"Saka. It is the tear of a tree that cried from pain during the Great Cold. It brings safety from accidental cuts." The teamster handed Ewoud the knife, hilt first. Ewoud studied the half-rounded stone. It looked golden brown, like very dark honey, and had small black shapes floating in it. It felt cool to the touch, but also a little, well, peppery. That made no sense, and he decided that there was probably some kind of sap or salve for treating the great-haulers left on the knife that made his finger sting a little. The golden stone didn't truly glow on its own, not as a mage-light would, but instead caught and held the fire's light. Ewoud's mother would probably like some. Maybe that's why his father had never brought any home. Or maybe it was too cheap to be worth selling on. The heavy silver mount held the stone securely onto the weapon. Ewoud reversed the blade point toward himself—but not directly—and returned the knife.
"Thank you, sir. It is lovely."
The man grunted. Ewoud returned to chewing the meal, and after a few more bites gave up trying to identify the meat. The sour bread didn't quite agree with him, but it did have nuts in it, so it wasn't all bad. Just mostly bad. Didn't the people have flour here, good einkorn grain?
No, this was probably the end-of-winter bread, Ewoud realized as he gnawed. That explained it. And of course the masters had bought cheap, and everyone knew about cheap bread in spring. The food would improve.
4
Within the Walls of Kehlibar
Ewoud smelled Kehlibar before he saw it. Smoke in the air stung his nose, both wood smoke and earth-coal smoke, and several of the ovsta sneezed. Human waste, and something else he did not care for also reached him. "The tanners dumped their vats into the river," a teamster grumbled. "Damn, now we'll have to water the beasts at the well."
"The well owner probably bribed them," one of the great-hauler handlers called. The rude sounds and ruder comments gave Ewoud the idea that this had happened before. He had dim memories of one of the few tanners near Rhonari being doused in his own tanning waste and then chased through the streets by boys throwing mud and rotten food, then having to stand in the market for the rest of the day in the summer sun after he dumped waste into one of the sweet streams feeding the city's wells. Tanners' waste poisoned water, especially when they used black or brown virtiole to dye the leather.
The beasts trudged on. The dirt under their feet had changed from grey to black, and fewer trees marched along the road. Ewoud saw more grass, and had caught glimpses of fields behind screens of trees. One field sported an especially brilliant green crop, and Meester Hajo wrinkled his nose. "Roggen. When the winter stays too late for einkorn and other grains, roggen can still make a crop."
"Is roggen a leb-grain, sir?" Ewoud guessed that it would be.
The balding trader raised one eyebrow. "What think ye?"
Ewoud looked at the wagon ahead of him, and felt the smooth wood of his staff sliding in his hand as he thought. "Since it is planted and grows after wheat and the others have been frosted or can't be planted, I would say yes, roggen bread and porridge would be leb-bread."
"Even if they are cut with wheat or other grains, and nuts, they are leb-breads," Meester Dogald snapped. "That sour black loaf we've been enjoying for the past six days is roggen, sour fermented and risen."
"Thank you, sir." Proper manners never did injury, and Dogald was a senior merchant, even if Ewoud did not care for him or his journeyman.
"Get used to eating it, boy, because once I settle your debts with your master, it's all you'll have until my man's injuries and honor are paid for." He shook his fist at Ewoud.
Meester Hajo swung his staff up and held it long-ways, making a bar between Dogald and Ewoud. "Enough, Donder. You can settle with Skinny's master soon." Hajo winked. "I'm certain he will be interested in learning all the details of the claim." Hajo lowered his staff.
"You insult me."
"No, we use road names until we enter the walls." Hajo sounded far calmer than Dogald, and Ewoud wondered if Dogald allowed himself to be so rude in business dealings. Why was "Donder" an insult? Or was Dogald making it into one when no offense had been intended? He might replace Caster Paulaa in that proverb if he didn't calm himself.
The caravan trudged around a tight bend in the road and stopped once all had moved clear. Ewoud stared, puzzled, waiting as Omer spoke with a man in a long robe over leather and mail armor. Kehlibar controlled all the trade in a region at least twenty days' travel across, possibly more. It was a free city, at least as eastern men considered such things. So why did it not have real walls? Granted, tall wooden walls built on equally high mounds of dirt with a ditch in front of them likely deterred common thieves and all animals, but really. Or were there proper walls inside the wooden ones? Where had the city found such big trees, or had they stacked trees on top of each other to make the wall taller? He wouldn't attack it unless he had lots of earth-pitch to burn the walls down, Ewoud decided. But a true city should have real walls.
Jan Pelzerman hissed, "I thought this was a real city."
Meester Moere hissed back, "It is, and Valdher-libahra is the patron goddess. She and Donwah are equally understanding and forgiving of slights."
Ewoud gulped and Jan paled a little. "Thank you for the teaching and correction, sir," Jan whispered. For his part Ewoud decided that keeping quiet was the safest thing to do until he learned what he needed to. What he didn't say or ask couldn't offend anyone, especially not the gods. And it wouldn't bring shame on his family, either.
The man in armor gestured to the caravan with his free hand. The other held a spear with a sharp-looking curved blade on the end. Caravan Master Omer folded his arms and tipped his head to the side, as if he were being patient with someone who ought to know better. Ewoud's mother used the gesture frequently. The soldier's hand waving accelerated, but the big man remained unmoved. At last the soldier stomped back through a small gate built into the much larger city gate. Omer stayed in place, like a tree rooted in good soil. The ovsta flicked their short tails and snorted, and one pawed the road dirt as if testing it, or as if he were planning to threat-charge someone the way great-hauler males did. His handler leaned over and murmured into the beast's closest ear, and the pawing stopped. The ovsta shook all over instead, releasing a fog of white hair and black dust that made the man sneeze. Maybe that's why they used great-haulers back home instead of ovsta. Ewoud didn't want to have to argue with the animals pulling his or anyone else's wagon.
After some time, but before Ewoud could get too impatient, a man in a longer coat without armor stalked out of the small gate, the soldier behind him. The soldier gesticulated, pointing to Omer, the caravan, the sky, and the wall. Or perhaps he was shooing away flies, given how he swept his free arm. The man in the long coat studied Omer and the caravan, and said something. The soldier froze mid-wave, and Omer removed his flat hat, bowing to the gate. Long-coat turned and stalked back through the gate. Ewoud heard the sound of wood sliding, then metal protesting, and dragging noises. The great gates swung open, but outward. Why out? All proper gates opened in, or up, didn't they? Omer straightened up and glared at the soldier. The man's head whipped right and left, and Omer waved. The first wagons rumbled and groaned into motion, and the soldier jumped out of the way of the stolid beasts and their handlers.
What had Omer said? Who was the man in the long coat? Did coat length mean he had more rank? Probably, since coats cost money and only rich and powerful men had servants to keep things clean if they were floor-length or longer. That at least made sense. Did the rich men here wear those pattens with platforms under them in wet weather, like some of the women supposedly did in Chin’mai? Ewoud waited until the wagon beside him began moving, then plodded into the city. The gate's shade felt good after the summer sun washing down on them.
Oh. Inside wall of the giant logs, grass-covered dirt sloped down to a second ditch, and a second wall. Ewoud thought he could see doors in the dirt. That... Even if you lit the walls on fire, the dirt would still be in your way
, and people could store things or hide in the dirt. Maybe Kehlibar wasn't so weak after all. Why did they close the outer gates by daylight? The dirt didn't rise quite so high behind the inner wall, but that part sat on a flattened-off hill, making it harder to get to the wall in the first place. Perhaps these people did know about walls, Ewoud allowed. But why no stone?
As they walked through the streets toward the vlee, Ewoud's puzzlement grew. No one had a stone or even a plastered house. Tall, broad wooden houses and white-painted wooden temples stood here and there, seemingly without order or reason, just dropped wherever the owners wanted them. Ditches ran between the buildings, knee-deep, or so it looked. The buildings had been painted bright colors, some so bright that they made Ewoud wonder what paints and minerals could possibly create those colors. One house sported horizontal stripes in brilliant green, blue, and yellow that clashed with the orange-red door and window-shutters. Although the shutters stood open, Ewoud saw no glass. That was odd, and as he looked more closely, he realized that only one or two buildings had glass in their windows, and then only one or two windows at most. Everything felt slightly off, as if someone had started with the right idea and then twisted it.
The people in the streets ignored the caravan. Ewoud tried not to stare at all the barefoot women and men. Even the Scavenger's beggars and night-soil collectors back home had some kind of shoe, but not here. None of the barefooted men wore robes, but loose trousers, thigh-length vests and pale shirts instead, most of them patched or mended in some way. The women wore proper dresses, but with a tight vest. Older women covered their heads with cloth, and younger women went bare-headed, hair in braids. Ewoud made himself study the road so as not to look too closely. The women all had large busts, or so it seemed, and he really did not want to get caught paying someone's daughter too much attention! "Bond-servants out doing the heavy work," Meester Hajo said to one of the journeymen, Ewoud couldn't see who. "The prosperous have already finished their business and are having the mid-day meal."
At last the caravan crossed a dirt mound that seemed to extend left and right as far as Ewoud could see, then a wooden way over a ditch, and into the high walls of the vlee. Here they found cobblestone-paved paths and courtyards. "You, there," a formidable woman ordered, pointing with a trader's staff. "You, that way. Ovsta pens are there, great-haulers other side, keep them away from the wash troughs. Apprentice quarters are beside the ovsta pens, journeymen and sons through the blue door with the staff in white, teamsters the brown doors. No, other way," her staff whipped down and blocked one of the apprentices. "You heard sister-lady Bettana. No entry into the stores and sorting rooms until all are washed and fed and hear the rules of the vlee. Unload into the courtyard, then wash, then rules meeting. You know the order, sir," she told Meester Hajo.
Ewoud looked down at the grey and black layer of dust covering him. No, he wouldn't want himself in with unwrapped trade goods, either, especially fabrics and furs. "That goes to the brewing house, over there," the sister-lady explained to a man with a hand-cart full of grain sacks. He nodded and trundled off that direction. Ewoud followed the wagons and found himself carrying bales and barrels under the eyes of several master traders and a very tall and broad man who could probably have carried a fully loaded wagon himself if he wanted to. Shadows stretched into the vlee's courtyard by the time they finished.
"Sort yourselves, then go wash," the huge man boomed. Ewoud edged along the front of the buildings until he found the door with the white staff on it. He ducked inside and waited for his eyes to adapt to the near-total darkness. Two windows provided the only light at the moment. Ewoud peered at the travel sacks until he found his. "Steam wash is this way," a strange journeyman said. "Bring your clean smalls, if you have any, leave your shoes here." Ewoud did as told and followed the man through a passage, ducking under one lintel and stepping over a second one. "Keeps the heat in and cold out. This is the dressing room. Leave your clothes. One of the life-servants will wash them and leave them in our sleeping room. Rinse off in there," he pointed to a door with a bucket carved into it. "Then steam in there," a door with what looked like rocks and twigs carved on the surface. "If you come in and don't see buckets of fresh water, tell your master or me at once. The life-servants have orders to keep water and hot stones ready at all times in summer. Understand?"
"Clothes out here, rinse in the bucket, steam there, and tell my master or you if things are not ready," Ewoud replied. About half of what the journeyman said made any sense. Steam? How did you get clean with steam?
"The meeting and the evening meal are in two chimes. Someone will come fetch you until you learn the vlee." With that the journeyman left Ewoud standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by confusion. He blinked a few times, then stripped, leaving his smalls in a little cubby that he guessed was for that. Rinsing sounded good. He did not like being gritty, especially not where his smalls were tight. Ewoud poured water over himself, dunked his head in a bucket and rinsed his hair, then used that on himself again. He poked his head out the door, saw no one, and hurried to the steam room.
"Come in, come in," another young man called. "You must be new. Sit there. I was about to pour." Ewoud found a piece of white cloth and sat on one end, draping the other over his privates the way the stranger did. The air felt very hot already, almost too hot to breathe. The stranger picked up a small bucket or large dipper with a long handle, dipped water out of a larger bucket, and poured it onto rocks. Hssssssss steam filled the room. It smelled like needle trees. "Just let the steam wash over and fill you. If you want to scrub, there are needle branches in the basket by the door." The stranger leaned forward, snagged one, and briskly flipped it back and forth, whipping himself a little. Ewoud decided that he wasn't ready for that, and instead breathed and sweated. "Once you feel clean, go out, rub yourself with the towel, and get dressed. Leave the towel for the life-servants to take care of. Oh, and don't even think of pleasuring yourself in here. It doesn't impress anyone and makes the house spirits angry at the disrespect."
Ewoud's entire body blushed. "I won't." Ugh, who would do that with others around? And in this heat and steam?
"Don't stay too long until you are used to the heat and steam. There's drinking water—spring-water—in the drinking bucket with cups beside it out in the dressing area. Always drink at least two cups before you leave." The other man added more water to the rocks and they sat in silence for a little longer. Ewoud felt clean but limp, and decided that meant he'd had enough. He stood with some care, slowly, not wanting to fall into the hot rocks. He wrapped the towel around his middle and eased out the door.
He put on his smalls, left the towel on top of another used towel that he found in a wooden bin, drank two cups of cool water, and went back to the sleeping room. The others ignored him in favor of sorting their things and claiming storage space as Ewoud dressed the rest of the way. Someone had already cleaned his shoes. "Ugh, what in the name of Maarsdam?" Klaas Stukken was staring at an open cupboard built into the wall. "Where are the beds? Do we sleep on the floor?"
"No, in the wall," Jan sniffed. "My honored father told me. It is so cold here in winter that people sleep in boxes, off the floor. These are sleeping boxes, sort of, built into the wall. You can see the padded blanket. Lighter man gets the top shelf, and in winter they pull the doors mostly closed to keep heat in and drafts out." He folded his arms and looked smug. "He says you get used to it after a year or two."
Ewoud considered the boxes in the wall, the steam bath, and decided that Kehlibar needed some serious improvements before it reached what he considered proper civilization. "The steam bath is through that door," he told the others. "I had one already."
"Steam bath?" Klaas stared. Surely a journeyman knew better, Ewoud snapped to himself.
"Yes. You leave your clothes in the dressing room, rinse off in the room with a bucket on the door, then steam in the room with rocks on the door. Once you've had enough steam, you rinse again, then dress. There are tow
els in the steam room to sit on and to cover yourself." Ewoud thought for an instant and added, "Life-servants collect your dirty things and the dirty towels, then clean all of them. They also bring the water, including drinking water in the dressing room."
The other sons and journeymen all blinked at him, then Klaas shook his head. "This place is passing strange. But if there's enough ice on the river to support a wagon, chopping a hole to bathe does not sound pleasant."
Ewoud thought about how cold the water would be under the ice, and felt his privates trying to hide. He wasn't the only one, if the others' expressions told truth. He pointed at the door. "That way. The sister-lady said to get cleaned up before the masters call for us." The half-dozen or so grabbed clean things and headed that way. Ewoud decided to look around outside if he could do so without being in the way or someone calling him to load more goods. He found his staff and went out into the courtyard.
It stretched almost as far as the main market square in Rhonari, but with walls around it. All kinds of buildings tucked up against the interior wall, and the entire vlee boasted pens and stalls for lots and lots of great-haulers and giant schaef. That much Ewoud knew. There had to be wares-houses, or at least large storage buildings, because they only shipped goods out two or three times per year, and that only in summer unless the hard cold and snow came early. Ewoud stayed in the shade, edging along under the eves of the sleeping buildings—or so he guessed—and looked for wares-houses. Nothing seemed tall enough, so perhaps the large, barn-like things were for storage. A separate, low building with crimson shutters and doors sat beside the gate, and as Ewoud watched, a tall man dressed in dark colors ducked out the door. He unfolded rather than standing, and looked very pale, with white hair. He fastened something long to his belt before going out the gate, and Ewoud guessed it was a knife. Most trading areas and markets prohibited weapons other than smaller knives and staves, so having people leave them at the door made perfect sense.
Imperial Magic Page 5