Vassals
“Lord Perez.” Ryan found himself impressed despite his negative opinion of the man. It reminded him of the need to be fair. “Welcome to your new land.”
Perez was eyeing the unfinished castle on the round hill. Even uncompleted, it was impressive, especially the approach defenses. Where the road climbed, the hill had been cut away, leaving near-vertical cliff, covered with smooth, tightly-fit building stone. In two places near the bottom towers stood watch from above. When the road came to a ridge snaking down from the hilltop, it tunneled through; gates framed both openings, and a tower massive enough to nearly be a small castle itself sat above, with lesser towers looking straight down on the road while battlements between them did the same. After that the road disappeared from view, but the beginning of that approach left no doubt in the beholder’s mind that further defenses waited ahead. Atop the hill, two cranes lifted more stone, piece by piece. Not that Perez could tell, but the complete structure, when finished, would have over twice the space Cavern Castle did – and that just what was aboveground!
Perez regarded the tall, slender, suave, almost pale figure before him. Lord Ryan, Baron Cavern, he’d been styled, and the lord from the Escobar Refuge didn’t quite know what to make of him. He wore no sword, but on each hip was an odd-looking device he assumed were weapons of some sort. A slender blade rested in a scabbard on the man’s saddle, as did one of Lord Rigel’s “rifles”.
Ryan noticed the direction of Perez’ gaze. “It’s the newest”, he commented. “Once you’re settled in, we’ll pass on some of the older models to you – on credit of course; they don’t come free.”
Perez knew the word “credit” as something merchants used, a way of getting goods now and paying later. He’d never liked it, but if it would get him some rifles, he would certainly make use of it! But the greater message in that simple statement sank home: this vassal of Earl FitzWin was so supremely confident in his power that he would part with “older model” rifles for people he had no reason to trust! On the way, he’d discussed with his advisors ideas for maintaining effective independence, but in one simple sentence this Lord Ryan had shattered that hope: he was a vassal, more surely that in Refuge.
“We may have need of them?” he asked, considering that perhaps there were dangers in these mountains he was ignorant of.
“You’ll be close enough to some of your Quistador relatives you could get spied on. If some lord up there wants to add you to his possessions, I’d like you tp be able to discourage him.”
Perez nodded. He would truly be a border lord, then, with actual neighbors. “But you have no worries while we are establishing ourselves?”
Ryan grinned at him. “Hardly – I’m bringing along fifty riflemen and a host of workers. Once repairs are finished so you have a place to live, ten rifles should be enough, though.” An item on his list waved for attention. “Something else – have you enough food for winter?”
“We may hunt?”
Ryan chuckled. “Of course. But in the winter here, the snow can reach a horse’s chest. If you’re going to hunt in the snow, I’ll have to send some of our Scouts to teach you to make snow feet.”
Perez mouthed the words, then brightened in understanding. “Like horse shoes, but for walking in the snow?” he asked.
“Walking on it”, Ryan corrected. “They strap onto your boots, and you walk on top of the snow. It’s slow, but a determined man can still hunt – if you can find the deer.”
Perez’ face fell. “Always deer....”
At that, Ryan flat out laughed. “For hunting, yet, though our Druid is changing that. But we have pigs, sheep, and rabbits, so meat doesn’t always mean deer. Just most of the time”, he conceded ruefully. “Concerning food, though – be very sure you have enough. When the snows get heavy, no one will be able to bring you more.”
“If I could even ask!” Perez understood now, or thought he did: he was to be isolated, stranded where for three months he wouldn’t be able to meet anyone or go anywhere. And Ramos.... The man couldn’t organize two pair of boots without guidance! It infuriated him, but he had to ask.
“Lord Swenson, if I may?” Ryan sensed something uneasy in the lord’s voice. He nodded. “My friend, Lord Ramos. He has counted on me to aid in setting things in order. Without me to guide him–“ Perez shrugged and looked away, embarrassed.
Ryan understood. He chose terms the man would understand. “Lord Perez, God gives different gifts to different men. It is no shame that one is able to find deer when no other can, but be so poor at skinning them that the pelt is rags before it was ever furs.” He drew a chuckle from Perez with that. “Nor is it any shame that one man is able to judge the amount of grain for a train of horses, while another might have to line up the horses and sit out the buckets by each.” The image was silly enough Perez actually laughed. “If God has given you the ability to organize an estancia” – Ryan found it interesting that the Quistadors had drifted to a strange form of
finca , fincado, while the Escobars used the word more familiar to him, estancia – “while not to your friend, there is no shame.” He shrugged. “My friend Rigel has a gift for traveling, commanding forces in new and strange places – I don’t. I have a gift for organizing a castle and all its villages to be prosperous and strong, which he can do about as well as a merchant’s wife could pound out a dagger in a smithy – she could do it, and use it to cut, but what man would want it seen in public?”
Perez found he was shaking his head, smiling at the images, in spite of himself won to this young lord, one who on sight he would have judged one whose pleasure is in other men. “I fear it is worse with Ramos, lord Ryan: he would endeavor to make a dagger, and ruin the hammer in the attempt.”
Ryan wondered how the man had been able to remain a lord – but the answer was obvious: Perez guided him, and so had the command of two houses. “I can’t allow that; lord Rigel would be upset. So – you’ve seen the towers along the way, with the big arms on them?” The Escobar lord nodded. “We use them to send messages. One of the teams that builds them is at Cavern Hold right now. I’ll send for them – they should catch up before we reach your castle.” He was picturing the lay of the land, elevations and contours.... “The tower will have to be extra tall, but we can build one near your castle – about a half hour away, in this weather. Then I’ll send a scout with the team to where they can put a second tower, one near Lord Ramos’ castle. You’ll be able to send messages that way.” It meant building those towers ahead of schedule, but it would work. Maybe if he cloned the team....
Perez was shaking his head. “It would not be enough, lord Ryan. He...” Perez sighed. “I know not how to explain.”
“He worries if he can’t actually talk to you?” Ryan guessed. “Well there’s no way to build a road up there fast enough, and we need his castle ready by spring when the rest of his people come. If– doesn’t he have anyone who could manage things for him?”
“Oh yes, he does. But he is never as confident in him as in me.”
“Well, how about we get him started, then you have him as a guest, and he stays there for the winter? He can get reports by the towers, and you can reassure him things are – well, as well as they are”, Ryan concluded with a shrug. “And build up his confidence in his steward or whatever.” He heard the rumble of the semaphore arms and looked up at the tower. “R - a - m - o - s final approach”, he read out loud. “At his pace, he’s a day behind you. I’m going to guess he’ll feel better about things if he sees your place organized and busy?”
“A great deal”, Perez answered. He looked up as the semaphore rumbled again.
“Workers – back – way – P - e - r - e - z castle”, Ryan read. “That will be the work force to help. They have some very skilled stone workers among them, who will help decide what can be repaired and what can’t. Don’t worry, though; I’ve been to the castle and it’s mostly sound.” Memory stirred and he turned. “Daly – the throwers are packed well?”
“Yes, sir. Twenty hours of fuel.”
“More than enough. Lord Perez, are you familiar with an animal we call ‘demon spider’?” Ryan gave a description.
“They were exterminated in Refuge three Heirs ago. They are still here?” The thought unsettled the Escobar lord’s stomach.
“Too many. But we have a little weapon we built just for them – it makes a stream of fire, and the fire sticks to them. We still wear armor going after them, though. We’ll unpack Day’s wagon first, and have your castle cleared in two hours.”
“That is good to know. But what if they return?”
“You mean if new ones move in? Once you’re living there you won’t want to use a flamethrower. I’ll ask Mother Ocean what she knows – I think she supplies something that goes in the lamp oil. I know the servants carry extra torches just in case they find some, and sweep down all webs. But it shouldn’t be too much of a worry – you’ll have glass windows, thick ones. It’s ready by the wagon load.
“But time to start moving ourselves; it would be good to get there before the supplies.”
“We are not the first?” Lord Perez observed, making it a question. They’d just topped out after a long climb. Ahead, a vast wooden structure spanned a canyon, the beginnings of a great bridge to save over four kilometers of switchbacks on the final approach to the castle. The final bridge would be stone, not wood; this structure served for the moment for travelers, but its main purpose was to serve as a platform from which the real bridge could be built.
“No. I had this started the day I heard you were coming”, Ryan answered. “Let me – oh, here’s someone now.”
“Lord, you wish to know the strength of the bridge”, declared the man, identified by badge as a journeyman Engineer. “Leave three lengths between horses. The wagons cannot pass – the middle isn’t braced that well yet.” He pointed to their left, where a corral between a barn and a long shed held about two dozen horses. “The shed has carts. The Engineer on duty there will supervise repacking, then your materials can cross in carts. The horses there are trained for it.”
Perez looked sour. “A moment, Lord Ryan”, he begged, then rode back to the largest wagon. After a few words with the crew on it, he came back. “I’d like that load to go first”, he told Ryan. He eyed the bridge, over two hundred fifty meters long and barely wide enough for one horse to pass another. “Your engineers” – he said the word carefully; it wasn’t what the Escobar variant of Spanish used – “make their work strong?”
Ryan grinned at him. “I’ll lead”, he said in reply. Two clicks of his tongue sent Equisetum trotting toward the structure, then onto it. Accustomed to following Ryan, the rest of Perez’ people started; their lord was left with no real choice but to follow Ryan.
Rigel’s newest vassal was impressed by the castle, and said so. The damage from fire and storm had been cleaned up, the stone salvaged or destined for road fill. There was more than enough room for all the people Perez had brought.
When they finished the tour, a retainer –
page? Ryan wondered – showed Lord Perez to what had been chosen as his room. Servants were busy setting up an elegant four-poster bed. Ryan’s caustic comment was cut off when Perez spoke first. “I know, it is a luxury. But I am irritable from travel and sleeping on the ground, and I am ready to break heads. A few nights in my own bed, and I shall be easier to live with.” Noticing his lord was looking away, one of the servants gave Ryan a vigorous nod.
“I think I understand”, he responded. “Many of us have things that help keep us human.” Stepping over to the bed, he looked up. “Clear night – going to be cold. I wonder.... Perez, do you have a roof planned?”
Perez looked to the servants, who shrugged, then to the page, who shook his head, but answered, “We thought to put up our lord’s tent, but this space is too small.”
Ryan nodded, and turned; there was Dallaen, practically his shadow. “There’s canvas in the third wagon. Get it here. Find carpenters – we’ll make a wooden tent frame.”
Dallaen looked up. “If rain or snow comes, it will fall around the edges. There is canvas enough; I can have a tent roof made for above.”
“Do it”, Ryan agreed. He turned back to Perez. “I suggest we find and bring our own firewood – the servants and others have enough to do to set up, in a strange place.” He thought for a moment Perez was going to snap at him, but the man relaxed and nodded. “Like being a boy again”, he commented. “I will sleep better.”
Settling in to everyone’s satisfaction took three days. By the end of the first, actual wooden roofs had gone in over the sections Perez and his people had chosen. The roof for the Great Hall had already been framed and the roofing begun; Ryan and his riflemen joined in to complete it – they would be using it as their barracks for a while. By the end of the second day, glass was in every room they were using; crews then began to work on the halls between those rooms and the towers above and below them. Before the third day was finished, the castle kitchen was functioning, so that day ended with a formal dinner in the Great Hall. At that event, Ryan unrolled a scroll naming Manuel Enrico Stefano Perez commanded and holder of the castle and its lands, to be named as he pleased, said commander and holder to be confirmed as lord at such time as he could present himself to his overlord, Rigel FitzWin.
Lord Juan Martin Carlos Ramos rode in the third day, so he was at least present in time for the award of the estate. But his party was in a shambles; the best part of a day was wasted reorganizing his people while Lord Perez took his friend around to see, quite literally, everything. But under the watchful eye of Daryl and Kamef, leftenants commanding the Eight and Ninth squads, respectively, a tidy camp grew up in the lee of the castle. At the same time, Ramos’ things were arranged in a room two doors from Perez.
“Where is my castle?” asked Lord Ramos after breakfast the next day. Ryan had been prepared for that; he led the way to a new tower and up to the top. There sat a telescope, already aimed.
“Look through it, but don’t touch”, he instructed.
Ramos joined his hands behind his back and bent. After a moment, an “Ooh!” escaped him. He looked for several seconds, then moved his head enough to look without the telescope. “It is that mountain!” he exclaimed. “This makes it near!” He looked accusingly at Ryan. “But I see no castle.”
“You can’t from here, not quite”, Ryan admitted. “But you can see that mountain from your castle – a lot closer, though. We’re looking across at it; from your castle, you’ll be looking up. Your lands are at the bottom, on am area of flat land with cliffs around two sides.”
“How long from here to there?” asked Perez quietly.
“Eleven days, right now. I know, that’s a long time at this time of year. But coming here and then there is the easiest way we’ve got.”
For now , Ryan told himself.
Eagle eyes regarded Ryan. “Do I hear an expectation that this may change?” Perez inquired.
Ryan inclined his head. “Maybe I should be careful around you, don Manuel. Your ears are sharp.” Ryan looked out over the mountains again, getting his bearings. When he’d found his landmarks, he pointed. “That way lies my castle, Cavern Hold. Between it and valleys leading to Lord Ramos’ lands is but one great ridge. I aim to bore a tunnel, so instead of more than twenty days around, it will be but seven days through.”
A shiver ran through Lord Perez.
What power they must command , he thought,
that Lord Ryan may speak so casually of digging through a mountain, to shorten travel! But he was reassured, as well:
it seems I chose rightly, indeed. He saw that Ramos was puzzling over how a tunnel could be dug, or even if it could.
My friend, be glad, very glad, that Osvaldo Escobar sent you with me. You would be eaten alive and ruined before now, in Refuge.
“How long until we may go to prepare Lord Ramos’ home?” Perez asked Ryan, revealing none of his thoughts.
“By tonight your place will be ready, if the snows came tomorrow.” Ryan chuckled at Perez’ astonished look. “I didn’t say pleasant, but ready – you have what you need to survive. Every day between now and the snows means making things more comfortable.”
“I fail, then, in knowing where the firewood supply is”, Perez commented.
“Oh – a lot of it is on the other side of the bridge. Remember that huge pile of ends the workers had cut from timbers, to make them the right size? That’s all yours. Some will take more cutting, probably. And there’s more...” – he looked around – “up that ridge and down to the right. A storm... two years ago, I think, blew down three dozen trees or so in a heap.”
“That old – it is not the best firewood.”
“It’s warmer than none at all”, Ryan pointed out.
Perez laughed. “So it is!” A thought struck him. “And where these trees fell – when cleared, could it make a good field?”
“It’s level enough... I don’t know how good the soil is. But if you dump all your room pots there during the winter, and anything from the kitchens that will rot, I’ll bring a Druid by in the spring to turn it all into soil. That should make a good field.”
The Druída of legend! Perez exclaimed to himself. “Anything that will rot, you say?”
“Right.”
“Then leather, ashes, limbs, would go?” asked Ramos eagerly, happy to be able to join in.
“Definitely. Small bones, too – big bones, throw in the fire and take out with the ashes”, Ryan replied.
“A hot fire crumbles bones”, Ramos noted.
Ryan grinned. “Yes – that’s why it’s easer if you throw them in the fire.”
“And the carcasses of any wandering animals we cannot eat?” Perez wondered.
“Right – except the great cats. Don’t kill them, just warn them off.” The two from the south looked baffled. “They’re special to our Scouts”, Ryan offered as an explanation. “It’s something you’d have to ask them about.
“But for now – let’s inspect your camp, Lord Ramos, and plan to leave in the morning.”
“Your brother is becoming famous”, Antonio told don Ramón Delgado. He’d just gotten back from a trip to nearby villages to see what they made that he might get for trading, and what they might need of what he had, as well as to get a feel for the area. Don Ramón sat at a small table near the fire in the entryway, reading a small book. He marked it and looked up.
“What news?”
“He preached against the Inquisition... sort of!” Antonio exclaimed at the look on Delgado’s face. “There’s a verse about ‘everything must be confirmed by the testimony of two witnesses’. He said it must apply everywhere, in all courts, of the lords or of the Church. Everyone knows the Bishops follow that strictly, and in serious crimes so do the lords... mostly. One story has Inquisitors getting up and marching out of the church, another has two lords doing that.”
Delgado chuckled. “Inquisitors do not attend Mass in cathedrals. It is but a tale.”
“That part, yes. What’s certain is that someone got up and walked out, and that Bishop Theodoro preached that sermon. I heard about the sermon from seven different travelers in two different places. Two versions had Inquisitors walking out, four had lords walking out, the other had a priest walking out. So they all agree someone got mad and left.”
“You have learned much of the art of politics, friend Antonio”, Delgado observed. “You listen well now, and match the pieces much better than before. Perhaps you have a life ahead of you after all.” The two laughed; the final line was a joke between them, from a comment Lady Ismelda had made.
The joke reminded Antonio of a matter to be settled. “What do you think of leaving her to run the house?”
“Lady Ismelda? She does well, better than I. But this town is not safe for her; the bishop grows restless.”
Antonio nodded. “I’ve noticed that.
I’ve started traveling with a bodyguard. But what if she wasn’t in this town? What if, say, she was in Pueblo Alvarez – do you think she could run a house there?”
“Aha! And I, run this one. Set her in my old estate, where I dare not go, and I here, where she ought not remain.” He lifted an imaginary glass in salute. “I call it a plan. But her staff would not be happy here.”
“They go with her. I’ve found most of your old staff in Pueblo Alvarez. They should be ready to come this way by the time Lady Ismelda gets there. One day to show her around, and here they come.”
“You do not worry about the snows?” asked don Delgado.
“Yes, I do. That’s why I want this switch done fast – I want to go back to my own place for the winter.”
“When do you propose to tell her?”
Antonio grinned. “About five minutes after her people have all packed. They’re so good at keeping secrets, I’ll give them a good one to keep. Now since you approve, I’ll go tell Felix, and get things moving.”
Snow fell once on the way, but didn’t stick. Two days later it rained, but then the sun came out. On the sixth night, last before arrival at the ruined castle, a heavy frost came, but it was gone by noon except in the shadows. The day of their arrival dawned sunny but cold.
While servants and riflemen set up camp, a small pack train kept on. “Where do they go?” asked Lord Ramos. “Are those my supplies?”
“No worries”, Ryan assured him. “That’s a tower team – they’re going to go put a tower on the mountainside. When it’s done, and the one at Lord Perez’ castle is done, you’ll be able to send messages back and forth. So if you wanted to go visit don Manuel, your steward could let you know how things are going.” Tension drained from Ramos. Ryan couldn’t decide if it was from the idea of going back to be with Perez, or being able to know how his estate was doing if he did.
“Where would this tunnel emerge, if you make it?” Lord Perez inquired.
Ryan looked south and a bit east, but he couldn’t tell. “I’m not sure. Maybe if we went up the tower I could see enough.” The tower was the great marvel of this castle: while the rest had fallen roofs and some tumbled walls, with marks of fire, the tower was nearly untouched. Ryan didn’t tell them that the Scouts who’d found the place had discovered skeletons inside, still in their armor, the only exit blocked at the bottom. Ramos nodded and headed for the new door workers had put in on a previous visit.
“Please wait, don Ramos. I want to be prepared.” Ryan didn’t say for what, but Ramos understood immediately; he backed a step and looked the tower over with a changed attitude.
“Vermin”, he said when Perez joined him. “He worries about vermin.”
Perez gave a little smile and shrugged. “Better to worry, I think.”
Ramos smiled at that. “Yes, better to worry. We are not so fast as once.” He paused. “Manolo, will this Ryan be a good lord?”
“Rigel is to be our lord. I don’t know what to think of him.”
“I’m not that slow! Rigel is gone much of the time, and this man is his right hand. What do you think of him?”
“I think that in Refuge, they would chew him to death slowly. I think that here, he is a fine lord. He has done much work to help us. Many lords would have shown us where to go, and no more.”
Ramos sighed. “I hoped it was so. Seeing you had enough wood, that was kind. I would not have remembered it.” He bit his lip. “I need a son, Manolo.”
“I cannot make miracles, my friend.” Perez agonized with his friend; Ramos had lost his only heir, a daughter, in the same wagon accident which had ended his chances of siring more children. Perez was not proud of how he had taken advantage of the situation for gain, making House Ramos dependent on him. Before, Juan Ramos had been a passable manager for a House; after, something was missing; he could no longer keep together a whole picture in his mind, and forgot many details. But they had become friends, and then Perez had turned his skill to restoring the fortunes of Ramos that he had gotten spent on his own causes. In the end his position had been stronger for it, but he regretted having ever used this man. Out of a sort of penance, he had guided House Ramos to a peak it had never before reached. But there was one thing he could not do, and it was the one thing his friend truly needed.
“Do you think that perhaps Lord Rigel is right, that the... that she is no bruja, but truly a Healer from God?” Ramos asked, his voice a pleading, desperate, hoarse whisper.
Perez had no answer for that question. “Even if she is, she is not here, and even if she were, do you think she can replace what is gone?”
Ramos didn’t answer, just pointed: Ryan was back, three riflemen with him, flamethrowers strapped on. Flamethrowers had been needed in one section of Perez’ castle, but the two southern lords hadn’t seen them at work. Now, they might, and both were filled with anticipation and curiosity. Still, they had to wait while attendants brought their armor; no one risked meeting the demonic vermin without metal about him. Or so they thought: the armor Ryan and the riflemen pulled on was wooden!
“It’s laminated – lots of layers”, Ryan explained. “That makes it really strong. I don’t know what the wood masters glue it with, but that makes it even stronger. In some ways it’s better than metal, in other ways metal is better. But for a while we were short on metal, and the wood masters devised this. I like it because it’s light, and because it’s quiet.”
Quiet was important. On the second turn of the stairs, they heard scurrying above. Ryan dropped his visor and sent a blast of flame upward. One rifleman dashed forward in the glare while a second bathed the wall above and ahead of the first. When the first reached the edge of that protection, he dropped to a knee and scouted everything he could. At the same time, the third rifleman dashed forward, moving ahead while the first covered him.
A demon-spider dropped from above. Ryan washed flame across it, but it still managed to land on Lord Perez, crippled but still seeking to attack. Perez turned that side toward Ramos, who neatly sliced the creature in two; as the halves fell, Perez and Ramos turned as one and sliced the pieces into sixths. When they sheathed their swords, Ryan washed flame across the parts for good measure. Several seconds later, two more dropped past the riflemen; Ryan caught one dead center with his flame while Ramos batted the other aside with his blade and then quite deliberately stepped on it.
“Wash that off”, Ryan warned, “it’ll really weaken the metal.”
The riflemen reported lots of the beasts dead; they climbed again. Near the top they found the real nest of the things. The lead rifleman called a warning; Ryan saw several dozen moving and sent up a blast of flame. There were enough that he just kept pumping it out. Perez and Ramos chopped all the large ones that still moved after falling through the flame. But with four flamethrowers, it wasn’t much of a battle; in under three minutes it was over, smoldering and scorched corpses everywhere. Ryan joined the other two knights in making sure the things were all dead.
“I should choose a field”, Ramos commented.
Perez blinked, then laughed. “Are their corpses good for the soil, don Swenson?”
Ryan kicked at one; when a leg wiggled, he slashed the body wide open. “They should be”, he replied. “They can eat the same meats we do, so their bodies can’t be too different. Though... Well, even if they aren’t normally, I think a Druid can change that.”
“Your Druids have great power, to turn what rots into soil so swiftly”, Ramos commented.
“I agree”, Ryan responded, “though some of them would say that’s easy – things rot naturally; they just make it go faster. But enough talk of soil – my riflemen are signaling ‘all clear’. Let’s go to the top.”
From the top Ryan could indeed make out the contours he was familiar with from the maps scouts had drawn. “There”, he told the two lords, “between the winding ridge and the sort of bare one. That valley has a gradual slope, so that’s where the tunnel would come out. The road would follow the valley, then turn up along a river we can’t see, cross the river, and come up another valley. See the ridge with the jagged rocks sticking up? The road would follow that most of the way, then right where the rounded spur is we need a bridge to the next ridge. From there it would come this way, and around the south end to climb onto this table land.”
“This is all planned?” Perez asked in amazement.
Ryan nodded. “Running my hold gets wearying. But I like maps, and I like setting out projects to improve things. When I learned you were coming, I had a map made just of this area. Rigel and I already knew we needed someone in the old Escobar castle – oh! I forgot to tell you that, don Manuel: your castle belonged to Lord Manuel Jadriano Escobar’s second son. It was the last to fall, we think, to the Foe.”
“What was that son’s full name?” Perez asked, his tone serious and subdued.
“Actually – heck, Dallaen might know.” Ryan leaned over the parapet and hollered down. “Dallaen – come up!” His aide responded with a wave and dashed for the door. In under a minute he emerged on top, puffing hard. “Do you know what Lord Escobar’s second son’s full name was?”
“Second son... the one who held your castle, Lord Perez”, Dallaen remarked, thinking out loud. “That would be Sezár Orofino Jadriano – they found his name on a brass plaque. Why?” he finished curiously.
“I will call my castle Sezár Orofino”, lord Perez replied, “in his honor. And I shall build a watchtower higher than this” – Ryan blinked; the one they stood on rose eight floors! – “and call it Torre Jadriano, in honor of father and son both.”
“Forgive my saying so, but that seems odd from someone who was such an enemy of the Prince Heir and his father before him”, Ryan said. “Care to explain?”
Perez shook his head. “You do not understand. To all in Refuge, Lord Manuel Jadriano Ferdinando Escobar and his older two sons are like saints. They fought and gave their lives so our ancestors could get away safely. That is beyond politics.”
“Then why didn’t you know the second son’s name?”
“I have my failings”, Perez replied. “I admired the father, and neglected the sons.” He shrugged. “The follies of youth.”
Ryan laughed. “I’ve had a few follies myself. Now... let’s go down, so don Juan Martin can decide where he wants his rooms, in this heap.”
Eight days later Ryan and the two lords turned back. The castle was sufficiently repaired that it could shelter everyone – not comfortably, but enough for survival. Management was left in the hands of Ramos’ steward. A stone engineering crew remained to continue work as long as they could.
“If we get tired of the castle, we’ll start to work on the road, Wizard Ryan”, the Engineer said before they left. “Even if you don’t get that tunnel in soon, these folks will want to be able to get down to the resources below.”
“You’re in charge”, Ryan reminded him. “Pick your projects as you wish – but keep the steward happy, too.”
The weather was kind until after Perez and Ramos were settled into a much-improved Castle Sezár Orofino. The season’s first blizzard hit when Ryan wasn’t even a full day beyond the great wooden bridge. It made him nervous; that was how things had started to go bad on his first journey there. But nerves were not prophets: after a one-day delay, the rest of the journey was marked by nothing worse than flurries. Those flurries scattered snow that stuck, though: winter had arrived.
Ryan didn’t bother taking his things to his rooms; he left them for his squire and page. His goal was different: the top of the tower that rose through the cavern ceiling to become the highest spire of the castle above. There, he looked south, wishing he could see through hills and distance. “Rigel, get your ass home”, he whispered. “Don’t leave me alone here all winter.”
) Certainly any property they own should belong to her now.
Second to that ... THANK YOU! for this Awesome story! 
But, WOW!, is he ever handling it all well!! 
(I know! He'd HATE that Smilie! 
)
