Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

1.4 Callira

Evarrlie walked around the side of the hall of Chevelles to see why a crowd had gathered. A troupe of performers was reenacting scenes from a classic folk tale from the looks of it. She stood on the edge of the crowd for a moment, smiling at a little peasant girl who peaked at her from behind the tunic of another girl, probably her sister. Perhaps the first foreigner she has ever seen- she could not stop staring at her and had no shame, like a Tain would, in doing so. "We have much to learn," Evarrlie said in greeting to the girl, who broke into a wide grin, squealing out "She can speak our language!" before resuming her hiding spot. Evarrlie was used to this kind of a reaction. She had a quick conversation with the other girl, impressed at her Tainish, a rare thing in this region. After leaving her business card, she resumed her walk towards the chancellor's residence.

The Cassionian Chancellor of Chevelles, a woman of twenty-three according to the eight squares on her shoulders, sat in a reclined floor chair, after her very late breaking of fast. Cups of tea had been placed on a nearby small table, and one of her gentleman-in-waiting, poured the drink, firstly offering the chancellor a cup, taking one for himself and finally offering their guest one, in defiance of the protocol that would have existed had she been a native Cassioni. He had a bony face with a scar reaching from the left side of the forehead, ending on his left cheek. He gazed at the foreigner as the two women discussed characters of literature from their respective lands.
"This Queen of Mystery, as you call her, she has no formal education?" The chancellor absent-mindedly stroked one of the silken cushions next to her. 
"Indeed not. She is a seller of literature: a vendor, her education comes from her own trade, for she reads all the works she sells. It is likely a far superior education to what scholars could obtain in formal settings I should think," Evarrlie, atop a pile of sitting cushions, sipped the tea, trying to avoid eye contact with the gentleman-in-waiting as much as possible, for his presence reminded her of a cultural difference she could not stand. However, she was the foreigner and it was up to her to be accepting of local behaviours she would not have tolerated in her own land. She thusly tried to ignore him. "Perhaps, master of language, and you must not forget how highly scholars are valued in Cassion- they are of the high class along with us Legis. Not like in Tainland, where they are classless, or in Quirem where they are of low status. But she is, at her roots, a merchant, and therefore part of the working class. Nonetheless, she solves the crimes that others cannot, you say?" The chancellor took another sip of her tea, glancing up towards the illustrations depicting Cassioni leisure scenes on the curved ceilings, which matched the purpose of the room: for relaxation.
"She does indeed. She uses instinct and intellect and things she has learnt through reading. Simple as that. In Cassionian literature there must be amateur sleuths?" Her eyes also went upwards, to the dormant braziers attached to one side of each of the room's ten columns.
"Cassioni literature does not include such a genre, not that I am aware of much." The chancellor used an old Cassionian saying that Callira quite liked, and turned her gaze back down to her foreign companion who was so obviously a foreigner in this land, not only by her looks but her clothes also. Golden wavy hair surrounded a pudgy, cheerful face. Soft, pale skin, large nose and big lips. Blue ocean eyes, set high within deep sockets, she was not ugly, but neither beautiful as many foreigners were. "To read is to learn, so we focus on other, more important things." She returned the chancellor's gaze.
"Learning can nonetheless be done through works of fiction." Callira Evarrlie smoothed out the loose-fitting sleeves of her light hide jacket, tied at the waist with a cloth band.
"Can it? Then tell me teacher, what did you learn from reading the frivolous stories of your Queen of Mystery?"
"That is a good question, Chancellor," Callira's eyes twinkled, "I may need time to think on it before I can respond appropriately, but my initial thought is that I learnt that intelligence does not always come through formal education, it can be gleaned in many other ways,"
"Through reading, you mean?"
"Precisely, chancellor," nodding at her, "And that it can appear among people of all classes,"
"Go on," the chancellor replied simply.
"You see, she comes from a low-class poor family of farmers, largely uneducated. Her spiritualist mother banned her from reading anything outside of the Creed when she was young, which is the reason why she selected the trade she did." The chancellor's plain red silk tunic flowed from a keyhole under her throat, all the way to her knees, and she shifted under it, as the linguist spoke, thinking about the excessive amount of words which always came out of her mouth.
"Of course it requires rather a significant amount of intelligence to solve the mysteries she does. But another thought just came to my mind," the chancellor wondered if all foreigners spoke like this, never thinking on what they said, always blurting out whatever fancy entered their mind. "It is a story, chancellor, and a story about a person, which may be fictional, but it is nonetheless truthful.  And what is a land, other than the people that are in it, and the stories that they tell. In any case, I do recommend her stories if you think you might enjoy mystery as a genre of literature." The chancellor raised an eyebrow, for what her foreign friend had just said seemed quite profound to her, despite it being masked in fanciful jibber-jabber, but also somewhat treacherous against the well-defined classes of Tainish society, which did not value art, literature and cultural teaching as highly as did her own.
"Perhaps," she said, conceding. "Solving mysteries is difficult is it?"
"I suppose so, but I've never tried. I can't even guess the outcome of the mystery. I'm not the author of course and the stories are rather convoluted at times, but I have read many of them, and can never guess. I do so enjoy them. Those and the Creed of course." The chancellor rose an eyebrow at this last comment, as if debating whether to delve into a discussion of spirituality, but she abhored the Tainish Creed and did not engage.
"I must learn our valiers of these stories, perhaps it would aid them in their actual work. These days, many a mystery go unsolved." Callira laughed, the idea of Cassioni going around with a glass of magnification, to search for clues was amusing. "Perhaps, there are other kinds of mysteries within your literature?"
"Not of the type you describe."
"No, I should hope that the murder of a Legis or an ascendant is not something written about here too often."
The chancellor gave her a look as if she had just said something of great consequence and the latter wondered if she had overstepped the line. Likewise did the gentleman's eyes widen in apparent fear. Instead, the chancellor burst into a fit of deep laughter, the other joining in, the gentleman-in-waiting resuming his relaxed slump. "Oh master survivor," she squeezed out between giggles. "I am so glad you were kidnapped," she said, referring to how they met. It was Callira's turn to laugh. "Chancellor, as am I!"

The two had become friends after
the chancellor herself had hired Callira as the first foreign teacher of languages of Angounesse and she had not left since. The two women got along despite being from different lands. The chancellor was curious to hear about Callira's life as a child in Tainland: she had never ventured much further than the region of Angounesse, other than to the capital. They had a mutual understanding of each other, even though that was hard for others to comprehend, but such relationships were for the benefit of the lands of both involved, they always said.

Evarrlie refocused her thoughts on their previous conversation. What were they talking about? Ah yes! Mysteries. But instead, the chancellor changed the topic of conversation.
"Did you hear about the new road being constructed?" The Cassioni roads were not good, often badly made on purpose by the different local Legis for the defence of their territories. Thus, even where a straight road could be made on flat land, it was purposely made high up on the hills and in a winding way. Rivers were often left bridgeless where bridges could easily be constructed.
"I do not believe so, of which road do you speak?"
"It's from the capital."
"There is to be a road to connect Chevelles with the capital?"
"Indeed so. And a good road too. Foreign visitors may think our roads bad compared with those of their own lands; but in our eyes our present roads are beyond any comparison with those of some thirty or forty years ago."
"Yes, I was impressed to learn more of the history of Cassion from the book you learnt me."
"Our central legis, as well as our local legis, took much pain and spent much money on the matter and soon a road from the capital to Chevelles will be complete."
"Very good." Callira said, running a hand through her hair, wondering if she could use this as a segue to talk about the sacking of Yarazhenya's candle caravan. "I heard recently of a Tainish project in Petrovia: Construction is proceeding at breakneck speed they are calling it. But natives are a constant obstacle, angry that transit routes are being constructed through their fields and lands. And resentful towards the Tains who are doing it, even though it's to their benefit."
The chancellor inhaled, her gaze directly on Callira, as if she knew of an ulterior motive for mentioning these topics. "Nothing like the great progress and development that is no doubt occurring here in Cassion." Callira added, to be safe.
"In these mystery stories, does she ever solve the problem of angry, resentful locals?"
"I do not believe so, chancellor, why do you ask?" Callira stared at her friend's face, hoping to see a twitch or something which gave away the chancellor's true intentions. But years in Cassion had still not taught her to see through the veils of innuendo and subtlety: even now Callira still preferred directness. It thusly remained mostly challenging to ascertain the interests of her Cassioni interlocutors.
"If stories do not serve to provide solutions, what good are they?"
"You have a point chancellor. What would you recommend doing about it?"
"Kill them," the chancellor maintained a steady contemplative gaze on the foreigner, using a tone of voice as casual as if she was discussing the weather. "There is no other option to consider when it comes to the cohesion of the people. Do you not agree?" The chancellor occasionally liked to provoke her friend with provocative questions to which she already knew what would be the response. The gentleman in waiting was also interested apparently. Callira chose to ignore it, using the Cassioni communication technique of changing subjects when a question came up for which one did not want to answer. Plus she saw her chance.
"I ask the spirits that we see nothing like what is happening in Petrovia. But I have heard of something..." she paused to see if the chancellor would take the bait. "My friend the candle merchant, you know of her?" A tiny tick in the chancellor's face, gone as fast as it had come so Callira was never even sure if she had seen it.
"Her caravan, it was sacked, and I heard it was.... growing rebellion of sorts?" Another tick, this time tinged with displeasure, registered on the chancellor's face.
"Maybe we can put the skills of deduction the sleuth uses, to deduce where you keep hearing these rumors from," a joke to end the conversation. Evarrlie was not going to push it any further.
"Yes, quite," Callira gave a big smile. She often felt she was a loser in the conversations with the chancellor, even though they were not in competition for anything. But if the contest was whoever could hold their tongue the longest, Callira was  never the winner. She would simply have to try again next time. They bade their goodbyes,
and followed the attendant out of the room, down the steps and through the stone fence at the other side of the garden.