Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

3.0 Callira

"You've been there before?" The chancellor had accepted Callira's unplanned visit, although the guards had not wanted to admit her. She sat at a desk in her working room, enjoying a pipe of ergot.
"Several times, I have some students there, and I would like to address something with you before, if I may, a few things indeed."
"Proceed,"
"First, I hear of Cassioni protectorate forces in the hills." She got straight into it. "Must I be concerned?"
"I believe that was a routine training exercise." In a rare occasion, the chancellor broke the silence which followed her comment.
"I have also heard some rumours. And if we are speaking of the Golden Defenders then we have heard the same ones." her voice nonchalant and indifferent. Callira wished she could ascertain the chancellor's intentions.
"If they do exist, they are criminals, causing annoyance more than damage. I trust you do not fear them,dear foreign friend, " her pace of speaking increased very slightly, a sign she was getting annoyed.
"With leadership such as yours dear Chancellor, I certainly do not fear them, but I heard talk of them again."
"The dam has filled and is spilling over with stories."
"Well said, dear chancellor." Evarrlie spoke carefully, for she was not as adept at being calculating and cautious with her words as was the chancellor, who had been practicing at it since she had turned thirteen and had begun her training to become a legis.
"Until there is a problem, I would request that you do not contribute to the water so as to prevent it from becoming a flood."
"Of course. And the next thing..."
The chancellor flicked her hand, out of disinterest, as if this conversation bored her.
"The attack on the candle caravan...?" the linguist did her best to keep her face as smooth as a still pond of water.
"unfortunate, but villagers are poor, sometimes desperate, and perhaps they thought the caravan contained something other than candles." Not a single ripple. Evarrlie had heard of a decapitation by chariot among one of the villagers in the region of the Herb Hills. She figured this was the punishment that the chancellor had dealt out for the sacking of the caravan. But to her surprise, the chancellor broke the silence a second time,
"Do not concern yourself with such matters, you are our guest here, and you will remain that way. Let us discuss your provisions, do you require anything?" The chancellor's tone suggested that this discussion was resolved but Evarrlie was not finished with her line of enquiry.
""You must excuse my misunderstanding of things here, and my paranoia, for I know not what to think. I believe my fear is justified, you'll recall the circumstances of how we met." Callira blinked a few times to moisten her eyes, the ergot smoke starting to thicken in the small office connected to the reception room where they usually held their meetings. She considered using this to her advantage.
""Of course survivor, I absolutely have not forgotten the welcome you received, and you must not forget what I told you before: you are my guest. Those in Chevelles know this. Many in Angounesse know this also. but let us be real now. One would be wrong to assume that everyone likes a foreigner - I am certain that is also the case in your land." Not wanting to appear concerned or too interested, Callira became agreeable.
"Yes indeed, chancellor."
"The plans of others of your kind. Tainish and otherwise. They are not clear. And that is perhaps the reason for the rumours you have heard, especially about the strange rituals of your spirituality."
"Rumours?" Was she talking about the Wheatstones?
"Let us not talk of specifics, for I am already missing the camaraderie of which I have grown so fond." To shift the mood, the chancellor broke into a smile, and placed her hand over Evarrlie's, knowing that was a gesture of friendship. Knowing well of the lack of hand- washing that occurred in Cassion, Callira would have preferred to not touch the chancellor's hand, and not have it touch hers, but Evarrlie nonetheless gave the chancellor's hand a squeeze in return, despite the discomfort this cultural difference gave her. When she had first arrived she had been alarmed by the public hand holding she had observed: such an intimate act, and not one which should be done in public, but she soon realised that it meant they were friends who were going to the same place. A sign of friendship and closeness among the Cassioni. She gazed at the chancellor's ring, a Seraphinite the size of a blueberry, a jewel known for its defensive and protective properties.
"Please allow me to make one thing clear to you. In Chevelles, you are well-liked, highly regarded, and greatly appreciated here by many, but to assume that everyone feels the same way about you and your kind, or should feel the same way is a dangerous perspective to take. Please do not be upset." The linguist felt a tear running down her cheek, and said nothing. Though she felt distasteful in her false crying, the chancellor was speaking freely now. "We Cassioni cannot tell the difference between foreigners of different lands, with some exception, and you know of our history with the Gawans."
Callira had gotten her answer: the chancellor was skeptical and perhaps a little scared of the foreigners. Considering she was also open to them, this gave Callira a feeling of grave concern. She looked up again, and the chancellor did not notice the glint of a knowing smile on her face. But the Gentleman-in-waiting was looking at her, his lips stretched tight in a frown: he might have seen. She dropped her head and wiped her eyes once again.
"What is more, you are a spiritualist, and know you not that that in itself is rife with controversy, is divisive and to many, untrustworthy."
"Yes chancellor, correct as always," Never had the chancellor before been so open and so talkative.
"Of course I know you have the interest of others at heart where your teaching is concerned, I know this of you, having known you for a long time, how long has it been now? Several years already?" Callira stared at her friend, who suddenly appeared much older and wearier than herself. "Others have not my same privilege, even if they have attended your lessons, or even met you in the streets."
"Chancellor, you are too kind, but my fear is not unjustified."
The chancellor appeared to give in. "Perhaps you are right,"
She grasped her hands again. "Do not worry, your spirits will guide you, will they not?" For once she was being serious about Evarrlie's spirituality. Callira looked into the ruddy cheeks and warm eyes staring back into her own, noticing the crow's feet and rough skin around them: she did look older than her years. Callira pulled away her hand.
"From a humble teacher of languages, my soul is troubled by what I hear, but you, you see all, and if you say it is safe, then I believe you and I will return in three or four days. Callira thought she saw the chancellor's cheeks go pale,"Look after yourself dear survivor." "We have much to learn," she gave the ritual of Cassioni leave-taking and the chancellor and gentleman watched her leave the room.

She had decided the chancellor was not being entirely truthful, and felt validated in her wariness,if not her fear: the rumours she had heard, that they all heard, they were not rumours, they were truth. But if the danger was indeed real, she would have informed me I am certain. Was there benefit in her lying?
there was the possibility that the actual situation was far worse and developed than what even the chancellor knew about. She felt conflicted.

Callira had one quick stop to make before her departure, and guiltily planned to reassure the candle-maker that the rumors were simply rumors, to repeat what the chancellor had said: she did not want to stir fear in others until she had proof.
"She feels it was an unfortunate incident, resulting from the poverty of local peasants." Evarrlie shrugged.
"Those were no angry peasants on my caravan," Her brow wrinkled, a woman in disbelief.
"She partially denied the existence of the Golden Defenders and she ensured us foreigners of our safety,"
""She was nothing but reassuring. You have no need to worry." Evarrlie did not want to divulge the part of the conversation where the chancellor had said that not everyone can accept foreigners or that she also, had heard the rumours.
"Callira, something is going on and it is better we know of it than not. I am worried. My nephew is coming you remember, and I would prefer if he didn't if it is unsafe."

Callira stopped to rest and water her horse and eat a meal in the shade of a strand of cypress trees. A small group of protectorate passed her by, the most senior officer of them did a double take when she saw her, then stared at her with cold eyes.
"I've seen you before. In Chevelles, correct?"
"Likely, I have not yet had the pleasure," she used the honorific form. The officer gave a grunt and took a swig of water out of her gourd.
"Where are you going?"
"To see some of my students in a hamlet near Charroux, ma'am," she tried to be as polite as she could, but the officer only became more menacing, kicking up some dirt with her boot, which nearly landed on Callira.
"Students? But you are a foreigner," her voice full of scorn. "What in the world could you barbarism as you ate, be able to teach one of us Cassioni?" She glanced back to her group, who were all watching the interaction.
"I am a teacher of languages." but she used the wrong word for teacher, the one which others called you if they wanted to show respect to your profession. Tainish only had one word for teacher, but Cassioni had several.
"A teacher you say?" Callira realised her error. "I mean a teacher, ma'am." She switched to the correct word but it was too late. The officer called back to her group."Says she's a teacher! Apparently us Cassioni don't have good enough teachers! Only foreigners can teach properly- apparently!" They complained, jeered in return and at least one called out "go home fiend!" using the racial slur. The officer spat, right near Callira's feet.
"May the spirits guide us," she muttered.
"A spiritualist too!" The officer shouted out. "You are bad news! Affected our Cassioni with your ideas! A scourge in our land." She spat again.
"I advise against going towards Charroux. It is dangerous to travel the roads alone these days. Have you not heard the stories?"
"I must go to my students," she replied simply, knowing this woman was trying to intimidate her, show off in front of your friends. The lady shrugged, maybe the fun had gone,this one wasn't going to be able to be provoked. "I have warned you of the dangers, I have done my duty."
She turned on her heel, grunting out the orders to depart, and in moments they were on their way in the dust kicked up by the horses on the hot summer's afternoon.

Evening was falling when Callira reached the outskirts of Charroux and met the family of her students, the father and his two sons, one usually full of energy, the other serious and sombre, but both of them wide-eyed, the older one's with lightness and hope, and the other's with sadness and worry. They seemed relieved to see her and returned to the house quickly in the fading light. The older boy, ten years old, sang and skipped as they went, a song she had taught them at the last visit,"baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yes ma'am yes ma'am three bags full," and Callira might have joined in, but she was not in the mood, following the conversation with the chancellor, the protectorate officer, and the long journey. The boys' father seemed to have a look of concern, and when they arrived at their house, they all retired immediately. But Callira could not stop her thinking about everything.
The roads were deserted- why was that? The family seemed more subdued than usual- why was that? Was she simply just tired? Or had they heard the rumours too? Or worse? Were the Golden Defenders already here? What was the warning from the officer about? Was it a real warning or one given just to scare her?