To help with the large cast of characters,
I have put together a spoiler-free Dramatis Personae
Namo Non’s cloak was still wet from yesterday evening’s rain. He and Ŏlo Hin had walked through the night, Ŏlo Hin leading him with a sense of direction and purpose that he did not share with Namo Non. And so, as dawn broke over the mountains, he was surprised to find himself looking upon the front gates of the Ŏklo estate.
“This is madness,” he said to Ŏlo Hin. “We cannot present ourselves to one of the most powerful Houses in Sona Gen.”
Ŏlo Hin looked at him, as if surprised to remember that he was not alone. He said nothing as he pounded his gloved fist on the wooden door.
When an Ŏklo sword came out, Namo Non turned away, as if to hide his identity, though he wasn’t sure if his company was as well known in Sona Gen as it was in the south.
Ŏlo Hin spoke to the guard who went away and returned some minutes later with an aged servant wearing a black hat in the northern style. The long black tassel dangled against his ear as he looked from Ŏlo Hin to Namo Non. The servant requested their names several times, but each time Ŏlo Hin refused.
“I will speak to Sivo Hin,” Ŏlo Hin said as answer to each of these requests, each time with increasing irritation.
“I must have your name or at least your Housename.”
At this, Ŏlo Hin sneered and answered. “I am known to Sivo Hin. He would punish you if you turned me away.”
He was known to Sivo Hin? Was that the lord of this estate? How could a Houseless man like Ŏlo Hin be known to Sivo Hin?
His declaration didn’t seem to have much effect on the old servant, who merely bowed impassively and left. Namo Non expected that to be the end of it. He expected the doors to close and Ŏlo Hin to be refused what he had requested. A part of him worried what he might do if Ŏlo Hin lost his temper. He wondered if Táno Gín would forgive him if he killed Ŏlo Hin here in the forest and left him for the animals.
But then the main gate opened and a man appeared. He was tall and slender, with a narrow, gaunt face and gray in his beard. An attendant trailed behind him like a soundless shadow. Both wore short, black soldiers’ golts embroidered with vines. A long velvet cloak wrapped around the master’s legs in the thin breeze.
The man stepped through the gate, motioning for his attendant to remain behind, which seemed to make him nervous as he put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Looking upon Ŏlo Hin, the man took a deep breath and said, “Ah. It is you.” And he glanced around the clearing, and then behind him through the gates, as if afraid someone would see him talking to them.
Ŏlo Hin offered a bow, his lips stretched into a tight line. Namo Non did not bow. This man was not his master. That they were here and calling upon a member of eastern Ŏklo was troubling enough. But Namo Non understood that he did not precisely have any authority over Ŏlo Hin. Not even Táno Gín had any real authority over him. And lately Namo Non had begun to fear Ŏlo Hin in a way he couldn’t entirely understand.
“My lord Sivo Hin,” Ŏlo Hin said, and his voice was strangely sweet, even gentle. Namo Non watched as an expression moved across his face that he had never seen before; something respectful, even obeisant had come over the strange Ŏlo Hin. But with it, a clenching of his jaw.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in the south,” the man, Sivo Hin, said to Ŏlo Hin.
“I was passing by,” Ŏlo Hin replied. “And so I am doing my duty.” He paused and tilted his head, then added: “Father.”
At last Namo Non understood. So this was Ŏlo Hin’s rumored connection to the Ŏklo House. He was the bastard son of this man. Namo Non wondered how highly placed Sivo Hin was within Ŏklo. High enough, it seemed, for him to feel compelled to forsake his illegitimate son.
But then Namo Non realized that Sivo Hin had given to his son half of his own name. Perhaps there had been a time when he had not intended to forsake him, but rather to claim him. From what little Namo Non knew of Ŏlo Hin, he would not have been surprised if Sivo Hin had ultimately decided not to claim his son due to his character. Not for the first time, Namo Non found the useless intricacies of House society incomprehensible.
“Who is this?” Sivo Hin said, gesturing to Namo Non. “This is one of them, isn’t it? One of those Houseless wretches from the south?”
“Never mind him. It is good to see you, father.”
“Do not call me that here.”
Ŏlo Hin started, but then immediately collected himself and offered an apologetic bow.
“What are you doing in Sona Gen?” his father asked him. “I did not give you permission to leave Gŏhíth.”
“You and I have the same master. I answer to him, as do you.”
Sivo Hin scoffed, his long, narrow face sharpening with a vicious laugh. “He is not my master.”
“Is he not?” Ŏlo Hin tilted his head.
Namo Non saw that underneath his respectful docility there was also a keen dislike. Dislike tempered by filial devotion. Filial devotion tempered by disappointment. Namo Non felt suddenly that he was intruding on their strained reunion and took another step away from them.
Ŏlo Hin went on, “Do you not do as he commands?”
“I do not,” Sivo Hin all but spat.
“If I were to relay a message from him, would you ignore it? Perhaps I should inform him that you are no longer willing to listen to him.” Ŏlo Hin turned, as if to leave. “If that’s the case, we will take our—”
“Wait,” Sivo Hin took a step after Ŏlo Hin, one hand outstretched. His attendant behind him switched from resting his hand upon the hilt of his sword to gripping it tightly. Namo Non pushed back his cloak and also gripped his sword tightly. Ŏlo Hin glanced at him, a thin smile upon his face. For a moment, it seemed to Namo Non that Ŏlo Hin was sharing with him a look of private amusement. As if his father’s challenged arrogance was humorous to him and he was sharing that with Namo Non. He half-expected the strange bastard to wink at him. like this was all a game.
But then he turned around and said calmly, “Yes, father?” again with that strange, docile tone.
Sivo Hin clasped his hands before him and said, “I am, of course, eager to repay the kindness he has shown to me.”
“Of course,” Ŏlo Hin answered.
“If there is something he wants me to do for him, I am happy to do it.”
Ŏlo Hin studied him for a moment. Then he gestured at Namo Non. “My friend here represents someone you know, yes?”
Sivo Hin looked at Namo Non, who had let go of his sword and tucked his arms inside his cloak. He made an effort to avoiding meeting the man’s gaze.
Sivo Hin nodded. “Yes.”
It occurred to Namo Non that Ŏlo Hin was not referring to Táno Gín, but to their employer in the south, the prince of Gŏhíth. It seemed Sivo Hin even knew about that connection.
“We are looking for someone who is, we believe, attempting to reach Osa Gate.”
Namo Non blinked in surprise. He couldn’t believe his ears. Ŏlo Hin was sharing the details of their mission — and with a member of a powerful House? Did Táno Gín know about this? He wondered if he should silence him. Glancing at Sivo Hin, he wondered if he would have to also silence him, and his attendant. He was tired and his joints were stiff from the cold, but he had a chance if he took them by surprise.
“Osa Gate?” Sivo Hin asked with genuine surprise. “Why—?”
“That is not your concern.”
“And he wants me to stop him? He wants me to find this person you’re looking for?”
“Not at all. You have one job in Osa Gate, do you not? Controlling the king’s Iron Hand.”
“And?”
“He has learned that you have not been successful in this. It would be unfortunate if our quarry was to reach Osa Gate before you had complete control of it. He has asked me to remind you of the reason you are where you are.”
“Ko Gŏth Enlin is hard to control.”
“Then you must try harder. Do whatever it takes.” Ŏlo Hin’s face was stone, his tone commanding. But then he smiled serenely and bowed his head. “That is the message he has asked me to convey to you.”
“Is that what he said, ‘whatever it takes’? He told you that? What if I have to spill blood?
“You may spill anyone’s blood but Ko Gŏth Enlin’s. Him you must not touch. The king’s Iron Hand is much too valuable to kill. But besides him…” Ŏlo Hin offered another serene smile. “Nothing is more important than control of Osa Gate.”
What if I have to do things for which I will be condemned if discovered? Will he protect me, then?”
“He will always protect the ones who serve him. He is loyal, father. And he keeps his word.”
It was clear to Namo Non that Ŏlo Hin had put a second meaning into his words and that his father had heard and understood. Sivo Hin studied his son, who returned his gaze without blinking, his hands clasped behind his back. At last he turned away and said, “It would help me to know what his plans—”
“It is not for you to know his plans, fa— my lord. He would remind you, of course, that if you do as he asks of you, you will be rewarded when it is done.”
Sivo Hin’s eyes darkened. Namo Non could see that hearing these words from his unclaimed son was a blow to his pride. Which was, Namo Non understood, precisely Ŏlo Hin’s intent. And yet the young man also seemed to genuinely wish for his father’s admiration in this moment. He was presenting himself as a person of importance to someone Sivo Hin valued. He hoped, Namo Non perceived, that this would make his father think well of him.
And perhaps Ŏlo Hin was chipping gently at his father’s pride in order to force him to acknowledge his son’s achievements. But even Namo Non could see that it wouldn’t work. The father did not seem to bear any love for the son. And the son seemed to possess more than a little hatred for his father.
“And father,” Ŏlo Hin said, taking a step closer to him and lowering his voice. “Did you really think he didn’t know about your secret hobby? Did you think he hadn’t learned of your adventures in the woods, pretending to be a bandit? Why do you think he hasn’t told the king? It is because he still hopes you can help him carry out his plan. But if you cannot, he no longer has any need to protect you, does he?”
Sivo Hin said nothing. He could not, of course. His hated son stood over him, a representative of some nameless power that could destroy him in an instant. Whether or not Ŏlo Hin had intended it, he had defeated Sivo Hin in this meeting. Looking at Ŏlo Hin, Namo Non saw that his face was pale and his smile trembled.
Sivo Hin turned to go back inside the estate.
“And father,” Ŏlo Hin said with a smile. Sivo Hin turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Please give my congratulations to my sister on her wedding. I would attend, of course—”
“You will do no such thing. If you set one foot inside these walls, I will have you thrown out. Just because he has taken you as his pet does not mean I have forgotten what you did.”
Nŏl and Hino Son paused outside Von Ol’s hall, the main hall of the estate. They could hear him inside, the low hum of his droning orders to his skeleton crew of servants and maids. This was the hour at which he ate his morning meal. Sivo Hin was probably inside with him.
Nŏl turned to Hino Son. “Go to the stables and prepare horses for Min San and So Nan. Two if Élo can spare them, but one strong one if not. Stop by the kitchens along the way and get what food you can for them.”
“Do you really think Sivo Hin will try to kill them?”
“In truth, I have never known him to be as ruthless as that. Killing a bandit, perhaps. But to kill two guests of the estate.” He shook his head. “My uncle is ambitious, but I cannot believe he is that bloodthirsty.”
Hino Son answered quietly, “He did kill the Sengí family.”
Nŏl took a deep breath. “We should get some silver together for them, too. Anything we can spare.”
Hino Son nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
Nŏl moved to enter the hall, but Hino Son took hold of his wrist. Nŏl looked at him.
“Be careful,” Hino Son said.
Inside the hall, the light from dozens of candles was dancing around the painted walls where frescoes as old as the Ŏklo House gazed at Nŏl as he entered. A porcelain stove of deep blue crackled with a powerful fire. The warmth of it filled the space.
Von Ol was sitting at the head of a broad wooden table. A small feast had been placed before him, most of which seemed to be finished. All that remained of the several plates and dishes was a single wheel of honey cake, gleaming in the candlelight. Von Ol had a glass of clear wine at his elbow and was pouring himself a cup of strong coffee from a finely-wrought silver carafe.
He was even larger than Nŏl remembered. But what was more startling was the condition of his large, fleshy face. The skin was pale around his eyes and red in patches on his cheeks and jaw. A glazed shine made his small eyes appear constantly wet with tears. Large wrinkles had developed around his mouth and nose, which was red and shining. When he breathed, it seemed like a great labor.
“Uncle,” Nŏl said with a bow.
“You’re here, good. It would have been better for you to have come to see me last night. My brother should have taught you to pay your respects as soon as you arrive. But I suppose late is better than never.”
“I have been occupied, uncle.”
Von Ol glanced up from his coffee. “Oh? Occupied with what?”
“You see, uncle, I brought with me into this estate an important prisoner.”
“A prisoner, you say? Some kind of criminal, then?”
“A bandit, as it happens.”
Von Ol’s face flickered. Just as Nŏl remembered, he was not good at concealing his thoughts.
“I encountered him on the road. He and his band of Houseless thieves fell upon a carriage on the Prince Road not far from here. They killed the occupants and left their bodies in the forest.”
“Unforgivable.” Von Ol pushed an entire slice of the honey cake into his mouth. He shook his head and repeated the word through his mouth full of cake. “Unforgivable.”
“This bandit told me the strangest thing.”
Von Ol didn’t answer. He took a long drink of coffee and used a silk napkin to clean his fingers. Then he gestured to the servants to get out as he stood up from the table.
Nŏl went on, “He said that this House has been permitting their activities in these lands.”
Von Ol picked his teeth with his fingernail and scoffed. The gold and gíth ring he wore on his forefinger glinted in the candlelight. “And you were foolish enough to believe him, no doubt. As prone to fancies as your father.”
“Like my father, I’m disinclined to believe anything without proof. Unfortunately, I will never know what proof that bandit carried.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone in this estate murdered him.”
After a brief look of surprise, Von Ol burst out laughing. “And you suspect me?”
Nŏl smiled. “Of course not. You are many things, Uncle Von Ol. But certainly not a man of such decisive action. No, I know who killed him. And I know why.”
“Who?” Von Ol demanded. “Why?”
Nŏl slipped his hand into the pocket of his golt and drew out the gíth pelican necklace. He held it up for his uncle to see, the faceted blue stones sparkling in the candlelight.
“What is this?” Von Ol asked, taking several steps closer to Nŏl.
“This was a family heirloom belonging to travelers of the Sengí House. The ones who were murdered by bandits on our land.”
“And so why do you have it?”
“Because, uncle, it was in the possession of Sivo Hin.”
Von Ol stared at his nephew. His face was an unreadable assortment of folded wrinkles and creases, but his eyes shone as he opened them widely and turned them from Nŏl’s face to the necklace that dangled from his hand. Nŏl watched as he tried to decide what he should say. He watched as his uncle did not even attempt a look of surprise.
He gently gathered the necklace into his palm and then put it back in his pocket. A heavy weight had settled in his chest, wrapped tightly around his heart. He said, “Tell me, uncle. How much does Sivo Hin have to pay you for you to allow him to rob and murder on Ŏklo land?”
With his open hand, Von Ol struck him across the face. Nŏl fell back, staggering. The ring his uncle wore had cut into his cheek and the blood flowed freely.
Nŏl touched the bloody wound and looked at his stained fingers, then turned his flashing eyes on his uncle.
“Do you think spilling my blood will save your position?”
Von Ol said, “This is my House—”
“No, uncle. This is your estate. This is my father’s House. And you are a fool if you thought he would not learn of your actions here. You are a fool if you thought he would do nothing just because you are his brother.”
He drew forth the thick, sealed paper from the inner pocket of his golt. It was the same one he had been studying yesterday evening. It bore the seal of the Ŏklo Housemaster stamped in heavy black ink.
Nŏl had spent the last day and a half thinking about his decision. A choice had to be made, he knew, a choice given him by his father before he had left Sălov.
The Ŏklo Housemaster had put the sealed paper in his son’s hand while Nŏl’s other brothers looked on. “If what we have been told about Von Ol is true,” he had said, “you will know if and when to use this. Though I beg the Ădol that you do not have to.”
Nŏl had protested, but his father had silenced him. “You act and speak on my behalf. You represent not just the master of Ŏklo, but the entirety of it. Your decision in Sona Gen will decide the future of this House.”
Nŏl broke the seal then and unfolded the paper, holding it up for his uncle to see.
Von Ol recognized it immediately, and his large face paled.
Nŏl said, “My father dearly hoped that I would have no need of this.”
He tried to snatch the paper from his hands, but Nŏl pulled it away. Von Ol read it while his nephew held it up for him. And as he read, his pale face gained a shade of green.
“This cannot be,” he said, chest heaving. He clutched his belly and struggled to catch his breath.
“It is the will of the Housemaster.”
The page bore the writing of Nŏl’s father. It bore an order, crisply written and phrased in such a way that Von Ol would be left with no escape. By virtue of his negligence as master of eastern Ŏklo, he was to be removed from his position, effective immediately. Nŏl would replace him until the Housemaster could assign a new head of the eastern estates.
Von Ol said, his voice a hoarse wail, “You have no proof. You cannot force me from this estate.”
“There is more.” Nŏl paused while he drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and used it to staunch the blood on his cheek. “My father has heard of your other crimes. As you can see here he was directed me to investigate each one carefully.” He pointed to a passage written a little smaller than the rest. While Von Ol read, Nŏl added, “You are a thief and a grotesque excuse for a man. While the investigation is being carried out, you will remain in the estate prisons.”
“And you will carry out this investigation?” Von Ol said, his voice high and shrill. “You are nothing but the least of my brother’s brats.”
“Yes, uncle. I, the least of my father’s sons, will oversee this investigation according to the will of the Housemaster. And you, subject as I am to his will and commands, will obey.”
“I will not stand for—”
“In addition to being removed from your position as master of the eastern estates, my father has given me a second order.” At this, Nŏl pulled another folded paper from his pocket, much smaller but printed with the same seal. He showed it to Von Ol, but then put it back in his pocket. “If your crimes are particularly grievous, my father has given me the authority to strike you from the House register. If I find that you are guilty of even a fraction of the crimes of which you are suspected, you will be made Houseless.”
Von Ol fell against the table behind him causing a great clattering of dishes. A door opened and one of the servants stuck his head in.
“Get out!” Von Ol bellowed, and the head disappeared. Then turning to Nŏl, he said, “You cannot remove me from my House.”
Nŏl bowed his head and answered, “We will see.”
Von Ol fell to one knee, his breathing sharp and labored. He clutched his chest while Nŏl found a porcelain cup of water on the table and handed it to him. But Von Ol knocked it away, letting it shatter against the wall.
“None of this was my doing,” Von Ol shouted. “I have no swords here in the east. My lands are not sufficient. What could I do? This wasn’t my doing.”
Nŏl scoffed lightly. “You have no swords because you have all of them dispatched as petty spies across the mountain road. I confirmed it last night. And today I will call them back to the estate where they belong, rather than meddling incessantly in the affairs of Koda. Did you think stealing the silver mines out from under them would work? Do you think you can compare to the mind of the Gin Ja Koda1? Even I know that she is superior to you in every way. You are a fool, uncle.”
“Your father is the fool,” Von Ol said, and spat at Nŏl’s feet.
He flinched with a start. It was all he could to hold himself back from striking his uncle.
Von Ol went on, “This House is failing because your father is weak. And spying on Koda wasn’t my idea. It was his. I had nothing to do with it.”
“His?” Nŏl asked, crouching next to his uncle. “Sivo Hin?”
“You already know, don’t you?” His face had a look of childish derision. “You spoke to your bandit prisoner and you have the necklace. You already know it was him and not me.”
Nŏl nodded once. “I know what Sivo Hin has done. It is no longer your concern. I will also handle him.”
“You cannot handle him,” Von Ol sputtered. “Even with proof. Even with a hundred sealed orders from your father. You cannot defeat him. He is protected.”
Nŏl shook his head. “Do you not see, uncle? Sivo Hin committed his crimes under your watch. In the eyes of my father, you are equally guilty. If he cannot punish Sivo Hin, you will have to bear his punishment as well. If you truly wish to save yourself, perhaps you should think of a way to help me fight him.”
“Did you come here this morning looking for him?” Von Ol asked, clutching his chest. “I told you. Even if you put him in the prisons alongside me, you won’t win. Whatever power is behind him—” he turned his pale face to look upon his nephew “—whatever power is behind Sivo Hin, you cannot win against it. It is greater than the power of your father.”
“Greater than yours?” Nŏl asked.
Von Ol set his jaw and refused to answer.
“Uncle,” Nŏl asked calmly, though Von Ol’s words troubled him greatly. “It’s beginning to sound like Sivo Hin has been standing over you with a whip. The Von Ol I remember would not have let anyone challenge his authority. Who was master of these eastern estates? Was it you, or Sivo Hin?”
Von Ol reached for his nephew’s arm and clutched it so tightly that Nŏl almost fell over. “If you challenge him,” he whispered in a terrible voice, “this House will fall.”
“Challenge who? Sivo Hin?
Von Ol didn’t answer. He let go of Nŏl and put his hands on the floor, struggling again to catch his breath. Nŏl saw something in his face that chilled him, something he had not expected when he came into this hall.
“You fear him, uncle?” he asked. “You fear Sivo Hin?”
“Of course not,” Von Ol answered sharply. But Nŏl saw a single tear slip down his cheek. He looked up at his nephew. “But without me, you will be powerless against him. Do you not see? He thinks himself untouchable. And so he knows no rule or law. Anyone who threatens his position he simply removes. He feels nothing and he fears nothing. Of course he killed your pitiful bandit. He would have killed you, too, Ŏklo or not, were it not for your father. He will kill anyone who threatens his power.”
“And you? Why did he not kill you?”
“Because I was not foolish enough to threaten his power. But with that—” he pointed to Nŏl’s pocket “—he will think you a greater threat to him than I ever was. If you want to save this House, you will keep me where I am and leave this estate, pretending you know nothing. Because if you remove me, he will see you as his enemy. Don’t you understand? He will kill anyone he sees as his enemy. And what will happen to Ŏklo if Sivo Hin becomes master of the eastern estates?”
Nŏl stood slowly. “Uncle,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Where is Sivo Hin now?”
“He just left, moments ago. He said he had matters to attend to before he returned to the mountain.”
“Matters?”
“He didn’t tell me. He doesn’t tell me anything.”
But Nŏl had already turned from him and was half-running to the hall door.
“It’s no use,” Von Ol called after him. “If you fight him, you will lose.”
Nŏl ordered the hall doors locked, confining his uncle within. He didn’t have time to deal with him now. He didn’t have time for anything. The only thought in his mind was that Sivo Hin was not here.
“Min San, So Nan,” Nŏl murmured, and then he broke into a run.
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Gihn-JAH KOH-dah
Nŏl is awesome! He's slowly grown on me as the story progressed, but this was his crowning moment!
Hilary, I wish you had seen my face when I found out who Olo Hin’s father is.
I also love how you show character descriptions from multiple perspectives over the course of the story.