Merchant and Empire

by Alma T. C. Boykin

  "Thus has it ever been," Radmar's priest sighed. The priests turned as one to watch the Scavenger, and Tycho took the opportunity to scurry away. No wise man lingered when the gods walked.

  12

  Long Road Home

  The northerners and Tycho needed the rest of the day to reassemble collapsed tents, turn wagons back upright, re-start fires, and patch bruised or otherwise injured men and women. "I think they slept through it!" Borghind declared as he stared at the ovstrala and great-haulers. The animals ate and drank as usual, grumbling and muttering about the state of the world. The young great-hauler gelding gave Tycho a sideways look, as if contemplating mischief, but remained where he stood. Good decision. Tycho was not in the mood to deal with a fractious bird. Even if his shoulder had stopped hurting.

  Perhaps that was the greatest wonder of all. Not a twinge, not a twitch, nothing hurt in his shoulder or his hip or other joints. Tycho marveled, then went to the temporary chapel of Maarsdam and left half his silver. He dared not venture to where Liambruu's men had camped. He was not the only one.

  Lord Hugan, however, returned from a private errand tail high, Sanchohaakon's banner in his jaws. The cat spat it onto the ground and acted quite pleased with himself. The emperor did not appear quite so happy, but then he'd borne the brunt of Sneelah's power.

  The next day, lush grass covered the soil that had been barren. Whatever Liambruu had done, the gods had reversed. Tycho regarded the grass warily and did not tread on the verdure. He had more pressing concerns, like the hole that had appeared in the cover of his wagon. The hole had to be fixed before it grew larger. Fixing that to his satisfaction and re-waxing the seams took most of the morning and a little past noon. Was it worse than mending a sail? Yes, because you could talk and had company while mending sails. The northerners busied themselves with their own repairs, leaving Tycho alone. Hugan sauntered past once or twice. The second time he had a dead animal in his mouth, the tail dragging the dirt beside him. He did not invite Tycho to share, which was just as well. It looked like a lizard, and men didn't eat those unless starvation threatened.

  Two days after the gods walked, the emperor requested Tycho's presence. Tycho began to kneel, but Mimir Borghindson waved him to his feet. "No, Master Tycho. From this day on you do not pay obeisance to me. The gods sent you, Tycho Spellbreaker, to show the truth when truth was sore needed. I am their tool," he pointed to himself and sounded tired. "You are a free man of the free cities. I envy you that, a little." Hugan sneezed. "I told you to stay out of the flowers, did I not?"

  Hugan stood, reversed directions, then settled into a large white loaf of cat, pointedly ignoring both emperor and merchant. Both men sighed, then chuckled. "That settles that," the emperor stated, smiling. Then he grew serious. "When we return north, I will ask you what reward you desire. A monopoly on the hide trade within the empire remains outside my power, however."

  Tycho sighed once more. "Most Imperial Majesty, I am too old to attempt to find all the wholesalers and farmers I would need to be able to fulfill that many contracts, let alone quality check so many hides. Or to keep that many record book without misplacing at least one of them. Nor do I care to imagine the number of accounts keepers I would have to hire to calculate the taxes and fees due." Oh, the merchants all talked about having sole trade in their specialties, but truly? As it was, a murrain could destroy a man's entire worth in a year if he dealt in hides in too many places. Radmar's reach exceeded all others, at least that Tycho had seen. Even Donwah rarely struck a man who stood on dry land away from rivers. Radmar had no such limits when he turned his Wheel.

  "There is something, however, if it will not interfere with contracts already given," Tycho said.

  "Oh? And that is? My daughter's hand is not available yet, I must warn you."

  His daughter? Erk. "Ah, no, Most Imperial Majesty. I was thinking about the ovstrala wool."

  Now the emperor blinked. "Ovstrala wool. I will speak with those in charge of such things and see what can be arranged."

  "Thank you, Most Imperial Majesty." Perhaps sending Bastiaan to oversee the gathering and clip would wear off a little of that energy. No, he'd probably come back with a dozen of the beasts and a Grand Idea for something. He'd reached that age.

  "If you or your mages know of a way to tap and drain the energy of boys, I'd like that, too, Imperial Majesty."

  Mimir Borghindson laughed long and hard. "Ah, Master Tycho, if I and my lady wife knew of such a thing, we'd have made our fortunes years ago. Even waist-deep soft snow is not sufficient to dampen or even contain the spirits of a fourteen year old boy. Especially when they are twins."

  Tycho bowed. "My deepest sympathies, Most Imperial Majesty." He'd left his wife home with twin boys? He'd better find some very, very nice gifts for her before his return north, Tycho chuckled. Very nice.

  The Progress remained on the banks of the Moahne for another seven days, in part to allow all the mages and others to rest. Tycho worked up sufficient courage to venture to where he could see the river. Trollanus accompanied him once more. As they peered down into the no-longer-so-deep depths, Tycho saw something new among the black and grey stones. "Huh. A bridge?" The rock shapes on the far bank reminded him of the footings of a bridge. Bits of brown wood had snagged here and there as well, but he could not tell if they were just lodged tree-trunks and other flood debris. Some of the locals had already begun skirting the Progress and venturing down into the chasm to gather wood and other flotsam.

  The water mage folded his arms and stared straight ahead, to the green-fuzzed southern shore. "Yes. Using magic. A kind of magic long forbidden in the north, very long forbidden. Some wonder if the complaints by southern merchants about having to pay for purification when they returned from the Empire were, reversed shall we say? The priests all know the signs of that kind of prohibited working, so that they may intervene should someone accidentally rediscover the knowledge." He frowned, resembling the emperor for a moment.

  Tycho tried to follow the mage's words. "Instead of purification going south, they had to pay coming north, so that none would accuse them of doing such things?" He certainly would not care to be accused falsely of working prohibited magic. He still had not forgiven the bastard in Milunis who had accused him of being a coin mage and had him arrested and his goods seized, and that was six years gone. "That would discourage me from traveling to trade." And it added a piece to the puzzle of what Liambruu had intended by poisoning the mages within the empire. Whatever fate the gods had reserved for Sanchohaakon and his false priests, Tycho hoped it included sufficient discomfort to balance the hardships they'd inflicted on the innocent of the empire.

  "It appears so. His Most Imperial Majesty, the Duke of Milunis, and the King of Chin'Mai are considering what to do with Liambruu, and how to establish warning posts should Sanchohaakon's death and the deaths of his false priests not be sufficient to purge the abominations from the south." Trollanus did not sound as confident as Tycho preferred to hear. "They hope that the gods sorted that out along with removing the late king, the way lancing a swollen wound or boil and applying the proper poultice released the corrupted humors and restores balance to the body without needing to do more."

  Tycho heartily agreed with that hope.

  ”His Majesty also hopes that Hugan quits bringing interesting creatures back from his wanderings." Trollanus wrinkled his nose. “Barring that, he wishes that the beasts were completely dead rather than mostly dead."

  Ugh! ”Ah, yes, that could be a trifle upsetting to the imperial dignity."

  "Just a small bit."

  Aside from midsummer's usual heat, the return journey to the north passed without great surprises. Tycho stood beside his wagon's broken wheel and contemplated the metal tire fragments scattered on the rough road surface. "Ting-thud" the last bit fell off almost apologetically, rocking a little in the dust. He glanced over his left shoulder in time to catch one of the ovstrala watching with what greatly resembled a smirk on it
s flat muzzle. "At least we're not on a bridge," Tycho dared to sigh.

  "No, and there's a smithee just up the road with a smith in residence," Amund told him as he hurried past.

  Just up the road might be around the bend now in view or several miles. Tycho collected the pieces of metal, looked around for rescue, and shrugged. Things had been going too well. He found the strips of rawhide he kept for such things. The wagons around him had begun moving again and he waved them past as he poured water on the rawhide, just enough to make it pliable and to stretch it a little.

  "Can I help?" Trollanus watched, head tipped a little to the side.

  Tycho considered the offer as he pulled two metal tacks and a small hammer out of the box with the rawhide and other repair tools in it. "Yes. Got take the lead bird's rope. When I signal, you need to lead the birds forward just enough to rotate the wheel once."

  "One rotation of the wheel," the mage repeated, then walked up and took a firm grip on the lead female's guide rope. She gave him a concerned look but didn't protest.

  Tycho tacked one end of the wet rawhide to the wheel, then draped the strip over the rear of the wheel. "Forward now, slowly." The birds trilled and leaned against the harnesses. The wheel moved and Tycho kept the hide centered on the wood. "Stop!" The wheel stopped and he tacked the other end to the wheel.

  "Now we wait for it to dry," Tycho sighed a little.

  Trollanus smiled. He let go of the rope and walked back to the wheel, studied it, and spread his hands. He frowned with concentration and Tycho moved well back, lest he interfere by accident.

  The rawhide shrank and darkened a little. "That should suffice," Trollanus said, not even breathing hard. Tycho bowed to him, stowed the tools, and returned to his place with the great-haulers.

  The smithee sat by some trees five miles farther down the road, not far from the small road leading to the pfalz. The wheel would not have lasted that long without the rawhide tire, and Tycho felt better about his decision. He did not feel so good about the smith's price for replacing the tire, but such was life on the road. Things had proceed too smoothly as it was since they left the Moahne. The birds would likely develop stoppages and have to be purged, Tycho warned himself when they finally rolled into the camp that night. And the patch on the wagon cover would fail because someone had cut the wax with fat and it had softened and begun to rot. And vermin would get into his journey-bread. They were overdue.

  By the time they reached Harnancourd once more, Tycho had begun glancing up at the sky to see if something were going to fall on him. Nothing more had gone wrong aside from the early cold rains that warned of fall's approach. The letters from Gerta and Ewoud suggested that things continued well at home, and that his recommendation to look into hides and fuel in the south had proven mildly profitable but not excessively so. He was almost afraid of a windfall lest it bring trouble with it.

  "Grab him!" Tycho had just unhooked the great-haulers to lead them to the pen when he heard thudding and yells. An ovstrala thundered toward him, blood on his face and one eye hanging out of the socket.

  Mbwoooah! The bovine shrieked, the great-haulers screamed, and one of the geldings ripped free of Tycho's grip, taking skin with him.

  "Ow!"

  Crunch. Nausea replaced the sting in his hand as Tycho watched the ovstrala trample the great-hauler after slamming into it head first. Tan and grey feathers and grey wool blurred, then red and brown blood spattered everything. The bird shrieked once before one of the teamsters drew his knife and slit the bird's throat, ending the misery.

  Tycho managed to keep the other two birds under control, and led them away from the remains so they couldn't see or smell it. "Allow us, Master Tycho," a younger man said, gesturing to a teamster. "We'll take them to the corral."

  "No, thank you. I need to settle them and make certain they don't panic." And he needed to walk the shakes off. He'd felt the wind of the ovstrala's rush, it had been so close. He did have blood on his trousers and boots.

  "What were you thinking?" Borgind's hiss carried over the sounds of camp. Tycho glanced over to see that the senior teamster had cornered one of the other men against a wagon. Tycho kept going, in case shouting started. He did not want the birds further startled.

  One of the healing mages looked at Tycho's hand after the birds had been fed and settled. "No magic needed, Master Tycho. This will sting, then feel cool." She washed the hand, then applied something green that indeed stung. The pain faded and she bandaged the palm and soothed the fingers. "If you can wear a glove to keep the wrapping clean for the next day and a half, to let the herbs form a shield against corruption, it is for the best, sir."

  "Thank you." He tried to pay but she chased him away. When he returned to his vehicle, he discovered that Borghind had left silver equal to the price of a great-hauler on the market in Harnancourd at the wagon, according to one of the couriers.

  Well, losing two bird on the journey thus far—and only two—hurt, but not as badly as it might have in the past. Tycho ate and considered what to do. He only had two spare birds now, and would need to rotate them more often. They were twelve days from Rhonari, so that should be close enough to do it without overtaxing the youngest pair.

  "We part ways here, Master Tycho," the emperor told him the next day. "We turn east and a little south to look into matters before we return to our proper place. Five wagons and twenty men go with you, to bring Count Mangus home. It has been an interesting year, but one we hope will not be repeated soon." The emperor looked older than just one year and the miles should have accounted for.

  Tycho glanced at the gold now gracing the ends of his staff. "Pardon the familiarity, Your Majesty, but I heartily agree. Mortal men should not see the gods walk the land, unless the men are priests."

  Mimir Borghindson nodded, one hand resting on Hugan's head. "Even then, it is better for it to happen less frequently than in this past year." He beckoned with the other hand and a page bowed, then presented Tycho with a wooden chest. "A token of our thanks for your service, and something to sweeten your return to your wife." The emperor smiled. "The ovstrala wool is en-route, along with the earth needed to, ah, soften it's essence, lest a damp garment cause proud Rhonari to be abandoned."

  All in the tent laughed and nodded. A few stuck out their tongues or made faces as if a wet ovstrala had ventured into the tent.

  "Many, many thinks for your generosity, Most Imperial Majesty, and for your foresight in sending the remedy before the ailment arises." Tycho had plans for the wool. And for the blue dye that he'd managed to bargain a two year permit for.

  "The gods bless and watch over you, Tycho Spellbreaker. We owe you a debt, and hope that this might perhaps begin to repay it, if such a debt can be repaid. Go in peace, and may your travels be swift and your dealings profitable."

  Tycho bowed very low. "Thanks, Most Imperial Majesty. May the road be smooth, your beasts sound, and your way free of dangers, in the name of the Great Traveler."

  "...And young master Ewoud, and Bastiaan, both saw fit to use the back door into your property, Master Tycho," Count Mangus informed him eleven days later. "Without seeing fit to open it."

  "Did they now?" Tycho had expected as much, even though the boys knew that one of the great cats might be watching. Going over the wall was not approved, not that it stopped the boys.

  "Indeed. I believe in the second case, a young woman's father might have encouraged Bastiaan to depart from a confraternity function with sufficient time to avoid the hour of covering the fires." The ambassador glanced at the large white and silver splotched cat dozing beside the fire. "Her older brother mistook Bastiaan for someone else and..." The words trailed off and Count Mangus turned his hand palm up.

  Tycho rubbed his forehead. Such things did happen. "Thank you. I will be sure to remind the boys about proprieties and the proper use of gates."

  Both men smiled.

  Home. Home was where Tycho now belonged. He'd wandered enough. Time had come to settle d
own, to leave the road and sea to younger men. Gerta had suggested as much the previous night, once she recovered from the gift of the saka necklace and cuffs. The warm golds, browns, and green-gold had brought the color out in her skin and hair, and she'd almost choked him she'd hugged him so hard. The ovstrala wool, however, got a cooler reception until he assured everyone that a way existed to keep it from smelling of beast every time it touched moisture.

  "You are invited to visit the northern court, you and your lady wife," Count Mangus said after a few moments.

  Tycho thought. "Perhaps in the future, my lord. The port will close soon, and I am road weary. His Most Imperial Majesty's generosity has blessed my self and my household, and I would not overstrain it so soon." In truth he wanted nothing more than to go through the ledgers, to have good beer and cider at his own fire, and to spend time with his wife and family.

  Mangus smiled. "You are wise. I fear my lady-wife awaits with a list of matters to be seen to, beginning with a dowry contract and an inspection by my son's future mother-in-law. Who I am informed has already found great fault in everything made by the gods, as well as everything pertaining to my son."

  Tycho had to chuckle. "I fear such mothers-in-law are to be found the length and breadth of the empire. That's one reason I married from outside of Rhonari."

  "Again, you are wise. Were wise. She lives only an hour's wagon journey from us."

  The gods might walk the land, kings rose and fell, but fussy mothers and adventuresome boys never changed. Which was as it should be, Tycho knew. And was good.

  13

  Author’s Note

  Readers of Imperial Magic will recall ovsta. Ovstrala and ovsta look very similar, which is what led to their names. Ovsta are indeed giant sheep, sort of. Ovstrala are even larger bovines. In the northern dialect “ovst” refers to the creatures' wooly nature, and the ending of “-a” means smaller, “-rala” is larger. So literally they are “small hairy beast” and “larger hairy beast.”