As he watched the birds and the road, and the fields beside the road, Tycho considered why such a valuable service might not be available. They crossed a little stream and he wanted to thump himself on the head with his staff. Of course no one in Rhonari or the other Free Cities could do that. The cities belonged as much to Donwah as to the other gods and depended on Her grace and toleration far too much. Driving Her element out of wood while standing on land that She shared with Korvaal? Tycho snorted to himself. No mage with any sense at all, especially a sense of self-preservation, would dare. The Lady of Waters tended to act decisively when offended.
"Something amuse you, Master Tycho?" Trollanus sounded more curious than offended.
"Ney, only understanding why no mage in the Five Free Cities would do such a thing as dry wood, sir."
The mage blinked several times. His eyebrows drew together. "Do they not? I'd think as much rain as falls, drying spells would be in great demand."
"They would be, if the mages dared attempt it." Tycho twitched the lead-rope, reminding the younger female that nipping passing couriers brought nothing but woe. "The cities belong to Donwah first, then to the other gods. I suspect Donwah's Daughter and her associates would have firm words with any mage who tried to remove water from something, as opposed to keeping water out of where water should not be." The more he considered it, the more correct his guess felt. "So mage-dried firewood would be wonderful, but the objections of the Lady of Waters might undo any such spells at the very least." Tycho adjusted his hat. "At worst she'd drown the cities again for the affront. We'd just as soon not risk that, thank you."
Trollanus pursed his lips, then looked forward as they walked. "Ah. Having seen the remains of a hamlet that incurred Sneelah's ire, I can understand such reluctance."
Sneelah? Oh, the patron goddess of the north men, the one with the great cats as a totem animal. Tycho nodded. Another courier hurried by. Two in such a short interval? How odd.
Not a mile later, the wagons ahead of him began to slow, and he checked the birds. They weren't scheduled to stop so soon, were they? He didn't remember anything about a mid-morning pause. The wagons creaked and shifted, making a passageway. The great-haulers fluffed their feathers at the proximity to ovstrala, and the hairy bovines snorted and peered in return, as if still puzzled by the great-haulers.
"Justice and mercy!" a woman's voice called, and Tycho went on alert. A courier led a dirty, battered women up the lane between the wagons. "I cry for justice and mercy." She carried a bundle in her arms, as well as a child on a back-board.
To his surprise, the Great Northern Emperor and Hugan walked forward to meet the woman. She dropped to her knees in the dirt, bowing until her head almost touched the road. "In the name of the gods, I cry for mercy," she begged.
Two noble women had come with the emperor, and they moved to stand on either side of the petitioner. "Rise, my child. What do you seek?"
She stayed where she was. "Oh Great Northern Emperor, I beg for mercy and justice. Lord Carloe had my man whipped to death because our older son would not serve Lady Carloe. Lord Carloe's men burned our house and claimed our land and livestock as honor price for daring to question Lady Carloe's good name. Justice for my husband and son, please!"
The emperor nodded to the women and gestured with his hand, palm up. They crouched, then lifted the woman to her feet. She sagged against the larger woman, and the bundle on her chest began to wail. The child in the back-board stared left and right. He was a sturdy little boy, with clear, dark eyes and a head of thick brown hair. As the petitioner moved, Tycho caught a glimpse of bright red welts on the back of one arm. Her husband had not been the only one to feel the lash. Red started clouding Tycho's vision, and he made himself release the death-grip on the great-hauler's lead rope. No man beat a woman for her husband's crimes unless she had participated and witnesses testified to it.
"She's my property, her and her whelps, until she pays the honor debt," a man demanded from up the road. The petitioner looked over her shoulder, screamed, and fainted. Infant cries rose from the sling. The noble women barely caught the limp woman and the baby, and the emperor himself lifted the baby-sling from the young woman's neck, cradling the crying infant and looking into the wrappings. His face darkened, and he handed the bundle to a third woman as guards carried the petitioner and her son away.
Three teamsters escorted a bearded man wearing tooled-leather boots, a dark-green leather belt, and crimson gloves to where the emperor and Hugan stood in the road. Tycho twitched his nose as he got a better look at the boots. Cheap work, more dye than actually tooling, on leather too thin to take a stamp or carving well. The belt had started coming unstitched. Was the man that bad a judge of quality, or was he one who preferred show to substance? Probably the latter, given how he swaggered.
The breeze had dropped away for the moment, and warm quiet filled the air around the road. Even the ovstrala seemed to be listening intently, not uttering their usual calls and grumbles. "You are?" the emperor inquired.
"Lord Smet of Carloe, holder of these lands. I'm after that fugitive debtor. Woman, two children."
Did he not realize that he was speaking to someone of power? Apparently not, confirming Tycho's supposition about the man's leather goods and his powers of observation. He wanted what he wanted and was used to getting it, other people's desires be damned. Tycho preferred not to do business with that sort of noble or merchant if he could avoid it.
"How much does she owe, Lord Carloe?" Mimir Borghindson might have been inquiring about a tavern bill or small article of dress. Lord Hugan's ears tipped back, and the tuft on the end of his tail twitched.
"Honor debt. At least four years labor, her and her children. Honor debt can't be paid in coin." Lord Carloe sounded very certain. For his part Tycho glanced to the mage standing beside him. Trollanus had closed one eye, and the other looked upward while his mouth turned down at the corners. Then he blinked both eyes, glanced at Tycho, and moved his head in a tiny head-shake. Could honor debt be paid in coin? In the Free Cities of the north, honor debt meant something a person had voluntarily taken on to repay an act of mercy or grace, not whatever Lord Carloe seemed to be claiming.
"Interesting." A young man with a book trotted up and bowed to the emperor. He opened the black-bound tome and passed it to the emperor, then bowed again. The emperor turned a page, ran one finger down the columns of text, and said, "According to this, within the lands of the Great Northern Emperor, honor debt can be discharged with coin or property, provided a court of the peers of the accused has found in favor of the accuser." He returned the book to the courier.
The noble's face turned red behind his beard. "I don't know who you are or what sort of merchant you might be, but these are my lands and that's a bunch of schaef shit. Give me the woman and her brats. She and her man accused my lady of indecencies and threatened me to my face. Her man's too weak to work, so she owes me honor debt and I'm taking her."
"What of her elder son?"
"The boy who claimed that my wife had abused her pages? Not my problem." Hugan rose to his feet, hackles up, tail twitching, ears flat. "What beast is that? One of those southern monstrosities? Guards, kill it!"
No one moved. "Where are my men?" Lord Carloe finally glanced over his shoulder. "What have you done with my men?"
The emperor folded his arms. "Lord Hugan comes from the north, not the south, Lord Carloe. As do we."
One of the teamsters spoke. "Lord Carloe's men threatened one of the teamsters for obstructing the road and moving through the lord's land without paying the proper taxes. They are discussing the exact amount with Lord Jokith, Most Imperial Majesty."
Trollanus winced a little, and Tycho wondered just how badly the noble's men were being thrashed. Probably only as much as they deserved for their stupidity. Like master, like man.
"The young woman who approached us asking for mercy and justice claims that after she and her husband refused to allow their son to enter yo
ur lady's service, her husband died and their home burned down. There are lash-marks on her, and a brand upon the youngest child."
A brand? The noble should be whipped himself! Even slaves were not branded, especially not infants. Brands were for criminals who refused to stop after three arrests and imprisonments and floggings.
"To show that his parents are honorless and must serve any who command." Lord Carloe hooked his thumbs in his belt and puffed his chest. "That is the proper way to deal with common born. The laws of Liambruu are clear."
Lord Hugan knocked the man flat, using his chest as a block to rebound off of as he jumped forward, then back. Tycho pulled the lead bird's head down, resting a hand across her neck just behind the harness and keeping her from bolting. When he looked again, the emperor had lifted the noble off the ground by the front of his jerkin and shirt collar. The collar began giving way, proving Tycho's observation about the man's sense of quality to be correct. All show, no quality. He probably overpaid dreadfully. Or at least, he would have if Tycho'd been the seller. Some schaef deserved to be shorn.
Tycho heard no anger in the emperor's voice, no contempt, no emotion at all. The hair on Tycho's neck and arms stood on end. "This is not Liambruu. Liambruu begins below the Comb Mountains. These are the lands of the Northern Empire, and we are its ruler. What happened to the woman's husband and son?"
"Most Noble Majesty," Lord Carloe swallowed hard, "the man dared threaten me when my men went to claim his son for labor, as is my right. I am their lord and defender, and grant them shelter and protection in exchange for service. My lady desired two new pages, and the boy was due for a labor turn and training in proper manners."
He sounded less demanding, Tycho had to grant him that much. But no more. "And what happened to her husband and son?"
"The man attacked me. My men defended me. In the fight, the hut caught fire and the boy might have been inside. Or have run away. They insulted my lady, and challenged my rights under the law." Lord Carloe's voice rose in both volume and pitch. "I demand justice for my honor."
"Let us see just what this honor is." The emperor released the nobleman and raised one hand. The emperor's own wagon-sleigh came up, and he and Hugan boarded. After a moment, the noble joined them as well. Trollanus turned around and hurried toward the end of the Progress, leaving Tycho watching as Lord Carloe and the emperor travelled ahead at a rapid trot. After a while, the wagon ahead of him began to roll forward once more, and Tycho twitched the rope. The birds walked on. They had travelled less than a mile when the wind began to stir, and the birds jerked their heads, eyes rolling as they looked left and right. The ovstrala too hunched their shoulders and began swinging their heads, as if sensing danger.
Tycho sniffed. He smelled nothing, or did he? A faint hint of burned wood and hay, and then something sweet. Oh no. He sniffed harder. The wind carried the scent of burnt flesh. Tycho pulled the wrap from around his neck and covered his nose and mouth. Instead of cooked meat, he now smelled only road dust and sweat. A courier raced past. Over the creaking and groaning of metal and wood and the soft drumbeats of the animals' feet and hoofs, Tycho's ears caught the voice of a mob. A mob gone mad, blind mad.
Cold sweat broke out on his body, and Tycho debated trying to run, except he couldn't do that from the middle of the Progress. Mobs did not care for merchants, as he'd learned during his second journey year. Rumor had swept through Hilnbend trafeld that a cloth-trader from Gheelford had murdered a prostitute. Before the trade master, the local lords, and others had restored order, the trader had been beaten to death, two journeymen crippled for life, and part of the trafeld burned, fortunately without further loss of life. The woman, as it proved, had leaned out a window while she was drunk, overbalanced, and fell, breaking her neck. Three people saw it happen, and the trader had not been there. The mob had cared not.
A voice Tycho could hear as clearly as if the emperor stood next to him declared, "Hear our justice, men of Carloe. Smet of Carloe and his wife forfeit their lands, titles, and lives. They have exceeded the bounds of justice and the laws of the gods. They are to be hung by the neck until dead, and their lands and property divided among the families of Goodman Sloan, Goodman Rinhard, and Widow Kupferman." The mob growled, then subsided. "No. The law is clear. Hang them. Do not stoop to their level." Tycho shuddered.
The Progress could easily see the bodies of the noble and his lady hanging from a large tree as the wagons passed on the road a little later. Two houses in the hamlet appeared to have burned, and the stench of charred man-flesh clung to the air, if such a thing were possible. The beasts sped their steps, eager to be away, and Tycho saw the teamsters encouraging their beasts to move even faster. The brisk pace lasted for several miles, long enough that Tycho was more than glad to take a belated noon rest.
He did not hear the rest of the tale until dinner. Again, he dined with court, to his dismay. But the courtiers appeared as subdued as he felt, and no one spoke much. The meal consisted of light fare—herbs, poultry, and nothing truly fleshy. Hugan napped on his seat, and the emperor spoke quietly with Jokith and two others. After the last course had been served and finished, he stood. "Remain seated.
"One Agnesa Kupferman approached this morning with a petition for redress and mercy, claiming that her lord had killed her husband and son, claimed their freehold property and destroyed their home. Our ladies found signs of abuse beyond traditional justice on both Agnesa Kupferman and her children. When confronted, Lord Carloe insisted that under Liambruu law, he had a right to the woman and her surviving children as honor payment for defaming his wife."
A snarling murmur filled the tent, and Tycho agreed whole-heartedly.
"We returned to the estate with Lord Carloe, and found that his men had whipped Goodman Kupferman to death, then burned the house with the boy inside, because the parents had questioned Lady Carloe's temperament. Two men came forward and attested that their sons had gone to the manor to serve as pages and had been beaten. One died, the other remains crippled and will be until he dies. Both men had their property seized for daring to protest such treatment.
"We saw justice done. The laws of Liambruu do not apply within the empire save those that are the same as ours, or that are among the laws that the gods gave to all men." The emperor's eyes snapped with dark fire. "The Carloe estate is divided among those who have suffered the most, and the village requested five years to prove that they can be self governing or to find another lord if they do not succeed. That right has been granted."
Tycho sipped the last of his wine and wished them luck. They'd have to build a wall and defend it, and govern themselves while paying all taxes due to the emperor for five years, then keep their freedom for three generations. Such was not easy, and many towns had found it simpler and less costly to accept a lord.
Later, Tycho wondered about Carloe's insistence that the laws of Liambruu permitted him to abuse and enslave his own people. Where had he learned that, if it was true? And if it was not, why had he claimed that those laws applied here, north of the Moahne and far from the Comb?
Tycho did not care for the possible answers that came to mind.
7
Moahne Calls
At least the wind from their backs drove the scent of wet ovstrala ahead of them. Fewer beasts plodded behind him than went before, and drenched ovstrala charmed neither the nose nor the eye. Too, the rain did not carry ice in it, as happened so often this early in the year. Wet and almost-warm was greatly to be preferred over wet and freezing. Ankle deep mud, however, remained ankle deep mud no matter the temperature or season. Instead of thudding, the beasts steps splashed and slurped. They'd have spread out if they could, but fields crowded the road in this region.
Camping out did not improve the mood of Tycho's road-mates. Sleeping in the open in the wet did not please him or his stiff shoulder, but the northmen acted worse than wet house-cats. Hugan and the other large felines sulked in the wagons under cover. The humans grumbled more than even the
ovstrala, making Tycho appear frivolously cheerful in comparison.
"How much more of this, Master Tycho?" Andrus, a courier, demanded as they walked along.
"This mud, this rain, or this road?" Tycho smiled at the sour expression he got in return. "This mud will last until the road dries, so six, seven days after the rain ends. The rain? Will last at least until after dark. Then it might be dry tomorrow, or it might continue for days more. The road ends at the sea, at least fifteen days journey from here, longer if the rain continues and we slow even more."
Profound dismay all but radiated from the courier the way a bonfire radiated heat. "Even slower, Master Tycho?"
"Aye." Tycho nodded to the rutted, hoof-holed way ahead of them. "This is slow but not so bad yet. When the mud deepens until it reaches the axels, then we go slowly indeed. Two, three miles a day at most if we have to push the heavy wagons, or add all the spare teams to them. You try to go faster, you start killing beasts. Yoorst won't tolerate that," he warned. Neither would he, and he'd hitch all his birds to the wagon and go home if they tried. Traveling with the emperor as an extra set of common eyes was not worth killing his great-haulers. Radmar would have to wait his turn until after Yoorst and Maarsrodi both finished with him, should Tycho be so foolish.
"It's like breaking a way through snow," Trollanus said from beside Tycho. "There are limits to what we can ask of the beasts and ourselves, aye?"
"Aye." The courier sounded reluctant. "Never traveled in deep new snow with beasts, only on skis or snow-shoes."
"Snow more than knee deep on the does, you send two ahead without a wagon to start breaking a trail. If it gets chest deep? Stop."
Tycho wondered if that were chest-deep on the ovstrala or chest-deep on the men. What sort of emergency would require a body to go out in that sort of snow? Wise men stayed home and waited for it to melt, or for the local peasants and farmers to clear the road enough that wagons or sledges could pass safely. The north lands had to be passing strange, even stranger than the stories he'd heard men bring back from Kehlibar vlee. The chest of an ovstrala doe reached his own chest. The bucks stood even higher, although they tended to be more massive, stockier rather than taller.
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