The Lady Alaya Roogain.

As she entered, everyone in the large, gray-stone room stood to their feet. Even after two years as Elder, the formality and deference slightly embarrassed her. She had given up on her campaign to eradicate the term M'lady, and grudgingly accepted that she had earned the deference rather than inherited it. Sit, sit. It's a strategy session, not a conclave. Her footsteps echoed as she strode firmly to the carved oak chair Ondrik craftsmen had made, and Osin Ondrik had personally presented her as a wedding present.

Zahorik was the first to take his seat. As her husband, he sat to her right in a chair nearly as large and ornately carved as her own, also a wedding present. His unusual brown hair was brushed and hung free of its customary ponytail.

Indeed, it was not a conclave, the formal meeting of the heads of the five houses with its ancient rules and customs, but everyone was there nonetheless. In conclave, there would have been fifteen chairs, five sets of three, simple, identical, set in a perfect circle in the center of the room. One chair for the lord of the house, one for the lady of the house, if there was one, and the third for a trusted adviser. Except for the circle of chairs, the room would have been cleared of all furniture.

Today, seated in a loose circle were her uncle, Ulimari Balori and Aunt Annale, followed by the red-faced and corpulent widower, Qualo Litzau, then Thorle Gault and his new bride Chan, and lastly, the massive Osin Ondrik with his tiny wife, Hyra.

Grizzard tapped his way to his customary chair beside the great fireplace, and eased his aged frame into it. His grandson, Czak Roogain, who Alaya had appointed Captain of the Guard just under a year ago, nodded to the freedman, Belcher. The foreign giant ducked as he stepped through the doorway to his position in the corridor. Czak quietly followed, and Belcher closed the iron-bound, oak doors behind him.

We were never a powerful nation, Alaya said without preamble, but we were comfortable—admittedly, some more than others. This last brought a wry smile from Thorle Gault who Alaya had raised to nobility to fill the vacuum left by the traitorous nobles, Durava and Vendela Gault, and from Zahorik who grew up common despite his noble blood.

The Kos changed all that in the blink of an eye. They stole what they wanted, and burned most of the rest. We have won the war, but at great cost. We have licked our wounds, and for the most part rebuilt our houses, but we still struggle to feed our children. This meeting has exactly one item on its agenda; how to regain what was stolen from us. Anyone may speak—civilly, and in turn. Have we any ideas?

Osin spoke first, his words reverberating from his great chest. We required five hundred years to grow to where we were. It will not take that long to recover, but will it not happen overnight, nor this year. There are crops in the field, and a few pregnant cows captured from the Barbarians. I suspect we will not starve. Osin still resisted the term, Kos.

Alaya smiled thinly. Your girth is living testimony to your ability to find enough food. How much weight has Canla gained?

My servant is as slender as ever. Kind of you to inquire. Osin and Hyra Ondrik were never ones to worry about the state of commoners unless it impacted their own well-being. Alaya was learning that the other noblemen, including her own parents, were only slightly more compassionate.

Now that my tyrant doctor will once again allow me to ride, I have seen most of the North. I agree, we do not eat as well as we once did, but we all eat. The problem is wealth and trade goods. We were never good at making wealth, partly because we bartered amongst ourselves, and partly, I suspect, because our ancestors were so willing to help themselves to the wealth of others. If we are to rebuild in our lifetimes, we need to change that. She sat back and left the speech to hang out there unadorned.

After an awkward moment, Qualo Litzau said, Before we launch into theories about how we can make ourselves more like foreigners and less like people of the North, can we talk about the food supply?

Alaya raised an eyebrow, unaware of how much it made her look like her mother. It appears we are, Qualo; what's on your mind?

The cattle, for one thing. When do you plan to pass ownership back to the houses?

What would you do first if I did?

Enjoy my first good steak in nearly two years. There were chuckles around the room.

Would that not decrease the value of the cow as breeding stock?

More than one person in the room found it necessary to cough in the effort not to snicker.

I don't begrudge you your steak, Lord Qualo—the tanner would be pleased, as would the butcher and the chandler. I would love to trade for more cattle if anyone knows of a willing trading partner. I do not. As long as we are using every cow to produce calves and milk, I will continue to protect them from the butcher and the tanner. These cattle never belonged to a great house in the first place; they are the spoils of war.

But we have fewer mouths to feed, lots fewer.

We also have farms sitting empty, fields and pasture growing weeds and brush for the lack of a farmer to work them. The beef subject is closed.

Thorle Gault said, We still have five good ships, and Master Captain Solway seemed willing to trade; perhaps we should try him. His voice was soft—one needed to be highborn to speak strongly to the Elder, especially the Elder that had raised him to the ranks of nobility.

I agree, Thorle. Zahorik and I have talked about it. Trained sailors are in short supply this time of year. Most are busy fishing so their families can eat. We could, no doubt, put a ship or two on the water. It's autumn; we would have to be quick about it or risk winter storms. What do you offer in trade?

Our vineyards produced well this year. We will have wine to trade, but not until spring. If we plan to trade outside of the five houses, I will need to expand the vineyards. I would like rootstock for the white variety Solway gave us when we left Gailsport.

So, as Lord Osin observed, not this year.

The back and forth went on for an hour without producing anything new. Alaya was seriously considering closing the meeting, although the other nobles had traveled as much as a full day to attend. Her thoughts were interrupted by a single heavy knock on the doors.

She glanced around the circle; every face had the same curious look—it was not a conclave, but one does not lightly intrude on the Elder in conference with the heads of the great houses.

Come, she said in a voice loud enough to carry past the doors.

Belcher pushed the two heavy doors open with flare, and stood with one door at the end of each massive, tattooed arm. M'lady, Master Captain Dane Solway requests an audience. The phrasing was formal, sounding even more so because of his accent, but the broad grin said he was delighted to introduce a man from his past.

The wizened little sailor behind him barely came to mid-chest on the giant. He had snow-white hair and matching bushy beard. He was dressed better than Alaya had ever seen him in tights and a morning coat the color of Balori's famous red wines. He leaned lightly on a carved cane; his trademark pipe was nowhere in sight.

The entire room stood to their feet.

Alaya said, You must have read our minds, Master Captain; we were just discussing trade. Belcher, would you find a chair for Captain Solway?

Czak followed them into the hall carrying a chair.

Alaya wondered if they had kept the Master Captain waiting at the doors while they found a suitable chair.

Czak placed the chair directly across from Alaya, between the Litzau and Gault houses.

The old seaman eased himself into it. Discussing trade, are we. What do you need, and what do you offer in exchange? The pipe came out of his coat pocket, but he made no move to light it. He held the bowl and used the stem to punctuate his words.

Alaya leaned forward slightly. We are recovering nicely, but there are a few things that would speed the process along. We could use livestock of all kinds; good quality breeding stock. We were just trying to find a good source for trade goods. We are accustomed to trading amongst ourselves, but we have never developed anything commercial.

You have bears.

"You asked that once before, in Gailsport. I believe I told you no one owns an ice bear. A few of them choose to live with humans; nobody knows why. Those that do are very loyal friends; those that don't, think of humans as lunch. I speak from personal experience."

I have come to negotiate with the bears. If you would lend me Baldor to introduce me, I have a few things that might interest you. If I am successful, we can talk livestock.

Baldor. She pushed the thought hard enough to reach the stables below the great house. She could not remember a time when the large white bear had not been her friend and protector. She was used to his terse phrases.

Come. Tell captain yes.

I've asked Baldor to join us. I may be able to persuade him to be your guide in the mountains. What did you bring?

A barrel of the wine you were so fond of.

I doubt you sailed twenty days or so with just a barrel of your peculiar colorless wine in your hold.

The wine is a gift. If Baldor is willing to help me, we can begin to haggle, assuming you are so inclined.

Captain has many things in two ships. Still wants Zahorik.

Thank you for the wine; I was rather fond of the taste as I remember. While I think of it, do you remember Zahorik Roogain? He captained my ship when we last saw you.

You are toying with me. You know full well I offered him a large incentive if he would captain one of my ships. The offer still stands.

Zahorik is now my husband, and the father of my child.

Solway only smiled. I suppose that reduces my chances of tempting him away.

Zahorik spoke up for the first time since Solway's arrival. Your chances were poor the first time, Master Captain; they are exactly zero today.

Solway looked as though he had a response, but every eye turned to the open doorway now filled by a large, white, furry ice bear that padded into the hall as though wandering through the house was an everyday thing. Baldor went directly to the elderly man and slowly lowered himself to the floor. Does captain hear?

It was a legitimate question. Not everyone in the five houses could communicate with bears, and the ability of foreigners was largely untested. The Kos, Tak, could, but the three-way relationship between Tak, Alaya, and Baldor had been forged in the fires of great stress and might not be a good indicator. And Tak was dead, not that it mattered in this case.

Alaya turned in her seat, and said, Baldor has a legitimate concern. Not everyone can communicate with bears. If you cannot, you have no chance of gaining the respect and affection of a wild one. Baldor will try to speak into your mind. If you can hear him, simply think your response.

When want to go?

An odd expression crossed Solway's face. A day or two. Is that a yes?

Ask Alaya.

Chapter 2

The barrel of wine arrived later that day on a rented cart pulled by two strong young men from the fishing village—the North was still a long way from having oxen other than the two Balori had managed to save. The kitchen staff found a niche for the barrel in the buttery where it was cool, and drew a small glass for Alaya's approval.

She shared it with Zahorik; both agreed it was delicious and that Gault House should plant a vineyard of those grapes. Neither had a good plan for making it happen.

There was a feast of sorts in the great hall that evening. While no one had foreseen the Master Captain's arrival, a Balori archer had bagged a deer, dressed it and brought it with them strapped to Bakr, one of Balori's ice bears. The carcass had been trussed up and roasting in a stone-lined pit since early that morning. There were plenty of vegetables to go with the venison, and both the new white wine and Gault House's fortified dark red. Wise people drank the latter sparingly.

There were leftovers. Alaya visited the kitchen and left instructions that would have mystified the other four houses. The staff ate well, the men-at-arms ate well, and a reasonable amount left through the iron gate in the back wall and into the house village.

The next morning, Baldor said, Go now. Thor and Bakr too.

Alaya replied, After breakfast. They were eating at the time; Pelzi's famous hard rolls with butter and fruit preserves, and washed down with a variety of hot drinks—generically tea. Baldor would like to leave this morning. Apparently he has recruited Thor and Bakr as well. Are you good with that, Uli?

Ulimari Balori sat still and stroked his full white beard. At last he said, Thor says they will be back tonight. I have no problem with that.

She turned. Captain Solway, let me recommend you do this on the bear's schedule. They will already have talked to the wild bears; if there was no chance, they would say so. They are not given to explaining their choices.

When would they like to leave?

She smiled. They wanted to be on the road by now. I told them to wait until after breakfast.

The Master Captain Dabbed at a speck of jam on his mustache with one of Roogain House's new napkins, a gift from Gault House, and stood. Who all is coming?

Only captain.

It looks like you are the only one invited. I've been there, and it will make you uncomfortable, OK, it was enough to scare the pee out of me. Baldor will be responsible for your safety. I suspect the other two bears are there to reinforce that you are a guest, and not livestock. Thor is the largest tame bear in the North.

Where do I find the bears? After a moment, he said, Oh, that could be useful, and left the hall.

All the others had also seen the map of the house with directions to front door that Baldor had placed in Solway's mind.

*****

It was still morning; the three bears walked on a good road in the foothills. The captain rode bareback on Baldor. They came to a milestone half covered by a small pine. At its top, the number 16 was chiseled in block numerals. Below that, in more ornate script, the sign read, Roogain, with an arrow pointing back the way they had come. Below that was chiseled, Balori, with an arrow pointing on ahead. Soundlessly, they turned, abandoned the road, and started steeply upward through secondary growth of pine and oak.

After about an hour, the terrain had changed to a canopy of ancient pines that dimmed the late morning light. It was also noticeably cooler. Solway still sat on Baldor; Alaya had offered him her saddle, but Baldor had said no. She remembered he wouldn't let her ride when they had visited the wild bears at the start of the war. Saddles were, apparently, a concession tame bears made to humans.

Eventually, Baldor stopped at the base of a stone cliff. Boulders the size of a small house had tumbled from the face and now lay among the towering pines like the dim shapes of some disorderly village. Walk now.

The elderly man slid to the ground with a grace learned in ship's rigging.

Baldor waddled along the cliff face, working his way around boulders. And suddenly there were bears. Lots of them. They all continued on in silence a little way until they came to the mouth of a large cave.

Food, this one? There was no way for Solway to tell which bear had asked the question. The question sent a chill down his spine.

Valued foreigner, this one. Solway assumed that was Baldor.

Mind knows nothing of mountains.

This one walks the water.

Should stay there.

Needs a friend. Alaya sends.

On the water?

Baldor has walked water.

They were far enough into the cave that the light was dimming fast. They showed no sign of stopping. Without warning, Solway could see. It was no lighter, but he could see with perfect clarity. The perspective was not his own.

Other bears walk this water?

Not often.

Then who would go with this foreigner, to lonely water with no bears.

They walked on for several more feet.

I would. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

Baldor, Thor and Bakr waddled to the cave wall and sat heavily on the loose sand floor.

The wild bears formed a loose circle around a bear hardly more than half Baldor's size. They also sat or lay on the sand. A much larger bear left the circle and licked the smaller one's face with a broad, black tongue.

Not happy, little one?

Have walked mountains, not water.

I feed you.

Old man that walks water will feed me.

There was an uncomfortably long silence. Finally, the larger bear turned and walked to where Solway stood, dwarfed between Baldor and Thor.

Why want Aida? Only girl that one.

I did not ask for her; she volunteered. Is she a good girl?

Too good for humans.

I will be to her as Lady Alaya is to Baldor.

The smaller bear nudged her mother aside. I will be to old man as Baldor is to Alaya. I, too, helped her live. Old man not live forever. When die, I come back to cave, maybe.

Solway had no way of knowing he was hearing a discussion of nearly unheard of detail coming from bears. Neither did he understand the remark about helping Alaya live.

Mother and daughter exchanged face licks, and then Aida nudged the master captain back toward the mouth of the cave with a nose in his ribs.

Solway stepped aside, and stood in front of the mother. Thank you.

He was rewarded with a face lick that he took gracefully. Without another word he walked in the direction of the dim light. He noticed the point of view of the eyes guiding him had shifted and was now no higher than his own eyes.

As they approached the mouth of the cave, Aida said, Have name, old man that walks water?

I am Master Captain Dane Solway. Call me Dane.

Dane not hurt Alaya. It was a simple statement, but it carried a level of intensity that made it an order.

I have things she wants. In exchange, she gave me permission to meet you. You are worth more to me than anything I brought. I would never hurt her.

When the giant boulders were out of sight, Baldor stopped and lowered himself to the ground. Ride.

Aida nosed between Solway and the big bear, lowered herself to the ground and said, Ride.

Without hesitation the small man pulled himself onto her back. As they walked, his mind whirled so wildly he struggled to stay astride. By the time they had regained the road, Aida knew more about him than any other living creature, and he knew the Doan of the North, their history, culture and people in exhaustive detail. He now understood that all the bears, tame and wild, had held tightly to the last spark of life left in Alaya after she was wounded in combat. She clearly held a position among the ice bears not shared by anyone else. A position she herself did not fully grasp.

*****

Bears come, Lanto, Captain Rob Litzau's bonded bear, spoke into Rob's head.

Rob turned to Qualo Litzau at the table. Lanto says the bears are returning, M'Lord.

Thank you, Captain. Did he say how many?

Only 'bears come.'

Alaya stood, shifted her son to her right hip, and walked toward the doors. It's been a long day even for bears; they will go directly to the stables.

It was fully dark when the four bears and one human entered the stable yard beneath Roogain House. Captain Solway was surprised to see torchlight, and a gathering in the large open space outside the stalls.

At the sight of an unfamiliar bear, Alaya asked Baldor, Who do you have with you? It was aloud for the benefit of all,

A new voice said, Am Dane's Aida.

I know that name. Alaya answered.

Was born in that stall. She looked through the doors to one of the center stalls.

You were Bindie's cub! Wasn't Baldor your father?

Was.

Baldor, did you know?

All bears know hundred generations.

Good lords and ladies, allow me to present Aida who has chosen to walk with Master Captain Solway. She is Baldor's daughter; born here just before the war started, and left with her mother. She will always be welcome at Roogain House. I would hope at the other houses as well. Not all can hear, she said to Aida.

Other bears tired, speak tomorrow. She ambled toward her birth stall and, once there, began pushing straw into a sleeping pile.

Captain Solway, you must be exhausted. I have made my old room ready for you.

*****

The fishing village was a two hour walk to the north of Roogain House. It sat on an inlet; the land farther to the north was still part of Roogain for several miles until Balori land finally reached the sea. There was some forestry, but little else happened north of the village. The village was the world's gateway to the North, although few outsiders ever passed through it. Winter there could be brutal and the houses were appropriately sturdy structures of stone and timber, with slate roofs. The streets were cobbled with flattened beach stones.

Five ships, one from each house, were on cradles well above the high water line. Smaller fishing boats were drawn up on the stony beach.

Two sea-going ships were tied up at the substantial wharf; long hawsers looped over heavy bollards on the wharf. The ships were scarred from long use, but well maintained and tidy. Sailors had already furled and covered the sails, washed down the decks, and coiled loose ropes. Most had gone into the village in search of food or diversion. An unlucky few stayed with the ships. While they waited for the Master Captain, they played a game with a board and stones beside covered goods on the wharf.

At the first sight of bears, they jumped up and began uncovering the piles.

Alaya stopped nursing Doran, and focused her thoughts tightly on Baldor. Do you know how much the