“Something I wasn’t planning to mention at the time, to allow you to see for yourself. Since it’ll be a while until you meet Yozef, I’m now thinking I should mention it to you, and you can decide whether to pass it on to Maera.”
Sistian rose from his chair, walked to the window, and looked out over the manor grounds. Culich was patient, knowing Sistian was gathering his thoughts.
After several minutes, the abbot turned back to Culich. “It’s not just pieces of knowledge, like the ether. I’m hearing from farmers he’s given them ideas on increasing yields and warding off plant diseases, and tradesmen on new products and techniques, even more than the innovations you know about. Then there are the medical issues. Yozef knows little of how to treat patients and seems ignorant of basic facts. Yet the medicants tell me he’s answered questions about the human body that have always puzzled them. Also, he seems to have knowledge that even when they are convinced it’s true, they can’t understand how the knowledge was developed, nor can Yozef explain it. I’ve heard it said several times it’s almost as if someone is whispering knowledge into his ear.”
“Someone?” asked Culich, sensing where this was going.
The abbot smiled. “Yes, the someone being . . . God? I’m afraid I inadvertently contributed to the rumors when I spoke at our service of thanksgiving at St. Sidryn’s.”
“And this would make him . . . what?”
“I think you know the answer. A Septarsh. One who is directly inspired by God. The Word describes the Septarshi as men in touch with God like no others. Sometimes God whispers in their ear, sometimes in their dreams, or sometimes they simply know something without knowing how.”
“Not an Avatar?” said the skeptical Culich.
“No. I’m not even beginning to think of Yozef as an Avatar, a descent of God into human form. That’s too close to blasphemy.”
“So, what do you think?”
Sistian shook his head. “This is not something I would commit to. Not yet.”
Culich’s eyebrows rose. Sistian’s response meant he was leaving the question open, a major sign of the seriousness with which he took the issue. “So you think it’s possible?”
“Possible? Yes. Nothing in The Word of God or The Commentaries says all of the Septarshi have already lived. There are eleven recognized. The last Septarsh was over a hundred years ago. Each has differed from the others, but all are associated with major changes, sometimes with holy writings, sometimes with conflicts, and sometimes with gifts of knowledge. But all were acknowledged as Septarshi, either during their lives or after their deaths, and all were considered as God’s response to prayers for help or directing the people onto correct paths.”
“It sounds like Yozef fits the qualification of gifts of knowledge. What about writings and military?”
“I don’t see Yozef as creating new Holy Scriptures. I believe him to be a good man but firmly rooted in the world and not interested in theological issues. Military? As I said, I don’t know. He doesn’t fit what I’d expect out of a military leader, and I get the sense his view of how conflicts are pursued is very different from ours, if for no other reason than Caedellium has had no history of wars, as the mainlands have had. I again advise your drawing him out on this topic to see whether there’s anything to help with the Narthani.”
“And, of course,” prompted Culich, “the Narthani would qualify as the threat that God is sending Yozef as an answer to prayers?”
“That would be the more common folks’ interpretation.”
Culich was dubious. “I must say, this bothers me. Men regularly claim to commune with God, usually because they’re either mad or charlatans.”
“Yes, but usually is the main word. Septarshi may be rare, but the Word and The Commentaries acknowledge their existence.”
“You and I have spoken about the possibility that Rhaedri Brison in Orosz Province might be eventually acknowledged as a Septarsh, because of his commentaries on the Word. As infrequent as they seem to be, isn’t having two alive at the same time hard to believe?”
Sistian smiled. “Not being privy to God’s plans, I’d hesitate to offer any opinion on the matter. Brison has been working on new commentaries to the Word for thirty years at the monastery of St. Wyan outside of Orosz City. Any elevation of Brison would be based on his writings. There’s no reason to think God couldn’t arrange a Septarsh with other talents.”
Culich chuckled. “Meaning I shouldn’t give advice to God?”
“You’ll do what you think best,” Sistian said with a pious twinkle.
“What does Kolsko think of all this?”
“I don’t believe he’s aware of it. I’ve neither seen nor heard indication of such.”
“What do you think his response will be once he does become aware?”
“I suspect he’ll be appalled. Truth be told, I’m not sure he believes in the existence of God.”
“Then how can he be a Septarsh?”
“Nothing in the Word says a Septarsh must be a believer. He only has to be in communion with God, whether he knows it or not. We commonly think of the Septarshi as archangels, carrying out commands they hear directly from God, but all a Septarsh has to do is carry out God’s will, irrespective of how he gets the direction.”
“Well,” said Culich, “I’ll be skeptical. Then again, I suppose so will you. Keep an eye on him, and we’ll see what Maera reports back. When I get back from Orosz City, and there’s time, we can think again about arranging for me to see for myself.”
Two sixdays later, Culich Keelan sat alone in his study amid papers strewn across his desk. Semaphore messages from other provinces reported incursions and small raids into their territories bordering the Narthani client provinces, Selfcell and Eywell. Suspected sightings of Eywellese occurred in Northern Keelan. Raids erupted along the coasts throughout Caedellium, now by the Narthani themselves. There were details on the attack on Abersford and St. Sidryn’s, along with Maera’s transcription of his notes from a hetmen conclave in Orosz City, chronicling his discouragement at failing to convince more of the other hetmen of the seriousness of the Narthani threat.
His right shoulder blade had a knife of pain in it, he knew from tension. He avoided looking himself in the eye when before a mirror these days, too afraid to see the fear he hid even from Breda. When he was alone like this, it was the worst. It was then that he closed out externals and looked deeply into how he saw the play of the future. Every instinct he had said the Narthani meant to enslave the entire island, and he discerned no path to stop them. Even if it might not happen in his lifetime, this didn’t provide solace. The weight of his ancestors and the entire Keelan Clan was crushing.
Okan Akuyun’s mood contrasted with Hetman Keelan’s. Akuyun was . . . cheerful. He engaged in friendly conversations with both immediate subordinates and common troops. Rabia and the children all teased him on his relaxed manner at home, and he found himself noting minor things like a sunrise, the passing of seasons on this beautiful island, and the pleasure of reviewing the progress of the newest Narthani civilian colonists. He even found time to read Landolin poetry, something he would never confess to any other Narthani, besides Rabia.
Everything was going according to plan. All of the assigned troops were in place. Granted, they had been of poor quality when they arrived, but continuous training had them rounding into shape for what was necessary to accomplish the Caedellium mission. The attempts to confuse the Caedelli and prevent them from uniting was ongoing and impossible to evaluate with any certainty, but the Buldorian and Narthani raids, the secret contacts with several clans, and the placement of agents throughout the island had all proceeded as planned.