As a consequence, news was always late, and life moved slowly and unhurriedly away from the capital of the Confederation or the port cities or the archducal capitals. The Duchy of Morguhn was no exception; the peace and ordered tranquility well suited the father of Bili and his eight brothers, giving him the time needed to devote himself exclusively to his lands and his books.
Prior to the death of Bill’s grandfather, Hwahruhn Morguhn had soldiered up and down the Middle Kingdoms with a troop of Kindred noblemen under the command of his kinsman, Djeen Morguhn. Djeen who had gone on to rise swiftly to the rank of Strahteegos in the Army of the Confederation and Hwahruhn had both distinguished themselves at the seige of Kooleezburk. After its conclusion, Hwahruhn had wed the daughters of the victor, Duke Tchahrlz of Zunburk, sending his new brides south to dwell with his father, while Djeen marched the troop off on a new campaign.
As the two lovely girls and their escort wended their way through Kehnooryos Ehlahs, capital province of the Confederation, a band of Morguhn men spurred tired horses northward, to bear word to Hwahruhn of his father’s death.
Confirmed Thoheeks and Chief Morguhn of Morguhn, Hwahruhn had settled down with his young brides—Mahrnee, fourteen, and Behrnees, fifteen—to commence the siring of legitimate sons to succeed him. It had been a very late marriage; Hwahruhn was over thirty-five years of age.
Within the next six years his blond wives presented him with eleven sons. The fact that nine of these sons still lived at the time of Bill’s ride was considered amazing. For despite the best efforts of the High Lord to improve the sanitation of cities and towns, despite his importation of skilled physicians from the Black Kingdoms, despite his establishment of a school in the capital to train Ehleenoee physicians in more advanced and antiseptic techniques, disease still ran high in the Confederation, taking off the young and the old.
In most provinces, few Kindred nobles descendants of the Horseclansmen who had received lands from the Undying High Lord dwelt in the unhealthy environs of their cities, preferring instead their halls amid their ranches and farms. So it was in spacious, sunny Morguhn Hall that Bili was born and it was there that he remained throughout his first eight years of life.
He never needed to be taught to mindspeak, communicating thus long ere he learned vocal communication; nor was it needful to teach him to ride. His uncles and mothers were mightily pleased at these innate abilities, as was too his father in his quiet way.
By the time the lad was eight, his father had granted grudging permission that his heir be given to the care of his mothers’ cousin, Gilbuht, King of Harzburk, for education, wartraining, and gentlemanly polish. Those years of residence at the Iron King’s bloodspattered court riddled with intrigues which kept the Royal torturers and executioners busy and service with the standing army of tough, practical younger sons and mercenaries molded the gangling, big boned boy into the broadshouldered, steel thewed man Bili had become by his sixteenth year. Most of his mentors, noble and Freefighter alike, could be cruel, rapacious, and frighteningly coldblooded toward their foes; but they were generally honest in dealing with their comrades and strictly honorable within their code.
Three months prior to Bili’s eighteenth summer, his father was struck down by a sudden paralysis, and his mothers sent word for him to return, indicating that speed was essential, since his father might not live long. King Gilbuht freely offered him a strong escort, but knowing that a troop would slow him, he elected to ride alone.
Despite rain, sleet, mud, the brief skirmish, and other assorted difficulties, Bili, Mahvros and the mule arrived at Morguhn Hall but nine days after they had departed King Gilbuht’s capital. Only his mothers recognized the tall, hard, weather darkened warrior who, stubblefaced and travelstained, strode stiffleggedly out of the night and into the hall.
But Hwahruhn clung to life and, hearing of his illness, the Ahrkeethoheeks Petros sent a master physician to tend him. Under the skillful care of Master Ahlee and his apprentice, the Thoheeks made a slow but halting improvement. As the planting season passed, he regained limited use of his left arm and some sensation in his left leg and side, but his mindspeak was gone and he could speak aloud only haltingly.
Master Ahlee, the Ahrkeethoheeks’ physician, was candid with the lady-wives of his patient. “At all costs, your husband must remain free from any strain or tension, mental or physical, else he be struck by another paralysis and death certainly ensue. As he is now, it is probable that he never will walk again, and his life hangs by a thread. Naturally, I will stay with him so long as his danger remains grave.”
Bili had been two weeks in the duchy, ere he was allowed to see his father for even a few minutes. Dutifully-for the old Thoheeks’ rank alone deserved deference—the young man knelt by the couch and took his sire’s soft, pudgy hand between his own hard ones, speaking in the hushed tones one uses to the gravely ill. “My Lord-Father, can you hear me?”
Both the stricken man’s lids twitched, but only the left one opened. Mumbling broken phrases from the left side of his mouth, he asked, “Who is … ? Mahrnee? Who is … man?”
Mother Mahrnee knelt beside Bili where Hwahruhn could see her, while Mother Behrnees gently opened the lid of his right eye. Placing her firm, freckled arm on the son’s shoulders, Mahrnee said, “This is Bili, Hwahruhn. This is your oldest son, husband mine. Do you not remember Bili?”
After kissing his hand, Bili laid it back on the coverlet, saying stiffly, formally, “My Lord Father, I grieve to see you ill.” Then he bowed his head, indicating homage, the morning sunlight glinting from his freshly shaven scalp.
Featherlight, trembling fingers brushed his head, then wandered down over cheeks callused by his helmet’s face guards. Finding his scarred chin, they tugged weakly and Bili raised his face.
“Bili … ?” His father mumbled chokedly. “Bili, my … poor little lad … what have … they done … to you?” Then his brimming black eyes spilled over and tears coursed down his pale cheeks.
The whiterobed physician signed them to leave the room, and Bili was much relieved to do so. For tutored as he had been, he considered open display of emotion unmanly and was acutely embarrassed by and for his father.
Afterward, the three sat about the winetable in the sisters’ sitting room. Mother Behrnees laid her slender fingers on Bili’s arm. “Son, do not judge your father by the standards of Harzburk, for the court of cousin Gilbuht is far from Morguhn in many ways. Here, life is different, slower and softer, like the speech. Though I doubt me Hwahruhn has lifted a sword in fifteen years, still is he worthy of your love and respect. For judged by the standards of his realm, he is no less manly than are you.
“Your father’s Kindred love and respect him, feel him to be good and just and merciful. Until he is more fully recovered of his illness, if ever he is, you will necessarily rule here in his stead. You could do far worse than to emulate those qualities his people so admire.”
After blotting watered wine from her pink lips, Mother Mahrnee spoke. “Son, since your return, Behrnees and I have painfully pondered the wisdom of sending you and your brothers-but especially you, the chief and Thoheeks-to-be-for so long a sojourn in the land of our birth. True, those years made of you a full man and warrior. Our hearts were swelled with pride when first we saw you, as you are now so like to the father and brothers we love and remember.