by David Drake
“Keeping order, you say?” Binzer said. “But for how long? As soon as the soldiers leave or the Champion does, the fighting will start! It’ll just raise the pressure!”
“Lord Thomas thinks that Lord Alfred made off with his son,” Gleer said. “They didn’t like each other to begin with. There’s been trouble between the families ever since the mines started bringing in enough that they’re about equally rich now, but Thomas accused Alfred of killing Lord Herbert and there’s no talking to either of them now.”
“They’ll go to it as soon as one or the other thinks he’s got the edge,” Hodding said. He had probably been born gloomy, but the things he’d seen since then sure hadn’t helped. “Or maybe quicker. What they call soldiers may not be much good, but they still eat like they were real. Pretty quick one of the lords is likely to decide that they’ve got to do something or they’ll have to give up, and they won’t give up.”
“But what do you think I can do?” I said, feeling frustrated. I could understand the situation, and I was willing to believe that Binzer and his people were right about what was going to happen, but my part was still a mystery.
“Mistress Toledana said that you could find a way to fix the problem!” the Clerk said. “She didn’t know how, but you’d figure something out.”
“I bloody don’t know how!” I said. But my mind was working on it.
I stood up and turned my chair a little to be able to get past it. “Look,” I said. “I’ll talk to Lord Clain about it and see what he thinks, but I can’t promise—”
“Bless the Great God!” the Clerk said. “You’ll go to Histance if the Chancellor agrees, your lordship?”
“Yes,” I said. I sighed. And of course Lord Clain would let me go. “I’ll take a look. But no promises.”
As Osbourn and I exited into the main room, we heard Binzer and his assessors congratulating themselves.
“I’m sorry, your lordship,” said the clerk seated near the entrance of the Clerk of Here’s section. “She went out over an hour ago and didn’t say—oh! Here she is!”
I turned and saw Mistress Toledana coming in behind me. “Mistress!” I said. “Got a minute?”
“For you, yes,” the Clerk of Here said. “Come on back to my nest. I have a little something for you.”
We walked down the long aisle of filing cabinets. I could hear others working in aisles to either side, but nobody else was visible.
We went out onto the Clerk’s balcony. I closed the door behind us and said, “I gather I have you to thank for siccing the Revenue department on me?”
Toledana laughed. “Binzer’s quite a nice fellow,” she said, “and his wife makes wonderful strudel. I think I can guarantee you a strudel at the first of the year if you take care of this. Or just for trying.”
I seated myself in the extra chair. Our knees almost touched on the narrow balcony. I said, “I appreciate the thought, and if I knew what a strudel was I might be even more appreciative.”
Master Fritz could doubtless tell me. I could guess how much fuss he’d raise if I chose to eat food cooked by a clerk’s wife in preference to his, and that would mean a fuss with May.… Life in Beune, with Mom cooking what she pleased and me eating what was put in front of me, had been pleasantly simple; though Mom, I knew now, hadn’t been a very good cook.
“But Mistress?” I said. “Why do you think I can cure this problem? Right at the moment I can’t think of a better solution than letting the sides fight it out between themselves.”
“If they’re as evenly matched as Binzer says,” Mistress Toledana said, “that would ruin Histance for a decade. They’d manage to destroy each other’s holdings even if they couldn’t defeat the other army. I’ve seen it happen.”
She turned her hands palms-up and smiled at me. “I have confidence in you, Pal. You don’t know what to do yet, but you haven’t gone to Histance yet. When you do, you’ll find something if there’s anything to find.”
She pursed her lips at a thought. “You know…” she said. “I wonder if it’s because you’re a Maker. You’ve repeatedly seen things that other people haven’t. Including a way to defeat Lord Baran.”
“I saw a way to hold Baran to a draw,” I said. “That I beat him was just luck—him getting angry.”
“And you didn’t get angry,” Toledana said.
“No, I was scared to death,” I said. Though that wasn’t really true: I’d given myself up for dead when I stepped out onto the field, but I wasn’t really afraid of dying. My problems would be over then.
And of course by the end, I was just too tired to think. I was doing what I’d decided days earlier to do, guiding Baran’s strokes away with my weapon. Again and again and again…
I shook my head at the memory, but that didn’t matter now. “Mistress?” I said. “What was it you said you had for me?”
She handed me a document from the middle of the stack on the desk which folded out from the railing beside her. “You’re familiar with Wingfield, aren’t you? It’s not far from Beune.”
“I’ve heard of it,” I said, taking the document. “I’ve never known anyone who went there, though. We aren’t great travellers on Beune. Except for me, I guess, but I wouldn’t have been one except that I wanted to be a Champion.”
“One of my clerks,” she said, “Master Saml. I think you know him, don’t you?”
“We’ve met,” I said. “He seemed to have initiative.”
“Yes, quite a sharp lad,” Toledana said. “Anyway, he found this note in records from the parish on Wingfield. He thought it might have bearing.”
A passage had been copied out in a sprawling, legible, hand. A laborer who’d been injured in a rock-fall had dictated an account to the priest before he died. The dying man had left his home village just as his brother came back with a great treasure. When he returned himself after a long journey, the village had vanished. There was no sign of it on the stretch of Road between the two neighboring nodes. Their names weren’t recorded.
The man had lived another fifteen years, afraid that if he said anything people would think he was crazy—or that he’d murdered his brother and family for the treasure. Since he knew he was dying, he wanted to tell somebody.
When I finished reading I looked up at Mistress Toledana. “That sounds like what the Female said about her village,” I agreed. “Is there any information on where this missing village was supposed to be?”
“Somewhere within fifteen years of wandering from Wingfield,” the Clerk said. “And the record appears to have been made at least fifty years ago. I said it was a small thing.”
I stood and shook her hand. “Thank you, Mistress,” I said. “Keep looking, and I’ll keep looking too. Between us we’ll find Master Guntram yet.”
I actually felt hopeful when I said that; though I couldn’t for the life of me have guessed why.
Lord Osbourn and I walked our dogs through the plantation of buckeyes to where the boat waited at landingplace. It was sunny and nice, a lovely day.
“A perfect day to be out on the field!” Osbourn said.
I glanced at him. Just in case he meant more than the words, I said, “You know, you can still stay here and get on with regular training if you’d prefer that.”
“Oh, no sir!” Osbourn said. “I’m sure I’ll learn much more going with you than I would with the machines.”
“You might,” I said. “But you’re not going to be doing as much of the stuff you need to get through the tournament.”
“I want to become a Champion like you, sir,” Osbourn said stiffly. “Not just to win matches.”
I didn’t know how to answer that one. The boy sounded like he meant it. Under the dappled shade of the trees it was downright nippy. I felt myself shiver.
We came out into the full sun of landingplace. The dogs moved ahead of us, glancing at one another and surveying the activity around them. Half a dozen vendors were already
set up in kiosks—mostly dram shops—and there were as many guides—and touts—hoping to snare visitors to the capital.
“Christiana has been a lot happier since we started going out on the field regularly,” Osbourn said. He sucked in his lower lip and said, “And so have I, sir. I apologize again for, well, for the way I was.”
“Saving my life would make up for worse behavior than anything you did, Lord Osbourn,” I said, hoping he’d drop the subject.
The Herald of the Gate came bustling over to us, which wouldn’t normally have pleased me, and said, “They’re already at the boat, your lordships! They asked if you’re arrived yet!”
“Thank you,” I said, because I didn’t want to get into a discussion with him. Baga was supposed to be at the boat, but what the bumptious little Herald meant by “they” escaped me—
May came out of the hatch and skipped down the three steps. She was wearing bright yellow slashed with white, and her smile was equally sunny. She ran toward me with her arms wide.
Lady Jolene, the Leader’s Consort, followed May through the hatch.
“Your ladyship!” I said, stiffening in surprise.
May threw her arms around me anyway. “We decided to come and see you off, darling!” she said. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, hugging her properly now that I knew there wasn’t something unexpectedly wrong.
“Pal…” said Jolene as she walked over to us. I knew that the Consort was at least forty, but even as close as she stood to me now, nobody would have guessed she was within ten years of being so old. She laid her fingertips on the crook of my elbow. “I’ve been remiss in not having you up to my apartments more often since the unpleasantness with Lord Baran.”
“Ma’am…” I said, disengaging from May a little so that I could ease back. “I figured that you had a lot on your plate and me, well, I’m not much of a courtier. I was glad to be able to help you.”
Jolene stepped toward me. She didn’t push May aside, but she seemed to move her by force of personality. The Consort’s blue eyes held mine.
“Pal…” she said. “You saved my life and my honor. I told you at the time that if there was anything I could do for you, I would. That remains true. I believe that it’s also true for my husband and for our friend Lord Clain.”
“Ma’am,” I said. “There’s really nothing I want that I don’t already have. Everybody’s been really nice. And since I got to know Lady May, everything’s perfect.”
Jolene cocked her head slightly. “I’m embarrassed to admit it now, Pal,” she said, “but at the time I didn’t think you could defeat Lord Baran.”
You could scarcely have made that more obvious back then, I thought. And I don’t blame you. Aloud I said, “Ma’am, I didn’t think I could win either, but I had to try. For justice’s sake.”
The real problem was that Jolene and Clain were keeping company—and everybody knew it. But what Jolene was charged with was a poisoning that she had no more to do with than I did. Clain had gone off to nobody knew where to avoid scandal, and Jon had to stay out of it to be the impartial Leader of the Commonwealth.
And nobody else in the Hall was willing to face Lord Baran because of Jolene and Clain—which, all right, didn’t thrill me either; but it happens in Beune too, and I guess any place else that there’s men and women. It’s not a reason to boil somebody in oil, which I’d heard Baran had in mind for Jolene if he’d won the bout against her Champion.
May edged close beside me and put her arm around my shoulders again. Looking at her mistress, she said, “I didn’t doubt that Pal would win, Jolene. He always finds a way, even in the most unlikely circumstances.”
I bent and kissed May, then said, “We’ll be back soon, dear. A little problem for the Revenue Section.”
I hugged her again, nodded to the Consort, and boarded the boat. Osbourn was behind me. I realized I should’ve introduced him to the Consort, but what I’d really wanted to do was to finish that conversation.
Everybody had confidence in me. A lot more confidence than I had.
CHAPTER 20
Getting Down to Cases
We made two stopovers on the voyage to Histance. Both nodes—Stirling and Yazoo—had good-sized villages with inns of some pretension.
I chose them for Lord Osbourn’s sake. I spend the length of a voyage working on artifacts in a trance. This time I’d brought a few pieces from Master Guntram’s room.
I’d thought that if I spent enough time working on the first of them, I’d figure out what it was supposed to be. Either I was wrong, or a day hadn’t been enough time. The next one, though, was designed to play music. I hadn’t gotten the result to sound like anything I wanted to hear before Baga announced we were approaching Histance, but it kept me from thinking about the fact that I was trapped in a tube cruising through the Waste.
Osbourn didn’t have that, and he didn’t have the business of the boat as Baga did. I could have spent the voyage chatting with Osbourn, but if I’d done that I’d have gone up a tree by the time we got to where we were going.
The choice wasn’t just selfishness on my part. I was going to Histance to accomplish a task for the Commonwealth. Osbourn was here by his own choice, for training. My job was the important one.
Still, I owed my companion something as a matter of ordinary decency. I’d have preferred to lay over at uninhabited nodes, perhaps even off the Road. We could eat and drink from the boat’s converter—and I wouldn’t have to worry about Baga tying one on.
I hadn’t had any real problems with Baga during the time he’d been my servant: he was a skilled boatman, a courageous companion, and he’d never gotten so drunk that he screwed up a mission. That said, I preferred not to put temptation in Baga’s path while we were on the Leader’s business.
I waved to Baga to show that I was alert, but I slipped into a trance again to view the Histance landingplace through the boat’s eyes. The boat was always a warm presence in my mind when I was aboard. I couldn’t control it the way Baga did, but I kept it supplied with all the trace elements it needed to stay the way it’d been built to be.
I think the boat liked me. And I certainly liked it—as a person. If that was a silly thing to feel about a machine, so be it.
Boats were so rare everywhere that they were always objects of interest. They were usually frightening objects also, increasingly as you went out from major centers. Histance was distant enough from Dun Add that I expected spectators to be peeking from around trees or through gaps in shutters.
Instead, there were around a hundred people on landingplace—split into two groups. Both gangs were heavily armed and eyeing one another nervously. They were edging forward and the gap between them was narrowing.
I came out of my trance. Standing, I said, “Osbourn, get your equipment ready but don’t start anything. You follow me out. Baga, be ready to close up and leave fast if we need to. Everybody ready?”
“Yes sir!” from Lord Osbourn.
“Right, boss,” mumbled from Baga in the boatman’s chair.
I took my weapon and shield into my hands but didn’t turn them on. With my elbow I threw the lever that started the hatch opening. When it finished, I stepped onto the top step.
“Move back, all of you!” I shouted. “Otherwise I’m going to decide that you’re an armed mob attacking the Leader’s envoy! If that’s so, I’ll know how to deal with it!”
I thought of switching my weapon on to add point to the threat, but I didn’t need to: the general rush away from the boat was just short of a panic.
Very few of those in the crowd had Ancient shields or weapons. The rest carried clubs, knives, and knives on poles which they probably called spears. I could have slaughtered as many of them as I could catch. The idea turned my stomach, but there was no way for them to know that.
One man didn’t run. He stood with his arms crossed in front of him, about ten feet away—right where he’d been standing when ther
e were three or four other people between him and the boat. He looked down at the ground. He didn’t have a weapon of any sort—but he was making a real effort to show that he wasn’t afraid of me.
Which he obviously was, but he was standing there anyway.
I grinned and said, “Okay, come talk to me.” I walked down the steps and the fellow came toward me.
As we moved, a soldier from the other group, the one standing on the right side of the clearing, broke away from his companions—his gang—and strode toward us. He didn’t draw his shield and weapon, but I would’ve kept an eye on him even if his gear hadn’t been jouncing and striking light from the spangles riveted to his leather holsters.
“Sir?” he called. He held his empty hands out to the side and kept a respectful eye on my own gear. The fellow was over forty but seemed fit. I read him for a mercenary soldier, the sort of fellow who made up the bulk of the army of the Commonwealth. From his age and air of competence, I guessed that he was in charge of the gang here at landingplace—one gang, that is. “You don’t want to do business with them cowboys till you’ve talked to my master, Lord Alfred!”
I looked from him to the civilian I’d come out to see. The civilian bowed slightly. “I’m Master Arcone,” he said. “I’m secretary to Count Thomas, who’s on his way here now to greet your lordship. May I ask—”
“Lord Alfred is coming too!” the soldier said. “I sent for him right as soon as the boat come, your lordship! Ah, I’m Captain Dessin, but my master’ll do all the talking.”
I nodded to him and said to Arcone, “I’m Lord Pal of Beune. I’m here to represent the Commonwealth and to compose the problem if that’s possible.”
“I’m afraid that no composition will be possible,” Arcone said. “Until Count Thomas’s son Herbert had been returned—or at worst, his body is handed over for burial, with suitable penalties to those who murdered the boy.”
A group of men came pelting down the path from the left side of landingplace. In the lead was a man in red velvet with food stains on the front of his tunic and a smear of grease on the right side of his fluffy moustache. Arcone’s summons had obviously caught him at meal.