“One during the Horodek fair. That was in my town shop, and they cracked a table leg. Now this one. I know three other mealcrafters who’ve had to sweep brawlers out of their shops this year to avoid damage.”
“Most callings have their hazards. For magic-mongers, it’s livecopper madness. For you who sell wine, it’s brawling among your buyers. In addition to paying your damages, they shall also pay for my judgment, saving you that cost. Were I to charge them any sharper correction, who could rightly receive the extra moneygems?”
“Aye. Well.” Kasdan rose and handed his cup back to Alrathe. “But about waiting till morning for my money. I’d hoped to send round to Boken and Camys and Arlys or Tambur and start replacing things tonight.”
“Crafters can often be persuaded to wait a day for their payment.” Alrathe held out another judges’ token. “If they question it, show this as pledge that my judgment tomorrow will assign you fair payment.”
Kasdan accepted the disk and bowed politely.
“On your way back to your pavilion,” said the judge, “kindly pause at the skyreaders’ tent, or Mother Vathilda’s, or the Scholars’ Pavilion, wherever you find Dilys, and send her to me.”
“Cousin Judge.” Kasdan nodded and left.
* * * *
“I’m not sure how it happened,” said the storyteller. “I mean, why it happened.… Well, in a way I understand it, but…”
“Sweet herbwater, savory, or plain?” said Alrathe.
“Sweet. Sincerest thanks, Cousin Judge.”
Alrathe dropped an extra pinch of blend into her cup. The kettle had never been long off the brazier since Kara’s visit.
“I can pour it myself, Cousin Judge,” said Dilys. Alrathe let her. “And you?” she added.
Alrathe answered with a headshake and two fingers laid atop the cup that still contained a little tea, long cool by now, infused during the interview with Kara. “In what way do you understand how it happened?”
Dilys sat and curled her fingers around her cup. “Valdart had been speaking harshly of Torin, as much as accusing him to the merchant—not by name, but… Well, I knew who he meant, and it made my breath ragged. Then he started out with the merchant. I don’t think the merchant really wanted to go, but Valdart insisted they had to tally his stock, and besides, Valdart wanted to buy a pendant the merchant was boasting about, another orangestone and bluemetal piece to replace the one he claims Torin transformed. Valdart’s foot hit my leg on their way out. I suppose it was accidental, but I…felt like tinder and his foot was the spark. So I jumped up and accused him of blaming his old friend without evidence. The merchant tried to soothe us. But I remembered he still hadn’t paid Torin for the toys he took away yesterday. I felt hungry and achy, and I started insisting the merchant come to the Scholars’ Pavilion and pay Torinel at once. Valdart insisted he had first claim on the merchant’s afternoon. We both took hold of the merchant, as if we could pull him to one place or the other, and that’s how we tangled together and all toppled over.” She sipped her steaming herbwater. “Oh, that soothes my throat a little. I’d bought one of Kasdan’s mile possets, but he used it to dowse a burning cushion. Not that it wasn’t his right—I’m not asking for my moneygem returned—but I don’t imagine I’ll dare go back to his pavilion and buy another posset today. Well. We stopped brawling as soon as we realized the damage, when we all got up and helped stamp out the little fires. That’s how I burned my foot.” She grinned ashamedly.
“Have you asked the magic-mongers for some salve?”
“Not yet.”
“Do so as soon as you leave me. Cousin Hilshar might be the most sympathetic.”
Dilys nodded and drank more tea.
“But by your own account, no brawl would have occurred if you had not tried to delay Valdart and Ulrad from leaving.”
She sighed and bent her head over her cup. Alrathe thought she was crying. She said with obvious effort, “Well, if I have to pay it all, I will. But it doesn’t seem fair for that cocksure fragile ‘old friend.’ Couldn’t you at least correct him for spreading that kind of talk about ‘sneaky magickers’?”
“Can you repeat more exactly what they said?”
She unpocketed her handycloth, wiped her cheeks and blew her nose, tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Valdart started by greeting the merchant. Ulrad didn’t recognize him at first, but ’Dart reminded him he’d tried to buy that ugly orangestone pendant a few fairs ago. Then Valdart added it had been stolen or transformed last night. Ulrad said in that case ’Dart should have sold it to him. That was when the adventurer talked a lot about ‘some untrusty magicker prowling around this fair,’ and started urging Ulrad to go back to his tent and make sure his own stock was safe. Ulrad protested that he had two or three charms in his doorcords and another on every chest, and they were from far distant neighborhoods, but ’Dart answered that charms work best where they’re made and weaken with distance. ’Dart pointed out that his own tent was guarded by one of High Wizard Talmar’s charms, Ulrad theorized that it might be weakening now with Talmar’s health, and ’Dart replied that made no difference hereabouts. Oh, and somewhere in all that was when Ulrad boasted about buying another bluemetal and orangestone pendant almost identical to the one ’Dart was showing off, from another adventurer between fairs. I suppose Valdart wanted to buy this new one so he could offer it to Sharys in place of the other. Ulrad didn’t want to sell, but ’Dart sounded determined.” Eyes still closed, she grinned. “It may make a rare scene if ’Dart ever does get into Ulrad’s tent and starts bullying him to see the thing.”
“So Ulrad had not wanted to leave Kasdan’s pavilion with Valdart.”
“No. He walked along quietly enough, but I’m sure he didn’t want to go. Not until I stood and blocked their way, and then he only wanted to smooth matters and get out of the tent, like any sensible person. It isn’t hard to understand that. He hadn’t tried to pull away from ’Dart bodily, though, before our brawl.”
Alrathe put hand to chin and rubbed. “Ulrad didn’t mention the name of that other adventurer, the one with bluemetal work to sell? Or do you remember?”
“No. Ulrad had forgotten that adventurer’s name, and he gave a short little description that could fit any number of people: tall, broad shoulders, nothing else.”
“Mmm.”
“Cousin Judge,” said the storycrafter, “I don’t know whether it will soften my guilt or sharpen it, but I hadn’t drunk any wine yet. I hadn’t drunk anything more volatile all afternoon than a cup of mild cider Torin transformed out of water for me in the Scholars’ Tent.”
“Perhaps if you had had a little wine in you, this would not have happened,” Alrathe remarked kindly. “Though wine brittles some tempers, it dulls others. Not that I would recommend drunkenness as a corrective for ready anger, but this time when you go to Hilshar for salve, ask her to mix you a strong brandy posset as well.”
“Not too strong.” Dilys drank the last of her tea. “I have to mount the platform in a few hours, and I’d better have my steadiest brain and tongue. I’ll want all I can earn this fair, if I have to pay Kasdan his full twenty pebbles.”
Alrathe inquired, “Do you know where Valdart went to wait?”
She nodded. “Laderan’s tent. I went to Mother Vathilda’s, ’Dart went to Laderan’s. Saying he’d prefer skyreaders’ company to that of magic-mongers.”
“Send the adventurer to me when you leave,” the judge instructed Dilys in friendly tones, by way of dismissal.
* * * *
Alrathe would have expected the adventurer to choose cordial, but Valdart wished none of a beverage he called “neither stinging nor sober—just teasing like some silly child,” and drank savory herbwater instead.
Valdart’s account of his conversation with Ulrad matched the storycrafter’s well enough, allowing for quirks of individual memory. Valdart seemed to accept Ulrad’s tale of a second pendant in good faith, and Alrathe decided not to probe him at this time
and risk raising suspicions where none might exist.
“But by Kasdan’s testimony, his tent was not crowded an hour ago,” the judge pointed out. “You should have had room to walk without treading on the Senior Storycrafter.”
“She was sitting beside the straight footpath to the door. I took that way going in. Why shouldn’t I take it going out?”
“Nevertheless, again according to the meal-merchant, she was sitting squarely on her cushion, with her legs tucked in, not sprawling over the bare floormat.”
“Brother Kasdan wasn’t at any angle to see details. Not from what I noticed of where he was.”
“Then she was sprawled to invite your kick?”
“I didn’t say that,” the adventurer grumbled. “But…”
“But you have no especial personal affection for the Senior Storycrafter?”
“I don’t have any special dislike for her, either,” said Valdart. “But Dil can be a directing, bothersome creature. The other night she even tried to direct me how to play Torinel’s friend—me who was childhooding with him years before she knew either one of us. Wanted me to go to Tor’s tent and comfort him about his brother, talk him out of turning wizard himself in Talmar’s place. Seems she didn’t feel quite equal to comforting him herself, for all she thinks she knows his mind better than I do.”
“Perhaps you should have considered her advice more carefully last night,” said the judge, pondering how Valdart had three-syllabled his old friend’s name in one sentence and single-syllabled it in the next. For a moment, the adventurer must have forgotten his grievances concerning Sharys and the missing pendant, in a kind of possessive friendship that disliked anyone else seeming to replace an old childhood comrade. “Your very manner of denying personal dislike for Dilys, however,” Alrathe continued, “suggests that you do in fact feel it.”
“How’s that?” Valdart stood so quickly that hot tea splashed from his cup onto his hand. He uttered a wordless exclamation and sat again. “Caught in a blamed leaky boat! You’re the judge, Cousin. Is it fair judgment to make denials mean the same thing as confessions?”
“It is fair judgment to distinguish sincerity from lies, even unwitting lies. Although Dilys blocked your way and began that particular round of harsh words which resulted in damage to the meal-merchant’s property, it appears she would probably have retained self-control and let you pass without conversation had you not trodden on her leg.”
“Well, we’ll never know, will we? Besides, it was accidental.”
“So, in a sense, was the overturned brazier and resulting damage.”
“I suppose that means you’ll make me pay for it.”
“I will give final judgment tomorrow morning. But in all likelihood I’ll find it fair that you pay one third.”
Valdart muttered some adventurers’ expression of displeasure and went on, “I’m planning to marry this winter, Cousin Judge! I’ll need all the moneygems I can save.”
“Unexpected rockslides of expenses fall across everyone’s path from time to time,” Alrathe remarked.
“Another wise saw from some poet?”
“Aralyson, though she did not limit the observation to expense. And I must judge according to how actions and circumstances divide responsibility for damage, not according to how well or ill those responsible can afford to pay. Of course, you may attempt persuading Kasdan to cancel your share of the payment. Or you may have to forgo buying another expensive marriage token and trust that your chosen cares sincerely enough to accept a cheap one. Matings based on the simple expense of the marriage toy are often said not to be among the happiest.”
Valdart set down his half-drunk cup of herbwater and stood again. “With respect, Cousin Judge, how much can you know about marrying?”
“Only wise saws gathered from poets,” Alrathe replied, unoffended. “I will see you tomorrow morning in Kasdan’s meal tent to pronounce my final judgment in this matter. Meanwhile, you are forewarned.”
“Aye. And if you happen to earn your fee in that little complaint I brought you, and get me back my orangestone piece, I hope you won’t mind sending for me before morning.”
“If I do not recover your pendant, you need pay me nothing.”
Valdart caught up the doorcurtain and left. As Alrathe rose to refill the small kettle, Kara came in with Ulrad.
The judge nodded to them. “You’ll have passed Valdart on his way from my tent.”
“Back toward the meal-merchant’s,” Kara replied. “Doubting you need me any longer tonight, Cousin, I think I may buy some refreshment there myself now. Shall I knot your doorcords?”
Alrathe nodded again. “Aye, tie them for us, Cousin, and thanks for your help.”
She smiled and ducked outside. The curtain swayed and bumped for a few moments as she tied the cords. Ulrad moved his weight from one foot to the other and back.
“Tea or cordial?” Alrathe asked him.
“Oh, cordial, cordial. Unless it’s made from pears. I never refuse cordial, uh, Cousin Alrathe. Unless it’s pear cordial.”
“This is made from cherries.” Alrathe wiped the glass Kara had used, filled it again, and handed it to Ulrad. Only a mouthful of cold tea remained in the judge’s cup now, but that was enough to justify turning cup between fingers while waiting until fresh water boiled.
Ulrad took a triple sip of cordial, coughed, and wiped his mouth on a finely woven handycloth. “Well,” he said. “I, uh, really can’t remember myself at fault in this business, Cousin, but if—”
Alrathe waved one hand. “Valdart’s and the storycrafter’s accounts agree well enough. You were not to blame. Indeed, had you tried more strenuously to pull away, the damage might have been worse.”
Ulrad relaxed visibly. “Then you don’t want to hear my account?”
“I would have wished to hear it in full had you indicated you were going to assign yourself more blame than the others had given you, but where all others concerned absolve some person, that person rarely self-accuses.”
Ulrad relaxed another degree. “Then this interview is just for appearances, eh? Balance. I can drink this tasty cordial and go about my business. Hard on merchants to keep us from our business when we weren’t even at fault in some matter.”
“When I arranged to interview you as well as the others, I could not know they would absolve you.”
Ulrad drank the rest of his cordial and patted his lips with his handycloth. “You won’t want me tomorrow morning in the mealseller’s pavilion, either, then. When you tell the others your judgment.”
“I will want you. For balance. You’ll want breakfast, no doubt, and it should not require too much of your time before that meal.”
“Oh. Yes, yes, of course. For balance.” Ulrad put down his empty glass and moved as if preparing to get to his feet.
“Nevertheless,” Alrathe said carefully, “though I cannot in fairness direct you to pay any share of these expenses, I am curious about your reluctance to sell Valdart this second bluemetal pendant.”
Ulrad picked up his glass again and looked at the few drops sliding slowly down into its bottom. “I just bought that piece in this neighborhood, Cousin-Judge Alrathe. We can’t sell things again in the same neighborhood where we buy ’em. Not us traveling merchants. No profit in that. I was trying to explain all that sort of thing to you just this morning when you asked me about it, if you remember?”
“Valdart said he offered to pay you whatever you would ask for it in another neighborhood. That seems fair, and no loss to your profit.”
Ulrad shrugged.
“Perhaps the adventurer remembers voicing an offer that in fact passed only through his brain without escaping in words to reach your ears?”
“No…no, he did make that offer. Aye, I remember it now. But it’d be bad practice, Cousin. Very bad example, unsound habit to start.” Ulrad shook his head.
“The circumstances are unusual. Surely you could make one exception to your usual practice without beginning a
new habit.”
“No!” Another headshake. “See this, Cousin Judge. Can you just scatter exceptions into your judgework wherever you want ’em?”
Alrathe avoided a discussion of the balance between absolute justice and individual circumstances. Good judges spent their entire lives climbing after that ideal balance, but Ulrad did not seem the kind of layperson with whom to speak of it. “Having such a toy is very important to the adventurer this season. In his mind, it seems closely tied to his whole future, whether he will marry and settle, or continue wandering.” Or marry and continue wandering, the judge added mentally.
“I can’t help that,” said Ulrad. “He should’ve kept closer watch on his own pendant last night.”
“I do not remember seeing his pendant before its disappearance. It begins to appear I am the only person at this Amberleaf Fair not to have seen him show it off. But I understand yours is its identical twin. If I could—”
“Not identical. No, not so very much alike, not at all.”
“Oh? I understood you yourself made the claim. As similar as two walnuts?”
“Ah, that.” Ulrad shrugged. “Mealshop jabber, Cousin. Mealshop jabber. Now I think of it, Valdart’s was much finer crafted. Aye, mine’d look shoddy beside it. So if he does get it back, Cousin, I’m still eager to buy his.”
“I’d meant to ask a chance to examine yours,” said Alrathe, “so as to learn better what I am looking for. But since the two pieces are not so similar after all, I can spend my time more usefully otherwhere.”
“Aye, Cousin, aye. I can go about my business now?”
“One more thing. Dilys and Valdart testify that part of her reason for blocking your way was that you have not yet paid the toymaker for what you took yesterday from his showledge.”
“Oh. Ah, yes. Well, I couldn’t find him this morning, and he’s been busy in the Scholars’ Pavilion all afternoon. I’d…uh…leave the moneygems with you or Cousin Dilys, if you could tell me the total.”
“The toymaker was in his tent for most of this morning. When did you try to find him?”
At Amberleaf Fair Page 12