The Better Part of Wisdom IP7

Island People 7

Island People is a young adult fantasy book centring on a young prince. The book starts with his kidnapping and follows his adventures as he not only escapes from his kidnapper but gains critical allies and friends. 

The entire book is scheduled on Substack, and there are several sequels. This is a book I wrote years ago, so it is in a bit of a rough form. Critiques and comments are more than welcome, they are requested.

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Tristan explained that his mother had sent them, and that they had some questions to ask him.

“And what payment do you propose for these questions?” the Expert asked, when he finished.

“My mother supposes that the information you will receive will equal the answers that you give,” Tristan replied.

“She does? It has been quite a while since I was last able to participate in an exchange on my particular subjects where my information was not so much greater that I did not feel obligated to charge. But come, let us speak together, and then I will decide. You have brought me a Heroiini; I am not an expert in Heroiini, but then neither am I seeking information on them in particular. How can he enlighten me?”

Tristan turned to Seth, who said, “I am a Heroiini, but I was not always one. I was a Farmer.”

At this the old man sat forward, and his eyes shone, “A transformed one? From Farmer to Heroiini? Never have I met such a one! Farmer to Visser, a Wife, I have met some… two after they made the change, and one even before. But Farmer to Heroiini! Never!”

“But you have heard of such a thing?”

“A transformation, oh, yes. It is not common, and it is rarely talked about, even among the Experts of the Elves, but it is known. All of the experts in other races, and in medicine, would know of such. But rare, yes, very rare.”

He turned to Tristan, “Surely, unless the questions that you have for me are very serious, your mother has erred. I would have paid, much, yes very much, to have a conversation with a Farmer turned Heroiini.”

Seth responded for Tristan, “Perhaps the information I have is not done, and perhaps the questions that I have are indeed very difficult. I am Seth, Son of the King, and I was kidnapped by a Heroiini.”

A full five minutes went by before the elder responded, “That I would live to have such information in my grasp! Yes, you are right. The information that you possess, and the answers that you need, both are of a price beyond measure. Come, let us speak together.”

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“But I don’t understand why I was kidnapped,” Seth said, after arriving at the present moment in his story. “No one who knows my Father would be inclined to think that he would bow to the pressure of my being kidnapped.”

Seth sat back on his haunches, his feet spread, his hand gripping an overhead branch. He had been speaking, mostly uninterruptedly, for at least four hours, grabbing handfuls of food whenever the expert had asked a question. He had covered subjects ranging from the death of his siblings, to the politics of the Kingdom, the character of his Father and other kingdom leaders, and then, as almost a separate conversation, his kidnapping by the Heroiini, particularly the events and feelings leading up to his transformation.

Silence reigned for several minutes. Seth profited from the occasion to eat and drink. Tristan and the Expert, whose name Seth had now learned was Urien, both stared off into space thinking, processing and, in Urien’s case, deciding. “My advice would be that you delay going home,” he said, eventually. “If your analysis is correct, the most likely place for your opponents to be is here in the south. Any road that you might take from here to the capitol would be one that, if they have received word, they could easily cover. While your features have no doubt changed due to your transformation into a Heroiini, we cannot count on them having been changed enough to fool anyone who knows you.”

“Instead you may send a messenger. As Elves are constantly traveling, particularly on the roads near here, there should be no problem with him getting through. Perhaps things would be more difficult once he gets to the capitol city. He will have to play that by ear.

Seth and Tristan sat quietly waiting for the expert to continue.

“Then, as for yourself, I recommend that you, accompanied by Tristan and one of my apprentices, proceed to the Great River, and then down it by boat to the land of the Marshmen. True, you will be passing through the heart of the great estates of the south; but boat traffic is constant, you can hide yourself from view, and no-one will expect you to be traveling south.”

“Once in the delta, you can proceed to Koenig, the great city of the Visserin We will arrange for you to receive messages there from your Father, or you can act as you deem best.”

“This preserves for your Father the advantages of the current situation. Your opponents have lost track of you. Being in Koenig you can, if he wishes, travel to the capitol city on a Visser Schip. Or your Father can elect to keep you there, safely away from his enemies. Rare the Farmer that goes to Koenig.”

Seth thought, then stated, “The question of payment raises itself; the messenger, those who accompany me to Koenig, would they accept my note of hand?”

“You think like a Farmer… or perhaps like a Heroiini,” the Expert scoffed, waving his hand.

Tristan continued, “My Brother, you do not yet know our ways. Consider. You have presented us with an opportunity beyond price. Our agent, no doubt another of Urien’s apprentices (Urien nodded) will be able to meet directly with the King, and perhaps be involved in subsequent affairs. Similarly, for me and the other apprentice, we will be able to interview and observe you throughout the trip. We will both return home, if we do, with enormous advantage.”

Seth pondered this, “It is not our way, but I can understand. Among us similar actions might take place from advancement in loyalty or power.”

“Such things are not unknown among us” the expert replied, “but they are not often spoken of, and we will not do so now.”

Silence again reigned, until Tristan broke it with, “My Father, what of our other question, the transformation? What is known of that?”

Urien leaned forward. “Little indeed is known. Beyond the Experts few indeed would have heard of such,” he mused. “And the Visserin, particularly the Schip Captains. They would know, since it happens most amongst them.”

“The way of it, that I have heard, is this. A Visser will come to port having lost his Wife. On the rare occasions where he cannot find one from among other Schippen, a Captain will take him aside and tell him the secret of transformation. Not a ‘secret’ such as cannot be shared, but merely such as is not generally known. Then he and the Captain will go, perhaps to the Father of a poor but beautiful Farmer girl, but even to one of the other races, and propose a large Bride price (for you know that Visserin are seldom poor.) At first they are appalled to think of their Daughter marrying one of another race. But Visserin are often seen, among some races (his tone led Seth to doubt that the Elf were among these races) as ‘romantic’. And so by frequent gifts, and repeated elevation in the Bride price, their reluctance is overcome.

“Little is known after that, but that soon, usually a matter of weeks, there is one more Visserfrau, and one fewer Farmer’s Daughter.

The Wife I was able to speak to was reluctant to share her feelings. One feeling she did share however was the dizziness that you related.”

After discussing some further details, Seth and Tristan prepared to leave. To Seth’s distress, the others had to help him to his feet.

Between the long hours of sitting, his generalized aches, and his pounding/dizzy head; he weaved from side to side as they walked back to where they began their downward climb. Jumping off a cliff onto a tree was not an experience he recommended.

On the way down Seth remarked, “The bark on this tree, and its branches, are significantly different from yours. I believe that I counted twelve different species of tree on our way here. It is intriguing to note the differences.”

“And I noticed the same thing in the meal that Mother sent with us. Except there, I believe…” here Seth stopped and put a hand to his head, which was pounding, “there I believe there were no fewer than fourteen different varieties of nut…”

All along the way home Seth rambled on about various things he had noticed, stopping occasionally from the pain in his head, and from dizziness.

Arriving home he was babbling. The others had to help him undress, and he kept talking the entire time. And he was hungry. And then, still mumbling to himself, he fell asleep.

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