Tycho mulled over the emperor's words and his own small knowledge of the magic workers' confraternities in the Free Cities. One of the preservation mages working in the wares-house had said something the like, what was it? Tycho struggled to recall. Oh, yes, it was about permission and consent. "I am told, Most Imperial Majesty, that even smaller magics cannot be worked without the consent of the person affected, healing in time of great need being the sole exception."
"You are correct. That is the law, commanded by the gods as well as by our forbearers at the end of the Great Cold. Men misused magic for a time, and the first emperors and their priests forced the few remaining great magic-users to comply. Most agreed freely to limit themselves for the good of all others, but a few had to be coerced." The harsh, cold tone suggested that coercion might be an understatement. The warm spring sun lost its heat for a moment as Tycho wondered precisely what horrible things had been done. As terrible as men could be to each other without magic... No. He truly had no interest in knowing.
The emperor returned to imperial matters, and after one last glance at the schaef, now resting quietly once more, Tycho walked to his wagon and began airing some things and shifting others around. He had not used as much way-bread as he'd planned, which was fine, but he did need to rotate the stock. The snow-claws for the great-haulers could go in front on the bottom, and he'd move some of the warm-weather things such as the additional water-bags and water-skins up. Nothing appeared to have gotten wet that had to remain dry, and the caulk between the boards in the bed and lower sides remained flexible and sound.
"Mbwoooah!"
"Trwsssss!"
"Get it!"
"Stop the thing!"
"No, dolt, don't fire that into the pen!" Tycho woke to darkness, then torches, and the sound of men and women yelling from the direction of the ovstrala pens. The great-haulers and ovstrala added their voices to the cacophony. Tycho pulled on his boots, grabbed his sword and staff, and raced toward the pens. He paused beside a freshly-stirred campfire, not wanting to get in the way of the men and women with cross-bows.
A deep-chested snarl caught his attention. He turned, staff raised, sword in the left hand. Eyes shone in firelight, and a shadow moved toward him. Scheisse! Tycho felt something at his foot, glanced down, and saw the end of a long chunk of wood, half in the fire. He dropped the sword, grabbed the burning brand, and shoved it at the shadow. The beast screamed, dodged, then screamed again as Tycho swung his staff and hit something.
A guard raced up and stabbed with a spear. The shadow screamed again and Tycho drove the fire closer to the beast as the guard lunged with all his weight. Whatever was at the end of the spear struggled, hissing and screaming, then shuddered and went limp. "Take the head," the guard panted, pinning the thing to the ground. Tycho switched staff for sword and gulped, then eased around the marauder, found the head and neck, and cut. It took several blows since he could not see where the bones in the neck ran, but he managed to sever the head from the rest of the beast. The guard braced with one foot on the corpse and yanked the spear free. The firelight revealed a cross-piece to stop men or animals from coming up the shaft. "Good."
"How many?" That was Borghind, chief teamster. Tycho put the brand back into the campfire and went toward the man's voice.
"Two in the main pen, sir," a woman stated. She carried a crossbow and had a sack of bolts hanging from her belt, along with a bow-crank. "One jumped over both rings of ovstrala."
"In one leap?" Borghind sounded astonished.
The woman shook her head. "No, sir, landed between. One of the mages on watch saw it and called us. The outer ring got the second hunter before we could."
"How many ovstrala did it kill?"
The woman nodded to Tycho. "One of Master Tycho's birds, a young male, I think, sir, no ovstrala. It stopped to eat the bird and we could shoot it."
Damn. At least it wasn't the lead female. That would have been a great problem. The second female needed more seasoning before he trusted her as lead. "Guard killed a third beast back that way," Tycho gestured with his staff. "Black, yellow eyes. By the fire, minus its head."
"Good. I want dead things to stay that way." Borghind spat to the side. "And we do not have a night rush on our hands yet, thanks be." He took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Let's keep it that way, if we can."
After a moment's consideration, Tycho returned to his wagon, cleaned the sword and put it back into the road-sheath. Then he went to check on his birds. "Ah, Master Tycho, I'm sorry, sir," Axil said. The teamster on night-guard duty sounded upset and looked very unhappy, shoulders drooping, head low. "It jumped both rings of ovstrala. Never seen the like aforen."
"At least it was only the one, and only got one bird." That's why a man brought spares. "May I check on the others?"
"Aye, sir. They're all calming. Walk sunwise around the ring, that's how we train them."
"Sunwise," Tycho repeated. The teamster opened a small gate in the wood and metal panels and ropes. Tycho entered, saw what he needed, and began to make his way slowly and calmly around the outer ring of ovastrala. Torch light and fire light reflected on horn-tips and eyes. He breathed slowly, shoulders relaxed, in case ovstrala read men the way great-haulers did. He found a gap in the ring and passed through it. Again sunwise, he walked behind the inner ring until he came to a second gap. Someone had already removed the bodies of the attackers, and Tycho watched some young men trying to deal with the dead great-hauler. The other birds huddled into a ball as far from the body as they could.
He stopped beside the remains. It had been a clean kill, throat torn out before the beast had started eating. Tycho snorted. "Small profit, that. All it got was feathers," he pointed with the butt of his staff, keeping his voice low and calm. "If the cooks want the bird, it is theirs, but it will need stewing."
"Do you need any evidence, sir?" The young man kept glancing over his shoulders.
"No. Just let me," he removed the kick band from the right leg. "Feed it to the cats, give it to the cooks, whatever use is appropriate." Tycho turned away and moved to the other birds. The lead female's head shot up and she stared at him, then trilled quietly. He trilled back. She resumed sleeping. The other birds ignored him, staying clustered and balled up, heads tucked under wings.
"Do they always sleep so?" Tycho saw Broghind watching from outside the inner ovstrala ring. Tycho waited to answer until he'd looked at the birds, then left the ring.
"Aye, sir. But don't think they are defenseless. I've seen more than one would-be thief kicked from Milunis over the sea to Chin'mai before he knew what struck him." Another had discovered the hard way that great-hauler bites severed hands from arms.
Broghind's expression suggested deep skepticism. But he kept his thoughts to himself. Tycho continued sunward, found a gap in the outer ring of ovstrala, then left the pen. It lacked a while until dawn, and he wanted to sleep more if he could.
8
Moahne Mouth
"Never seen the like." Neither had Tycho, and he was glad the guard with the spear had urged him to sever the beast's head. He'd just as soon not find out what damage those teeth and claws could do.
Short black fur covered the animal, and it almost resembled a cat. The flat head ended in a sharply tapering muzzle with very sharp teeth and stiff whiskers. Angry yellow eyes glared at him and he was glad the head sat two feet away from the body. Instead of paws, separate toes each sported large, flat fixed claws with sharp tips. The body too looked squarer than a cat's, and the tail ended in a small spike, or tapered into a narrow tip. It was hard to tell from where he stood.
Trollanus scrubbed his chin with one hand. "The others look similar, but rounder, and one had a lump on the end of the tail like a club, instead of a spike. The priest blessed them and nothing happened. They're not magic made."
Tycho had been chewing that along with his breakfast. "Can man always tell magic? Aside from god-magic," he added quickly. From what little he'd seen, if anyone mistook god ma
gic for that of men, and they were not already know to be weak in reason or blind, they'd soon have that reputation.
The mage opened his mouth, then closed it again. He squinted, then closed one eye in concentration. "Some of the oldest books and tales say no. And some claim that animals can be tainted by magic gone wrong, as happened before and just after the Great Cold. But no magic in the world is that strong, save the works of the gods. And we no longer permit magic to overflow for that very reason."
"Like tanners not allowing their vats to leak or slop," Tycho ventured.
Trollanus nodded. "Exactly like. They do not want their wells tainted. We do not want everything around us tainted, or say accidentally making the ceiling beams glow when someone only asks for a mage-light on a hanging rod."
Whatever caused the strange creatures, Tycho hoped it would stop soon. Although, as he studied the hide, risking brushing it with one finger, this one could be tanned and used for garments hair on if someone would be willing to tan it. The skin looked good and thick with a tight grip on the hair, and the pelt's sheen suggested that the beast had been healthy. However, one great-hauler plus the cost of preparation was too expensive for Tycho's tastes.
The camp moved only a few miles that day. The ovastrala acted skittish, and Borghind and the road-ward Jokith agreed that while moving the beasts away from site of the attack would calm them, they did not want to work the ovstrala so hard that they collapsed from stress. "They'll just up and die. One breath they're standin' there, stubborn as usual, and then thud—dead ovstrala lyin' on the ground." The lead teamster snorted. "A wise man doesn't push them after they've had a night fright. Not only do they drop dead, but they try to do it in water, or in the center of the road, while in harness. Whatever will make yer task the hardest. And ye can't eat them. Dyin' like that fouls the meat." He sighed. "Some day, perhaps, I will ask Yoorst Himself why he made them so."
"So we men cannot abuse them without penalty, or so the priest of Yoorst says of great-haulers." Tycho leaned on his staff and watched as the last of the ovstrala trailed into the pen. "You see a schaef lingering near a well or pond , you check to see how the rest of the flock fare. Like as not, they're poorly or ailin'. Given the chance, they'll poison the water with their death to pay back ill treatment." Or so both priest and farmer swore. Tycho had no reason to doubt them.
"Huh." Broghind studied the animals a moment more, then returned to his other duties. Tycho washed his face and hands before returning to his wagon. Not long after, the courier Amund hurried up. "Master Tycho, His Imperial Majesty wishes your presence."
Tycho bowed, picked up his staff and followed the courier to the imperial tent. The guards nodded and permitted him to enter. One of the court nobles beckoned and Tycho followed him to a place on the emperor's right hand side, half-way down the row of observers. A double handful of farmers and peasants knelt before the emperor. They had brought hides and a few heads, and the collection made Tycho blink. Stripes and spots together? How very, very strange. And those tiny legs, thin as twigs, could not belong to so large of a body unless it was a bird of some kind, but birds did not have curly fleeces.
"...Most wise and great Imperial Majesty, permit us to pass through, we beg you," the group's leader implored. "We cannot stay on our lands. These beasts foul the soil and corrupt our creatures. The priests of Yoorst and the beast-mage tried to stop them, to exorcise them, but nowt came of it. They eat our crops, our schaef and cattle bear no young. Please, we beg of you, in your mercy let us leave for cleaner lands."
The emperor stood and left his seat to inspect the hides and heads. He glanced to the right, caught Tycho's eye, and beckoned for him to come and look. Tycho swallowed hard, bowed, and went to the hide with spots and stripes together. He crouched, looking at how the fur lay on the hide proper. It swirled, a bit like the hair on a few dogs Tycho had seen. He wiped his fingers on the floor cover and then pinched the hide. It felt thin and fragile. It had been scraped hard, he could tell from looking at the back of the skin. Why scrape it so? But the surface appeared no different than a natural hide overscraped, and the color befit the color of the hair. Or did it? Tycho lifted the skin and parted the pelage. Yes, solid under the pattern.
"What say you, Tycho Rhonarida?"
"Imperial Majesty, this is as the other hides. The skin at least and the hair are not bespelled, and while the pattern does not match any I am familiar with, the skin and hairs themselves resemble a normal hide, albeit overscraped save for parchment use."
The speaker for the farmers nodded, but also frowned. "So are they all, save that they attack our good beasts, even those that should eat only grass. And the fertility has left our beasts, and leaves the soil where these shit."
He wasn't a farmer, but every man knew that ordure for the soil had to be spread thin and plowed into the soil, not left in a stinking heap to breed miasmas and disease. Tycho had no thoughts on that particular problem, and shrugged a little.
"Would you buy this hide, Master Tycho?"
Tycho shifted, then stood. "No, Most Imperial Majesty, but only because it is scraped so thin that removing the hair will render it unfit even for parchment or fine garments." He spoke with honesty. "Should I find one of the proper thickness, I would consider it, at least one to have test-tanned to see if the results justify the cost."
"But the spells on it! They'll kill any man what wears such a thing," one of the women in the back of the petitioners exclaimed.
The emperor shook his head. "Master Tycho sensed no spells, and neither did we," he pointed to his own chest. "Had any magic once been on the hides, it has faded and they are no more and no less than hides."
"But th' beasts curse ourn, and they die! Most gracious Imperial Majesty," the woman added quickly. Tycho noted her sturdy, well-made clothes and leather shoes, as well as the matron's head-cover that she wore. She was used to getting her way and being treated with respect, for all that she was a farm woman. Her farm prospered, or so it seemed by her clothes, and Tycho suspected that she'd given more than one man the rough edge of her tongue and won. She could probably heft a schaef onto the hanging hooks herself for butchering, unless the fullness of the sleeves of her blouse were to show prosperity rather than to cover strong arms.
"You may pass north. Be wary, for more beasts have been seen." The emperor considered the group. "Do any come behind you?"
The farmers and peasants muttered among themselves. The speaker faced the emperor once more and bowed again. "Yes, Most Imperial Majesty. Our priests remained behind to succor others. It is said that all who can are fleeing north, away from the Moahne. There are rumors of more beasts, far larger, and of an army from Liambruu come to claim lands not rightly theirs."
"That rumor is true." Silence filled the tent, and even the northerners looked as surprised as Tycho felt. "Sanchohaakon of Liambruu marches north with an army, to claim Our lands south of the Moahne. Milunis holds out against him for now, but others are fleeing. War of this kind has not touched Our lands in ten generations, and We would that it had remained nothing more than a memory and grandfather tales. Thus We go south."
He did not want war! He had seen the results of war between nobles and the Five Free Cities, and Tycho wanted nothing like that in his life ever again. He gripped his staff so hard that his hand ached as he struggled to hide his feelings. Why would that fool in Liambruu not listen? He had no claim to the north, had no way to govern it, could not bring anything of value to the land. No one would want his rule.
Lord Carloe had, a whisper of memory prodded Tycho. At least one lord preferred what Liambruu's king offered to the laws and limits of the north. Well, he had been a fool, Tycho snarled. The free cities would not tolerate such impositions and declarations. They were not nobles but free men who would fight. Free men had rights, no matter how low-born. The Five Free Cities had fought hard and did their duty in order to remain free, and no southern king who could not even pay his bills would take that away from them without a fight, a ha
rd fight.
The next day, the emperor and the mages left camp before sunrise. Tycho ate breakfast and loaded his wagon. The sun was a hand-width above the horizon when the first wagons returned, carrying unconscious mages back to camp. "Master Tycho, can you carry a man in your wagon?" one of the guards demanded.
"Aye." The guard heaved a woman mage Tycho recognized from one of the cooking areas out of the wagon-sleigh and didn't quite dump her into Tycho's own vehicle, but he was not overly gentle, either.
"She'll wake at noon, perhaps earlier. Won't be able to walk far." He handed Tycho a heavy, cloth-wrapped packet. "Food and drink. She'll devour it when she wakes." Then the guard hurried off to find wagons for the four other men and women in his wagon.
What had the mages done that dawn? It must have been enormous and important for the emperor to drain all of his magic workers. Tycho walked beside the great-haulers and considered possibilities. Making a good, toll-free bridge over the Moahne would be wonderful, although not with Liambruu marching north. Had they purified the land that the farmers had said was tainted by the strange beasts? But that meant that the creatures shat magic, didn't it? Well, no, perhaps it was something a preservation mage could do, but from a distance, without seeing the damage? No, the emperor had sight mages who could see things, although it would be nice if they'd seen the beasts before they attacked the great-haulers. Tycho turned the problem over and over in his mind as they walked along.
The birds cooperated and acted almost placid. Tycho studied the youngest gelding with suspicion. While steadier and more sensible than his late associate, the male still tended to act up and startle at the least little intimation of something new. Today he walked steadily, looking left and right but not misbehaving or spooking. Tycho almost wondered if the great magic work had been to turn the beasts tractable and good natured. Except that would be twisting their natures into something against their very being, especially the great-haulers. Even Sigered's team walked quietly rather than grumbling constantly, tails flopping back and forth, ears never stopping their movements. Could the animals sense that magic had been worked? Lord Hugan had responded to the gods' actions at Rhonari, but he wasn't exactly a great-hauler, schaef, or ovstrala.
Merchant and Empire Page 12