“It’s true, though,” Mike said, frowning. “Even I know that.”
“The valley is large but only specific fields are well suited to wheat,” Genadi said, furrowing his brow. “He was being pushed for more income, and wheat is an income generator. But so is soy, especially now that there’s a mill in Tbilisi. The transport cost eats up a bit, but not much. But he didn’t want to listen. Wheat is what he knows, that and oats and potatoes. Even peas, though he doesn’t have an eye for a good hybrid. Really, he’s not a very good overseer. He just talks a good line to Mr. Mironov. And blames his failures on the Keldara.”
“Do you think you could do a better job?” Mike asked.
“Is that what this is about?” Genadi said, raising an eyebrow. “A job interview?”
“And picking your brain,” Mike admitted. “I want to buy the caravanserai. Unfortunately, it comes with the valley. I don’t really need the valley, but if I’m going to buy a farm, I’m going to do it right. And I could spot a bullshitter from across the room. The question is, are you any better? I don’t know a plow from a sickle so I don’t even know the questions to ask. And I don’t know what the Keldara will stand for.”
“Well, they’ll do most things that you ask in reference to running the farm,” Genadi said, carefully. “If it cuts into their stores for the year, though, they’ll balk. You understand the setup down there?”
“Not at all,” Mike admitted. “Explain.”
“The Six Families have worked the fields for as long as anyone can remember,” Genadi said, frowning in thought. “And, really, there hasn’t been much change in their methods since the late middle ages, I swear. The plows are bit improved and they buy hybrid seeds, but that’s about it. And even the hybrids they buy aren’t the best, in my opinion. But they are cheap. They would be willing to work with modern machinery, but they have a deep belief that things like that are supposed to be owned by the land owner. Even the plows are owned by the bank, did you know that?”
“No,” Mike said. “I’m not sure what I’m buying, am I?”
“No,” Genadi said, sighing. “The land, the houses, the major tools, most of the livestock are all owned by the bank, by you if you purchase the farm. The Keldara own hand tools, their food, the furniture in the houses and the clothes on their backs. Oh, personal items as well. But everything else is owned by the bank. They buy seed on shares and owe shares of their output to the owner of the land. It works out to the owner getting about thirty percent of the material farmed and the Keldara getting the rest. They also have the right to farm small patches for themselves, three hectares per family, and to cut wood and gather certain items from the forests. They also have the right to run a few family owned livestock out with the owner’s. They have the duty of fattening two of the steers per family for the use of the owner and the butchering of same. There are various other minor rights and duties. Now, the point is, these are rights and duties as seen by the Keldara. Some owners, notably the commissars, forced them to provide different support, to change their rights and duties. But as soon as the commissars left, they switched right back to the original custom. They are very custom bound, are the Keldara.”
“You say ‘they’,” Mike noted. “But they’re your family, too.”
“I was more or less cast out when I challenged Otar,” Genadi said, shrugging. “If you hire me, I can work there. I can act as overseer. But I’m not, technically, a part of the Families anymore. That will make it easier in a way.”
“What landmines do I really have to look for?” Mike asked. “Don’t get caught alone with a woman, you said that.”
“Well…” Genadi said, sighing. “If you buy the farm, things will be a bit different. Frankly, the older members of the family have been whining for a Kildar for some time.”
“I’m not a lord or whatever,” Mike said, definitely.
“If you buy the farm, you’ll be the Kildar,” Genadi said, just as definitely. “And don’t discount that. The Kildar can get away with things that regular mortals cannot. If you make a mistake in dealing with them, they’ll be immediately willing to overlook it for the Kildar. The Kildar is more than a landowner. In ancient times…” He paused and frowned, then shrugged. “Well, the Kildar is an important man to the Keldara. You get the similarity in terms, yes?”
“Yes, and they’re not Georgian,” Mike pointed out, wondering what Genadi had not said. “What about ancient times?”
“That’s… not something I can talk about,” the man said, rubbing at his chest.
Mike noticed that he had some sort of cord around his neck and wondered if his shirt hid an oddly shaped axe.
“So, landmines,” Mike said, changing the subject.
“Debt,” Genadi said, immediately. “The Keldara are very stingy and very loathe to assume any debt outside the Families. Even to the Kildar. And they won’t take charity. If you buy farm implements, improve the houses, whatever, that is up to you. That is your responsibility. But… if the food runs short in summer, as it often does, they won’t accept charity. And even if they are short, if they owe you foodstuffs they’ll give them up rather than fail in a duty. That, to them, would be debt.”
“What about medical support or public works?” Mike asked.
“There is no medical support,” Genadi said, frowning. “The nearest hospital is Tbilisi. There’s not even an infirmary. If anyone gets sick, they die.”
“That’s got to change,” Mike said. “I’ll see about that.”
“You’ll have a hard time finding a doctor that’s willing to move up here,” Genadi pointed out.
“I might be able to get more help than you think,” Mike said. “Public works.”
“Well, it depends on what you’re thinking about,” Genadi said, furrowing his brow. “What sort of public works?”
“I’m thinking of putting in a small hydroelectric dam and plant,” Mike admitted.
“My, you are thinking big,” Genadi said with a chuckle. “You’ll have to pay the men to work on it. And I suppose you can work out some sort of an exchange if you intend to wire the houses.”
“I do,” Mike said. “But that is for later. That caravanserai is too big for one person to manage it. I’ll need some help, a cook if she can learn to cook my way, at least a housekeeper and maybe some maids, a gardener, things like that. Can I draw on them from the Keldara?”
“They’d be insulted if you didn’t,” Genadi said. “But that doesn’t fall in their shared duties so they’ll have to be paid.”
“Of course,” Mike said. “What about forming a militia? From the sounds of what Vadim was saying, the Keldara aren’t pacifists.”
“Quite the opposite,” Genadi said, chuckling. “They pride themselves on, well…” He paused again and shrugged. “They’re not pacifists. In the spring they have tests of strength and wrestle to see who is best. The winner is called the Ondah and gets certain rights and privileges. Most of the men chosen to head the Families are former Ondah so people really strive to win. And there are old weapons stuck here and there. Sometimes we practice with them and we really practice with them. And you don’t want to deal with an angry Keldara holding an axe. There is a technique to axe fighting and I think we may be the only people on earth that still practice it. If you wish to make a militia from the Keldara, they’ll support it enthusiastically.”
“It’s more than just getting handed guns,” Mike said. “I was an instructor for American commandoes, what are called SEALs—”
“Navy commandoes,” Genadi said, his eyes narrowing. “I have heard of them.”